#its not my fault bloody knuckles are kinda

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[mindofasupernova]

Someone you loved

Kaz Brekker x reader

Mr. Sandman Part 2

Inspired by the song "Someone you loved" by Lewis Capaldi

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

Kaz's mind was a raging storm, an ever-shifting landscape. His heart was madly racing and he feared that if it didn't stop soon, it'll burst out of his chest.

Two days had gone by and yet there was no information about Y/N's whereabouts. No one had made an effort to contact him asking for money in exchange for her safety, no blackmail, nothing. Kaz knew the probability of Y/N being alive was shrinking as the days passed.

Kaz felt terrible, guilt crushed his heart in a vicious grip. If he hadn't kicked her out, if he had taken back his words, if he had just... No, thinking about what ifs wouldn't bring Y/N back home. If she's still alive a cruel voice whispered in the back of his mind.

His mind drifted to his darkest memories, horrible images plagued his mind. Rotting flesh beneath his fingers, icy hands grabbing at him, threatening to pull him under the waves. Water filled his lungs, consuming his oxygen and living him in the dark. His head broke the water, gasping for air, Kaz looked around, trying to find something, anything to grab to avoid drowning. Only that now instead of his brother's corpse, he saw Y/N's limp body floating above the water.

Kaz fell to his knees, the pain brought him back to reality. He was trembling, sharp gasps left his body, black dots covered his vision. Y/N would have told him to focus on reality, take in the details, count every little object he could find in the room. But Y/N wasn't here, and it was all his fault.

___________

I need somebody to heal, somebody to know

Somebody to have, somebody to hold

Y/N talked passionately about her latest read, making wild gestures with her hands as if to prove a point. Jesper's arm was slung across her shoulder, head thrown back in a laughing fit. When his cackles died down, Jesper leaned his head on Y/N's shoulder and started mocking her for being able to remember the exact place where phrases were in the book.

Kaz watched silently from his seat in the Crow Club, he knew those touches were purely friendly gestures, and still he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

On many sleepless nights, Kaz thoughts had wandered down a treacherous path, always finding their way to Y/N. His mind had been invaded by images of her: the smile she always wore when she was about to make a witty comment, the way she pursed her lips whenever he asked her to memorize an important document, the furrow of her brows when paying close attention to Kaz's plans.

He snapped out of it, angry at himself for thinking about her, he couldn't afford those thoughts. Kaz's life was dangerous and he had many enemies who wouldn't hesitate to use anything or anyone against him. If he left himself feel, if he let her in, he knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

He had tried. He had tried to distance himself, push her away until his feelings dissipated to nothing. However, every time Y/N appeared in his office late at night just to talk about her day, every time she called his name, every time she sent a glorious smile his way, Kaz couldn't bring himself to say no.

And now, looking at Y/N from across the room, a sense of longing clouded his vision. Thoughts of sitting next to her, no space between their bodies, with no fear of touching reminded him of how miserably he had failed.

____________

It's easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

Since Y/N's kidnapping, Kaz had gone completely feral. He had looked for anyone who could provide information. He had kidnapped, tortured, and even killed members of any other gangs he had his suspicions on. He was unstoppable, he wouldn't rest until his Y/N was safe. She isn't even yours because you kicked her out a scornful voice reminded him.

Kaz's whole body hurt, his limp was more prominent than usual, his knuckles were bloodied and a purplish bruise contrasted against his pale skin from a blow he had taken when he was beating the life out of one of the Dime Lion's informants.

How he wished Y/N was there. No matter how many times he came back to the Slat, covered in blood and clutching at his wounds, Y/N's gaze always turned into one of horrified worry.

Y/N had always healed his wounds after a mission, wiping the blood away very carefully in order not to touch his skin. Even when he wasn't bleeding and it was just his leg giving him a bad day or a headache that refused to leave him, Y/N always brought him medicine or tea depending on the situation.

But Y/N was gone and he might not ever see her again. His thoughts lurched him back to the ocean, dead things suffocated him. He clutched his cane tighter, he couldn't have a panic attack now, he needed to find Y/N.

_______

Now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you're not here to get me through it all

The night wrapped the dirty streets of Ketterdam in its wicked hold, the moon loomed ahead casting a palish glow through Kaz's window. Another day had passed and he was no closer to finding Y/N.

He was alone in his office, clutching his cane tighter by the second, its sharp edges bruising his skin, and yet, the pain wasn't enough to keep the waters from rising, Y/N's form surrounded by corpses.

No, he couldn't think of her this way. He had to remain positive, he needed to hope Y/N was still alive somewhere, but for someone like Kaz, remaining positive wasn't something he strived on. Instead, Kaz looked inside his brain, searching for a memory of Y/N to avoid passing out and when he found it, he seized it and hung to it for dear life.

Kaz had heard people say love arrived at the most unexpected times, bloomed in the most unlikely places. People said love wasn't something you chose, something you could control, not a concept you could welcome or shut out of your life at your convenience.

Kaz deemed those people foolish, weak for not being able to control themselves, and as the cold mastermind he was, Kaz brushed off all of their comments. And he would have kept thinking that way if it hadn't been for Y/N during a warm summer evening.

The Crow Club was surprisingly empty, everyone was in a relaxed state, currently resting after a successful heist. Kaz had been working in his office, signing contracts when a soft knock sounded against his door, Y/N peered inside and after receiving Kaz's consent, stepped through the threshold.

Y/N sat in front of his desk, a small smile playing on her face, ensued by a moment of silence, Y/N started talking. Kaz's head perked up at the sound of her voice, eyes leaving the papers to direct his whole attention to her but he had been completely caught off guard by the sight before him.

Y/N's mouth was moving but Kaz's couldn't hear a thing, it was as if someone had stolen the sound so he could only focus on Y/N's heavenly form.

Y/N's hair was slightly disheveled, gusts of wind occasionally brushing lonely strands into different directions, soft locks swishing in compass with a nonexistent melody. Sunset rays filtered through the window, lighting up Y/N's features. Sunlight beams fell gently down the slope of her nose, gently caressed her long lashes, and kissed her tender lips giving them a reddish hue.

At that moment, Kaz realized how dreadfully unjust the world was. How come was the wind able to run his breezy fingers across her beautiful hair? How could the rain brush her skin lovingly without repelling at the idea of skin contact? Why could the Sun kiss her graceful lips and he couldn't?

Kaz wanted to hold her, reach for her whenever he wanted without fear of drowning. He wanted to hug her and nuzzle his nose in her hair affectionately. He wanted to know what her skin felt like under his fingertips. Kaz wanted to know the taste of her lips.

Because he was in love with her.

________

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Y/N laid immobile in his bed, her skin almost as pale as his sheets, soft breaths escaped her lungs. Kaz sat in a chair near her fragile body, his frown deepened every time his eyes landed on a different wound.

Kaz felt like in a déjà vu, a vision that had happened exactly three weeks ago. This was the reason why Kaz had pushed her, why he had evicted her from the Slat, the one home she had ever known. But did it matter? All his efforts to keep her safe had been in vain.

That fateful night, when she had been the distraction in a supposed easy heist, everything had come tumbling down. The nightmares had started back then, where he first saw her all bloodied and beaten and unconscious. They didn't know if she would ever wake up. Kaz had refused to visit her, images of his nine-year-old self seeing her amongst the corpses in the Reaper's Barge haunted his days.

When she had woken up he'd wanted to see her, but he couldn't bring himself to because he knew what he had to do. Kaz couldn't bear the thought of her dying, he couldn't imagine her gone, but if he gave her hope, if she saw how much he cared, she would refuse to leave. He needed her to stay away for her safety

So he had done that, he had ruthlessly yanked his heart out of his chest when he had kicked her out. The words he had said to her tortured him since that day: "Do not think that just because I have kept you around for this long you're irreplaceable." And when he thought he couldn't feel more pain, Y/N had started crying. Silent droplets fell down her cheeks and Kaz felt as if the most savage assassin had ripped his heart into shreds.

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Seating there, silently watching Y/N's closed eyes, he was experiencing it all again. When they had found her she had been tied to a chair, unmoving, in one of the Dime Lion's warehouses. He swore his heart had stopped beating, she couldn't be dead, when Nina had checked for her heartbeat and announced it was still there, Kaz's heart reanimated.

Nina had done her best to heal her and now the only thing there was to do was wait until she woke up. This time Kaz had refused to leave her bedside. This time he would do things differently.

He had been a coward, he now realized. He should have never let her go. He should have been braver, stronger, he should have protected her. Now he realized he wanted, no, needed her with him. He had been too scared worrying for the future that he had forgotten to enjoy the present. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Kaz?"

His head shot back to Y/N. She was awake, she was alive and he would never let her go.

And with such a fervent emotion, he couldn't have thought himself capable of expressing, he said "Please, don't ever leave me again. "

Thanks for the song recommendation @itsemy01

Taglist:

@getawayfrommewerewolf, @lady1505, @rika90, @thedelusionreaderbitch, @coffeewithoutcaffeine, @aleksanderwh0r3, @princessleah129, @subjecta13-thefangirl

[toxicbubblegum212]

Bowers gang ~ After a fist fight ~

Hey want more check out my masterlist

Masterlist here (click me)

Henry

-He ignores you knowing that you want more and more of his attention.

- Henry would feel actually pretty proud of himself.

- Henry enjoys seeing the blood stains on his knuckles, makes him feel strong and power full.

- Henry would wear his bruises and scraps like metals and he would flaunt them for everyone to see.

- Don't be surprised if Henry also becomes more cocky

- Henry would also become more affectionate with his confidence boost and expect him to want to have lots of hot sex.

- The more Henry wins the more people he's gonna challenge...

- It's concerning because its not always a fair fight, sometimes he will have is gang, other times he wont. But not if he risks losing.

- Henry hates the thought of losing, his inner ego will be very hurt and he will just become more aggressive.

- Henry loves fighting so its not uncommon for him to fight with friends, not with the intent to hurt them...most of the time.

- Henry also kinda likes the attention he gets out of you. Though he acts like a complete jerk.

- Lets say you approach him asking him if he's ok, he'll just smuggly smirk at you or not even pay attention to what your saying,

-He ignores you knowing that you want more and more of his attention

Patrick:

- Patrick will feel one of two things, super accomplished and have a massive ego boost or become even more sickeningly psycho.

- Patrick defiantly lives for the blood and gore

- Heck you wouldn't be surprised if he licks the blood off his hands and all over his fingers.

- Because of the exposure to violence Patrick we be particularly more rough when handling you.

- Patrick has blood lust a fight easily triggers this, if he can get it this some how into your relationship or sex life he will.

- Patrick will probably not ask for your consent cause he knows you don't have the guts to leave him and that you will learn to like him eventually.

- Patrick will probably stay like this for about a week, the more bloody fights he gets into the more he craves the violence.

- Its best f you try and stay out of his grasp during these times.

- This is when Patrick will use and literally abuse you to the max.

- Henry actually feels bad for you, he sees the amount of cuts, bruises and bandages you have. So he will actually try and help you, much to your surprise.

- The gang doesn't agree with the treatment Patrick gives you behind close doors and in there presents.

- But sometimes even the gang is scared. Patrick thinks he's a god and he isn't afraid of fucking u up.

- This boy will sneak in through your bedroom window and strangle you in your sleep!

- So yeah your kinda permanently stuck with this psycho, i hope you have fun.

Victor:

- Victor would have to be really frickin pissed off to get into a fist fight with someone.

- Depending on the mood and what happened Victor will either accept your support or completely flat out refuse it.

- Victor usually liked being fussed over, when you kiss his checks and tent to his wounds.

- Victor just soaks up all the attention.

- He would of course give you plenty kisses back.

- Others day Victor might act a bit cold and ignore you.

- This would only be if he thinks its your fault for the situation or your not giving the love and attention he wants.

- You usually aren't to worried most of the time you either give him space or all the time in the world. Eventually he will come back around.

- Victor is actually surprisingly good when it comes to fist fighting.

- Though Victor hates it when your watching, he feels like even worser of a person.

- Victor overall would rather not get into a physical fight all together.

Belch:

- He can like dismantle faces

- Do not mess with this boy, he will mess with you big time.

- Belch is even worse then Henry.

- Belch literally all he needs is one punch and your done for.

- He can like dismantle faces, your luck is you will even be recognised after he beats the shit out of you.

- It takes a lot to get Belch to this point, so you would have to have messed up big time.

- Belch after the fight can still be pretty mad and aggressive but you presents will definitely calm him down.

- Belch would honestly just rather cuddle up to you on the couch and forget about it all. Cause its not worth all the stress.

- Everyone form then on would know not to mess with Belch or you.

- Thats the best part, you immediately get respect and live happily.

- Henry would never challenge Belch when he goes sicko mode.

- Patrick might if he drunk enough

- Victor just tries his best to calm him down as his buddy.

[superbabetotherescue]

Thanks, Brucie-Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1840

Summary: You reminisce on your childhood with your best friend

Warnings: some violence, none really described in detail except reader getting punched in the face (as an alternative to getting teeth pulled), do teeth need their own warning bc they might, probably swearing but idk, kinda sad but don’t worry it’s fluffy, Bruce is a lil bitch but isn’t that kinda par for the course?

A/N: Once again this is just an old oneshot I have that I like a weird amount for no reason. You can read it as platonic or romantic it’s up to you idk but I’m lowkey thinking of making it into a series as platonic best friends so idk. I mean you’re reading it if you want it to be romantic that’s fine lmao I don’t care

Growing up one of Gotham’s elite may be a charmed life, but that didn’t mean that it was without its faults. You had spent your time being ignored by your parents, and your best friend, Bruce Wayne, became an orphan during a back alley robbery when the two of you were kids.

Or at least, former best friend.

In truth, you hadn’t seen Bruce in a while.

Well, you saw him constantly on the news and in the papers and just existing in Gotham in general, but you never got to see him face to face anymore.

Not for lack of trying, either. You sat down one night, the fifth time that Bruce had blown you off to meet for dinner in the past month, and pulled out your old photo album.

There was your fifth birthday party, a year or two after you had met Bruce in mega rich kid preschool, and there the two of you were, sharing a chair and staring at your huge birthday cake.

And the next picture, your favorite, the two of you covered in said birthday cake.

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

“Brucie,” You had cried,  whispering to him frantically, “Brucie, I got frosting on my dress!”

You were wearing a frilly pink dress that your mother had forced upon you, and in a moment of excitement you had leaned forward a little too far, and now the pale buttercream frosting covered your bodice.

“Uh oh,” Bruce breathed out slowly, adjusting his tie, pink to match your dress, and looking down at his own tiny three piece suit.

You were panicking, breathing heavily, “My mom is gonna be so mad!”

With a quick tug to your pigtails, Bruce shook his head, “I got this, Y/N.”

He reached forward and scooped a large chunk of the cake out, turning to you and smashing it against your chest quickly.

“Ah!” You jumped backwards, “Bruce!”

“Come on, hit me back,” Bruce hissed, grabbing another handful of cake and smushing it into your face.

As his plan dawned on you, you nodded, getting your own chunk of cake and throwing it at him, laughing delightedly as it landed in his hair.

“Bruce!” Mrs. Wayne scolded, running forward and crouching next to her son, who was currently trying to wrestle you, “You’re such a mess. Ms. Y/L/N, I’m so sorry for my son’s behavior!”

Your mother merely shook her head, smiling pleasantly, “Oh please, don’t worry about it, Martha. Those two are always getting into trouble.”

Victory!

You leaned over to your best friend with a wide grin, wrapping him in a tight hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

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

Flipping a few pages, you chuckled at what you saw.

Your face and Bruce’s fist matching in bloodiness, and a huge gap where your teeth were missing.

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

You were twelve years old, and you had five loose teeth. Your last five baby teeth. All in a row next to each other.

And, like most twelve year olds, you had a healthy fear of the dentist.

“They want me to go to the dentist tomorrow to get the teeth pulled!” You complained to Bruce, the two of you laying in his living room under the guise of studying.

He shrugged, “You just have to get them out before the dentist, right? Just keep wiggling.”

“I’ve been wiggling!” You sat up, shaking your head, “It’s not working. I need a new approach.  Maybe Alfred can make something sticky for me to eat and the teeth will get stuck in it. Like that toffee your-”

You froze, not looking at Bruce anymore.

His hand touched yours gently, and you turned to see a small, sad smile on his face, “Like the toffee my father used to make at Christmas? That would be good. But Alfred’s working on something, I think.”

Nodding, you hmm’d quietly to yourself for a moment, “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t let the dentist pull my teeth. I just can’t do it, Brucie.”

“Don’t call me Brucie,” He scowled, but you knew he didn’t really care.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, pushing your teeth back and forth with your tongue as the two of you thought.

“I have an idea,” Bruce stood, extending his hand out to you, “But it’s a little unorthodox.”

If he hadn’t been offering to help you, you would’ve rolled your eyes at the way he spoke.

You rose next to him, nodding, “Anything! Anything that keeps me out of the dentist’s chair.”

He took a breath, deep, slow, thoughtful. His hand reached out towards your face, thumb stroking your lips, palm cupping your jaw and cheek.

What was he doing?

And then he reared his fist back, and punched you in the face.

It hurt, that was for certain, but it was well concentrated in one place, and you coughed as you choked on the teeth, spitting them into your hand.

“There’s only four,” You frowned, counting them quickly.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” He held his fist back out, and you saw the fifth tooth embedded in his knuckle, “You can have it back.”

With a chuckle you plucked the tooth out and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

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

Alfred had a field day with that one, you remembered, but it was still better than going to the dentist.

With a few more flicks of pages, you felt your heart catch in your throat.

Prom night.

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

5:30.

Your date was supposed to come meet you at Wayne Manor at 5:30 so that you could go out with Bruce and his pretty blonde arm candy.

And now it was 6:45, and he still wasn’t there.

You’d been pacing the parlor of the Manor for two hours. Bruce and his date kept disappearing to make out in various rooms, and Alfred had stopped standing at the front door and had instead begun to busy himself in the kitchen.

And you were crying.

“Shit,” You hissed, wiping a tiny smear of eyeliner out from under your eye.

You weren’t going to cry over him. Especially not after you’d spent three hours on your makeup. You couldn’t do it.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just leave her,” You heard The Blonde complain to Bruce in the next room over, “She’s totally bringing down the mood.”

“Hey, back off,” Bruce sighed, “She’s my best friend. I’m not leaving her all alone on prom night. Maybe she can just come out with us.“

“I’m not spending my prom night with some loser who got stood up by her own date.”

You bit your lip, swallowing back a sob and then speaking loudly enough for them to know they were meant to hear you, “Hey, Bruce? I think I’m just gonna go, okay? Sorry for holding you guys up.”

“Wait,” Bruce opened the door to the closet he and his date were in, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, don’t go.”

The Blonde gasped indignantly, and you shook your head, “No, seriously Bruce, don’t worry about it. I’m just-”

“Don’t leave, Y/N,” He said again, and the solidness of his words, the complete authority in how he said it, was enough to freeze you, “I’m taking you to prom. You can’t leave me.”

What?

“What?” The Blonde shrieked, stomping her heel on the ground, “You’re not taking her, you’re taking me!”

Bruce gave her a rather pleasant smile, “Actually, I’m not. I think you’re a stone cold bitch and if I look at you for any longer than fifteen more seconds, I think I’ll vomit. Now get out of my house,” And with that, waving a dismissive hand at her, he turned to you and grinned, “Now, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of being my date to prom?”

A burst of energy running through you, you sprang forward and wrapped him up in a hug, “Absolutely. Thanks, Brucie.”

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

Closing your photo album, you sighed.

It felt like just yesterday in so many ways, and yet a million years ago.

What had happened between you two? What had you done to drive him away? Maybe a walk would clear your head.

You grabbed your keys and left, walking the streets of Gotham and thinking of your younger days.

There was a playground where you and Bruce would sometimes sneak off to play, halfway between both of your houses. It was where you had taught him how to throw a punch when you were six, where he had taught you how to cartwheel when you were eight, and where you two had shared your first kiss when you were ten.

You laughed at that memory too, wishing you had a picture in your album of that day, when the two of you had decided to be each other’s first kiss just so you’d know what you were getting yourselves into.

You’d sat on top of the monkey bars, staring into each other’s eyes as you came to your solemn decision, and leaned forward to give each other the briefest of pecks on the lips. And then you’d both fallen off the monkey bars, wiping your mouths and gagging dramatically.

Standing by those monkey bars, you ran your hands down the side with a smile.

And then you felt the cold barrel of a gun press into the back of your neck.

“Give me all your money, and get on your knees,” A dark voice growled.

Crap.

How could you let yourself be taken completely by surprise, in Gotham of all places?

Shaking, you tried to speak, your voice catching in your throat, “I… I don’t…”

“Hey!” A familiar voice sounded through the air, cutting you off, “Back off!”

You felt the  rounded metal leave your skin and let out a sigh of relief.

Spinning on your heel, you watched as your attacker, a large man with a ski mask pulled over his face, so cliche, got the crap beaten out of him by…

“Batman?” You gasped.

Of course!

Batman wrapped an arm around you, scoffing at the thug on the ground, and shot a grappling hook into the air.

As you felt yourself fly your head spun, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

So this was why he kept standing you up. Why he always came up with some flimsy excuse. He couldn’t just tell you he was the Batman, and besides, the mystery of it all was surely an ego thing for him.

You landed outside your house a moment later, the dark suit encompassing Batman just intimidating enough for you to almost take a step back as he rumbled, “You should be more careful. Especially at night.”

But you couldn’t take his warning seriously.

Your best friend wasn’t avoiding you, he didn’t hate you, he just had a secret!

You were too ecstatic to pay his advice any mind.

And so you simply wrapped him in a hug, your arms erupting into goosebumps against the cold armor that he wore, “Thanks, Brucie.”

[nukapind]

Hey, could I request an angsty one shot of Dabi where his civilian s/o had recently passed away but nobody knows about it because he kept the relationship secret. And he tries to act as if nothing happened but in reality every little thing reminds him of his s/o and at some point when he is alone he just cant take it anymore and breaks down. Thankss

One Last Time (Dabi x Reader)

It’s a little short but I hope you enjoy! It was fun to kinda try to put myself in his shoes! Feel free to send in more requests, and like always, this was crossposted to my AO3

Trigger warning for: angst, blood, and death.

___

He did his best to make sure nobody was in the apartment when he visited— boxes were already packed and sealed off with tape, your family’s doing no doubt.

The rage he’d felt when he first found out of your death had been insurmountable to anything he’d felt before, worse than anything he’d felt before he left home. Fury nestled its way in his bones, searing through his body as he watched the news broadcast. The last earthquake hadn’t been the worst Japan had faced, but the building you’d been in hadn’t been up to code. Collapsing upon itself, you’d probably been there; waiting for a hero to come save you. They didn’t.

Out of all the people in that building, there was only one fucking  casualty. A smiling picture of you on the screen stared him in the eyes. He’d cursed every god he could think of that night. The heroes he’d always hated had failed again, stealing one of the only things that made the world feel right. They’d suffer the exact same pain that you’d felt in your last moments.

That’d have to wait though, just for tonight at least.

Your apartment was already being packed up by your family, every little memory you had was being shoved into boxes that’d never be opened again. He’d never cared for the knickknacks you had laying around, but you’d always loved them. The apartment felt empty without them.

Mud trailed in from his boots as he wandered through the house, it’d be cleaned up anyways by whoever came in here tomorrow— it didn’t matter too much now that you wouldn’t scold him for the mess he brought in with him. He fucking missed that scolding, how you’d get frustrated whenever he’d come home after having been missing for weeks. Missed the delighted look on your face when he brought takeout after a shitty day. Missed how he’d wake up and see you curled next to him before he had to go out on a job.

He missed it all and it hurt.

He found himself in front of the mirror, staring at himself— the counter was too empty, too clean. All your stupid little soaps and towels were missing, and even though they always ended up knocked over after he visited, it was wrong that they were gone.

Wrong.

This was all so fucking wrong.

Why the hell was he gone when you needed him most?

He worked so damn hard to keep you away from everything, from his work. His absences had been for a reason, always to protect you. If he’d known that would have been your downfall, he would have stayed. The world could rot with those pretenders in charge, if it meant you were alive.

Dabi’s jaw clenched at the sight of his reflection, you needed him and he let you suffer. Were you pleading for him in your last moments? Begging for him to come and save you? How long had you prayed for him to swoop in and help you? Blue eyes stared right at the mirror, a copy of the same eyes that had tormented him as a child. The same eyes that had promised him that heroes were scum.

His fist shot out, colliding with the mirror— glass embedding itself into his knuckles, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. Chest heaved and those blue eyes burned, but he couldn’t fucking cry, another thing he could thank heroes for.

You were dead and he couldn’t even shed a tear.

Nausea built up inside him, bubbling deep in his stomach. Ignoring the pain in his hand, if it got infected then so be it— he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it right now. Stumbling through the house, he found himself in the bedroom, the one you two had shared just two weeks ago. Bloodied and feeling a pit deep in his chest, he collapsed on the plastic-covered bed. He’d get his payback from those false heroes: the ones who couldn’t even save you. It was their fault.

Before he did, he just needed to stay here just one last time.

Masterlist

[snickiebear]

yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)

ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you. 

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them. 

As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are. 

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

OMGG okok 

@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. 

@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn 

@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL. 

fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks

i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A. 

When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip. 

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH. 

@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about. 

@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it. 

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA

Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka

Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it. 

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay. 

I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time. 

Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH

Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?

Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.

Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps. 

As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing. 

It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.

Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA  

40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?

AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO

so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.

Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.” 

The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic. 

I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))

ask me shit plz

[pressedinthepages]

Precarious

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n:  Reader Request [Your Jaskier stories 🙌🏻 they're so good!! Can I pls make a request for some insecure Jaskier?? Maybe reader travels with them and his kinda with Jask already, but after seeing Geralt shout at him, (after the dragon), she leaves with him cos she's worried. She didn't hear what Geralt said, so during the trip to the nearest inn, she's just trying to talk to him but by the time they get a room he's a mess. Asking whether he ruins everything he touches and just brings shit onto people like Geralt said 😭 and reader shows him how loved he is.....theeen some nice loving smut as a cherry on top pls 😂🤞 You really capture his dramatics and deep heart ❤️ he's a sensitive soul really! ❤️]  <3 ooof its been a moment since ive written some angst...but here it is!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, sad bard times

Jaskier is in dire need after the events of the dragon hunt.

    The breeze is cool on your face as you gaze over the mountains, so caught up in the majestic scenery that you nearly miss when Jaskier walks by. He looks lost, dazed as his nails dig into the worn leather of his lute case. His steps drag heavily across the ground as he approaches the head of the trail. Jaskier turns at the last second, his eyes searching the clearing until they land on you, shining with unshed tears. 

    You rush to his side, not even bothering to look behind you. You set your hand on his shoulder and look up at him, trying desperately to reach him in that emotionless void. “Jaskier?”

    He says nothing, which is worrying in and of itself. Jaskier’s hair flops in his eyes as he nods resolutely, beginning the steps that will take him down the mountain. You glance behind you, seeing only the remaining few members of the expedition mulling about the clearing with no sign of Geralt or Yennefer. With a deep breath in, you turn on your heel to follow in Jaskier’s wake.

    The whole trip down is completed in near silence, a suffocating vigil that is only rarely interspersed with the idea to rest for the evening. You can see Jaskier still trying to stop and take in the beauty around him, but it never lasts long. Soon enough, he wilts like a flower falling from a vase and turns back to the trail.

        You try to help, but it’s clear that Jaskier isn’t quite ready to discuss what has been eating away at his mind. He bites his tongue and curls in on himself, even shying away from you when you sit around the fire at night. One night though, probably the last before you make it back down to Caingorn, you hesitantly reach out and take his hand, bringing his eyes up to you.

    “Jaskier, is it something that I did?”

    Jaskier swallows thickly, shaking his head. “No, my love. You’ve done so much more for me than I deserve.”

    His voice trails off at the end and he looks back down, closing himself off. You scoot closer and take Jaskier in your arms, letting him lay heavily against you. You press your lips to the top of his head and fight to hold back your own tears, needing so desperately to hear that sweet humming that so often accompanies your love. The two of you fall asleep like this, staving off emotions too big to handle alone. 

    Rain pours from the sky the entire next day, leaving you both soaked and cold to the core as you stumble into town. Thankfully there is an inn nearby, and the two of you move frantically towards it. Your boots splash through the mud as you approach and you make sure to kick off as much as you can before pushing open the door. 

    You approach the innkeeper, who offers a reduced rate for the room in exchange for a night of entertainment from Jaskier. You turn her down though, sliding the higher amount of coin across the table, along with enough for a warm bath. She hands you a key, as well as an armful of cloth so that you may dry off. 

    You return to Jaskier’s side and offer a small smile, pulling him carefully up the stairs to the bedroom. The two of you systematically remove your packs and cloaks, draping the sopping fabric over a chair next to the fire so it has a chance to dry. You grab Jaskier by the hand once more, the two of you kicking off your boots before you pull him back out of the room and towards the bathing room at the end of the hall. 

    The air is already thick with warmth, settling on your skin and deep in your lungs. You see the tub sitting strong in the middle of the room, water high to the edge and threatening to spill out. “Let’s get you warm, Jaskier.”

    He nods, still biting his tongue as he fiddles with the clasps at his wrists. You reach out and undo the buttons yourself, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed inside of his wrist. His doublet is cool under your fingers as you slide it open, your lips moving up to the tender skin over his collarbone peeks from underneath his chemise. The doublet gets carefully folded and set aside before your hands return, pushing up the hem of Jaskier’s chemise and stroking the warm skin that you find there. 

    Jaskier draws in a deep breath as you trace lazy patterns over his stomach and around his back, his own hands finding your waist. You push the shirt up over his head and set it aside as well, and Jaskier rests his forehead on yours with a sigh. His trousers are next, the buttons quickly undone before they hit the floor, followed soon after by his smallclothes. 

    Jaskier’s hands, still chilled from the rain that pounds over the roof, toy with the hem of your tunic before you push them away. His eyes find yours, full of worry and sadness. “Not now, love. Let me help you, please,” you whisper, pressing your hand to his neck and feeling the fluttering of his pulse beneath your fingers. 

    He does not argue before stepping back, turning to climb into the bath. Warm water spills over the edge as he sinks deep, plunging his head underneath so his teeth chatter with the quite sudden temperature change. You find the oils and soaps set on a small stool near the bath. You move them so that you can sit on the stool behind Jaskier, the little glass bottles resting on the floor next to you. 

    You find one that smells of rosemary and citrus, a bright scent in great contrast to the bard before you. Your fingers find his scalp, running in soft circles that press into his temples. In the stifling absence, you begin to hum. Jaskier turns his head at the sound, listening as your voice meanders through melodies. When his hair is sufficiently clean, you smooth your hands down the line of his neck and over his shoulders, trying to squeeze warmth back into the tense muscles.

    Jaskier relaxes bit by bit as you scoot around to face him, washing down his arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. You dance over his knuckles and a couple of little scars that decorate the back of his hand, picked up from decades on the Path. Jaskier suddenly ducks back under the water, rinsing away the final evidence of the road and the rain. 

    He gasps as he comes back up, still holding tight to your hand. You brace yourself, knowing now is the time to ask, to draw him out. “Jaskier,” you murmur, “please, my love. What happened?”

    Jaskier’s chest breaks with a sob and you squeeze his hand even tighter. “I-it’s my fault, really,” he whispers, “I pushed too hard, and I ruined it…”

    “Ruined what, Jaskier?”

    He looks away, his lip wobbling with every breath. “Geralt. H-he was trying to tell me to leave him be, but I didn’t listen, I never listen. And, then he bade me my leave.”

    You shake your head, waiting for him to continue. “He said that-that if life could give him one blessing, one bloody thing, it would be to take me off of his hands.”

    Your eyes widen and the grip you have on Jaskier’s hand turns sharp. Tears run freely down Jaskier’s cheeks, his eyes rimmed red and his heart worn raw. “I figured that leaving would be the kindest thing I could do, at least for him.”

    “Jaskier,” you breathe, surging forward without care for the state of your clothes. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry, you don’t deserve that. You have spent half of your life dedicated to him, trying to make his life better. And this is what you get in return?”

    You wrap your arms around his neck as he sobs into your shoulder, holding him close as he works through it. Water soaks through at your stomach and thighs where they press against the tub, but you couldn’t care less. 

    “I promise you, Jaskier,” you run your fingers slowly through his still-damp hair, “you are a treasure. And if Geralt can’t see that, well. He doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

    Jaskier sniffles against your neck, “But he’s my friend. He was my friend, and I just kept pushing-”

    “He lashed out, love,” you murmur, “it’s no excuse, but there were just too many feelings and he got overwhelmed. He probably already regrets it.”

    Jaskier nods, still holding fast to your waist. You can feel his fingers rubbing the soft fabric of your shirt back and forth. You sit like this for a long while, the bathwater turning cold as the moon begins to climb into the sky. 

    Jaskier starts to fidget though, his hands unable to stay still and his nose brushing up the length of your neck. You pull away, catching the glint that has finally returned to those glorious blue eyes. 

    “It would be a shame for all of this bath to go to waste, my dear.” Jaskier’s voice is still thin, but with his usual vigor quickly returning. “Why don’t you join me?”

            He winks and purses his lips, begging for a kiss. You chuckle, relieved to see him returning to himself. You lean down and press your lips together chastely, letting him grumble a bit when you move back. “You are incorrigible, darling,” you laugh, “and you are sorely mistaken if you think that I’m about to get into that filthy, freezing water.”

    Jaskier pouts, turning his eyes all big and sad, but now because you won’t climb into the bath. You smile, getting up to grab one of the big cloths. “Here, love. Let’s get you dry, and then we can go back to the room.”

    Jaskier huffs good-naturedly as he stands, the water cascading off of him in fast rivulets. He is half-hard as he walks over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you start to rub the dry cloth over his skin. “Thank you, my dear. For everything.”

    “Always, Jaskier. Always.”

    The two of you walk hand in hand back down the hallway, Jaskier holding his clothes beneath his free arm. He chucks them aside as soon as you close the bedroom door behind you, sweeping you into his grasp. His lips find your neck and he starts to nibble and lick at the tender skin. 

    “Oh,” you breathe as he finally, finally, starts to hum again. It’s teasing, a saucy song that only ever gets sung while half-drunk in a run-down tavern in the middle of nowhere. The sheet falls to the ground as Jaskier pulls your tunic over your head, casting it to the side. He kisses down to your breasts as he pulls your belt open, pushing your trousers down frantically and squeezing your behind as you step out of them. 

    “Go lay on the bed, love,” he whispers, his eyes dark and lusty. You do as he says, leaning back against the soft pillows. Jaskier moves to the edge of the bed slowly before climbing atop you. The hairs on his chest tickle the sensitive skin of your breasts as he presses down to kiss you deeply. His tongue snakes into your mouth and you feel his length push hard into your hip.

"Please, Jaskier," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. His forehead rests against yours as he glances down, taking himself in hand and lining up with your cunt. He presses in slowly, pulling a low groan from both of your chests. Your walls clench around him as he buries himself deep in your core. Beads of sweat start to dot his temples and your nails dig little crescents into his arms.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier groans, finding your lips once more as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips. Your core burns with the sensation, stealing your breath with each snap of his hips. Heat crawls up your stomach and settles high in your chest as you hook your ankles around Jaskier’s hips. 

“Jaskier, I love you so much,” you whisper, and Jaskier whimpers into where he worries a love bite into your neck. “I would move the sun and the stars if you were to only ask. And I know that you would do the same for me.”

Jaskier’s pace falters as he readjusts, pushing up onto his elbows to look at you properly. His mouth hangs agape as he slowly rolls his hips, hitting deep in your core. You wrap a hand to hold the nape of his neck, pulling him down to you. You meet his hips at every thrust, reveling in the feeling of Jaskier pressed so impossibly close against you. 

    Your climax washes over you like a steady tide, a breath held in before a much-needed exhale. Jaskier follows in the same heartbeat, his cock spending deep inside of you as he gasps your name. 

    The two of you stay like this for a while, only adjusting when you start to clench from oversensitivity. Jaskier rolls over and pulls you with him, both of you laying on your sides facing each other. He slides his elbow beneath your head and you wind your arm around his waist, touching each other in as many places as possible.

    “I meant it, Jask,” you murmur as sleep tugs at the strands of your mind, “I love you more than anything else. I need you to know that.”

    Jaskier yawns with a smile, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I know, my dear. And I love you so exorbitantly much that it almost hurts. But it is the sweetest pain one could ever have the great pleasure of feeling. And I would gladly feel it to the end of my days, at your side.”

    “And there is nowhere that I would rather you be.”

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite (Chapter 2- Suspire)

AN: Chapter 2 is here friends! I appreciate all the kind feedback I received last chapter! Without further ado...

Previous Chapter: https://pepperimps01.tumblr.com/post/644922844412854272/frostbite-casetello-an-do-these-two-have-a-ship

~~~~

"So, can I go now?" Casey asked impatiently, trying to flex his arm. "I've got places to be, slowpoke."

Donnie glared at him, irritated. He seemed even more frustrated that Casey had made that semi flirty jab at him.  "Like where?"

"You know...around." He gave a toothy grin.

"Very specific, Jones."

"I like to think I'm very pacific."

"That's-"

"Actually..." Casey wiggled his eyebrows. "Red wanted to talk to me about something. Maybe a bit more than talk if you know what I mean..." He shrugged. "Can't exactly blame her. I'm a catch."

'We aren't there yet, Jones.'

'Is it about April? Because it's not my fault, she ...y'know likes me more.'

Donnie's heart plummeted, dropping the scalpel he was holding. It crashed by his feet loudly, but he didn't bother picking it up.  "You better go then." He said coldly.

"Are you sure? Because I wanted to tell you some-"

"Just leave!" He snapped. "Can't you tell I'm busy? I've got retromutagen to work on."

"Jeez, okay. Don't get your tail in a knot." The teen raised his hands in surrender.

Casey stumbled out of the lab, dazed and confused. His arm thankfully didn't hurt anymore, but he still felt a bit uneasy and sick to his stomach. He really just wanted to take a nap, forget about everything that happened and maybe never work with Donatello again. Couldn't that turtle take a joke?

He needed a distraction...

"CJ!" Mikey exclaimed, leaping towards him with a stupid grin on his face. Casey yelped, taken aback by the orange turtle's enthusiasm. At least that was a distraction alright.  "You won't believe this, dude!"

Casey smirked. "You know, I'm starting to think everything is believable at this point. What's up? Did you discover a new pizza joint?"

The smallest turtle looked about ready to explode with excitement. "Nope! Can't tell you yet, bro.  Come on, Leo's explaining everything at the dojo! I'm just getting you and Donnie! I'm ...Mikey the messenger!" And then he was off again, no doubt badgering Donatello.

Casey shook his head, laughing. Though he was somewhat curious about whatever the leader in blue had to say.

He entered the dojo, checking if Master Splinter was behind him. He trusted the old ninja master, and couldn't deny he was a big help...but that didn't stop him from flinching every time they made eye contact. Rats still gave him the creeps.

Raph and April were already there, chatting amongst themselves. Raph was currently practicing opening and closing April's tessen.

"I dunno, it just seems a bit..." He trailed off.

"A bit what, Raph?" April's eyebrows furrowed. "Go on, finish that sentence."

"It's not very sharp, that's all." As he said this, the tip of the fan poked his finger and he let out a squawk of pain.

"Not very sharp, huh?" April swiped the fan back. "Remember this from me: don't judge everything by its outer appearance."

"Touché." Raph waved at Casey, and the pair did an elaborate secret hand shake.

"What's this about anyway?" He folded his arms.

"Beats us." Raph shrugged. "All Mikey said was-" He changed his voice to a high pitched, cruel but accurate impression of his youngest brother. "Dudes you've gotta hear this! I'm gonna cry on the floor if you don't come to the dojo right this second!"

"It must be big if Leo wants to tell us." April said. "I mean, all Raph and I dealt with was the Purple Dragons graffiting a stop sign."

"It was a slow night!" Raph protested.  

"Maybe they saw Karai?" Casey suggested. That was really the only thing he could think of.

Mikey bounded into the dojo, followed by an extremely disgruntled Donnie, who made a big show of standing as far away from Casey as possible.

"What's all this about?" Donnie asked.

The single light bulb above them started to burn out. The team heard shuffling from behind the large tree, and a shadowy figure approached them, stepping into the dimly lit middle area. He dramatically raised his head, looking grim.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here this evening." Leo said, glancing at Mikey, who of course already knew and was wiggling with excitement.

"Well, yeah. Spit it out, already." Raph said impatiently.

Leo ignored him. "Mikey and I encountered something tonight.  Another mutant. We thought we caught them all or made allies with them but..."

"What?" His emerald eyes widened.

"What is it?" Donnie pressed.

"A dragon!" Mikey interrupted. "A humongous dragon! He had razor sharp teeth and claws!" He paused. "Actually he kinda reminded me of Leatherhead but way less friendly."

"Dragons aren't real, meathead." Donnie grumbled. "They're completely made up fictional stories."

"Have you ever seen a dragon before? Huh? Have you Donnie?" Mikey retorted, cloudy blue eyes filled with a sense of innocence that truly believed dragons were real- but also with a stubborn pride to prove his genius brother wrong. A common occurrence between the two youngest brothers.

"No but-"

"See?" Mikey looked triumphedley at Donnie, then turned back to Leo. "Continue,"

"Like I...and I guess Mikey was saying, we know it's some type of reptile. Not a dragon for sure, but something."

"Any distinctive features?" Donnie asked, snark evident in his tone. "There are over 8000 living species of reptiles, so you might need to be more specific."

"Ah, shut up Brainiac." Raph groaned.

"He's got a point though." Casey pointed out. "Not that I'm agreeing with him- I mean...there are like, a lot of reptiles out there."

"We didn't get a close look at it, I'm afraid. We had to retreat. Whatever it was, it was tough."

"And...kinda scary." Mikey said, hiding behind his oldest brother wearily.

"Fear is the path to the dark side, Mikey." Leo said firmly, patting his head. "Don't let your fear cloud your judgment. We can take it on. Just like we always do."

The group stared at the leader blankly.

"Did you really just quote Yoda?"  April said, covering her mouth to stop her giggles.

"Wh- nooo..." Leo blushed, leaning against the tree in a failed attempt to seem casual. "Why would I do that? That's totally ...lame." Clearing his throat, he continued: "Tomorrow we'll hold a stake out to find this mutant. I'm thinking they may have a chance to be an ally. Any questions?"

Mikey raised his hand. "Are you sure we can't have a pizza out instead? I'm not really a fan of steak and-"

"Any relevant questions?"

"Has it done any actual damage?" April tilted her head.

"It looked more scared than anything, actually." said Leo. "That's why I think we can convince it to join our allegiance."

"And if it isn't willing? Suppose it isn't up for prancing through a meadow with us and decides to kill us all?" Raph said. "Because our track record with friendly mutants tends to be a mixed bag."

"You didn't answer my question, did it do any damage?"

Leo chewed on his lip. "So...don't freak out but, it- she- he? Er- they looked very hungry and did attempt to spit on us. With acid. Or venom or whatever." He pressed on, despite the horrified looks of his peers. "It'll be okay! I have full confidence we can handle this as a team."

"So let me get this straight, Leo." Raph said, moving forward to his brother. "You almost got killed by this monster and your next course of action is: let's be friends! Are you out of your shell? That plan works just as well as Casey and Donnie baking cookies together!"

"For once I agree with Raph." Donnie said, earning a very disgruntled look from his brother.

"I didn't say friends, just figure out their motives." Leo mumbled.

"Whatever you say, Fearless." Raph pushed his brother aside roughly. "Good luck with that. I'm gonna check out Bloody Deaths III, anyone wanna play with me? Casey?"

"Sure," Casey felt his phone buzz. An anxious text from his twelve year old sister Riley snapped him back to reality. "Ah...actually can't. My little sister is getting worried. See you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"No worries. Older brother duties call." Leo nodded.

"Don't worry Raph, I'll play with you!" Mikey

"So will I." Leo agreed, happy to relax for a little bit. "How about you guys?" He glanced at Donnie and April, the last remaining members still inside the dojo.

"Just a moment. I'll be right there." April confirmed.

"Don't keep us waiting," Raph cracked his knuckles.

As they were leaving the dojo, Donnie felt a tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he faced the beaming freckled face of April O' Neil.

"Hey!" She said cheerfully, blue eyes bright and curious.

"Er, um, hey!" He echoed, voice raising several octaves as puberty decided to betray him. He was grateful his brothers were in the other room, babbling about the video game Raph found in the dumpster. No doubt they would be teasing him about his failed attempt at flirting.

"I wanted to talk to you." April said.

"About the new mutant? Because I didn't get a chance to see it-"

"No, no." She interrupted, nudging his shoulder playfully. He blushed at the contact. "I meant about you and Casey. Everything turned out okay?"

Donnie fought the urge to groan. Of course it was about Jones. Instead, he bit his tongue, smiled sweetly and said: "He was...okay." he waved his hand vaguely.

April grinned, relieved. "Wow, that's way better than I expected!"

Donnie narrowed his eyes.

"What I mean is, you two are my closest friends. Seeing you two butt heads, act like you hate each other-  it hurts." She explained. "So it's nice seeing my two best buds get along.

'Best ...buds.' Donnie thought to himself, analyzing each word carefully. 'So maybe she isn't interested in him. That boy with his cocky grin and his stupid egotistical-'

"Casey mentioned you fixed his arm up too!"

"Huh?"

"His arm...he sprained it and you patched it up."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh, that." He chuckled. "Wait...he told you?"  

"Yeah, he seems grateful but obviously too 'macho' to admit that."

"It wasn't really anything special."

"But it was, Donnie." April's eyes twinkled. "It was a really nice thing to do. I'm just...so happy you two are finally getting along. Thank you. I knew you would eventually!"

"Heh, well you know."

April chuckled, taking his hand as they walked to the pit.

Mikey sprung up from his beanbag chair. "Yuck, did you two kiss?" He gagged.

April rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Raph pretended to throw up into his bowl of popcorn while Leo just laughed fondly.

"Take a seat you guys." He said. "We're about to start the game!"

"Actually I think I might call in early tonight." Donnie faked a yawn. "I'm so ...tired."

"You? Sleep?" Raph snorted. "If you didn't want to hang out with us, you could just say that. I don't think I've seen you go in your room since you were thirteen, Don."

"That's not true..." Donnie's cheeks flushed.

"Aw, leave him be." April said, grabbing a handful of popcorn despite Raphael's protests. "He needs his rest."

"Yeah, you do look significantly greener than normal, dude." Mikey pointed out.  "So to speak."

"Go get some rest." Leo said, raising a comforting hand to Donatello's shoulder. "That's an order from your leader."

"Well...goodnight then. Have fun." Donnie added an extra fake yawn for added effect, then retreated to the lab when they looked the other way.

~•~

Donatello checked his very messy notes, examining each point with precision. If he wasn't exact, weeks, heck, months of research would be a waste. He wasn't going to let anyone, let alone Casey Jones ruin his process. The lack of sleep already made his work sloppy.

"Add the dose of norepinephrine, stir carefully with the calibrated mutagen..." He mumbled under his breath. "Then wait ten minutes before..."

But he couldn't get that terribly charismatic smirk out of his mind. That no nothing, cocky little son of a-

"Focus Donnie. Don't think about him."

"Talking to yourself again I see."

"Gah!" Donnie yelped, practically doing ballet leaps as he grabbed the nearly fallen canister. He turned around to face his older, but significantly shorter brother. "Hamato Raphael!" He squeaked shrilly.

"Ooh using the full name on me." Raph snickered. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"How long have you been here?"

Raph shrugged, poking the bunsen burner. "Eh, long enough."

"Weren't you suppose to be playing that dumb game with the others?"

"Yeah, and we beat it." He said, piercing green eyes staring him down with a sense of judgement. "And I thought you were supposed to be sleeping. Shoulda have known you'd be back in your Nerd Cave." He flicked Donnie's arm.

"Why are you here?"

"Okay, twenty questions, is it against the law to see my baby brother?"

Donnie folded his arms. "Since when do you ever visit me for no reason?"

"Because I'm such a kind, caring brother?" He looked away guiltily. "Who simply wanted to check on you? Is that such a terrible thing, Donatello?" He leaned forward, dropping the act to return to his usual deadpan tone. "Also my motorcycle needs fixing."

"Ah, there it is."

"Watch the snark, I need it fixed soon."

"Fine, fine." Donnie sighed. "I will."

"Good, 'cause Casey and I are gonna hit the streets with that baby." He said smugly.

Donnie wilted. "Jones?"

Raph raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, Casey Jones. Human, dark hair, lots of missing teeth...this tall? Ring any bells? Oh, right. Forgot you and him had this thing going on..."

"It isn't about that." Donnie said quickly. "We...him and I..."

"You know, seeing you two act like idiots around each other isn't gonna help the team out. Even Mikey thinks it's stupid."

First April, now Raph? And apparently Mikey too...

"I don't care about what you and Jones do, it isn't really my business." Donnie cooled down, trying to tame his temper. "And we're trying, truly trying, at least I am to be civil."

"Hmph, yeah right."

"And ...I don't care if you two spend time together. Why should I? We aren't even friends!"

"Okay, okay." Raph raised his hands in surrender. "I'm going to bed. You should too by the looks of it. After my bike is finished, of course."

Donnie grunted.

"And Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"Who exactly are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Donatello didn't have an answer.

~•~

Everything hurt. From the depths of her scaly toes, to her ferocious gaping mouth.What was she? She didn't know anymore. A monster? A freak? Any humanity she had left, was a clouded memory and there was no turning back. She struggled to move, still becoming accustomed to her new features. Four legs were harder to maneuver than two, but she made do.

She slivered across the murky water, pains in her stomach growling from lack of proper food. She couldn't recall the last time she had a warm meal. She lifted her head, silver grey eye slits opening. . In what she lost, her human form, her hair, and sense of a normal life- she had gained quite a few things too. A keen sense of smell, for one. Her eyesight had improved too. She had also gained an olive green tail, which helped with her balance.

'As long as I don't need those pesky glasses anymore.' She thought to herself bitterly.  Those horrid things were the cause of her harassment when she was a human. Now she would have the last laugh. They would cower in fear if they saw what she looked like now.

Her stomach grumbled again.

But yet...those turtles she encountered. So tasty looking...so delectable. They would satisfy her pain.

She stared at the mutant's reflection. It blinked when she blinked. It moved its tail when she flicked it.

This was her life now. She might as well make the most of being a monster.

She had work to do.

[artisqueer]

RetroBangBoy AU - DREAM REALITY (ao3 link)

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairings: Yoongi x reader, mentions Namjoon x reader

Warnings: Mentions violence, blood/gore.

“Goddamn, it’s hot as fuck out here.” Indeed, it’s a hot sweltering day. Most of the jocks are crammed beneath the courtside canopy to find shade from the blazing sun.

“Hyung, let’s go for another round,” Jimin suggests, removing the jersey from his overheating abdomen.

“You wanna lose again that bad, huh?” Seokjin’s smirk disappears behind his jersey as he lifts it up and over his head. The sheen of sweat over his ripped shoulders is distracting to both teams. Jimin mocks his laugh then pouts.

“Be a good sport, Jiminie.” Hoseok passes him the basketball as he joins Jin’s side on the court.

The men assemble in their respective teams.

Jimin, Taehyung, and three other juniors.

Jin, Hoseok, and three other seniors.

***

It’s 3:15 pm and you’re getting off work early. Although it’s summer break, you’ve enrolled in advanced calculus for the fall and you want to be prepared. So, you’ve taken up an offer from a certain big-breasted mathematician. Yes, this is completely for academic purposes, Bighead.

There’s an unusual spring in your step as you walk the route from the concession stand to the parking lot behind campus. Someone from Joon’s crew will be there to pick you up because he’s still at work.

Your fingers brush along the chain fence as you pass by the court, deaf to the hooting and hollering of the intense game on the other side. You can’t be bothered to notice. Your head is pleasantly filled with thoughts of math figures and Namjoon’s figur—"

[POW!]

***

“Choco Pie? Wake up please, are you dead?”

“They’re not breathing.”

“Oh my god, we killed someone ㅠㅠ”

“I told you not to throw the ball so hard, Wonho.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Y/N’s seismic head came out of nowhere and pulled the ball like gravity.”

“This can’t happen! I’m so young. So beautiful. I can’t go to jail! ㅠㅠ”

“Sweetcheeks, please wake up. Guys, help me get t—"

“Move!” A voice growls and shoves them out of the way.

Your subconscious drifts back into a slumber for several minutes. Then, you hear the low voice again. Min Yoongi.

“Do any of you useless punks know mouth-to-mouth?” The group remains silent, dumbfounded. Yoongi bends over your motionless body to tilt your head back, blocking the sun as he checks your breathing. His face must be so close to yours because you can smell his cologne. There’s something that reminds you of the woody fragrance Namjoon carries, but this has a unique sapor. Something sweeter, more delicate. Suddenly his mouth is on yours. All your senses awaken and your heart jolts, snapping you out of your coma. Your eyes flutter open and stare directly into his. Is this is a dream or reality? If you died, this must be heaven.

You look around until you discern the outline of a dozen athletes standing above your head, deep concern across their faces. Several are grimacing in pain. Wonho has a bloody nose, Hoseok’s jersey is torn up, and Jimin is sulking behind him. They must take basketball very seriously, you think.

“Hey Dove,” Yoongi’s soft voice beside you pulls you back. It’s soothing in contrast to the pounding pain starting in your head, “are you okay to walk?” He taps your leg gently and you look down. It’s badly scraped from your fall.

“I think so.” You struggle to get up. Yoongi supports you by the arm carefully so you don’t fall. You feel a lump forming in your throat and your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as the collision replays in your mind. The basketball must have been thrown out-of-bounds with excessive force. Luckily you just happened to be in its direct path.

“Where are you going, Choco?” Jin asks, worried. His jaw looks swollen and red. You’re too humiliated to look at any of them. Plus, you were kinda sorta just resuscitated by the one and only Yoongi. The image of his soft lips on yours is threatening to make you faint again.

Yoongi holds you close and steps past them without a word, using his body as a protective shield between you and their questions.  “Are you okay, Y/N?...Why are you going with him?...I’m sorry….Stay with us…”

When you reach the parking lot, he points to a chopper-style motorcycle. “Harley Panhead ’48,” his gummy smile peaks through as he talks. “Ain’t she a beauty? I fixed her up myself.” He pats the leather seat proudly. Panhead? You’re still dizzy.

“Wait, Yoongi!” You nearly shout his name as you grab his arm. “What happened to your hand?”

His veiny hands are bloodied and bruised around the knuckles. He hides them away with a grunt. “It’s best if you stayed away from those punks, Y/N. They’re always starting shit. I was supposed to pick you up unharmed. Namjoon’s gonna be pissed.”

“It was just an accident. Wait, did you beat them up while I was unconscious?!” You thought Yoongi was just quiet and calm, but apparently he also has a dark side that can get intense. You look at his dark eyes and notice a fire blazing within them. This is new and you don’t know if you like it. It’s intimidating. He notices you looking and changes his demeanor.

“Get on the bike, Toots. It’s getting late.” He hands you a light jean jacket and you quickly throw it on, remembering that your delay might worry Namjoon.

Riding behind two bikers in the span of a few months… Damn, Bighead. You’re busy.

You can wrap your arms around him more easily than Namjoon. Yoongi may have a smaller frame, but he’s built strong. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms. The muscles flex when he revs the long handlebars on the inclined streets. You notice a tattoo on his right forearm and read it quietly under his ear “dream….reality.”

He hears you and chuckles to himself.

“What’s so funny, Yoongi?” You’re not understanding how there’s humor in anything that happened today. Your leg is still stinging as you hold him tight during turns.

He chuckles again. “You should keep your mouth closed when you ride without a face covering.”

“Why? Am I annoying you?” You hear the sassiness in your own voice and cringe.

“Nah, Dove. I just don’t want you to catch any flies.” He chuckles even harder as you’re forced to suppress another remark.

You laugh too and then stop because your mouth is open.

***

He parks the bike in the driveway where you first met.

“I never thanked you for fixing my sprinklers, by the way,” your eyes fall onto his lips and there’s an awkward silence. “And thank you for today. You always show up unexpectedly—"

“Listen, Dove,” the sweetness in his eyes hasn’t gone anywhere, but you see the blaze return in them just as much, “it’s just a random coincidence. It could have been anybody.”

But you don’t desire it to be just anybody. His words sting and it travels down to your knees.

“Hm, you’re right, Yoongi.” He squeezes your hand as you part ways on the driveway. “Thank you anyway.”

You reach the door but don’t turn back. Instead, you go inside and tidy up for your study session. 

Five minutes pass and there’s a knock at the door.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” Joon follows you into the living area, “sorry I’m late again…i-is that Yoongi’s jacket?”

“Oh yeah, I must’ve forgotten to give it back to him when he dropped me off. Maybe you give it to him later?” You shrug it off and hold it out. Namjoon takes it from you slowly.

“Why? W-what’s that look?” You blink, confused at his reaction. It’s one you’ve never seen and you’re sure you never want to see it on him again. Sadness.

“Oh, it’s just that, I sent Jungkook to pick you up.”

To be continued….

[ask-marcus-cally-and-ari]

Only Human

Chapter 12: Welcome to Hell

Two weeks had gone by since the hunt for three teenagers began- two weeks of being hidden by two Freaks and eating small rations to make money stretch out and last longer.

Eggs had become a luxury to Marcus, sausage a meal fit for a king. He wolfed down a plate of toast like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“What I wouldn’t give for some pancakes,” Ari remarked as she ate their third biscuit in a row for breakfast that week.

Cally ate her cereal, looking around. “I mean, we’ve saved enough to go to McDonald’s for lunch. Spyper, do you think it’s safe?”

Spyper briefly scanned the area, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t see any Freaks around.”

Marcus whooped. “Meat, here I come!”

The trio and the two Freaks that accompanied them stepped out of the van and headed towards McDonalds. Intelligent and Spyper stood on either side of the teenagers, acting as a buffer between them and any Freaks in hiding.

Marcus kept his hand on his gun until he was sitting at the table, and even then, he looked around, ready to pull it out if anything moved wrong.

“Once we’re at HECU, we won’t have to worry about rationing food,” Spyper said, glancing around. “They have this huge cafeteria there and the food is really good. Last time I was there I had a philly cheese steak, potato wedges, and a chicken sandwich.”

“That’s awesome,” Ari beamed. “So how’d you meet them?”

“Me and Intelligent actually saw them in action when we met them. They were trying to contain a dead Freak called Friendly Scout. He got away, and we went up to them to see what was going on,” Spyper explained. “Granted, we haven’t had the best relationship with them since. Pure wrapped us up in this scheme to kill a demon a few years ago and HECU had me and Intelligent placed under house arrest for putting people in danger.”

“Wait, the f@ck?!” Marcus squawked. “How did you do it if it was this Pure mofo’s fault?”

“We were accomplices,” Spyper said. “That, and I kinda helped him escape from HECU when they had us cornered in an apartment…”

“And we lied to an HECU officer so they would help us,” Intelligent added, wincing.

Cally nodded. “Yeah, that would sour relationships. I remember Marcus lying to a teacher to cover for me when I was stuck at home once.”

“I still think I should have told her from the start. Your parents not letting you go to school because your room wasn’t clean isn’t even fair.”

“Yikes. Your parents sound horrible,” Spyper frowned.

“Eh, they tried,” Cally replied. “I- hey, check out that guy. Is there a cosplay convention around?”

The group followed Callys gaze and saw a guy in a Jason Vorhees costume sitting at a table nearby.

“What the hell…?” Spyper whispered, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus put his hand back on his gun. “Don’t look at him.”

“Please tell me there’s not a Freak who looks like that,” Intelligent winced, averting his gaze from the costumed patron.

“How would I know?” Spyper asked.

“There isn’t,” Cally replied.

“So either that’s someone who’s way too into cosplay, or we’ve got a Team Killer wannabe on our hands,” Spyper winced.

Ari shuddered. “Team Killer?”

“A pretty infamous Freak. He kills anyone who wears red.”

Marcus looked at his clothes, took off his red sneakers, and put them in the garbage.

“Good call,” Spyper said. “I have an extra pair of brown boots in my van if you want them.”

“Thanks. I-” Marcus froze. What was he feeling? Nothing was touching him, but there was warmth he could feel. Body heat, to be specific. Body heat and the cold, sharp blade of a… oh, no. “...Ari, sit still and close your eyes.”

“What, why?” Ari whimpered.

“Because my sense of touch is now bullsh@t levels of keen, and the world won’t let us rest,” Marcus replied- then pulled out his gun and fired.

A scream filled the restaurant and a Spy decloaked behind the Trio, collapsing to the floor in a bloody heap.

Cally gagged. “WHAT THE F-”

“SH_T WE GOTTA GO!” Spyper screamed as the entire restaurant was sent into panic. He and Intelligent Heavy grabbed the Trio and ran out the front door to the van, leaving the masked figure to follow them.

Cally slammed the door once they made it, locking it. “DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE-”

Spyper jammed the keys into the ignition and slammed on the gas, sending the car lurching forward. “Ok, who the hell was that!?”

“I don’t know!” Marcus replied. “I just felt him come closer!”

“You felt him?! The hell does that mean?!” Cally shouted.

“It’s like I could feel... like my sense of touch got way keener.”

“It’s the power of the Body,” Intelligent said, watching the restaurant from the rear-view mirror. “The Body enhances all human senses.”

“I hate this power so much,” groaned Marcus- and then something shot out Spyper’s tires. “OH, THAT’S BULLSH@T!”

“GAH! What just happened!?” Spyper screamed, jerking the wheel to stay on the road.

Cally looked out the window. “Guys, we got company!”

“Who is it!? I can’t look away from the road!” Spyper shouted, fighting against the pull of the blown tire.

“I see at least five people.” Cally squinted. “And one of them is pointing a rifle at us.”

“Oh sh_t, it’s Brutal!” Intelligent hissed. “Since when is he still good with a rifle!?”

Marcus scowled. “Do you guys have a rifle?”

“Check in the compartment under my bed! My old rifle should be under there!” Spyper grunted as another car slammed into his van.

Marcus pulled out the weapon, loaded it, and headed to the top of the van, where he opened the trapdoor and came out, aiming for the drivers of the closest car. “EAT LEAD, MOTHERF@CKER!”

He fired into the car and the front windshield shattered on impact before the car began veering off the road, its driver out of commission.

Ari whimpered in the back, and Cally went to go hold him.

“Hang on to your hats!” Spyper shouted, reaching for the clutch. “We’re about to go airborne!”

"SH@T!" Before Marcus could go back in, he found himself in a struggle for the rifle with Brutal. "Get lost, you son of a b@tch!" he snapped.

“Not until you get lost first!” Brutal hissed, trying to kick Marcus off the van.

Marcus, deciding the rifle wasn’t worth it, let it go and ducked back into the van, only for the Sniper to prevent him from closing the door.

“You’re not getting away that easy!”

Ari screamed, and Cally panicked, reaching for the nearest knife.

“Get the hell OUT!” Intelligent screamed, trying to slam the trapdoor shut to keep Brutal out.

The back door to the van opened, and a Scout with a hole in his chest, no eyes, and chains coming out of the hole hissed at the Trio, grabbing Marcus with the chains and trying to pull him out. “MOTHERF-”

Quickly slamming the trapdoor in Brutals face, Intelligent ran to the vans back door and tried to rip the chains off of Marcus’ leg. “Let him go!”

“Get off me, 2 Chainz!” Marcus squawked.

2 Chainz hissed and yanked Marcus out of the van and on to the open road where their fight continued.

“MARCUS!” Ari screamed, running to the door.

Marcus got up, holding his side, then looked at his knife. “You wanna go, weirdo?!” he asked challengingly.

2 Chainz snarled and the chains from his chest angled towards Marcus, tipped with razor sharp blades.

Marcus didn’t back down. “COME ON!” he shouted. “You want some so bad?! Come get some!”

2 Chainz lunged at Marcus, slashing at him with his claws and bladed chains.

Marcus caught one chain and tried to wrap it around 2 Chainz’s neck, ready to strangle him.

As they brawled in the road, traffic was eventually jammed and several people got out of their cars to begin recording the whole fight.

It didn’t take long for people to begin watching, including HECU.

“COMMANDER! WE GOT A LOCATION! ONE OF THE THREE KIDS IS FIGHTING A NEW FREAK!” cried an intern.

Rudra came barreling down the hallway to see the feed. “What the - Who’s recording this footage!?”

“Multiple people! I’ve got a squad on the way!”

On the screen, Marcus turned to whoever was holding the camera. “AYO! YOU ENJOYING THE SHOW?! HOW ABOUT YOU BE IN IT AND HELP ME?!” he snapped.

“What!? I can’t fight!” The bystander cried.

“YOU GOT A CAR, DON’T YOU?! GET IN IT AND RUN THIS F@CKER OVER!”

The bystander dropped their phone and ran back to their car to do exactly that. Cranking their car, they drove through the traffic and barreled straight for 2 Chainz as Marcus leapt out of the way.

As 2 Chainz found himself occupied, Marcus dropped the knife and took a breath as Spyper doubled back to pick him up.

“Marcus! Marcus, come on!” Ari shouted in fright. He was leaning out the back of the van, holding out their hands to catch Marcus.

The teenager ran to meet her, reaching for his ticket out when Brutal leapt from the top of the van and tackled him to the pavement.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

“HEY!” Marcus snapped. He rolled onto his back and kicked Brutal off before quickly leaping back to his feet. “That’s my ride!”

“Not while I’m here!” Brutal grinned, brandishing his shiv.

“You’re sooooo tough with that knife, aren’t ya? I dropped mine, now drop yours! Fight me like a man!”

“And risk you getting away? Not a chance, bloke,” Brutal hissed, charging at Marcus.

Ari gasped. “We gotta get over there!” she cried. “Marcus isn’t gonna win this fight!”

“Hang on! Road safety laws, prepare to be IGNORED!” Spyper shouted, jerking the wheel back. His van veered sharply to the left and began careening straight for Brutal, only for a Medic in a mask to appear and call up giant spikes to block the van’s path. Spyper screamed in surprise and slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding crashing into them.

“Marcus! We can’t get through!” Spyper called.

Marcus scowled. “Well, I guess I’m throwing hands,” he grumbled, cracking his knuckles.

“Soon enough, you won’t have any hands to throw!” Brutal bit back, pulling yet another blade from his vest.

“Another knife. Coward,” Marcus sneered, then charged.

Marcus quickly grabbed Brutal by his wrists and forced the Sniper back, keeping Brutal from swinging the knives. Brutal hissed and kicked Marcus in the leg and shoved him back towards the spikes. Marcus staggered, but managed to dig his heels into the road to keep his balance.

Marcus, having taken a knife, grinned. “Now it’s fair.”

“Not for long,” Brutal grinned, producing yet another blade from his vest. “I can do this all day!”

“THE F@CK?!”

Brutal chuckled and swung his blades, slowly closing the gap between him and Marcus. “You should have paid more attention to my entry in HECU’s database.”

Meanwhile, the person who’d gotten said database was running scenarios in her mind as Spyper drove, trying to avoid the new Medic Freak. “Alright, so what are these spikes made of?”

“You asking me? Cause I sure as hell don’t know!” Spyper grunted, trying to find a way through the spikes to reach Marcus.

“If I knew that or could figure out a pattern, I could figure out how to take out the spikes and this new guy. Speaking of, do you know him? Because HECU’s files don’t.”

“No, I’ve never seen this Freak before!”

“They sent new ones under the assumption that I’d know all the old ones,” Cally hissed as Ari wrapped a blanket around himself, terrified. Then an idea hit her. “Alright, let’s see. Start driving like crazy. Don’t think, just go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Spyper grabbed the clutch and jerked it forward, causing his van to go airborne. “Hold on to your a$$es! This is gonna be a bumpy ride!”

The Medic threw spikes as the van flew, and Cally turned to Intelligent. “Your pot. I need you to drop it on his head.”

Intelligent glanced out the window and nodded, taking the pot off his head. “Got it.”

Cally called up to Spyper, “Give Intelligent a clear shot!”

“Already on it!” Spyper spun the wheel and started heading straight for the Medic before sharply pulling up. Without a moment's hesitation, Intelligent leaned out the passenger side window and dropped his pot, shouting triumphantly when it landed squarely on his target's head.

As the Medic clawed at his face, the nightmarish images filling his head, Cally grinned. “Alright. That takes care of him. Now we can get to- MARCUS!”

Marcus, though still fighting valiantly, was squarely on the other end of a beatdown, if the rips in his clothes and visible injuries were any indication. Didn’t seem like he wanted to show it, though; he picked up a broken spike and shouted, “That all you got?!”

“I could do this for eternity!” Brutal cackled, not relenting in his assault on Marcus.

“SH@T!” Cally cried. “Do you have a rope or ladder here, Spyper?”

“Under my bed, there should be a foldable ladder there!”

Cally pulled it out. “Ari, help me throw this to Marcus!”

Ari got up and ran over, grabbing one end while Cally grabbed the other. Then they tossed it to where the fight was happening. “MARCUS! COME ON!”

Marcus immediately dropped the spike and ran to grab the ladder. Leaping for it, he narrowly managed to grab on while avoiding scraping his legs on the spikes below.

Grinning down at Brutal, he held up a middle finger before climbing up and into the front seat.

Marcus smiled in relief once he was in. “Thanks!”

“You ok?” Intelligent asked, already getting out the first aid kit.

Marcus paused, then decided, “Everything hurts.”

“Alright, just hang on.” Intelligent opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small first aid kid. “Uh...I’ve got some bandages and some alcohol wipes. Any chance these will help?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Alright, where’s it hurt at?” Intelligent asked, sitting Marcus up beside him.

“I think it’d be easier to know what doesn’t h- Ari?” Marcus looked over his shoulder to the living quarters of the van. Ari was leaning against the wall and holding her side, his hand red with blood. A knife was laying on the floor nearby covered in blood.

Marcus gasped, all his injuries forgotten. “ARI!” He leapt over the front seats and grabbed Ari as they went down. “Ari, what happened!?”

“Brutal threw a knife,” Ari gulped, gripping Marcus’ arms.

Cally grabbed a first aid kit and went to work, panic written across her face. Ari sucked in breath as Cally set about cleaning the wound with alcohol and wiping away excess blood.

“That stings,” Ari winced, gritting their teeth when Cally stuffed gauze into the wound.

Marcus scowled. “Okay, now I’m p@ssed.”

“Same,” Cally said, a dark coldness in her voice. “It’s personal now.”

“Is Ari ok back there?” Spyper quizzed, flying away from the scene on the road.

“He will be. One of Brutal’s knives that he threw while on the car hit her.”

“It’s not deep, is it?” Intelligent asked worriedly.

“Kinda. They’ll need stitches, but it's not fatal,” Cally said, wrapping up the wound with a clean bandage.

“Do we know anyone who can do stitches?” Marcus asked, wrapping a bandage around his hand.

“Uh...I kinda know how, but I don’t think you want me doing that,” Spyper said, gesturing to the fact that he was still driving.

“Yeeeeah…”

Cally sighed. “I can do some. I need the practice.” Cally poked around in the first aid kit and found a needle and surgical thread inside. “Now hold still, this is probably gonna hurt…” She warned, beginning to sew the wound shut as gently and as steadily as she could.

***

That night, the group had taken up residence in an abandoned shack with just a power outlet. The kids sat watching Marcus’s miniature TV, and Intelligent sat beside Spyper, writing notes.

“Cally seems to be really good on her feet,” he mused. “She came up with that plan to take out someone we didn’t even know about in, what, half a minute?”

“You think part of that's coming from her powers?” Spyper asked, glancing over at Cally.

“Maybe. It makes me want to run tests, but I’m pretty sure Marcus would turn me into a pencil with all the lead he’d put in me if I tried.”

“I think we should leave that to HECU,” Spyper remarked, taking a sip of his drink. “Not that Marcus would let them do that either, but still.”

“He’s incredibly protective. And he looks more p@ssed now than he did when he was the one being threatened or getting the sh@t beaten out of him.”

“That’s true for anyone who’s close to their friends. I mean, if I got threatened, you’d be pretty p_ssed too.”

“Yeah,” Intelligent nodded. Spyper lit a cigarette, then noticed his phone ringing.

“Hey Intelligent, can you get that? I’m expecting a call from Madic.”

Intelligent reached over and picked up the phone, holding it awkwardly in his large hands.

It was an unknown number. Weird. Intelligent swiped to answer and held the phone to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Hello, Intelligent,” an all too familiar voice greeted in a cold tone. “Enjoying the peace and quiet?”

��Gentle. What do you want?” Intelligent hissed, pulling out a laptop and hooking it up to the phone.

“Just wanted to catch up. Give you a little grief for screwing Brutal over earlier today.”

“I didn’t do that. Marcus did. I’m proud of the kid for lasting as long as he did.”

Marcus, noticing the call, had gotten up to come over and listen. When he heard his name, he cut in. “Someone call my name?”

“It’s Gentlespy,” Intelligent replied, focusing on his computer screen. “Keep him talking, I’m trying to track his phone.”

Marcus hissed. “You motherf@cker. If you were here I’d-”

“I saw your fight with Brutal. I know exactly what you would do if I was there.”

“Then thank whatever god you pray to that you’re not. The hell are you even after?”

“Haven’t we already made this clear to you? We want you three gone.”

“You wouldn’t even have to deal with us if your stupid @sses hadn’t come after us. We knew jack sh@t about this whole thing.”

“Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20.”

“Yeah. And regret is a nasty feeling.”

“Is everything okay over there?” called Ari nervously.

“Considering who’s on the other line? Probably not,” Intelligent replied.

Ari came over, still holding their aching side. “Who is it?”

“Gentlespy.”

Ari tensed. “What does he want?” he whined. “Is the other guy with him?”

“I’m not sure. Just try to relax. You don’t want to pull any of those stitches out.”

Marcus hissed. “If your pal is with you, put him on. I got something I wanna say to him.”

“I don’t see why not. Once you and your friends are out of the way, you won’t be saying much anymore.”

Marcus grunted and cracked his knuckles. “Just put him on, I don’t want to listen to your pretentious-@ss voice anymore.”

A scoff came from the phone as it was handed off to the Sniper Freak. “What do you gotta say?” Brutal hissed.

Marcus spat on the ground. “Well, pal, listen. I’m not a hard guy to p@ss off. Really, you could throw a rock at me and I'd get mad. And I was content to just run my @ss off to avoid you f@ckers. That said, I am a hard guy to make an enemy out of. It takes you trying to kill me or the ones I love. And you did that. Like, way beyond that. When you put your disgusting hands on Ari. So now that we're enemies, I am gonna rain unholy hell down on you, your friends, and your entire plan,” he growled, eyes flashing with the blood-red power of the Body.

Intelligent looked up and silently gestured to his computer as a location popped up. “I’ve got Gentle’s location. They’re about five blocks away from here in an old warehouse,” He said quietly.

Marcus cocked his gun and hung up. “Then let’s go.”

“What are you doing? We still need to head to HECU and Ari needs to recover. We can’t go after them,” Spyper warned. “Especially not when they could have backup.”

Marcus huffed. “We can’t stay here! They’re five blocks away!” he snapped. “If they figure that out, Ari won’t have time to recover!”

“Then let's get out of here!” Spyper said, grabbing his keys and starting for the door.

[talkingismylifewrites]

So I saw in one of your replies you came up with a mob boss au. Would you ever write it and put it on A03 cos I would LOVE to read it. Also please say John's the mobster who's like "if you mess with Roger you'll die" so a rival gang kidnap Roger to blackmail John. But then Roger turns out to be trained in combat and beats the shit out them all and escapes and when John hears he's just like "I fucking warned you not to mess with him!"

okay this is a) a long time coming and b) was born from me watching all of narcos in like...a week

in fact, it legit started with me texting lo “maybe i’ve been watching too much narcos but.....” 

okay so our story begins with the knowledge that roger’s dad ran the mob

like roger is his heir and his son and his dad is the Big Kingpin

john’s dad is a shitty little lackey who has waaaaaaay too many debts so he grew up in the mob?? but lower ranks

and john sorta started getting involved when he was like 10 or so bc no one looks twice at the nicely groomed white kid right? and his dad was Desperate

and like he and roger had this whole Star Crossed Lovers shit bc a) roger was Not Allowed to be Gay and b) they weren’t ever supposed to have even met like completely different pay grades

BUT roger overheard him arguing with his dad over a better way to do a job that would be less dangerous and way harder to track but he got brushed off with a “the boss is always right you don’t argue john it’ll get you killed”

but rog was like.... shit no that’s WAY better

and ended up dropping a few lines to find out who this kid is cause... he’s smart and smart goes far right

like u gotta look Out for the smart ones, he knows that, his dad taught him that

(with backhands and cruel fists while teaching him chess, that one night in the barrel when he fucked up a simple plan when he was 13...)

(like rog is smart he’s just not Great at compartmentalization. so his plans start out great but go off the railed as he gets excited/pissed off) but like johns smart he picks up when he’s suddenly being tailed and is like Ok What Did I Do to one of them

and the guy panics and takes him straight to roger who is like..... how did u fuck up a simple tail, Jesus Christ

but yeah like he and john end up having a sort of clandestine friendship of sorts? in which roger essentially brings half baked plans to him and john Fixes them

which sorta turns into mutual pining

john is like this is my angry mob boss son best friend and roger’s like this is my evil genius best friend who kills people

but yeah basically roger’s dad keeps beating him when things go wrong, even if its not his fault

John is observant okay he was noticing the direct correlation between roger “getting jumped” and plans going wrong

So when it’s one of his??? That goes tits up (and tbh it wasn’t even like a bad screw up they just had a witness who was taken care of the next day) and roger like slinks into Johns apartment/office with the break down for John and his eyes is swollen completely close and he’s got a fat lip the size of a strawberry John immediately is ready for murder

And roger never admits it’s his dad???? who’s beating him???

because Taylors Should Be Better

Because why would he? It’s embarrassing but also it’s happened his whole life it’s expected of a mob bosses son (think the Baba Yaga scene in John wick 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻)

which then turns into john pounding him into the mattress and promising no one will Ever land a hand on him again when he turns up one time with a battered to hell face because something went Wrong on one of the plans (which. extra emotional effect bc it was one of johns)

and like a month later roger’s dad is mysteriously found shot dead

cuz John mentally is like okay. Plan Ides of March is a go. Moving it up three years he’s getting taken out tomorrow

And John KILLS ROGER’S DAD IN COLD FUCKING BLOOD

the only??? person??? roger would EVER take that from is his dad

like johns heard the stories about roger taking out men twice his size yeah? but roger never has any defensive wounds on his hand

John knows that roger can and will defend himself

He’s seen him in action

But he never raises a hand against his dad when he straight up could kill him with one hand tied behind his back

so john figures it out and a month later roger’s dad is dead 

and now they need a leader?? another boss

and they look to roger, but roger is like no

he knows himself well enough, he is not strong enough in terms of planning and plotting, he’s a good action man but not strategist

that’s john

so roger steps aside and is like john is going to run the show

obvi there’s a power void and there’s basically civil war but with roger’s ruthlessness and john’s genius they fucking take all the little fractions down and they take them down HARD

john sits on his throne with roger standing over his shoulder, knuckles bloodied and grin wicked

and everyone knows if you fuck with roger??? you fuck with john

and vice versa

once, roger got shot on a mission and it was like, the one time?? john loans him out for a plan that wasn’t his

and he’s fine it’s just a graze but John and him in their bathroom and Johns like hyper focused on cleaning the wound and he furious and harsh and is like you fucking dumbass did no one teach you to duck?? You fool you dumb piece of shit

and roger just gently cradles john’s face in his hands and lifts his head to look at him and kisses him so gently and he’s like it’s okay, i’m fine, i’m here

and john’s like you are never going on any raid or plan or anything that i have not PERSONALLY vetted 

the next day, the guy who’s plan it was is sniveling and apologizing on his knees in front of John and Roger; it was an accident, he says

and johns like “it’s okay. i understand, these things happen.”

and then just blank eyed shoots him in the femur

“these things just happen, you understand?”

roger just smiles from behind him, doesn’t even flinch in the aftermath

john and roger rule with an iron fist until one day things go tits up

and roger ends up taking the fall for john, and he gets sent to jail

john, in retaliation, goes on the warpath

Because he’s totally turned around the family business they’ve gone more corporate and it’s more like s legit business now?? They still kill people and rob and shit but they’re not monsters or criminals

And they give money back into the neighborhood and shit and donate to charity and kiss babies blah blah blah

But the authorities are like we need to show our strength against these villains so Rogers looking at like 25years to life

And John just kinda is like okay cool I can fix this

And it’s the biggest campaign ever he’s got the best lawyers on retainer he’s blackmailing people left and right he’s buying witnesses and finding loopholes like he’s fucking working the system and he’s gonna get roger out even if it kills him because in his eyes it was His Fault

Roger is like your honor clearly there’s been some sort of mistake

Because the only thing that places him there is a grainy cell phone video and a witness that’s not exactly clean

So like the case isn’t solid

But it’s enough for a trial like most of it is circumstantial

And John is like I would kill the whole world for you and Rogers like sounds excessive but same

the difference between roger and john is that john would kill the whole world for roger after sitting down and planning the whole thing for several weeks. roger would kill the whole world for john and not remember doing it after (though still probably not regret it)

Roger would act first think later

And John would be like oh I planned it all out two years ago in the shower

Just in case

so roger gets sent to jail and john just...looses it

like he has to get yanked off of miami when the verdict is read of two years sentencing because its not technically miami’s fault??? its just shitty

and meanwhile, roger is getting dragged off to jail and he’s like don’t worry, babe, it’s gonna be fine

(it both is and isn’t)

roger shows up in jail and within a week he’s running the joint, he’s got lackeys and he’s paid off the guards and its basically a vacation

meanwhile john is just burning his competition to the ground, he’s making people rue the day they ever crossed him

(they TOTALLY get conjugal visits that last longer than uhhhh usual)

bc you betcha ass they’d be So fucking possessive of one another. like roger rules that prison with an iron fist 

anyways, miami appeals on the basis of circumstantial, and he basically proves that legit ANYONE else could have done it and this is clearly railroading and obviously roger is innocent

and after 8 months, he walks

when he gets out???? john is there to pick him up

they drive off to a safe house outside of the city and they had wicked crazy dangerous hot sex and its just insanity

and when they come back??? 

its like people know to just flee when they see them

john, mob boss and kingpin, and roger his dangerous and beautiful second in command 

also freddie is roger’s bff, miami is their lawyer, and crystal is roger’s bodyguard who always gets into more trouble than roger but he once took a bullet for roger so he’s chill

ps anyone tries to kidnap roger??? gets dealt with a) by roger and if roger manages to let them get away then b) john. you’d rather be dealt with by roger, and not john

[rycbrar97]

Consequences

Tom Holland x Female!OC          

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Virginity, Drunkeness, Slight Angst, Lots of Awkwardness

Word Count: 4269

Summary: One too many drinks leads to a night both Tom and Alessia will definitely forget and a morning they will always remember.

A/N: Been mulling over this idea for over a week now, thinking about making this into a series if anybody is interested. Let me know if you enjoy it and want more 😉

Taglist Requests

Part Two

 Her head pounded, awareness fluttering in and out like washed out static on a broken radio. She groaned at the way her body ached, as if she just got run over by bus. Last thing Alessia remembered was enjoying the rowdy atmosphere of an Irish pub with Sophie. Her younger sister couldn’t have been more excited at the fact that she had just reached the ripe age of eighteen and could experiment the pleasures of drinking alcohol legally. She was an absolutely terrible influence, roping her into all sorts of drinking challenges and games last night. Hence, why she was suffering the wonders of a full blown hangover right at this second.

“Oh god,” she moaned, her left hand rubbing at her temples.

She dared to open her eyes and flinched when the natural light attacked her vision, making her promptly slam her eyelids back down. She took in a deep breath, attempting to abate the nausea that was washing over her in waves. God, she hated this feeling. She hardly made it a habit to over-drink—the most she usually ever had was three or four standards in a sitting. There was no logical reason she could come up with to drink to the point where you could no longer function. She never saw the appeal in that. Silently cursing her sister she reopened her eyes, her vision clearing up a lot more this time. The white ceiling greeted her and she turned on her side to see if she could find her phone to see the time. A frown edged its way to her forehead when something warm moved against her stomach. Looking down to investigate, her heart immediately stopped at what she saw.

An arm. A very strong, manly arm. Wrapped around her stomach. 

Her very naked stomach.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit...” Alessia squeaked, her voice pitching higher and higher at each curse.

Her body scrambled frantically up the bed, blankets and pillows flying around her as her headache flared to a whole new intensity. Her head darted left and right, not recognising any of her surroundings in the slightest. This was not the crappy one bedroom hotel room her sister booked on Hotel Trivago. This...was a complete stranger’s apartment. She was in a bed...naked...with a man...with no damn clue who he was or how she got in his arms.

Alessia was pretty certain she was going to vomit there and then.

“What the...” the stranger moaned, waking up at her sudden noises and movement. The bed sheets rustled as he stretched, his movements sluggish from sleep and the effects of consuming multiple pints last night still lingering on.

Alessia had yet to see his face, obscured by his messy curls and the pillow he was plunged into. She looked on wide-eyed, sheets pulled up to her neck as the man slowly became aware to his surroundings.

His hand reached up to his head and he grunted at the sharp pain that was banging against his skull. His body ached all over and he could feel the acid in his stomach working it’s way up to his throat. It must’ve been one hell of a bender last night. This had to be one of the worst hangovers he’d ever experienced, and he had his fair share of them. He was English after all—there was no escaping it. He wondered how Harrison was fairing...

He turned his body to the side with a groan, eyes blinking at the brightness of his room. A blurry figure stood in front of him and he frowned curiously, wiping away the sleep in his eyes to clear up his vision. Once they focused, he suddenly found himself staring at a pair of unfamiliar wide hazel eyes and messy blonde hair. She was sat up rigidly on his headrest, cocooned in a cotton white sheet and his first immediate thought was...oh shit.

“Uh...” he let out awkwardly, tugging his sheet up to his chest self-consciously. Well this was certainly a turn of events.

“You- you’re-“ she stuttered, body edging its way off the bed.

“Um...” he replied unhelpfully, not sure how to deal with this situation.

Alessia was reeling in shock at who she was staring at. It couldn’t be...she had to be dreaming.

“Wha- how did- you are...I don’t- I don’t understand,” she whispered, still frozen at the sight of person in front of her. 

She was in bed with a movie star...she was in bed with a movie star...

It just didn’t compute.

“Um...I think we- I think we might of...you know,” Tom explained, his eyes flicking to the bed. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He never did this. He wasn’t one of those guys—a one-night stand kinda guy—that just wasn’t him! God he couldn’t even remember last night...

“Oh,” she choked out, shaking her head jerkily. Of course she already had figured that out—the signs were quite obviously there—but the fact that it was confirmed just made her heart thump louder against her chest and stomach curl in nausea. She had never- she was a-

She fell off the bed.

“Oh shit! Are you okay?” Tom called out, crawling over to the other side of the bed.

Alessia groaned as the room continued to spin whilst tangled in the sheets on the hard wooden floor. God did she hate yesterday Alessia. She wanted to go back in time and punch her in the goddamn face for making her feel this hungover and putting her in this messed up situation.

“Y-yeah. Just give me sec,” she breathed, closing her eyes against the dizziness and nausea. She heard the bed creak, followed quickly by footsteps and the frantic rustle of clothing. She could hear his footsteps come closer toward her but she kept her eyes firmly shut, too afraid that the bright dizzy room would get the best of her.

“Here. Let me help you up,” Tom whispered softly, his warm hand settling on her shoulder and working its way underneath her back.

Alessia finally willed her eyes to open, inhaling sharply when the nausea spiked as he lifted her. Her throat burned as she forced the contents of her stomach to stay down. She refused to throw up on the actor and embarrass herself further than she already had.

“Thanks,” she sighed as he helped her back to the bed. Her hands held a tight grip to the sheet, knuckles going white to cover what was left of her dignity. Tom went back on the opposite side of the bed and sat down, hands rubbing at the ache behind his eyes and gripping at his hair to release the tension in his head.

The silence was unbearable, both parties struggling to comprehend the situation they were dealt with this morning and still suffering the ill effects of their wild night last night. The actor opened and closed his mouth multiple times, tormented on what to say. Should he ask her name? Where’s she from? Talk about the weather? Or just...see her out? Would that be...rude? To hint for her to leave? He shook his head, ashamed that the thought crossed his mind. What was he thinking? She was so obviously ill and could barely walk on her two feet...

“Um...just so you know, I- uh- I have never- well I sorta haven’t, you know- um...what I mean to say is that- that this is the first time that I...” Alessia stumbled over nervously to break the enduring silence. She probably just made it ten times worse.

Tom nodded understandingly and cleared his throat, “Don’t worry. I’m the same. I’ve- uh- never done this before either,” he reassured, comforted that she was in the same boat as him and didn’t do this regularly either.

Alessia’s eyes blinked in surprise.

“Oh, uh, I guess that’s comforting,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her arm, “I never woulda thought that you were, you know...one. Not that- um- never mind,” Tom blinked in confusion, not sure what she was getting at but he let her continue on, “I’m sorry that- I’m sorry that it was me,” her eyes began to water without her permission, “I’m sure you would’ve wanted somebody special, not some stranger who got stupid drunk and can’t even remember it happening-“ she took a sharp breath in and the tears embarrassingly started to fall freely, “it certainly isn’t how I pictured how it would happen- I mean I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t complain, any girl would kill to have their fir- fir- first with a celebrity-”

Tom froze in realisation, mouth open and eyes open in shock at the poor crying girl.

A virgin. She was a virgin. 

“Oh shit.”

His heart pounded hard against his chest and stomach weighed a thousand tons. What had he done...

“I’m sorry, it’s stupid! So stupid. I’m not like this- I’m not this girl who- who- I never imagined I’d...god this is just so overwhelming,” she continued hysterically, her hands covering up her face as she took deep breaths in. Tom’s heart shattered at how utterly small she looked.

“No no no no. Please don’t cry. It’s okay- it’s okay- well it’s not okay- its kinda shitty. This is- this is- it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have- fuck- I am the worst, the absolute worst...I can’t believe I...” he freaked out, jumping off the bed and pacing back and forth. The room became dizzier and dizzier with each step he made. This morning just had to keep getting more and more messed up, didn’t it? His stomach lurched at his frantic movements and because the world was bloody well out to get him, the actor immediately found himself having to rush towards his en-suite in order to release last night’s dinner. He only just made it to the bowl in time before he was retching out every single content in his stomach. This had to be his worst start to the day ever.

Alessia cringed as she heard him throw up, feeling guilty that she was helpless to help him. At this point she would only end up spewing alongside him. She didn’t think that Tom would appreciate that sentiment at all. She used the time to search for her clothes, hoping they would magically appear in her sight, and managed to spot her underwear and top but couldn’t for the life of her see any clue of her jeans or bra. She quickly popped on what she had and sat back down on the bed, closing her eyes to rid herself of the dizzy spells.

The toilet flushed behind her and the sink tap turned on with a splash of water. Tom walked in seconds later still only in his boxer shorts—looking pale and clammy—his hair slicked down all wet and face dripping with beads of water.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, embarrassed that he made such a spectacle. Although, he did feel relieved that the nausea had finally abated.

“No it’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she assured meekly, folding legs into her arm.

“Um...did you want- would you like a drink of water?” he offered, scratching the back of his head. Alessia nodded hesitantly in response. 

He walked out of the room and then came back later with a glass of water and two small white pills, placing them both on the side table where she was situated.

“Here you go. I got you some Tylenol as well.” He sat back at the end of the bed, eyeing her warily like she was a fragile piece of glass.

“Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing the glass and pills and swallowing them together. 

“So, um, I just wanted to say that...that I’m really sorry. When I said that this—” he waved his hands in front of him, “—was my first time, I meant that it was my first one-night stand. Not- not my first time. I didn’t- I didn’t know that you had never- god I can’t believe that I took that away from you...you must think I’m an absolute twat,” he groaned, head in his hands, completely mortified.

“Oh,” Alessia responded, taken back, “it’s- it’s okay. I’m as much to blame here. I had way too much last night, I can’t even remember anything. I don’t even know how we met,” she confessed, head down in embarrassment.

“Me neither,” he admitted, fiddling with his hands, “so- uh- how about this...let’s got back to the start. I’m Tom, and your name is...?” he introduced with an awkward smile.

“Alessia,” she finished, finally meeting him eye to eye.

“Alessia,” he repeated, smiling more naturally, “nice to meet you, officially,” he offered out his hand.

She found herself laughing at the bizarreness of it all, shaking the hand of the person she just lost her virginity to, even if she did not remember said experience. Tom relaxed as she laughed, glad that she was no longer freaking out.

“Man, this is just all so backwards, isn’t it?” she shook her head in disbelief, still holding onto his hand.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he chuckled and withdrew his hand.

“So...do you happen to know where my phone is...?” she asked, looking around the room for any sign of it and then glancing down at her lap suddenly in realisation, “...or, you know, my pants...possibly?” she squeaked sheepishly.

“Uh...” Tom trailed off awkwardly, “I’ll see if I can find them,” he finally said, getting up and rummaging around the room. Alessia got up to try and help but ended up wobbling on her feet as she felt the world tilt. She quickly sat back down, deciding it was a bad idea to move.

“Um...here,” Tom said, handing over a pair of black folded sweats, “I couldn’t find yours anywhere so you can just borrow a pair of mine.”

Alessia’s cheeks reddened slightly at the gesture.

“Thanks.” She took the pants out of his hands and sighed in relief when Tom politely turned around to let her change, despite already seeing her in pretty much nothing. At least chivalry wasn’t dead.

“You can turn around now,” she informed as she finished slipping on the comfy pants, “no luck with the phone?” she asked hopefully.

Tom shook his head as a negative, “No, sorry. Can’t even find mine,” he sighed.

Alessia slunk in disappointment—nothing was going right today.

“I’m sure it’ll be around somewhere,” she muttered, getting back up again determined to find it...and that quickly turned out to be the worst idea she ever had. Too fast. She got up way too fast.

Her face fell into horror and suddenly she was dashing where she saw Tom run to previously, a burning hot sensation making its way up her throat. She collapsed on the tiles in his bathroom, her arms wrapping around the toilet as she emptied the remains of her stomach. She gagged at the burning in the back of her mouth and breathed heavily into the bowl. A hand suddenly made its way across her hair, pulling it behind her neck and she felt a weight press down comfortably on her shoulder.

“Sor- sorry. I am so sorry!” she gasped as another wave of nausea hit, forcing her to expel her stomach once again into the toilet.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tom soothed, rubbing her back gently. They sat there for a couple more minutes, Alessia breathing shakily into the toilet as she spewed up every last bit of liquid that remained in her. But eventually the vomiting had subsided and she was able reach up and flush the remnants of the shepherds pie she had last night.

“You ready to get up?” Tom whispered. She nodded silently and turned around to let him assist her off the floor.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, referring to him staying with her as she was sick.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, guiding her back into his bedroom. He sat her back down on the bed, making sure she was alright and wasn’t about to pass out on him any second. He grabbed the half-full glass of water on the bedside table and handed it over to her.

“Thank you,” she responded as she took the glass, drinking its contents greedily. She cringed at the burning sensation that still lingered in her throat.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked concerned.

“I’m fine. Much better actually. Just not particularly fond of the aftertaste in my mouth right now,” she explained.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he sympathised.

A phone suddenly rang in the distance and both of their heads snapped to the sound in interest. Tom got up promptly and moved in it’s direction, leaving the room and heading out to the lounging area. He spotted the phone lying on the couch and instantly recognised that it was not his black iPhone but rather a Samsung Galaxy. Quickly making the deduction, he grabbed the phone and raced back to Alessia’s side.

“I found your phone!” he yelled triumphantly, “here, there’s someone trying to call you,” he informed, handing her over the device. Alessia sighed in relief, glad to see her most dependable possession and pressed the screen to answer the call.

“Hey Soph,” she greeted.

“Lessie! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been trying to call you all morning. I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You never arrived at the hotel and I was worried that someone had kidnapped you or that you were lying dead on a street corner somewhere or- or-”

Alessia winced at the panic of her sister’s voice.

“Soph, Soph- I’m okay. Calm down. I’m safe,” she reassured, interrupting before she had a mental breakdown.

“Where did you go? I completely lost you after the pub last night.”

Alessia glanced to Tom, unsure how to proceed with her sister.

“Um...it’s kinda hard to explain, I’ll tell you once I meet up with you at the hotel,” she ended up telling, not wanting to have that particular conversation over the phone.

“Are you okay? Nothing- nothing happened to you last night? We were pretty wasted- sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, “I’m alright. I’ll tell you everything when I see you. I’m heading back soon, I’ll text you once I’ve arrived,” she promised, although she wasn’t quite sure on the means yet. She shook her head—she’ll figure it out once she gets to that stage.

“Okay. See you soon then. Stay safe Lessie.”

“I will.” She hung up the phone and let her shoulders relax.

“I guess we’ll be saying goodbye soon,” Tom mentioned once she was off the phone.

“Yeah...” her voice dwindled, “I guess we will be,” she repeated, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

“Do you...need any help getting back home?” he offered, wanting to make sure to left off safely.

“Um, yeah. Actually could you tell where I am exactly?” she asked politely—the question had been bugging her since the moment she’d woken up.

“Oh yeah- yeah, of course!” he nodded emphatically, “Kingston, southwest London, my dear.”

“Okay...” she drawled, ignoring the way her skin tingled when he said ‘my dear’ to her, “and how far would that be from Kensington?” Alessia asked hesitantly, at least she was still in the same city. Although, the way Tom’s eyes widened did not give her much encouragement.

“Uh...about forty to fifty minutes...give or take...” he answered sympathetically. She groaned in despair.

“Shit. It’s gonna cost me an arm and leg to get a taxi then,” she complained morosely, hand reaching up to rub away the headache behind her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I can pay for it,” Tom intervened without a beat, waving his hand in front if him.

“What! Don’t be ridiculous,” Alessia refused incredulously, shaking her head at his generosity.

“It’s the least I could do,” he urged, not standing down in the slightest on this. He was not gonna let her pay such a large amount of money when it was no issue at all for him. She didn’t deserve to pay such a big price for last night.

“No, no, no. I can’t let you do that. You’ve already been so kind. I can get my way back on my own,” she insisted, her stubbornness shining through. Tom was not letting up anytime soon though.

“Do you even know where your wallet is?” he deadpanned, eyebrows raised knowingly. Alessia froze like a statue.

“Shit!” she cursed wide-eyed, scrambling off the bed in a frantic search for it. She scurried along the floor desperately, exploring every space and crevice but came up with no luck.

“I didn’t see it when I looked around either,” he mentioned unhelpfully.

“Shit,” she cursed yet again. 

“I’m guessing that means you’ll have to let me pay,” the actor shrugged. Alessia sighed in annoyance, Murphy’s law was being an utter bitch today.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes. I will. I insist.”

“Nope. I won’t let you. I refuse.”

Alessia slumped in defeat, too hungover to deal with this kind of stubbornness.

“Fine,” she grouched, “but I will find a way to pay you back, mark my word,” she threatened, pointing her finger directly at him. She picked up her phone and looked up the number of the nearest taxi service. 

Tom sat back smugly as he watched her book the taxi. From what he’d already observed, Alessia was more than a decent human being. It was rare to find someone with such an honest character—a stubbornness in refusing charity, manners to the point of apologising unnecessarily and an innocence that was impossible to find at his age. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t even brought up anything about his movie star status or Spider-Man, which was refreshing in itself. Maybe...maybe he should find a way to keep in touch with her...get to know her better. Would that be too...much? Would she want that? He shook his self-critically. She probably just wanted to get as far away as possible from him after what happened last night...

“Cab should arrive in about five minutes, so I guess I should see if I can find anymore of my stuff.”

Tom nodded in recognition and suggested that he help her as well. She didn’t have enough energy to out stubborn his generosity so she just let him help. They did manage to find her bra, much to Alessia’s embarrassment, but for some apparent reason her jeans still remained aloof alongside her wallet.

“I’ll find a way to return these,” she said, gesturing to the sweats she was wearing.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “just keep them, I insist,” he stated firmly.

“Okay,” she replied softly, knowing he wasn’t going to budge.

The taxi arrived right on schedule and Tom made sure to show her the way out to the front, making sure that he paid for the taxi.

“So...I guess this is it,” he farewelled, hands tucked into his jumper pockets.

“I guess it is...” she breathed, “thank you, Tom, for being so kind. I’m sure most people would’ve just kicked me straight out without a care,” she spoke sincerely, eyes earnest as anything he’d ever seen.

“Well, they would’ve been idiots.”

She laughed with heartfelt tears in her eyes, shaking her head at him.

“I think you’re the idiot deciding to put up with me,” she joked self-depreciatingly. He stared at her in wonder. How could she think so little of herself?

“Alessia I...” he started off, not knowing completely what he intended to say, “I’m sorry that last night happened the way it did. I wish we’d met under different circumstances, it isn’t fair what happened but I guess there’s no changing that now...” he spoke forlornly. 

She reached out and squeezed his arm, smiling encouragingly.

“It’s okay,” she reassured, “I’m alright, I know there’s no point in me dwelling on it anymore. The most important thing is that-“ the taxi driver honked his horn impatiently, “-oh, um...I guess I better go,” she sighed, turning towards the cab.

“Alessia, wait!” Tom called out before she went into the car. She turned in confusion, wondering why he was stopping her. He reached out and pulled her immediately into arms and she gasped in surprise at the sudden gesture but relaxed quite quickly into the embrace.

“Have a safe trip,” he murmured into her ear. She nodded into his shoulder.

“I will,” she whispered back, not wanting to pull away from the embrace, “...goodbye, Tom.”

“Goodbye.”

They released each other from their arms and pulled away. Tom stood with indecision on whether to do anything more, but chickened out as the time expired.

Alessia stepped into the cab, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts of the morning she just had. Her sister would not believe a word of what had happened to her last night and this morning. She didn’t even know where she would start once she arrived at the hotel. She might’ve lied when she told Tom she would no longer dwell on it. The situation was just too crazy for her not to though.

“Rough morning, miss?” the taxi inquired inquisitively, eyeing her through his revision mirror. She sighed, staring out the window at the buildings passing by.

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

Part Two

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Apology, pt 1 (Short)

CONTENT WARNING: HEAVY MENTIONS OF TORTURE WOUNDS (THOUGH NOT DESCRIBED), HEAVILY IMPLIED TORTURE (CANON), GENERAL CANON INHERITANCE CYCLE WHUMP(?)

The only movement that could be seen was her breathing.

The woman’s bare sides rose and fell in ragged pulls of stale air. The harsh light of the bare bulbs above set the bloodied sweat that coated her skin glistening, beads of it rolling down her mutilated shoulders and back only to be interrupted by the grimy sports bra that kept her modesty. Fresh blood joined the tracks of moisture as they slid from her wrists, arms held up on each side by two of the many restraints that hung from the ceiling. Her hands were limp, pads of her fingers torn in earlier attempts of taking some of the weight off her hunched form.

The shallow pools of frigid saltwater that she knelt in rippled ever so gently, lapping at her muddied fatigues. Whatever had caused the disturbance in the gore stained water elicited a sudden twitch from the prisoner. The thick, tangled braid hanging over her shoulder swayed with the miniscule motion, bumping against red and black bruises.

Dark eyes raised slightly from where they had been staring through near-closed lids at the battered reflection in the water. The gash rising from her jaw stung with sweat, bruises and torn muscles screaming at the barest movement. Another flake of dried blood fell from her forehead to float like a tiny boat in the puddle before it dissolved and sank beneath its grimy surface.

The door groaned under its own weight as it opened, though the woman didn’t make an effort to raise her head. Boots polished to perfection and light of step in the filth of the room advanced towards her, the man shaped monster that owned them sweeping in with a cocky stride.

He held an iron rod in his right hand, the end mashed and mangled in a jagged, flattened mockery of claws. He set it on the steel table as he approached. Seized a fistful of her pitch black hair behind one pointed ear and yanked her head up to leer over her.

“It’s time to start again, little elf.” Impossibly sharp teeth glinted in the yellow light, golden flame of the Broddring Empire high on his lean chest. “What is your answer?”

Her split lips barely moved, beads of blood leaving them with the the lightest trace of sound as she whispered her reply. The Shade leaned closer, giving her hair a brutal yank as his own lips curling up in anticipation of finally having broken her. “Speak up, little elf. Tell me what you know and I will end this for you.”

And as he came face to face with her the woman’s eyes flared open, burning with the unbroken spirit that her body could not reflect.

She turned into his grip and spat a mouthful of blood in his face.

The Shade jerked back and released his hold on the woman before spinning her head to the side with a vicious backhand. Her cheek split, but even under the sheets of fresh blood and the wild hair that obscured part of her visage, it was clear that she was smiling. Her shoulders shook with low laughter, paying no heed to the cracks and rifts the movements made in the wounds across her back.

The man shaped monster straightened and wiped away the crimson that splattered his pale skin, movements carefully controlled to contain the rage and bloodlust that seethed beneath the surface.

“Very well, little elf.” His words were tight with malice as he took up the iron rod once again. The end glowed ruddy orange at his command. “It’s time to start again.”

Her laughter continued until the first strike landed.

“Turn it off.”

Islanzadí’s order was quiet. Elrün, the elf she had assigned to this section of the Gil’ead records rooms, stopped the disks playback before the words had fully left his Queen’s mouth.

Behind him, were the elvish Queen stood, Elrün could hear the nearly imperceptible clicks of the wood fibers in his chair’s back snapping under the woman’s white knuckled grip. “…Your Majesty…what would you have me do with these?”

“There are more?” The question was sharp compared to her previously subdued voice. “How many?”

Elrün looked away from the computer bay he was sat at, swallowing back his own anger as he removed the stack of jacketed disks from where he had hidden them. To see one of his people so brutally treated had repulsed him. Knowing who exactly the prisoner had been…that welled up even more rage in his chest. “There are…eleven disks in total, ma’am. The timestamps indicate that…” He stopped, feeling the Queen remove her hands from his chair to prevent it from breaking. “Indicate that these were only recorded over the course of a month.”

He didn’t have to say which month. She had seen the date on the video, and it hung unspoken in the air.

The damage they had seen in that particular recording had only been dealt in the first week.

Elrün cleared his throat when Islanzadí did not speak. “What would you have me do with them?”

The Queen was silent for another moment before holding out her hand. “Give them to me. I will ask the Ambassador what she wishes to be done. It is her decision.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A/N: Pt 2 is in the works for reals guys. There’s like...3-4 different versions that have been started and I just need to settle on which goes the most smoothly tomorrow while I wait for class. 

Explanation ramble incoming...

IF IT WASN’T CLEAR: Many police interrogations are filmed. It’s always tweaked my brain that Islanzadi and the elves took Gil’ead and that, in my headcanons, Islanzadi ripped apart that fucking prison with her own scary magic because of buried mama bear instincts or something, and I found it really odd that we never saw a reaction from mother or daughter about Izzy taking the place that Arya was captured. 

Then it kinda hit me this weekend that what if Durza, thinking he would break her quickly, had, like many of his other interrogations, filmed multiple torture sessions the first month or so of Arya’s imprisonment, to be sure that any information she gave would be recorded. And then while the elves were combing records to see if the Empire had turned any Vardon prisoners into double agents, someone found the recordings and handed them off to Izzy. 

It also really bothers me that Islanzadi pretty much (and this is canon I’ve checked it) pretty much victim blames Arya when she returns. Instead of blaming the Varden, which was an asshole thing to do anyway, Izzy realizes she needs to restart contact with the rebellion and then turns to Arya and is like “You wouldn’t have been tortured if you hadn’t gotten that tattoo young lady” because whAT THE FUCK, WOMAN?! 

And I wanted Arya knowing that her torture wasn’t some fucked up choice some made like saying ‘hey Durza, torture me.’ and knowing that she is not responsible for the Empire just being a brutal fucking bag of fucks, and Izzy FINALLY apologizing for saying it was Arya’s fault. 

Anyway, yeah, the A/N is longer than the fic again. Sorry!!

[albionscastle]

Red Eye (Jack x Reader

RED EYE

REQUEST FOR @woodlandwitch Reader meets Jack on a long haul flight, at first he comes across as arrogant and they don’t get along at all, but through the course of the flight they bond a bit (eg - sharing things, taking turns to sleep using an empty seat in their row). When they arrive at their transfer destination their connecting flight is postponed so they kind of stick together and decide to share hotel room. Lets just say they get on REALLY well that night. By the end its left ambiguous whether they go their separate ways or decide to see each other again. (But we all kinda know they will). AN: flight time from London to Singapore is app 15 hours

MASTERLIST

You made it to the plane with barely a minute to spare, literally. There were getting ready to shut the doors when you yelled for them to hold up. It wasn’t even your fault, you thought defensively as the attendant checked your ticket, you were on standby and you’d barely had an hour to get your ass to the airport. The flight was a bloody red eye to boot, taking off past 11pm.

Making your way down the aisle to your seat you laughed, remembering you watched the movie the other day, drooling over Cillian Murphy the whole time. Jackson Rippner in all his murderous glory would probably be a damn sight better you thought with a sigh, eyeing the boots currently occupying your seat.

“Excuse me.” you said softly while stowing your overhead luggage.

Nothing. The guy didn’t budge, his hoodie covering his face showing he was either asleep of deliberately ignoring you.

“Sir, excuse me, but that’s my seat.” you said a little louder, earning you a sleepy-sounding grunt as he shifted his feet to the empty seat between you.

Sitting down with a sigh you buckled in and watched the safety demo while your rowmate started snoring softly.

It was going to be a long fucking flight.

The flight attendant came by to check the overheads and seat backs, her stern look now set on the sleeping man.

“Sir, I need you to take your seat properly for take off.” Her no nonsense tone must have gotten through, the man jolting out of sleep, his booted foot coming into contact with your thigh under the arm rest.

“Ow!”

You narrowed your eyes to give the jerk a dirty look as he sat up, rubbing what would be a lovely bruise by the time you landed. Some people just really managed to get under your skin and apparently spending the next 15 hours sitting next to this jackass was going to be an exercise in anger management.

“Shite, sorry. I didna mean tae hit ye luv.” he mumbled, struggling to sit up in the space he had.

You had a quick flash of bright blue eyes as he moved upright to don his seatbelt. He was a tall man, at least 6 foot and you felt the tiniest bit sorry for him being all squeezed in like that. At least you were short enough to stretch out a little. The attendant moved on, your “buddy” slumping against the window, hoodie still obscuring his face. He was snoring again in moments, sleeping through the pilot’s announcements and the plane taxiing out to the runway.

Never a great flier, you closed your eyes as the engines got louder, breathing long and deep against the panic in your chest. The moment as the engine reached its crescendo and the brake was released was the worst and you knew your knuckles were white on the armrests while the metal cylinder hurled you down the tarmac.

Only when the plane had completed its lurching ascent and the seatbelt sign dinged did you manage to pry your fingers off the armrest, opening your eyes with a deep breath. An amused chuckle came from the direction of the window and you turned sharply.

“Firs time?”

He still leaned against the window, only his mouth visible. A mouth curved in a mocking smile. You clenched your jaw, immediately defensive.

“I’ve flown before.” You said tightly. “I’m just not fond of taking off.”

“I’d be more worried about the plummeting tae the ground if ye wan my opinion.”

“Which I don’t.” you snapped.

He simply shrugged and said nothing. You couldn’t tell if he was watching you from underneath that infuriating hoodie and you felt self conscious, even in the dimness of the cabin. Determined to get some sleep you leaned your head against your seat, curling around yourself in an attempt to get comfortable. Dozing off you would wake up after a few minutes, anxious and uncomfortable. No matter what you tried, you just couldn’t settle.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Dazzle me.” you murmured, rubbing your eyes.

He waited for a moment as the attendant handed you blankets and pillows, like they were going to help in any way.

“The armrests on this plane go up.” he stated, showing you with the one closest to him. “Jus like tha luv. Now if ye lean yer pillow on the aisle ye can lay oot.”

You weren’t certain, but you tried anyway, surprised when you felt your body relax, even in the cramped fetal position.

“Now I can do this.” he resumed his original position, stretching his legs over yours to rest his feet behind your calves. “Is no perfect but better than before, yeah?”

“Yes, much better.” you agreed reluctantly, still uncomfortable with the intimacy of the position.

“Ye can rest easy lass, I’m dead tae the world, no chance o bein manhandled in yer sleep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Aye, I prefer my women tae be conscious. Get some sleep stranger.”

“Name’s Y/N.” you mumbled, drifting off.

“Jack. Pleased tae meet ye.”

That was the last you heard before sleep claimed you.

Sometime later you opened your eyes against bright sunlight, squinting painfully as you tried to sit up. Your body felt stiff and sore but nowhere near as bad as you’d expected.

“Shite, sorry, didna mean tae wake ye.”

The light went away and you realised Jack had been looking out through the window shade.

“It’s ok.” You yawned. “What time is it?”

“London time or Singapore?”

“Either. No, London.”

“7am London time, fuck only knows wha time it is in Singapore.”

“I was asleep for 7 hours?” you asked incredulously.

Your eyes were gritty and rubbing them was just making it worse. You excused yourself to the restroom, splashing water on your face when you were done. In the mirror you saw a tired woman, shadows under your eyes and hair that was just….yuck. Smoothing it back into submission you made your way back to your seat.

“Feel better?”

“Loads.”

Your stomach chose that moment to gurgle in hunger, embarrassingly loud in the still dim cabin. Probably would have been helpful if you’d eaten anything the day before, not that you’d known you’d be flying around the world in mere hours.

“They said summan about some brekkie in about an hour.”

Reaching forward into your bag you pulled out a couple of muesli bars you’d remembered to throw in at the last moment. The sound of Jack’s stomach gurgling too made up your mind and you held one out to him. He took it eagerly, sitting up straight, the hoodie falling back off a messy pile of golden blonde hair.

“Ye’re an inflight goddess, even if ye do snore.”

“I do not snore.” you huffed indignantly, trying hard not to notice how handsome the man was.

“Sorry tae be the bearer o bad news luv, but yes ye do. No much, but the little grunts are kind of endearin.”

He grinned around a mouthful of chocolate and oats.

“Well at least I don’t snore like a souped up chainsaw.” you sneered, earning you another shrug.

“I never said I didn’t, it’s only ye tryin tae deny yer natural tendencies.”

Arrogant shit. It must have been nice to go through life as confident as he was. Probably had hordes of women falling at his feet too, and for good reason. Movie star good looks and a Scottish accent to die for, you were practically panting yourself.

“So I shouldn’t ignore my natural tendency to smack you in the gob then?”

“Now tha’s uncalled for ye wee spitfire.” he laughed. “Besides Im tae pretty fer ye tae hit.”

“Well someone has a healthy ego.” you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I haf tae make a livin somehow, I’m no smart enough tae be a rocket scientist.” “So, what, you’re a gigolo then?” you snorted.

“Why? Ye in the market fer one?” he raised his brows comically, causing you to dissolve into giggles.

“If I were, I certainly wouldn’t be looking for one on a plane.”

“Not even tae join the mile high club? I hear it’s quite a thrill.” he winked and your cheeks felt hot.

“How much of a thrill can it possibly be?” you retorted, laughing. “ I mean, picture it. That tiny bathroom, no way my ass would be sitting on that nasty sink and yours would be banging against the door cause you’s have to bend those flamingo legs.” you gestured to his long, very nice legs. “And even if all that could be managed, you couldn’t make a sound. Where’s the fun in that?”

You’d surprised him, score one for you.

“Ye’re no wrong lass. But suddenly I have a strong desire tae try it anyway, jus tae prove ye wrong.”

Score one for him.

“No response tae that one then?” he snickered, taking his meal from the attendant, who was definitely making eyes at him.

To his credit he wasn’t paying any attention, already digging into his food with gusto.

“You are so lucky, getting to sit next to Jack Lowden for 15 hours.” she whispered as she handed you your meal.

Who? The name meant nothing to you, but apparently it did to her, she was even sighing as she walked away. You were going to have to Google it when you landed. As for being lucky, well you guessed you could have it a lot worse. Better to sit next to a handsome, funny, albeit slightly arrogant man than the seaty mouth breather you’d spend your last flight ignoring.

The standard airline food sat heavy in your stomach, but you were full and Jack had opened the shade again, the sun bright and warm against your face. With 6 hours more until you landed for your connecting flight you pulled out your book, hoping to lose yourself in its pages.

After 45 minutes you closed it with a sigh, unable to concentrate. Your mind kept wandering, contemplating choices you were making as well as ones you’d made. An anxious lump rose in your throat and for a moment you were a panic attack was imminent.

A sudden jump as the plane hit an air pocket had you white knuckled again, holding your breath until the shaking stopped. The captain’s voice came over the speaker warning of more turbulence to come. Nothing to worry about. Words which were invented for the sole purpose of making you worry more. “Hey Y/N?”

Jack was looking at you, a small smile on his face.

“What can I do you for?”

“Do ye wan tae play a card game? Keep yer mind off it?”

“Keep my mind off what, the fact that everytime this thing shakes it’s possible we might be about to plummet 30,000 feet to a horrible death?”

“No. Well aye, but no like there’s anythin we could do tae change tha. I mean take yer mind off whatever it is botherin ye?”

“Why the fuck not?” you shrugged, turning in your seat.

For the next few hours you played every card game you could think of, plus a few new ones courtesy of your new friend. Instead of making monetary bets, and running out of airline peanuts before the end of the first hand, you bet information. So far you’d learned that Jack was 29, had a ballet-dancing brother, a love for Sinatra and that he liked Scotland better than any place on earth. He’d in turn learned what you did for a living, where you grew up, how much you loathed oysters, your favorite movie, color and your celebrity crush. Admittedly he was much better at cards than you were so you were left somewhat lacking in the information stakes.

As the games had progressed your initial opinion of him had changed. He wasn’t arrogant so much as he was a smart ass, and boy was he quick as a whip with the comebacks. You honestly hadn’t laughed so much in ages and by the time your approach to Singapore was announced, you felt as though you’d known him forever. It hadn’t escaped your notice either that his voice flowed over you like smooth whiskey, the kind of voice you could never get tired of hearing.

“I never did ask ye why ye’re travellin tae Singapore.”

“I’m on my way to Sydney, I have a connection in Singapore.”

For a moment you could have sworn he looked disappointed.

“What about you?”

“Work, I’m here fer three weeks. Are ye off tae Sydney fer work then?”

“No, I’m visiting a friend, long overdue.”

“Ahhh man friend then, aye?” “No, female. We had a falling out some time ago.”

To his credit, Jack didn’t ask any more about it and you offered nothing. She’d called out of the blue and asked you to come, so here you were.

“What sort of work are you doing, Jack?”

He looked a little taken aback for a second before answering.

“We’re makin a film.”

Well that explained the attendant. He had to be an actor, no way a face that handsome was working behind the camera.

“That sounds like…..fun.” you offered, knowing full well anything you said would just sound asinine. “Have you been in anything I might have seen?”

“Ummm, yeah.” he looked confused. “I was in Dunkirk wi yer sweetheart.”

“With Cillian Murphy? No way!” you couldn’t place him, but honestly your eyes had mostly been on Cillian when you saw the movie. Who the hell had Jack played?

You wracked your brain while the Scotsman looked at you dumbfounded. Then suddenly it hit you like a brick wall.

“You were the pilot! The one who crashed.”

“Aye, geeze lass, ye’re no good fer me ego at all are ye?” he laughed.

“Not that you need any help in that department.” you quipped. “The beard threw me off.”

“Not tae mention the fact that ye were tae busy eyballin the love o yer life tae even notice anyone else.”

“I can’t help it, it’s the cheekbones.” you sighed melodramatically, earning a laugh.

Jack crossed his arms over his torso, sticking out his bottom lip in a toddler-worthy pout. You were laughing when you were suddenly struck with the desire to bite it. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized how much you wanted to feel his mouth on your skin.

Where the fuck had that come from?

Almost as though he could read your mind his eyes fixed on you, hooded and full of sultry promise. You wished suddenly that Singapore was your destination, instinctively knowing that were you not catching another flight immediately, he would have you.

And oh God would you let him.

Whatever might have been said next disappeared. It was time to land, to buckle up and prepare for the stomach lurching final descent. Your fingers were wrapped around the armrests again, bracing yourself for your least favorite part of flying.

“Hey luv.” Jack’s voice was soft. “Ye got this.”

His fingers, long and warm pried yours from the armrest, sliding in between. You turned your head as the plane shook, letting his kind blue eyes comfort you, his palm pressed against yours. Your breath mimicked his automatically and you lost yourself to the point where you jolted in surprise as the wheels thudded and squealed onto the tarmac. You’d landed safely at your destination.

It was time to say goodbye.

It was the last thing you wanted to do.

In unspoken agreement you were the last two to deplane, Jack pulling your bag from the overhead for you. His palm was on the small of your back as you walked down the tunnel to customs. He stayed with you as you both went through customs and into the terminal.

“What time’s yer flight tae Sydney?”

“It’s in two hours, not sure what gate yet though.”

“Les go see, I’ll sit wi ye till ye haf tae board.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Nah, I came a day earlier, everyone else arrives tomorrow.”

“Oh, ok.”

No way were you going to say no to two more hours with him.

Of course you weren’t counting on your flight being cancelled. Looking at the red letters on the departure board you felt your anxiety levels rise. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You’d never had a flight cancelled before so you weren’t sure of the protocol.

“Les go tae the airline and see what’s about.”

Clearly many people had the same idea and you spent half an hour in line, laughing half heartedly while Jack tried to cheer you up. The whole thing was easier than you thought and you came away with a new flight leaving the next morning and a voucher for food and accomodation. Apparently flying that close to a tropical cyclone wasn’t something the airline was willing to risk.

“I better go find a hotel and some food.” you laughed, sure that this was the moment you would go your separate ways.

“I’ve got ye straight, ye’re stayin wi me.”

Only his arm reaching in front of you prevented you from walking into a pole as you gaped at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, I’m not.” he smiled wolfishly. “And I don think ye are either.”

He stepped closer, looking down at you with that same look from the plane. You could smell him this close, feel the warmth that radiated from him. He was so freaking tall, all lean and perfect, and his thighs…..

“Alright then, lead the way.” you said with way more confidence than you felt, glowing as his smile widened.

He placed a hand on your shoulder as you made your way through the terminal, telling you about his role and he seemed genuinely excited about it. Your nervousness had faded away before you even reached the doors to hail a cab. He was just so easy to be with.

The hotel was buy the water, way more luxurious than you’d expected. He’d been booked in on the 10th floor, high enough that the bustle of the city below was muffled, even on the balcony. The view was spectacular and the tropical air was warm and sultry.

Ever a gentleman, Jack offered you the shower first and you were grateful to wash 15 hours of travel off you. Honestly, you'd both been beginning to stink and gorgeous as he was, BO wasn't appealing on anyone. You stayed on the balcony while he showered, your mind only wandering a few dozen times to the wet, naked man in the bathroom. Deep in thought you didn't notice at first when he was done, his presence not registering until you felt his fingers brush the skin of your knee.

Opening your eyes you were met with his grin, the sun making his still damp hair glisten. He wasn't just handsome, you thought, he was take your breath away gorgeous. And he was yours, at least for the next few hours.

“Do ye wan tae venture oot tae eat or stay in?”

He sat on the bench beside you, pulling your legs over his lap.

“Stay in.’ you said immediately, no way were you wasting a second of this.

He’d obviously had the same idea, producing a room service menu and phone instantly. His hand stroked the length of your shin absentmindedly as he placed your orders and you almost nodded off, he was just that comforting.

“Food’ll be here in 30ish.” he murmured, putting the phone aside and stretching out his legs.

“Do we even know what time it is here?” you yawned.

“No really, but I did make sure ye haf a wake up call fer yer flight.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, thanks.”

“Don go tae sleep on me lass, ye need tae eat.” he grinned, fingers tickling the back of your knee.

You jerked, laughing as he held your legs down with one hand, the other torturing your ticklish skin.

“I’m awake!” you giggled, wiggling your legs in his grasp.

He smiled at you, one of those smiles that took your breath away and you stared back, enthralled by everything about him. You knew you would never forget how blue his eyes were, how straight his nose or how his bottom lip pouted out crookedly.

If you never saw him again after tonight you would be sorry.

Your food came and was eaten as you shared various stories. Jack talked about how his life was changing, how much less privacy he had. He said it was the tradeoff for doing what he loved but you got the feeling that he wasn’t quite ok with it. Honestly though, you could have listened to him forever, there was so much passion in him, and just as much for the stories you shared with him. This was a man who wasn’t afraid to really live.

It turned out to be only 5pm when the service cart was rolled back into the hall, too early to sleep for your flight at noon, so you decided on a movie. You were starting to overthink a little, had you misread his interest? You were sure you hadn’t but still, 40 minutes into the film and you sat apart on the room’s small love seat, the anticipation almost killing you.

Your hand rested on the cushion between you, a hair’s breadth away from his, just waiting. The air was thick around you, your whole body aware of him, of his every breath. When his pinkie finger brushed against yours you shivered, that one small touch setting you alight. The movie played on and Jack’s gaze never wavered from the screen, even as his fingers traced yours gently, holding your hand against his contentedly.

The movie finished and you honestly couldn’t have said what it was about, your only focus being on the man beside you. You both sat quietly as the credits rolled, him still holding your hand and you wondering if he needed or wanted some kind of sign from you.

Thankfully it appeared he’d been doing his own thinking and when you finally moved to face him you were met with that same heated look from the plane. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against your cheek, then the corner of your mouth gently.

When you sighed he moved like lightning, covering your mouth, sliding his tongue inside to roam freely. He cupped the back of your head with one hand, holding you still as he pulled himself closer, kissing you deeper. Responding, you pushed yourself toward him, running your tongue over the inside of his mouth, tasting the mint from his toothpaste.

He moaned against your mouth and gripped your fingers tightly, your free hand reaching up to grasp at his neck. His skin was warm and smooth there and you stroked your fingers up and down between the neck of his shirt and his hairline. You didn’t resist when he pushed you backwards, your back hitting the cushions. He laid over your side, running a hand down to your knees and pulling your legs up over his so you were completely horizontal. His feet were still on the floor and your thighs resting over one of his hips. It felt so intimate and yet not enough, not by a long shot.

Jack’s mouth moved away from yours and starting making a trail up and down your neck. You bared it for him with a sigh, running your fingers over his bare arm. His hand splayed on your stomach making you squirm and you kissed his neck, using your tongue to taste his skin. You couldn’t decide what tasted better, his neck or his mouth, though when he took your lips back again and you tasted mint you knew. His mouth, definitely his mouth. Your tongue flicked over his, your senses overwhelmed and you knew you never wanted to experience anything but this, ever.

No matter how foolish it might be.

Bringing your hands up to his face you pulled his head away until you were a few inches apart. You were breathing heavily as you stared at his flushed face, but you saw it register in his eyes that you were stopping him. He nodded once and laid his head down on your shoulder, his fingers still stroking the bared skin of your belly.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“Don’t be.” you smiled, brushing your fingers through the hair at his temple. “I just need a moment.”

You were worried that you you were getting too involved emotionally. A step back out of your head was what you probably needed right now. You wanted this, so much, you were only flesh and blood after all and he was…..well fucking perfect if you were honest.

He moved so he was stretched out on the loveseat, half on you, legs tangled together. You smiled again to encourage him, your eyes closing when he moved closer again, playfully grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth and running his tongue over the spot when he pulled away.

Jack’s arm moved under you, cradling your head against his shoulder. Immediately wrapped in a sense of security and comfort, you breathed him in deeply. Giving in you smiled to yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist, gently rubbing his side through his shirt. His body radiated heat wherever he touched you and you would have been perfectly content to stay just like this forever.

“I like yer shirt.” he whispered in your ear, one long finger tracing the line of your neck.

You looked down at yourself and groaned.

“You would.” you laughed, your sleeping shirt had a picture of Cillian Murphy on it.

He smiled, you could feel it against your cheek and you shivered slightly. So he smiled again, this time gently pressing his lips against your skin.

Thunder boomed suddenly and you could hear the sound of rain falling gently outside. You ran a hand down his cheek as the thunder boomed. Then you got an idea.

Pushing him back you stood up and took hold of his hands.

“Come with me.”

He stood up, a bemused smile on his face and let you lead him to the balcony door. When you’d opened it, you tugged him out into the warm rain.

“What are ye aboot ye daft woman?” Jack laughed as the rain started to hit his face..

You stepped up to him, draping your arms around his neck and allowing the rain to wash over you both.

“Checking something off my bucket list.”

“Wha, gettin yerself knackered fer yer flight?” he laughed, winking to show he was just teasing.

“No you dope.” you chuckled. “To dance in the rain with a handsome man.”

“Well shite I better help ye find one then so ye’re no stuck w’ the likes o me.” You simply shook your head, resting your forehead on his wet shoulder. He slid his hands to your hips, pulling you flush against him. Together you swayed to an imagined beat, moving seamlessly as the rain fell around you. Jack’s sigh against your neck made you smile and you held him tighter. Pulling back he looked down at you, water trickling down his face and neck.

“Lass we’re soaked.” he laughed.

“Yup.” you looked down to where your clothes clung wetly to your body. “Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted, grabbing you up and spinning while you both laughed, water flinging out all around you.

When he finally stopped, you fell back onto the cushioned bench and lay there panting for several seconds. When you finally chanced a look at him you saw him sprawled out beside you, his hair wet and flattened to his head, clothing clinging to his body. His eyes were closed and his head back against the cushions, he looked, in a word, breathtaking. One blue eye opened and peered at you, catching you in your perusal and you flushed as he chuckled.

“See summan ye like?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted.

Hell yes you did, a lot of things in fact. So many that you could have taken all night to catalogue them all. So you simply continued to gaze at him, watching as he propped himself up on his elbows and raised his face to the rain.

Biting your lip, you held your breath at the sight of him. When he turned to look at you again you gave up, crawling the foot or so over to him to lean over and kiss his rain-soaked lips. He sighed against your mouth, opening beneath you and allowing you to slide your tongue over his teeth. He started a sucking motion with his tongue sending shivers throughout your body. You realized that he was drinking the rain that was falling from your face, over your lips and into his mouth. You groaned, feeling yourself go weak.

The moment that you thought you might collapse he shot up and neatly flipped you over so you lay along the bench, limbs intertwined, torsos pressed together, lips still joined. He moved his mouth over your face, sucking the water from your skin. Your head fell back as the fingers of both his hands rand down your arched neck and his tongue flicked out to taste the hollow at the base of your throat. Leaning up again he raked his eyes over you, the flare in his eyes telling you he noticed the fact that your shirt was plastered to your skin, and you wore nothing beneath it.

“I see summan I like.” he muttered, running the palm of his hand over your chest and over one breast. He circled it around, watching your body’s reactions to his touch with a satisfied look. His hand slid over your stomach and up under your shirt, peeling it away from your heated skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His palm settled over your breast again and you pressed against him with a sigh. Your whole body ached for his touch and the evidence of that pebbled against his hand. Jack’s head lowered, his mouth moving like a whisper over your other breast. He sucked at you through the material of your shirt as his thumb worked magic on your bared skin. You thought you might pass out from the pleasure of it all, it was too much. It wasn’t enough.

With one swift movement he pulled your shirt up over your head, trapping your arms above your head for a moment while he ran his hands gently all over the front of you. He lowered his head again, his tongue reaching out to lick off the water that trickled over your breasts. With the very tip of his tongue he touched your nipple, causing your whole body to lift off the bench and your breath to push through your teeth in a hiss. His arm slid under your back, keeping your body arched against him as his teeth scraped over you.

“Oh God!” you moaned, freeing your arms and dragging your nails over his back as you tried to pull him closer.

He complied, enclosing your nipple in the heat of his mouth, sliding his wet tongue over it in circles as he sucked gently. You bit your lip hard to keep from whimpering when he switched to the other side and added a few gentle nips with his teeth. Suddenly feeling desperate you grabbed at the back of his shirt, dragging it up and off, tossing it to land in the rain somewhere. Your grasped his head, pulling him to you and applying your lips to his neck, biting his neck, biting at his skin and drinking in the rain that washed over him. The sparse hair on his chest tickled against your naked skin, his beard rasping against you as his tongue stroked over your collarbone.

You shifted your legs so you could hook your knees over the backs of his thighs, pulling him as close as you could. Instantly you felt him hard against you, there was no way to miss it. With the weight of his body behind him he dug into you almost painfully until you shifted and he rested exactly where you wanted him. You gritted your teeth when you realized you could feel every inch of him, a lot of them throbbing and hot. He felt you moving, dragging his mouth from your breasts to look up at you with concern.

“Are ye ok luv?”

“Yes. More.” You muttered pushing against him with your hips until he was kneeling.

You sat up slightly, placing a hand against his neck and drawing him in for another mind blowing kiss, your tongues sliding against each other wetly and the rain falling between you and into your mouths. Your thighs were slung over his hips and even with the space between you he was still touching you, making it blatantly obvious he was going commando under his pants. Just the thought of it made you shudder as you ran your tongue over the roof of his mouth. He groaned against you and brought his hands to your hips, holding you still as he ground his body against you.

He was driving you insane and you started to pant against his mouth as he rubbed against you. Anxious to feel more of him you tore at his pants, sliding them down just enough for you to be able to reach down and touch him. You lightly ran your nails up and down the length of him, satisfied when he started to shake. A little braver now you grasped him tightly, moving the palm of your hand against his silky heat.

The combination of your touch and the rain was apparently more than he could handle. With a growl he pulled away and stood up, letting his pants fall to the ground and kicking then aside. While your gaze was aimed wantonly between his thighs, he knelt down, grasped your hips roughly and spinning you so you sat facing him.

Jack’s fingers hooked the waistband of your shorts and you lifted your hips as he slide them slowly down your legs. His hot gaze raked over you, eyes darting up to meet yours. Your cheeky grin told him he wasn’t the only one who slept commando. He laughed, shook his head and with his eyes boring hotly into yours he found your thighs and gently opened you to him. His hands ran down your legs as he moved then to hook around his waist. When you were in position he kissed you again, this time with more hunger. You felt like he was devouring your soul as he bit at your lips and when he pushed forward into you, you cried out against him. He stilled instantly, hips whispering across your ear.

“Ye make me feel so alive.” he groaned.

He uttered those words the exact moment he moved forward again, sliding against you, inside you until he was buried deep. Your head flew forward onto his shoulder, sinking your teeth in as he started to slide out again. You knew what was coming, knew how good he would feel when he pushed inside you again and your every nerve ending came alive at the thought of it.

Jack’s hands came to the small of your back and pulled you closer, arching you against him. Your  hands grasped at his shoulders as he moved so damn slowly it was killing you. Your thighs gripped his hips tighter and he groaned in your ear.

“God ye feel fucking incredible.” he grunted against your neck, his mouth leaving a burning trail over your skin.

You pushed up against him, giving him access, his tongue rasping over your nipple as he took another plunge inside you. The sensations were almost too much for you to handle, the feel of his wet, hot tongue against your skin, the soft rain on your skin, the throbbing stretch of him inside you as he moved. You felt your entire body begin to shake uncontrollably and you gripped him tighter. Involuntary cries escaped you as he continued to move smoothly inside you, his mouth coming to your ear again.

“I want tae feel ye come luv.” he whispered, running a gentle hand over your hair. “God, I wan tae feel tha so fucking bad.”

Hearing his voice in your ear like that sent you over the edge and you fell back against the cushions as your eyes glazed over and you exploded into a million pieces. Jack didn’t stop as you clenched and quivered around him, he moved just as slowly as before, waiting for you to come back to him. You knew he could feel your pleasure as he groaned and grunted. When you opened your eyes again you saw him leaning over you, smiling proudly. You bit your lip, sighing as he thrust languidly, setting you on fire again. Reaching up your heavy arms you pulled him down on top of you, legs wrapped around his waist. You licked the droplets of rain that fell from his lips before you nipped at his ear.

“Fuck me, Jack, please. I need you.”

With a yelp he buried his head against your neck and moved faster, harder. You felt his hot breath on your skin, heard his ragged gasps as he took what he needed from you. Your fingers dug into his taut rear pulling him closer, deeper always wanting more.

“God, fuck, so good.” he moaned in your ear and you felt him shiver.

He was so close.

“I want to see your face.” you whispered.

He leaned up and nodded, biting his lip. His eyes were squeezed shut, rain and sweat dripping from his forehead, cheeks and nose. It fell in droplets into your open mouth and you drank him in, watching his stunning face as he started to lose control.

God he was gorgeous like this.

You felt it before you saw it, he was twitching inside you, then his eyes flew open and he let out a roar as his whole body went stiff. Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, mouth gaping open while he shook. He collapsed on top of you, head on your chest, struggling for breath while you groaned, almost at the breaking point again.

He felt it, moaning deep in his throat, circling his hips against you as you jerked and twitched, exploding again, arms falling limply against your sides.

For a while you just lay there, letting the rain cool you both, Jack making no move to leave your body. You sighed contentedly, running your fingers through his wet hair, just relishing the feel of him. He raised himself up on his elbows, cradling your head in his hands and running his thumbs over your temples. Leaning down he kissed you softly before pulling away to smile down at you.

“Was tha what ye had in mind, lass?” he laughed.

“Mmmmmm, even better. I think I even ticked a few boxes I didn’t know I had.” you stretched like cat, your whole body perfectly relaxed and sated.

Tired as you were, you’d never felt better.

It was still close to midnight before you laid down to sleep, drying yourselves off having led to Jack tackling you onto the bed, head buried between your thighs until you were almost screaming his name. You spent the early hours of the morning comfortably nestled in his arms as he snored away in your ear. Then, when the sun rose you slid down his body, waking him with your tongue until he was panting mess, flipping you onto your belly and taking you with a passion you’d never experienced before.

Nothing was said about your departure, you didn’t want to ruin it, but you allowed yourself a moment in the shower to wish things were different and that he would be waiting for you when you returned to London. Jack kept his hands on you right up to the arrival of the cab, holding you on his lap quietly and keeping your hand in his all the way to airport security.

It was time for you say goodbye and you didn’t want to. A lump rose in your throat as he smiled softly.

“I’m glad ye sat next tae me on tha plane Y/N.” he reached out to cup your cheek.

“Me too Jack.” you rubbed your cheek against his palm.

He looked as though he wanted to say something and you were desperate for him to ask you to stay. You would in a heartbeat, this man…..this amazing, snarky, passionate man, you were certain you could love him.

“Have a safe flight and ye should really try tae finish tha book before ye land.”

He pulled you in for a hug, gripping you tightly while you buried your face in his chest, memorizing every detail of him. Jack tilted your face up to his, sending you soaring with the sweetest kiss you’d ever experienced.

“Bye Jack.” you managed to choke as he finally let you go.

They were calling your flight.

“I’ll be seein ye luv.”

The plane was in the air before you really took another breath. You felt the absence of him as a physical pain, despite the soft feel of his stolen shirt against your skin. Looking pensively out the window as Singapore and Jack got further and further away you remembered him mentioning your book. Sure you wouldn’t be able to concentrate you pulled it out, flipping through the pages until you noticed writing inside the back cover.

There was a phone number and an email address scrawled there, along with a short note.

“Really hope this doesna end here. Contact me when you land.” Yours, Jack

[akingsfool]

Bloodied and Bruised

Part of the Alien Race thing

.

Race was sitting on his bed. Spot had given him a room in his house while Race stays. Spot had gone back to the place they first brought Race. One of Spot’s friends was going back to Race’s moon to study his culture. So, Race was alone in Spot’s house. Well, almost alone. Spot had a ‘pet’, as he called it. Humans called it a dog. Roger, was it’s name. Race was weary around Roger. The dog kinda scared him. It had sharp teeth and long nails and so much fur. Humans said that a dog's hearing was really good, and they could smell almost anything. Race didn't like that. He also didn’t like that they made loud noises. Spot called it ‘barking’, and Race didn’t like it.

Race was writing in the notebook Jack gave him. He had a pretty good list going.

Humans have foods that hurt them, but they eat them anyway

Humans keep creatures as pets, sometimes even hostile ones

There were quite a few types of humans: girl, boy, both, neither, and trans?

There were different human races: Japanese, Indian, Korean, American, African, and a lot more

There were stages in human life: baby, child, teen, adult, elder

Humans don't like fights, but some humans start them

Humans don't have fangs

Humans are not as pale as my race

Race had a pretty good list going, and he was only there for three human days. Life on earth was very different from life on his moon. And, he kinda missed it. JoJo, Albert, and Jack were back home. There weren't many of his kind, either. It was only Jack, JoJo, Albert, Smalls, Romeo, Kathrine, Smalls, Crutchie, Roger, Specs, and Race left. There were a lot of humans. Some were loud, some were quiet. Some couldn't talk, some couldn't hear, and some couldn't see. Race didn’t know if he would know all there is by the time he had to go home.

The door slammed, getting Race’s attention. “Fuck!” a voice yelled. Curious, Race left his room. Spot was hunched over in the hallway by the door, holding his wrist. His knuckles were bloody and he had a bloody nose. Race wasn't very worried. Spot came home like that sometimes.

“What’s ‘fuck’?” Race asked, tilting his head. He had never heard that word on his moon. However, he did hear Spot say it sometimes. Usually only when he was mad or something happened that was unusual. Sometimes he said it just because.

Spot looked up at Race, surprised. The short boy shook his head. “Uh, it’s a bad word. Don't say it,” Spot explained, pushing himself up and wincing. Race’s eyes widened.

“Humans have bad words?” he asked. “There are words that are bad for humans?!” His mind was racing a mile a minute. What would happen to humans? If they heard this word, what would happen? Would they explode? Would they catch on fire? Would they die? He has to know!

“What? No!” Spot shook his head, shaking his wrist. “Adults just don't want little kids saying those words. Some adults don’t even say them.” That made a little more sense. But why were they called ‘bad words’ then? There were some human things that Race would never understand. Spot winced and grabbed his wrist. Race turned his attention to the human, sensing that he was clearly in pain.

“What happened?” he asked. Spot ignored him for a moment. Race followed Spot to the living room. Roger came up to Race and tried sniffing him, but Race moved away. He didn't understand why they did that.

“I hurt my wrist on my way home. It's nothing,” Spot shook his head. Race wasn’t convinced. It was hurting Spot and Race knew that it wasn’t nothing.

“It’s not nothing, you’re clearly in pain,” Race stated. He quickly became familiar with human pain after Spot fell down the stairs.

“It is nothing, Race. Let it go,” Spot started to go upstairs, but Race grabbed Spot’s wrist. Race knew Spot needed help, and he wanted Spot to get it. The wrist Race grabbed was Spot’s injured one. “Let go!” Spot yanked his wrist out of Race’s hand.

“You need medical attention!” Race was trying to get through to Spot, but he just wasn't listening. “It’s not nothing and it’s hurting you!”

“Why can’t you just let things go?” Spot walked upstairs, Race following close behind. “I don't NEED help! It IS nothing! I AM fine!” Race knew that it wasn’t the truth. He knew that Spot didn’t hurt his wrist coming home, either.

“Not true. It is NOT fine, it's NOT nothing, and you DO need help!” Race was going to make Spot get help, one way or another. “And you didn’t hurt it on your way home either! I’m not stupid! I know that you lied!” Both were mad. Race just didn’t understand why Spot wasn’t telling him or letting him help.

“Oh, congratulations,” Spot said sarcastically. Sarcasm was a thing Race had gotten quickly, they used sarcasm back on his moon. “Something you actually understand!” Spot yelled. Race didn’t understand why that hurt as much as it did. Spot was right, Race didn’t understand much. The alien could feel his skin get cold and turn a little blue. It was something that happened if his race got too sad, their skin would turn light blue. Race wasn’t going to let Spot know how much that hurt, though. If there was one thing that Race knew, it was how to hide his emotions. Turning blue was something that Spot thought just randomly happened. He wasn’t going to let him know otherwise.

“I don't understand why you won't let me help you!” Race was getting frustrated. Humans were so complicated! “Why won't you just tell me and let me help?! Let me help you!” Spot, who was attempting to go to his room, whipped his head around.

“Of course you don’t understand!” he shouted. It kind of scared Race. He had never seen a human so angry before. And, he read that humans get unpredictable when they get mad. “You seem to not understand anything!”

“Don't you see that I’m trying?!” Race souted. “I've been trying since I got here, Spot, but I can’t understand if you don’t help me!”

Spot rushed into his room and slammed the door. Race stood there, frozen. Roger nudged Race with his cold nose. Normally, Race would run or push Roger away. But Race didn't. The tall alien sunk to the floor, his back leaning against the wall. Roger waddled closer and nudged his head under Race’s hand. He had seen humans do this, so Race started to pet Roger. It helped, but Race didn’t understand why.

“Guess I really don’t understand anything,” he mumbled. Race could feel hot tears rush down his cheeks. “And, I don't think I ever will. Humans were easy to read about. They were simple creatures in the books. They have bones and ideas that changed how everyone lived. But being around humans is so different. They're complex. They have emotions and range in shape and size and color. They speak different languages than one another. One humans lifestyle is different from other humans. They get angry and they hide things from other humans. They get sad. They harm others and themselves. Why are humans so complicated?” Race didn’t know why he was talking to the furry creature, but it had a calming effect on him.

“Humans are so hard to talk to. Their behavior is odd, too. I guess I’ll never get it,” Race sighed. “But, I can still try. And, whether he likes it or not, I’m going to make sure Spot is ok.” The alien pushed himself off the floor and shuffled to Spot’s room. He was about to open the door, but he remembered that humans didn’t like that. You had to knock first, and then they had to tell you to come in. So, he knocked and waited on a response.

“What do you want, Race,” Spot snapped, not opening the door. Race wiped his palms on the jeans Spot and his friends had given him.

“Uhm, I want to make sure that you’re ok and to say that I’m sorry,” Race replied. There was a small chance that Spot would actually let Race into the room. “Are you ok?”

“Leave me alone. I’m fine,” Spot said. Race leaned against the door and sunk down to the floor. He wasn’t leaving. He was going to apologize for yelling, and he wasn’t leaving until he knew that Spot was alright.

“You don't sound or look fine,” Race protested.

“Look, I’m fine. Just leave me alone,” Spot didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking. Its ok, he didn’t have to. He just has to listen.

“I know that you probably don’t want to talk to me, but I can’t walk away while you’re like this. I’m not leaving. Not until I know you're ok,” Race would sit here all night if he had to.

“Why won't you just leave me be?! So what if I’m not ok? I will be,” Spot snapped, a bit of sadness in his voice.

“Spot, I lost over half my population. I am not losing you, too. I can’t lose another friend,” Race sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue of why, but I’m not sorry for wanting you to get help. I’m sorry that I yelled at you. But not everything is my fault. You came to your home all bloody and bruised, and then lied to me about it. And when I tried to help you yelled at me. We both did things that were uncalled for, but now we have to fix it. And I would like for you to tell me why you came home like that.” Race waited for a response.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Spot sighed. Race shook his head. Then he realized that Spot couldn’t see him.

“Nope!” Race said, popping the ‘p’. “Not until I know that you are ok.” Spot sighed and opened the door. That caused Race to fall into the room, hitting his head on the floor. “I’m ok,” he laughed.

“I guess you want to know why I look like,” Spot gestured to himself, bloody and bruised, “this. Come here.” Race scrambled to his feet and followed Spot into the room. Spot told Race to sit on his bed, so Race did. The short boy disappeared into his bathroom. He came out and looked cleaner. No more blood, and the bruises Race thought were there were actually just smudges of dirt. He was holding a white ace bandage. The boy sat next to Race.

“Do you, um, want my help?” Race asked, pointing to the bandages. Spot nodded. He was right handed and no good at doing things with his left hand. Spot handed the bandages to Race and thanked him. “Are you gonna tell me why you came back to your home like this?”

“It’s your home, too, Race,” Spot grinned for the first time all afternoon. “I was at the lab today, the place I work. Elmer was leaving today to back with your people, so I went to say goodbye. Well, my officials called me into the lab to discuss how I was doing on research. We had some, um, disagreements.”

“What kind of ‘disagreements’?” Race asked. Spot had never had any disagreements with the people he worked with.

“They wanted to study the anatomy of your kind,” Spot explained. Race gave him a confused look. “They wanted to know what made your body work, why it did what it did, and to know how your internal organs work. That would mean that they would have to put you in a lab and keep you there, keep you locked in a small room with people surrounding you all day. Maybe even kill you. I told them no, that it wasn’t going to happen. The two people who wanted keep you locked in a lab, who aren't even my bosses, kept telling me that they were gonna do it. Then, I snapped. I punched one of them and it became a fight. And that's what happened.” Race finished wrapping Spot’s hand and nodded.

“Thank you, Spot,” Race didn’t look at Spot. Spot just shook his head.

“Go get your notebook. I wanna see what ya got so far,” Spot said. Race perked up. “And, I correct anything that you got wrong. So that way all your information is correct.” Race smiled, rushing out of the room to get his notebook. Spot and Race spent the rest of the afternoon looking over Race’s data and correcting some of it.

[nyctosaurid]

you should feel free to atleast ask them to tag su crit/, i'm sure they'd understand

nah i mean i dont want people tagging things that only effect me, that’d be really selfish