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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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yandere!EraserMic x Reader

Mic skips a couple of steps and brings their darling home earlier than planned.

18+ only

tw: mention of blood, kidnapping, restraints

Hizashi felt panic bubble up his throat as he aggressively ran his fingers through his hair. This wasn't good, he wasn't good. He fumbled around trying to pull out his phone so he could message Shota.

-Sho, when are you getting home???

Probably in a few hours...-

why-

Shaking, the blonde continued:

-I brought her home

Hizashi was convinced he'd burn a whole in the rug with his pacing. Staring at his phone screen it looked like Shota was responding, then it stopped, started, stopped, and started. Finally after what felt like forever he got a simple reply:

I'll be home in 15 -

---

"Mic, what did you do?" Aizawa sighed. The grumpy man intended to scold his partner but he couldn't bring himself to do so when Mic was so close to a full on panic attack.

"She agreed to meet up with her ex, he was talking about getting back together and I panicked."

Aizawa sighed; he understood where his partner was coming from. Even though Hazashi had abandoned their plan to wait, he was no longer surprised by Mic's actions. There was an understanding between the pair as the atmosphere softened.

Mic lead him down the basement stairs, instead of using the overhead light there was already a dull glow from nightlight that allowed the Pro Heroes to see well enough. On the bed in front of them the comforter rose and fell along with the breath of their darling.

"She should be asleep for another hour or two," Mic whispered. "I only cuffed one wrist to the bed, I figured without her quirk she won't be too troublesome."

Aizawa lovingly rolled his eyes. His partner was such a softy. Nodding in agreement he moved the blanket aside to see the clunky metal quirk-cancelling cuff encircling her ankle. The two had plenty of equipment from their jobs that allowed them to make a "safe" space for their girl.

The couple had stumbled across you on accident; you worked at the new cat cafe that opened near their home. The two quickly became regulars and you snagged their hearts when you recognized them as cafe regulars. They went every Sunday, you had their orders memorized and even told them which cats seemed to miss them the most. Hizashi fell hard and fast. It wasn't until Aizawa found you crying in the ally after one of your shifts that your fate was sealed. You told him that one of the cats ran out of the cafe earlier that day got hit by a car. Learning about the death of a cat wasn't the only thing breaking his heart.

When he got home that evening he told Hizashi. They both agreed that you needed to be protected, shielded from the pain of reality, and never subjected to cat-death-by-car ever again. Essentially they baby proofed their home for you. Anything dangerous (from silverware to chemicals) was locked away. Eraserhead installed cameras throughout the house that streamed to both of their phones. The windows were locked and shatter resistant and they even installed a top of the line security system.

Then came the stalking, both kept tabs on you - in their minds they both casual about it. Aizawa even visited you (broke in) one night to bug your phone. This was how the learned about your ex. The breakup was amicable enough that you two occasionally checked in on each other. After all, you had been together from middle school all the way through your teens. The two of you just wanted and were ready for different things.

---

Sure enough, two hours later they could hear your faint scream travel up from the basement. Mic had taken care of the acoustics, of course. He made sure that not a peep could be heard from outside of the house; even before you were in the picture this was in place for his quirk. Between each floor of their house he also added sound minimizing flooring and installation. They needed to be able to hear you but also maintain their sanity.

"M-mr. Yamada? Mr Aizawa?"

Your wide eyes were filled to the brim with tears. As Mic sat on the edge of the bed you withdrew as far as you could from him.

Aizawa seemed more conscientious of your space; instead he knelt in front of the bed so he was at least on your level.

He was the first to speak, "There's no need to scream, y/n, you're safe here. It's just Zashi and I."

The tears finally spilled over. You tried asking them to let you go, that you wouldn't say anything. You told them you had work this evening (even if you didn't) and that they'd know something was wrong if you didn't show up. What made it worse was that the men just kept nodding, taking in every plea you made.

Finally Mic cut you off, "You don't have to worry about work anymore, me and Sho are gonna take care of you, it'll be great. We won't have to wait a whole week to spend time together."

"You can't," You hiccupped, "this is illegal. Once they find out you'll be in trouble."

It was as if they didn't hear you. Mic just kept rambling about what you three could do together and how perfect everything was and how you'd love living with them.

Aizawa on the other hand sighed and indicated to Mic that he should get off the bed. "It's a lot to take in right now, new environments can be scary. You should get some more rest, Zashi gave you a pretty strong sedative."

That explained the pounding in your head. You didn't bother to keep yelling as the ascended the stairs. Instead you focused on not crying. You kept telling yourself that now wasn't the time for tears. You needed to get away from your abductors. You had never been in handcuffs before, you tried pulling against the bed frame in hopes that something would give way. As you expected, nothing really happened. The cuff was secured tightly around your wrist and with every pull came a dull pain in your hand. There wasn't anything useful within your reach.

After crying on the bed for what felt like an eternity you were all out of tears. You thought back to a movie you saw last summer, this detective was cuffed to a furnace and he pulled his hand free. However, that guy definitely lost the flesh on his hand and probably broke something. Your stomach churned at the thought. Then your mind wandered to terrible things the men could do to you. What if they were cannibals? Or wanted to sell your organs on the black market? Weighing the pros and cons you began to pull violently away from the bedpost. The metal dug into your skin and you couldn't help but scream. Hopefully your captors wouldn't come until you were free. There was a small window at the very top of the adjacent wall maybe you could squeeze through.

The searing pain became too much and you stopped to collect yourself. There were already gashes along the base of your wrist and blood coated the handcuffs. You stifled a cry as you resumed your work. You let out a blood-curdling scream when you felt a pop. Instead of freedom, you felt even more trapped. Your thumb looks wrong and looked like it was caught half way in the handcuff and halfway out. Movies make everything seem so much easier.

Light poured in as the door to the basement opened. Panicking you concealed the evidence under the blanket. Both of your hands and parts of your clothes were painted with blood.

"Hey kitten," Aizawa cooed. "We brought you some water. Are you feeling any better."

It was Mic who noticed first. You flinched as his hands cupped your face, his thumb ran along your cheek and you felt something slick.

His voice was rushed and panicked, "Sweet girl, this is blood. Shota come here, y/n is bleeding."

The blonde man handles your face and neck trying to find the source of the bleeding.

You pulled the blanket tighter, "I'm okay, please let me go."

Then Aizawa noticed the specks of blood on the sheets. He tugged at the blankets until you couldn't hold on any more. You were really only holding on with one good hand. You couldn't recall seeing that much emotion on his face in the past.

"Mic go get the first aid kit, now," Eraser's voice was strained and quiet but it sent the other man scattering up the stairs. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuff. Instinctively your cradled the hand to your chest, crying for the umph-teenth time that day. The scruffy man pulled you on to his lap, cradling your head to his chest like you would a child.

"You're okay, Mic's gonna get the first aid kit and we're gonna get you all taken care of."

When it came to flight or fight involving direct confrontation, you chose the third option: freeze. You focus on your breathing as the man continued to soothe you. You could hear Mic nearly throw himself down the stairs as he made his was back to your side.

Mic was gentle with your wound, after cleaning the blood off the cuts were visibly deep but not as bad as it seemed. Aizawa told him that it looked like your thumb was dislocated and that he would fix it once the bleeding stopped.

As Hizashi continued to apply pressure you were able to hear him sniffling as he held back tears of his own. Aizawa reached over to comfort Mic as he continued his fawning over you, "You're safe, everything's okay now. We should've known that you would get scared, all by yourself down here. We won't leave you alone again, especially while you're adjusting to your new home."

#yandere erasermic #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yanderes x reader #yandere erasermic x reader

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anystalker707 · 3 years

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Spicy horror

Pairing: Frank x [fem] Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Smut / Fluff Summary: It's Halloween, and (y/n) and Frank finally confess their crushes to each other when binge watching horror movies on Frank's place. Kind of content: Praising / Protected / Oral

Requested by @thisisjustforrequestingfanfics (can't tag you, sorry hhh my T*mblr is acting weird)

a/n - I'm sorry that I coudn't proofread, I might do it soon; I was supposed to be asleep rn

"You're just annoying, old man," I tease with a grin. "But don't whine or else you'll ruin the makeup!" I continue spreading the white concealer over his face, careful to get it on the corners around his nose and around his eye, though not to irritate his eyes.

"No, fuck you," Frank groans, his face twitching to suppress any expression. "Why can't we watch it again tonight? They're the best movies! And stop calling me old man, it's just my birthday! I'm not decomposing or anything!" Despite his words, he smiles, opening his eyes once I pull away, leaning back against the chair of the desk – I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I agree." I grab the eyeshadow palette from the desk and move closer to him again. "TCM is a great series and all, but can we not watch it for a single week? It's your birthday and we can watch literally any horror movie! And it can be special, like, not something we've watched a thousand times already to the point we already know most of the lines." I glare before motioning for him to close his eyes.

Frank sighs grumpily, leaning his head back. "What are you planning on, then? Alien? Jaws?" He lets out a weird cry when I slap the side of his head lightly, though he is soon chuckling.

"And then you complain when I say how annoying you are!" I spread the dark eyeshadow over his eyes, humming. "It's been a while since we've watched The Howling, Evil Dead, House of Wax. I mean, 'm not gonna complain if we decide on Alien and Jaws either." He hums, pouting. "Don't worry, you're still my favorite old man." I press a kiss to his head.

"I hate you," he laughs.

After a little bit of fake blood and retouching on my makeup, the two of us are leaving Frank's house to go to school, waving his mother goodbye. We don't look like what most of the kids will go dressed up as – not putting enough effort nor choosing the same themes as the jocks and popular people and not invisible enough just to throw on whatever in a black theme. Frank looks like a chill vampire with Bela Lugosi's Dracula references, though still looking like a punk, while I decided on one of my favorite characters. Nothing too extra, but still in the vibe.

"You look ridiculous with that hair slicked back." I kick one of the pebbles on the sidewalk. "I prefer the hedgehog or whatever it is in the normal state."

"I honestly feel like I could kill someone just from biting their jugular off." He grins, throwing his nose in the air – I can't help but to chuckle; he's adorable. "But not gonna be anyone from school, they're not worth it neither their blood would taste good." He twists his mouth. "I feel like most I'd get would be booze, botox and steroids."

"Damn," I snort, "awfully accurate. You're gonna starve, sorry."

Frank pouts, looking down, but a smirk soon tugs on his lips as he takes a step closer. "But you're not that bad, baby, you know?"

"Oh, fuck off!" I roll my eyes, clicking my tongue. "You just want to get in my jugular!"

Both of us burst out in chuckles and our conversation eventually dies down when we walk past the gates to inside the school, replaced by jokes at other people's costumes, sometimes needing to hold onto each other from laughter.

We walk into the first class, already a bit late, but all it does is to attract everyone's attention the moment we step in.

"Ridiculous, as always," some girl mutters under her breath. Funny.

Frank wraps a hand around the length of the coat to stupidly bring it to cover the lower part of his face, looking around with narrowed eyes then wide ones. "I smell not just a lot of blood here," he says in a low and raspy voice, "but also stupidity!" He points at the girl judgingly, making her twist her mouth disgusted.

"I hope Freddy Krueger visits you tonight," I say when walking past her, patting her shoulder. A scream comes from her when noticing the fake blood stain I leave behind on her white outfit, having Frank and I chuckling on our way to the back.

No one really pays attention to the classes – it's Halloween, we're even in stupid clothes and anxious for whatever is going to happen later in the day, so the teacher doesn't even bother scolding Frank and I for talking nonstop in the back of the classroom. To be honest, I think only the goody two shoes are actually doing something, sometimes turning around to glare at the others.

"Okay, okay, shut up for a minute!" I tell Frank, taking a look at the messy words over my notebook to check if I forgot to write something down. "We've got The Howling, Alien, Evil Dead, House of Wax, Dawn of the Dead, Funhouse, Pumpkinhead..."

"Fright Night," Frank continues, "Opera, Cannibal Holocaust, Texas Chainsaw–"

"I said no TCM! Fuck you," I curse, rushing to write everything down, crossing out TCM when I accidentaly write it down.

"Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, Near Dark and Elm Street," he finishes, glaring at me. He hits my shoulder, not enough to hurt. "I'll make you watch TCM with me until you have memorized every single frame of it!"

"Your TCM phase will have died down by then!" I twist my mouth bitterly. "Sorry to kill the hype, baby!" I throw my nose in the air with a chuckle at his sulky manners. He furrows his eyebrows, sucking in a breath for words he never really gets to say. "And we still got to watch all these goth movies and shows lying around! Do you think it was easy finding the 60s Addams family show on DVD? Or that one Frankenstein version on cassette." Okay, the last one was easy to find in a yard sale, but still, it was just luck.

"Okay, mommy, please just don't punish me," Frank says with a groan and a fake moan. I stare at him as he's not able to contain his laughter before starting to hit him with the notebook.

"Too bad you're not a good boy, hun."

For once, school ends up actually being nice and just because Frank and I were getting in the character sometimes and pissing people off. By lunch, he had pulled on some sunglasses and looked like the stupidest fucker while eating his sandwich and smudging more of the lipstick and fake blood around his lips. At some point, we had pretended to have a fight and pierce the other's chest with a pair of scissors just to squeeze a bag of fake blood at whoever walked by – mostly some of the jocks or plastics. So much fun.

The house is quiet when we arrive back at it, a couple hours after school ended, and we find out, later, a note from Frank's mom apologizing she can't be here during the rest of his birthday, though she's sure he'll have fun with me.

"Imma take a shower," I sigh, pointing upstairs.

"Sure," he hums, looking up from the note for a moment to smile at me.

Thankfully, I always leave some clothes at Frank's place because I'm here far too often and not always have the chance or disposition to go back home and grab some clothes. It doesn't prevent me from stealing his hoodie, however, and walking out of the bathroom without all of that sticky makeup or fake blood is the best thing ever. Later, Frank is the one to go take a shower while I take care of the food he had already started to prepare.

"Much better!" I raise my eyebrows at the sight of Frank with his hair back to normal and only a bit of black makeup smudges the underside of his eyes now.

"Y'know, I never said a single thing about how you looked," he mutters with his brow low, coming to lean against the counter, next to me, "still, you've been attacking me every chance you got!"

"Does it offend you?" I smile.

"No, but it still hurts!" He sniffles, a hand flat against his chest. "I know I'm too badass for you to handle, but you don't need to let it be that clear!"

I look at him from head to foot. "I hate you, y'know that?"

"Love you too, hun!" He grins and moves closer, cupping my face exaggeratedly to peck my cheek before we head upstairs with everything we need.

We turn the lights on to organize everything, soon sitting down against a pile of pillows and with food surrounding us, though most of it is on the bedside tables since Frank, mainly, gets extremely uncomfortable with it falling on the bed. It doesn't matter, though, since the food and half empty cans end up going forgotten halfway through the movie at the same time the chatter dies down and we watch The Evil Dead as if it was the first time.

Some funny part comes on – well, not exactly funny, but enough to make us chuckle quietly – and brings us back to reality, sighing and glancing at each other, adjusting our postures as we'd slid down the pillows.

Frank yawns.

"Already tired?" I tease, poking his shoulder.

"No." He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Getting tired is for losers." He does glance at the clock on his bedside table, however, and the red glowing numbers say it's six something.

"You're my favorite loser, then." I smirk lightly, exhaling.

Frank's eyebrows knit together as he looks at me, but then rolls his eyes. "Well, duh, of course I am! Who else? I'm the best." He scoots closer until his head is leaning on my shoulder and I can't help but to smile.

"No, I am," I groan, arms wrapped around him.

"I am!" He glares and, at some point, we end up in a wrestling match, pushing each other around the mattress among laughter and curses, which comes to a stop when we start getting too tired and I just let Frank lie down on top of me, head on my chest, still watching the movie. "Do you like anyone, (y/n)?" he asks suddenly. "Like, got a crush?"

Random. Why does he want to know? I mean, I do have a crush, but telling him about it is difficult.

"Um, yeah, I guess, why?" I blink, startled when he suddenly brings himself up on his elbows to stare at me.

"I swear to God I'll hunt them down if you forget about me because of them, do you understand?" Frank presses his forehead to mine. "You're the only one I got, sometimes I'm so worried you'll even leave me for whatever reason."

"What?" I breathe a chuckle, though there's not exactly anything funny here. "Never in my right mind would I do that! And you can't hunt my crush down if my crush is actually you," I laugh in a sudden rush of confidence, which wears out awfully quickly, leaving me lying there and rethinking every life choice.

"Me?" Frank widens his eyes. At the lack of answer, he takes a hold of my collar, straddling my hips. "Did I hear it right? Please, (y/n), (n/n), soulmate? I'm your goddamn crush? For how long?"

I shake my head lightly, shrugging. "Months? A long time."

"And you just told me now?" He cries, forehead pressed to my shoulder. "Slow motherfucker."

"I didn't want you to leave me either, c'mon!" I sigh in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I remember that time a girl confessed to you and you'd simply vanish whenever she showed up. What if that was with me? I'd not be able to live like this, y'know that."

"Y'know, yeah, seeing it from that point..." Frank shrugs, bringing himself up to face me again. "Still, I wouldn't avoid you like that! Dunno, but it doesn't matter now because you just relieved me of months of suffering. Looking at these pretty lips without being able to kiss it." He furrows his eyebrows, eyes on my lips. "Can I kiss you, tho? Now that we feel stupid for all these months. Damn. At least I feel."

I breathe a chuckle. "Of course! Do you think I wasn't dying to do it either?"

Next thing I know are Frank's lips pressed against mine softly, soon growing firm with confidence. His fingers run along my neck lightly, in a caring manner, dropping to trace my collarbones.

"Also," Frank breathes, pulling away; his face never moves farther than a couple of inches whilst he adjusts his position, lying down beside me on the mattress. "Maybe it's wrong to say and I've always tried to say it in a subtle manner, but–" his eyes meet mine, "–you've got the body of a goddess! Like, dunno, sometimes you comment about not having an 'ideal', skinny body, but you're just so perfect," he groans, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Frank!" I tap on his back lightly. It's not that I don't like what he said – no, damn, it sends my heart fluttering, this warmth taking over my chest –, but is it really the truth? I didn't think it was possible for anyone to tell me this.

"No, I'm telling the truth!" Frank grins. "Like, your thighs and all. I just want to squeeze and bite you! Not in a bad way, I mean." I must give him a funny look because of how flustered he grows, tongue playing with his lip ring as he looks away. "There's a lot to unpack, fuck, I thought it was obvious how I always sit there gazing at you and shit, but..."

"Likewise." I glare playfully, making him chuckle.

"Y'know–" Frank smiles lazily, "–this is the best birthday I've ever had, by far." He brushes his lips against mine softly, watching me through half lidded eyes. "Never knew you'd actually like me back. Never believed it was possible, to be honest."

"I never cogitated you like me," I breathe.

"Well, okay," he says, "we've already gotten through this. I think we should focus on now."

"I'm not the one who keeps bringing back past thoughts!" I chuckle at how he pouts, scowling funnily.

"Shut up, shut up, I get it!" Frank rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine before I can say anything, having me smiling against the kiss until returning it, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Now that we've finally kissed, keeping our lips off each others' feels almost impossible – letting go of each other feels almost impossible. "God fucking damnit," he groans under his breathe, moving to press kisses down my jaw, soon reaching my neck.

A sigh escapes my lips at the kisses, though it turns into quiet pleased sounds at the feeling of his teeth pulling at my skin and sometimes closing around it, sucking on it whilst all I can bring myself to do is tugging onto his hair. Suddenly, however, feeling his hands traveling down to my hips and squeezing them makes me gasp, probably reacting a bit more than I intended.

"What?" Frank pulls away at the same moment, eyes wide. "Did I do something wrong? Please– Damn, I'm so sorry!"

"N-No, no," I finally bring myself into speaking up, feeling my cheeks burn bright red. "I, um, I actually... liked it. A lot. Sorry if I scared you, I just wasn't expecting it. I don't mind, really," I insist as he continues looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah!" I smile, bringing him for a quick kiss before he's trailing down my neck again.

Frank's hands go down my body, experimentally at first and then squeezing my hips again, receiving another reaction this time, including just a soft gasp as I push my hips up – a shiver runs down my spine with it, a nice one. Fuck.

"Damn..." Frank breathes, hands running down to my thighs then up again to slide under my shirt. "It's a bit early, maybe–" he shrugs, looking at me, "–but... is it okay if..."

Holy hell. "Of course," I say without thinking much – he continues to stare, so I nod.

"Fuck yeah," he mutters, lips against mine for a few seconds before he's pulling my shirt over my head and the expression on his face carries such admiration that I can't help but to feel embarrassed for a moment. He never lets me cover myself, nonetheless, hands flying to my waist to hold firmly onto it as he's pressing kisses from my stomach to my hip. "No, seriously–" he sits up again, "–how can someone be so perfect?" He seems to be talking mostly to himself, getting rid of his shirt.

"Dunno." I grin. "How does it feel to be so perfect, baby?"

Frank exhales shakily. "You'll be the death of me and I ain't even joking." He presses a kiss to my collarbone, starting to nibble down at the skin again, trailing down to my chest, lips sometimes lingering over my breasts – sure as hell he leaves a few marks behind, considering how invested he gets.

Something tells me he doesn't know what to focus on. His hands never stay in the same place for too long, going down my thighs then trailing up to my waistband, up my torso, and then he repeats it.

"C'mon," I mutter, placing his hands on my waistband. He's a bit hesitant, but quickly undoes the buttons and starts pulling it down – I help him, kicking the pants away in the end.

A string of curses slip past Frank's lips as he quickly gets rid of his jeans too and, when coming back, he kneels down between my legs this time, spreading them apart. Our lips are yet again locked in a kiss, different from the others, more heated up and urgent this time as we hold onto each other. I play with the hair on the back of his neck and tug onto it instead at the feeling of his hands around my ass, groping.

"Frank, damn," I breathe quietly for a second we pull apart and, opposite to earlier, he gets the hint and does it again, humming against my lips. Once he stops groping, his hands just run along my skin, up and down my body, sometimes lingering. The most lovesick look decorates his face when he pulls away. My heart.

I place my hands on Frank's shoulders as I sit up, changing our positions. He observes me with wide eyes and I smile at him before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving behind a hickey before I can go lower and lower until my fingers are around the waistband of his boxers and I pause, looking up at him, and continue after he nods.

Frank's already half hard, a breath hitching in his throat as, after discarding his boxers, I assume my previous position.

Even if it's not the first time I've done that, this nervousness still lies under my skin as I wrap a hand around him, pumping him lightly before wrapping my lips around the head experimentally. He breathes sharply.

Only halfway through it that I allow myself to look up at Frank, pausing for a moment after finding out he's been watching, propped up on his elbows, eyes focused on me and jaw slack, but I don't look away, hollowing my cheeks instead and watching him break under my gaze, letting go of all the tension for a second.

I repeat the motions a few times and pull away, licking up along the underside, around the tip, and he's suddenly pulling me away – eyes wide and face flushed this time.

Frank mumbles something I can't quite understand, but it doesn't really matter. He moves closer, both of us soon assuming the position we were in minutes ago, pressed against each other. Now, he removes my underwear and his hand slips between us, however.

Pleasure is sent ringing up my spine at the feeling of Frank's fingers slipping past my lips, quickly finding my clit and wasting no time on working his thumb on it while a couple of fingers tease my entrance. Moans just escape my throat easily after he breaks the kiss, mouthing his way until the inside of one of my thighs – he bites and sucks on the skin there. His tongue is suddenly there, then, against my clit, working around it before being replaced by his lips and my vision goes fucking blank when I can feel him sucking on it.

"Fuck," Frank curses once pulling away, moving to frantically rummage through the nightstand's drawer; I groan at the loss of touch, pushing my hips up into nothing.

Hearing the sound of foil being torn makes me understand what's happening, and I watch him rush to slip the condom on, giving us a moment to catch our breath before he's positioning himself, a hand on my hip whilst another holds himself up.

"Tell me if there's something wrong, okay?" he asks slowly, "I'll stop right away. Don't be afraid."

"Same to you," I say softly, cupping his face to pull him for a soft, quick kiss.

Frank smiles with a nod and looks down before I can feel him against my entrance, pushing in slowly. I wrap my arms around his shoulders tightly, feeling his chest vibrate against mine with the low moan coming from him, replaced by a sigh once he sinks in completely. He starts moving right away, hips jerking experimentally before attaining a heavy and slow pace which doesn't last long due to how needy we are already.

I gasp at how he thrusts in harder, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to hold him close and having my legs around his hips, instinctively.

Curses and praises are breathed into my ear among moans, somehow making the pleasure pool down in my lower stomach even more intensely, summed up to feeling his hands groping on my ass again, fingers sinking into the skin.

"You're just so perfect, (y/n)," he babbles, "and even better that now you're all mine."

Suppressing a louder moan turns out to be impossible at the feeling of Frank's hips reaching a certain angle and, soon, the answer I had in my slips away from my grasp and all there's left is just how good he feels. I travel a hand up to his hair, remembering how he reacted to it earlier, and tug on it in a form of response, though also wanting to hear how pathetically he moans at it.

"'M gonna cum," I manage to say before being cut off by a moan, arching my back.

"Me too, babe," he groans, "almost there."

Frank pauses, adjusting himself so a hand is under my thigh and another on the mattress for major support and his thrusts are suddenly harsher. I throw my head back at the same time, holding onto him tightly, and it doesn't take long for all the pleasure that had been building up so far to unravel at once – it apparently triggers the same on him, considering how tight his grasp gets whilst a higher pitched moan comes from him.

Coming down from the high, I feel almost numb, in a good way. Frank pulls away and I'm only aware of him when he's lying down next to me, both of us breathing heavily and unable to do anything aside from staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

"Damn, I love you so much, so much," he mumbles again.

I breathe a chuckle, feeling him cuddling up to me, arms wrapped around me. "And I love you, dumbass." I press a kiss to his head.

"My girlfriend now, right?" he asks. "Nevermind, you don't get to choose." He chuckles, though it quickly dies down. "Just kidding, okay? Tell me to and I'll fuck off."

I laugh, still breathless. "Of course I am. I didn't confess for nothing."

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #frank iero #mcr #mcr fanfic #mcr x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #female reader #n*fw #my post #my chemical romance #fluff #smut #imagine #oneshot #requested

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slasherbastard · 3 years

Note

OOH 26 & 36 AS WELL

ofc pick and choose any or none, whatever you like !!

I chose Thomas Hewitt for this one, it’s been a while since I’ve written something separately for him.

(gif credit: boodalinski)

You’re being kept as a “guest” for the Hewitt family

Word count: 914

Note: Also! This isn’t related to the story but this blog is nearly at 400 followers and I’m planning to announce something once I hit that goal.

Surviving the cannibals was hard but you managed even if it meant losing your friends along the way. A part of you wished they would've just taken your life as well but they had their reasons for keeping you alive - to accompany their son, Thomas (and if you disobeyed, you'd be dinner) - if only it were that easy. As Luda Mae boasted about her son while you and your friends were stuck at that gas station, you didn't know what to expect but he sounded so nice and you were stupid enough to accept her invitation and stay for dinner. Next thing you knew you were staring across a candlelit table into the eyes of a towering figure who seemed to want nothing to do with you.

Despite him seeming to hate you, the Hewitt's didn't want to give up and decided to keep you around and of course, Thomas wasn't thrilled at all. When he'd walk past you he made sure to aggressively bump into you or the chair you were sitting in and Luda Mae would just give you a sympathetic smile before getting up to go talk to her nephew and if the two of you had to work together he'd make sure you were doing more of the dirty work and if you did it wrong - since communicating with an uneducated mute is a little hard and also you aren't exactly qualified to do his work - he'd shove you off and do the work himself while grunting in annoyance.

'He's never had a partner before, so he doesn't really know how to handle his new emotions but please give my baby boy some time.' She'd reassure you but it felt useless. You knew that if he didn't accept you then you'd be dead and you also knew that Luda Mae was trying to convince him as well but it was going nowhere. Time after time after time you'd find yourself trying to do better but it was never enough for him, it made you wonder why he hadn't just killed you already.

A part of you suspected he had feelings for you but just didn't know how to show them like Luda Mae had told you but you weren't sure enough to start making assumptions - especially with the way he treated you, but that also could've just been him not being able to handle those feelings. Sigh, this wasn't going to be fun.

One afternoon you were helping Luda Mae wash dishes when she glanced at you. 'There's a platter in the fridge covered in foil. Can you take that down for Thomas?' You wanted to say no, of course, but you knew that wasn't an option so you nodded and found the platter and tried not to think about what was under the aluminium as you left the kitchen and descended to the basement where Thomas was working on a mask.

'Thomas?' He didn't answer but watched you through your reflection in the mirror. 'I'm sorry to bother you but I brought this.' You held up the platter and hoped he would at least turn around but instead he just went back to working. Your anger got the best of you and you threw the platter down onto a workbench. 'Dammit, Thomas! I don't know what to do.' Thomas flinched and dropped what he was holding and stood up, staring at you. 'I just- this isn't pretend. I like you and I can't-' You looked up at him mid sentence and noticed he was no longer staring at you but now at his hand that was slowly beginning to ooze blood.

You seemed to forget what you were saying as you ran over and took his hand and inspected it. 'Shit, did I do this? I'm so sorry.' You grabbed a rag off the bench and wiped it on your already dirty clothes and wrapped it around the wound. All this time he was watching you carefully and not moving or daring to make a sound as you fussed over what was barely a gash, it made him feel something. 'Do you have any first aid kits? Band aids? I swear if I end up as dinner over this I'm going to be so mad-' he laughed. Thomas laughed over your panicking and rambling and you looked up at him.

'What? Come on-' you laughed as well. '- maybe I'm just really bad at dealing with pain, but that would've made me cry.' Suddenly he pulled his hand away from you and for you felt your stomach drop until he rolled up his sleeve to reveal scars running up his arms just up to his elbow. You widened your eyes and went to touch one but then looked up at him as to ask for permission and he just closed his eyes and nodded. You reached forward once again and ran the tips of your fingers over them softly and felt every bump, taking bits of dirt and grime with you along the way.

You glanced up at Thomas and noticed his face was reddening. 'Are you blushing? I knew it, you are a softie.' And probably for the first time, he smiled under that leather mask of his and you returned the smile. 'Well, I'll let you get back to work, and sorry about the platter.' And with that, you exited the basement and found Luda Mae standing at the top of the stairs. 'I knew he'd like you.'

#slasher #writing #horror #texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #leatherface #fluff #a little bit of angst #thomas hewitt oneshot

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azucanela · 4 years

Note

Can i please have a headcanons for Keigo and Shinsou with a female s/o that really likes manga and anime but keeps it a secret from others because they talk shit and make fun of her? and like one day they accidently find out and she's kinda embarressed about it but they convince her that everything is fine and they think ist cute how happy they are when they talk about something she loves? Uwu :9 (sorry for my bad english)

secret anime and manga fan s/o headcannons [ft. keigo takami, shinsou hitoshi]

SUMMARY: Y/N has been hiding the fact that she likes anime and manga from her lovely boyfriend for a while now, fearing he’d find it weird. now, she has no choice but to address the fact that he knows.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: threats

A/N: your english is great bb! uwu owo this was relatable askdakjhds if anyone tells you there is something wrong with watching anime or reading manga, let me tell you that they are WRONG. i will fight them for you<3

KEIGO TAKAMI | PRO HERO HAWKS

you used to talk about animes you liked because at the end of the day they are tv shows thats it, same with mangas, they are like books but cooler lol

but people found that “weird” for some reason, because anime is a “cartoon” and thats so gross omg haha these “cartoons” make me sob um watch a silent voice and cry with me kids

anyways

you’re watching anime in the comfort of your home, just vibing. no one is coming over today, you have time to yourself to enjoy your lil show that nobody should be judging you for

well, you thought no one was coming over

keigo has a tendency to just like, show up at your house sometimes when hes bored or in the midst of an uneventful patrol. though he rarely is seen in public, especially on the streets, he does fly-bys constantly

anyways, he was bored, or just relieved of duty for whatever reason, like lunch. he is having chicken nuggets, he is a cannibal, be ashamed H A W K S, smh

anyways, he just shows up at your house, like he lowkey breaks in through the balcony of your apartment, but its fine because you leave it open for him, but normally he texts you to let you know he’s coming but today was the exception because he’s adorable and wanted to surprise!!! you!!! with!!! food!!!

so he comes in, and he sees you are on your couch, just watching your lil anime, and you are SO INTO IT MAN like you are lowkey yelling at the TV whenever a character does something, and when that one character you hate comes on you’re like throwing hands with nothing

keigo is internally screaming because why are you so CUTE

he kinda forgets for a second that you don’t know he’s there, he has no idea what’s going on in this show, and he’s still holding chicken nuggets and fries

this is why he just kinda screams at a character who does something stupid, that totally could’ve been avoided, effectively startling you

now you are both screaming for separate reasons as you turn around to look at him, and now you are panicking because oh no, he KNOWS

his wings are fluttering and he feels bad for scaring you as he comes up to wrap his arms around your shoulders, “sorry baby! but that guy is so dumb.”

you are MORTIFIED and now you’re like, “oh my god, you must think im so weird-”

keigo is confused, why would he think that? he genuinely doesn’t realize that people make fun of you for watching anime and he’s so confused by it when you inform him that a lot of people tend to find it weird

“what?”

“people think its weird so i just-” hahahhasdha keigo lowkey wants to take time out of his day in his professional agency to find out who told you it was weird and made you think you had to hide this from him because he wants to know everything about you! you are the love of his life! you shouldn’t feel the need to hide things!

now he feels like maybe he did something to make you think you had to hide your love for anime even though it is literally adorable to watch you

“baby, it’s not weird. i actually think its cute how angry you get at the characters. and i AGREE like how could he just do that-”

“wait you don’t care...?” you are BLUSHING because he thinks you are CUTE not that you didn’t know this already since he was dating you but like

omg

“of course not, also would you mind restarting this anime, im kind of invested- oh and i brought chicken nuggets”

you lowkey wanna cry he’s so cute

he can tell you don’t believe him so he sets the food down on a coffee table and takes your face in his hands and is all like, “baby. i promise you its fine. and adorable. now let’s restart this show so i can watch with you.”

he winks at you and now you’re like, “whatever no i am NOT restarting.”

then he gets all pouty but its fine he doesn’t need to understand the plot to watch with you and enjoy every moment, he also likes when you explain it really excitedly with all these hand movements, and he especially enjoys when you get mad at characters

he finds it hot

hates when you have a crush on a character he gets so jealous and is not afraid to show it kjahsdahsdsh mans will start hating the character just because you keep talking about how hot they are

“they’re just so BEAUTIFUL.”

keigo, self consciously touching his winds, “im beautiful too...”

he’s so cute

throws popcorn at the screen whenever that character comes on

SHINSOU HITOSHI

hahjsdgjasgdj

THIS BOY is so pretty

anyways you probably fell asleep reading manga, or watching anime or something like that, so it’s like 1AM and you were BINGING because that stuff is great and nobody is there to bother you while you read and watch and stuff its you time

and for some reason people have been opposed to this in the past? so now whenever people come to your room your manga are all like lowkey hidden and you make sure there is no evidence of anima

you did NOT want shinsou finding out and thinking you were weird or anything like that, even though liking anime and manga is NOT weird!!!

if anyone tells you other lmk and i will have strong words with them

so you fell asleep and shinsou comes over because he realizes he forgot something in your room, and like the GENTLEMAN he is, he knocks, but you are asleep and do not hear him!

he’s like eh worst case scenario she’s cheating on me and i end up heartbroken, and this is something he genuinely considers sometimes and he would definitely blame himself if he got cheated on

so he sees you sleeping and you are like a mess because you did not intend to fall asleep, so you’re like in your desk chair, the manga is wide open on your desk or your computer is on and there’s the still going anime aksjdhkjdhas

your neck is in a weird funky way that’ll probably hurt in the morning and shinsou is like oh no i gotta move her i dont want her in pain, he is also wondering why you look so cute because what the hell this is unfair stop it

tbh he probably barely notices the manga, like he’ll just nonchalantly close it and place it on your bedside table because reading manga isn’t weird before coming back to you, in the chair, and like picking you up to put you in bed

now you AWAKEN AND YOU ARE A L E R T because it hits you pretty fast that shinsou is here, this is NOT a dream, he probably saw your manga/anime, and now hates you and is carrying you to your death

this is all false

in the midst of your panic, you knock the both of you down onto the ground, and he’s feels so bad for allowing the two of you to fall nkjasdjakn poor bb

“Y/N im so sorry-”

“hitoshi why are you apologizing?”

he just ignores that and he comes over to you on the floor but your gaze is on the closed computer on your desk or the manga that was placed on your bedside table that you DEFINITELY DID NOT PUT THERE

he saw, he definitely saw, and now you are babbling about how weird he must think you are because of those JERKS who made you think anime and manga are weird

“what are you talking about?”

“well, people always told me how weird it was and sometimes they would... say things”

shinsou quickly realizes you were bullied because you liked manga and anime and stuff like that and now he is contemplating murder <3 what a lovely boyfriend

as someone who has experience with bullying himself, he finds this especially stupid, its literally just a show and book, and kinda wants to ask you the names of the people who told you these things so he can hunt them d o w n

instead shinsou prioritizes you and your insecurities first, “babe... no. its just anime? there’s no problem with watching it. whoever told you that was just a jerk.” jk he uses more colorful vocabulary

shinsou is completely ready to spend the next hour convincing you that there is nothing to worry about because there really isn’t

“so you don’t think its weird?” his heart almost breaks when he hears your voice and he just nods and gives you a lil smile

“not at all... actually i was wondering what was so interesting that you stayed up until” he’s looking at the time, “2AM.”

now you’re blushing but you still launch into an explanation of the entire anime and honestly anime/manga plots are so extensive and cool and well done and that just makes them so fun and complicated to explain

shinsou is trying his hardest to understand but you are very cute as you explain using lots of vivid hand gestures and adorable faces and wow he’s been distracted

will try his hardest to understand so that you can talk with him about it more often, genuinely finds it great watching you tell him about something you enjoy so much and hates that you felt the need to keep it a secret

he wonders how many times you hid away the manga or anime when he came over and feels like an inconvenience

anyways he really really really likes you so now he just listens as you rant about how cute certain characters are and lowkey gets jealous

“WHY IS HE SO HOT.”

“he’s not... that hot.” grumbling and stuff as he plays with the edge of his sleeve and borderline glares at the screen.

A/N: i hope this wasn’t bad akshfjakshdkjh

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo headcannons #shinsou headcannons #shinso headcannons #hawks x reader #hawks x you #shinsou x you #keigo x you #shinso x you

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beerecordings · 3 years

Text

Okay, here is part three of the latest Marvin's Cage story. Find the whole story so far here Let me know if you enjoy! Thanks for reading. Tws for mentions of possible cannibalism, mentions of past torture, panic attacks, and imprionsment . Light through the side of his box. “Marvin, Marvin,” he mouths, soundless, tears in his eyes. “Brother, brother.” Marvin does not come. “Jameson,” the soft voice is calling. “JJ. We won't hurt you, I promise."

No. This is not right, not right! This has never happened! He clutches at his hair and bites down on the collar of his shirt, tears racing down his face. They need to go away! They're not supposed to be here! They're not supposed to know! Marvin will be so, so, so angry! He can't do it again, can't go back to being alone alone alone alone. His skin so untouched it hurts, so he scratches at it, at his lonely skin, his lonely bones. Marvin will not touch him hold him call him little brother. He can't go back. Makes his brain so numb and then so crazy. Can't can't can't. “Jamie, breathe, Jamie – ” “Give him space, dude! He's scared of us. Jameson... just... he's really just – ” “Marvin did this to him!” He flinches at the loudness of the voice, biting his collar til he feels thread tear. No, no, no. This is Marvin's worst nightmare. His brothers know about him, and they're angry at Marvin. Angry at Marvin who was just protecting all of them, who takes care of him and loves him. This can't be happening. They need to understand. How does he make them understand? How does he even try to explain when his heart is beating so hard it hurts all the way up to his throat and he can't stop crying? This is why you can never fight Anti off, sneer an old pair of hands in his head. You're the most pathetic little creature ever to walk across the earth. Of course Marvin locked us away. Him and Anti are both right. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he signs desperately. “Brother, brother, M! Please! I want M!” “It's been so fucking long since I took that BSL course. I'm the worst brother.” “Don't start, Jackie, shit. I don't think I ever bothered trying to learn for more than, like, two Youtube videos. Schneep would know. He learned it in about three days and he doesn't forget things.” “Brother – that was brother, I remember! Yeah, JJ, we're your brothers, dude. I mean, if you want us to be. Can you just – please, breathe.” No, they don't understand. These are not JJ's brothers. These are Marvin's brothers. It's a term of endearment more than anything technical: the relationship does not transfer. Marvin always made that very clear and JJ understands. Chase and Schneep and Jackie are not dangerous like he is. Chase and Schneep and Jackie do not have to live in cages, and they get to come find Marvin whenever they want, and they can have things like their own money and lots of friends. They can walk around the city at their leisure. See the sky. Have jobs. Walk around stores and talk to girls and make friends. They pick out their own food and books and toys. They're nice people who have never killed anyone or stabbed each other or made Marvin so upset that he burned their faces on accident and left them alone for days at a time. Schneep is even a doctor who saves lives, and Jackie is a real-life superhero, and Chase has babies who love him. Of course Marvin had to keep them safe from JJ. He's just grateful that Marvin never listened to him when he would beg to get out. Marvin even took care of him when he could have so easily left him to rot like he deserves. “JJ, JJ, please. You can trust us. Didn't you say you remembered me? Please, please, I'm begging you – come here.” Yes, of course he remembers Jackie – remembers the warm voice trying to calm him for hours, and the gloved hand in his own, and the presence watching over him as he drifted close to sleep, the safe and loving presence. How could he forget it? Some days, it is all he thinks about. But it's not something he can have. No, he won't come out. He won't risk making Marvin angry, and he certainly won't let Marvin's brothers get hurt because of him. He will stay here alone like he has to. He is a good boy like Anti told him, like Marvin told him. He is good and he is not hurting anyone ever again. He is staying right here. “Fine, I'll go to him,” comes a vehement voice, and then someone is pushing at the broken wood around his door. Jameson sucks in a wheezing scream and darts behind the curtain over his little bathroom, shoving himself between the wall and the toilet

and squeezing himself into as tight a ball as he can manage around his little stuffed dog, the first present Marvin ever brought him. Jackie can't come in here – neither of them can! Anti will kill them! “Jackie, he's freaking out, stop, stop!” There's a low howl of frustration, but no one comes any closer. His box falls quiet again with nothing but soft murmuring from Marvin's brothers as JJ sobs, biting at deep scars in his palms, the result of being possessed on repeat by a demon with a passionate love of any kind of blade. His hands raise the knife – no hilt. The blade goes down, goes into his palms, goes down, goes into his palms. Goes into her chest. He can hear her screaming. Can hear himself laughing. There's blood in his mouth that isn't his. His birds are already picking at her as she suffocates around the silver of the knife. The bugs are creeping onto her flesh and crawling up his shirt. No, no, no! If Marvin would come – if Marvin would quiet the memories like he always does – But Marvin does not come. Marvin does not come find him. Alone, alone, alone. “JJ, JJ,” they are calling to him, begging at him, but this is not something he can let himself have. He'd rather die right here. No, no, no, no. He is not going anywhere. Ever. His little stuffed dog is licking at his face. He closes his eyes and rubs its fur til the panic fades. His good dog, good boy. He drifts in his head. He's playing with his dog in the yard. Marvin is on the porch reading. The sun is warm. His dog licks his face. He is staying right here... everything is okay... there you go, JJ. There you go. There's a good little brother. You know how much I hate to see you cry. Cut it out, okay? I don't want to hear that anymore. Be good and I'll come back tomorrow. Be good and stay right here. Yeah, he's good. He's good. And when he's good, Marvin comes back again. Marvin will come back. . The soft scrape of cardboard on wood wakes him. He sits in the darkness behind his privacy curtain. Things are quiet again. “I wish he would just...” “I know. But you can't stay here all day.” “Well, neither can he!” “Shhh, keep your voice low. He obviously does, I mean...” The voices devolve back into incomprehensibility, too soft for him to understand. He wipes at his ruddy, weary face and sniffs, curled up against the side of the toilet. He's a little germ freak, as Marvin says, but he doesn't have to worry. He cleans everything every morning so Marvin will not think he's messy. The decorations are always dusted and straightened. He wipes the toilet and his little mirror down, and the sink too, so it's clean when Marvin comes in to shave him on Wednesdays. He isn't allowed to have a razor in here – Anti will try to cut him up again – but Marvin takes care of him anyway. The bathroom smells like their shaving cream and the lemon scent of his cleaners, stacked neatly on the shelves in his back-left corner next to his laundry: Marvin's clothes and some old t-shirts and sweatpants. He isn't allowed to wear anything that isn't Marvin's. Marvin has to be the one to put it through the wash, and if his brothers saw it, they would ask why he was washing things that did not belong to anyone in the house. JJ lets out a tired sigh, a little soothed by the quiet and the reminiscing. Marvin takes care of him. Still, he wants to know what that sound was. When Jackie and Chase's distant voices stay distant, he squeezes his dog for courage and creeps out from behind the curtain, blinking at the light of his sun lamp. The leaves of his plants and the lead in the drawings on the walls gleams quietly in the yellow glow. His place, his things, his presents from Marvin and pictures of Marvin and his shared space with Marvin. Maybe when he comes to see him, they can lie down on the mattress and have a nap, or play some games, or watch pictures on Marvin's magic screen together. Yeah, he feels better. Yeah, there's my tough guy. Stop crying, JJ, I mean it. He gets to his feet and sneaks over to the sill of his box where Marvin sometimes leaves him

things. There's a little pad of paper on his shelf, the sort of book you might use to make grocery lists or notes to pin up on the fridge. He pulls it towards himself, looking right and left for one of Marvin's brothers to leap out at him, but nothing happens. Hi, JJ,reads the first page, in messy, crooked handwriting. My name's Chase (I'm the one in the grey shirt) and Jackie is the one in the red hoodie. He doesn't know what a hoodie is. He glances down the way Marvin usually comes from and can still hear them talking. I'm sorry if we scared you. We're still figuring out what's going on. You don't have to get close to us if you don't want to (but I promise we won't hurt you if you do). I thought it would be easier for you to have a pen and some paper. Is there anything you need? Or anything we can do to show you we are on your side? Do you remember us? I also left some food by your door. It's perfectly safe, I promise. I will eat some with you if you want. Please don't be scared. We aren't with Marvin right now, or Anti. We are not going to let anyone hurt you. If there is anything we can do to help please tell us. I hope you do remember us a little bit. If you don't, though, we want to say hi! Maybe you can write me back? The paper is all for you. - Chase There are some smiley faces and even a little drawing of the plate of food on the paper. JJ glances over at his door. A dish with rice and meat is tucked on the plate alongside fat slices of oranges, a neat line of bright green cucumbers with ranch drizzled on, and a big sweet-looking roll with pecans. His mouth waters. He listens for Marvin's brothers one more time, and when they're still far away, he steps over to pick up the plate and brings it back to his mattress, sitting down and eating with relish. It's hot and fresh and home-made, better than he remembers food tasting. Most of the stuff he gets is take-out from a restaurant or leftovers. Not that he minds! It's just a lot of tasty food. He's eating faster than he means to, scooping the rice up with his plastic silverware and tearing the soft bread of the roll between his teeth. Meat between his teeth – hot flesh, red blood – Anti's smile is crimson and beaming, his own eyes are wild with delight – cannibal – No, no. He hugs himself for a few minutes and goes through the breathing exercises Marvin taught him. He's okay. He does not eat all the beef, but he eats everything else, scooping up the leftover ranch with his spoon and licking his fingers clean of the orange juice and sticky frosting from the roll. His stomach hurts with how full he is. It's a good feeling. “Jameson?” He jerks upright, pupils blown. A figure leaps back from his window. “Sorry! I just – I was just checking if you wrote me back or – sorry, I'll give you some space...” He backs away again. Jameson grabs at his chest, shuddering. Sudden voices in his box only ever mean Anti until today. And Anti – Anti hurts him. Even when they're playing. He doesn't think Anti ever learned how not to hurt someone. He thinks that's why he plays like that – testing his limits. Interested in human suffering as a primary characteristic. He plays with the edge of Chase's note, trying to think. He hasn't talked to anyone but Anti and Marvin in so long. What would Anti say? Pet, look, he's almost as pretty a present as you were. Oooh, but already a scar in his head. Who wants a scar on him I did not put there? Hm. Still pretty though. He looks like my master. Tell him to come over here and snuggle with us, Jameson. I will wrap my hands around his throat and see if he chokes the same way Jack does. Jameson chews on the end of his pencil, sighing. They need to stay away. What would Marvin say? Who, Chase? He's my baby brother. I guess I was always pretty attached to him. I was all jealous when Jack added Schneep, and I do snap at Jackie a little when he ticks me off. Chase, though, he's my – he's my little brother, you know? He's a special person. Well, anyway, it was him you stabbed the night I had to lock you up. Within about five

minutes of finding you, you stabbed one of us. I started to imagine what would happen if we just let you roam free and... you get it, right? Why I had to? Yes. Of course he does. This is what he needs to express. He clears his throat and sets his pencil shakily to paper. Dear Chase, Thank you for my dinner. It was very tasty. You are a good cook. I do remember a little of that night you all found me, but not much. I was rather unwell. I am dearly sorry for stabbing you and I hope your shoulder has healed well. I should not like to stab you again, but I do not always have a choice. Unfortunately, despite Marvin's best efforts to find a way to help, I still fall victim to possession against my will. Please leave me alone so I do not stab you or your brothers. If you will get Marvin for me he will know how to fix the box. I am not bothered by your presence but the thought of what might happen to you is very alarming. It would be in the best interest of you and your family to kindly exit this place and leave me to my own devices. There is no need to be concerned about anyone hurting me, though I appreciate your worry on my behalf. Thank you for your time and understanding, and, again, for the food. Sincerely, Jameson Jackson There. That's okay, isn't it? Maybe? P.S. I would like to see Marvin very much. Is he all right? Thank you. Okay, there. Then he will not have to wonder. Hopefully everything's okay and Chase can go bring Marvin for him. Then things will go back to normal. Things will go back to... To normal. Normal is good. Normal is... His box is quiet. The light gleams on the leaves and the lead. There are scratchmarks in the wood where he has tried to claw his way out during breakdowns. He closes his eyes. Things will go back to normal. He can never leave. He lets himself drift off in his mind again, walking in circles around his box with his eyes closed. He's on a beach with his dog and a big family... little kids come running up to him and he picks them up and plays with them in the ocean, yanking them back from the waves or ducking them under the water while they shriek in delight. The sun is so warm and the sand is hot between his toes. Marvin is suntanning on the beach while Chase and Jackie play in the sand beside him, and everyone is laughing. His box is dead quiet. Not even the wind to keep him company. Alone, alone, alone. . “I'll kill him, I'll kill him.” “Jackie. Breathing.” “I'll – oh, he – I'll tear him to pieces, look at this, he – I'll kill him, I'll destroy him, how could he...?” “Jackie. Jackie.” Chase is so tired he doesn't even get to his feet to try and calm Jackie down. He's slumped across the couch of the living room with Queenie on his stomach, kneading her claws into his t-shirt and purring. Her belly's all swollen with kittens, but instead of becoming more reclusive like a normal cat mother, she has decided she wants to be on top of someone twenty-four hours a day. Chase scratches her ears and sighs. “How could he do this?” groans Jackie, for perhaps the hundredth time today. Chase still doesn't have an answer. Jackie is clutching JJ's note in his hands tightly enough that he's definitely torn a hole or two in it. “He made him think he has to be – he has to be in this box. He – he won't come out to me. He won't come out to me.” Chase reaches for Jackie's jacket, catching his sleeve, and tugs his brother down onto the couch beside him. “Jackie. This note – it could be good news.” Jackie looks at him like he's finally lost it. “Hear me out! I know it's... not great that he seems to think he really does have to stay in there. But Jackie, look, he's not scared of Marvin! What if we jumped to conclusions about how this went down?” “He locked my little brother in a box,” says Jackie flatly. “But what if JJ asked him to do that?” Jackie blinks and looks down at the smudged note. “He... does seem to think he's dangerous.” “And, well, he is, isn't he?” “Don't say that.” “Jackie, it's just facts. Er, not JJ, I mean. Anti is the dangerous one, but he uses the

little man like a weapon. That's not his fault, but it's the truth. He did stab me that night.” “Anti stabbed you!” “Yes. But he used JJ's hands. Jackie, is it so wild to think that maybe JJ was just so scared by the things Anti has made him do that he actually asked Marvin to help him protect us from him?” Jackie's eyes water. He shakes his head. Chase sighs and touches his brother's shoulder. “It still wasn't right of Marvin to do what he did. He definitely should have talked to all of us about it and not left us thinking something terrible had happened to him. But if JJ really came to you and begged you to keep him away from us – well, maybe, as a temporary solution, you might take him somewhere safe and secluded, and take care of him yourself, right? Maybe not a little locked box, but... somewhere. It's not – Jackie, it's not unthinkable.” Jackie just shakes his head, staring down at that note. “What's wrong?” asks Chase softly. “Wanted to make him feel safe,” croaks Jackie. “I should have – if I had made him feel safe, he wouldn't have thought he needed to be locked away. And Marvin – yeah, should have told me. Even if JJ did beg. My baby brother.” After a long day, the tears are finally coming dripping down Jackie's face. “I know, man,” whispers Chase. Jackie falls against his shoulder. Chase wraps his arm around him. Queenie nudges her way into their laps and sits contentedly down, purring like a little motorboat. “Maybe JJ and Marvin really were just working together to protect us,” mumbles Jackie. “Maybe he did take good care of him. If he had told us, maybe it is... thinkable.” “I shouldn't have told Marvin we weren't brothers anymore.” Chase rubs at his face. “I was too quick to think it was the worst scenario.” “No, it's not your fault,” replies Jackie softly. “It's his for not telling us, so it really did look like the worst scenario – and my fault, for exploding on him instead of listening. I should have been calmer.” “I honestly think you were surprisingly restrained for the situation,” says Chase, a little amused. “If it were true that he just locked JJ up against you will, you oughta have kicked his ass.” Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. I guess. I don't know, though. There's just... there's something really off about that box. The kids' toys and the – I don't know. I get a really bad feeling. It's hard to describe.” Chase hums and nods. “Well, what we need to do is talk to JJ more, right?” Jackie perks up, glancing over at him. “Right. Figure all this out.” Chase smiles at him. The weight on his chest is so much lighter than it was a few hours ago. This – this makes so much more sense than what they thought before. Of course it was unimaginable that Marvin would lock JJ up like a prisoner against his will and abandon him in there, unloved. What he did was still wrong, but this alternative is so much lighter than that one. Maybe they can still fix this. Marvin could come back with Schneep, and once they were all on the same page Marvin would apologize for leaving them out of the loop. Together, they'll all be able to find a better way to keep JJ safe from Anti. Then they can all be together like they're supposed to be. Yeah. He can see it now. Marvin and Schneep will come back home, and JJ will come out of the box, and everything will be wonderful. Just a few hours ago, that seemed so impossible. “You're crying again,” says Jackie, touching his face. “Chase?” “No, it's okay,” chuckles Chase, wiping at his face. Happy tears. He's so relieved it hurts in his chest. For a few hours there, he really thought Marvin might have done something that cruel. But not his brother. Not his Marvin. No wonder it didn't make sense. It wasn't true. He should have known Schneep was right. Schneep is always right. Chase chuckles, shaking his head. “Just a rollercoaster day, that's all.” “No fucking kidding. I'm going to go write back to JJ. Do you want to come with?” “No, no, I think I'll get started on dinner.” Chase has already moved on to their reunion meal in his head. He'll cook

something Marvin loves and make JJ so much good food they can't even eat it all. Bread, ice cream, pasta, casserole... there's so many options. Maybe he'll just make everything. His heart is light again. It's going to be okay. “Okay, then,” says Jackie, heading back towards the mirror. “I'll be in there with him if you need me.” “Got it,” Chase replies, getting up to head to the kitchen. “Oh, um – Chase?” “Yeah?” He turns back towards his brother. Jackie smiles at him in the evening light. “I'm really glad you're here.” Chase smiles back. “Me too,” he says.

Things are going to be different. But surely, surely - they have to turn out okay. Just this once.

. Dear JJ, I don't really know how to right to you. This is Jackie. I'm glad you remember me a little. I'm your older brother. You don't want to come out of the box? When did that start? Was it your idea to be locked up like that? I guess I can see how you would think you could be dangerous. Trust me, I've encounterred Anti enough times to get it but if you give me a chance I promise I will keep you safe. JJ there has to be a better way then you being locked up like that! I don't even care if you and Marvin thought it was a good idea it's terrible. You do not have to be a prisoner you are my brother. I really want you to come stay with me. What can I do to get you out of there? I will do anything to make you feel safe, JJ. I promise I will keep you safe. Marvin is okay. He's just staying at another house right now. He knows I am talking to you. I'm worried about how he might have treated you, can we talk some more before you talk to him? Tell me about how he treats you. I want you to be able to make your own choice. Don't worry about him, okay? Who decided you should be in that box? I want you to be here with me. I really want you to be here with me and I promise I will keep you safe. Maybe we can talk face-to-face? Even though I'm bad at sign languge. I have wanted to see you for a really long time. I love you. I don't care if you hid from me or if Anti has used you, that doesn't matter now, none of us ever blamed you for Chase's shoulder. I've been looking for you, JJ. I've been looking for you this whole time. I thought about you every day. I would have looked forever if I had to. Every day of my life. If you think you have to stay in that box, please tell me why. I need to understand. I won't lose you again. You won't lose me too. I'm your big brother and I really want you to be here. I promise I will keep you safe. JB . Dear Jackie, Please, just go. You weren't supposed to know. I will be in trouble and I will hurt you. It is my fault. I'm not like you. I can't fight Anti. I'm not what you think I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you looked. He said maybe he would tell you I was dead, but he knew you would not stop looking unless there was a body, so he couldn't even though he wanted to. He loves you. He didn't want you to be in pain. But he didn't know how to stop it either. He cried over it so much. Maybe now that you know, you won't have to worry about me anymore, and you and Marvin can be happy again. I'm happy here. Marvin has taken such good care of me. He treats me very well. Please go home to your brothers and don't think about me. I'm sorry I made you all so sad for so long. Sincerely, JJ There are patches of wetness on the pages. . JJ, who decided you should be in that box? Tell me. . This time, there is no answer. Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from the corner of the cage, and all he wants is to go in there with him. But when he moves forward, JJ flinches and flees back to the bathroom, and all Jackie can do is sink down beside the cage, hold his head in his hands, and try not to think about the words he wanted to tell you I was dead. . Chase: Schneep you ok Schneep: Yeah. We're at Stacy's Chase: Did you tell her Schneep: Kind of. Still not sure really what happened Chase: Us either dude. Marvin say anything more? It sounds like maybe he and JJ both decided he should be locked up or whatever Schneep: He is all freaked out still. I gave him something to calm him down and he fell asleep. I am worried though. He insists the Jameson must be kept in the box. I think Anti is pulling strings Chase: I don't have any idea what's happening at this point Schneep: How is he? Chase: Very shy. Scared of us. He also thinks he has to stay in the box Schneep: Healthy? Chase: He kind of hides. Won't let us in to see him Schneep: I come by tomorrow and check on him Chase: Ok, sounds good. Tell me if anything changes? Schneep: Yes I will Chase: And say hi to the kids for me. Maybe not a good idea for me to have them this weekend after all Schneep: No worries. We will figure everything

out, my friend. Take care of JJ for me Chase: You take care of Marvin. I think it's going to turn out alright. Schneep: Yes, it will. See you tomorrow, love you Chase: Love you . There's blood in his mouth. JJ circles his cage, using a rag to clean the walls and wipe down the boxes and sink. When it's clean, he sits down again, reaching for his violin. There's blood in his mouth. He gets up again and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. He sits down and rubs at his face, exhausted. There's blood in his mouth. No. The box is clean. He's not going to clean it again. There's blood in his throat. He covers his face in his hands. Stop imagining it, JJ. Distract yourself. His dog licking at his face, warm sand between his toes, Marvin is holding him – Blood in his throat. In his teeth. He picks flesh out from between his molars. Copper tang against his tongue. He feels the weight of the blood settle in his stomach. He bites into flesh. Jameson. I am not going to listen to this story again. That's fucked. Anti isn't here. Stop crying, okay? The corpse is going cold beneath his fingers. Anti is laughing. The blade swirls around in his hands. He is torn between hoping Anti will stop possessing him so he can have even a minute alone in his own head and praying that Anti never leaves again, because when he does, that is when JJ becomes the victim of his curiosity. There's blood in his mouth. JJ gets up and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. “Jameson,” murmurs Jackie. “Are you okay?” He's standing just outside the box, looking at him. JJ avoids his gaze, scrubbing the clean right wall with vigor. Jackie doesn't seem to want to hurt him. He supposes that makes sense. It's not Jackie JJ should worry about – it's what Anti might do to Jackie that's concerning. He wishes Marvin's big brother would leave. “Can you show me your stuffed animals?” asks Jackie. “Or your puppets? Why do you have all those?” JJ pauses, chewing on his nails as he glance at his animals, arranged neatly on his mattress. The finger puppets are in their box by the barred window. They're just for fun. For distraction. He knows each of them intimately. All the puppets have names and families and jobs and aspirations. All the animals have their own place in the world in his head. It's just a game. It's just a game he plays for hours at a time. He tells the same stories on repeat. The important part is that he knows they're not real people right now. Marvin was so relieved. There's blood in his mouth. He circles his cage. Cleans the walls and boxes and sink. It's already clean. He knows it's already clean. “Do you play the violin?” JJ pauses again, eyes flickering over to Jackie. Yes, he does. For hours a day. “Would you show me?” asks Jackie gently. JJ hovers. He's not sure he should. But he never gets to show anyone except Marvin and the toys. It would be nice. He never got to show anyone Marvin's birthday song. It's not going to hurt Jackie. It's just his music. He picks the violin tentatively up. Sets it back down again. Jackie is looking at him uncertainly from the window, smiling a faint, confused smile. Fuck's sake, he's – he's weird, isn't he? Not Jackie – JJ. He turns away from Marvin's brother, biting at his nails again. It's been so long since he interacted with anyone other than Marvin and Anti. What must he look like to Jackie? He's treating him like he's so fragile. Maybe he is. But this is how he lives. This is how he has to live. He used to fight. Does Jackie know that? Does Jackie know that there were days that he would come out of possession kicking and striking at Anti, spitting at him and writhing before Anti could stuff him back into whatever hiding place he had found to contain him? Does Jackie know that JJ used to curse at Marvin and demand to be let go? That he eventually crumpled beneath the isolation and the monotony and just collapsed in on himself, sitting mindless for days at a time no matter how much Marvin begged at him to

get up? Does Jackie know that he hates this? There are tears dripping onto the violin set beneath his chin. He can't think like this. This is where he has to stay. He can't go. He can't leave. There is blood in his mouth. This is what he has to do. He can't tell on Marvin, can't tell Jackie that Marvin dragged him into this box and locked him up while he cried. This is what he deserves because he's done so many bad things and he will do so many more if he is released. Oh, there is blood in his mouth. He can't get out. He has to be a good boy – he has to stay – he has to – “Major freak-out,” he signs to himself. This is what Marvin calls a major freak-out. Yeah. Okay. “Have to stay calm, JJ, you can't come out of your cage. “Come hold me, Marvin, please! “If you calm down I'll come in there. Okay? “Please can I come out just for a few minutes? Oh, God, I want to see a priest. Are you going to keep me here my whole life? I'll die here! I'm going to die here? I can't take it anymore! I can't take it! Oh, God, I want to see the sky, I want to hear birds, oh, God, our father, who art in Heaven – “JJ, be good. Penguin, stop that. You know you can't come out. So be calm. I'm working on finding a solution. “But you never do, you never do!” “JJ.” And now the voice does not sound like Marvin's. JJ isn't sure why. He keeps signing to himself, circling his cage, chewing on his collar. He talks to Marvin. Marvin isn't there, but he knows what he will say. Yes, Marvin is here. They're talking and hugging each other, yes, Marvin is making it better. Marvin isn't here. “Jameson, hey. Jamie, can you look at me? Jamie, can I come in there with you?” Yes, yes, he wants that! He hates to be alone for freak-outs. They last hours and sometimes he slams his head against the wall so hard the light hurts his eyes for days. Sometimes he scratches at the wood til his nails split. Sometimes he clings to Anti and begs him to take him away from this place, because even the torture and the killing would be better than sitting in this same – fucking – spot – for the rest of his miserable existence. He hates to be alone. Alone, alone, alone. “Please, please,” he begs. “Please, please.” “Okay, I'm coming, Jamie, I'm coming.” Marvin doesn't call him Jamie, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later, there are arms around him. There's no torture quite like the touch-starvation, and JJ is someone who knows torture. When Marvin started touching him and hugging him and sitting with him, it changed everything. And the most wonderful part about it is how those months of his skin crawling and his brain going numb and foggy with a bizarre and visceral sort of insanity as he rubbed at his own skin and rocked and day-dreamed about being touched til he could hallucinate it – they all just fade into the background when someone puts their arms around him. He latches on like a cat in a tree. Octopuses himself around their body. And in return – joy of joy, he is being squeezed back, squished against their body and rocked. He is scooped all the way off his feet, making him giggle. He buries his head in their shoulder and shakes, pressed so tightly together it's a little hard to breathe. “My little brother, my little brother,” someone is singing. “My JJ. Here you are. I have you back again, I have you.” He's grabbed by the waist and spun in a circle before he's drawn back to their chest. He laughs weakly and hears them laughing back. “Here you are. Chase was right. This is all that matters. You are everything that matters.” Kisses along the side of his head. Hands on his back and cupping his head. He's rocked back and forth, back and forth. Steady and strong. Gloved hands. A red hood. The smell of rain and sweat and coconut on the jacket. And that feeling – that feeling of safety... Yeah. He remembers. How could he forget? When this was what he dreamed about for so long? Jackie is holding him. His awareness comes back to him in pieces as he comes down from the second or third panic attack of the day. Jackie has crashed down onto the

mattress with him. He's being held like a little kid, but Jackie doesn't seem bothered by his weight or his neediness. Jackie just clings to him. Clings to him as tight as he's clinging to Jackie. JJ cries quietly as he comes back to himself. Jackie wipes at his face and hums to him, nonsense music in the air. “My JJ, my JJ.” He doesn't seem bothered by the crying either. “I missed you, JJ.” His voice breaks. Jackie coughs and kisses the side of his head one more time, his voice fading away. “Have to go,” signs JJ, crying into his chest. “Have to go, before he hurts you!” “I'm so sorry, James, I never really got to practice with the sign language, I should have worked harder...” “Go, go!” He points to the door. “Go away!” Jackie shakes his head at him. JJ should push him away, but he just – he just can't. Marvin will kill him for this. Anti will kill Jackie for this! “Nothing's going to hurt you anymore,” whispers Jackie. “Never, you're never leaving my sight again. I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again.” And he wants it to be true so badly it hurts. He just clings to Jackie, shaking. “Oh! He let you get in there with him!” A new voice in the expanse of the mirrors. JJ feels Jackie nod. “Do you guys... do you want some space?” “Yeah, please,” whispers Jackie. “Maybe he'll let you come in too in a minute, but if we could just... just get a minute...” “Just text me if you need anything.” And it's just him and Jackie in the quiet of his box again. “Nothing matters but this,” sings Jackie, brushing at his hair. “My baby brother. I love you.” Love, love, love. He closes his eyes and holds to Jackie, and just for one moment of weakness, he lets himself have this.

#marvin's cage

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2lim3rz · 2 years

Note

For the ask meme, how about one of your OCs? :3c

SOB DUDE I HAVE SO M ANY

So I'll do my top 4:

99-NOVEM:

REALISTIC: 99 can use her axe like a QUEEN however she is never trusted with thrown objects due to multiple incidents where she has misthrown flashbangs and grenades

HILARIOUS [NOT REALISTIC]: There's been a couple times where 99 had to go to the medicae for broken ribs or multiple cuts on the sheer fact that maybe it's not a good idea to play with the few hundred pound cyborg metal dog she has Magnets are also her biggest enemy [and her squad likes to throw them at the metal plates on her back]

HEART CRUSHING: 99 still has nightmares of the time her CyberMastiff, Good Boy, blew up since she was currently locked into his POV. Not fun. Along with certainly suffering from ptsd due to multiple psyker-induced mental breakdowns

UNREALISTIC BUT FUCK CANON: There are multiple times where her bolt gun has exploded in her hands. Guns in general; she's kinda cu r sed

ZEKARVOS:

REALISTIC: Zekarvos, like many World Eaters, is very up front in a fight. However, this also goes into his day-to-day life. This is to say that he's not gonna try to stab you in the back or try any sneaky plans

HILARIOUS: Zekarvos has glowing yellow eyes that can shift to copper. No one really knows when or how he's had this mutation, however he has [on multiple times] used it to see things up close in the dark. They're pretty bright and did I mention they flash if he's startled?

HEART CRUSHING: Zekarvos is admittedly tired of the perpetual fighting. Being in a Chaos Warband isn't the most comforting of things and he admittedly targets more desert and warm planets, not to raid or anything, but to sit and just chill a moment to enjoy their warmth

UNREALISTIC, FUCK CANON THO: Zek's a poet. A good one, however no one could guess this because he's also the most crass, brutally honest, and possibly horny Ex-World Eater to exist

ELSEWHERE [Fallout; New Vegas]:

REALISTIC: Elsewhere can barely count above 10 and she's p re tty illiterate and tends to use words wrong. no one said being raised with various bands of raiders and possible cannibals was healthy for a growin kid

HILARIOUS: Has, can, and will annoy everyone but deliberately mispronouncing words. Even her own name. She has no me r cy

HEART CRUSHING: Elsewhere is smart! Well, survival smart. She can track even the most obscure trail sometimes. However, she feels that because she can't really count, read, or write, that she's very stupid and tends to make jokes about it to hide her hurt feelings

UNREALISTIC, FUCK CANON THO: Elsewhere has 1v1 supermutants and won multiple times

TOMLIN PAYUL:

REALISTIC: Tomlin is a very skilled speaker. If he ever had to, he could probably convince a whole planet to side with him He also views Quinkelin as an older brother figure

HILARIOUS: Tomlin's adoptive father, Cateral, tried many attempts to make boots that hide Tomlin's more hooved way of walking. This ended up with many, many failed attempts and a crying lil baby Tomlin

HEART CRUSHING: Tomlin suffers from the fact that he's deeply loyal to the Imperium and yet... there's not any way he can just ignore the fact that he has others like him. For a long time, Cateral never bothered to tell him about the Tau [or at least much] since they worked in a part of the galaxy that just didn't have a lot [if at all] T'au contact On one hand, he wants to be around his people. On the other, he can't betray the people that raised him and also wouldn't know what he'd do or be since he's clearly born as a Fire Warrior.

UNREALISTIC, FUCK CANON THO: Tomlin is startlingly strong and could stand toe-to-toe in a fist fight with a human. This is in part of the training Quinkelin, his older 'brother' and an astartes, and also because of his adoptive father

#warhammer 40k #fallout new vegas #OC #headcanons #2lim3rz chats to psiscribe

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gxngsoflondon · 4 years

Text

As The World Caves In - Part 1/?(Sean Wallace x Reader)

A/N: Hi guys! This first chapter is mainly background information, so bear with me (its not the most action packed chapter but it is 100% necessary).This is going to be a pretty long series so lemme know if you want to be added to a tag list xxxx

Materlist!

Part 1: Bang Bang! (My Baby Shot Me Down)

Nothing good ever becomes of the girl unfortunate enough to fall in love with a Wallace.

There is blood, thick pools of the stuff, not all of it yours.

There is too much blood.

You are running out of time.

This is how you’re going to die, you are sure of it now. But before you do, they are going to take him away from you.They are going to pull everything worth living for out of your sorry little world.

Sean.

You will not let them take Sean from you. You will make sure that he’s safe.

You hear them coming now.

This is it.

/// 16 Years Before \\\

A giggle fills the garden.

It’s more of a squeal in all honesty, carefree and silly and full of joy. Children’s laughter. The innocence of a little girl’s giggle is out of place here.

Innocence is out of place here.

“Ha! Sean! You’re out!” you call “I got you fair and square.”

Three fathers and three mothers sit on black woven garden furniture. Wallace, Dumali, Anderson, London crime royalty. There is no business to attend to today so they are also laughing, glasses of champagne in hand as they watch their children play on wooden stick horses in the April sunshine.

“Nuh uh Y/N! You didn’t shout BANG”

“Yes I did!”

“I didn’t hear you”

“Me neither”

“I did! I did! You’re all dead!’

“You absolutely did not”

You are tall for your age. A pretty white dress, white tights, pristine white shoes, but your pigtails are falling out, the dainty white ribbons becoming a tangled mess and you run to keep up with the boys.

Billy. Skinny, ears and elbows jutting out, a mop of curly brown hair.

Alex. Taller, dimpled cheeks and nervous eyes, deep chocolate skin.

Sean. Grinning, exploding with freckles, blonde eyelashes so long they tangled themselves.

“Watch, like this Y/N,” Sean says patiently, turning his fingers into a gun “BANG! BANG!”

Billy and Alex theatrically hit the ground, taking great pleasure in twitching and convulsing as they pretend to die.

You gallop towards them just as Alex starts to sit up.

“BANG!” you yell and he falls down again. Sean is smirking at you as you both trot together, linking arms as you parade around victorious. You stand on your tiptoes and you kiss his cheek, sparking fits of laughter from Alex and vomiting sounds from Billy.

“She’s precious that one,” Marian coos, she is watching you as you march the length of the garden clutching her own son. She adores you, loves you almost as much as her own.

Your mother laughs.

“She’s not all sweetness and sugar, i’d check you’ve got all of your jewlery when we leave she’s going through a ‘borrowing without permission’ phase,”

Finn guffaws

“Still a damnsight sweeter than my boys”

“You might be stuck with her, she came up to me the other day asking ‘When I marry Sean will I get to stay at Aunty Marians all the time?’”

Marian grins again.

“I guess Alex is out of luck then,” chuckles Mrs Dumani. She is sat cross legged on the grass with the girls. Jacquline and Shannon are oil painting canvases, something not even the promise of sweets would bribe you into doing.

Trust me, your mother had already tried.

She wished you’d stay away from the boys, even further away from the family business.

Gangs are no place for little girls.

“My daddy’s going to show us a real gun!” Alex says as you watch all three fathers approach you, “Now that Billy’s seven, we’re all old enough,”

“But- I’m still five?”

“Yes but Y/N you're a girl,” says Billy pointedly, grimacing with the word as if it tastes foul.

You scowl at your brother Tom, a teenager now, as he picks you up and carts you back to your mother.

You love Tommy more than anybody in the world, so you only kick him twice.

”Why can’t I stay with the boys! None of this is fair!” you announce, your arms are crossed, lip pouting in defiance.

Your mother isn’t phased, she’s been practicing this conversation. The Wallace and Dumani mothers are smiling encourangling at her, they have been here before themselves.

They will raise smart daughters, undeniably good and honest and strong.

Their husbands will raise smart businessmen, undeniably rich, undeniably powerful.

“Look at you darling, you are my treasure. I love you very much,” Your mother is stroking your hair and when you try to pull away, she cups her hand to your cheek. ‘And you know why we stay away from Daddy’s business, don’t you”

“I know but-’

“That’s right, to keep you safe and sound dear,”

This isn’t the first time you’ve shown interest in the family business. That’s what is worrying Mrs Anderson and what is making her face settle into an unsupressable frown.

“But-”

It is Marian Wallace that speaks next.

“Try and listen to your mother Y/N”

She is looking at you with a firm, no bullshit stare. You know this is an order.

‘It's not fair! They get to-”

“Y/N, it’s a scary world out there. There is no place for you in that horriblness do you understand?” a more mellow Mrs Dumani says.

Yet, you don’t understand, how could you? Your mother had done everything in her power to shelter you from the violence attached to your surname.

Only Tom would be expected to contiue the family business.

“But I’m not scared of anything!”

Guillabe, naive, innocent, ditsy. How do you explain to a 5 year old that they inherited a world of death, drugs and crime?

Your brother has an idea. “Man eating spiders, cannibal clowns” He is sneaking up behind you and whispering in your ear

“Thugs, criminals, beasts, Please, they’ll eat you up, alive!”

Your skin takes on a crawling quality, even though you know it’s only Tommy, you are starting to panic.

“No!”

“Yes!”

“But-”

“Also, snakes and large bugs, men with pointy teeth, slimy monsters that creep under your bed at night and swallow you whole”

Any joking quality is removed from Tom's voice. He is doing everything he can to scare you.

It is working. You are only a small child

Guilt flashes on his face when your bottom lip quivers slightly.

“Tommy that’s enough, you’re upsetting her.” Marian again.

You are running straight to your mother, her arms opening to wrap you in a tight embrace.

“You’ll be safe as long as you stay with Mummy okay?”

You agree and she is still cradling you when Finn, Ed and your father return. They had left the boys inside.

“You haven’t been crying have ya?” Finn says. He bends down to ruffle your hair and you shake your head violently.

“Look I know you might want to be like the boys. Personally, I wouldn’t bother, cabbage heads the lot of them. But if you ever see one of these-”

He reaches into his pocket.

And then Finn Wallace gives a five year old girl a gun.

“-I want you to run in the opposite direction, do ya hear me?”

Your mother’s eyes are wide with shock, Marian’s mouth open ready to lecture her husband. But he takes the gun back from you before you can wrap your fingers around it.

“I want you to make me and Uncle Finn a promise Y/N. You wouldn’t lie to us would you? You won’t ever go near one of these will you? It’s very important”

It was your father this time.

“Of course not Daddy,”

“Good, now why don’t you play with Jackie and Shannon?”

“Actually,” your mother says, almost eager to leave now ”I think our drivers here”

You rush through your goodbyes and are herded into the back of the black vehicle. Your daddy sits in the front with the driver, you sit in the middle in the back. You aren’t quite sure why, but you feel the urge to give Tommy a big hug. You do.

As you pull out of the Wallace estate, you see the boys pressed up against a large bay window. Alex is grinning at you, Billy pulling a hideous face and sticking his tongue out. It’s only Sean that is actually waving at you, and you are waving back.

“Why can’t we all live together in one big house Mummy?” you ask.

Your father chuckles.

“Come now Y/N, we’ll be back again tomorrow. Just like always.”

You are smiling as the boys in the window disappear from view, knowing you’ll be back playing with them in the morning. Just like always.

But this is the last time you will see the Wallaces, for a very very long time.

(Part 2!!!)

#gangs of london #sean wallace #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london imagine #joe cole #joe cole imagine #sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic #sean wallace fic

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harvestleaves · 4 years

Text

Teething

Prompt: S/he won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do.I’m a horrible mother/father… With insecure tk?

A/N: You can also read this on Ao3 here

Rating: G

Word Count: 709

TK let out a small whimper of his own at the screaming sobs that kept coming out of the bundle in his arms. Isabella has woken up from her afternoon nap crying and no matter what he tried, nothing he was doing seemed to soothe her. Not a change, or a bottle or a lullaby. Nothing.

And now TK was close to tears at the fact he couldn’t do anything to help her. Carlos was on a shift, and he didn’t want to bother his husband with something as simple as a crying baby.

Biting his bottom lip, TK thought about who in his life other than his husband would be an expert on crying babies. Within seconds, TK had his phone up to his ear as he cradled Bella close to his chest, hoping that the person on the other end would pick up.

“TK? Is everything okay?”the calming sound of his dad’s voice had the tears flowing in a matter of seconds.

“D-dad? She won’t stop crying, I don’t know what to do. I’m a horrible father,” TK choked out as he walked circles around the nursery, wishing Carlos was home because the other man seemed to be a baby whisperer.

“C-Carlos can always get her to stop crying in a matter of seconds and I feel like nothing I do is working,” TK gasped out between sniffles, his breathing becoming more labored in his panic.

“TK, take a deep breath. You’re doing fine, you are not a horrible father. Having a baby is tough kiddo, they can’t communicate what they need, it’s a learning curve. I’m on your block now. Do you think you can hang up for me?” Own asked in concern as he pulled onto the street before hanging up at TK’s sniffle of ‘yeah’.

Pulling into the driveway next to TK’s car, Owen quickly scrambled out before knocking on the door.

His heart broke at how much of a mess TK was as the door opened. His sons hair was rumpled up and he had tear streaks on his face, in addition to the crying baby in his arms.

“Hey kiddo, I’m here. We’ll figure out what’s going on,” Owen cooed as he pulled TK into a firm hug before gently reaching down to press the back of his hand to his granddaughters forehead.

“She’s a little warm. Where’s your thermometer? I think little miss here just might just be starting to teethe,” Owen smiled, making a note of the small sliver of tooth he saw when Bella opened her mouth for another loud wail.

Wincing once more, TK handed Bella over to his dad before he ducked into the bathroom to grab the thermometer before using it to check his daughters temperature. “It’s only 98, a little up but not by much. You think she’s teething?” he asked in surprise before he gently tilted Bella’s chin up to look and sure enough, he saw the beginning of a tooth.

“Oh my gosh, I’m such an idiot. How did I forget about teething? See? I’m awful at this!” TK huffed as he crossed his arms, though his frown dissolved when Bella started to wiggle in Owens arms and make grabby hands at her dad once more.

“Looks like she wants you back. You’re not an idiot, I completely freaked out myself when you started teething. You were trying to chew on your hand so much I thought you were gonna become a cannibal,” Owen laughed, smiling as Bella finally started to calm down once she seemed to realize that TK himself was finally relaxing.

“Look, she was crying because you were upset too. She was probably just worried about you. Let me text Carlos and have him bring home some teething supplies for her, you just go lay down with her and watch Barney, or Frozen, or whatever it is babies watch nowadays.”

TK nodded as he cradled Bella close to his chest before he moved to lay on the couch with her. The 6 month old was creating a small drool spot on his favorite yellow hoodie, but he’d settle for all the drool stains if it meant that the little bundle in his arms would be safe and loved...always.

#911 lone star fanfic #911 lone star #tk strand #owen strand #tarlos kid #tarlos fic #tarlos #carlos reyes

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brokehorrorfan · 4 years

Text

Blu-ray Review: The House by the Cemetery

The House by the Cemetery is the final installment in Italian director Lucio Fulci's unofficial “Gates of Hell” trilogy, following City of the Living Dead and The House by the Cemetery. Released between 1980 and 1981, the three plots are unrelated, but they explore similar themes and share a leading lady in Catriona MacColl, who takes on a different part in each film. It’s generally agreed upon that they rank alongside Zombie as Fucli's strongest efforts.

The House by the Cemetery's script - penned by Fulci and his The Beyond co-writers Dardano Sacchetti and Giorgio Mariuzzo, based on story by Elisa Briganti (Zombie) - follows Norman Boyle (Paolo Malco, The New York Ripper) and his wife, Lucy (MacColl), and young son, Bob (Giovanni Frezza, Manhattan Baby), from New York City to the Boston suburb of New Whitby. They move in to the infamous Freudstein House to continue the research of Norman's former colleague, who murdered his mistress before committing suicide.

The strange instances begin almost immediately as the Boyle clan moves in to the titular abode next to a graveyard. Bob shares a strange bond with a little girl (Silvia Collatina) who may be a ghost; the babysitter (Ania Pieroni, Tenebrae) eerily resembles a local mannequin; a hidden tomb is discovered in the house; and then there's the zombie-like creature living in the basement that must kill to survive. Fulci cited H.P. Lovecraft as an influence on the film while Sacchetti drew inspiration from Henry James' The Turn of the Screw, but it shares more in common with The Shining, filtered through the distinct lens of 1980s Italian horror.

The House by the Cemetery features a relatively straightforward plot by Fulci standards. While his signature dreamlike narrative choices do seep in, the haunted house angle makes the occasional incoherence more palatable. The graphic bloodshed for which Fulci was known is present - they didn't call him the Godfather of Gore for nothing - but even Maurizio Trani (Troll 2, Zombie) and Giannetto De Rossi's (High Tension, Zombie) effects are comparatively subdued. The overall restraint aids both the Gothic atmosphere and the pacing, which may have otherwise been thrown off.

The House by the Cemetery has received a limited edition Blu-ray release from Blue Underground. The 1981 picture is newly restored in 4K from the uncensored original camera negative, allowing Sergio Salvati's (The Beyond, City of the Living Dead) cinematography - and his gratuitous zooms - to really pop with more detail and more saturated colors. It features both English and Italian audio options. It must be noted that the English track features one of the worst dubs of all time in Bob. The boy seems to be voiced by an adult female barely bothering to alter her voice, lending itself to some unintentional humor - but the restoration is so good that it’s tolerable.

The three-disc set includes the new transfer on Blu-ray, a second Blu-ray loaded with extras, and a bonus CD featuring the film's soundtrack. Fabio Frizzi, who composed the scores for Fulci's prior two Gates of Hell movies (among others), was unable to return due to time restrains. Walter Rizzati (1990: The Bronx Warriors) was tasked with completing the trilogy, with select tracks composed by Alexander Blonksteiner (Cannibal Apocalypse). A worthy successor, Rizzati’s score is in line with Frizzi’s work along with echos of the moody synthesizer of John Carpenter and the prog-rock of Goblin. The set also includes reversible artwork, a lenticular slipcover, and a booklet featuring an informative essay by Michael Gingold.

The first disc has a new audio commentary with Troy Howarth, author of Splintered Visions: Lucio Fulci and His Films. Much like his The New York Ripper track, the Fulci expert provides an insightful and interesting listen. The disc is rounded out by a one-minute, silent deleted scene (which was discovered in the original negative but is not found in any version of the film), international and U.S. theatrical trailers, a TV spot, and two galleries of poster and stills.

The second disc includes a few new featurettes in addition to all of the interviews from Blue Underground's 2011 Blu-ray release of the film for a total of nearly 2 and a half hours of bonus content. In a new interview, Mariuzzo details how he went from assistant director to writer. He also matter-of-factly refers to Fulci as “very unpleasant” aesthetically but says he is organized and cultured. Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci author Stephen Thrower waxes poetic about the film in a new piece. A previously unreleased 2014 Q&A with MacColl from the UK’s Spaghetti Cinema Festival is a delightful chat centered on the trilogy; she cites The Beyond as her favorite of the three.

The existing extras are also great. MacColl and Malco discuss Fulci's abrasive approach with actors - which nearly led Malco to quit - but both grew to love him. Frezza and Collatina both mention that Fulci made them cry on set, but they look back on it with a smile. Frezza emphatically apologizes for the bad dubbing of his voice, which he assures is not him. Actress Dagmar Lassander talks about this film as well as The Black Cat, Hatchet for the Honeymoon, and her first convention. Actor Carlo De Mejo discusses following in the footsteps of his mother, Suspiria’s Alida Valli, and working with Fulci and Bruno Mattei. Briganti explains how the plot came from her interest in child psychology, while Sacchetti hits on the importance of ambiguity. Salvati, Trani, De Rossi, and creature actor Giovanni De Nava break down several memorable effects.

The House by the Cemetery is available now on Blu-ray via Blue Underground.

#the house by the cemetery #house by the cemetery #catriona maccoll #lucio fulci #the beyond #city of the living dead #blue underground #review #article #dvd #gift #italian horror #horror #80s horror #1980s horror

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choptopsbigstinkyslut · 4 years

Text

Home

Did I do this self-indulging? Yes.

Did I do this because I would literally fucking die for this rat man? Yes.

Do I care if it’s cringe-worthy? No.

{} By the way, I vaguely remember someone giving Nubbins the name Percy. For me, it stuck. Thus the use of it. I do not remember who exactly gave him this name. However, if you remember please let me know! {}

{ Also! Let’s talk Canon for a second yeah? So I suppose in this timeline you could say they weren’t always cannibals. That it was a progressive trip to Cannibalism. Don’t like it- that’s cool. I do. Eat a shoe.}

Let me live cowards.

What had once been her favorite time of year turned to days that seemed to run together. Though that wasn’t anything new. For the past seven years, things hadn’t been the same.

For seven years, she watched tragically as the family fell apart. She watched Drayton grow more aggressive towards her, Percy and Bubba. Though he wouldn’t talk about it, Zoey saw that Percy seemed to feel the same way she did. A sense of emptiness.

Zoey had a vague memory of two girls from when she was in high school. The memory was foggy but she coulda sworn they were named Carol and Annie. That they were inseparable. That the two felt like they could tell each other anything. Taking some assumption from the bond those two had she assumed it was similar for them.

For her, she took the pain she felt in her heart and multiplied it by six for what Percy must’ve felt and most of the time, Zoey felt the most pain when she’d watch Bubba constantly walk past the big window in the living room, waiting for the day the rest of the family had been waiting for.

It was a fond memory. One that seemed to play over and over and over in her mind almost anytime the war was discussed on TV. She remembered getting the mail that day, reading over the names on the letters. Some things for Drayton, junk, more junk but then she saw something for her love.

She remembered picking up the pace as she jogged up the few stairs of the house and into the living room, distributing the mail to the respective owner before heading into the kitchen to get her tea. It was the last time she had drank green tea. The thought of making a cup of green tea scared her. If such news would arrive while she drank it, she didn’t want to risk drinking it again and receive the devastating news.

She couldn’t forget the tension that was felt in the room on November 18th. She remembered walking into the living room, sitting down beside him and the look on his face seemed to tell it all.

She knew something was wrong. Bright blue eyes trailed down to the paper he held. The feeling was so familiar. Her stomach dropped and her mouth felt dry. She remembered setting the tea down on the table with a soft clank and swallowing back her tears as she sat on the couch, her entire world felt as if it had just come crashing down on her.

For two weeks Zoey felt nothing but numb and she had cried more than she had in her whole life.

It was a present memory that Zoey was aware would stay with her for years and by God it had.

But for seven years, there were things that held her over. Letters were, of course, fortunate despite being rare and sporadic, Zoey appreciated and valued every single one. The other important thing that held her over was the simple ring clinging to her finger. She had worn it proudly for eleven years and would continue wearing it until he came home and she could add a lovely little wedding ring.

Those positive thoughts certainly helped, but now it was just a waiting game and had been for a while now. Every morning Zoey would wake up but felt no different.

However, that was far from the case this day.

Zoey had turned in early the night before, simply due to her own feelings getting to her. That stupid song had been playing on the radio all day. Multiple times. Damn Elvis for releasing it. Damn the radio for playing it over and over and over. Damn Drayton for keeping it on that day. By seven-thirty, Zoey had heard it far too many times and the memories had been too much to handle that day.

The memory of standing in the kitchen with the love of her life, wrapped up in his arms, swaying gently to Elvis’s soothing voice. It was a good memory in general but not today. Not when she was standing in the kitchen doing the dishes and it played for the sixth time that day. Not at all.

She had slugged her way up the stairs, into her room and shut the door gently, forcing herself not to cry as she peeled her clothes from her body, tossing her jeans onto the vanity chair, followed by her shirt and Bra and replacing it with a baby pink nightgown. Crawling into bed shortly after.

Zoey slept peacefully until six in the morning when her body had woken her up. She tried to go back to sleep but something inside her wasn’t letting her. Finally giving in, Zoey rolled out of bed.

A soft sigh escaped past her lips as she scuffed her feet across the wooden floors, trying to keep her volume down as she knew sleep was precious in this house. Especially for Bubba. Despite her need to pee, the need to check on him was far stronger. Gently her fingers gripped the soft white robe hanging on the back of the door, pulling it off the hook and wrapping herself up in the comfort of it all.

As Zoey gently turned the knob, she couldn’t help but cringe as a pained squeak escaped the door. Her heart dropped, terrified this whiny door had woken up those still asleep.

Zoey held her breath as she gently snuck out of her own room, looking around nervously for a moment.

She heard no rustling from any of the bedrooms and assumed she was safe. Zoey took one step and then another, now standing at Bubba’s bedroom door. Her fingers gently wrapped around the knob and pushed the wooden door open, praying it wouldn’t squeal out and wake him. Despite the darkness, Zoey felt at ease seeing that Bubba was asleep. A soft sigh of relief slipped past her lips as she gently shut the bedroom door.

But as one door shut, another opened, turning to face the bedroom at the end of the hall, Zoey’s eyes widened “D-Drayton?” She asked softly, already fumbling with her hands as she prepared to face the eldest brother’s rath. “Zoey. You’re up early, any particular reason?” He asked, seeming to already be dressed and ready to head to the station.

Zoey choked on her words before responding “Just uh, had to go to the bathroom but uhm...something in my heart said to just check up on Bubba.” She explained, her eyes looking past Drayton, a silent prayer that he’d buy it.

Fortunately, it seemed as though the eldest Sawyer brother bought her lie.

“Alright, sorry to bother you.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, not seeming to want to ask further questions. Zoey stepped aside to allow Drayton around her and down the stairs.

“Oh uh Zoey,” He said, stopping and turning to face her. Internal dread hit her as she turned around “Yes Sir?” she asked nervously “Get Bubba up soon. If he ain’t up before Lunch I’ll beat both your asses.” He threatened before continuing down the stairs.

Zoey inhaled deeply, shaking it off “Water off ducks back...water off ducks back.” She said to herself, continuing on her path to the bathroom.

Once the bathroom door was shut, she sighed softly, unsure why she felt such a strange way this morning. It didn’t matter.

Zoey was quick to use the bathroom and decided to first try a shower to make herself feel better. As the water warmed, Zoey sighed, her body hurt and her being hurt. Everything just hurt.

Zoey feared that today was going to be a bad day. A day where every little memory she had of her and Paul would slap her across the face. Those were some of the most draining days. Days that she struggled to finish her chores or her food or finish much of anything. It really was simply a day she’d spend more time locked in the bathroom crying than living.

Either way, she had to get in the shower, her robe was pulled from her body as she dropped layers of clothing onto the floor before pulling her hair up into a tight bun to try and keep it as dry as possible.

As she stepped into the shower, she felt the hot water drench her skin, a sense of relief hitting her. It didn’t fix everything but it did make her feel somewhat better. As she washed her body, her mind began to wander. First to what she might head downstairs and find to eat than to what she was going to feed Bubba and then it began to spiral. It began to spiral to a place that wasn’t good for her to go.

She thought about what her precious Paul was eating. How miserable he must be, how exhausted he must be. It terrified her beyond belief.

“No.” She ordered herself “you can’t think like that. He’ll be home soon.” She reminded herself, continuing her shower, coating her body in a layer of Rose scented body wash. “Think positive Zoey. Think positive.” She insisted, rinsing off her body rather quickly.

She hadn’t intended to take a long shower, just enough to clean her body off and move on. Zoey turned the water off, exhaling heavily as she did and reaching out. She pulled the soft green towel off the rack, wrapping it around her body, trying to get her thoughts back on track, but, it was hard.

Seven years was a long time to only imagine his laugh, his voice, his embrace. She missed him so very much, every day was a struggle, not to mention the additional fear that one day the news would come around that her sweet snuggle bunny wouldn’t be coming home.

As Zoey brought her mind back to earth, she pulled the bathroom door open, stepping out and hurrying to her room. She truly did not want to be seen by Bubba. She didn’t need to traumatize him in that way.

When she had made it back to her bedroom, she made her way over to her dresser, painted in soft white, the top was covered in many things from a vase full of fake tulips to her little jewelry box to the shoe box she kept up there.

The shoe box was old and beaten, on the verge of falling apart but the memories outweighed its appearance. This box Zoey had gotten from her mother. It was the box her shoes came in for the Valentine dance she attended when she was fifteen. It was the first time she had gone to a school event with her lover. She still had the shoes somewhere, but they were not in the box. For her, she used it as a letterbox.

Every single letter that had been addressed to her was held in that box. Seven years’ worth of letters were in that shoebox and if anything happened to it, Zoey wasn’t sure if she’d survive.

Zoey pulled open the top drawer of her dresser, digging around for a moment before finding herself a pair of undergarments and a bra, tossing them onto the bed.

She was quick to turn to the closet, pushing the door open and the colors that met her eyes sent a shot of excitement down her spine. She scanned the shirts, jeans, and dresses that hung in her closet, trying to decide on what she wanted to wear that day.

Her eyes scanned shirt after shirt, bottom after bottom until her eyes landed on a dress. It was one she hadn’t worn in a long time but she liked it. She thought about it for a moment and it occurred to her that she wore this dress out on a date with Paul.

The dress was a mid-thigh black loose-fitting dress, long-sleeved of course but the shoulders exposed. On the bottom of the said dress, it was lined with shades of orange and blue pattern. Deciding it was the right fit, Zoey tossed it over her shoulder onto the bed.

Soft blue eyes trailed onto the shoe box resting on the dresser. Internally she wanted to get dressed and sit on the bed to read some but knew better. If she did she’d ruin her own day. She’d begin to miss Paul even more than normal and it would consume her day.

“Maybe Later…” She reassured herself, wanting to let her aching heart know that later tonight they could sit on the bed and imagine these words being said by him.

Now fully prepared to get dressed, Zoey dropped the towel to the floor with intentions on cleaning it up later and quickly got dressed. Underwear then bra and finally her dress.

Once fully dressed, Zoey turned to the vanity, tossing her shirt and jeans from last night onto the floor. Yet something else she would clean up later. Zoey was quick to pull her ponytail out and fluff her hair.

Gently Zoey reached down, opening up the top drawer, as she pulled out her hairbrush.

Beginning to run the bristles through her hair, she tried not to let her mind wander. But, she couldn’t help it. As the bristles of her brush ran through her hair she couldn’t help but remember how Paul would run his fingers through her hair. How he would twirl it around and around his finger when they’d cuddle together. How much he loved to play with her hair. She couldn’t help but visualize the smile on his face he’d have whenever she’d ask if she looked alright.

A shaky breath escaped her as she set her hairbrush down on the vanity. Staring at her own reflection. For a moment, just a moment she could see him in the mirror. She saw him sitting on the side of the bed, watching her get herself ready. It made her chest ache for a moment before shaking it off and standing up. She scooped up her laundry and tossed it into the hamper in the corner of the room before heading out. Shoes were irrelevant.

Zoey shut her bedroom door behind her, silently dreading a full day of chores. As Zoey made her way to the stairs, she stopped outside Bubbas door, knocking lightly “Bubba…” She said quietly, gently opening the door “Bubba...honey come on...it’s time to get up…” Zoey chirped, watching as the sleepy head sat up “Good morning Bubba!” She said softly, watching as he crawled out of bed “Hey Bubba, listen, I’m gonna go start cooking so uhm, just meet me downstairs once you’re ready okay honey?” She asked, keeping her voice down.

Zoey knew how much Bubba appreciated when she’d wake him up, only because she’d keep her voice down and warm. She watched as Bubba started getting ready for a busy day. Zoey took that cue to head on downstairs and start cooking.

Once she was downstairs, Zoey started cooking per Usual routine.

Slowly it all began to run together. Bubba came downstairs, ate, Zoey ate, did the laundry, swept the floors. It felt like every other day Zoey had been living for the past seven years.

As the sun began to set, Drayton came back and helped her make dinner. It was slowly becoming another day that Paul hadn’t come home.

That was until Zoey was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from dinner, her eyes glued on the window above the kitchen sink. Staring off into the distance, daydreaming about that moment. The moment she’d get blinded by headlights and she’d be reunited with her Paul.

But, it seemed strange. Her vision was slowly filled with bright lights...headlights.

Her hands gently turned the sink off “Uhm...Drayton? I don’t mean to bother you but I think someones here…” She said nervously, turning the corner to catch the eldest Sawyer sitting in his chair “Ah Dammit Zoey, are you sure?”

“I Saw headlights pull’ up to the house-” Zoey responded, watching Drayton rise from his seat. “Dammit-” He sighed, making his way out of the living room and off to go collect whoever it could be.

Zoey watched as he walked off, her heart sinking a little as Bubba flinched when Drayton walked past.

“Don��t worry Bubba...I’m sure it’s just another dumb lost tourist…” She explained quietly, on the verge of sitting down but stopped the second she heard the yelling outside.

“Goddammit Drayton where is she?!”

Zoey’s eyes widened “Uhm...Bubba, I’ll be right back okay?” Zoey said nervously before turning and hurrying off, flinging the front door open and tossing it back, now standing on the porch.

It took her a moment to process who was standing beside that beat-up truck but once it occurred to her who was here.

Her Paul. He was home. He was really back home. Back in Texas. Frozen in shock for only a moment longer before she shoved past Drayton and hurried down the stairs, pouncing on top of him. Her arms wrapped around him tightly with her entire body pressed against his. The comfort she felt wrapped up in his arms with his chin resting on the top of her head.

“You-You came back...You-you’re home and I-” Zoey sniffled, on the verge of continuing but stopping as Paul spoke, “Shhhh Darlin, Shhh.” He responded as his hand began to trail up and down her back.

For him, he was just as thankful and shocked to be home and holding her. “You look incredible-” He said, daring to let his hand wander down to Zoey’s bottom, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Zoey you look absolutely perfect-” Paul said, finally taking a step back to look at her and just admire how gorgeous she looked.

“I-” Zoey was at a loss, now finally having a chance to look at him.

She saw how tired he was. How thankful he was to be home with Zoey.

“Let’s get you inside hmm?” She offered, on the verge of turning to head back inside but Paul pulled her back “Zoey I dunno where you think you’re goin’ but I haven’t gotten a single kiss from you.” He insisted, keeping her wrapped up in his arms.

Zoey blushed lightly, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips and damn did he soak it all in. “Oh, my precious Zoey you’ve not changed since I left.” He said when she finally pulled away.

Zoey grinned “Thanks love, now can I getcha inside?” She asked, gently taking his hand in hers “Yeah...you can…” He said with a gentle smirk, letting his lovely lady drag him into the house.

That evening was spent well. After Bubba had said his Hellos to his brothers, Paul and Zoey were left alone. To be together.

To enjoy each other's company.

To be a couple.

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howlingmoonrise · 5 years

Text

Dear Yuletide Author

hello and thank you for signing up for yuletide, i hope you have fun during the challenge!

i ramble a lot so my letter is under a readmore (i put everything in one post so you don’t have to juggle links around). obviously you don’t have to follow any of the things i put in here, but hopefully this will help you out!

general things i like

PINING. I’M SUCH A SLUT FOR PINING ALL THE PINING ULTRA PINING SUPER PINING. i have SO MUCH FUN reading about idiots in love who aren’t together yet and i far prefer it to fics with already established relationships. this is also applicable to when they know the other is in love with them but they can’t act on it for some reason.

i’m down for either gen or romantic!! what really does it for me is the developing relationship, platonic or otherwise, and the character dynamics and interactions and all the little moments in between. stuff like developing trust and finding kinship and growing respect for the other and subconsciously learning to lean on the other over anyone else is far more important for me than any kissing will ever be (though kissing is also nice if you wanna go down that route lmao)

i love love LOVE enemies/rivals-?to-friends?-to-lovers and bickering pairs in general, as you can probably tell by my choice in character! it’s so much fun and it gives us so many opportunities for character and relationship developments :D

continuing from the above points, nothing kills me as much as characters that bicker all the time but in the end they rely on the other and go to each other before they go to anyone else, whether they realize it or not

i REALLY like the canon and characters for all the fandoms i picked, so sticking at least to their characterizations and the overall “tone” of canon is a huge plus!! “missing scenes” and “what if” canon-divergent situations are excellent, as are continuations from where canon left us! that being said, i also enjoy more conceptual AUs and i’ve put more details about those a little further below. rule of thumb is that i enjoy AUs where the focus remains more on the relationship itself and how it works on such a setting than on the worldbuilding for it.

fun tropes i enjoy (sorry, these are a bit romance-leaning but if you’re not into that they can probably be adapted somehow): fake dating, accidentally got roped into x and shenanigans of all sorts keep happening, misunderstood confessions, groundhog day au, one or both the characters having stupid levels of denial while technically in a relationship and just not realizing it like What Do You Mean We’re Dating??, that sorta thing.

TROPE SUBVERSION ALL THE WAY!

general things i dislike

kidfics. babyfics. next gen fics. pregnancy fics, or even pregnancy discussed in the fic is a major squick of mine. the one exception i make for kidfics is for petshop of horrors when it comes to chris and the pets, as they already belong in canon, but no babies or children otherwise please.

future fics in general, actually. what i enjoy is the relationship development, so huge time skips make me feel like we missed way too much. one exception to this is post-canon petshop of horrors, for obvious reasons.

i usually don’t like most angst stuff since it feels a bit gratuitous to me when it comes to most fandoms and characters. the one exception for this is psoh (see below if you’re picking this fandom - and wow psoh seems to be the exception to everything huh) or when it’s a more introspective sort of fic. as a result of this, i’d pass on most content with major character death, sexual abuse, self-harm, the like, though of course there are always exceptions to the rule and you’re free to write as you wish!

hard AUs are a bit ugh to me. by this i mean AUs that rely heavily on setting, such as high school AUs, harry potter AUs, that sort of thing. i DO however enjoy stuff like siren AUs and soulmate AUs, depending on the concept and on the fandom. more details in their own sections if you enjoy writing those!

i heavily dislike things involving cheating/infidelity, sickfics, and genderbending of any kind is a bit ehhhh for me, as are concepts such as ABO. hard pass on stuff like dysphoria and deep diving into most mental illnesses, too (with a possible exception for depression when it comes to psoh).

script-based or roleplay fic is not really my preferred format, i really enjoy prose instead of nearly all dialogue!

if you’re going for nsfw

kinks

moderate sadomasochism, uncommon forms of bondage (plants, stuck with strange substance or in awkward position, the shadows from p&tf as restraints, etc), choking/breathplay, xenophilia and tentacles/alien genitals (shadowplay in p&tf, non-human genitals for the staryk lord, etc), moderate degradation, edging/desperation play, ladies topping and calling the shots, bloodplay/knifeplay, long hair/hair pulling (staryk lord, leon orcot), sharp nails/claws (staryk lord, charlotte la bouff, count d; miryem mandelstam having them is actually preferable to the staryk lord now that i think of it), lowkey cannibalism imagery (count d re:leon orcot)

squicks

scat, vomit, praise kink, daddy or baby kink, vore, forced feminization, pet play, gore, abuse, abo, anything involving pregnancy at all

PETSHOP OF HORRORS

i’m usually not very partial to angst but GODS does psoh throw that out of the window, so feel more than free to run with it if you wanna go down that route. psoh is RIPE for angst. we got two people with abandonment and inadequacy issues: leon who decided to leave his whole life behind to chase someone who gave him life and then left and initially didn’t even bother to do it with any sort of goodbyes, and d who is supremely fucked up by his upbringing and had to push leon off the ark to continue his family’s mission and let drop one (1) single tear that he was not supposed to cry over a human. those fuckers. those idiots. i love them so much.

THAT BEING SAID, i also!!!! love slice of life shit for them!!!!!!!! GODS i love how much they bicker but then they turn around and the other is the person they rely on the most and who they trust implicitly above all others and how they keep roping each other into ridiculous shenanigans. neither of them are particularly communicative with a few rare exceptions, so there’s also a lot of room there for introspection and unspoken affection on both sides, which i LOVE. my son leon in particular is also super underestimated when it comes to his intelligence and tolerance for gay shit both in canon and fandom, and he performs ridiculous leaps of logic and instinct that somehow turn out to be right but that are super ???? for everyone else involved, and that’s always fun to see. hell, just another missing scene where leon brings d some cake and they banter fondly over tea is A++++ to me!!

nsfw???? bring it!!! this is the one fandom where you’re more than free to go super dark and kinky if you wanna, or if you wanna write tender loving reunion sex where d cries a little while leon is loving and disbelieving and so very careful that’s also excellent! i don’t have a particular preference on who tops either, it’s fun either way, but i tend to see leon more as a sub/masochist >u> i can also see it going a bit dark with those two, especially considering d and his kind (implied to eat human flesh and being predators more than once) so bloodplay and cannibalistic thoughts could be fun. re: d’s genitals (as are hotly debated in the fandom), i usually prefer either a dick or triple threat d, though some fun plant-man shenanigans also have their place here.

all in all, psoh is the most excellent genre triangle where i’d be super happy to receive anything on the slice-of-life/angst/smut corners! (also, slash is 3249823% acceptable if you couldn’t tell by my ranting, as is a hint of crack)

if you’re thinking going AU on this one, my suggestions are of slight universe alterations instead of major world AUs. examples could be soulmate AUs (trope subversion would be GREAT here, aka foreign script they didn’t initially recognize, or only Ds having soulmates while humans do not, or the same scenario as the last but leon DOES have it on his skin and just keeps it hidden because Normal Humans Don’t Have Birth Tattoos, or d never expected to have one because his kind is dead and yet when he pushes leon from the ark the soulmate bond is forged, etc), a different first meeting, or even missed connections when they did not know each other yet; something like papa being alive and brady bunch-ing it up with them and chris would also be both excellent and hilarious. epistolary form for those two is also fun! if you wanna go full universe AU, something like a vampire hunter leon could be very interesting >u>

SPINNING SILVER

WHERE DO I EVEN START. miryem and the staryk lord were my favourite part of the book; if the book was only their story i would have already been more than satisfied. the rest of the book is also excellent, but those two???? that story was far too great. enemies to allies to lovers is one of my favourite tropes, and this is one of the examples that just keeps proving me right. the slowly growing respect, the wariness when they both know what the other is capable of, the staryk lord getting hit with the hots for his wife when she manages the impossible and then miryem being unable to just let it go when he’s imprisoned and defeated. ACTUALLY lemme just grab that line of thought and bring up that moment when he was sorrowful and resigned when miryem didn’t argue further for the three rooms full of gold and he thought she would not succeed and that she would have to die for it. that, right there? those moments of renewed respect, those moments sudden longing for something they did not know they wanted? those are the things that kill me.

tonally, i love the sort of writing in canon too much to ask for anything different, though you’re by no means obliged to keep to it or to 1st person pov (i have a love-hate relationship with 1st person pov, ngl). missing moments from the novel or moments from the period of time they spent either courting or apart would be GREAT. for those two i actually don’t mind it too much if they’re already established, if it’s early on in the relationship when they’re still learning how to step around one another. the staryk lord flabbergasted or in awe of miryem is always Excellent(TM). bits of worldbuilding and staryk culture would be fun as applied to their relationship (such as the names thing, or courting habits, etc) as are AUs such as soulmates or alternate meetings and the like. if you’re wanting to go full universe AU, keeping some fairytale elements would be great!

if you’re going for nsfw? the name kink, holy shit that would be so goooood. the staryk lord being a bit of a masochist under miryem’s hands would also be great, and inhuman staryk genitals and erogenous zones/acts would be great to play with such as human body heat affecting them in different ways from normal, etc. bringing in his long hair would be a major plus. the build-up for the actual act is the best, so miryem and the staryk lord being super hot for each other while either denying it internally pre-relationship or being unable to go through with it post-relationship due to several factors (busy dealing with their people, no privacy, etc) would be EXCELLENT. so much fun can be had here!

PRINCESS AND THE FROG

i am 100% aware this is a weird-ass pairing but gods, the possibilities. it has so much potential. there are few things i like quite as much as a villain and a good person developing a strange sort of kinship with each other. this doesn’t have to mean in a romantic way, obviously! as i said, for me it’s the building understanding and reluctant respect that i really love, far more than the actual romance.

ideas, ideas, ideas. i’m aware this is a rare relationship to either portray or ask for, so i’m gonna try to give some more concrete-ish ones for you to build up on if you have no clue as to how to approach this. we could have canonverse with charlotte dealing with the shadowman in some other matter while the main plot is occurring, making him feel somewhat guilty about the whole marriage plot with laurence-turned-naveen; cue introspection or an entirely different outcome. or a post-canon sort of hades&persephone plot, with charlotte curious despite herself and tempted to listen to a shadow/dead/whatever!dr facilier when she’s the only one that can hear him, or her being dragged Beneath as well in a freak accident and then charming him into helping her back to the surface/living world (very, veeeeery reluctantly on his part, at least at the start, he might have even be thinking of tricking her but then change his mind when the time comes to do it). i think dr facilier wouldn’t be sure how to deal with charlotte’s particular brand of personality and good humour, and it’d throw him off his rhythm a lot - that sort of thing is always super fun to write.

soulmate au in canon would work pretty well, but with this pairing? FULL WORLD AU IS YOURS FOR THE TAKING. keeping to the shadowman sort of thing to her normal bougie self would be a major plus; it’s one of her charms. also, charlotte thinking that she wants one thing (her prince, for example) while keeping getting drawn to him time and time again could work on pretty much any era or setting. vice-versa for him, thinking he wants to be rid of her but coming to realize he’d actually miss her if she were to be gone. OR, charlotte deciding she wants this sullen manipulative bastard and manipulating HIM into taking her out and hanging out with her would be hilarious.

if you wanna do nsfw, i have only one major request: charlotte calling the shots/topping. i think this arrangement would be entirely in character for both of them (dr facilier would prob also enjoy having someone else do all the work lol) considering her go-getter attitude, but keeping in mind his manipulative personality i’d be more comfortable if she had some control over what was happening. ASIDE FROM THAT, dyou know what would be fun? a little darkness, and by that i mean consider dr facilier’s shadow joining in on the fun. shadows would also be an interesting sort of constraint. also i know i said charlotte calling the shots, but she can be constrained by the shadows while being amused by it or being used for it to happen (the latter case implying it’s not the first time that they’ve used it in bed play), or charlotte could team up with Shadow to do it to facilier instead. charlotte using her nails and facilier being a bit of a sub/masochist would also be pretty good!

(actually in general it’d be really fun if there was some complicity between charlotte and facilier’s shadow in general, regardless of nsfw or not. the shadow being wrapped around her little finger is an excellent concept, especially if facilier isn’t too fond of her just yet lmfao.)

thank you for reading all my rambling, and i hope you have fun!

#howl rambles a lot #yuletide #yuletide 2019 #dear yuletide author

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amyscascadingtabs · 6 years

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i’ll take your hand when thunder roars

He’s a snivelling, close-to-bawling mess hugging her tight and whispering in her ear how he missed her so much and she strokes his close-cropped hair and says she missed him more and he thinks impossible.

Coming home after eight weeks in prison turns out to be not quite as easy or smooth-sailing as Jake had thought. Luckily, he's not alone.

read on ao3

(a.k.a the post-prison hurt/comfort fic i’ve been thinking about for months and talking about for like a week is finally here)

Considering he hasn’t seen his girlfriend since the latest visiting day was cut short and he only just escaped being stabbed and castrated by Romero’s gang by a hair’s breadth, Jake figures it’d be best of him to perform some super romantic gesture when they finally reunite for the first time. For example, he could give a lengthy, poetic speech containing declarations of love so well-formulated they’d be right at home in a Nicholas Sparks novel. He could propose to her right then and there, completely ignoring how he’s both still ring-less and can think of more idyllic or meaningful places to pop the question than outside a correctional facility. He could lift her up and spin her round while kissing her to imitate the classical Hollywood happy ending. He could even do all three of these ideas following each other.

He ends up not doing any of them.

Because the moment he lays eyes on her sitting on a chair in the impersonal waiting room, biting her nails and staring coldly at the floor, he bursts into tears.

They’re not even cute tears, such as the kind you dab away with the back of your hand and pretend your eyes didn’t tear up at all to the end of the eighth Harry Potter movie.

No, this is full on ugly crying. And it won't even stop. He’s a snivelling, close-to-bawling mess hugging her tight and whispering in her ear how he missed her so much and she strokes his close-cropped hair and says she missed him more and he thinks impossible, because it should be.

His hand rests on hers as they drive to the airport, his thumb rubbing close circles over the soft skin while they chat. South Carolina is passing by outside the car windows, and he makes a promise to himself never to re-enter the state while Amy recaps the events of the last two months.

Gina’s only weeks away from having her baby. Nikolaj is doing great in his new year in school and Charles won’t stop talking about it. She worked a serial arson case she knows he would have loved. She went to dinner at Holt and Kevin’s house one night, which she says was the highlight of her time without him even though her allergies made her spend half the occasion sneezing. When they weren’t working to bust Hawkins, their lives moved on while his stood still, diminished to a reality of bright orange jumpsuits, inhumane guards and food worse than the time Amy tried to make a pulled pork stew by herself. He refrains from telling her how much it hurts to think about, opting instead to gaze at her while she drives and thank every single higher power the Universe could possibly hold that he’s back in her presence.

The first meal he has out of prison is an airport BLT from a plastic carton. It’s still the best meal he’s eaten in weeks. It’s made even better by the company, of course - chatting away almost nervously next to him, continuing to tell him stories and only sometimes going silent to let him know she missed him with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder - their secret code. He smiles then, meets those dark brown eyes he hopes their eventual children will inherit and tells her repeatedly babe, there is no way you missed me more than I missed you.

Both of them fall asleep during the two hour flight back to New York, Amy’s head a relaxing weight on his left shoulder and his left arm wrapped around her. Every now and then he presses kisses to her hairline while their jean-clad legs stay tangled together, only because he can finally, finally do that now.

“Your beard tickles”, she mumbles half-asleep one time, and he wonders aloud if it bothers her.

“No”, she says quietly then. “Not as long as you’re here.”

A cab ride through hectic Brooklyn traffic later, he’s back in their apartment again. They only have an hour to spare there before meeting the rest of the squad for an obligatory celebration at Shaw’s, an hour during which he spends twenty minutes walking around their shared living space while Amy showers. Everything is near the same; there’s a six-pack of orange soda in the fridge, one of his hoodies hangs slumped across a chair (except this one smells like Amy now) and the mornings’ only half-solved crossword puzzle has been left on the dining table. Most of all, it looks and feels like home, like comfort and privacy and being blissfully safe and together with his girlfriend again. As if this is just another Friday afternoon getting ready for a few drinks with the squad at Shaw’s. As if nothing has changed.

Except it has, because the moment he thinks about closing the bathroom door to shower he gets nervous. The heart beating faster, funny feeling in his stomach, head spinning kind of nervous. He barges out still fully dry with the towel around his waist to ask Amy if there’s any way she could stay inside the room while he cleans himself up, and even though she does gives him a concerned, examining look he doesn't like, she quickly nods.

He showers to the sound of her solving the rest of her crossword puzzle sitting on the bathroom floor. She reads the clues out loud and hums almost exaggeratedly while she works, and it's a blessing.

Closed doors and silence remind him of solitary now.

They’re leaving in ten minutes when he asks her the one question his mind refuses to let go of.

“Ames?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“What do you think about the beard? Honest? Is it everything you dreamt of?”

“Oh.” She blushes, thumbing at the hems of her pink sweater without meeting his eyes. “It's great, Jake.”

“You don’t really think so”, he prys, knowing her too well to be satisfied with the first answer.

“If I’m being honest, it doesn't really look like… you?” Her suggestion is doubting and accompanied by a small grimace. “Maybe? It’s up to you, but… I liked you without it.”

The smile he gives her is one of relief. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

They’re the first ones to leave the bar that night - even earlier than Terry, so eager to get home to his kids - and Charles gives them a meaning look as they do, his eyebrows pumping as he tells them to have a good night. Amy promptly shoots him an unappreciative glare, but the fervor and eagerness with which she kisses Jake the moment they’re alone outside makes him wonder if his friend just might have had a point there.

And yeah, fine, it's been eight weeks. More, since they didn’t exactly have oceans of free time before the trial. It's not like the thought doesn't cross his over-exhausted mind when they stumble into the bedroom to change into their respective oversized grey NYPD t-shirts and crawl down under the covers. But he’s tired, he’s so mind-numbingly all-consumingly tired, and their mattress is actually comfortable and the duvet is actually warm and his pillow smells like their detergent and a faint trace of Amy’s shampoo, so he decides the fantasies he entertained himself with in prison can wait a little while. Luckily, he also fantasised about falling asleep next to her, legs intertwined and an arm around her waist for optimal closeness when pressing sleepy kisses to her lips and nose and forehead, and that fantasy he gets to fulfill.

The sound of Amy’s quiet breathing and the warmth her exhales leave against his neck is infinity times better than his cannibal bunk-mate’s snoring and accidentally waking himself by moving his forehead to close to the cold wall in his cell.

Waking up is better outside prison, too. Not even the jubilant joy flowing through him the mornings of visiting days even begins to compare to what he feels opening his eyes after a night of decent rest only to find his girlfriend looking back at him, coy smile and an offer about going out to the bagel shop around the corner to get breakfast. He agrees to it, and even though he’s devoured far too many pizza bagels in his life to be able to rank them all in a fair manner, he’s still pretty sure this one gets first place.

“This is the best breakfast of my life”, he declares when he puts his plate down on the floor and grabs the takeaway cup to chug the last of his coffee. “No pizza bagels in prison. Absolute worst thing about it.”

She raises an eyebrow, taking another bite of her no-pizza whole wheat cream cheese and scallion bagel. “Really, huh?”

“Must be, yeah.” Jake drags his thumb and index finger under his chin, pretending to contemplate what he missed most during his eight weeks of hell even though he knows the answer clear as day. “Can’t remember anything else I missed in there. Total blank. No search results found.”

She rolls her eyes at him the same way she’s done practically since the day they first started working together, the sight of it so familiar and heartwarming by now, and he budges immediately.

“Fine. I missed you. A lot. Like, a lot-a lot. All the time. Even more than pizza bagels.” He gives his grease-stained plate a longing look. “Ouch. That hurt to admit.”

“Well, I was planning to tell you I missed you too, but you just practically compared me to a pizza bagel. So no go.”

“I said you were better than a pizza bagel! That’s some serious stuff”, he argues, giving his best attempt at a moping face. “I can’t believe I didn’t win you over!”

Amy grins then, laughing and kissing him on the cheek before returning to today’s New York Times puzzle. “You already won me over, Pineapples. Pizza bagel love declarations and whatnot.”

They spend most of the day talking and napping together in bed, only moving to the couch around lunchtime for a few of the many DVR’d Property Brothers episodes he’s missed. They facetime Gina for a solid two minutes before she falls asleep and they call Charles instead, order pizza for dinner and don’t change out of their pajamas for the entire day. It’s the least eventful and most wonderful day Jake’s had in months.

It only grows better when the evening draws closer and the light, flirty teasing which has been a recurring theme for the day finally escalates. No fantasies or mashed potato portraits could ever compare to the sight and feel of her on top of him, and she makes sure he remembers it.

Yeah, the first part of Jake’s second night at home after prison is as sublime and faultless as it gets. It's the second part of it that bothers him.

Much like the first night, they fall asleep holding each other. It’s a reminder to themselves about how their eight weeks of hell are finally over, and it’s a little sweaty and impractical, but it still beats the remaining alternative of waking up to find the other gone. Even when they drift apart as the night moves on, Amy has a hand on his chest right over his heartbeat and he one on her shoulder, a physical closeness grounding him and serving as a protecting charm against the nightmares.

It works until it doesn’t.

It takes a while before he realizes it’s a nightmare. Only when Romero’s bearded face and beading eyes appear on the plasma screens earlier showing a first-rate Taylor Swift concert does Jake understand, his first thought being the simple notion that he didn’t even get to see the popstar perform Shake It Off yet.

“If it isn’t the beef baby”, the sly voice reverberates through the cell he’s suddenly back in. “Back so soon… Should’ve known better than to think your little friends would actually get you out.”

“I was innocent”, he tries to argue, but his voice deserts him and out comes only a meek whisper holding little to no self-persuasion. “I knew they would…”

“That wasn’t what I heard in the trial”, says another voice he hoped never to hear again. This time it belongs to Hawkins tall frame, towering over him where he’s crouched on the concrete floor. “It sounded more like… Guilty. On all charges.” She imitates the judge’s severe tone, then snickers. “Oh, yes. It was a true pleasure watching all your little friends panic like that. Fifteen years in prison… The perfect punishment for a dirty cop.”

“I’m not dirty”, he whispers again, only for her to imitate it back in a taunting voice.

“You always were a crack-up, Peralta”, he hears before everything goes black, and the next thing he knows is that he’s dying.

He’s not sure exactly how he knows he’s dying, but he knows. It’s the only plausible explanation to why it feels like someone’s tied a rope too tight around his chest, stripping him of the chance to draw breath in his lungs at a normal pace and speeding his heartbeat to worse than the time he tried running intervals with Rosa. He went to sleep in a bed with the perfect temperature and now he’s boiling under the covers, sweat dripping down his forehead and arms and he’s dying. He’s going to suffocate or get a stroke or simply lose consciousness for good, and some distant part of him still aware of his surroundings notes that he is crying. Great. He’s not even going to die in a dignified way, but instead a weeping, blubbering victim. Part of him can still hear Hawkins’ malicious laughter echoing - she must be watching him somehow - and nothing is real except the darkness in their unlit bedroom and the sound of his pounding heart and wheezing breath as his body fights to keep him alive.

A table lamp turns on somewhere, its illumination stinging in his eyes, and a voice is saying his name.

Not Hawkins voice. Not Romero’s. Amy’s voice.

His breathing eases marginally, but it does. Slowly but surely there’s a little more air in his lungs, giving him enough air to breathe even when the panicked fear remains prevalent.

“Jake”, she repeats, equal parts worry and composure in her tone. “Jake, I think you’re having a panic attack, okay? It’s going to pass. I promise. It’s okay, you’re okay...”

“Nightmare”, he manages to communicate, feeling the worst waves of panic die down with her continued promises assuring him he’s not in prison anymore, he’s here in their shared apartment and he’s perfectly safe. “Bad one.”

“You don’t have to talk about it”, she whispers. He finds the self-control to reach for her hand and squeeze it, the pressure when she squeezes it back grounding him further. His surroundings are slowly becoming real to him again, damp sheets clinging to his sweaty skin in an all but pleasurable way and he feels bad realizing this means Amy will probably want to change them tomorrow. He should offer to, he thinks.

The last thought merely passes by before the dread still lingering in his guts changes into another, more pressing sensation. He practically throws himself out of bed, making it just in time to the bathroom to lean his head over the toilet bowl and cough up yesterday’s dinner.

The possibility of anyone being willing to follow him in this repelling moment didn’t occur to him during the few seconds panic-sprinting out of their bedroom took, but he hears the unmistakable sound of water running from the faucet and realises his girlfriend - this in his eyes surrealistically loyal girlfriend, still not entirely disgusted by him - is there, too.

“Ames.” He can both feel and hear the raspiness in his voice. “Come on, you don’t have to see this.”

“Jake.” She’s pressing a pleasantly cold towel to his forehead and neck, dabbing at the beads of sweat still forming there. “I feel like you should know by now there’s no telling me what and what not to do. You had a panic attack, you got sick when it calmed down and I’m going to wait here with you until you feel better.”

“You should go back to sleep.”

“I literally just told you to stop telling me what to do”, she says resolutely and although it should be impossible he can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “We’re waiting here. Until you feel better.”

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the most intense queasiness passes. He dares to flush, rinses his mouth with water from a plastic cup Amy holds out to him, and finally relaxes against the wall attempting and succeeding at catching his breath.

“I don’t know if I can go back to sleep”, he admits when his head is resting on her thighs and she’s combing her fingers through his hair. “Tonight.”

“That’s okay. I won’t make you.”

“You still should, though.”

“There’s the telling me what to do again.” She sighs, shakes her head. “You need to stop it. Seriously, Jake.”

“Okay”, he tells her, but his guilty conscience isn’t agreeing.

His conscience does not get lighter as his third day as a free man progresses. His own exhaustion doesn’t bother him - there’s real coffee outside of prison, after all - but he sees Amy yawn and it tugs at his heart knowing he’s the cause of her fatigue. If it weren’t for his worthless head and stupid panic attack, she’d be well rested and not have to groan in disappointment upon discovering they’re almost out of food and have to go grocery shopping.

He decides it then and there, when she grumbles over being too tired to make a decent list; he can’t wake her up like this again.

There are no nightmares the next night. He doesn’t let there be.

To cut the explanation short, Jake Peralta doesn’t let himself fall asleep the next night. Sleep can lead to nightmares, nightmares can lead to panic attacks, panic attacks can lead to Amy waking up and she doesn’t deserve it. She’s spent too many sleepless nights at the precinct during his absence working with the others to bust Hawkins, mentioned it briefly in one of the many conversations they’ve had since he got home, and whilst she never says it outrightly he can feel how he’s ruined her life, being an inconvenience and a nuisance without even being there.

He has to make it up her. Although he’s not sure where to begin, he knows waking her up in the middle of the night cannot be the right way to go.

So when she falls asleep, first nestling her head into the crook of his neck and then shuffling a bit further away from him a short moment later, Jake stays awake.

There is one problem with staying awake when no one else is, though, one he quickly discovers. It means no one is there to distract him from his own thoughts.

Contrary to his initial reaction when he was left in solitary, his thoughts aren’t very awesome at all. They’re filled with fear of Hawkins and Romero and prison guards, of insistent loneliness and being deprived of a single hour of conversation with his girlfriend and best friend, of hoping but never knowing if the squad would get him out before fifteen years had passed. They’re riddled with guilt over once again having had to leave Amy and Charles and the squad behind without barely any contact, over how he once again missed his girlfriend’s birthday and over how he left her even after promising Florida would be the last time. They’re stubborn and repetitive and they don’t leave him alone no matter in how much detail he attempts to plan out his dream plot for Die Hard Six on a cruiseship.

Yeah. Jake’s thoughts suck. Repeating them to himself over and over in a dark bedroom feels unbearable, which is why he carefully makes his way out of the bedroom, out into the living room and onto the fire escape, grabbing a blanket from the couch as he goes.

Brooklyn streets are very different from prison, he finds. It makes them an effective antidote for someone who wants desperately to stop thinking about orange jumpsuits, concrete floors and meth-infused soaps. Time moves quickly on Brooklyn streets, with cars zooming by in a rush despite the late hour and inebriated club-goers laughing as they make their way home. Bright street lights illuminate his view, making clear how the buzzing volume and brightness and pure life of everything he sees from here is everything prison was not.

He spent eight weeks away and coming back is already proving much more of a challenge than he’d thought. Everything's the same, from the sullen grocery clerk manning the checkout in their nearest store to the way his definitely meth-less body soap smells to how Charles never texts him less than twenty pictures of Nikolaj in a day, but he’s not the same anymore. Two months have gone without him being there to witness them, two months in which life simply continued for everyone else while his stood still.

He doesn’t want to think about what coming back after fifteen years would have been like.

His thoughts are interrupted when the window opens again and three more blankets, two pillows and one Amy join him out on the uncomfortable metal structure.

“You weren't in bed.” Jake hears the distress and fury in her tone before he sees her. She’s bundled up in the dark blue wool sweater she usually saves for mid-December, and together with the sleep-ruffled ponytail it’d be a cute look on her, were it not for the fact that she’s clearly been crying and is now staring him down using her most no-nonsense glare, the one usually reserved for asserting dominance during interrogations. “I woke up because the bed was cold and you just - you weren’t there.”

“Sorry, babe.” He shrugs, a tad sheepish. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Oh, yeah, you didn’t want to wake me up. Clearly.” She snorts before placing one of the three blankets down on the cold metal beams and wrapping herself in the other two. “So it just didn’t occur to you at all that while you were gone, I might have spent a few evenings crying myself to sleep because the bed was empty and I had no idea for how long? You didn’t consider all the times I woke up in the middle of the night, trying to move closer to you because I was cold, only to realize you weren’t there because you were in prison possibly getting threatened to death and I couldn’t do anything about it? You just didn’t think about that, huh?”

“Amy-”

“Shut up!” She yells it loud enough for it to echo, tears falling again. He wipes them away for her, still unsure of what to do or how to react to his girlfriend’s sudden outrage except for listening. “You didn’t think. You didn’t think about how when I woke up because the bed was getting cold, my first thought was about how you were still in prison and these last few days with you must had been some kind of mirage, some dreamlike fantasy I had hallucinated to deal with you being gone for god knows how long. You didn’t think about how I tried to repeat every single detail about our case against Hawkins in my head to tell myself we were getting you out. You didn’t think about how I for one awful, awful second thought I’d lost you all over again.” She’s panting, gasping for breath when she finishes the angered monologue.

“No.” He’s looking at his feet, suddenly too flustered to say much more only because she’s right. “I guess I didn’t.”

“You’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

She takes a deep breath and links her hand with his. “You’re my idiot, though. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I just - you were so tired today, after I couldn’t go back to sleep last night, and I hated how it was my fault. You shouldn’t have to stay up with me or babysit me. It’s not fair to you.”

“Do you know how many sleepless nights I had when you were gone?”

“No?”

“Me neither. I lost count.” There’s a second of nervous laughter there, despite the message not actually being funny, a second where she moves closer to him to lean her head on his shoulder. “Like, fully lost count. I was running on caffeine and energy shots for the first two weeks, because every time I closed my eyes I saw the judge declaring you guilty and Hawkins and you and Rosa and then you behind prison bars, you being beaten up... I was practically expecting Captain Holt to call and tell me you were dead any minute.”

“You went to prison and came back safe”, he interjects.

“I went to prison undercover with constant supervision meaning I was never in any real danger and it’s not pertinent to the point I’m trying to make here.” She shakes her head. “I would much, much rather you wake me up ten times a night than having to wake up wondering if you’re okay. Because I already did. For so many nights. And I would like it to stop now. I really want it to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He puts an arm around the blankets covering her, knowing she’s most likely chilly despite them. “I’ll do it next time. Promise.”

“Good.”

They’re silent for a moment, watching the cars go by without speaking before she asks.

“Why were you out here, anyway? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not buying it, babe.”

“Fine”, he sighs. “I was thinking about all the things I’ve missed. And then I began thinking about all the things I would have missed if I’d been gone for longer. Like, if I were in there for fifteen years, we would’ve been fifty when I got out. I would have missed you making Sergeant and Lieutenant and Captain, and we’d be too old to have kids, and you would probably have fallen out of love with me and you’d be someone else and I’d be someone else. I’m already different. I already feel like I’ve forgotten how to be me.”

“You’re still you, Jake”, she whispers back without missing a beat. “You’re still the joking, uniquely intelligent, impulsive, sometimes slightly annoying but always entertaining Die Hard-nerd I love so much. I promise.”

“But I’m different. I feel different. I wanted things to be normal and they’re… they’re not. Because I changed.”

“So did I”, she admits, still seeming unbothered by his reveals. “It’d be strange if you didn’t change after what you went through. And it’s gonna get easier, and yes, maybe you’ll never be the exact same, or normal if that’s what you want to call it. But maybe you’ll find a new normal. Maybe we’ll find a new normal.”

He doesn’t answer her directly, just kisses the top of her head from where he can reach and draws her closer into him, revelling in the sweet bliss of having her close again.

“God, Ames, I don’t deserve you, do I?” The words feel cheesy, more emotional than he’d planned, and the way his voice cracks at the honesty surprises him. Post-Prison Jake cries in front of his girlfriend, apparently. So that’s new.

“Honestly?” She laughs again, and even in this anxious enervation it is still the very best sound in the world, made even better when she lifts his head to kiss him softly. “Probably not. But I’m here anyway.”

“I love you”, he manages to get out behind tears. “So much.”

“I know”, she says confidently, and despite the conversation they just had, it makes things feel exactly what he worried he’d never find again; normal.

The next few nights, he wakes her up to let her know where he’s going even if it’s only to the bathroom. If he leaves the apartment, she follows him, no questions asked.

He’s never been more thankful this is the woman he’s going to marry.

(With the engagement ring - in its box, carefully sealed in a plastic bag as to not accidentally spill something on it - hidden in the back of his locker at the precinct, Halloween truly couldn’t feel close enough.)

#my writing #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn 99 fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #there's a pretty detailed description of a panic attack so if you're sensitive take care!!#<3

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