#But it was like; snatched from me and it IS even more depressing somehow. It was just here you know? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

Note

Thinking about Gyomei who returns from a long string of missions to find his s/o laying down, staring at nothing. Eyes empty, voice apathetic, like a cup with a hole at the bottom, drained of life.

Gyomei's big frame craddling his s/o, rocking back and forth in comfort, trying to breathe more life into his s/o's depressed form, trying to return the warmth stolen by their mind.

Gyomei ready to give up, when his s/o starts to respond to his touch finally...

... after all his cuddles are the best.

- Beer anon 🍻

Who has two thumbs and gets carried away writing about sad boys 👍😎👍

Thank you for this ask. I loved writing about Gyomei and I hope I did him well!

NSFW and unbearable cuteness beneath the cut.

Softer than Mochi- Gyomei x Reader

Gyomei's chin was tilted down as he listened to you. Ordinarily, your voice brought him familiar comfort, but lately he had noticed the sound of it, along with the scent of your skin, was eliciting a new sort of reaction.

It was both unbearably exciting and incredibly uncomfortable.

"Please continue." He shifted his weight as he sat cross-legged on the rocks. His cheeks were getting warm as you told him about your latest mission. "You pursued the demon through the forest?"

You continued speaking, seemingly unaware of his predicament. "Yes. So anyway, the demon almost got away, but I took it down and managed to save the woman it was trying to snatch away. It won't bother anyone again."

"Ah… good. You did well. I'm proud."

There was a slight shift in the air which told him you'd taken a step forward. His heart quickened.

"Thank you," you said. "I couldn't have done it without your training."

Instinctively, Gyomei opened his arms to accept your embrace. You hugged him often, and he enjoyed it every time.

You were so soft and precious to him. Most people felt small to Gyomei– even Tengen Uzui who stood six and a half feet tall and had muscles on muscles felt like a willow branch sometimes.

The stone hashira wrapped you in his arms, breathing in your warm and lovely scent.

"My sweet friend," he whispered as you buried your face against his neck, making his stomach flutter. "Your capabilities come from your strength and determination, not from me. I taught you ways to use your tools, but you were the one who built and refined them. And you have already been given your next mission?"

"Yes." Your voice was filled with a conflicting mix of weariness and determination. The lower ranked slayers such as yourself were always busy taking down weaker demons, while hashira were assigned to the less frequent but more difficult missions. "I have to leave here in an hour in fact. I have a train to catch."

An hour was too little time to spend together, but Gyomei would cherish every moment. "I smell matcha… what is that?"

"I brought you some mochi," you said, placing a paper packet in his large hands.

Gyomei smiled and carefully unwrapped the packet, touching his fingers to the squishy little cakes. They were round, perfectly smooth, and as soft as your cheeks, but each one had two little pointed bumps on top… they felt like ears.

The stone hashira's smile widened. "Are they cat-shaped?"

Your excited laughter was heartwarming music to him. "Yes!"

His chest filled with adoration. "They're almost too cute to eat. Thank you, my dearest friend."

You sat beside him on the rocks, listening to the roaring waterfall and the babbling song of the river. Your hand rested in his, so small and delicate but somehow so warm and profound.

"Please be safe on your mission," Gyomei said. "And inform me when you get back."

His heart leapt as you leaned against him, resting your head on his bicep. "I will. I'll come and find you before I do anything else. You be safe too, Gyo."

When you stood, his heart lamented. The air shifted again and he opened his arms to embrace you, but this time you pressed your lips softly to his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Gyomei had faced countless demons, he had suffered every brutality, but your gentle kiss hit him harder than anything he had ever known before. Your lips were so soft he could have wept.

The tingle of your kiss lingered on his skin long after you left for your mission. Gyomei remained seated where you left him, smiling as he thought of you and ate the mochi you so sweetly made for him. The world, for a little while, was very beautiful.

***

Five days passed before he heard whispers of your return but you did not come to see him as promised.

That was unlike you and it filled Gyomei with concern. He walked the familiar path to your home, trying to calm his mind. There could be a number of explanations; maybe you were asleep, maybe you had been summoned elsewhere… maybe you had only said you would come to see him first to humor him.

He reached your front door and raised his hand to knock, but found only empty space in front of his knuckles. He called out your name and heard only silence. His heart plummeted.

Your door was open and you were not responding. He immediately suspected the worst. But there was no trace of a demon, no sickly scent of death or injury.

"I'm coming in," he said, so as not to scare you.

Your house was silent, and the air had a strange sort of quality. In the past, your home had been a place of comfort for him, but now when he stepped across the threshold he felt a sorrowful weight in his heart.

"Are you here?" He tried to conceal the worry, but it came out anyway. "My friend, speak to me… please."

"Gyo…"

At the sound of your voice his heart leapt. He turned toward the sound and took a step forward.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

"No… I'm sorry I scared you."

You were on the floor.

He crouched close to you, reaching out a hand toward you. "My friend, what has happened? I can hear the pain in your voice."

A heavy silence sat between you. Oh, his heart was aching and he couldn't fathom why. Your voice sounded so empty, so utterly broken. You were sitting on a futon in the center of the room; still and quiet and emanating sorrow. He couldn't hold back from reaching out further and placing his hand upon you. His fingers brushed your forearm and traveled down until he found your hand and held it in his. Somehow you felt smaller… hollow…

He didn't press the issue. You would tell him in your own time. He simply sat with you and held your hand. Gyomei was patient.

After a while you moved. He heard your clothes shuffle, felt the air waft against him as you moved your body.

His heart squeezed as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, and he couldn't refrain from holding you. He wrapped you up in his arms, easing you down to sit in his lap as he surrounded you in his embrace.

You fit so perfectly against him; so small and sacred. He held you with endless love and affection, cradling you in his arms as he rested his chin on top of your head. Something had bruised your sweet spirit, and he would hold you for eternity if he thought it could help you heal.

Finally, you spoke. "I failed, Gyomei. The demon's victims begged me to help and I failed. I couldn't save them."

It was a pain he knew too well, and a pain you would have to make space for in your heart because it would never truly go away.

"I'm sorry. That is never easy."

You pressed yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Please forgive me."

"Oh, little one." His chest ached. He was so bound to your shattering heart that the splinters of it pierced through his own. "How I wish I could take away your pain."

You trembled as silent sobs wracked your body and Gyomei rocked with you. You mourned the lives you hardly knew and he held you through it as though he could shield you from the rest of the world until the grief was gone.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still weeping.

"You are forgiven, my dearest friend." He knew the apology wasn't truly meant for him, but he also knew you needed a seed of forgiveness to allow solace to take root and start to grow.

You cried your tears until you had nothing left. Finally, you grew still and the tension in your body waned.

"You have such a beautiful soul." He unwound one of his arms from around you and wiped away your tears with his thumb. He smiled, "And the softest cheeks."

You laughed quietly and it mended your hearts a little. "Thank you."

"Please do not be sad anymore. Take this pain and use it to help more people."

"Gyomei…" His name was music when it came from your lips. "You're so dear to me. This mission helped me realize I should make sure you know that."

"You are to me too. You're precious."

The gentle touch of your fingers on his jaw made his heart flutter. You traced the shape of his face as he had done to you so many times before.

His pulse raced. The air between you crackled with something unspoken. Your breaths were shallow and shivering as they blew across his lips. Heat prickled on his cheeks and along the column of his neck as he continued to hold you, dipping his chin to he nearer to you. He was inexperienced but not completely naive. Even if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening, he knew you were thinking about kissing him.

He wanted it too.

“I adore you," he managed to whisper.

"I adore you too."

His heart pounded as you traced the outline of his lips with your fingertips. It was the most intimate sensation he had ever felt. Each breath he drew took a tremendous effort and barely reached the top of his lungs. This was unlike him; Gyomei was in tune with every muscle in his body, and yet your tender touch weakened him more than he thought possible.

He released you from his embrace and raised his hands to your face, finding his bearings before he leaned down and closed the distance, kissing you with infinite tenderness.

The moment his lips met yours, you responded, melting against him and kissing him back; so soft and warm it made his entire body ache. His heart was full to bursting as his thoughts tumbled like a landslide. Your lips were even softer than your cheeks, softer than mochi, warmer than sunlight.

The kiss seemed to breathe life back into you, and almost at once there was a new passion and hunger which he had sometimes dreamed of experiencing. But never once did he actually believe he could share it with you. You stole his breath away.

When the kiss broke, you showered his face in smaller, more chaste, but no less lovely kisses. Gyomei felt himself smile as his hands trailed down your back.

"Tell me, cherished one," he said quietly, "just so I don't run away with myself. Is this simply to feel good and numb your pain, or is this truly how you feel?"

Thank the gods that the silence afterward was only momentary. His heart couldn't stand it.

"It's how I feel," you responded, caressing the sides of his face with both hands and giving him goosebumps. "Gyo… this is why I come to you after every mission to embrace you and hold your hands. This is why I make cat-shaped mochi for you. I thought you knew I love you."

His heart was about to burst from his chest and his smile could not be contained. "Ah… yes, now that I consider it, it seems obvious."

You laughed. "My sweet Gyo."

"My most beloved, I am yours."

You kissed him again. Though it had only been moments since the last one, relief coursed through him as he drew from that sweet warmth and softness.

Your hands explored his shape, traversing the neckline of his shirt to the very top of his chest. While not vain, Gyomei was proud of his strength and the muscles he worked so hard to hone. Your quiet hum of approval sounded against his lips as your fingers touched his pectorals. It filled him with pride.

A breathless, tingling sensation coursed through his body as your touches grew bolder and your kisses increased in intensity. The sensation of your hands brushing his bare skin caused a sensation not unlike you were tugging a chord connected to his core.

"Am I moving too fast?" You asked, still resting your forehead against his as though it was as painful for you to be apart as it was for him.

"Not at all. Continue, please." Heat pickled across his cheeks, far more intense than any sunbeam.

"You're blushing," you whisper before taking his hand and leading it toward your face, brushing your cheeks with the back of his fingers. "I'm blushing too."

He smiled. "I feel it. You're so warm."

He felt you smile back beneath his fingers and then your hand left his. He heard the soft rustle of fabric, the quickening of your breath, and then you took his hand and led it down to your bare chest.

"Oh…" he choked out.

Nothing in the world could compare to the smooth warmth of your body beneath his large, battle-hewn hands. You were silk to him, lotus petals, mochi, the gentle flow of a sun-warmed stream. His chest ached. Your beauty was overwhelming.

The way you bowed to his tender caresses pulled once more at that chord. When he brushed his thumb over the hardening bud of your nipple and elicited a soft sigh of pleasure from you, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Tingling excitement rolled through his lower belly as your hands went to the fastening of his trousers. Gods, he wanted this, he did… but as inexperienced as he was, there were certain facts he was very aware of.

“We must be patient,” he said. “I need to ensure you are ready.”

“Believe me, Gyo, I’m ready.” You kissed him again with renewed passion, running your fingers through his hair and sending more little shocks of pleasure through him.

Gyomei smiled as you pulled back from the kiss, placing his hands over yours to halt your progress. “You’re not ready enough.”

“What do… oh… OH.” You had no doubt noticed the bulge forming in his trousers. “I see. You’re–”

“Large.” He pulled in a breath. “I’m very large. And I don't want to hurt you." Slipping his hand over the curve of your waist, he pressed a kiss to the plush softness of your chest. "If you wish to continue then I ask that you permit me to prepare your body to…receive me."

"I want to continue." You kissed him again, your tongue entering his mouth and slowly teasing his; pulling a gravelly moan from his lips. When you withdrew, you stood and he heard the soft rustle of cloth once more as you removed the rest of your clothing. You took his hands and led them to your bare thighs. "Please touch me."

His pulse thundered as he skated his hands along the curves of your body, committing every soft hill and luxurious valley of your shape to memory. Every touch was an act of profound worship, and every sweet sound of pleasure which came from you was an answer to a prayer.

"Beloved, lie down for me," he said softly. "I want you to be comfortable."

You did as he asked, lying back on your futon.

Just knowing that you were before him, laid out and feeling as nervous and as excited as he was, made his heart flutter. He undressed fully before he let his hands stroke the lengths of your thighs, down to your center where the heat radiated from you in intoxicating waves.

"Please tell me if I'm doing well or not," he asked. His voice was quiet and shaking a little with trepidation. "I've never… well, I've received a little bit of instruction on how to do these things but never put them into practice. So please…"

"I will." You placed your hand on his and with gentle pressure, urged him to touch you.

Your tender flesh was like nothing he had ever felt before. His breath caught in his throat as his fingers mapped out the shape. You were so warm and wet, and the scent of you was truly intoxicating. You made such lovely sounds of pleasure as he slid his fingers through your folds, coating them in your essence. He traced their shape upward, to where they seemed to converge over your delicate, swollen bud.

"There," you gasped as he circled his fingers around it. "That's…"

"Your clitoris," he said with a smile. "I know… I told you, I've had instruction."

At the time he had thought Uzui's lessons were wasted on him, but he had committed the information to memory nonetheless. Now, as your hips bucked and your thighs trembled from the gentlest touches, he had every intention of thanking Uzui from the bottom of his heart.

"Gyo-mei~" you gasped as he stroked your clit with his thumb and pushed a thick finger into you. Oh, gods, the heat, the silken flesh, the slick coating of your nectar, like sun-ripened fruit. He wanted so badly to sink into you and feel his body connected to yours. But he would be patient. He would ensure you were completely ready before he satiated his needs.

A wave of heat washed over him as you bore down on his finger, eager and demanding even without words.

"Is it good?"

"'S… good…"

"Do you want more, my beloved?"

"Yes…" your breaths came in short gasps. "More."

He pushed a second finger into you, pausing as you cried out, allowing your body to accommodate them. His fingers, like everything else, were large.

He waited until you began to thrust onto them again and took that as a sign that you were ready.

Gently, he began to move his fingers, pumping them into you slowly as his thumb continued to rub your clitoris. His heart quickened as he felt your inner muscles begin to contract and spasm.

"Don't stop," you whispered.

"I won't."

You came apart seconds later, gasping and shuddering as those muscles pulsed around his fingers. You squeezed them so beautifully, and imagining that sensation on his cock was enough to make him lightheaded.

But he still had work to do. "Can you take more?"

You placed your hand on his thigh. "Yes."

A blissful cry emerged from you as he added a third finger, gently stretching you.

"Gods, Gyomei~"

"Breathe, beloved. Breathe and relax. I will stop if you wish me too."

"Never."

He chuckled before spreading his fingers slightly, opening you up and readying you. "If I could only express the true depth of my feelings for you." He bowed his head, kissing your stomach with slow, lingering kisses as he continued to pump his fingers into you.

You were so receptive to his touches, moaning softly as you placed your hand on his wrist, as if to hold it down between your thighs. It was a reassuring gesture that he was pleasing you. That's all he truly desired.

He felt your muscles quiver again and you cried out his name. His cock stood firm, aching with need as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

"I think you are ready." He spoke softly, kneeling back a little. "If you still–"

"I do. Gyomei… I absolutely do."

You got up and sat astride his thighs as he knelt on the bottom of the futon. This was good. It was exactly what he wanted. He needed you to be in control now, setting the depth and intensity.

Your lips brushed against his as you cupped his face. The bare skin of your torso was so soft and delicate against his large frame. He wound his arms around you and met your kiss, slow and passionate and filled with love.

Shifting in his lap, you positioned yourself so the head of his cock was pressed against your entrance. He felt a brief stab of worry that he hadn't prepared you well enough, that he had been too hasty and would hurt you, but a moment later you took him with nothing more than a breathy moan.

"Gyomei… Gods you feel incredible."

Oh there was nothing that could describe that feeling of sinking into you. A needy groan escaped him as he pressed his head to your shoulder and breathed in the scent of you, trying to ground himself. He was lost in the sensation.

"I love you," you whispered, kissing his lips so gently it seemed you felt he was fragile and precious.

"I love you too, my everything."

He had never felt so connected to anyone. Mind, body, soul, he was yours. He groaned in pleasure as you undulated your hips, taking him deeper inch by inch, stopping to give you both time to adjust and bask in the sensation.

"Does it hurt, my love?" he asked, unable to shake the tinge of concern from his mind or his voice.

"No. No, we fit together perfectly." You kissed his neck, sending a frisson of pleasure traveling down his body where it pooled in the bottom of his belly.

People often spoke of the beauty of stars; pinpricks of light shimmering among velvet darkness, and he felt he understood that with you. Those shimmering sparks danced across skin, overwhelming him in the best possible way.

Pressure built at his core as you rode him, your hands resting on his shoulders, your soft body moving against his. You were taking him well, better than he had ever dared to hope you could.

The slow rhythm of your movements, the constant pleasure, the intimacy… It was too much. He grit his teeth and choked out a cry.

"Beloved… I'm…"

"Let it happen, Gyo. You've more than satisfied me. Let go…"

You kept on moving to that slow, loving rhythm, building the exquisite pressure which ran through his core, growing and growing until he was barely clinging to his senses.

His fingers gripped your hips with more strength than he ever meant to use with you, holding you to him as his pleasure reached an almost unbearable peak.

"Ohh, beloved… perfect… so~ ohhh…so perfect."

He filled you entirely, lowering his head to press his cheek to yours as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and clung to you.

"I have you," you whispered as you held him, stroking his back as he trembled in your arms.

He knew he could be like this with you for as long as he needed to be. As wave after wave of pleasure rocked through his body, he sank down into your arms, pressing you back until you were lying on the futon and he reclined on his hip beside you, nestling his head against your chest.

Your heart thudded against his ear, beating to a rhythm you had set together.

His lips curved as you stroked your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head and sighing in contentment.

In that moment, and in every moment he shared with you, the stone hashira's heart was softer than mochi.

And the world was forever beautiful.

#demon slayer gyomei #gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima #kny gyomei #gyomei x you #gyomei x y/n #gyomei smut

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darylas · 23 days

Text

Chapter 3 - Ghost of a Chance

John "Bucky" Egan x singer!fem!reader first ♫ previous ♫ next ao3

You go on a double date to distract yourself from thoughts of Bucky, a task made more difficult when he is sitting in the same pub.

4.2k words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Non-consensual use of drugs, Attempted sexual assault, Mild violence

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

A/N: Please read the warnings! MAJOR tone shift coming in from the north. I promise next chapter will be lighter!

“So, how long have you been in merry old England?”

“Less than a month, though it doesn’t feel that way,” you answered, swiping your thumb across the condensation that had formed quickly on your glass in the humidity of the pub. You were sat across from Lieutenant Tom Foyle, a pilot in the 351st. His dark hair was styled neatly with pomade, his handsome face clean-shaven. Next to you sat Millicent “Millie” Vance, another Red Cross girl who had somehow roped you into being one-fourth of a double date.

“Oh? Does it feel longer or shorter?” Tom asked. He seemed genuinely interested in your answer, as he had with everything you’d said that evening. He had kind, curious green eyes that made you feel like the only person in the room.

You looked down at your glass, half empty. “Both. Neither. To be completely honest I’m not quite sure. The work gets so repetitive that time seems to stand still some days, but other times it feels as though the clock is ticking faster than a runaway train. I suppose there’s nothing like war to make time feel rather short.” You gave Tom a reassuring smile, ending your little monologue before it grew any more depressing and soured the whole evening. “Sorry,” you said, holding up your glass. “It appears that gin makes me a tad melancholy.”

The blond pilot sitting across from Millie spoke up. “That’s funny, it makes me giddy. Of course, that could just be our present company.” He leaned forward, addressing Millie. “I told Tom that you had to be the prettiest girl this side of the ocean.”

Millie grinned and replied, “Glad we’re not on the other side of the ocean, then,” causing the pilot, Dan, to let out a surprised wheeze of laughter.

While Dan continued his boisterous flirting, saying something about Millie having wit as well as looks, Tom leaned toward you, filling your nostrils with the pleasant scent of his aftershave. He smirked and said in a low voice, “I believe his exact words to me were, ‘What a dish!’.”

You chuckled softly, pleasantly surprised that you were actually enjoying yourself. “I suppose we can’t all be Humphrey Bogart.”

“Sure, we can.” Tom cocked his head slightly to the side and spoke with Bogart’s deep and gravelly voice. “We’ll always have Paris.”

You laughed as he sat back in his chair with a smile. “You saw Casablanca?” you asked him.

“Yep, right before flying over. I’d go see movies whenever I could.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Used to think I could be an actor. Wouldn’t that be something? Seeing yourself on the big screen?” He certainly had the looks for it.

“Maybe after the war, you could pursue an acting career. I’m sure Hollywood would snatch you right up.” Tom smiled bashfully at the compliment. “I actually wanted to be in movies myself when I was younger. Particularly musicals. I’m not much of a dancer but hell, neither is Bing Crosby, and he gets away with it.” You took another sip of gin, inwardly wincing. It was stronger than the drinks you normally favored, but Dan had ordered a round for the table. You had never liked when a man ordered food or drink for a woman, but you didn’t want to embarrass Millie by declining.

“I’d see your films over Bing’s any day,” responded Tom, who managed to combine flirtation and authenticity with such ease that you were beginning to feel skeptical. You couldn’t help but glance toward the back of the pub, where Major Egan had been sitting with some of the other men for the past hour. You were surprised to find him looking right back at you. He gave you a small smile and a subtle nod. No wink, no devilish grin. Curious. Reflexively, you smiled back, then looked away.

Much to your annoyance, John Egan had begun to appear in your thoughts almost regularly and uninvited. Ever since that night at the club, he had gotten under your skin like a persistent itch. An egotistical, irritating, handsome, intriguing itch. You kept these thoughts to yourself, as you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his asinine attempt to insult you into a conversation almost worked. By the same token, you were still wary of him, knowing his track record with women.

You knew, not so deep down, that you had agreed to come on this double date to distract yourself and perhaps meet someone else to occupy your thoughts. Someone like Tom, who picked up his glass and said, “To our Tinseltown dreams, then.”

You clinked your glass with his and said, “To Bing Crosby and his two left feet.”

Millie spoke up. “You know, our Red Cross canary here sings an old Bing song just beautifully. The one from that short with Mary Kornman. Anyone who’s ever made coffee and doughnuts with this one in the morning has heard her sing it.”

You shrugged one shoulder. “Anything to distract me from throwing that blasted doughnut machine out the window. I swear, my poor old Zippo is more reliable than that thing.”

“I thought you said your lighter doesn’t work anymore,” said Millie.

“Exactly,” you replied, to the laughter of your companions.

Tom, with laughter still in his voice, looked at you and said, “I’d sure love to hear you sing it sometime. After all, when some bigshot movie producer calls to ask me about your talents, I want to give him an accurate description.”

Dan scoffed. “Why would a movie producer call you about her?”

Tom lightly smacked his friend on the shoulder. “Why would anyone call you about anything?”

Dan’s blond mustache twitched as he smirked. “You’re hilarious. Anybody ever tell you what a gasser you are?”

There was a brief pause, during which your traitorous eyes suddenly flicked back to that table in the back of the pub. Major Egan was not looking at you this time, his attention currently fixed on his friend Lieutenant Curtis Biddick while he seemed to be mimicking various boxing forms. Egan laughed and hollered with the rest of the men at the table. He looked younger when he laughed, less like a commanding officer and more like a carefree young man. You assumed he shouldered a great many cares, and that the weight of them would only increase as the war continued. The humidity of the pub had caused a few curls to come loose over his forehead, the fire behind him giving his skin a warm glow.

“I’m sure the pianist knows it,” said Millie, breaking you out of what you could only describe as a trance before the Major caught you staring.

“Knows what?” you asked, praying to high heaven you weren’t blushing.

“The song! You could sing it here!”

“Oh, Millie, please. Most of these boys hear far too much of my caterwauling back at base. They come here to get away from that. Besides, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m in the middle of a date.” You gestured between yourself and Tom.

Tom smiled. “As much as I’m enjoying said date, I think the one thing it’s missing is a beautiful song sung by a beautiful lady. And I think all the guys in here would agree with me.”

“I don’t think they would-”

“What, you want me to take a poll?” asked Millie, teasingly. “Dan, sweetie, would you mind?”

Alright, maybe she wasn’t teasing. Dan stood up and shouted, “Gentlemen! Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” His question was answered with a chorus of affirmative shouts and whistles from around the pub.

Tom looked at you and grinned. “Sounds like you better head over there.”

You grinned back and let out a resigned huff of breath before standing up. “I suppose orders are orders, Lieutenant.”

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky heard your laughter from across the pub. His eyes immediately turned towards you as the sound reached him, his instincts taking over before his thoughts could catch up. He’d seen you walk in with one of the pilots in the 351st, decked out and chatting with Millie Vance. You were smiling at that pilot now; not the plastered-on, rehearsed, all-American smile he had grown used to seeing at Thorpe Abbotts. This was the real thing, and it was beautiful. What would he give to be the reason for that smile? To be the one to make you laugh like that?

He would fly through a thousand miles of flak.

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. He might just be the most pathetic man in the entire fucking world.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was so keen on someone. You had to be some sort of siren, luring him out to sea with your alluring voice, only to drag him down, down, down, to the depths of the ocean. He was surprised to find he didn’t mind. With a barely concealed smirk, he realized that being eaten alive by you would not be a terrible way to die.

You had glanced his way once or twice, no doubt feeling his eyes on you. He had tried to look away, to focus on the stories told around the table, but he simply couldn’t help himself. His gaze kept falling back on you. He had never seen you without your Red Cross uniform, and the dress you were wearing had clearly been custom-designed to drive him crazy.

Bucky was grateful for Curt’s loud voice and enthusiasm as he talked about boxing. The distraction was a welcome one, though he supposed that you were the true distraction in this case and not the other way around.

“I can’t believe Buck didn’t come,” said Curt, finishing off his whiskey. “He knows exactly what I’m talkin’ about. The high guard stance ain’t shit in the ring. It’s all about-”

“Gentlemen!” called a voice from across the pub. “Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” The place was filled with the sound of whoops and hollers from nearly every table. Bucky watched you grin at your date–Foyle–and stand up before walking to the piano.

Curt didn’t miss a beat before saying, “Uh oh. Look out boys, you might see Bucky cry. The music really gets to’m.”

“Yeah, the music’s lookin’ like a solid sender in that dress,” said Hambone, earning a round of laughter from the table.

Bucky smiled good-naturedly, used to the ribbing at this point. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. Since when is a guy not allowed to appreciate a beautiful dame, huh?”

"Bucky, you've been eyeing her all night," Jack interjected. "You stare at her more than Douglass stares at that photo of Betty Grable he keeps in his pocket." Another round of laughs. Bucky took a long sip of whiskey as Curt patted him on the back with a grin.

He watched you lean down to speak softly to the pianist before standing up straight and clearing your throat. “Don’t you boys hear enough of me as it is? I don’t know what’s gotten into you; well, I suppose I have some idea,” you said, tapping your nail against someone’s glass to make a plinking sound. The crowd laughed, many raising their drinks. “I’m going to sing an old song, but I asked my new friend Alan here to keep it short. I have a drink of my own I’d like to get back to.”

Next to him, Curt laughed before leaning over and saying, “She might be too much of a firecracker for your sorry ass.” Bucky elbowed him in the arm, making him laugh harder. As the pianist started playing a slow, pleasant melody, Curt leaned in again and said, “Or…she just might be perfect for your sorry ass.” Bucky furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at his friend, who smirked and shrugged. “What? I get sappy when I drink.” Bucky didn’t have time to reply before you began to sing.

I need your love so badly

I love you, oh, so madly

But I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You sauntered between the tables as you sang, the patrons smiling up at you. Bucky preferred when you sang slower songs like this one, the drawn-out notes more sensuous and poignant. As you came within ten feet of his table, you stopped moving. Your eyes met his and lingered for a moment as you continued your song. He was spellbound.

I thought at last I'd found you

But other loves surround you

And I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You walked back to the piano, leaning elegantly against it as you finished the last line of the song. Applause rang throughout the pub and you nodded graciously before shouting, “How about my new friend, our amazing pianist, Mr. Alan Bennett?” The applause and shouts continued as you said “Thank you; enjoy your evening,” then headed back to your seat.

When Bucky saw you smile once again, genuinely, at Foyle, the spell was broken. No, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that smile yet, but your shared moment just now gave him a glimpse of hope. You had looked at him differently then, not with contempt or that devastating neutrality from before, but with something else.

Christ, he really was pathetic, knowing that look would be all he thought about for the rest of the night. He deserved the boys’ ragging, as well as another glass of whiskey.

═════ ♫ ═════

You listened to Millie tell an amusing story about an old neighbor back home as you finished your drink. Even though you weren’t currently talking, you noticed Tom stealing frequent glances at you. You smiled encouragingly at him before fanning yourself with a napkin, the heat in the pub somehow having gotten worse.

As Millie continued her story, your thoughts drifted to Major Egan. When your eyes met his grey ones during the song, you were struck by the tenderness and reverence in his gaze. He hadn’t looked at you like a prize, like an object to be used until he grew bored of it. You had held that gaze for longer than you intended; it didn’t change, but you felt like you did.

For that brief moment, no more than five seconds, you were no longer in the pub, but somewhere else entirely. You weren’t sure exactly where you were during this momentary lapse of reality, but you knew you had gotten there through his eyes. You had always heard of getting lost in someone’s eyes, but in that moment, you didn’t feel lost. Instead, you felt as though you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Perhaps you had been too quick to judge him.

Perhaps you should get to know him better.

Perhaps it had just been a man watching a woman while she sang.

All of these confusing thoughts were beginning to give you a headache.

In fact, the noise of the pub seemed to grow louder by the second, and the lights seemed to get brighter. You squinted.

“Honey, are you alright?” asked Millie. You hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking. You gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I think the crowded room is getting to me. I might need to step outside for a moment; get some fresh air.” You scooted your chair away from the table.

Both men stood as you did so. Tom pushed in his chair and came around to your side of the table, looking concerned. “Can I accompany you outside? I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course. I’d appreciate it, actually.” You looked at Millie. “We’ll be right back.”

As you stood up, you lost your balance and braced your hands on the table, causing the legs to make a loud noise as they shifted. You flushed with embarrassment as multiple patrons looked in your direction, some sniggering to each other. Millie put a delicate hand on your arm. “Are you sure you’re alright? I think we need to head back.”

You waved her off. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just stood up too fast. A few minutes of fresh air and I’ll be good as new. Don’t you dare move; this is your one night out. I’m fine.”

Millie continued to look at you with skepticism and concern, but Tom offered you his arm and you took it, walking toward the front of the pub with slow, deliberate steps.

Suddenly, you were outside the pub, still holding on tight to Tom’s arm. You breathed in the night air, hoping it would clear your head. It didn’t.

“Feel any better?” asked Tom.

You looked at him and were alarmed to see that you were no longer outside the front entrance, but alone with him around the side of the building. You couldn’t remember how you got there, but Tom’s arm was still in your grasp. You continued to cling to it, as your dizziness had gotten worse and you were afraid you might fall flat on your face if you let go.

“No, I….don’t,” you answered, having difficulty forming the words. This sudden ailment was clearly something that needed more than fresh air to fix, and you knew it was time to call it a night. Could you really be this drunk? Yes, the gin had been stronger than what you normally drank, but you only had one glass.

Tom looked at you with concern. “I’m so sorry. Are you feeling well enough for the trip back? It would probably be safer to book you a room for the night.” He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I think I’d like to…to go back to base and get in bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked softly, brushing the backs of his fingers down your bare arm.

“Nnnn…no.” The pain in your head was worsening, your mind telling you that you needed to leave. Now.

Tom spoke your name, his voice still soft. “I think that you and I go together so well. You’re incredibly witty, charming, and so lovely.” You felt him stroke the side of your face. You went to push his hand away, but it was gone when you lifted your hand to your face. “I’m curious to see if our compatibility goes beyond the conversational level, aren’t you?”

When you looked at him again, your head spinning with the effort, his handsome face still held the same charm and sincerity from before.

“Tom, I want to leave. Right now!” You wrenched yourself free from his grasp and turned toward the street. Your movements had been too sudden and you stumbled forward, haphazardly throwing your hands out to avoid falling on your face. You closed your eyes and braced for the feeling of asphalt on your palms, but it never came. When you opened your eyes, you saw the dark olive drab of a military uniform and felt strong arms around you. Of course Tom had easily caught you. You prepared to scream for help—

“The hell is going on out here?”

The person who’d caught you hadn’t been Tom. It was that major. He stood with you still limp in his arms, Millie close behind him looking panicked.

He looked at you, then at Tom, then back at you, his expression quickly morphing from confusion to alarm. You must have been quite a sight.

With urgency in his voice, he spoke your name. “Are you alright? What’s the matter?”

You stood up, another wave of dizziness crashing over you as Millie rushed to help you. “I think I’m…quite unwell, Mister…sorry, Major…” You looked at him quizzically, his name escaping you. Why couldn’t you think of his name? His face had been in your thoughts constantly over the past few days.

The man reluctantly removed his arms from around you and allowed Millie to support you. “It’s Bucky. But you still only call me Major Egan, remember?” He looked terribly worried, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to address it. Your only concern right now was getting away from Tom and into bed. You were so tired. When you didn’t respond to him, stumbling once more into Millie, his expression changed again to one of fury. He turned toward Tom, who had begun inching his way out of sight.

Bucky moved fast enough to exacerbate your dizziness, grabbing Tom by the lapels of his jacket and shoving him against the wall. “You put somethin’ in her drink? Did you do this to her?” The quiet, menacing calm of his voice was a stark contrast to his violent actions.

Tom had the good sense to look frightened for a moment, before flashing his handsome smile at the seething major. “I was just offering to escort her back to base,” he said. “Clearly the poor thing can’t take her liquor. I didn’t do a damn thing to her drink.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” replied Bucky, before he let go of Tom’s jacket and punched him in the face. Hard. Millie shrieked.

Tom fell to the ground in a graceless heap, his nose bleeding and misshapen. Putting a hand up to his nose, he yelled, “What the hell was-”

“You need to get the fuck out of here right now or your nose won’t be the only thing I break tonight.” Bucky’s fist was clenched, blood on the knuckles. Tom scrambled away and was soon out of sight.

Bucky turned back toward you and Millie. “She needs to see a doctor,” he said to your friend.

Millie let out a sigh and replied with a tired voice. “No, she doesn’t; not right now anyway.”

Bucky gestured furiously at you. “Look at her!” You frowned and looked away.

Millie spoke with a cold gravity you had never heard from her before. “I see her, Bucky, and unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this. I know how to help, and I’m taking her back to base. Her symptoms should be gone tomorrow, but she needs rest.”

Bucky said nothing for several seconds, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He said quickly, “Alright. Fine. But if anything, anything, seems off, you take her straight to Smokey, understand?”

“I understand. I’ll take her tomorrow, just to make sure everything’s okay.” Millie began leading you toward the front of the building and the street, with Bucky following close behind. Eventually you were back in front of the pub.

Bucky looked at you, began to reach toward you, then put his hand in his pocket. “Let me take you home. Or would a room here be better?”

You stiffened.

“Excuse me?” you said, your head pounding.

Bucky looked taken aback at your sudden tone. “I just wondered if it would be better for you to get a room here for the night so you can rest.”

Son of a bitch.

You pointed a finger at his chest, missing and poking his shoulder. “You. Is this what you wanted?”

Bucky furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What are you talking about? You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I saw you. I saw you looking at us…looking at mm..me. Was this part of your plan?”

Millie, who had her arm looped through yours, put a hand on your shoulder and said, “Honey, I know you’re confused, it’s not your f-”

“Did you think that you would play the knight in shining armor and that...that I would fall into your arms, overcome with- with gratitude? You thought I would g..go to bed with you?” Bucky shook his head vehemently and opened his mouth to speak, but you kept going. “I knew it. I knew that a dance would never just be a dance with you. I knew it.” You swayed, but Millie tightened her hold on you and you stayed upright. “I knew it,” you said to her.

She rubbed your back soothingly. “Okay, honey. Let’s get you in bed, alright?” She turned to Bucky and spoke so quietly you couldn’t hear her over the noise of the music inside. You watched as Bucky nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. He looked back at you, nothing but concern in his eyes. But that’s how Tom had looked.

Fighting the pain at the front of your skull and the increasing urge to vomit in the nearest waste bin, you let go of Millie’s arm and took a wobbly step toward him. He removed his hands from his pockets, ready to catch you again, but you stayed upright. You said to him in a low voice, “I think you’re despicable.” The major said nothing, still watching you with the same worried look on his face. Inside the pub, you heard the pianist start playing “Blue Skies”, followed by at least two shouts of Bucky’s name. “Sounds like you’re missing your ‘signature song,’ Major. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

With that, you allowed Millie to once again wind her arm through yours and lead you away from the pub, hopefully on a path toward your bed. She sighed. “Don’t worry, I told him you didn’t mean a word you said.” You frowned at her, confused. “I’m so sorry; if I had any idea that Tom was such a…” She sighed again. “Never mind. It does no good to apologize to you now when you won’t remember it. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

As you made your way back to your barracks, fighting sleep the whole way, all you could think of was a slow song and two grey eyes staring into yours.

#guys i wasn't kidding about the tone shift but I promise things will get better!#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john bucky egan #john egan #mota #masters of the air #mota fic #callum turner #reader insert #fanfiction #Spotify

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superstar-nan · 3 months

Text

Fight Tooth and Nail: Ch 6

Summary: You argue with Michael, find a crucial clue while looking at old photos with him, and decide to drop by Springtrap for a visit.

Words: 4,957

Fun stuff: Descriptions of undead bodies. Not many warnings this time around (for once).

───── (\ /) ─────

You woke strangely well-rested. Even in the haze of waking up you knew you should’ve felt exhausted and depleted, but you were oddly energized.

You sat up, propping yourself up one arm at a time. You looked up at Michael, who was tapping away, engrossed in keeping you two alive. You looked at the clock. It was almost the end of his shift. After being electrocuted, you passed out next to his swivel seat. That was disappointing, since you found nothing. You searched the entire place and found nothing .

Well, you didn’t check the other vent, but you weren’t that stupid.

Or were you...

No, you weren’t. At least not tonight.

You reached back aimlessly and snatched the control panel. Michael looked annoyed, but too busy to stop you from helping him. You began tapping on the panel, and you took a little pride in seeing the corpse’s shoulders ease in tension. The least you could do was to help ease the burden, even if just a little.

After setting into a comfortable rhythm, you noticed the dull aches in your arm and legs. You rolled your arm experimentally, the one you had twisted to pull the taser against the vent, felt pulled but not strained. You were happy about that. You were less happy with your legs, who were crusted with dried blood from where the rotted Bonnie had grabbed you with his claws. Inspecting them, the wounds weren’t deep but you would still scrub them endlessly. Plus, you would have to get a tetanus shot.

Then your gaze fell to your other hand. The one the animatronic held gently in a mock form of intimacy. It wasn’t injured in the slightest, but you wish it had been. You wished you could burn the skin off your palm where that featherlight touch held you, and you wished that after setting your own hand aflame it would somehow start his, burning him to death. Metal and rot interlocking your fingers filled your mind with angry obsession and it was the only thing you could think about. Metal and rot and metal and rot and metal and rot and metal and-

“Audio,” Michael whispered, and it snapped you out of your hatred. You tapped the ventilation with the hand that was burning with the animatronics.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head against Michael’s thigh. Michael’s own tapping stalled for a second, and his flesh depressed under the pressure of your head like memory foam (which should’ve caused flips in your stomach, but you were getting used to Michael’s state of undeath). You wondered if you were hurting him and almost lifted your head, but he resumed his checking, so you did as well.

You knew all this anger and hatred wasn’t healthy, and the fact that the killer enjoyed your hatred was even more of a warning. But it was easy . You had all this grief and fear, and if you didn’t weaponize it then it would eat you alive. You couldn’t think of the fate of your best friend because you were too busy looking for them. You couldn’t have your heart broken by their disappearance because your heart was being used to spit hatred at the one who hurt them. You couldn’t fear for their or your own safety because you were too busy fighting the thing threatening them in the first place.

In a sick twist of fate, you were glad that the animatronic was there, and wasn’t some murdered child you had to pity or a robot with no sense of morality. He was terrible, and that meant you could hate him instead of hating yourself for missing your best friend’s call when they needed you most.

The ding-dong of Michael’s alarm startled you. You looked up at the corpse as he turned off the alarm. His shift was over. You lived another night, and were still no closer to finding out what happened to them.

“You lied to me,” Michael whispered.

You checked your phone, head still resting on Michael’s thigh. The new security guard would show up soon. “You want to talk about this now? Can’t we talk when we get home?”

He scoffed, “You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you stay with me again?”

“Why not?” You tilted your head up to match his void eyes, “I’m going to keep coming back, whether you help me or not.”

He growled under his breath, a low rumble deep in his throat that sounded more discontent than threatening, “There’s the honesty...”

You went back to tapping your phone, “You wouldn’t have told me what was going on if I said I was coming back.”

“ Obviously! ” He snapped, jostling you from your ‘pillow’, “To keep you safe! ”

“I came prepared,” You stood up, stretching your legs and popping your shoulders. “You can’t say my toy distractions weren’t clever.”

“Oh yeah, so clever,” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like acid. “So clever, in fact, that you weren’t almost killed in the vent.”

You wanted to be grateful he saved you, yet again. You wanted to make it up to him or show him your appreciation, you really did. But he was making it unbearably hard. “I had that handled.”

He was so dumbfounded, he stopped putting on his mask and turned to you. You tried hard not to sweat.

You broke under the pressure of his stare, “I almost had it handled.”

He put his mask down—you really must’ve made him annoyed if he would ignore the risk of being seen just to prove a point—and forcefully pushed a few buttons, before hitting one final button and leaning back in his chair, looking at you pointedly.

You tilted your head in question, then he nodded to the camera. It was the vent, but it was empty. The timestamp said 0:54 with the seconds counting and the day’s date.

Then you heard your own voice, “CLOSE THE VENT MICHAEL!”

He stopped the tape and crossed his arms. Well, that was embarrassing.

“...The security footage is taped?” You asked, “Can I see previous nights?”

“ Not the point ,” He hissed through his teeth. “ You are so blind to-! ”

“Whoa, lovers quarrel?” The day shift security guard knocked on the door frame. Good thing, too. You were worried a second there that your recorded cry for help would attract the animatronic, even after the night shift ended.

Michael swiveled away from the day shift guard, rushing for his mask, while you stood up to block the view. “Honestly, he’s so mean to me. He doesn’t like my taste in breakfast diners.” You said in a playful tone, “You should tell him to be nice to his partner.”

The day shift guard laughed sociably as Michael stood and grabbed his backpack, “I’m sure the diner they picked isn’t that bad, Mike.”

Michael hummed noncommittally while you interlocked your fingers with his. You held his hand with the untouched hand, with the hand the animatronic didn’t caress with violence and hunger. You did that on purpose.

The day shift guard cleared his throat, “Or maybe their taste isn’t so great...” That seemed like it had double meaning.

“See you tomorrow,” You waved at the day shift guard as you left with Michael, who stared daggers into you. You raised your eyebrows at him in response.

When the door shut behind you, the sunrise was too bright but welcome all the same. You felt the relief of fresh air and warmth that you missed while in the building. Somehow, it even relieved you of your hatred, worries, and grief—if just for one moment.

Michael swiped his hand back, “ ‘See you tomorrow?’ ” He said, his voice like gravel and ash.

“I’m coming back,” You said adamantly, your eyes narrowing at him as you stuffed your hands in your pockets to fish for your keys.

He growled your name in a warning tone, but you interrupted him.

“ I’m coming back. ” You settled your voice to be more firm, “And I’ll keep coming back, whether we work together or not.” You pulled out your keys. “We could help each other. I could help you kill-”

“You don’t know what I want.” He interrupted you, and you closed your mouth. He was right, you didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t want to kill his dad at all? From the way he talked about him, there didn’t seem to be any love lost, but maybe you misread the situation? Or maybe he just didn’t know how?

“You’re right. I don’t,” You swallowed, “But if you told me-”

He exhaled, exaggerated and annoyed, grabbing the keys from your hands. You held up your hands in offended confusion. He nodded down at your legs. They were covered in crusted blood and five superficial lacerations each, one for each rotten claw.

“I can still drive?” You said, appalled by the audacity. Sure, you definitely needed him to drive when you had a concussion, but some scratches on your legs? You had worse injuries from using a cutting knife.

He didn’t even acknowledge your protest while he opened the door to the driver's seat, muttering, “They’re gonna think I abuse you.”

When he closed the car door, you saw your reflection in the window: the bruise around your collar like a necklace. You smothered the flame of rage in your heart as you stalked to the passenger’s side, slamming the door closed behind you.

───── (\ /) ─────

You handed Michael his soda you picked up on the way back to his place, which he snatched out of your hand and practically dropped on the counter.

“If you’re not going to leave Fazbear’s Fright alone, you need to follow one rule,” He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the counter, staring at you with stern voids. “It’s getting exhausting having to save your life every night.”

You held your hands up to surrender as you sat on his table, crossing your legs. “Alright, fair enough.”

His first rule was quick, “Don’t wander around the pizzeria.”

Your response was quicker, “No.”

“Do you want to die?” He snapped.

“No,” You uncrossed your legs and leaned forward. “But the rotted Bonnie-”

“ Spring Bonnie .”

“-Whatever! Has my only clue to my best friend’s disappearance.”

“Here’s your clue. Your friend is-” One piercing look from you, and Michael decidedly changed what he was going to say, “-not at Fazbear’s Fright.”

“Exactly, and that phone is the only clue I have for what happened to them.”

Michael groaned, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“I can help you too, you know.” You said, “There’s a reason you haven’t left Fazbear’s Fright. Let me help.”

“You want to help me?” You nodded, “Stay in the office and work the maintenance panel.”

You could’ve hit him in the head, but you didn’t, gracefully . Instead, you hopped off the table and said, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Don’t use all my soap this time,” He said, his void eyes following your leaving figure.

You just waved him off in response.

As steam fogged the mirror, you looked at your hands. They were covered in filth and grime, and one of them you wanted to burn away. You clenched them into fists as you looked up to your blurring reflection.

You pulled out your phone. You replayed the voice message aloud, and your heart felt like it was caved in. Could you have done anything if you were there? Probably not, but it did make you wish you could’ve been Michael for them. That you could’ve saved them with the two of you narrowly escaping the haunted attraction, horrified but joyously hugging each other in the morning sun. You imagined recounting sides of the story to each other and wondering who would ever believe you two. You imagined pointing out golden bunnies on Easter and giving them a knowing look. You imagined helping them move far far away from this town, to somewhere the rotted— Spring Bonnie couldn’t get either of you.

But that was a fantasy. And you couldn’t carry the weight of your memories being the last you may see them.

“ Don’t use all of my hot water! ”

You swore and turned off the voice message, swiping your tears away quickly, “ I’m not! ” You wished you could come up with something more witty or biting.

You couldn’t decipher whatever Michael grumbled from beyond the door, and that was probably for the best. You made sure to use as much soap as you wanted.

When you were done in the shower, you noticed there were no clothes on the floor like last time. Now that you thought about it, it looked like he cleaned up a bit since you were last here. Unfortunately, that left only your clothes you spent all night in.

You knocked on the bathroom door.

Micheal grunted in response.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” You asked.

You heard shuffling from the other side of the door. Then a knock came.

You opened the door. You had a towel, but Michael was decidedly looking at the floor. He held out the same hoodie you wore the day before and a pair of pants. You muttered a thanks, closing the door and slipping them on. When you came out, Michael was sitting on his bed, idly filling out what looked to be a logbook of some kind. He changed out of his security uniform into something more comfortable, which somehow looked even more out of place on his corpse-like body.

He glanced at you briefly, “You're wearing pants today.”

“Despite it all,” You said with a stretch. The clothes he gave you looked too big for him, and Michael had to be over six feet even with his poor posture. Wearing an oversized hoodie with no pants never harmed anyone.

You idly looked around Michael’s now clean room. You didn’t notice before, but he had a framed photo on his bedside table.

Michael put down his logbook, “Ready to talk about your ‘approach’ to Fazbear’s Fright?”

God, he could be condescending. You ignored him and picked up the framed photo. That seemed to still Michael, him shifting his position. It was a picture of three kids: two boys and a girl. They were all smiling except for the teenager, who looked annoyed to be there. It looked as though the picture had been cut, cropping out the parents from the photo.

“Cute,” You smiled, holding it up, pointing to the teenager. “Let me guess, this ones you?”

Michael stared daggers into you in response.

You opened up the bedside table, “Do you have more pictures?”

Michael slammed it shut, his hand over yours. Needless to say, you saw a pile of old polaroids in the drawer. Of course, he’d be the type to just keep loose polaroids around. “Don’t go looking through my things.”

“Oh, come on,” You said. “What could be more embarrassing than angsty-teen-Michael?”

He said your name as a warning.

“How about this,” You offered, slipping your hand from his and holding yours behind your back as you leaned towards him. You noticed how he subtly leaned away from you as you did so, but you weren’t offended by it. “I promise I will have a serious discussion about whether or not I wander Fazbear’s Fright after dark if you let me look through your photos?”

His brow, purple with decay, furrowed, “Whether you wander Fazbear’s Fright at all. And I don’t want to discuss it, I want you not to do it.”

“Would you even believe me if I did promise that?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I’ll promise to have a serious discussion about it.” You give him your most innocent smile, “Deal?”

He scowled and grumbled something under his breath, before letting go of the drawer. Your smile widened just slightly.

You picked up the polaroids tenderly, not wanting to ruin them, as you sat on the edge of Michael’s bed. Your smile widened at seeing photo after photo of a gloomy boy, moody teen, and excitable girl. In one, teen-Michael was wearing a Foxy mask. In another, the little girl was yanking on his arm with a toothy grin. Another, the girl and the boy were playing with toys. Another, Michael was barely an adult and wearing a new security uniform.

“These are ancient!” You said, and Michael stiffened in response. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Are you done yet?” His whole body was tense as you looked through the photos, despite how he tried to play it off as nonchalance.

“You were such a cute kid.” You said, and Michael prickled at that. You turned to him, leaning closer, “And a handsome young man, too. But I think I like the way you look now, better.”

Void eyes went wide. Michael opened his mouth to say something, his voice stuttering out a few broken syllables, before croaking, “ What? ”

“You’ve got a macabre beauty going on,” You said while you tilted your head, speaking more matter-of-factly than anything else. “A haunting kind of handsome for sure.”

You noticed for the first time Michael’s abrassed cheeks warmed a dark byzantium shade; something that was barely noticeable against the rot of his skin—making you wonder if you could’ve just missed that warmth before. It validated your statement that he was hauntingly handsome, and right after you realized that he was blushing.

Then, a scowl marred his blush, and he physically turned your head back to the photos with his spongy hands, “Finish up already.”

“Maybe you’d be a bit more handsome if you smiled more.” You teased, “Not a single smiling photo of you-”

You stopped at a picture of a much older Michael wearing a smile that looked stunning. In this picture, he was dripping with charisma; his usually bent posture straightened and eyes that sparkled with both invitation and promise. His dark hair was just starting to gray at his temples, and his body filled out his uniform well. Even from just the photo, you found yourself charmed by him.

Your grin widened with mischief, “Here we go! I was right, you look so much more charming when you smile.” You held up the picture to him.

Michael stilled, solemn and quiet. You tilted your head at his sudden change in demeanor, and then he said, “That’s not me. That’s my dad.”

Your eyes went wide. You looked back at the photo. Sure enough, there were very subtle differences between the two, but he looked just like him. You turned the photo around. Writing in old smudged ink read ‘William Afton, 1983’ .

Your hand came to your throat, fingers tenderly grazing the bruised flesh, and your eyes hardened. You shoved the photo deep into the back of the pile, “I changed my mind. You look much better when you don’t smile.”

Michael didn’t respond to that, and you were glad for that.

You flitted through the last few photos idly, having a bitter taste in your mouth from the last picture, before one caught your eye. A child was with the little girl from Michael’s photos. A child who looked familiar to you.

“This kid,” You pointed to the photo of the child with unkempt brown hair. Michael came to your side at your inquisitive tone, “I know them.”

“Charlie?” Michael asked, “How could you... Oh.”

“Yeah, I told you I wasn’t hallucinating!” You said, before looking back at the photo, “But this photo is ancient... was she one of the victims?”

Michael nodded, solemnly.

You raked your nails along your scalp with a heavy sigh, “Good lord.” You should’ve guessed the child you kept seeing was a ghost, but seeing her alive and healthy in the old photo made it more real . She was just a kid...

“Why can you see her?” Michael asked, more to himself than to you.

“Oh! She kept-” You stopped yourself for just a beat. If you told Michael she stabbed the toy phone into her chest, he’d never let you look for it. You had to come up with something else, quick. “-appearing as some sort of tall, skinny thing.”

Michael furrowed his brow. If he noticed your pause, he didn’t comment on it. He gingerly took the pile from your hands and swapped through a few photos before handing you one. He pointed at a familiar tall, odd looking puppet. “Is this what you saw?”

You nodded.

“I thought so.” Michael sighed, and the weight of it prompted you to take a closer look at him. He looked fatigued. Not just physically, but there was something heavy in those hollowed eyes of his. He carried a burden that he wouldn’t reveal to you. Regret, misery, and sorrow; all hidden behind a mask of apathy, one that cracked just enough for you to glimpse behind it. You couldn’t begin to imagine, but it looked too much for one person to bear, even for a zombie.

You placed your hand over his. When he turned to you, his mask cracked again and you could see another burden: loneliness. He looked at you with a tragic longing. You wondered when was the last time someone held his hand or joked with him or spent time with him at all. His state of undeath undoubtedly warded off most people. You didn’t want to pity him—he saved your life multiple times, he deserved more than your pity—but you couldn’t help what you felt.

Just as quickly as the mask slipped, it was sealed, and Michael pulled his hand away. He coughed, his gaze cast to the floor, before saying, “You done with the photos?”

You nodded, and he put them away. You stood up.

“Wait,” Michael closed the bedside table while looking at you, his brow furrowed. “Where are you going? You said-”

“I’m just gonna pick up some food,” You said, slipping on your shoes. They were swallowed by the large sweatpants Michael gave you. “I can’t be persuaded on an empty stomach. We can talk over din-... breakfast.”

He grumbled, leaning back against his bed frame, “I have food here.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m good on the popcorn and junk food stuffed in your pantry. What do you want? My treat.”

Michael exhaled, exaggerated and exasperated, “I don’t know... Just give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

You handed him your phone. It was probably for the best that you had his number, anyway, with the whole ‘trying to avoid getting killed by his serial killer robot dad while fulfilling your own agendas’ thing. Still, you wished you had swapped numbers after you had picked up food.

Because you weren’t just picking up food.

───── (\ /) ─────

“Oh yeah,” The guy you talked to on the phone gave you a thumbs up, “You can totally take pictures!”

You had swung by the department store to pick up some normal clothes and a quality camera, which was now hanging around your neck. This trip was getting expensive... Good thing you didn’t have to pay for a hotel.

“Just, uh, just make sure not to get any pics of the ventilation... or the employees... or anything that might look flammable-”

You interrupted him, “I’m only interested in the decorations... and the animatronic.”

“For sure!” He grinned, “That’s perfect then. Uh, do you need someone to-”

You interrupted him again, “I remember my way around.” You waved at the day shift security guard, who waved back.

“Sweet, sweet...” The guy you talked to on the phone looked from the security guard, back to you, and then back to the security guard, “You know him?”

“My boyfriend works the night shift here.” He gave you a strange look, and you said, “That’s how I found out about this place, remember?”

“Right! Right, you said that before,” No you didn’t. “Well, go right ahead! And hey, mind if I check out the pictures after?”

Great. Now you’ll actually have to take pictures. “Of course.”

“Awesome! I’ll be around, just give me a holler when you’re done!”

You liked the attraction much much more when it was well lit and filled with people. Halls that terrified you were now bustling with conversation, and haunting decorations were now tacky in the light. You took snapshots of the empty costume pieces strewn about the attraction, and briefly you wondered if you had to make some poor minimum-wage worker clean up after all of your shattered toys.

It was strange knowing that there was a murderer hiding just out of sight, and yet people instinctively knew to avoid it. Before, you wanted people around you when you first saw Spring Bonnie. Now, it was better you were alone.

You held the camera in one hand as you approached the room Spring Bonnie was in. Before, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Now, the first thing you noticed was how still the air was. Nobody was here to fix this or that, so nobody—not even Spring Bonnie—was moving. The air was stale.

You clenched your fist, determined to quell any shaking. You had a theory the animatronic would have more difficulty moving during the day, or at least the threat of being seen by the cameras would keep you safe, but you still couldn’t suppress the visceral fear screaming at you to run. Even when you believed the thing was just an old oversized toy, you had that fear.

You were getting better at facing your fears, however.

There was Spring Bonnie, alone and illuminated by dull, droning lights. Your grip on your camera tightened. You looked back at the hall. There was no one.

“Hi, William.”

Silver eyes flicked to you. You almost flinched. You forced yourself to steel your gaze. He wasn’t bolting for you. That had to mean something.

You were bold enough to step closer. His eyes watched you. He always watched you, so carefully. He watched you as he hunted you down, as he choked the life out of you, as he made you choose between your hand or your life, as you demanded answers from him. And now, all he did was watch.

Your eyes quickly darted to the security camera. You couldn’t tell if the security guard was looking at this cam or not. Just as quickly, you retrained your eyes on Spring Bonnie. Taking your attention away from him for too long was basically asking him to murder you. “Heard a bit about you from Michael.”

A noise that sounded like mechanical gears turning came from the animatronic, but he made no movement other than that. You took courage in that.

“Thirty years in that suit must've been pretty painful,” You stepped closer. You were baiting him on purpose. “And alone? Did you lose your mind—what, ten years in?”

Even taunting him, he didn’t move. You prayed that was proof he couldn’t. You swallowed. You set down your camera. Each movement you took was incremental. Deliberate. The slightest of motions would set you off screaming and running for others.

You felt invigorated by this sudden power. You could move and he couldn’t. Your head felt light from the relief and arrogance. “Do you still feel the pain?” You dared to say.

His eyes clicked, focusing on you as all he could do was watch. All he could do to you was watch . You would make him watch as you eat his heart.

You were close enough for him to grab you. As close as you were in the vent. He didn’t move. “Did it hurt last night?”

He only watched.

You stepped closer. As close as you were when he choked you. He didn’t move. “I hope it did.”

He only watched.

You stepped closer. He didn’t move. “And if it didn’t.”

He only watched.

“ I hope this does. ”

You plunged your hand into his chest, and suddenly a claw was around your neck. Your breath and power were gone. Replaced with terror . You waited to be torn to shreds.

You waited...

Fingertips sharp as knives poked at your skin, but your neck wasn’t being squeezed. You looked up at Spring Bonnie, sweat dripping down your face. His silver eyes were so close, his permanent grin, and you could see the outline of a corpse deep inside. If he felt anything other than deep, encompassing hunger , you couldn’t tell. You swallowed, and your throat bobbed against his claws.

He didn’t move. His claws framed your bruise, showcasing it in a haunting display. His silver eyes, both mechanical and human, stared at it hungrily; his own handiwork mesmerizing to the robot and the killer. You didn’t know how he managed to get a claw around your neck. Maybe it was painful or provoking enough to let the killer take control if for only a moment. Maybe he could move all along and he was toying with you. You hoped it was the former.

You peeled yourself away from his grip, wincing as the claws sliced your skin, lightly. You touched the lacerations. Blood. When you were free, you ripped your hand out of his chest.

With your best friend’s phone in your hand.

A huge grin stretched across your face as you took steps away from the animatronic. You waved it tauntingly at Spring Bonnie, who’s silver eyes followed it devotedly, before snatching up your camera and running into the hallway.

You got it! You got it! Shattered, smelly, and all; you got your best friend’s phone back! And now, you were one step closer to finding them. Or... finding what happened to them.

Your own phone pinged. You pulled it up. It was Michael.

‘what is taking so long??’

Even Michael’s nagging couldn’t deflate your elation.

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runawaymun · 7 days

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if nobody's been here yet I'm gonna be very cringe and on brand and ask about the Partake Prequel

also Rivendell's Tiny Tearaway sounds DELIGHTFUL

Ahhhh thank you!

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

The Partake Prequel

(also if you wanted to know more about Rivendell's tiny tearaway just lmk I can make another post for that haha. But I am glad it sounds good!!!)

(cw: discussions of pretty abusive dynamics and questionable consent, also discussion of sex)

so this only exists in my head because a) I'm morbidly curious and have a fascination with the psychology of messed up relationships and b) I am a masochist.

I am just constantly thinking about how the fuck We Got Here when it comes to To Partake. Like how do things get to a point where it's this fucked up and messy and tangly and Bad?

and of course there are bits and snatches that are mixed in to Partake -- like little glimpses into the backstory of Elrond and Gil's situationship, but I want to know more specifically how we got to where we are now.

We know that Elrond started pining after Gil sometime in the late first age when he was roughly in between the age of fifty and seventy. Which...for a Peredhel is a perfectly acceptable age to be sexual (Elwing and Dior had kids and were married by 30). But from an Elvish perspective (i,e. Gil's) that's a baby.

Literally he does not think about anyone else. This is a somewhat unhealthy obsession already. There's a fealty-kink wrapped up in here somehow that's all messily combined with the fact that Gil is currently the only adult who is really present in Elrond's life (if we're going with ROP's timeline Galadriel seems to fuck off to hunt Sauron shortly after Morgoth's imprisonment in the void, and you know...Earendil is busy Earendiling)

So to start I don't think Gil even really saw anything with Elrond as being on the table until sometime in the very early second age, after he appoints Elrond as herald. It's unclear when this happened -- I couldn't find a date for it. But I presume it to be sometime after Lindon is founded and Mithlond constructed and certainly after Elros sailed for Numenor (Elrond would have been emotionally vulnerable and attached to Gil-Galad even more -- and in my head Elros would not have approved of anything going on between Elrond and Gil-Galad so that's very off limits until he's gone)

But--- with Elros gone indefinitely, yeah Elrond gets more attached to Gil.

They're still not sexual yet though.

Elrond is taking regular trips to Numenor etc.

So I generally imagine that things really Began between the two of them sometime shortly after SA 432, when Elrond is around 500 years old. He's "mature" at this point in Elvish terms, and Elros has just died -- so, unhinged and probably at one of his lowest points.

SEX CW: I have a VERY firm idea in my head which I was planning to make a oneshot of. But Elrond at this point does get Very Horny about Gil and starts masturbating about it sometime around here. Gil catches him and that's how....uhhhh things start.

Because OBVIOUSLY (Gil brain here) he is into Gil and THEREFORE this is a PERFECTLY NORMAL and FINE thing to do!

Plus he is OF. AGE.

Nevermind the fact that Elrond is incredibly unstable and vulnerable and depressed & still extremely young, completely inexperienced, and there's some really fucky power dynamics -- all of which affect his ability to consent properly to ANYTHING.

So that's how it starts. They just start having sex. I think nobody really knows about it at this point.

(we start with mostly just Gil on the receiving end of some oral sex that Elrond is getting rapidly better at)

Gil's the one to broach anything more than that and Elrond is down for anything as long as Gil is happy.

rumors do start circulating at this point but absolutely nobody is keen to confront them about it.

I feel like there's potential here for Galadriel to catch wind of things, directly ask, and for Elrond to deny absolutely everything.

If she asked Gil there's no way that he'd admit that anything is going on either because she makes him fear for his life haha.

Elrond has been actively suppressing links to Melian at this point because it freaks out most Elves -- and because Gil doesn't like it.

At some point Gil broaches-- and by broaches what I really mean here is tries (he doesn't ASK!!) an osanwe link. Likely either during or just after sex.

Elrond does not know any better and his brain is full of dopamine and he thinks this is AWESOME. The king wants to be EVEN MORE INTIMATE

boom osanwe link. Far more of an osanwe link than they ever should have had.

boom immediate dissonance which is painful for Gil and so he assumes it is painful for Elrond

Elrond has not had enough osanwe experience to know this is pretty insular to the specific way his and Gil's Themes don't mesh.

"Let me fix it ok?" "Oh god please fix it"

Also there's the undertone here of Gil doesn't like it and Elrond feeling the need to manage his emotions and divest himself of anything displeasing even if that's his fucking Theme.

Hence the theme fuckery begins.

And things really really really start to devolve with their relationship.

Like I imagine in the beginning Gil was pretty cautious and careful -- not in a lovey dovey way but he's not wholly inconsiderate and it's within his Partake characterization that he doesn't like to hurt his partner unless it's in a fun kinky way. He also does not get off on someone being scared. That's an ick for him. So initially he would be careful.

But Elrond starts getting really good at masking things and figuring out that Gil likes to be rough.

And of course, anything for Gil.

Do you see where we're going.

Well and it's compounded by the fact that Elrond does actually like it, too. It just scares him. So he as a lot of really confusing feelings going on that he doesn't know how to handle and there's also a lot of shame wrapped up in it too

And obviously Gil is not um. Guiding him through this in the way that a more experienced partner who is sometimes building scenes and domming should.

And again -- there's that messy thing of "I need to please you in absolutely every way possible and also clearly my differences are Bad, and therefore I must mask all of them as best I can and keep up with my work demands because being useful is better than being loved."

(Which is a lesson he learned from literally everyone, even Elros in the end. It is not a lesson that Elros meant to teach him. But Elros loved him. And then he left.)

Anyway that's as far as I've gotten. The beginning is much more specific and it gets more nebulous as we get closer to the Partake timeline, but it's very easy for me to see the trajectory of their relationship, and that's really what I want to explore.

OHHHH also the undertone of codependency because Elrond and Gil are both fundamentally isolated and find solace in each other. And Gil isolates Elrond further to ensure that He Will Not Be Left. Because Gil is afraid of being inadequate and has literally no one else except like, Cirdan, who cares for him so deeply. (I mean, he would. If he wasn't an asshole. But you get where I am going with this.)

Yeah. Sorry.

There is no happy ending to this fic it is just a dissection of how we get from point A to point B. The happy ending would be Partake alkdhg.

#finally actually have time to respond to this today #to partake #partake prequel fic #cw abuse mention #cw sex mention #Gil is a very bad partner #and by that I mean he strategically isolates people because he is fundamentally afraid of being left alone #and Elrond is uniquely vulnerable to being isolated #because he also has the same fundamental fear #Gil responds to that fear by needing to control everything around him #and Elrond responds to that fear by making himself into an exact mirror image of whomever he is trying to form an attachment with #this is a horrible combination

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amyintherapy · 3 months

Text

Darkness, Neglect, Shame, Dissociation

I've been struggling emotionally. The nice thing is that I'm far enough along in therapy that I know it's just part of the cycle that comes with facing trauma in therapy. Sometimes I get far enough with discussing trauma that it just puts me into this dark headspace. I had clinical depression as a teenager, and it's not as bad as that, so I hesitate to call it depression - but it's somewhat along those lines.

I want to sleep way too much, and when I sleep I tend to have a lot of nightmares. Or sometimes I just wake up sad and/or anxious without remembering anything I've dreamed about. Everyday tasks require way more effort than they usually do. Like bricks are tied to my feet and arms. It takes a lot of effort to make myself cook even the simplest of meals, to shower, or to play with the cat even when she brings me the toy she loves to play fetch with. She's so cute it hurts, but it still takes effort to play with her when I'm in a dark phase like this.

My mind tosses around childhood memories/trauma on repeat, but it's hard to really put into words. I have to really push myself to open up to my partner about my thoughts and feelings, I usually share with him pretty effortlessly. It's not that I'm trying to block people out, it's just that converting my thoughts and feelings into words others can understand feels extra challenging. Like...I'm not resistant to sharing with him or with a couple of close friends...but I just don't know how. Yet when I have taken the time to figure out how to turn some of those thoughts and feelings into words for him, I feel better. So I've been trying to keep reaching for that. I believe a lot of what I'm experiencing is uncovered shame. I had seen some therapists talk about how trauma is always closely linked with shame, but that we often don't notice it.

I had the realization a couple of weeks back that a lot of my anxiety is rooted in shame. I've also come across content that has talked about having an insecure attachment (aka attachment trauma) is something that tends to leave people with chronic shame because when we failed to develop a secure attachment with our caregivers as infantats, we have to adapt ourselves to try to earn connection. But that means we betray our authentic selves in some way, we put on an act to be what we think we need to be for our caregivers. And that sends us the message that our authentic self is somehow unworthy or not good enough of being connected with, accepted, deeply loved, as-is - which makes us ashamed of who we are. One of the biggest things I'm wrestling with related to my childhood emotional neglect and shame is whether I can trust my own perspective on my childhood. My more logical brain believes that childhood emotional neglect is extremely common. Roughly half of all people have an insecure attachment, and that stems from lacking emotional attunement, which I Think can be considered emotional neglect. But also, common parenting practices completely normalize emotional neglect. Most of the authoritarian parents I know outright expect their children to deny their own beliefs and feelings in favor of obeying the parents' directions or commands. Even among people who I think of as trying to step away from things like demanding obedience and using corporal punishment...many parents still routinely deny their children's feelings and beliefs for the sake of trying to maintain authority. For example, their toddler son snatches a toy from the 5 year old daughter, and the daughter hits her brother in return. The parent yells at the daughter for hitting her brother and she says 'I was so mad he took my toy!' and the parents refuse to validate her anger because they are focused on how her behavior was unacceptable. Which...yes, it's wrong to hit. But you can validate the feeling without validating the behavior, and a lot of even 'gentler' parents don't recognize this, so they routinely invalidate their children - and that's emotional neglect. Extremely normalized, and usually well-intentioned...but emotional neglect when that happens to a child routinely throughout their childhood.

And it makes so much sense when I remember that for young children, their parents are their #1 support person. The way that for most adults, their spouse is. Imagine if the majority of the time that you had big feelings and shared them with your spouse, or your spouse even just witnessed you having big feelings, they disagreed with you about your feelings. Wouldn't you feel so alone and unsupported? Plus you have to factor in that for children, they are born wired to do anything possible to maintain connection with their parents as their little bodies know that they are dependent on their parents for survival. So when they are routinely dismissed and invalidated, they don't think "man, this person is so uncaring! I don't deserve to be dismissed all the time! What a jerk!" they instead think "Man, I am always wrong, I am broken, I can't do anything right." When I think about an example like that in the context of anyone else, it makes sense to me to call that emotional neglect. I know a lot of children who pretty clearly are lacking a sense of safety and closeness with their parents, as they don't go to them when they really need support. For example, they get bullied at school but never tell their parents as they just assume the support won't be there. So many kids feel so alone, and it's due to their needs being neglected so regularly that they don't attempt to keep connections with their parents. Or in worse cases, it's not just that they are lacking support, but that their parents are the source of suffering, so there is no reason to think they could get support if just avoiding being harmed by their parents is the goal. I don't mean to compare or measure traumas, but I don't know how to make the point I need to make without doing so. So please know that I am not at all trying to diminish other people's neglect experiences.

But I think it makes sense to say that a child who regularly had their big feelings invalidated or dismissed was emotionally neglected. Even if they also were given support in some other ways. And my situation goes a lot deeper than that, and yet it's hard for the more emotional side of my brain to accept that it's reasonable to say I was emotionally neglected. For example, even when my mom learned that I was cutting myself, she never asked me what was going on or tried to offer me support. Instead, I was yelled at - and then we pretended nothing was happening for several months. Once a teacher caught on and sent me to the school counselor, they told my mom I needed to see a therapist, and so she set me up with one. But she still never talked to me about my mental health, why I was cutting myself, etc. Even after my therapist pushed me to get on meds for depression, she never paid any attention to whether or not I was taking my meds. She never met with my therapist to find out how I was doing, although she had that right as I was only 14. When she found out about my sexual abuse, she never asked me about it, never offered me any support. To this day I've never discussed it with her. How do you find out that your child was sexually abused and not even talk to them about it? The only time I can recall ever attempting to go to my mom for emotional support or help was when my stepfather was repeatedly making creepy comments about my body. I was 9 and starting to experience very early puberty. I was desperate for him to stop. She had been around when things were said, but had never reacted. I stupidly assumed she must not understand just how upsetting this was for me. And I desperately needed it to stop. So one day while in the car alone with her I worked up the courage to say I was really upset by him always talking about my body. I had a hard time even speaking this to her as I was crying so hard. Her response was that he was "just noticing that I was growing up". He continued to be a creep, she never said anything. I wasn't stupid enough to try to get emotional support from her ever again. The logical side of my brain says that it is beyond reasonable to call my experiences emotional neglect. In one therapy appointment, I mentioned to my therapist that I had realized that I Didn't have a working definition for what emotional neglect meant. Several years back, it had occurred to me that I had working definitions for physical child abuse and emotional child abuse that were very much based on my own experiences. I basically was defining physical abuse in a way that would leave loopholes for my experiences so that I didn't 'qualify' as physically abused. And same for emotional abuse. But I don't even have a definition of emotional neglect, and I think that is because there is no way I could define emotional neglect that wouldn't include me. And yet...the emotional side of my brain is so strong and loud that it somehow feels incorrect to say that. A large, emotional part of me feels like my childhood was quite normal. And I know that 'normal' mostly just means 'common' and that how common something is, has no difference in how traumatic (or not) it was. Logically I know my brain is just grasping at straws, trying to avoid seeing the truth in full detail. Trying to protect me from that pain of accepting the truth. But it's weird because the logical side of me knows already. I don't feel like I am effectively protected from the truth. I just also can't fully accept it, or feel it as true with my whole brain. When I Talk about the neglect, I automatically dissociate and that makes it pretty impossible to FEEL like what I'm thinking is true, as my brain and my body become disconnected. My mind knows the truth, but I don't really FEEL it as true. It still feels false somehow.

In the past, when I've had these days/weeks of feeling 'stuck' in a dark headspace following trauma therapy, it's followed with periods of significant growth and improvement. So, that's my silver lining - that I'm probably in a big phase of growth right now. The whole 'its always darkest before the dawn' concept. But, I am tired of feeling 'dark', and of having so many nightmares. I can tell my partner is missing the regular me, although he's extremely supportive of me and the work I'm doing. I miss the regular me too. And I miss having energy for more than just survival. I have two therapy appointments this week, maybe they'll help me find my way back to regular me.

#my posts #trauma #emotional neglect #attachment trauma #insecure attachment #ptsd #cptsd #childhood emotional neglect #shame

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wordy-little-witch · 13 hours

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Shanks and Buggy should both be regressors because Shanks also feels like a mayoralty depressed little guy to me and if anyone has taken a number just as much as Buggy did from his days as a Roger pirate it’s him thanks for listening to my Ted talk.

No but srsly I can just imagine Shanks as having some extremely off days where he usually drinks himself into a stupor because yay bad coping mechanism, but what would actually do him some good is to feel taken care off again or to at least be with someone who „gets it“

Buggy would absolutely „get it“, even tough he also probably would be reluctant to even just watch after a regressed Shanks at first. Probably has an easier time when he’s also regressed and feeling just a bit older than Shanks and can take that responsibility („older“ is a broad term here since Shanks regression is mostly nonverbal and also muddled. He could be anywhere from 15 to 5 and sometimes he’s somehow both at the same time somehow). In that case he will go absolutely „annoyed but caring older brother“ mode on Shanks tough, who’d just follow him around like an oversized Puppy and mostly just watches him do stuff with curiosity. Rarely initiates anything play related, rarely talks and rarely asks for anything, but if Buggy snatches a knife out of his hand and berated him for using something so dangerous in his state, before cutting the apple Shanks was about to cut himself, he’ll just beam at him with happiness.

Oh and also, chews on everything. Chews on the cloth of his coat, chews on his fingers, chews on random piece of driftwood he found at the beach. Has probably more than once been catapulted out of his regressive state because he was chewing on a pen and then realized to his horror that „Oh fuck. I obliterated this thing.“ before looking at a befuddled Benn with blue ink all over his lips.

YESYESYES THIS THIS ENTIRELY THIS X100000000

Okay but on a absolutely dead serious note, I feel like Shanks regressing as well is absolutely within realm of possibilities. I feel like Buggy probably does it more... idk, visibly? Identifiably? Shanks usually passes as just "Oh it's just one of those moods" whereas Buggy hides away instinctively and struggles to let anyone in on that level of vulnerability because of how absolutely WACKED out his trust issues are.

Honestly, when it comes down to it, they both have this ingrained instinctive reaction to one another. Buggy is feeling too tiny in the face of the world? Shanks can't tell where his lines end and the world begins beneath the fluff and fuzz? Small things of each other are what brings comfort.

Buggy has a red blanket, his favorite blanket with eyelets and lacing, he adores it, the fiddling, the texture, the color, and he refuses to tell anyone or admit to himself that, half asleep, cuddling that blanket, the lacing pressed to his cheek, it isn't a tent around him, earth beneath him, it isn't on land where he's resting - it's on a boat, in a tiny storage room turned cabin, in a hammock or on the floor or in a familiar yet distant bed, far too big for a far larger man,, sea salt in the air and his Red under his snuggling might.

When Shanks is fuzzy and struggling to process input, struggling to offer output beyond the pressure in his teeth against whatever can soothe the urge, he is staring at the sea, he is looking at the shifting blue hues and remembering bright hair and brighter eyes that shifted just the same with the waves of emotion in a familiar little face. He is remembering a time when he would feel funny like this and a smaller, paler, scarred little hand would grab his and drag him away from whatever was going on, would gently smack a knife from his hand, would take over and complain with faux-anger in his high little voice as he mothered the redhead and blushed furiously when Shanks turned that warm-fuzzy-heated-happiness into a smile to give to him.

Even decades later, years apart, pieces of each other remain and offer comfort when needed the most.

Should the rifts between them ever mend, should a world exist where the rift is not there, or is not quite to jagged and jarring, they'd be each other's. They always have been and always will be, soulmates in any and ever way imaginable, a connection deeper than labels can define and beyond the spectrum that humans use.

They, to this day, would find safety and security with each other. Buggy's regression is still hypervigilant, perceptive and cerebral which offsets Shanks' body and brawn. They click in ways most can't fathom but simply Is and Was and Will Be.

The first time Shanks visits Karai Bari, Crocodile and Mihawk see it first hand. There is a time frame there, and initial setting of the stage. Buggy and Shanks fall into banter as easily as breathing, biting comments and affable laughter, but it's in the body language that the truth lies. It's how Buggy can lean into Shank's space, on the side of his missing arm, pass into that vulnerable spot and Shanks does not move away. He just smiles, easily, as if this isn't something he'd flinched away from not even three years ago when Mihawk himself passed that space. It's how Shanks reaches out easily and catches one of Buggy's flailing arms and the jester doesn't disconnect to keep moving, just squirms and complains loudly. It's how they easily meet eyes and millions of words are exchanged between two men with barely a thought.

It's then how later on in the night, as they are relaxing post dinner, Mihawk feels the pickling-flowering-gauzy sensation Buggy's Haki makes when he is teetering on headspaces, when he makes the decision to attempt a tasteful exit with his little clown in toe, and the swordsman watches as Buggy slips easily into Shanks's space, grabs his bottle of nameless drink, and drops it to the floor with a pout. "No," he demands, grabbing Shanks by the cheeks and bonking their heads together. "'S bad for you."

Mihawk expects many thing and yet nothing by way of reaction from his former rival. By the way Crocodile shifts his weight and hand minutely, he is preparing as well. Neither is ready for the little plume of strawberry-spiced-clouds by way of the other emperor's energy oozing from him as he laughs - it's nearly a giggle, nearly a snicker, and his hand comes up to tap-tap pause tap-tap on the freckled arm of his clown-faced captor.

Buggy just giggles, nodding. Shanks beams and doesn't hesitate, lunging. Mihawk is quick to grab Crocodile's shoulder, palm haki coated to be safe, watching on as he realizes suddenly that the two Emperors before him had so suddenly, so readily, become the two little Princes before him in complete confidence. There's an emotional component there, he knows, can feel it in his diaphragm, but that takes the back burner in lieu of the dawning realization from his sand man boyfriend at his hip, watching the children cling and laugh and push at each other.

Before a scaffold was built in a small east blue city some two decades ago, two boys were each other's in a way nobody could explain or replicate. It was a bond forged on survival, trauma, codependency, and dreams bigger than their little hearts even put together could weather. Despite the tlchanging tides and dawning eras and passing days-months-years between, they've never strayed far from that - front what they are, from who they are to each other. They've changed. But that's always the same.

And now, they have just a few more people on hand who are willing to ride the waves there at their sides in varying capacities.

Mihawk and Crocodile never expected to have two semi feral part time kids, but weirder things have happened.

They don't really mind rolling with those punches

#sorry if i made it more buggy focused #tried balancing it #i love he #regressor shanks!!!!#regressor buggy #agere one piece #agere buggy #witchy answers!!#tHANKS FOR THE ASK ILY

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maplecornia · 1 year

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chapter 58

infinite stars masterlist | BTS masterlist | masterlist | playlist

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3K

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: bts x female!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: is this the beginning of our end?

When Taehyung heard she had been in the studio all day, he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived. A part of him was hesitant, afraid to find her in the same condition Jin saw her in that day. Another part of him, the more reasonable part, expected to find her amid practice, perhaps rehearsing a move or in the midst of a run-through.

What he didn't expect was to walk in on a string of colorful curses being released as Yen stumbles for the tenth time and falls to the floor.

"Whoa!" Dropping his bag, he hurries to her side. "Are you okay?"

Yen gives him an incredulous look before accepting his outstretched hand and allowing him to help her up. It's clear she's annoyed more than she is tired or injured, and by now Taehyung has learned when to keep his mouth shut around her.

For example, he will not be teasing her about the fact that she looks like a frustrated chipmunk with her lips pouted that way.

"I'm fine," you answer his earlier question, and once you stand, you pull away running your hands through your hair. "I've just been having some trouble."

"With the dance?"

Ignoring the urge to snap at him for the stupid question, you turn away, shaking your head hopelessly.

"Amongst other things..."

Taehyung watches you in concern as you walk over to your pile of things and snatch your water to take a quick gulp. It's clear you're bothered, and with the performance quite literally right around the corner, Taehyung would be surprised if you weren't.

"It's in less than two weeks and I can't get this move down." The stress piles up even as you think about it, and you have to fight the urge to take the bottle you're holding and hurl it across the room. As though making a mess would somehow make the mess of your life less significant. "Plus, Jimin won't get off my case about it and it's supposed to be this 'pivotal' part, but now that it's so close, no one has time to help me or even attend our training sessions!"

Taehyung can't help but smile inwardly at the animated way she rants and smiles adoringly as she quite literally flops herself on the floor, almost like she were a lifeless rag doll. But when he sees the shining glisten of tears near to break free, his heart experiences a sharp pain at the sight of her struggle.

"I knew it could be difficult, but I didn't think I'd be walking blind."

Even your voice wavers as your frustration reaches a new climax and you find that if you say one more word, you may not even find it within you to keep yourself from breaking down.

After a moment, Taehyung walks over to sit next to you, and you close your eyes as though that would erase the despair in your heart, and the humiliation that he nearly caught you crying over something as silly as a misstep in a dance. But when he pats the space next to him on the floor, you know you'll have to face him, no matter how begrudgingly you manage it.

When he turns to you and sees your pout, he smiles, rolling his eyes before poking your nose affectionately and replacing it with bewilderment. Before you even have a chance to retaliate though, he tilts his eyes, captivating your attention with those deep hazel eyes.

"What if I help you?"

"How?"

Tae shrugs ambiguously, and your face immediately brightens as you straighten your former forlorn stance and peer into his eyes.

"Do you know the dance?!"

Now it's Taehyung's turn to be incredulous, and at the look, you shove him playfully. After all, it's not your fault he didn't tell you he knew the moves this whole time.

"Why didn't you say so before?!"

Tae chuckles, fending off the attack quite feebly, before catching her hands by their wrists and setting them down gently in her lap.

"I didn't want to interfere, I'm not your dance tutor, after all." He doesn't realize that he hasn't let go of your hands, but you definitely do and you try to ignore the way he's absentmindedly running his thumb in circles over your skin, never mind the way it accelerates your heartbeat. "Plus I don't know it that well, just the basics."

"Now, that's just you being modest." You scoff, fixing him with a strict stare, and he meets it head-on with a smile of his own. But when he turns away, pulling his hands apart from yours, you can spy a bit of bitterness left behind in traces.

"I also didn't get a chance to talk to you these past few weeks."

At first, you're unsure how to take the sentence, and for a moment, are scared that things between you two aren't as patched up as you had formerly thought. However, when you see him hiding behind his smirk you roll your eyes shoving him over. He laughs as he picks himself up off the floor almost instantly, a full hearty laugh that shakes his entire body in everlasting glee. You have to struggle to keep the anger present on your face, despite the way his laugh makes your heart somersault over and over within your chest, and the inherent ability it has to inspire a smile in anyone close to him.

"Oh come on, I'm only teasing."

Fixing him with your stare, you scoff.

"Yeah, and I'm a prodigy."

"But you are!"

At the sentence, you have had enough of his antics and lunge towards him, to tackle him to the floor, but he's able to evade your attacks long enough before he's on his feet again, leaving you to flop back on the slick hardwood tile. Rolling on your back, you are fully prepared to give him a lengthy comeback, but as soon as you come face to face, you're cut off by the look he wears in those eyes.

Smiling warmly, he extends his hand toward you.

"Shall we?"

It takes you a minute to accept it, but when you do, he pulls you up, his arms waiting and ready to hold you as you crash into him.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you find that you can't bring yourself to look at him in his eyes, heat rushing fast to your cheeks and turning your entire body hot. His arms don't leave once you're standing, instead, they rest on your hips, almost naturally as though they were always meant to fit there. He brushes back your hair, his breath hot and heavy on your skin as he steps closer to you, encasing you in the safe little cocoon you've grown so accustomed to in the time you've been together. A haven almost as real as the world constantly turning in your mind, the world the two of you now share each time you are together.

And in the back of your mind, you wonder if that's even possible. If the two of you would even be able to get close enough so that you were almost a part of the other. Your bodies adapting to create an imprint on the other, a safe space where you could lay safely in the other's arms, for as long as you needed, as long as you lived. You wonder if he wants that imprint, or if you're the only one who desires to be that close.

"Are you ready?"

When he asks you the question, you look up at him, the grin on his face melting your heart and taking your breath away. So much so that you find you cannot answer him. The question hangs in the air as you stare at him, your heart nearly bursting at the mere sight of him, the wonder that exists only in those eyes.

And as you become lost within those eyes, his smile fades as he tilts his head your way, leaning even closer.

This close to him, you can see every part of his face, things you've never noticed before, things you never thought you'd get so close as to witness in this lifetime. And as such, you find yourself almost entranced by it, sucked into the beauty that is him, a beauty that only seems to shine luminously with your adoration.

His tousled hair, the golden highlights in the curls, and the burnt auburn hue beneath. The way it curls at his temple, almost an extension of his long dark eyelashes that brush against his cheek each time he blinks. And those eyes, his brilliant hazelnut eyes that glitter almost as though there were a sea of stars that existed just inside those irises. His own galaxy, full of dreams and passions that you have yet to find, to hear about.

He licks his lips as he leans closer, the cusp of them so close to yours. They shine underneath the dim lights in the studio, parting just enough for you to see his teeth, the scent of him wafting over you. You can smell it, taste it on your tongue as your lips part in awe. His eyelashes flicker as he looks at you, those lips moving to form your name, the way he says it never ceasing to wake you up with a fire of desire inside of your chest and jolting you back into reality.

“Yen?”

You blink in surprise and blush as soon as you notice how close you are to him. Letting out a small gasp, you flinch back, and turn from him, making sure there's a reasonable distance between you and him. You chuckle nervously to yourself as you head towards the mirror and place your hand on the surface.

“I think you should be asking yourself if you’re ready.”

Glancing over at him out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he turns to you, and only then do you face him again, giving him a daring smile as though welcoming a challenge.

"Let's see how long you can last." Joining you at the mirror, he leans against it as you turn to him. “I'll have you know, Hobi has already given up on me countless times.”

“Since when do you call him Hobi?"

You shrug at the question stepping around him until you stand in front of him.

"I don't know, we've kind of bonded." Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes and you lean forward a bit peering up into his eyes. "What? Are you jealous?"

Though you meant it in a different context, and Taehyung is aware of this, he can't help but be reminded of his feelings, and the impossible name he knows exists waiting to be uncovered. And with the reminder comes the painstaking truth that he promised to keep it hidden, if only to protect that dazzling smile.

"Please, I get enough of him back home." You pull back, shrugging in disbelief, and Taehyung rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "Besides, I think I can manage, I’ve seen him and Jimin practice a million times, so I know almost the entire choreography.”

Pushing himself off the glass, he places his hand on the mirror like you did moments before and you happily notice how your handprints make a heart next to the other, and smile to yourself.

“I don’t know…” you chirp, spinning on your heel as you head to set up the music. “Jhope choreographed it himself, it might be hard even for a veteran like you.”

Taehyung scoffs in disapproval, leaning on the glass and folding his arms in rebuttal.

“Please, I can handle anything Hobi throws at me by now.”

You can't help but laugh at his confidence as you press play and the intro begins.

You and Jhope added a few moments of silence so you could get your positions and so you hurry to yours, urgently waving at Tae to do the same. He immediately perks to attention, coming to his place where Jimin would normally stand. You’re surprised he wasn’t lying when he said he had learned the choreography, and it shows. As he notices the flabbergasted expression, he wiggles his eyebrows in pride, and you can’t help but laugh.

But it's quickly broken once you hear the beginning counts.

When the music starts, Tae has that slight jolt of familiarity. A jolt that each artist experiences before they step on that stage, prepared to perform a song they crafted just for the world to hear.

Though he knew your song would be “House of Cards”, he has to remind himself that this time he does not need to perform. This time, the only person that needs to be seen…

Is you.

He looks over at you as you begin, and is astounded by the sight.

You've grown, adapted, blossomed into the music almost as though your heart were one with the very instrument itself. Beating in time with each measure, every verse. Though Taehyung is aware of how great a mentor both Jimin and Hoseok no doubt were, he knows this is not something one is taught. This is something learned, something crafted into the very soul of every performer, each dancer.

An ability to express your world throughout your movement.

And as the pride in his chest grows to a point of nearly bursting, he almost forgets his start, but once your hands touch the other, intertwining in an unbreakable gesture; once your eyes meet his, it's almost as though he is connected to you. Brought into the world that has grown from your dance, a world in which the two of you coexist only to spread your message through song.

This time, when you look at Taehyung, you don’t see your friend. You don't recognize your idol, the one who inspires your voice.

Instead, you see the artist.

You see a man who shares what you love, desires the same thing you desire, and needs what you need to breathe. You find in him the same freedom you find in the music, the endless world you can create, the stories you’ll give birth to. The mere thought that you are one in the same bursts forth a new passion that you’ve never felt before. And though it is unfamiliar, it is something you'll find that you cannot live without, no matter how hard you may try to forget.

With every beat, with every movement, and every word, you move as though the very notes of the sheet music were pulling you on a string. A puppeteer of your making guiding you as though the notes had imprisoned and set you free in the same breath. You lose yourself in the story you depict, the path you weave with your bodies.

You don't know what it is, the fact that it's him, or your endless practice finally paying off, or perhaps it lies in the way he looks at you, or the way that you finally feel comfortable, safe, happy without Jimin breathing down your next and critiquing everything you do slightly wrong.

Perhaps it is simply the fact that the two of you are so inherently connected, lost within the other that you don't even have time to worry about the movements, you just move. The music finding its story within your hearts, and crafting it through your dance.

All you know is that this is the best performance you have ever done.

And when it comes to the final part, the climax, the part you've always fumbled about, this time you're able to execute it perfectly.

And as you fall safely in his arms, tangling your hands in his hair as you wrap yourself around him, and he draws closer and closer to the ground; you turn to face him.

This move is perhaps the most intimate in the dance. Where the partner holds the other in his arms, her body draped over his arm as he slowly drops to bended knee. As though he were no longer holding his lover, but a broken version of what he once had, that had been fading away, drawing further and further from him this entire time. Hoseok, when crafting it, had wanted it to resemble the fallen hero as he cradles his forgotten lover dying in his arms. A cruel twist of fate, and the malicious bite that love can grip on the heart.

Yen is so lost within the song, so lost within him that when she opens her eyes, she doesn't realize just how intimate the move had become with the two of them as partners. When she danced with Jimin, she was never this close, her fingers had never found themselves weaving through his locks of hair, and she never had the strong desire to close what little distance was between them all to find out what his lips would taste like on hers.

No, nothing like what she feels now has ever happened before while dancing to this song. And yet, none of it feels wrong. None of it feels as though she shouldn't risk everything right then and there.

With lidded eyes, she runs her hand down his jawline to his chest, and almost closes the distance between them when the song ends, and, almost as though a switch had been turned off, she wakes up. As her wide eyes meet him, he already knows it's time to close whatever had begun to blossom, for he wakes up once more. And as he stands, pulling her to her feet beside him, it takes all he has to push her away. To let her go before he did something she would regret.

To end it before it starts.

But it’s already started, hasn't it?

It has ever since the first moment they laid eyes on each other, across that bridge.

And though she may not be aware of it, Taehyung most certainly is.

Chapter 59 here

note :: I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER FOR THE LONGEST TIME AHHHH it's like ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVS and the first time we really get to see just how these two really long to be together. PLUS IT'S ALSO WHERE WE CAN SEE EM FINALLY OWNING UP TO THEIR FEELINGS I hope you guys liked it as much as I do. But I will give you a warning...the story only gets darker from here on out...so be prepared.

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papirouge · 8 months

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omg so my brother is a passport bro. We live in the us. He was taught by tiktok podcasts and fully believed that American men were HIGHLY desired by “young sweet girls all over the world” unlike the women here who are all too old, ugly, fat, that will be lonely depressed cat ladies. So he drops out of university to go travel to Eastern Europe, South America with just a backpack hoping that he’ll marry a young girl and somehow, without a job, he’ll be taken care of by her and her family lol.

But he comes home a few days ago and he has a TANTRUM. He’s crying to my dad that he has no money, that feminism destroyed the world,. I’m home from university for a break and saw this. He was just whining that gold diggers are everywhere and that he can’t believe he was told he was fat and ugly to his face. I think he went to Columbia and Slovenia a lot? I don’t know those cultures personally so I can’t say.

My dad is being sympathetic because he’s a passport bro before passport bros were a thing. He’s been married multiple times to foreign women and his last marriage was to my mom who is chinese and who had me when she was young. My moms family doesn’t have a lot of money. But when she got her residency here, she left him. Shes more successful now. She’s been supporting me while I study but not my brother since my brother and I are half siblings that share the same dad. My brother never liked my mom and was always mean to her. You would think my brother would see how my dad is doing and think that trying to marry a girl who didn’t even speak the same language wasn’t going to work, but he still thought he was entitled to someone’s free labor. I leave for my university in a few days but it’s crazy to see my brother who had been so mean to me and call all kinds of misogynistic names now sobbing to me for money. I told him how he used to call me a gross lonely cat lady for liking cats in general but now expects me to help him. He went from being very apologetic, how he was just joking and was very insecure around me because I worked hard for my education while he didnt, but then he got angry when I didn’t coddle him. He’s been locked up in his room for a while now.

I mean, the fact he talking about travelling to meet "sweet GIRLS" unlike his local WOMEN is a major red flag ..

I'll never understand passport bro logic to travel and snatch "traditional women" and then expect them to coddle and take care of them. Why don't they understand that in traditional standards, the MAN is the one supposed to provide? A traditional minded woman will never respect a man that doesn't live up the standards of traditional masculinity. I think that's the reason behind these marriage failing. It would be awesome to have data about interracial marriage, the reason why they fail, who files for divorce, etc. (like they do with non mixed marriage)

There's a graphic circulating around showing the divorce rate dynamic between interracial marriage but results show very contradictory results and the source is behind a paywall....

These passport bro traveling the world and coming back seething against feminism having destroyed the world need a reality. Regardless where they live : women are women. OF COURSE they're going to prioritize themselves and move following their best interest as much as they can. Men do it all the time. But it becomes a problem when women prioritizing themselves means saying 'no' to men :)

And you're absolutely right to focus on your education. A few ago I left a scorching comment on a Black feminity channel who beefed with a participant that called out the channel for saying to girls that education wasn't that important. The channel owner got real MAD and called the participant bitter and unhappy in her life....when that person was highly educated, married and with a child 💀 I told her she had no reason to go off like that, even if she disagreed with the participant, assuming stuff about her personal life which was unasked for. What really stroke me is that the channel owner was always so pedantic in her videos, being like " Black women are too this or that" when she herself behaved like a ghetto Black women, unecessary catty & aggressive against that participant who was very eloquent and classy in her way of speaking. Like- you knew how smart she was by the tone of her voice 👀

That's why it's soooo important to pick good feminity channel. Many grifters jumped on the bandwagon but don't have what it takes to posture themselves as feminity guru. I think the channel owner - who's an esthetician - was pressed that a much more educated Black women who has *everything* (a career, husband, child) was still disagreeing with her 💀 I think it triggered an inferiority complex that made her snap. I told her in my comment it was delusional to tell women that education wasn't important bc professional setting are where you can't find quality men. Like, yeah, there are more chance finding rich men at an engineering conference than a beauty salon, DUH! That's why education is important. You're doing good, girl 👍🏾

#answered

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blackrosesfanfic · 1 year

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Chapter 252

Cammie

I start to walk back out the room then sigh walking into the room. Hidila ass just sitting here crying. She was crying before I got in the shower. I figured the bitch was okay after she stopped crying the first time. I fall on top of her. She sucks her teeth pushing me to her feet. I lay on her legs and watch TV. I would fucking kill Lane if he put me through this. Well now Caden. But he has to get on my nerves somehow and I think he gonna be talkative. More so than Lane.

"Did they turn the thing off?" I say looking at the baby monitor.

"No, they are just playing separately. Lane is mad at Ike. He sighed like a grown stressed out man and walked away. He is Marco."

I smile. "Why you crying this time?"

She wipes her face. "He is with some girl and think I don't know."

"And we being okay with that? Since when?"

"It's not like I'm not giving him reasons to cheat. We haven't had sex in so long. I'm always gone or got some excuse."

I cut my eyes at her. "Who gives a fuck? Your marriage vows didn't say shit about if no sex fuck random bitches."

"I keep thinking what if he has a baby by one of those girls and the baby comes out talking and walking like normal kids. He'll probably leave me."

"I'm missing something." I sit up. "Why don't you just have his baby first?"

She starts crying all ugly and loud. She sucks it up. "And have another mute child!"

"That boy just needs his ass whooped. He fucking spoiled."

"They have been saying that violence won't help. It will just scare him more."

"I don't give a fuck if he gets scared at least his ass will talk. Scare some fucking words out his mouth. You won't me to beat his ass?"

Trey walks into the room. "Jay, what's this?"

I lay back on Hidila. "It's a nasty juice from the gym."

"He's not autistic. He does excellent on all his school stuff. He has friends from his speech classes. I even tried regular school but that stressed him out and had him doing bad in school."

"Oh." Trey says walking out. "Hold on."

"Well only thing you haven't tried is spanking his ass. You are going to be divorced and crying everyday and his ass gonna be fucking depressed too. Really not gonna fucking talk then."

"Thanks. You so positive."

Trey walks back in. "I put it on the iPad."

He hands Hidila the iPad. I sit up so I could see the screen. Someone was screaming really loud. I watch as the camera lands on Lane and Ike. Lane laughs like he was being tickled by millions of hands. I smile. He such a happy kid. All of a sudden the screaming starts again. I snatch the iPad and take it back.

"That's Ike!" I say staring at his mouth.

"I just don't understand." Hidila cries. "And laughing."

Lane was having a blast laughing at Ike then Trey. Suddenly the laughing stops and Lane and Ike start arguing. I close my mouth when Hidila snatches the iPad from me. Ike was talking clear as day. He cuts his eyes at the camera then he starts mumbling.

"What does he fucking mean he don't want to?" I snap outraged. "Lane!"

"He would talk to Lane just as good but not me." Trey says. "He must have forgot I was there."

I roll my eyes. "Or he needs a fucking beating. Talking about he not scared. What the fuck you mean? Spoiled. I wish my child would."

"But he's not your child." Hidila snaps.

"Clearly." I stand up off the couch. "Lane!"

He runs into the room. "I here."

"Are you being mean to Ike?" I bark.

"No."

"Why don't Ike want to talk?" I ask him.

He is in Hidila's face. "What the matter?"

She wipes her face unable to get her shit together. She shakes her head.

"Lane, why won't Ike talk to me?" I try to ask another way.

"You sad?" He says a little upset.

I suck my teeth. "She is sad because Ike doesn't want to talk to her. It makes her sad. Why doesn't Ike want to talk to her?"

"I get Ike." He runs away with a sad look on his face.

I blow. "He ignored the shit out of me."

Trey picks the monitor up. "Or did he pay attention to the right thing?"

"Ike, you mean!" Lane snaps.

"No I not!" He snaps throwing his toy.

Lane wasn't giving a shit. "You is! You mommy cry. Like Taden. You mommy crying."

"No her not."

"You did it! You mean!"

Ike matches out of the room. A few minutes later he matches into the room we are in. He freezes. Lane pushes him walking pass him to Hidila. He points at her.

"You see?"

Ike stomps his foot clearly upset. I look at Trey. He was frowning up his face like Lane. I swear they so much alike. Ike matches over to his mama then falls into her lap crying suddenly.

"Oh don't cry baby." She says standing him up. "I'm sorry. I'll stop crying. Please don't cry."

"You sad?" Lane asks touching her arm that's on Ike.

She tries but fails. "I just cry when you don't talk to me. I heard you talking to Lane and I just want you to talk to me. Not all the time. I just want to hear your voice talking to me. Just some times. Like you talk to Lane." She cries making every fucking body cry.

Lane nods his head. "Say yes maam."

"Yes maam." Ike whispers.

I cover my mouth to stop from screaming. She just stares at him crying. She hugs him then kisses Lane. Lane stands there pouting. He did such a good job. He doesn't even know what he has done. He just was fussing at Ike for making his mommy cry. He didn't know what it meant to her. He didn't know how much he helped.

"Stop crying." Lane snaps. "Say sorry, Ike. Say it!"

"No." Ike snaps hiding his face.

"You betta. I tell Nanma on you." He turns and runs out of the room.

He had enough. Trey grabs my waist pulling me. I look at him. He turns the monitor off and sits it down pulling me again. I walk with him out of the room. Yeah he is right. They do need their moment. At least he said something to her. He may not talk for months but he fucking answered her like Lane told him to. That's probably why he started to talk to Lane because he was so fucking bossy and didn't understand why Ike wouldn't talk.

Trey

"Nigga calm down. Say what?" I snap walking into the empty studio.

"I'm sick of this shit. One minute we getting somewhere and the next minute she treating me like her dog. No fucking emotions. Fake ass hell." He catches his breath but before I could talk he starts back talking. "I always wondered why she couldn't keep a fucking man. If this how her ass treated him then I fucking know why. Hell if Imma be that nigga. You know how many bitches wanna have my baby?"

I cut him off before he starts again. "Nigga fuck how many bitches wanna have your baby. Focus on the one having your baby. It's already being made nigga. The little toes and little nose. They even born with fucking sex organs. That's creepy. Just a bit."

He sucks his teeth. "Sex organs?"

"Tiny little weiners." I laugh. "Hopefully you have a boy this time."

"Yeah but I can't be excited."

"Chris she is pregnant. She gonna have good days and fucking bad days. She can't help that shit. Do you not remember my fucking wife pregnant? Fucking MiMi pregnant? Lane knew the fucking deal. He was so damn whiny when she was pregnant."

"Your little dick ass son still whiny."

I laugh. At least I got him calm. "That's not the point."

"I should have done this high." Chris blows.

"Naw, stupidness." I shake my head. "As long as you did it in public they gonna act discreet. Won't be like if you were home. It'll be cool."

The door opens. "Why you in here in the dark talking on the phone?"

"Minding my business." I say to MiMi.

"Yeah, okay." She picks up a blanket walking back out.

"Who that?" Chris asks.

I sigh as the door opens back up. Lane walks in the door as it is being held open.

"It dark." He says going for the light.

"Why you sitting in the dark?" Cammie asks after Lane turns the light on.

I hold the phone up. "Talking to Chris."

"In the dark?"

"Chris say hey." I turn it on speaker.

"Cammie, I'm bout to go to this dinner." He sighs. "I wanna walk away."

Cammie sucks her teeth. "Walk away from what? You can't say no shit like that to me. I'm bout to start acting like it's January 4 years ago."

"Four years ago? I ain't walk..."

"She talking bout our situation with Lane."

Chris sucks his teeth. "I ain't walking away from her, just this dinner. She saying some shit that got me thinking but I ain't leaving my baby. I love my kids."

"Well walking away from something that is important to her is the same as walking away from her. How would you feel if your overbearing never satisfied parents were about to find out you pregnant and not married? And pregnant by America's bad boy? They gonna fuss at her. How she feeling?"

"Aight Cammie. Damn."

Cammie shrugs walking back out. "Yall really need to talk before the dinner. Maybe cancel it. Do it at a later time."

"They might find out before that. If Royalty finds out it's gonna be everywhere. Immediately. I mean she just a baby but her mama. My exes. Social media love finding my shit. I'm not you and Trey."

"That's fine. Talk now then. She done working?"

He sucks his teeth again. "She was acting distant I left."

"Christopher." Cammie sucks her teeth. "You got to fight back. Stop running before you forget what you want and where you want it to go. It's easy to walk away from someone who being a bitch but it's temporary. You figure out if she worth it. Cause loving the baby clearly ain't the problem for you."

"Aight bye."

"Christophluwall?"

He mumbles something. "Imma talk to her now."

"She loves you!"

"Bye." He says hanging up.

Cammie points at me. "I'm not gonna take you hiding in dark rooms whispering sweet nothings to Chris. Let him be his own man."

"I got to help."

"You fixed your shit at home yet?"

I frown. "Did I not?"

"Did we talk?"

I blow. "No."

"Okay then."

Lane looks at me with his face balled up. He hunches his little shoulders and points at me. Imma beat his grown little ass. He follows behind Cammie as she walks out. Cammie always calling people shit out. We haven't had a chance to talk. It's hard with a house full of people and children everywhere. I wish I could go back in time and have the time Chris fucking up. Me and Cammie going to tell her disappointed parents that she pregnant and not married. My poor wife had to deal with this alone. She had to tell her parents alone. Shit she had to tell them that the father wasn't in her or the baby's life. How disappointed were they? Damn. I wish I was there for her. But I can't turn back the hands of time. So caught up in my shit I never sat down with her parents like I'm marrying your daughter. I did everything wrong. He in such a better place and doesn't appreciate it. But my wife right. I got to fix my shit first.

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frogsandfries · 8 months

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I don't know what's got me on this, but I'm really down in my feels on my whole fertility thing.....

I don't think it's POI, so that should have me feeling positive. I really think it's somehow related to the onset of my depression, though I have no idea how and even less of an idea how to get a gyno to investigate that for me....... All I can think was, depression is your body thinking it's protecting itself. How was it I heard explained once: You're a cave man* and you're really sinking all your time and energy into this project and it's not working out and it's becoming winter. You can't pour the same energy into this project in winter, it might literally kill you, so your body shuts down.

My depression set in when I had a glimpse of life without the..... person who gave birth to me, and then that opportunity seemed snatched away. My body shut down.

I was watching the new video by Mama Doctor Jones on YouTube about the gal who believes/understands that she had POI and her experience wasn't my experience at all (she's black so getting a doctor to listen to her, take her seriously, never even mind treat her makes me want to grind my teeth into paste; working in healthcare, I hear this all the time and it pisses me off, Idon't know what else to recommend except asking the doctor to document refusal to treat, and I'm really glad I learned that). I strongly do not believe I have POI; I only had one of the listed, common symptoms and I never experienced hot flashes. I've only experienced night sweating since starting my anti-d. I have no problem with vaginal elasticity or dryness, sorry for the TMI. Sooooooooooooo............

My body went through nearly ten years of damage from depression. I'm only just now getting any kind of hint of normal Flow, again, sorry for TMI, but also this is cut, so you're here voluntarily. I guess I'm lucky that I had a chance to get steep intervention to begin, but now any further solutions are coming out of my own pocket.

I'm pretty terrible at making friends, never even mind meeting people. I considered joining the book binding group here, but........ compared to what I could be joining in my "hometown"........... it just made me sad and kinda frustrated. I wanna make beautiful, proper books, not necessarily Shereen LaPlantz artsy objet d'fartsy books.

A "friend's" parents suggested to me to join a church, but that feels disingenuous, considering, y'know, I'm more atheist than agnostic. I don't need the threat of some post-life "paradise" being withheld from me to cause me to be a good person. I do good and am I good person because I like having good things happen and be done to me, and when you are a good person, more good comes back to you. I am, intrinsically, a selfish, self-interested being like a great many other creatures on this planet.

Anyway, church feels like lying, but where the fuck else am I supposed to meet anybody? How?? You don't really go to cafes to meet people. The book making group meets practically outside of the city. The city I live in now isn't like, the most creative place to be........ I'm the worst at socializing on the internet in places like Facebook groups, Discords, anywhere that people might interact in real time. I just get lost doing my thing here irl.

I guess I just feel kinda doomed. Most of the guys in the local dating scene are......... so outdoorsy and I'm a real homebody. You can't really bind a book while hiking. Plus, no one really replies, or if they do, turns out they're boring.

I should take a shower and go to bed......

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celestialspecial · 2 years

Text

These Beautiful Torments (Pt. 4)

Recovering from the fight that has left him badly wounded both physically and mentally Billy tries to piece together the parts of his past. To remember who he is, or was, but it’s never that easy is it?

Warnings: Trauma, Depression, Smut (18+), Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy- Canon? We don’t know her. (If I missed any feel free to let me know)

It had been enough time that you decided you should go back and visit Billy. Your stomach had been roiling thinking about it all morning, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. Even if you couldn’t talk like you used to, just being near him, knowing he was alive brought you some semblance of peace.

You found yourself walking more slowly down the hall, it wasn’t because you’d just passed 20 weeks, but rather you felt nervous about seeing him. More than you had in a while. What if he asked you to leave?

What if he refused to talk to you? What if Krista had somehow gotten him on her side completely and he wanted nothing to do with you? You stood frozen, hand on the doorknob before you took a deep breath pushing it open and walking into the space.

Scanning the room you saw Billy in bed, sleeping. His chest rising and falling softly, making your heart tighten. His mask was askew, sliding off on one side and you could see a spiderweb of scars underneath, still red but they looked so much better than they had months ago. He was physically healing, maybe the mental and emotional healing was taking place underneath the surface too.

You sat in your usual spot, taking out a book to read to him. Just like before, when he was in a coma and you’d just sit. Sit and read. Your book today was Harry Potter. On one of your first dates he’d mentioned he was in his late twenties when he first read it, this macho CEO man, former marine, sharing this with you and he’d positively gushed about how he enjoyed it. It’d melted your heart and showed you that he was more than met the eyes.

Pushing the bookmark off to the side you began reading, it went on for about 30 minutes. He was still fast asleep and you assumed maybe his physical fitness rehab had gotten more intense the day before which was why he was so tired today.

Shifting your attention back to the page, accidentally knocking the bookmark off onto the floor. You stifled a groan at the thought of trying to bend over and retrieve it, a much more prominent bump now beginning to make things more difficult.

Clasping the side of the bed for stability you bent over, snatching the bookmark up and then you felt a firm hand grip your wrist. You almost shrieked, looking up into Billy’s eyes, mask back in place. How long had he been awake?

Maybe you’d scared him, causing this reaction. Your faces were about an inch from one another, you could see into the depths of his eyes, as he scanned your face, the wild look fading away as he recognized who you were.

“Sorry…are you alright?” He asked, letting his grip loosen, but not let go. His wrist was still handcuffed to the bed, but you must have put your hand down to brace yourself in the small area he had movement.

“Y-yeah. You just scared me is all. I thought you were asleep.” His eyes never left yours, nor did his hand let you go, it was difficult to maneuver back into place, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks the longer his gaze lingered. Questioning, but also something else, he’d looked at you similarly the day you’d been introduced.

He’d looked so handsome standing at the bar in his suit, hair slicked back. You’d hesitated before walking over, Karen nudged your back, whispering in your ear, “come on it’ll be fine!” Frank had just laughed loudly at something Billy had said. Then his gaze fell onto you. You had always brushed off the idea that chemistry or connection could be there immediately but with him it was, and it felt so-easy. His look sent shivers down your spine, tingling in your fingertips, pure carnal attraction, that then flourished into even more.

You saw it in his eyes now. That desire, sparking in his eyes that no mask could cover. His grip loosened and you were able to pull your hand free, letting it trail up his arm, dancing over his shoulder, and onto his neck, you could feel his breath catch. Boldened by this response you continued upward, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. Tickling over his ear and scraping against the base of his skull, the fuzzy softness of his hair that had grown back little by little.

You could hear him let out a small moan behind the plastic, eyes closing in ecstasy. Was the last time he felt comforting touch the night it all went to hell? Did Krista ever try to touch him out of comfort? Hold his hand? You felt a spark of rage thinking about it, even if she meant well and it was only brief. He was yours. Just as much as you were still his. You moved closer, wrapping your other arm around the back of his neck, your faces now practically touching. Breathing deeply in the scent of him.

It’d been so long, so very long, and just being able to be close to him was filling a longing in you that you didn’t realize was slowly eating away inside. His eyes opened again staring back into yours, an edge, and you understood, he wished to freely touch you as much as you touched him. This was grounds for getting kicked out of the hospital, you knew that, but you didn’t care. It was just you and him, breathing softly, relishing this fleeting moment of companionship, then he looked down.

His eyes froze, and you spent half a second wondering why when you quickly realized. Your cardigan, no longer lumped into your lap concealing the obvious rounded bump peeking out. The frigid icy panic swept through you, as you let go of holding him, pushing back into your seat, book and bookmark forgotten. Then those glistening eyes blinked upwards again, you couldn’t pinpoint if it was anger or pure betrayal. You just wanted one positive day with him, apparently that was too much to ask.

“You’re pregnant.” He stated, even after you’d rearranged your clothing to somewhat cover your torso fruitlessly. You fumbled to find words, to de-escalate the situation. He didn’t seem mad, more hurt, troubled. Why lie to him? What would be the point?

“Yes. I am.” You choked out the response, avidly paying attention to him. He seemed frozen to the spot, eyes locked on you but occasionally dipping down lower.

“I didn’t know you were in a relationship.” Hurt. Pure and utter hurt. You fought to figure out what the right response was to that. He assumed you were with someone else, that that was their child.

Billy watched you waiting for your response, the pain that seized his chest felt unbearable. He didn’t know he was still capable of feeling disappointment so deeply. He’d been so sure, that you two had been together, that you were more than just friends and when he clasped your wrist today and felt your hands on him he was positive of it. Maybe you two had been and he’d fucked it up somehow, maybe you’d broken up a while ago and he just couldn’t recall.

Regardless he felt terrible. There was no searing pain in his head, it had all relocated to his chest. He waited to hear your answer, you looked so…sad. How was it that you both were unhappy with whatever this was?

“I’m not in another relationship. It’s…Billy it’s complicated.” He did his best to nod, out of fear of not seeing you again. He couldn’t stand that, didn’t want to risk never seeing you again.

“I…understand.” He didn’t but he wanted to. “Please, don’t go.” He managed to get out, watching your face to gauge where your mind was. You nodded, lifting the book in question to which he nodded again. Trying his best to just listen to your voice, soft and lilting, but he couldn’t help his eyes wandering back to the bump under your sweater.

You’d been back multiple times over the next few weeks, always purposefully missing the days when Krista would be there for therapy. Billy knew that you two did not see eye to eye and as entertaining as it would be to see the two of you go head to head he was grateful for the peace.

You’d come in and read or you’d talk. He’d ask questions, what your favorite color was, what music you liked, what you enjoyed doing. With each answer he felt parts of you reappearing in his memory. Faint but recognizable. One day he’d asked about your favorite movie, but a blip in his mind said ‘Beauty and the Beast’, both of you speaking it out loud at the same time. When you smiled the biggest he’d ever seen a part of his soul cracked open.

He hadn’t been brave enough to question further about your condition, or if there was another man in your life somewhere. It felt nice to pretend like there wasn’t, but the evidence was there, and growing everyday. Now that he knew it was hard for him not to notice, you’d catch him staring and he’d do his best to look away. One day he’d push the issue, but not now, not when he was remembering things, not when he was simply happy to just have you by his side.

You were sitting , readjusting your position before asking Billy another question when you felt it. A little flurry of sensations in your belly. It felt like tiny bubbles being blown then gently popping, your hand immediately went to your stomach, running over the side trying to make sense of the feeling.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sitting up straighter in bed, getting a better look at what you were doing. The feeling continued, not painful, just…bizarre. You’d heard it described to you by your doctor but feeling it was so strange. You let your hand rest in the area before looking up to meet Billy’s worried eyes,

“It’s moving.” You couldn’t think of other words to say, too caught off guard yourself. Glancing over to Billy, his intense focus fixated on you, concerned. He cocked his head to the side, watching your hands smooth down your top.

“Can I …feel?” He knew it might be an out of bounds question, too prying or insensitive but he was so curious. You’d nodded and slowly stood up, taking a step closer to the bed, careful not to kick over your bag with the stack of books you two had agreed to read next. His hand could only reach so far, but you made sure you were within range, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to the side you’d felt the most movement.

It wasn’t strong kicks like you’d expect in later months, but the sensation was strong, very present, you were sure it could be felt from the outside as well. His large hand pressed against your belly, warm, just like you’d remembered. It took a few moments but then another bout of flutters came full force and you knew he could feel it by the way his eyes grew larger behind his mask.

A childlike wonder seemed to overtake him as he grazed his hand along the front of your stomach, eyes crinkling as he noticed the movements followed his hand, he even let out a small chuckle at one of the bigger motions bubbling underneath.

“He likes you.” You’d mused, not realizing the size of the smile on your face. Billy didn’t take his eyes from where his hand rested but asked,

“He?”

“We’ll I don’t know for sure if it’s a boy, but my friend is convinced it is.” His open palm swiped along your side again, you couldn’t tell what tickled more the small flutters or where his fingers dragged along following the movements.

“I like him too.” It took everything inside you not to cry, to burst into waterworks, to just outright tell him the whole truth.

You weighed the consequences when you heard footsteps approaching from outside. Billy heard them too and reluctantly removed his hand from your bump, allowing you to move backwards and reclaim your seated position. A doctor walked in and you let out a breath you’d been holding in anticipation of his therapist. The doctor eyed you questioningly but went on to check Billy’s vitals, writing down some notes and asking a few haphazard questions. After he leaves you find yourself reaching forward and taking Billy’s hand in you own.

His almost jumps at the contact, you feel so warm, so good, even this tiny gesture makes his heart stutter in his chest. You lean forward and rest your forehead on the palm of his upturned hand, he lets out a shaky breath, looking down at your head resting on him, as much as it can be given the circumstances. He didn’t care what your past was, who the child belonged to, all he wanted was you. All of you. And he needed to formulate a plan to make that happen.

After you realized the visiting hours were ending an overwhelming feeling of sadness took over. The idea of leaving Billy today just felt so much more difficult. Knowing he was here alone ,made your heart ache. Lifting your head you saw he was still looking down at you, head rested against his pillow. You moved slowly, carefully, until your face was close to his again, resting your forehead to his through the mask.

Placing your hands on either side of his face, watching him blink slowly trying to absorb the contact fully before locking on your face again.

“May I?” You questioned, one hand tracing along the elastic that tied behind his head. You could see a flash of panic in his eyes but after a brief moment of thought he nodded, slowly. Your hands found their way to the back of his head, deftly working the thin elastic up and over. Allowing the mask to drop down into his lap on the bed.

You felt your breath catch in your chest, taking him in fully for the first time in months. The scars were still prevalent, decorating his features in a macabre way but the face you’d first fallen in love with was still there. You let your fingers caress the side of his face, exploring his hair line, then resting on his cheek. He leaned into the contact eyes fully closing in bliss. You couldn’t drag your eyes from his face. Your heart felt like it wanted to burst out of your chest, he was still just as handsome as you remembered.

Your foreheads were touching again, feeling skin to skin contact with him once more brought an overwhelming feeling of peace. When your eyes drifted up you saw his were open too. The pull towards one another felt natural, both of you drifting closer until you felt his lips settle on yours. It started soft, testing the waters, his warm breath on your cheek, the taste of his lips filling you with warmth. It felt just like it used to and you sighed into the kiss, letting out a soft moan at the contact, this seemed to urge Billy on further.

The kiss turned hungry, both of you dying for oxygen that seemed to only be found in the others mouth. Your hands wound around the base of his neck before scaling upwards, nails scratching through his close cropped hair. He let out a groan in response, tongue searching your mouth, covering every inch of space he could find. You leaned forward as far as you could go, realizing your belly had bumped up against the side of his hospital bed, preventing you from covering him any more.

After a long and yet too short span of time your lips separated, Billy letting out a needy sound at the lack of contact that you couldn’t help but chuckle at.

“I have to go.” You resigned yourself to saying.

“I…know.” He truly looked pathetic in bed now, sad, shoulders slumping watching you ungracefully bend to pick up your things. “Come back tomorrow?” He asked, hating how much it sounded like begging, but he was. He was begging you. You moved over to him planting another kiss chastely on his lips, knowing if you did anything more you wouldn’t be able to leave .

“Yes. Oh and Billy?” His focus hadn’t moved from you even as you began crossing the floor. “You are a good kisser.”

That night you tossed and turned, all you could think about was his lips on yours, dying for his touch, then mercifully sleep claimed you.

Billy’s lips were on you again, forcefully, beautifully. Your back pressed up against the cold metal of his car door. His hands snaked around lower back , pulling you more flush to his body and you moaned at the feeling of your breasts achingly pressed right to his chest. Nipples stiffening behind your shirt, he groaned feeling your heated arousal spiking as well. You both fumbled to open the car door, falling into the back seat, knowing you’d never be able to wait until you got home.

Billy nipped at your neck, finding the soft spot by your collar bone biting down and squeezing the flesh of your hips when you cried out in pain and pleasure. His hands ran up your thighs, rucking your dress up higher and higher, rough calloused palms easing up your inner thighs. You whimpered opening your legs further to give him more access to you but he moved his hands back down causing you to whimper at the teasing.

“Ah ah ah no need to be greedy sweet thing.” He purred, hands delving behind your knees and moving you over his right thigh, setting you down so you were sitting right on his thick muscled quad. You moaned at the pressure, sinking down onto his leg, your aching clit begging for more. “Ride it.” He bounced his thigh upwards, making you cry out, clenching the front of his dress shirt tighter.

“You’re being mean.” You ground out, a half smirk playing on your lips. But you couldn’t help it, giving in and grinding against his thigh, letting broken whimpers escape as he watched you completely enthralled.

“Mean? Baby girl…I’m about to give you the fuckin world.” His hands gripped tighter on your hips forcing you downwards on your next thrust, crying out as pleasure sparked up through your core. Your panties were soaked through and useless, arousal dripping out of you and coating his pant leg. Billy groaned, a low deep rumble in his chest as he realized how wet you’d become. “Making a fuckin mess on my expensive slacks?” He surged forward claiming a searing kiss on your swollen lips, hand pulling at the strands at the base of your neck. “So good for me.”

Your hip movements were becoming erratic and you knew you were close, each drag of the fabric against your center was pulling soft whines from you, Billy’s hands moved in time with your hips, pushing and pulling, milking the orgasm out of you in a way only he could. His eyes were shining watching you as you broke apart, you let out a strangled cry feeling your orgasm rip through you , as he lifted his thigh a few more times increasing the pressure as you rode out the waves of bliss.

Collapsing against his chest, pulling you more fully into his lap, brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your forehead, planting a kiss there for good measure. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go home and get you washed up. Then we can continue where we left off.” You hummed softly against him, burying your face into his shoulder breathing in deeply the scent of him.

You rolled over hearing the sound of your alarm clock going off, groaning at the intrusion to your perfectly lovely dream. You could feel how wet you were, just thinking about him, rubbing your thighs together, looking for some motivation to get up and going. You felt a sharp kick alerting you that you weren’t the only one awake. Running a hand over your swollen stomach, only to be greeted by another swift kick up by your ribs. “Ow! Ok that one hurt.” You grunted, reaching for your phone, hoping you could convince Karen to meet you out for lunch before you headed to the hospital.

“Hello!”

“Wow you sound cheery.” You laughed after Karen picked up on the first ring.

“I’ve been up for hours and have had at least 3 cups of coffee. Ya know work stuff.”

“Lunch? Sounds like you deserve a break.”

“Yes please, meet in an hour..?” You agreed, hastily taking shower and throwing on a dress since it actually looked like the weather would cooperate today.

Meeting up at the restaurant, your mind still thinking about yesterday with Billy, how excited you were to see him today. Karen squealed when she saw you, you returned the sentiment. She’d been working like crazy recently and you hadn’t seen her since your last pizza date.

“Look at you!!” She exclaimed, Hands immediately going for your bump and giving it a rub for good luck. “How are you feeling? You look great!” You found heat rising in your face at her words, still getting used to this new body and each day was a new adventure.

“I feel great, but I need to sit and I need food.”

“Duh, of course you do!” She joked, putting an arm around your shoulders and opening the door for you both to step inside.

After a huge meal that left both of you a tad tired Karen looked over at you, face suddenly more serious,

“So I found some stuff. On Rawlins and Billy’s dealings with him.” Your heart skipped a beat, causing you to sit up straighter.

“Shit. Was it…was it bad?” She shook her head.

“Rawlins always wanted Billy to take the fall. Had asked Billy to kill someone who posed a threat but I guess he refused, when he did Rawlins made plans to remove Billy from his list of confidants and have him taken care of. He also was the one who carried out the execution of Frank’s family. Apparently Billy was supposed to be a part of the team that did it but he wasn’t there.”

Your mind was moving a mile a minute, trying to process everything Karen had shared.

“Was he just…not there.. How did you learn all this?”

“I don’t know for sure if he tried to stop it or if he just wasn’t there.” Karen admitted defeatedly. Your excitement sank at that , you needed to know more. “I’ll obviously keep searching for more, if there is anything. Aaaaand I can’t tell you. It’s probably best you don’t know.” You nodded, catching her drift. After a second she responded- “How…how did your meeting with frank go?”

“As well as could be expected. He obviously doesn’t believe Billy is guilt free. I…I want to give that to him, for all of us. To prove that our friend,” you paused for a moment, "and my child’s father isn’t this horrible person the world has made him out to be.” Karen nodded, eyes full of understanding and sympathy.

“I’ll keep looking.” You took her hand in both of yours, squeezing them in thanks.

“Be careful Karen. Maybe it’d be best if I do some digging myself.”

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #Jigsaw!billyrusso #jigsaw!billyrusso x reader #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #frank castle #ben barnes #ben barnes character #Billy Russo x Reader #billy russo x female reader #punisher fanfiction

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cartierbin · 3 years

Note

hey i’m new here, i read some of your works and !! OMG YOU’RE SO TALENTED , and also i just want you to ruin me buT i’m 100% bratty 🙄 soo , for the request, can i ask jeongin!dilf au pls :((

thank you sm baby. and lmao. I got you.

『 pairing — jeongin x reader

genre — smut, + a stressed, single father dilf!jeongin fucking his masseuse

word count — 1.687k 』

smut under the cut !

out of all the things jeongin could’ve done to take away his fatherly stress, a massage wasn’t one of them. no seriously. usually, an hour or two of hitting the punching bag or doing a couple of weight reps brought him to relaxation the way he needed. but with the mother of his twin daughters refusing to help out at all with them, he was stressed more than usual. and this kind of stressed caused him to be kind of desperate.

he was clicking around on his phone before he found the place. a massage therapy building that he somehow never noticed was that close to his house. on their website at least, they guaranteed that the service they give will bring him to the nirvana that he was looking for. he wasn’t going to second guess anything no— he needed this. he kisses his babies on their forehead before sending them off to his mother’s house for the night.

when he arrived at the building he gave the receptionist his name to which she exchanged confirmation of his paid visit. she nodded, sliding her swivel chair back and reaching into the room right beside her desk to give him a towel. “you can change it the room over there love”. he smiled and thanked her, more than glad to shed his clothing and hurry on with this. for some reason he felt kind of antsy, he could wait for his stress to become undone with all the knots in his muscles and back. but once he was finished you might as well couldve said you were unprepared for the appointment. you had your materials and the table ready yes, but you were nowhere near prepared to massage a gorgeous, five foot seven man with chiseled abs, a sharp jawline in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he smiled sweetly when he entered, you tried your best to keep your attention off the chain that sat atop of his prominent collar bones and instead focus on the client at hand. but god, your stomach was churning.

“good evening are you yang jeongin?”. you spoke meekly, surprised that you could even get a word out with how ethereal he actually was. he nods. you used a hand to guide him to the massage table and he obliged, quite fond with the decor of the place. he appreciate the fact that it was dark and you allowed candles to scent and heat up the room. he also appreciate the soft red glow lights in the corners of the room, illuminating it in a rather sexy way. he pushed the unholy thoughts to the back of his mind and started getting comfortable, trying to remember that he came here for a massage and massage only. “do you have any music suggestions? I have a soft playlist if not”. the blonde haired man shook his head no while laying his head on his forearms, giving you a perfect view of the tricep muscles in his back. you gulped, positioning your oils on the tray right beside you. you rushed to press play on the music to keep your thoughts on your job.

you shifted the towel down a bit lower and started spilling the warm vanilla scented oil down the span of his back, which already drew him in. he loved the scent dearly. he also loved the way your warm hands applied pressure to the places he needed most. a serene feeling washes over him and he could feel himself relax almost immediately. you glide your hands up the length of his back and shoulders and knead the tension and knots away, you could’ve sworn you heard a soft groan from him in response. nevertheless you continued your ministrations, feeling for other knots that needed to be worked out. jeongin could safely say that he’s hardly ever felt this kind of relaxation before. maybe he should’ve came here sooner. he makes another small noise, one that was rather suggestive, one that had you internally crumbling above him.

“feels good?”. you hum, kneading out other small kinks with your thumbs. he hums and shakes his head yes, feeling quite blissful if he might say so himself. you giggle above him, “you know, the noises you’re making tells it all”. he speaks in choked breaths. “yeah it feels— good, damn— I wasn’t expecting this”. you roam your hands around his body covering it with oil, his tan skin glistens under the red lighting. “is this your first full body massage?”. he nods again. “my first massage ever. I don’t really do this. usually I work out but I’ve been stressed like hell. I need this”. he couldn’t see you and you know it, but you pout your lips anyway. “what’s got a gorgeous man like you so stressed?”. from above you could see his eyes closed, and a small dimple depressing into his cheek as he smiled, appreciating the compliment. “a lot actually. mainly the mother of my girls”. you squeeze another bit of oil into the palm of your hands and this time use them to work the muscles along his neck and arms. you were glad he was laying on his stomach, this mean he couldn’t see the surprised expression you were making.

“girls? you have kids?”. you ask awaiting an answer. to your surprise he nods his head. “yes two of them. they’re twins. lily and lana”. he groans again, making your heart pound that much harder. you distract yourself with conversation. “wow. twins?”. he nods. “you sound shocked”. “yeah I mean... you look like you’re way too young to be a dad. I guess I wasn’t expecting that”. you laugh a little. “I get that a lot”. your hands gradually moved to every part of his upper half, giving it the attention it craved. the fact that he was a dad surprised the hell out of you. he looked as though he was maybe 19, 20 maybe. either way it goes you already decided in your mind that he was an absolute dilf. you worked in silence for the time being, wallowing in the small sounds he made and trying to keep moisture from pooling between your legs in the process. now covered in oil and feeling hands move all around his body, jeongin didn’t know how much more of himself he could help. he was growing hard at the thought of your oily hands sliding up and down his cock. the massage was great. amazing even. but he needed something more. as you edged the towel down his waist he reached back and grabbed your wrist.

“before you continue, can you do me a favor?”. your mind spun at his question. “what is it?”. jeongin breathed. “you’re really good at your job and it’s working but I think I need something more— and I’ll pay you extra just to have if it you keep things confidential between us”. by now your heart was racing. you licked your lips, the room all of a sudden becoming much hotter. “what do you need?”.

“I need to fuck you”. you gulped at how straightforward he was. but the prompt wasn’t unwelcomed. you just didn’t know what to say. he sat up, feeling like maybe he went too far. “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to I’m just really stressed and I need to take the edge off”. you chewed on the insides of your cheeks. “it’ll be confidential..right?”. he nods. “I won’t tell a soul”. truthfully you didn’t mind being used by him, only you didn’t know how to initiate things so you stood there awkwardly. “I don’t know what to do”. you spoke in a soft gentle voice, matching the vibe of the background music. he pulled you closer to him by the hem of your white masseuse coat, taking his fingers and unbuttoning the shirt you had underneath it. your voice vanished once his lips attached themselves to your nipples, suckling them obediently while groping the cheeks of your ass. you could only throw your head back and let air flow from your lips, the feeling of his soft lips on you was becoming indescribable. the more he sucked the more clothes he took off of you. your jacket was glided off your shoulders as well as your shirt and now he was working his hand around to the button of your pants. he refused to just shed your pants without feeling you first. so on that note his hand dipped into your panties and his fingers brush against your sopping wet lips. you gasp feeling them breach you, twisting and turning inside of you trying to feel the spot that made you make the most noise. they soon found what they were looking for eliciting unholy moans from your throat. “your moans are so fucking sexy”, he growled, becoming more animalistic in his ways, licking and biting your neck in lust.

his fingers moved at an excruciating pace in the ridges of your wet hole and you felt weaker at his touch. you were so clouded you hadn’t realize that he already snatched off your panties and you were fully nude, clinging against his oily body while he was finger fucking you into oblivion. the tent underneath the towel was evident, and he acted on it as soon as he felt his tip throbbing in need. he substitutes you on the table instead of himself, removing the towel around his waist and positioning you on your stomach. he pooled some oil in the palm of his hand and rubs it over your back and most importantly over the curve of your ass, watching your skin gleam before he tosses the now empty oil bottle on the floor. he uses his hand to feel your pussy lips from behind, sliding it in between your slit whilst pressing his wet lips against your ear. “just let me use you. I won’t be long”. he made his word his bond, using a veiny hand to grip the edge of the table for leverage and shoving his dick inside you just like that. you yelped, suddenly remembering that you had to keep your noises at a low volume. he sits up and grips the cheeks of your ass, watching the rolls in your backside become more prominent the more he fucked into you. “fuckk this is it”. he groaned now taking a slower pace just so he could hear your oily counterparts slap against each other. he threw his head back and licks his lips in daze, forgetting about his life’s troubles and focusing on the way your walls clenched around him so well. you bit the leather of the massage pillow trying to keep yourself from going insane.

he was riding your ass slow and steady, rocking his hips into your pussy and admiring how much he made you stutter over your words. his body was draped over yours and his hand wrapped around your neck, necklace sweeping along the nape, gifting you low groans and curse words into your ear every chance he got. the way the table creaked each time he thrusted was an ego booster. he smirks and tongue kisses your cheeks without a care in a world for what an oily mess you both were. “you’re going to make me fucking cum, you know that?” he exhaled in the darkest voice he could muster. your eyes drove to the back of your head as his dick drove deeper into you. his strokes were painfully slow but you enjoyed each and every one of them, the tip was hitting spots that you thought only your dildo at home could reach. fire stirred at the pit of your stomach. you could feel yourself gushing with each move of his waist and it was driving you up a wall.

“oh my god”. you whined weakly, making him throb harshly inside you. he took his time to softly kiss down the spine of your back and work his way back up again to the back of your neck. It felt quite nice actually, romantic if you will. he slides a free hand over to intertwine with yours, while his tongue licks the undersides of your neck before delicately kissing those places as well. his lips landed on yours unexpectedly and he kissed you so passionately and careful you could’ve mistaken him for being in love with you. he hastens his pace while his tongue roams your mouth almost as if it were searching for something. you didn’t know what to focus on more, his sloppy tongue kisses or your much needed orgasm that was a second away from rippling through your body. either way you weren’t prepared for them both. streams of white ran down your thighs and he felt it all and groaned much louder. when he felt himself get close he parted the cheeks of your ass just so he could see your pussy getting filled with his seed, unbeknownst to you that he had a thing for cream pies.

he didn’t even give you time to relapse from it, he takes your chin and lands another wet kiss on your lips with his body still hovering over your now exhausted one. “thank you so fucking much. I’ll be booking another appointment soon”.

#jeongin smut #yang Jeongin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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interlunium-opus · 3 years

Text

No Place I’d Rather Be. [ Jay ]

[ Jay | fluff ]

Abstract: when you went to the library on the night when the Triennial Winter Ball was held, you expected to be all alone. But Jay, your best friend and the campus heartthrob is somehow already there waiting for you.

You stared out of the corridors of windows as you ascended up the staircase of the desolated library, your eyes fixated on the bustling crowd outside. It was the night the Triennial Winter Ball was held: basically the night everyone looked forward to the moment they started university. Unlike how dark, drab and quiet winter nights in campus usually are — tonight, the campus was alight with festive lights lining up the path leading up to the grand hall and students filtering in, decked in their “Sunday best”, filling the otherwise quiet night with cacophony of laughters, chatters, and whispers.

Standing in contrast with the crowd outside was you, all alone in the dimly-lit library, decked in monochrome with books in hand instead clinking glasses and waltzing with others in an elegant dress. You sighed as you thought to yourself, who am I kidding, my introverted soul wouldn’t last a minute in there.

“You’re late today.”

You jumped, startled, dropping some of the books you were carrying. Given the context of tonight, no one should have been in the library right now. Especially not the campus heartthrob and the social butterfly, Jay Park.

“Jay?” You called out, squinting your eyes to get a clearer view of the tall figure at the end of the aisle. The dim-lighting were of no help at all but the blonde locks and the deep voice were a massive giveaway, “wait..what are you doing here?!”

“You look petrified to see your own best friend, it’s almost heartbreaking,” Jay muttered sarcastically as he made his way towards you before reaching down to pick up the books you had dropped.

“Well, duh, no one should be here tonight especially not you,” you retorted as you walked towards your usual seat at the corner, the one with the large windows and dimmest lighting, “people are going to think that you got kidnapped or something and oh God, the amount of hearts you’re breaking tonight with your no-show.”

“Well, what’s your excuse?” Jay raised an eyebrow at you.

“Jay, we have been best friends for almost 2 years now, you know why I am not there — I would just combust,” you said as a matter-of-factly as you took a seat.

“But it’s our final year, you’ve got to make it count — socially I mean. And come on, it’s the Triennial Winter Ball not some frat party,” he grumbled as he sat on the armrest of the chair next to you with his body facing you and arms folded. Being a massive extrovert with a lifestyle that tends toward opulence — tonight’s extravagance was right up his alley and all month long he had been endlessly badgering you to attend it. Being the massive introvert you are though, the ball is basically the last thing you would want to attend.

That said, as incredulous as the friendship between the two of you are to many people, you two are polar opposites that complement one another in a way that two differently-shaped puzzle pieces can only fit one another. Being a social butterfly, your individualism, rationality and brilliant intellect really stood in stark contrast with the homogenous crowd and superficial conversations that he constantly surround himself with. With an equally subtle sarcastic dark humor to match, a tenacity like no others and a brilliant intellect that constantly challenge and stimulates his mind — you’re like an oasis in the desert.

Likewise, Jay, too, was like a breath of fresh air to you. You have had some initial reservations about him though. After all, he was more known for his lavish lifestyle and the parties he throw. But beyond those such fronts, Jay was highly knowledgable with strong passion for what he believes in — qualities of which really matched yours. Not to mention, being pragmatic and rational himself, he was one of the rare few people in your life that you don’t need to put up a social filter for as he is always able to objectively understand your views and opinions.

That is how you two end up going from being touted as the “cursed” pairing that was doomed to fail when you two were first paired for a project in “Modern Political Thought” module, to the Dream Team that ended up trouncing everyone else’s project, attaining the highest score out of everyone in class. In fact, you two just keep on surprising everyone by becoming almost inseparable even after the module ended.

“Who’s to say a couple of drinks isn’t going to turn a ball into a frat party?” You shot him an incredulous look before turning your attention to the books you were flipping, “… exam is around the corner anyway.”

“1.5 months away,” he emphasized as he lowered his head down to your level, peeking over your shoulders to take a closer look at your notes, “Seriously? you’re skipping tonight’s extravagance and festivities for Multivariate Functions and Lagrangian? I’d have let it slide if you were working on a prose instead.”

“Well what’s your excuse for being here then? I’m pretty sur-“ you stopped mid-sentence, caught off guard by how close his face actually was to yours when you looked up to face him. Jay’s face as usual was unperturbed, his blonde locks softly framed his chiseled face and his lips was pouty in concentration as his eyes travelled from one end of your notebook to the other before he turned his face slightly and met your gaze. You swore for a moment you felt your heart skip a beat but the moment one corner of his lips lifted into his signature lopsided grin, that thought immediately disappeared as you knew he was going to say something sarcastic or dramatic.

“How can I be so selfish and party away when my best friend is all sad and depressed alone in this library?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Jay, as if-”

“Also,” he suddenly interjected, “the girl that I asked out for tonight rejected me so….”

“Wait, what?!” You gasped, “The Jay Park got rejected?”

“I know right. She rejected an offer that millions would have killed for,” he shrugged as he straightened back up.

“Exactly! who in their right mind would- anyway, at the risk of sounding insensitive, couldn’t you have substituted her with other girls? Like you said, millions would have killed to be your date — you can just pick and choose.”

“Wow, ____, you really have ice in your veins don’t you?” he smirked.

“Whatever, just being rational.”

“I know. I definitely could. I mean the head cheerleader asked me out too so I could have just accepted it,” he murmured, “but...” he paused, “as cringeworthy as this sounds, 80% of the reason why I really looked forward to the ball was because I was looking forward to spending it with the girl who rejected me. So without her in the picture, the whole vision just suddenly lost its spark. Like… I’d rather just spend time with her then whether it is at a ball or library or wherever.”

“Oh…” you managed, unsure how to react, “that’s kind of… deep I guess. Well yeah, I mean if you still don’t feel bitter over her rejecting you then sure, you do you, go after her. Unless of course she’s at the ball with someone else then maybe not…”

Instead of responding promptly as he usually does, Jay just heaved a huge sigh as if he was disappointed or something. His eyes glued onto yours as if trying to pry some information out of your mind, “You know you’re awfully dense. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re too studious that it’s beginning to cost you your social skills or something?”

Jay has always been blunt but tonight, it was just on a different level. It was almost like he was here to intentionally grate you as if someone was actually keeping score. You retorted, “Excuse me. Did you just come all the way here to push my buttons? Because yo-“

You stopped mid-sentence again when he suddenly leaned closer towards you, his hands on either side of you, one on the edge of your table and the other, gripping your headrest, “I am already with her right now.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, your mind working on overdrive.

“Fine,” he uttered, ”let me spell it out for you — you’re the girl. You’re the one who rejected me. Twice.”

You opened your mouth to tell him to stop joking but his unperturbed facial expressions told you otherwise. Still in disbelief, you stammered, “No way — Me? When?! I mean we talked about the ball a couple of times but you’ve never… unless - wait… you were serious?”

You remembered it was a Saturday night, about 2 weeks ago at almost 4 AM when you and Jay was at the library burning the midnight oil. You were busy trying to finish up your Econometrics assignment while Jay, who had long given up with his Philosophy assignment, was engrossed in a movie marathon next to you.

“Ugh,” you groaned when your regression results turned ‘insignificant’. You turned your attention to the papers and books strewn across your desk, frantically flipping through the pages to see where the error could have been and how else can you rectify this.

“You need to sleep on it,” Jay murmured, casting worried glances at you, “You’ve been on it for hours.”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, your eyes scanning over your messy handwriting, “I’ll end up obsessing about it again at home so I definitely need to get to the bottom of this today, that’s the only way I can sleep.”

Jay sighed, pausing his movie and turning his attention fully towards you, “Fine. But you really need to reward yourself for working so hard this semester because otherwise, you’ll just burn out. Also, by reward, I did not mean hibernating.”

“Hmm,” you nodded absentmindedly when suddenly Jay snatched the pen you were using, “Hey ___ eyes on the person talking please. What did I just say?”

You rolled you eyes, relenting, “Something about rewarding myself and not hibernating — there, happy? Can I get my pen back?”

“Good,” Jay beamed, quickly pulling his hand away when you were about to snatch your pen back from his grasp, “The Triennial Winter Ball would be a good idea of a reward by the way.”

You scoffed, “Jay, that is probably your idea of a reward but it definitely won’t be mine. First, I’ve got to look all made up from top to bottom — that takes up too much resources for something an introvert like me possibly won’t even enjoy — that’s the equivalent of some floppy investment prospects right there.

“Secondly, I avoid crowds like the plague whenever I could help it and the ball has all the variables that could make me combust on spot: there are a lot people; a lot of emotions; a lot of expectations and — well, you get the picture.

“And finally, I would need to find someone to go with — again, too much trouble.“

“You have me, where’s the trouble in that?” he asserted, snatching your pencil case away this time when you were about to reach for it, “Just go with me then.”

“Yeah no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head, stretching your hand out to him, beckoning him to give your stationaries back, “Stop playing, give me my stationaries back.”

Ignoring your demand, he pressed on, “Why is that so ridiculous?”

You sighed, “Because A) everyone wants a piece of you so B) I’d be burnt at stake if we do go together. And also C) You should spend that special night with a special someone, not your best friend — come on, Jay, you need to work on your prioritization skill.”

“Wait — that was meant to be it?” You shrieked as you recalled the memory, “I mean, it just rolls so casually in our conversation — I couldn’t have possibly picked it up as serious. Anyway, fine — when was the other time?”

“Just a few days ago when I was sending you home,” Jay replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Jay remembered skipping dance practice that night, earning an earful from the instructor the next day, just so that he can walk you home after your Students’ Union meeting with the president, Yang Jungwon.

“You’re really set on not going to the ball?” Jay asked for the umpteenth time and you nodded.

“What if I tell you that I know someone who is thinking of asking you out for the ball?” Jay prodded, stopping you in your tracks, “I’m serious.”

“Still no.”

“I have not even told you who he was,” Jay grumbled.

“Fine, entertain me,” you relented.

“Jungwon.”

“Jay stop messing around.”

“I told you I’m serious, geez,” Jay said exasperatedly.

“But why — what is that kid thinking…”

“I don’t know — maybe you should stop having some night meetings with him alone before it grows into a full-blown crush or something,” Jay shrugged before you smack him lightly on the arm. “Ouch!” he whined, “Anyway so? Will that be a yes or a no?”

“Of course no, Jungwon’s a definite no.”

“Well, I saved him from a heartbreak then,” Jay mumbled.

“Huh?” You stared at him.

“Nothing,” Jay quipped, smiling sheepishly. The truth was, one of the reason why he insisted to walk you home tonight was because he overheard Jungwon telling Heeseung this morning that he definitely would ask you out to the ball after the meeting, perhaps right after, perhaps while walking you home. Knowing that someone as upright as Jungwon was going to ask you out, Jay thought he should have been elated for this might mean that you will actually come to the ball. But somehow, like a broken record, the conversation kept on playing in his mind all day during his classes, accompanied with the 1001 likely scenarios of how you’d likely respond to him. By the time night has set in, all he knew was that he was dead set on not letting Jungwon ask you out to the ball, by hook or by crook. He did not fully comprehend why, perhaps he just did not like Jungwon, he thought. Or maybe, he didn’t like you with Jungwon together — or perhaps, he actually didn’t like you with any other guys. Fortunately by the time he had reached the Student Centre of the Campus, completely out of breath that is, he can see that you and Jungwon were still discussing the union project. Once the meeting ended, as indicated by Jungwon switching the projector off, Jay just barged in, announcing that he’ll take you home much to your suprise and to Jungwon’s dismay.

“Why not though?” Jay suddenly asked, “I mean accepting Jungwon? He’s like the textbook example of an ideal guy: cute, smart, upright, overachiever and whatnot”

“Well, my good friend has a crush on him for the longest time so that’s one big reason,” you explained, “also, we don’t even know each other that well on a personal level for me to say yes to.”

“Then would you go with me instead?” Jay suddenly grabbed onto your hand, stopping you in your tracks, “I mean, if you’re worried about having a good time, wouldn’t I be ideal then?”

For a moment, silence engulfed the two of you as you two stared into one another’s eyes. You opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it, remembering how just this morning you overheard that the head cheerleader had asked Jay out, “Jay, just go with someone else more fitting okay? You don’t have to pity invite me or something, I’m fine. I heard the head cheerleader asked you out — isn’t that perfect? two campus heartthrobs together? You guys would be the talk of campus and the envy of many.”

Despite the praises, he could feel his heart sank. While it was not an explicit rejection, your nonchalance, for the second time, pricked him. Not one to be emotional, he plastered a smile as he slowly let your hand go, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh no, crap, I’m sorry Jay,” you sank in your seat as you stared at him in disbelief. No wonder, he looked so taken aback that night, you thought, and how cold he was the next day. “You know what, yeah I’m definitely dense — I think I traded my social skills for good grades. You can tease me with that all you want, I won’t even try to defend myself anymore.”

“Well, on the bright side, flirtations from others can’t get through to you — you’re like a fortress or something,” Jay chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry though really,” you bit your lip, apologetic, “What can I do to make it up to you? Oh you know what — that Michelin-starred restaurant that just opened up in the corner? How about I’ll treat you there for tomorrow? It’ll break my wallet but if it will unbreak what I’ve done to you -- I’d gladly commit to the splurge.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that materialistic,” Jay scoffed, “Do you mean it though, that you’ll do anything?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “Within moral and ethical bounds, that is.”

Suddenly Jay extended his hand towards you, beckoning you to take it.

“You’re not dragging me to the ball right now right?” you took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet, leading you towards a more spacious area, “We’re underdressed for it Jay. I mean look at me, I’m decked in monochrome -- I basically look like I’m mourning.”

He chuckled as he pulled out his AirPods case, taking out one and gently inserting it into your ear before inserting the other pair into his, “Don’t worry, there are no dress codes for our own private ball.”

Soft music started to play through the AirPods, it was “Best Part” by Daniel Caesar ft. H.E.R. “Just dance along with me alright? I don’t need to be splurged on,” Jay’s hand slowly snaked over your back, pulling you close to him as he carefully yet smoothly guide you to the melody of the music.

“Well, gotta warn you though,” you smiled sheepishly, “I’m bad at this so don’t sue me if I step on your Pradas.”

“Fine, exclusively for tonight, I’ll put my Pradas at risk,” he quipped, his eyes glued onto yours, “Say, if you had known that I was serious — would you have said ’yes’ to me?”

You looked up, meeting his warm gaze which somehow, perhaps due to the proximity, was making your heart skip a beat, “I think so? I mean, I hate crowds but you would usually make me forget that I was in one. Also, you’ve always said yes to all of my weird adventures so I always feel like I need to repay you back in-kind if the opportunity arises.”

Despite always trying to keep his composure in the face of any nerve-wrecking moment, Jay failed this time as he feel his smile widened while his heart raced uncontrollably. He couldn’t exactly pinpointed why: was it your sudden heart-fluttering words; was it the proximity; was it the the warmth that he could feel on both hands; was it the atmosphere; was it the fireworks that was starting to set off outside; or was it just you?

Suddenly, he thought in retrospect, he was glad that you had said “no” to him. He wouldn’t have traded the moment tonight, just you and him away from all the external noises, for a waltz in a crowded and noisy ballroom, even with all the glitz and glamour that it offers. In fact, tonight best represented what you meant to him, like that of an oasis in a desert, your presence alone is enough for him even if he has to search through the highs and lows for you -- it is just you who he’ll gravitate to eventually.

_______

Author’s note: first imagine wheee! Hope you guys like this one :3

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen jay #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jongseong #enhypen fluff #kpop imagines #enhypen drabbles

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yeahimaloser · 3 years

Text

I'm Home

Hello! I'm so sorry this took so long to make! the final few weeks of school has been busting my ass, but it's almost over!

Anyways, here is part two to Come Home!

Summary: After your fight, Dabi tries to find you in order to make things right, he wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: angst, tiny bit suggestive if you squint.

. . .

The first thing Dabi felt as he awoke was a splitting headache.

He grabbed his head as it throbbed in pain, shaking it painfully. He grouped around, his eyes still tightly closed from the pain, trying to feel you near him, but all he could feel were the cool bedsheets underneath his palm.

Maybe you were making breakfast? You always did know how to cheer him up after a nasty hangover.

Dabi groaned as something gnawed at the back of his mind, a memory fogged with alcohol and yelling and…

You.

He jolted up, soon after regretting it because his whole body felt like it was being crushed down. He had to give himself a moment to let his head august, but when it did, he was grabbing at his phone, looking at the time.

Eleven a.m.

Dabi felt a coldness run through his vines. There were no texts from you, no calls, no anything.

“Fuck,” his voice felt hoarse and gruff, but in all honesty, he couldn’t give two shits.

He had fucked up. He had fucked up the one thing he needed, the one, perfect thing he had.

It was one thing for him to come home drunk, he knew that maybe you would have forgiven him then. But he remembered all those things he said about you, all those horrible things he said came rushing back.

Obviously, he didn’t mean them, how could he? He loved you so much, and maybe he didn’t tell you that as often as he should have, but he really, truly did.

Except now he had fucked up, and he had fucked up big.

And he missed you, he missed seeing your face as he woke up, watching you tease him by saying; “aww look how finally decided to come out.”

To which a very hungover him would probably say; “Whatever,” and probably just start cuddling up to you.

But he didn’t get that, he didn’t deserve that.

He opened his messages to you, seeing as you didn’t even text him to let him know where you were, which he knew was ironic.

He stared down at the blank messages, hatting how the last text you sent him was from yesterday, around one in the morning.

Y/N: I love you

He growled before stumbling out of bed, he quickly realized that standing up was a bad idea.

As he put a hand to his head, trying to steady the pounding in his brain, he clicked on the button that had your phone ringing.

He waited.

And waited.

And then-

Nothing. You didn’t pick up.

Maybe it was too early?

He knew that wasn’t at all the case, you were ignoring him, and really, he couldn't blame you. He had been a dick to you last night, and all he wanted to do was apologize to you, tell you that he wanted you to stay with him.

Dabi was absolute shit at words, he had a hard time expressing himself in general. But, he knew he had to convince you to stay, somehow.

He groaned to himself, how the fuck was he supposed to find you?

. . .

You had driven far.

Far enough where you knew nothing looked familiar, far enough where you knew that nothing would make you compelled to come home. It was just you, and nothing more.

Finally, you found some shitty motel, asked for a room, and that was it.

Well, except for the fact that you cried for a few hours, only to crash out.

To be honest, you felt pathetic. Which was concerning because you had done nothing wrong. Anyone would have reacted the same, anyone would have walked away and been just as mad as you.

But you felt so miserable.

Maybe what Dabi did was absolutely horrendous, and any rational person would be upset, seeing as he didn’t even think to tell you he was ok (the one thing you asked him to tell you), and all the mean things he said? Your heart still hurt from that. But you loved him. You loved him, and it felt heavy to stay away from him, like each moment he wasn’t with you, you felt like a brick was added to your lungs, till your body felt so pressed down you couldn’t move.

For most of that night, all you could do was cry.

And then sleep.

And you slept late.

Yet, if you were honest you couldn’t care. Thinking about Dabi just made you feel sick, thinking about the fact that you left Dabi also made you feel sick, and then thinking about leaving made you feel sick like if you moved, you would break.

So you just stayed, not thinking, not moving, not even bothering to august your position when you got uncomfortable.

You just wanted to be sad, you just wanted to be left alone. To wallow in self-pity and sadness, to not think about the fact that you might have just lost your boyfriend, the one man you truly thought you deserved.

After a few, long, dragged-out moments, you heard a quiet knock at your door.

Your brows furrowed, who could that be?

You hadn’t ordered any food, there was no reason the staff would be knocking at your door, so who the hell could it be?

“Coming,” your voice was hoarse, probably from the crying.

You rolled off your spot on your bed, not bothering to check how you looked, you just wanted to be left alone.

You opened up your door, and shock washed over you.

To any other person, he would look like...well to be completely honest he would like an idiot.

He had a hoodie and shades on, and a mask to cover up his scars, as well as a red cap to not draw suspicion to his hair.

But you knew Dabi when you saw him.

Dabi took a long breath before he spoke, “Y/N...Y/N I’m sorry.”

You planted your feet firmly, keeping your voice as steady as you could, “Just come in before anyone notices you.”

Dabi nodded, stepping into the small space of the motel room, shuffling around you as he came in.

You shut the door, trying to compose yourself as Dabi took off his “disguise.”

“...Have you been crying?”

Those were not the first words you wanted to hear after your fight with Dabi, a part of you wanted him to beg for you to come back with him (which you knew wouldn’t happen, he was way too stubborn). And yet, a part of you didn’t want that, you wanted him to just leave, he was the one who caused this, after all, he was the one who should take some responsibility.

And yet, the other, deeper part of you, just wanted to run into his arms, and cry. You just wanted him to hold you, to kiss you, to silently rub your back like he always did to soothe you. You just wanted your Dabi back.

But instead, you huffed, “Of course you would say something like that,” you turned your back to him, not wanting him to see the disappointment on your face.

But Dabi grabbed your wrist, “Hey, I was just worried because...well because I thought you would have been more mad than depressed. You did nothing wrong.”

Well, now you were starting to get mad. You whipped back around to him, snatching your wrist out of his hold, “Not everyone needs to do something shitty to feel upset, Dabi. You hurt me, I’m not just gonna walk away from something like that feeling all angry. I was upset because you don’t care.”

Dabi’s face shifted into one of startlement, “I don’t care? Doll, what are you talking about? I drove all the way here because I care. I won’t bullshit you, I was an ass. I should have called you and I should have come home earlier than I did. And those things I said, those were fucked up, and I don’t mean them. I-I don’t have an excuse. But I’m here now, I’m here because I’m sorry Y/N and I wanna fix this.”

You sighed, “Dabi, you really hurt me-”

“I know, and I just wanna...apologize. Y/N, that was wrong of me, I was an ass, and you don’t deserve that. I miss you Y/N, and I know you deserve something better than...this.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What can you not even say how we’re in a relationship.”

“No- that’s not what I-,” Dabi shook his head, “Y/N, I love you, and I know I don’t say that all that often because you know it’s hard. But I really can’t lose you. You’re just about all I have left,” he chuckled a bit.

A long, stretched-out moment passed between you two before you sighed and moved towards Dabi.

“I love you too.”

And there it was, that devilish smirk on his face, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught that, would you mind repeating it please?”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Ok, ok sorry.”

You both paused, waiting for something to break the eerie silence that filled up in the space between you two.

And finally, it all came out.

“...Did you mean all that stuff you said.”

“No, I meant none of it.”

You sighed, “Even the part where... where you said I was better off without you? Even the part where you said I should leave you?”

Dabi visibly bristled, “Doll-”

He was silent, and you could feel the temperature in the room heat up.

“You can do better than me, I’ve always thought that that part of our relationship would have been obvious. But, if you’re asking if I want that? Then no. I want you to come home, I want to fix this because I love you, I want you to stay with me.”

You took a long, deep, pause before answering, “I do too, Dabi. It’s just, your words hurt, and I don’t know if I can magically forgive you yet.”

Dabi felt his chest tightening, “...So then, what do we do?”

You fiddled with your hands, “I’m not really sure.”

“I don’t wanna break up-”

“Neither do I,” you interjected, “I don’t wanna leave you, Dabi. that’s the last thing I want to do. I just don’t know how I can get over this.”

“Do you want some space?”

You paused.

Did you want space? A part of you knew that maybe it was the responsible thing to do, a part of you thought that maybe, maybe it would do you both good to separate for a bit.

But the other part of you, the one screaming inside, was telling you no, you didn’t want space.

You missed Dabi’s arms around you, missed the way his hands felt so protective around your body. You missed the way his lips would fall on yours, ever so dominant in his way. No, you didn’t want space, you just wanted him.

“No,” you said, “no I don’t want space.”

“So then,” Dabi started, “What do you want.”

You leaned into him, as he did the same. Your eyes meet as you both seem to have a mutual need for one another.

“I want you.”

Your lips collided with his, your breath was taken away as his hands grabbed at the small of your back. The way his body formed against yours, as you hugged yourself tightly to him.

You couldn’t help but sigh as Dabi deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding past yours as he grabbed you by your hips.

You gasped suddenly as he pushed you up on the wall of the motel, your eyes going wide, only to be met with a loud growl from Dabi.

If you were being completely honest, you loved when he got like this, so in the moment, so passionate. The way he was so dominating made your legs shake, made your stomach boil with anticipation.

You wanted more.

You gripped onto Dabi’s hair, earning a surprising moan from him, his hands flinch on your hips.

But he got you back.

His body closed up around yours, tight against you, like you had nowhere to go.

Unfortunately, you had to breathe. Which would have ended the forgiving kiss.

Well, except, Dabi decided to go exploring on your neck.

His lips were rough against your skin, but they always had such care to them as Dabi pressed them to you. Such a loving air, and yet, such a claiming one as well. A kind of way to say, “You are mine, and I will show you.”

“D-Dabi,” you hated how you stuttered. But the way Dabi looked back up at you made it worth it.

He brought his lips away from your neck, only to place them again on yours.

After a moment, he pulled back.

“So,” Dabi said breathless, “...I’m forgiven?”

“...you ruined the moment.”

. . .

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