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thelastofhyde · 6 months

Text

you cut your hair, and take some space. (1)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 3 ! (part 2)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation (please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it made you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkept facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped upon your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes.

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating.

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing.

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?”

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months

Text

Death and Gifts

Death has existed since time untold, but now with mortal friends, he has found himself in a bit of a pickle. Having been introduced to the concept of repayment, he now feels the need to return the kindness his friends have offered.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for everyone involved, Death pays his debts in full.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Death, or rather Orion Pax, was familiar with the concept of an exchange. Shanix was traded for resources or goods, life was traded for death, and knowledge was traded for service. He knew this, but he eventually came to a rather startling realization upon going through a series of datapads on mentality.

According to what he read, relationships were also a form of exchange. In a relationship of any sort, both parties were to give and take in equal exchange. Service was to be repaid in some way, shape, or form. Emotional care was to be provided in turn, and friends were meant to create bonds through a series of debts to one another in the form of attention, time, and service. To Orion, it was a wakeup call and prompted a severe misunderstanding.

Throughout his entire stay in the mortal plane, he had been receiving the time, attention, and service of his companions. He had been unintentionally indebting himself to them, and at this point, he was swimming in things that needed to be repaid. Ratchet gave knowledge and care freely, and that needed to be repaid as soon as possible. As did Megatron's dutiful companionship. There was much to do, and so Death prepared to repay that which was owed... in his own unique way.

Ratchet was his first and oldest companion. As such, Orion began devising ways to repay him first. Ratchet made his life easier and gave him understanding, Orion could do the same in turn. Thus, over the course of a few weeks, Death began to dig into Ratchet's history, connections, and prospects. The medical student had a few... blotches in his social life that Orion frowned upon seeing. An overenthusiastic ex, a corrupt higher up refusing Ratchet the title of doctor, and a bully who harassed his friend on the daily. Death does not usually pick favorites, but when it came to his friend and his debts, he was willing to compromise.

He spent what time he could with Ratchet, trying to return the emotional support through actions. And when he wasn't otherwise engaged, he put pieces in motion. He couldn't directly do anything, not without making his siblings upset. But setting up scenarios that would lead to death were not exactly off limits. So long as he wasn't there or forcing the death to happen, he wasn't responsible. So what if that one unfortunate ex got into a bad crash? He could have avoided it if he'd tried harder and paid attention. Why should it bother Death that a corrupt doctor overdosed on recreational drugs? The mech was living on borrowed time anyway. The bully ended up being arrested? Well isn't that unfortunate.

Ratchet did not grieve much, and Death was there with him all the way. He still had debts to repay, and Ratchet was worth so much more than being a mere Doctor. Perhaps it was a bit of bias, but Orion couldn't help but pull a few strings. Sometimes the corrupt needed to fall ill to make way for those who were far more suited to the roll. If Ratchet gave Orion a few side glances after he was suddenly promoted to the role of CMO, neither of them acknowledged it.

Ratchet: That mech... did you kill him?

Orion: I am forbidden to directly intervene in the affairs of your kind.

Ratchet: Did you cause this to happen?

Orion: You have been kind to me, you have given me much. It is a debt I will repay.

Ratchet: Orion, please, you don't need to-

Orion: You are of my chosen. Your purpose far exceeds those of the lesser.

Ratchet: You aren't like this. You don't usually have an opinion on anything, at least not like this.

Orion: It was, and it is still not permitted. But I will not allow that which was offered to go unrepaid.

His debt was nowhere near paid, but Orion had little else he could do. HIs friend was soaring high, and so in a bit of desperation, he focused on the rules to see what else he could possibly effect. Direct intervention was out of the question, but perhaps he could give a gift.

It wasn't against the rules to simply remove a block within a mech.

Death smiled when Ratchet found himself with an uncanny ability to sense death before it arrived. The doctor was able to solve cases before they reached a breaking point and determine a cause of death effortlessly, seemingly without any explanation. Ratchet chalked it up to his own skill, and Death grinned as he turned to his next set of debts.

Jazz was next, but for Death, he was hard to fully place. Jazz was an odd one, and repaying debts with him would be difficult. Jazz's situation did not allow for mecha to perish unfortunately. He was in too delicate of a position for that to happen and not harm him. But Orion could give him information. That much he could do. Jazz was an agent, a spy for the Council. Death dug through every case Jazz was involved in with fanatic determination, and once he had everything prepared, he began his work.

Cold cases were suddenly given new evidence as Death searched for the dead within the Allspark and questioned them. Information Jazz could not reach was put before him on a silver platter as mecha with the details found themselves incapacitated by unfortunate accidents. Those who hunted his friend were quickly silenced, not through supernatural means, but through blackmail Orion had from the Archives. To top if all off, Death gifted his friend an ability. When Death came to fallen, they trusted him instinctually. They knew what he was. To Jazz he gave a lesser version of the same gift, merely accentuating Jazz's already powerful charisma with a touch of the calm of the void.

Jazz noticed, but he said nothing. Death merely smiled.

Megatronus was not difficult to repay. Death merely began rigging things in his favor. Well, not necessarily rigging. But the odds tipping ever so slightly in his Champion's favor were not against the rules. Who was ever going to concern themselves with a blade sliding off Megatronus's armor and shattering instead of piercing. Bad craftsmanship had its effects after all. Who would be anything except awed when old wounds healed perfectly and Megatronus returned to the arena without issue? The Champion made all sorts of money for his sponsors. His success was theirs.

Orion's siblings watched him in wrath, further tightening his reigns. But Death would not halt. He could not gift abilities as obvious as he had to Jazz and Ratchet, but it was not out of the question to give Megatronus a more intimidating aura. All it took was for Death to touch him once every few cycles, and Megatronus would carry the stench of death wherever he walked. His foes feared him, and Orion laughed lightly as he watched their terror firsthand. It was not a gift, merely his presence having its effect. His siblings could not punish him for that.

Prima: You cannot keep doing this Thirteen. You are stepping beyond your bounds.

Death: I am following the rite.

Vector: You are not. Your influence has expanded beyond the limits set in place for all Primes. Continue down this path, and we shall be forced to step in.

Death: What must I do to gain the ability to expand?

Micronus: There is no-

Onyx: Expand. Grow.

Prima: Onyx enough!

Onyx: He has the right to know. We have known since the children of Primus walked the world. To keep him in the dark is cruel.

Death: What do you know?

Onyx: The rite forbids that I speak plainly, but continue as you are, and soon enough your reach will expand. The children of Primus are eager to believe.

Death considered the words of his peers, and ultimately he elected to follow Onyx's advice. He was Death, he was allowed to act as he saw fit, at least to a degree. He would obey the rites and rules, but if the children were in danger... well, rules were made to be broken on occasion.

Soundwave was the last on his list, largely because he was Megatronus's favorite. Death looked upon him and decided against any action, instead opting to give a simple gift to repay his debts. Soundwave stalked the halls, and Death dragged him into the shadows. It was for a brief moment, but when he released the spymaster and met his gaze back in the normal plane, Soundwave shakily got to his pedes, and Death smiled again. He enjoyed smiling. Such a silly thing, but one that held so much meaning.

"This gift I have given to repay my debts. The void now knows you, it has tasted your frame. Do not linger long within its grasp, but it welcomes you, should you wish to traverse the dark paths."

He left quietly, and Soundwave for his part shook like a leaf. The work was done, and now Death had largely repaid his debts.

However if a few particularly devoted mailmecha found themselves avoiding trouble and injury with surprising grace, then who were they to judge? Death would repay his debts, regardless of the outcome.

Megatronus, Ratchet, and Jazz were all very much aware that Orion had done something to them, but by the time they came to understand their new gifts, they opted not to ask. Whatever Orion was, he was old, and he was powerful. No longer was he a spark eater in disguise or some old monster. Rather, he had to be a Quintesson or a creation of them. There was no other explanation, not unless one wanted to begin believing in fairy tales about Primes and their power.

Death, oblivious to it all, continued merrily while quite content to have finally "made things right."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #orion pax #megatronus #ratchet #jazz #soundwave #death's embrace au #alternate universe #pre war cybertron #slight cosmic horror I guess #idk what to label death being death

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marunalu · 9 months

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One of my absolute favorite vader/luke "moments" happens in one standalone comic. At this point vader already knows that luke is his son, but luke still doesnt. Because in the new canon comics vader finds out about lukes existence shortly (between 1 or 2 weeks) after the destruction of the death star.

So in this comic vader and luke happen to be on the same planet and same place at the same time out of poor concidence of course (the force). Luke is there with r2 because of rebels alliance business, while vader is there for empire business and because he is on the search for 2 antik twin sith lightsabers who once belonged to a powerful sith lord. Vader and luke come in the possession of one of the lightsabers each and luke gets under the control of the one he has which makes him use the dark side and kill some stormtroppers, but he is able to shake it off shortly after. Long story short, the place is flooted with stromtroppers and luke is forced to get the hell away from this planet as fast as possible. He and r2 get seperated on the way. Meanwhile vader is still searching for the other lightsaber.

At the same time all of this happens, there is a podrace about to start any moment. Luke borrows (steals) one of the podracers to get away from the stromtroppers and is all like "flying that thing cant be that more different than a landspeeder, right?!" So luke does his first ever podracing competition despite that it isnt even his entention to take part in it, he just wants to get away.

Meanwhile vader stops in front of a big screen showing the race and because of the big podracing nerd he still is, he stops and watches in interest, while everyone around him freaks out when they see him and run away. At one point the commentator of the race mentions that it seems that a human pilot is on the lead and goshs about how great of a pilot he is. Vader watches on in fascination and is deeply impressed by the human pilots skills not knowing that it is his own son.

At the same time while everyone is impressed by lukes piloting skills he sits in the podracer freaking all out like "ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit! Not.like.an.landspeeder.at.all! NOT.LIKE.AN. LANDSPEEDER.AT.ALL!!!" In other words while eveyone is impressed by him even vader, luke has absolutely no idea what he is even doing nor does he realize that he is about to win the race and just trys his best not to end as a splash on the next rock wall.

Then while vader still watches in awe the race commentator makes a remark about how never before a human managed to survive that long in a podrace and had even good chances to win it. Because of that vader gets all pissy that nobody knows or remembers that HE was the first human ever who won a podrace (at the age of 9). And because of the petty and jealous idiot he is, he uses the force to sabotage the race and makes one of the engines of lukes podracer explode. Because if nobody remembers HIS archivments in the sport then no other human should ever get the praise instead.

So vader almost accidently killed his own son (its the third time by now) who was about to win a podrace just like his dad before him, because vader is a petty walking human disaster. Of course luke survives the crash uninjured and is all like "I will NEVER do that again!", because the force loves his grandkid and likes to make fun of his bratty son instead. Then r2 arrives with lukes x-wing and they take off to leave the planet.

The last page is vader looking after the vanishing x-wing, realizing in that very moment that his son was not only at the same place as him the whole time, but it was also him piloting the podracer. So, not only did he fail to capture luke when he was directly under his nose, he also almost accidently killed him out of pettiness over a sport. The comic ends with vader destroying the sith lightsaber (luke lost his one earlier) out of rage for missing the best oppunity ever to catch his kid. Destroying the very object he came for to this planet in the first place.

#star wars #star wars comic #darth vader #luke skywalker #the force loves luke #and likes to bully vader #I just love these two idiots so much #like father like son

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sunshinejeonglixie · 9 months

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Coming Out - Bang Chan

tags: sfw, nonbinary reader, afab reader, coming out, anxiety, bang chan x reader, lots of comfort & softness from Chan, all around just sweet and wholesome even with the anxiety

a/n: I was gonna write all 8 parts of this into one post and just have it be a "coming out to skz as nonbinary" post but then I got halfway through this and decided it would be far too long to put them all in one so we're starting with Chan and going from there. I'll finish all 8 at some point (not tonight but probably within the next couple weeks all the parts will be done)

!!Everything written here is fiction, not meant to be taken as real life, if anything here makes you uncomfortable please just block & move on!!

You and Chan were a great couple, you’d been together for a little over 3 years now & everything was perfect. But then you started questioning your gender and in your mind everything came crashing down. After about 4 months of thinking and questioning, you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you’re nonbinary.

You had no idea what Chan would think or what to tell him. You knew that he accepts lgbtq+ people of course, you both had multiple friends that were part of the community, but that doesn’t mean he’d still be interested in dating you. Your brain was just too full of all the what ifs. Everything that could change if you told him how you felt.

Finally, you decided to just rip the band-aid off and tell him. He needed to know. This was something important about you and you were honestly getting even more nervous the longer you waited so you needed to get it over with.

You picked a day when he wasn’t going to be super busy, and you had the day off so you could go over to the studio during his lunch break. You picked up your favorite food on the way, hoping it could bring you some comfort and calm your nerves. The walk up the stairs of the JYP building was extremely nerve-wracking, you almost turned back about 4 times before you finally got to the right floor. Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the studio door to find 3racha hanging out in there, an unexpected sight since Chan said he was working alone today.

“Ah! y/n!” Han smiles & waves

“Hey y/n!” Changbin leans around Han to wave as well.

“My baby!” Chan giggles, excited to see you.

“oooh, food for us?” Han reaches out to the bag in your hand.

“uhh no sorry guys, I only bought for Channie & I. I didn’t know you’d be here too.”

Han pouts but accepts it and moves back to where he was.

“We were actually getting ready to head out for lunch anyways” Changbin says, packing up his backpack and telling Han to grab his stuff too.

“We’ll work on it more later, yeah?” Chan asks as they walk out the door, both of them nod and head on their way.

As soon as the other boys are gone you’re reminded why you came here and the nerves set in again, trying to force your whole body not to start shaking.

“what’s wrong?” Chan asks, immediately sensing your anxiety.

Your mind races, no words come out and you can’t even think of a real sentence to start this conversation. Before you know it tears are falling from your eyes and Chan is pulling you into his lap in his chair, holding you close.

“Hey, take a deep breath, what’s going on? Talk to me please” Chan speaks softly.

You take a deep breath before finally just letting it all spill out.

“I feel like I’m not a girl and I know you probably hate me and want to break up so I should probably just go.” You ramble while trying to climb out of his lap, expecting him to push you out any second.

“Woah what?” Chan says before taking a second to process all that information you just threw at him.

Finally, he finds the right words to respond, pulling you back into his lap fully while you continue to cry.

“How long have you been holding all that in?” is the first question he asks, face and voice filled with concern.

“Like… 4 months probably” you hang your head, feeling slightly guilty you kept it from him all this time.

Hearing that, Chan’s heart breaks. The idea that you’ve been struggling all alone and feeling like you can’t come to him all that time makes him hurt.

“I understand if you want to break up Channie…” you say, not knowing what to do with his silence.

“What?! No! Why would I want to break up?” He genuinely sounds confused.

“Because you like girls… and I’m not that.”

“Baby no I love you for you. If you feel like you’re not comfortable as a girl then it’s my job to take care of you the best I can and help you.”

You melt at his words, just curling into him closer. So thankful that he’s not upset with you and doesn’t want to leave you. After a bit of silence and just trying to settle your anxiety, Chan speaks up.

“Do you want to use different pronouns?”

“I would prefer to use they/them pronouns.”

“What do I call you now? Like not my girlfriend anymore but what do you want instead?”

“I haven’t thought about it much, I think just partner is fine.”

“Are you wanting to change your name?”

“No, I’m ok with it now.”

Chan pauses, thinking of more questions that could be important.

“Should I just say baby now instead of baby girl?”

“Yeah I’d like that” you get a little shy, just loving that he loves you so much and cares about how to make you comfortable.

He pauses again, obviously thinking about something.

“What is it Channie?”

“Earlier this week, I called you a good girl when we were uhm yaknow…” he trails off, ears red with embarrassment.

“Channie just say it please” giggling and rolling your eyes about how he has no shame when you guys actually have sex but afterwards he can’t even say what you did without looking like he’s going to burst into flames from embarrassment.

“You know what I mean. But when I said that you kinda like, zoned out or something. Took a second to get you back in the moment I mean. Is this why?”

“Yeah…” You feel bad because you really do love the praise, just not the gendered portion of it.

He sighs, disappointed in himself more than anything. He never wants to make you feel uncomfortable so knowing he did, and he didn’t even think much about it makes him mad at himself.

Noticing his sadness, you try to comfort him a bit.

“Channie there’s no way you could’ve known it would make me uncomfortable you say that all the time, how are you supposed to suddenly know?”

“I should’ve noticed babe; I’ve been your boyfriend for 3 years I should be able to tell when something’s changed.”

He pulls you even closer, if that’s even possible at this point with how tight he’s holding you, and just takes a deep breath before talking again.

“Shit I probably sound like this is all about me and how I feel, I’m sorry my baby it’s not about me” he apologizes.

“No no it’s ok Channie I understand what you meant; I know this is an adjustment for you too.”

The two of you continue to sit together in a comfortable silence for a while before you hear footsteps and the door opening with Han and Changbin returning to work again.

“Ewww get a room” Han jokes, seeing you in Chan’s arms.

“Uh believe it or not this isn’t your studio.” Chan reminds.

“Technically they had a room already.” Changbin points out.

“Ay woah Changbin hyung you’re supposed to be on my side.” Han whines

“Now why would I do that?”

“Alright alright quit whining I’ll let you guys work” you say, starting to get up before Chan pulls you back down quickly.

“Don’t leave yet baby” he pouts.

“Chan you guys have work to do.” You scold while laughing.

“I can work while you’re here.” He argues.

“Bullshit you cannot.” Changbin points out.

“Yeah hyung last time you tried to work with her here it took like a week longer to get the song done.” Han agrees.

Chan notices you cringe just a bit at Han referring to you as “her”, running his hands through your hair to comfort you a bit before leaning down and whispering to you.

“Do you want to tell them? Should I?”

“You please… I can’t do it all again myself today.”

Chan clears his throat before speaking up over Han and Changbin who had moved on to some other random topic.

“Actually, Hannie it’s them, not her.”

“Huh?” Han had completely forgotten anything he’d said more than 30 seconds before

“You said her, referring to y/n. They actually use they/them pronouns now.” He tells them.

“Oh, sorry y/n!” Han smiles

“Cool, good to know.” Changbin says before they move back to their conversation.

You smile, hiding your whole face in Chan’s chest, just so overjoyed that your boyfriend loves you exactly as you are, and his friends are cool with it too. You know he’ll take care of you and protect you no matter what against anyone and it makes you feel so safe and warm inside.

#fanfic #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #sfw #coming out #nonbinary reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung

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superman86to99 · 1 year

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Adventures of Superman #511 (April 1994)

Superman returns to Metropolis after the events of "Bizarro's World" and finds that... there's no Metropolis. It's completely gone. Did someone pull a Coast City on it? Is Brainiac back to his Pre-Crisis city-stealing ways? Superman flies down to take a closer look at the nothignness, only for the buildings to suddenly re-appear right in front of him, making him clumsily crash into one. And right in front of some hot ‘90s babes, too. How embarrassing.

Turns out Metropolis wasn't gone: Superman's powers are so out of control (as seen in recent months) that he didn't realize his X-Ray vision was making him see through the entire city. Superman tries to rescue the people falling off that building with the old "air cushion" trick, but he ends up creating a mini-tornado and injures more people. When Maggie Sawyer and the Special Crimes Unit show up to find out who's been going around destroying buildings and injuring pedestrians, Superman volunteers to be arrested for everyone’s safety, but Maggie is like "eh, let's just pretend this didn't happen... this time."

She does encourage Superman to go get his condition checked out by a specialist ASAP (which, come to think of it, he should have done weeks ago). Superman goes to Professor Hamilton, who determines that his internal solar battery has gone out of whack and is making him absorb too much energy after being exposed to some sort of kryptonite-like substance. And when was the last time Superman encountered kryptonite? At the end of "Reign of the Supermen," when a big blast of it passed through the Eradicator first and instantly gave Superman his powers back. "A bit of foreshadowing," as the Professor says.

According to Hamilton, Superman's powers will keep increasing until his body can't contain them anymore and, I guess, explode. The Professor does suggest a possible solution: taking Superman's excess energy and giving it to those sick Underworld clones who have been dying off all over Metropolis (as part of that OTHER long-ass storyline we've been seeing recently). Superman likes the idea but decides that a massive government agency would be better equipped to make it happen than some ex-con in a run down building (sorry, Hambone), so he flies over to Project Cadmus to tell them about it.

Like two minutes after Superman arrives at Cadmus, the place is attacked by some Underworlders who believe Cadmus created the illness that's killing them. Superman and the Guardian team up to stop the clones, but it isn't a terribly long fight, since the Underworlders are dropping off like flies. Very big flies.

Meanwhile, we find out that LexCorp is currently being attacked by OTHER clones and Lex Luthor Jr. is trapped inside. Lex sends a televised message blaming Cadmus for the attack and promising to "deal" with them "once and for all." In other words: WAR. TO BE CONTINUED!

Plotline-Watch:

Of course, those clones attacking LexCorp weren't sent by Cadmus, they were sent by the mad scientist living UNDER Cadmus, Dabney Donovan. Earlier in the issue, Dabney snooped into a heated Zoom call between Lex Jr. and Cadmus' Director Westfield where the latter refused to join forces to cure the Clone Plague, because he thinks Lex would just steal their tech. Lex indignantly accuses Westfield of putting lives at stake (meaning HIS life specifically, since he secretly lives in a clone body). Dabney worries that Lex might attack Cadmus and thus endanger his own operation, so he... attacks Lex and makes it look like it was Cadmus? They don't call him "mad" for nothing.

Westfield's comment about Kryptonian DNA is obviously a reference to Cadmus' troubles attempting to clone Superman after his death, which resulted in them giving up and creating Superboy. Incidentally, Superman asks Guardian how Superboy is doing, given the whole “clones dying” thing (the Newsboy Legion kids are in pretty bad shape), and Guardian just says he's "been through a lot lately." In other words: buy his solo series if you want to know if he's dying too, kids!

Back to Lex, he instructs Dr. Happersen (still wearing bandages over his head after Bizarro burned him) to contact the Underworlders, presumably with nefarious purposes. In the same scene, we learn that Lex has a virus in LexCorp computers that alerts him to any mention of his name. And guess who happens to be using a LexCorp computer to write an article about how Lex murdered his personal trainer?

We've been following Lois Lane's investigation into the Sasha Green murder for a while, but I'm a little confused about the "father" part above. Does that mean Lois knows Lex Jr. is Lex Sr.? When did she find out? Did she put two and two together after learning clones are getting sick and seeing Lex all frail last issue?

Don Sparrow points out: "As far as I know, this issue's billboard is the first appearance of Whitty Banter, the David Letterman of the DCU. It's a confusing look, though, as he seems to be a blonde, musclebound Billy Batson lookalike, with John Lennon glasses, so apart from having a talk show, he doesn’t greatly resemble any real world hosts. (A quick look into it indicates Banter’s first in-person appearance is a few years later, in Superman #117. He also appears in Man of Steel #67, where the Letterman connection is made more explicit, though Banter’s face doesn’t appear in either issue.)” As we pointed out on Twitter, there was also a reference to Whitty in the letters page for Adventures #511, in answer to a letter praising his real life counterpart, colorist Glenn Whitmore.

Patreon-Watch:

This post was sneak peek’d at patreon.com/superman86to99 earlier this month! Shout out to patrons Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, and Bol; we are the Dabney Donovans leeching off of your Cadmus. We’ve been slacking on the exclusive Patreon material lately (other than the sneak peeks) but we hope to have more to show you in the next year, including more Elseworlds reviews and out-of-continuity stuff.

But right now: more Don Sparrow, under the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We start with the cover, and it’s a very good one, with a grim Superman and Guardian ready for battle. Perhaps a little generic, and lacking in background, but it’s just a great drawing of the protectors of Metropolis, even if it doesn’t give much of a hint to the actual story. Inside the book we are greeted almost immediately by the real reason people check in on this blog each and every week: wall to wall ass. Superman crashes through a skyscraper Zack Snyder style while a diverse group of sunbathers look on. This is fairly racy for a code book from 1994, so it’s worth a mention.

I love Barry Kitson’s art (even if the Jim Lee-style hatching is a bit overpowering at this time) so it’s a challenge to narrow down outstanding panels, because it’s all pretty great. But the drawing of Maggie Sawyer in full tactical gear is a highlight, as her boots, body suit, and armour all appear to have a different surface texture. Great stuff. There is lots of laboratory scenes in this issue, from Professor Hamilton’s studio apartment to Project Cadmus, and all the technical equipment and wires look appropriately high-tech.

As the only action scene (Superman and Guardian battle a dying and apparently nameless Underworlder) unfolds, the image of Guardian shielding himself from an energy blast is well drawn and well coloured.

That scene is as close to we get to excitement in this story, which was definitely one of the less eventful issues I can remember. It moves the ongoing “B” stories (Superman is overpowered, Lois is investigating Sasha Green, the clones are all dying) without having much of an “A” story. Still there’s always forward motion in this era, setting up for the next big thing.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

The idea that Lex is monitoring Lois Lane, and is in turn being monitored by Dabney Donovan is a trippy one, especially if we add in the layer that we, as readers are monitoring them all. One small detail I’d like to highlight here is that Dabney Donovan refers to himself while he monologues, which is quite helpful to new readers, who might be thinking, “who is this guy, and why isn’t he fighting a blue hedgehog?”

Speaking of DCU analogues, apparently one of their daytime dramas is called Secret Hospital which sounds a lot more exclusive than our General Hospital.

I do love that for all his many sins, Lex II is about to be brought down by journalism, rather than superheroic fisticuffs.

The attacking Underworlder (if he got named, I missed it) seems like a riff on the Incredible Hulk, referring to the Cadmus agents he’s fighting as “puny soldiers”.

Slightly amusing to me that the Underworlder attacker refers to Newsboys and Superboy as “dogs on a leash”, when Cadmus once had their own strike team flat out called the Bloodhounds (who are currently chilling with Doctor Stratos in the “never seen again” lounge). [Max: Actually, someone let us know recently that Doctor Stratos DID appear again in a Roger Stern Superman novel in the 2000s, to my shock... What if the Bloodhounds also have a novel we never learned of? Or an entire YA book series? It’s possible.]

#superman #karl kesel #barry kitson #james pascoe #whitty banter #maggie sawyer #special crimes unit #paul westfield #project cadmus #dabney donovan #sydney happersen #sasha green #emil hamilton #guardian #newsboy legion #underworlders #clone plague #wall to wall ass #rip nameless underworlder

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sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

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find the word tag CCCXXIII

why. did I have a cup of oolong tea just because the pot was made? now I am more awake instead of my natural sleepy and I'll have to take a thing. at least my back seems to have calmed down a bit. it did a couple of spasmy things earlier that were not fun for me, but I should be okay since I still have another day off. @diphthongsfordays @josephinegerardywriter

ignore (dirt in the doing)

"Are you just another Jet, now? You go around picking fights because you’re mad at the world?”

Wait, hang on. What? That’s not- Jet doesn’t pick fights because he’s mad at something else. If he throws a punch at someone it’s because he wants to throw a punch at that person. Even in a random fight. He chooses his opponent, and then they’re his enemy. He’ll take them down. His anger at the world is another thing entirely.

Neon text seems to flash across his brain spelling “hypocrite!” but he chooses to ignore it.

wheel (micro story written by my friends and me)

Long ago in a space village there was a purple monkey. The monkey's name was Frederic Zebo II. He was the captain of the starship Zagoth. But his ship had no steering wheel. I can't describe what happened next. Just kidding, the ship crashed and everyone in it had a great bounce. They crawled out of the ship and saw a rubber duck army sergeant. This sergeant was the greatest duck in the force and an expert marksman. But the duck had lost his arms/wings in battle and was confined to a wheelchair. I wish social workers took care of him from henceforth on, but the government budget was slashed and he lived in solitude. The End.

straight (the sleepy stash, 2022)

I like people that are unburied, because I can talk in regular tones and get straight to the point: hi, nice to meet you, don’t mind me founding your family. But the buried ones are not to be neglected, and I can love them as much as they let me and when they poke their heads above the soil I’ll smile bright as the sun.

And for things that are not people, I don’t mind either way, unless someone is shoveling back the dirt that I just took out and it’s a struggle to reach the treasure I’m seeking for not because it’s very hidden, but because someone is working against me.

But! Not all things should be unburied, and some of them are not meant to be mine. And that’s alright.

shout nah I don't like my options and I'm not opening something else

brave no no I don't like these either why is nobody brave

cover (the wushanju diaries - I love this found family so much)

The first week into his stay at Wushanju, Pangzi gifts him a journal.

“Xiaoge and I picked it out together,” Pangzi says proudly, holding it out toward Liu Sang with a grin. “He said the color suits you.”

Liu Sang takes the journal, inspecting the sage-dyed leather of the cover and the yellowed pages. They’re lined on one side and blank on the other. “He said that?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Xiaoge can talk when he wants to. I said we should get you a welcome home present, and then Xiaoge looked at me and I said, ‘yes, of course, I meant what I said, it’s a welcome home present because this was always your home and you just didn’t know it yet,’ and Xiaoge went and found this by himself. I wanted to get you the blue one, since it looked bright and happy, but Xiaoge said, ‘green for Liu Sang,’ and who am I to deny Xiaoge’s excellent judgment! So you better like it.”

glow (the sleepy stash, 2022)

do you only glow when I cover you up because you've kept it a secret for me? can't be. I know you glow when I'm not looking. but I like it. I like to be just one reason. I want you to glow for anything you feel. and if you feel me-

thank you.

sympathy (soaked-through, see-through, 2021)

Quench the rabid questions burning brands into my skin And write the dissatisfaction on my gravestone for my next of kin If it rains any harder I'll think the sky is full of sympathy The clouds won't part tonight, so again, the moon won't speak to me I'll dance while you can't see me and I'll roam the gloam forever Curse this miserable weather

cook(strawberry & sugar, 2021)

Taehyun has a backpack that is so full it looks like it might just sink him down into the floor by wearing it. Beomgyu instantly offers him a glass of lemonade and Yeonjun refrains from scolding him because he remembers heavy backpacks.

Beomgyu talks a lot as a rule but after meeting Taehyun, Yeonjun thinks that he just never shuts up. even on the days when Beomgyu doesn’t work, he comes around, and now he brings Taehyun with him.

“Soobin, you should hire Taehyun. he’s good with numbers and he doesn’t give people free food. also he can cook.” Beomgyu is so serious that he isn’t even shouting.

smirk, smart, smell, smoke. BONUS: sincere, sour. @vellichor-virgo @druidx @nikkywrites @penspiration-writing @souliloquyyy @aalinaaaaaa @writingbyricochet @oh-no-another-idea OR ANYBODY

#find the word tag #searching circle #alliteration agency

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staravya · 1 year

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Relative Happiness

When they leave, they take her with them.

—

“Adora,” she says, “this is very important.”

Adora giggles. “Yeah?”

—

“So, good news: she wiped out a pretty big chunk of the Rebel forces. Which is great, because it means your plan’s working,” Scorpia says.

“Yay!” Adora cheers, throwing her arms into the air with so much force she nearly tips over the chair she’s in.

Catra eyes her with mild satisfaction. “Let me guess, the bad side is that we also lost a good chunk of our forces trying to retrieve her.”

“Yup.”

“I did it!” Adora cheers again, and this time she really does tip her chair over, tumbling to the ground with a crash. “Ow.”

Catra props her elbows up on the table and grins as Scorpia leans over and make sure Adora didn’t crack her head open on the floor.

—

“Subject appears to be just as floppy as before,” Entrapta notes, eyeing a very limp Adora giggling to herself. “There was no noticeable resurgence in... level of floppiness, so it definitely didn’t abate over time, so it stands to conclude that so long as her sword’s infected, she’s infected! No need for renewal! Which really calls into question just how closely she and the sword are linked...”

Catra groans, already beyond bored. “We already knew all that—“

“We didn’t know, we hypothesized!“

“—but more importantly, I need you to make something to make it easier for us to stop her.”

“The brakes are broke,” Adora chimes in, delightedly sing-song.

“Well, we can’t put anything on her. Her clothes all change when she transforms. Maybe put something on the sword? But it can’t be too complex, or it’ll get infected and lash out too… no First Ones tech for sure.”

Scorpia prods Adora with a claw, watching the incapacitated princess clumsily poke her back. "Well," she says, "we just need to get the sword away from her, right? So, something like... a big magnet."

“A magnet... yes, that would work. It’d have to have quite a bit of power to pull the sword out of her hands, but it could work!”

—

They unleash her in villages, towns, areas susceptible to surprise attack and too far for Bright Moon to quickly transport forces to.

Entrapta said that Glitter and the other guy would know how to snap She-Ra out of it, and Catra isn’t about to let them take her away again. Yes, she wants She-Ra to kill them with her own hands, but she wants to do it right.

—

“I feel kinda funny,” Adora mumbles into her pillow. “Lil’... just a lil’ loopy. Lilloopy.”

You’ve been loopy for the two weeks, Catra doesn’t say. “Let me see your forehead,” she says instead, and reaches out a hand.

In this state, it’s a coin toss as to whether or not Adora successfully processes any instructions—never mind if she remembers or decides to follow them—but the infected princess seems to crave physical contact. It’s endearing and very easy to exploit, as proven by how quickly Adora scoots closer and leans her head on Catra’s shoulder with a happy sigh.

Rolling her eyes, Catra presses her palm to Adora’s head.

It’s hot, to her surprise. Much hotter than it should be. Catra tends to run hotter between the two of them, but right now...

“You’re sick,” Catra observes, mostly to herself. She tries not to think of angry red roots locked around She-Ra’s sword, of wires smoking under the strain, of Adora’s increasing lethargy.

“Silly,” Adora nearly slurs into her shoulder. Catra feels her press a smile there, like a benediction, before she closes her eyes. “Course I’m sick. S’what vi... v... being sick does. You're floofy.”

—

“She-ra is, essentially, programming. Seems like it’s only compatible with Adora, but I can’t figure out why that is. What makes her so special?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with everything! The sword’s a piece of First Ones tech, a runestone linked directly to her. It could be that parts of her bodily functions are connected to it—like her immune system, in this case.”

“Then... her body is trying to fight off the virus. That’s why she has a fever. But you said the sword was infected, not her.”

“She’s not! That’s why she’s not all rage murdery when she doesn’t have the sword. But she’s still connected to it somehow. Maybe the comparability allowed a few aspects of the virus to affect her, but not all of it. Just enough to make her body think it’s sick. In a short span of time, this would be meaningless, but she’s been infected for nearly a month now, and her body is exhausted from constantly fighting something it can’t beat. It... might actually kill her, at this rate.”

Catra feels her ears pin back before she can stop them, betraying her discomfort.

—

Adora looks up at Catra. Her blue eyes are streaked with thin threads of angry red—not all-consuming crimson like She-Ra, but something a little too close to it. They’re hazed over and directed only vaguely in Catra’s direction, like she’s having trouble focusing on her.

“Come on,” Catra says, again.

Adora laughs, but it’s a strained, hollow sound. “I’m going away,” she says. She does not move.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

A smile. “Going away,” she says, again.

Patience has never been one of Catra’s strong suits. She sighs, reaches over to pull back the thick blanket Adora’s bundled herself in, and—

Adora puts a hand on Catra’s wrist, stilling her. For the first time, she sees the subtly-glowing network of veins stretching from Adora’s fingers to her elbow. Most of them glow a faint red, but her fingertips have turned an ashy gray.

It’s like the red roots in the sword that lock around She-Ra’s arms have wormed their way under Adora’s skin. Unease prickles at the back of Catra’s neck, knowing that this… can’t be good.

After a moment, Adora lets her hand drop, like she’s too tired to keep holding on.

Something unhappy claws at the back of Catra’s throat. This isn’t what she wants.

Catra says, “Fine, lazy bones, you can sleep in,” and leaves.

She doesn't look back, but feels Adora's gaze prickle against her neck anyway.

—

“Can you turn it off?”

“Not without destroying it, and it’ll take me months to get it working again.”

—

Catra watches the little princess grab the archer and Adora, the sword tucked under one arm and the data crystal tucked under the other, and vanish.

She hopes against hope that they aren’t too late.

—

The first thing Glimmer does when they get to Bright Moon is throw the data crystal onto the ground and stomp, furiously, a sob caught in her throat.

“Glimmer,” Bow begins, but he’s got his arms full of a feverish Adora, and he doesn’t really want to stop her, anyway. He watches as the crystal splinters under her feet, a thousand glittering pieces of red fading to innocuous green as its self-sustaining power dies down. Glimmer’s heels chase after every shard, slamming into them over and over and over until there’s little more than dust remaining.

Adora whimpers, pulling them away from the destruction.

“Here, I’ll hold her,” Glimmer says, reaching for Adora. “Mom’s waiting. You get this… thing cleaned up and incinerated, I don’t want to see it ever again.”

“Okay,” Bow says. He carefully shifts Adora into Glimmer’s waiting arms, increasingly worried by the lack of response from their friend.

—

“The worst of it passed with the crystal. She should be recovering just fine on her own.”

“Can we see her?”

“Of course. I think having people near might help, actually. Her illness isn’t infectious, so give her a hug for me, won’t you?”

—

There’s an attack the next day—not on Bright Moon, but on one of the villages in the woods.

Glimmer and Bow unwillingly pull themselves away from Adora’s bedside to help, urged by the knowledge that they’re needed (and by the reassurance that Adora was well on the mend). They arrive quickly enough to minimize damage and save most of the residents, thankfully, though everyone’s eager to get it over with.

From the corner of her eye, Glimmer spots a familiar feline form. Heterochromatic eyes meet hers for a split second, and then Catra ducks into the shadows and by the time Glimmer teleports there, she’s gone.

“I hope you’re fucking proud of yourself!” Glimmer shouts, recklessly drawing attention her way, but she doesn’t care. Every part of her bellows in righteous fury and she can’t stop thinking of Adora’s weakly whispered, Catra, did you leave? I’m sorry, I miss you, I miss you, I love you. “I hate you!”

The whine of a charging cannon gives Glimmer enough time to teleport out of the way of the blast.

#starli writes

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

Text

Take Care of Everything

This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary

Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k maybe?

Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club

Minors, do not interact.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.

The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.

The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.

It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.

“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.

“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.

Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.

“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.

“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.

“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.

“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.

You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.

“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.

No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.

—————————

The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.

The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.

“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“

“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.

“And my -“

“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.

“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.

“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.

“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.

“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.

“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.

You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.

“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.

“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.

“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.

“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.

“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.

“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.

“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.

You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.

“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.

“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.

You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.

He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.

“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.

“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.

“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.

“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.

“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.

His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.

“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.

The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.

“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.

“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.

“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.

“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.

“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.

“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.

“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.

“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.

“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.

“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.

“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.

“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.

“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.

You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.

“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.

“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.

“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.

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the-lone-witch-and-secret-room · 3 years

Text

Camila Noceda and Flawed Parenting

A perspective by a flawed person with loving but extremely flawed parents

I’m genuinely baffled at some people’s hostile reaction towards Camila. Like… do any of you have flawless parents that always know the best solution instantly, make no mistakes and never get emotional?

My parents are great. They’re super supportive and I love them very, very much. Overall I think I got very lucky in the parents department.

But god, they are far from flawless. I still live at home, and despite all the good, there’s moments when I can’t take my dad anymore. He’s the kind of dad that stayed up until two am to help me with homework when I was in school, and he does so, so many things to make sure I’m happy. I know that. But despite all of this, I have told my mom in emotional moments before that I’m not sure if I can keep living with him, because for all his good sides, he has a couple of fatal flaws that sometimes make him unbearable.

My mom listens to me and is very open to being educated on certain topics, but she has her flaws, too. She hates when I fight with my dad, and gets so torn up about it that I’ve once apologized to my dad out of fear of her getting into a car crash otherwise. She’s very vocal about certain flaws of mine, and sometimes uses the things she does for me as leverage against me when she gets very emotional.

And both of my parents pay a lot more attention to my brother because he needs it more, because he’s more of a “problem child” while I “seem so capable” even when I’m not.

And guess what? I’m not a perfect child. I make mistakes sometimes, some of them pretty severe. Just like Luz, I’m the kind of person that struggles to communicate certain issues of mine to her parents. I’m stubborn, and when I get emotional, I say very hurtful things sometimes. So do they.

And this has nothing to do with my parents being horrible or abusive. They’re neither of those things.

The takeaway from this should not be that my entire family is made up of terrible people, but that we’re all flawed in our own ways, despite loving each other and trying our best. There’s things about my parents I wish I could change, and there are things about me that my parents wish they could change. And to an extent, that’s perfectly normal.

In our strengths and flaws and frustration with each other, we’re all human.

Specific, spoiler-y Camila and Luz things under the cut since this got very long.

We have no indication that Camila has a pattern of emotionally manipulating Luz. Her “emotional manipulation” as I’ve seen some people put it, is people for some reason thinking that the second you become an adult, you’re suddenly perfect and can no longer make mistakes, lest you’ll be dubbed horrible and abusive.

The whole concept is absurd to me. There is no perfect way to parent. There simply isn’t. Of course, there’s some genuinely abusive patterns that are horrible and inexcusable. But out of the parenting styles that aren’t, which one works depends on a number of factors, one of which absolutely includes that every child is different and has different needs. Camila is an amazing parent for Vee, giving the kid everything she’s ever longed for. She’s not an ideal parent for Luz. And that’s because Luz and Vee have fundamentally different needs.

Likewise, Luz is a pretty great child for Eda, but not a perfect fit for Camila. Luz relates to Eda a lot more than she relates to her mom, and that’s why the two of them have an easier time understanding each other. Both of these mother-child relationships exist, and one is not more doomed to fail than the other, but I think you’ll agree that the better you understand someone and where they’re coming from, the easier it is to communicate, pick up on certain signs, etc.

As mom and daughter, Camila and Luz are both flawed and have issues seeing the other’s perspective because of how different they are. And we should simultaneously acknowledge both of their roles in the issue and give both of them the space to learn and grow past those issues.

Luz struggles to communicate her problems. She doesn’t want to burden people in the demon realm, and it’s a given that this started out as not wanting to burden her mom. So she keeps quiet about her issues. Camila tries hard but can’t read her daughter’s mind, so there’s only so much she can do to understand and help the way Luz needs her to. Hell, Eda, who Luz is a lot more open with than her mom, struggles to help her, because Luz doesn’t tell her what’s wrong. I don’t see anyone calling Eda a terrible mom for that.

Camila tries her best, but she struggles to understand her daughter because of this, and because of how fundamentally different they are. She loves Luz’s creativity, we actively see her supporting it in the new episode—she keeps the weird stuff Luz made because she thinks Luz will regret throwing it away, and even plays along in what she assumes to be some elaborate role play because “she’s glad Luz kept her creativity even though it’s not made things easy for her at school”. But at the beginning of the show, said creativity got out of hand and people got hurt. Luz could’ve gotten hurt. So of course Camila had to interfere. I love Luz dearly, but she thought it was okay to bring snakes to school and set off fireworks inside a school building. Creativity is great. Doing reckless stuff that causes people to get hurt is not.

In sending Luz to camp, Camila tried to have someone else fix her issue because she didn’t know how to help Luz. That was a mistake, and a bad one at that, but she’s realizing that. She looks disheartened when Vee tries to throw out Luz’s stuff, because she never meant to change her daughter or take that part of her away. She just thought Luz needed a reality check—which, for the record, is something the narrative actually agrees with.

Luz spends her time in the demon realm getting reality check after reality check, realizing that even her ideal fantasy world where she has everything she always wanted doesn’t mean she’s free of consequences. She goes overboard constantly, causing:

-Eda to be forced to fly into a trap because Luz is chasing a fantasy (Witches before Wizards)

-Eda to almost be branded by her sister because Luz doesn’t think through why Eda doesn’t use magic to publicly announce her presence constantly (Once Upon a Swap)

-Eda and the twins to get kidnapped by a Slitherbeast because Luz stole Amity’s wand (Adventures in the Elements)

-Her friends to get hurt when she goes overboard trying to help Willow (Wing it like Witches)

-Eda to be captured and almost petrified because Luz thought she could just steal from the Emperor with no consequences in an attempt to help (Agony of a Witch)

I’m like 90% sure these aren’t even all. None of those make her a terrible person, for the record, but as all humans are, she is flawed and makes bad choices. She learns from these experiences and matures, just like her mom had hoped she would at camp. She’s also made friends there, which was another thing Camila wanted for her daughter.

You’ll probably realize that a lot of Luz’s behaviors I mentioned follow one of two patterns: 1. Luz’s idealized fantasy world causing problems, when she walks around with rose tinted glasses and gets people in trouble in the process because she hasn’t thought about the consequences, and 2. Luz trying to help someone she loves, but instead making things worse in the progress. The issue with this one is often that she doesn’t communicate her ideas/listen to the people she’s trying to help—like when Willow and Gus said they’ve had enough of Grudgby, or how she never actually talks to Eda about the healing hat idea before doing something reckless.

…does the latter one sound familiar to you at all? No? Because it’s the exact same thing that Camila did.

Some of the things Luz does are reckless and actively endanger others and herself, and that’s something that I think we need to acknowledge before judging Camila. As Luz’s mom, it’s Camila’s job to interfere in those situations. That she made a mistake while trying to protect Luz doesn’t make her a terrible person, especially as, again, the narrative proves her right to an extent.

I’m not saying her making Luz promise to come back and stay isn’t something that hurt Luz—it absolutely is. But it was born out of desperation. She’s emotional and in shock. She’s so full of pain and regret. She just wants her fourteen year old daughter home safe, and there’s nothing abusive or even morally ambiguous about that.

From Luz’s perspective, what she says is absolutely heartbreaking, but from Camila’s, it’s perfectly reasonable. I doubt Camila has the full picture, but even if she does, she’s had a full fifteen seconds to process that her daughter has not only been lying to her for months, but chose to leave her, and is in the demon realm of all places. Of course she’d be emotional and upset about that! Who wouldn’t? Camila isn’t a robot. If she’d been calm about this I’d be way more concerned, honestly.

My parents don’t get mad that easily, but if I would lie to them for weeks on end, they’d be pissed off too, not even taking the running away from home part into account. That’s a normal thing. People don’t like being lied to. Camila is absolutely devastated in that moment because she’s scared that Luz left because she hates her, when Luz actively states that her leaving wasn’t about her mom—which is another thing we should really be acknowledging.

Abusive parents suck and abuse should obviously never be apologized or trivialized, but saying something hurtful in the heat of the moment isn’t the same thing as being an abusive parent. My parents have done this. I’ve done this. And yes, those things can be emotionally manipulative, but there’s a huge difference in whether that’s a habit or a person speaking out of hurt and desperation in a very specific context. I doubt there’s anyone on the entire planet that hasn’t had a bad moment where they’ve said something like this because they were hurting. People lash out when they hurt, and they beg for reassurance when they’re scared. That’s something we all do.

The whole mindset of “all parents have to be perfect and can never get upset or make any mistakes” is harmful as hell, and honestly also very unrealistic. No parent is perfect, and especially people like me who have a relationship with their parents that’s very good overall should know that.

Once you have a child, parenting is a non-stop learning process, every day for the rest of your life. Taking away that room to grow and expecting perfection isn’t helping anyone, especially not struggling single parents.

And I see Camila as someone who is very willing to learn, because at the end of the day, all she wants is for Luz to be happy. Let’s give her some time to wrap her head around this whole situation. Let’s see what she says once she sees for herself how happy Luz is in that world, may it be via the videos eventually coming through or Camila visiting and meeting Luz’s found family, her friends and her girlfriend.

Ultimately, I don’t think Camila will force Luz to stay at home, but we have to give her some time. She wants what’s best for Luz, and she’s gonna need some convincing that a dangerous magical world is what’s best. I feel like that’s very normal considering the circumstances.

Her and Luz need to work on their communication on both ends, they both have things to learn, but I’m certain they’ll manage to fix their relationship in the long run.

If the bunk bed is any indication, I think Vee is gonna stay in the human realm permanently while Luz sleeps at home but keeps attending Hexside in the daytime. That feels like a solution that keeps everyone happy, and allows Luz to spend time with all the people she loves. I can’t see her being forced to choose at the end.

As a closing statement: Eda isn’t an ideal mom, Amity isn’t an ideal friend or girlfriend and neither is Luz, Lilith isn’t an ideal sister… but that’s because no one is ever an ideal anything. Being flawed is a big part of being human. Everyone has different facets to their personality. Their flaws are what makes them such great, relatable, believable characters.

And I feel the same way about Camila. She’s an extremely believable character that reminds me of my own parents, flawed but very loving nonetheless.

(Also honestly, I think it’s pretty telling that some of you guys immediately bash the black single mom that’s obviously trying her hardest while giving the benefit of the doubt to Alador, who has been portrayed as neglecting and threatened his six year old daughter on screen. This was already a thing before we knew much about either of them, and I’m disappointed but unfortunately not very surprised that it still is.)

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cqsuanla · 3 years

Text

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean.

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum.

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag.

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close.

“Drink?” in a monotone.

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away.

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered.

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact.

“Hi,” you murmur.

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.”

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so.

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you.

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her.

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that.

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch.

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.”

You frown. “You’re still hurt.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.”

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily.

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her.

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder.

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded.

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally.

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her.

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.”

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean.

“At least answer me.”

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink.

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated.

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle.

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs.

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants.

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.”

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead.

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf.

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that.

“All done,” you murmur.

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand.

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment.

Nat tuts. “Crying already?”

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.”

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?”

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means.

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.”

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply.

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin.

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope.

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin.

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?”

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise.

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this?

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs.

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way.

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes.

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat.

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek.

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect.

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan.

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.”

Again, you nod.

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline.

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup.

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls.

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins.

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close.

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back.

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours.

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch.

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance.

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done.

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away.

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest.

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #dark!natasha x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark #nat #mw #aaaaaaaaaaanyway

481 notes · View notes

httpdabi · 3 years

Text

Jealousy

Word count: 6,5k

Genre: Smut, romance, no quirk lol

Warnings: 18+, a little bit of choking, a little bit of daddy kink, rough sex, dom!dabi , jealousy kinda, unprotected sex, alcohol

Credit to the owner of the pic!!

✨Friends to lovers fic✨

Throwing your phone across the room, deep breath coming out of your mouth. The fact that he was coming back today made the time pass so slow it was painful. You were glancing at your phone every now and then checking what time it is, knowing he should arrive around 17PM. Rolling down on your old bed, you took a good look of your room.

Pastel pink walls, white bed, small working table in the left corner of the room. Beside your bed were photos taped on the wall. All those photos woke a memory in you. Some of the photos were of you and your friends, but most of them were of you and Dabi.

Dabi.

Your childhood best friend. You will never forget the day you first met him. Shy little Touya not wanting to play with your dolls. I’M A MAN. He screamed back then, throwing the doll away, making you cry loudly. You will never forget how scared he got in the moment you started screaming around, trying to hush you down somehow. He did everything he could hoping his parents won’t hear.

Yours and Touya’s parents were literally best friends, visiting each other almost every day. Having to face him so often, you two almost had no choice then to become friends. At the beginning none of you were impressed by each others company. But how both of you grew up, you were becoming closer and closer. At some point, you two became inseparable.

When Touya started getting piercings, you were so jealous. You wanted to get that Certilage piercing just like him, but your parents were so strict even the thought of it made their hair get up. Of course Touya being Touya, he didn’t give a two shits about their decision. Picking you up one day after school and brining you to his friend that did his piercings too. That night both families were fighting. His parents lecturing him how he is such a bad influence to you, and your parents screaming on you how you’ll never get married with piercing like that. Saying it’s not ladylike.

,, If no one marries her, I will’’ Touya said, making your heart flutter, and everyone else in the room laughed loudly, finding it cute how he was protecting you.

Of course, growing up both of you went different directions in your life. Moving out of your parents place was best thing that happened to you. Having that freedom you never had before, you were appreciating even little things.

Dabi moved out in another city, saying he never wanted to live in his hometown anyway. Of course, there wasn’t a day that he didn’t contact you. But having him so far away made things much harder for you. The only positive thing about him moving to another city was the fact that your huge crush on him would melt down, at least you hoped so.

You were so in love with him. How could you not be ? Having him around so much, such a handsome and good guy, you simply had to develop feelings toward him.

Walking downstairs, you heard Enji laughing loudly at something your father said. You visiting your parents home again, while Todoroki’s were also there, all of you waiting for Dabi to return. It made your heart warm up again, missing moments when all of you were spending time together so often.

Making your way toward kitchen, you opened the fridge looking for something to eat. Not that you were hungry, you were simply bored and something had to kill that boredom.

Taking the milk pudding, you opened it and took one spoon. You tried to multitask somehow, with one hand you were eating the pudding, while with other hand just scrolling your instagram feed.

Suddenly, a head placed on your shoulder, trying to see what you were looking at. Your parents always did that. They had to know why you were always holding that damn phone in your hands.

,, Dad, this is private, I’m not a child anymore’’ you whined, pushing your fathers head away. You hated when he does that, privacy is privacy and it has to be respected.

,, I didn’t know you were into daddy kink’’ a familiar voice whispered, making you flinch in surprise. Turning around you immediately jumped on the person standing behind you. Dabi laughed, placing his hand around your waist hugging you strongly, before he pulled you up in the air.

,, You little piece of shit, I missed you so much’’ you said hugging him back, not paying any attention to your parents in the background.

The rest of the day was all about Touya. How he was, what did he do, does he have a girlfriend and so on. Of course he liked to be the center of the attention, talking about everything. Not that you were complaining, you were sinking in every word that came out of his mouth, admiring him as always.

At the end of the day, your parents made plans that this week all of you should meet and have a super cool bbq like in the old times. Which meant one big ass sleep over, with Todoroki’s. Those nights were always amazing, so much food, so much sweets and of course so much alcohol for grown ups. That was the reason why Rei and Enji slept over after all. All of them would simply get wasted.

Dabi decided he will sleep at your place, since he never saw your new apartment, all of them agreeing, knowing that there’s a lot he probably wanted to tell you.

First both of you went to his old home, placing his suitcase and taking just few stuff to bring over. He didn’t want to waste any time, since his parents were still at your place, and he really wanted to finally see your new apartment.

Placing his bag in his hallway, he immediately went inside your living room, looking around, commenting what doesn’t look good and how he would decorate it much better. He opened the fridge, feeling like home and took one ice cream out of the freezer. Making his way toward your couch.

,, So, where’s that piece of shit called Kai’’ he asked, biting the chocolate on the ice cream. You were confused a bit, since you broke up with Kai long time ago.

,, Didn’t I already tell you? It’s been six months since we broke up’’ you laughed out. How can it be possible that you left your dear Touya uninformed about your love life.

,, Oh, that breaks my heart.’’ He said sarcastically. ,, What happened?’’ he added licking the ice cream.

,, Well, he cheated on me’’ you lied, sitting down beside him. Well, technically he did cheat on you, but the reason behind it was because he found out about your feelings about Dabi. He found out that he was only being used to forget your one sided love. Not that you didn’t like Kai, you did find him attractive, but you couldn’t force yourself to do with him stuff every couple did. Which made him cheat on you, hoping he will make you step further. But at his surprise you did something every normal person would do, broke up with him.

You did feel disappointed that you two had to part your ways like that, but you also understood him and with that you couldn’t force yourself to hate him or be that much hurt.

,, He didn’t deserve you anyway. I have no idea what did you see in him. Dude looks like he fed a whole Village in Africa, no offense ‘’ he said, making you laugh.

,, Anyway, we are invited to Mina’s birthday this Saturday’’ you said placing both of your legs on the table.

,, Aren’t we having a bbq that day?’’ Dabi asked as he placed the stick of his ice cream on the table.

,, Yeah, but we can still go tho. They’ll be really happy to see you again, I told everyone that you are back’’ you said, as he placed his head on your lap. You smiled, knowing how much he loves when you play with his hair.

,, Sure, we can do both. I am glad I’ll see them all again’’ he said making your stomach twist out of jealousy. You knew how much Yua and Akari liked Dabi. Of course you were friends, but the fact that all these two had their eyes on him made your blood boil. Even Mina was into him, until she found a boyfriend recently. They didn’t know that you liked him, but you knew very well that they weren’t happy that you had him by your side all the time.

After telling you about the city and all his experience, you two decided to go to sleep since it was already 2AM. You went to the bathroom to change into your silk pajama, coming back only to find Dabi in your bed wearing only shorts.

,, I really wanna get some tattoos too’’ you said looking the tattoos over his chest and arms, wanting to touch every single one of them.

,, Do it’’ he simply said, placing his arms under his head. You just rolled your eyes on him, he knew very well that you weren’t that brave.

,,You can sleep here, I’ll crash on the couch’’ you said ready to stand up. He was a guest after all, and for him you would sleep on the floor if he asked you to.

,, Of course you’re not’’ he said grabbing your arm and pulling you in the bed beside him. Wrapping his one arm around you.

,, Don’t get all cold with me suddenly’’ he laughed while covering both of you with your covers. Of course, you two slept together in one bed before, it wasn’t something unusual. But knowing how you feel about him, you knew that with every move like this, your feelings will grow back even stronger then they were before.

,, Touya, we aren’t children anymore’’ you said, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

,, That’s exactly what I was thinking about. Might as well do stuff adults do’’ he said jokingly, making you push him even harder. Making sure you are smiling he just held you stronger repeating that he was joking.

Once you realized that he won’t really give up, you just gave in, preparing yourself for one sleepless night with him.

Dabi placed your leg over him, slowly caressing your tight while telling you about some nonsense like he did before until you would fall asleep. Once he thought that you fall asleep, you felt his long arms around you and his lips on your head.

Having him so close to you, he didn’t know what effect he had on you. For him it was just one normal night, while for you it was something you won’t be able to keep out of your mind next upcoming weeks.

The next days it was like before. Dabi was spending more time at your place as he did home. You two would spend time together, playing games, going grocery shopping together, visiting cafes and so on. You even saw Akari in one café, and of course she was all over Dabi. You couldn’t watch it, she was touching his arm so recklessly, and the fact that he wasn’t doing anything about it didn’t’ help either.

Excusing yourself, you said that you felt sick. Dabi wanted to follow you home, but Akari was insisting how he should stay, since they didn’t see each other for such a long time. Not wanting to make any scene, you just told him to stay, not to worry and left them.

On your way home, you felt terrible. It wasn’t anything big, but yet you overacted there and had to leave. But you simply couldn’t watch or hear anything more. You were the one that was supposed to touch him like that. You wanted to touch all those tattoos, and even tho you were his best friend you couldn’t find the courage to do it. Yet, stupid Akari did it without a problem.

Knowing that Dabi will probably just come back to your place, you made your way toward your parents house, not ready to face him somehow. In that moment you wished you didn’t gave him your spare keys. You didn’t want to wait for him and think about what they were doing.

Of course your parents were more then happy to welcome you home. Since you moved out you didn’t sleep at their place that often. But they knew something was wrong, not wanting to bother you, they just let you be.

Once again the night was sleepless for you. Dabi did contact you, asking if you are ok and if he should bring something to you, but once you saw that Akari posted him on her Instagram story, you couldn’t even force yourself to text him back.

You knew that It was so childish of you, he didn’t even know how you feel about him, yet that something small would upset you so much. But your feelings were getting better of you. The whole night you were rolling around in your bed, thinking if he’s home yet, if they are fucking somewhere. You were thinking what would have happened if you just stayed. If you did, he would probably just leave home with you.

Waking up next morning, you wanted to kill yourself. The soreness in your eyes didn’t help either. You saw few messages from Dabi, asking where you are, yada yada. Seeing that it was sent around 4am, you tossed your phone across the bed. Did he stay that long with her ?

You slowly stood up and made your way toward the bathroom, brushing your teeth before leaving home. Your parents were insisting that you should stay, and spend the rest of the day with them. It was Saturday anyway, so you’ll be here later anyway.

But you didn’t want, you had to clean your apartment a bit together with your thoughts. Also it was Minas birthday today, so you had to get ready before you leave for the bbq and her birthday.

Opening the door of your apartment, you saw Dabi’s shoes placed beside yours. Slowly tip toeing, you found him in your bedroom asleep. You slowly closed the door, and started cleaning quietly, making sure not to wake him up.

You wanted to lay down beside him, and simply cuddle yourself close to his body, but because of the thought of the last night, you also wanted to grab his hair and force him out of your apartment.

Of course, once he woke up, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore. You had to act it up, and just ignore what happened, after all how could you explain to him why were you even mad ? Dabi left your place around 16PM, leaving you all alone with your thoughts once again. You whished you could tell him how you felt, you wished he would understand.

When the time came, you wore your light purple spaghetti strap dress. Since the evenings were still kidna cold, you decided to wear your oversized black cardigan that was the same length as your dress. Covering just enough.

After doing your make up and straightening your hair, you placed your small bag over your shoulder and wore your overknee lace up boots before you left. The cardigan was bothering you a bit, since you knew how hot it usually gets when you’re in club, but once the wind brushed your naked tight, you didn’t mind it anymore.

Once you got at your parents place, you helped them with all the preparing. Your mom didn’t let you prepare the food, being scared you’ll ruin your dress. But you still helped with plates and all the alcohol. Placing everything on the table outside.

When they arrived Enji and your dad immediately started with the bbq. Rei and your mom were simply enjoying the evening and sipping on their wine, waiting for their food. While both of you and Dabi were simply on your phones. Once again you were upset, all of them complimented your looks, everyone but him. Piece of shit like he looked any better, whit his simple white shirt and jeans.

Lies.

He looked so beautiful without any effort, the tattoos on his arm totally visible.

You took the wine from the table filling your glass, drinking it fast down. Just the thought of Akari and other girls being all over him was driving you crazy. You had to prepare yourself.

,, Slow down doll, I don’t want to spend the rest of my night holding your hair in the toilet’’ Dabi said taking the now empty glass away from you and laughing a bit.

,,Don’t worry about me, I’m capable of taking care of myself on my own’’ you said taking the glass back and filling it with wine again. Who does he think he is ?

When the meat was done, both of you ate and drank a bit before leaving. Dabi didn’t want to drive since he also had plans to drink. Enji was insisting on giving you a ride, but you two didn’t want to break his fun, after all the club wasn’t that far away.

,,So, who will be there tonight?’’ Dabi asked you, taking the box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one cigarette.

,, Mina of course, Yua, Himari, Ryohei, Hiro, Akari and Kai’’ you said, placing your hands in the pockets of your cardigan.

,, We should make your little Kai jealous, what do you think?’’ He said, placing his arm around your shoulders.

,, Nah, no need’’ you said looking down on the floor.

When you arrived the club was already full of people. Thankfully Mina waited for you two in front of the club, not wanting for you two to waste your time looking for them. You gave her the present that you and Dabi bought few days ago and graduated her. Knowing that Mina is in relationship with Hiro, so the hug she gave Dabi didn’t bother you so much.

Once you got inside, you greeted everyone and ordered your drinks. Of course Akari was giving all of her attention to Dabi, trying to get as close as possible to him.

None of you wanted to wait, so all of you ordered your drinks. You ordered Malibu with cherry juice, you were up for something sweet. Since the sweet drinks kick in much faster and that’s exactly what you needed. Dabi ordered whisky, while Kai, Hiro and Ryohei ordered pure Vodka. Rest of the girls ordered Wine.

,, Hey’’ you heard very familiar voice close to your ear. You turned around sipping on your drink, welcoming Kai with a small smile and nodding your head.

,, How are youu?’’ he asked loud enough for you to hear. Body too close to your own in your opinion.

,, I am good and you?’’ you simply answered finishing your drink, asking yourself why is he starting this random boring chat. Realizing that your friends were eyeing you and your ex down, you smirked to yourself. If they only knew, how little shit you gave about him.

,, Let’s go get another round of drinks’’ you said, and made your way toward the bar, while Kai was following every step you made.

,, You look beautiful tonight’’ Kai pointed after you ordered what everyone was drinking. Well, at least someone appreciates your effort tonight, you thought to yourself.

,, Thank you, you look cool yourself’’ you said already trying your drink, while giving the money with your right hand to the bartender. He didn’t look bad at all, wearing black button up shirt, one part of it tucked in his jeans. His typical black convers shoes. He looked good.

Once you two got back, placing all the drinks on the table, you could feel Dabi’s eyes on you. You weren’t sure if he wanted to tell you something, so you took his Whisky and went to him.

,, What is it ?’’ you asked giving him his drink.

,, Nothing at all’’ he replied eying you down. He was about to say something more, but Akari interrupted him, saying some nonsense. Not wanting to watch them together, you just left them, making your way toward Ryohei, Himari and Kai on the dancefloor.

All of you were dancing. Jumping around and waving your body to the sound of the music. You realized that Kai was trying real hard to get you to himself, but sadly your drinks didn’t hit you that much yet. Still the only person that was on your mind was Dabi. You wanted to look at him, and see what’s he doing, but you were afraid once you turn around you’ll find Akari all over him again, or even worse making out with him. It would definitely ruin your night.

After few more drinks, you finally started getting tipsy. While Mother Mother was playing, you and Himari were jumping around, making your way back toward the table to get your other drink that was already there, you two were screaming at each other ,, My daddy’s got a gun, My daddy’s got a gun, My daddy’s got a gun, you better run’’ moving your body crazily just as the music was.

,, Cheers’’ Himari screamed, once both of you placed a bit salt on your hand. Licking the salt of your hand, both of you drank the tequila fast before sucking the lemon. Making the weird face, both of you laughed preparing another shot.

Making your way back to the others, both of you were going crazy to the beat of the song you loved. With a new drink in your hand, you didn’t think about the consequences. After all the music was just so good, you simply had to drink.

Dancing around, you felt a body pressed against your. Tilting your head to the side, you realized it’s Kai standing behind you, trying to get as much of you as he could. At that moment you didn’t give a fuck anymore, just giving in and dancing with him. You saw Himari and Mina laughing at you, thinking you two will get together.

,, I’ll go smoke one fast, wanna come?’’ Kai asked. You simply shook your head giving him a sign that you'll simply wait and found yourself once again dancing with Himari. You were glad Himari was there, since without her you wouldn’t have much fun as you had now.

,, You are fast’’ you said, feeling Kai’s body behind you again. Slow down by Chase Atlantic started playing, no better song for grinding your body against someone else. Moving your body slowly, you felt his hands holding your hips firmly.

,, Are you sure you aren‘t into daddy kink doll?“raspy and deep voice made you twitch in shock. ,, What’s wrong? Didn’t expect me ?’’ he added, holding your hips stronger, not giving you any chance to move away from him.

You felt like there was no need to answer him, since Mina bought you another drink you were already busy sipping on your drink . After all, all you wanted to do was drink and get wasted in that moment anyway. So you moved your body from the side to the side, enjoying how close his body was to yours.

Realizing that you drank your drink, Dabi took it form your hand and gave it to the bartender that was passing by anyway. Turning you around to face him, he took your arms and placed them around his neck, while his own arms found their way to your waist.

,, Wasn’t the plan to make Kai jealous?’’ he asked. You could feel his hot breath on your ear. Tilting your head a bit to the left, you closed your eyes and gave him a small nod with the biggest grin ever.

The grin was long gone once you felt his hands over your ass, squeezing it tightly. ,, Then why am I at the end the jealous one ?’’ He asked giving you one more squeeze. Drunk like that you forgot about your friends and what might they think.

,, Is this how you treat your daddy?’’ he added, not giving you a chance to even progress the last question he gave you. You were never into daddy kink, but coming from his lips, you were ready to call him daddy as much as he wanted.

,, I want.. drink.. haha’’ you said laughing, hoping he will get you another one, since you weren’t capable to do it on your own anymore.

,, We are going home’’ he said. He was already tipsy on his own, but nowhere drunk as you were. He told everyone that you two are leaving, not giving you much time to greet them. Seeing disappointed look on Akari’s face made your night. IN YOUR FACE YOU BITCH ASS HOE

Dabi helped you wear your cardigan, and placed your bag over your shoulders, before he placed his hand around your waist helping you walk a bit. Well, you could walk, but with his grip around you, it was much easier.

,, I thought you could take care of yourself’’ he said once you two were outside. He placed you on the nearest bench, just to light up his cigarette before he pulled you up once again. You placed your arm around his shoulders, bragging about how you can walk perfectly fine.

,, Stop pissing me off doll, you’re hard to hold’’ he said as his grip was getting stronger.

,,Or what ?’’ You laughed, taking the cigarette from him and placing it between your lips. You don’t smoke usually, but alcohol took over you. Dabi laughed surprised, not used at the sight of you smoking.

,, My little Touya, you weren’t even born when I started smoking’’ you managed to say, while he was just laughing at the nonsense you were telling him.

Dabi didn’t know what he should do first, hold you firmly or pull your dress down, scared it was to high up for everyone else to see what’s under it.

,,Now, behave yourself, we are almost home’’ he said pulling your dress down a little, and throwing the almost done cigarette from your lips on the floor.

At his and your surprise both of your parents were still outside enjoying their time. You threw your arm up in the air ready to greet them, but Dabi stopped you fast enough. It’s not like your parents have anything against you drinking. But he wasn’t in a mood to talk with them about anything tonight. And he knew very well that drunk like that you were more then ready for a chat with them.

,, Already home?’’ Enji screamed once he saw you two. You were ready to brag about how you wanted to party a bit longer, but Dabi once again stopped you, telling them how you didn’t feel good that much.

,,What’s your problem man ?’’ You hissed at the party breaker that was pulling you upstairs to your room. Looking how your parents prepared your room made you grin. There was a mattress beside your bed prepared for Dabi.

,, They really think you’ll sleep down there’’ you grinned.

,, Obviously’’ Dabi said, placing you slowly on your bed.

,, Now, change into your pajama while I’m brushing my teeth’’ he said slowly, making sure you understand every word.

With alcohol in your system, you just lain down to rest a bit, before getting all the power and will you had to change.

Pulling your dress over your head, you started looking for your pajamas. Seeing Dabi’s shirt on the floor, you felt satisfied and just wore it. Standing there in the room, you thought if it’s his shirt he wore today, or just the one he got himself for bed. You would rather sleep naked than in a shirt he just wore in the club. Even the thought of the smell of all the smoke and alcohol made you feel dizzy.

Taking the part of his shirt, you pulled it close enough for you to sniff it making sure it’s not his shirt from clubbing.

,,What are you doing doll? ‘’ You froze. Looking to the side, you saw him leaning on the doorframe while smirk was formed on his lips. Luckily there was enough alcohol in your system to feel embarrassed in that very moment, since the view of you sniffing his shirt was weird as fuck.

,, Can’t get enough of me ?’’ he added getting closer to you. ,, You have to wear some shorts, or I’ll really be forced sleep on the mattress tonight’’ he added looking you up and down, while you just stood there speechless.

,, Come here, let’s take off your make up’’ he said, placing his hand on your back, leading the way to the bathroom.

Once you were in the bathroom, Dabi pulled you up, making you sit on the washing machine. Slowly helping you wash your teeth. Swinging your legs playfully, Dabi almost poured the water he prepared for you on the floor. Placing the glass to the side, he took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. Even tho you weren’t sober, you could completely understand the position you were in. Taking the wet wipes he started cleaning your make up carefully. You just closed your eyes enjoying his touch on your face, while he was giving his best to do it gentle as possible.

Sudden feel of a skin brushing over your nose made you open your eyes. Seeing his face not even inches from yours, made you froze. His nose brushing against your own, before you felt his soft lips against your own.

,, You are driving me crazy’’ he said, placing his forehead against yours. Not thinking twice you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss. At first you knew that he was surprised since he just stood there, but after a short second you felt him smile into the kiss, leaning in and wanting more.

With his hands under your, or better to say his own shirt, he was moving them up and down slowly. The touch of his hands rubbing your naked skin softly made you want more of him. Pulling him closer with your legs, you placed your hands on his chest , wanting to feel everything you could.

Pulling your head back breaking the kiss, you attacked his neck, leaving wet kisses all over it. Touya pulled your body up, placing his hands on your ass, making his way toward your room. Making small breaks while pushing your body against the wall trying to kissing you like his life depended on it.

Once he placed you on the bad, he didn’t waste any time, hovering over you and kissing your neck. Wanting everyone to know to who you belong to. He wanted to make sure the next time you see Kai, he will know that Dabi is the one that’s dicking you down.

,, I know you couldn’t stand the sight of me and Akari, but grinding on Kai like a little whore, making me all jealous was really unnecessary’’ he gasped between kisses. Pulling the shirt over your head he threw it over the room, leaving you only in your panties. ,, especially in that little dress of yours” he added, as he looked over your half naked body.

,, Fuck you, what did you expect of me, I was mad’’ you moaned out once you felt his lips on your breast, sucking and biting it.

,, Well.. guess what’’ he said, still sucking your boob, while squeezing the other one.

,,What?’’ you breathed out, eyes closed while enjoying his lips on your body.

,, Daddy will punish his little naughty girl’’ he said, once again leaving wet love marks all over your chest.

,,Touya, I’m really not into daddy kink’’ you said, your hands deep inside his hair.

,, But I am’’ he said, his head in front of your, making eye contact with you. ,, And tonight I want everyone to know who your real daddy is. I want everyone to know who you belong to’’ he said, wrapping his hand around your throat. ,, Do you understand me ?’’ he added.

,,Yes’’ you whispered, not breakig the eye contact.

,,Yes what?’’ he asked as his hand started to apply pressure to your throat. Not being used to choking, you couldn’t really manage to give him the right answer. It wasn’t the kind of choking where you felt like passing out because of the lack of oxygen, but you were still new to it.

,,Yes daddy’’ you managed to say somehow. Satisfied with your answer, Dabi moved his hand away from your throat, leaving small kisses over the same spot where his hand left small marks.

,, Such a good girl’’ he said, pulling your panties down. Licking his lips, as you were exposed to him. The fact that you were so valuable to him, and knowing how much power he had over you was turning Touya even more on.

Not wasting any time, he spread your thighs further apart, his head leaning down to run his tongue through your folds. Feeling his tongue piercing on your clit, something you always wanted to feel, made you throw you head back into the pillow, while grabbing Dabi’s head pulling him closer to yourself.

Licking you around your opening, the warm and hot feeling of his tongue, mixed with cold feeling of his piercing was making you shiver. You could feel him smirk against your core as he saw how much effect he has on you. You moan as his lips and tongue move against your folds, eating you out like it’s his last meal.

,,Touya please’’ you moan out, as he sucks roughly on your bundle of nerves, causing your body to jolt up, as your fingers grab his messy hair.

Flicking his tongue roughly and tugging your clit, his hands were holding your thighs firmly, as his light blue eyes were focused on you. It doesn’t take him long to make you cum all over his mouth, his name falling from your lips shamelessly. Climbing over you, he kissed you passionately, making you taste yourself on his lips.

Pulling away from the kiss, you started kissing his tattoos, something you wanted to do long time ago. Especially since he came back. Dabi breathed heavily, his head hanging low, while you were under him kissing every little line that covered his body.

He gave you the time you needed, exploring his body as much as you wanted. But once he felt your small hands pulling down his shorts together with his boxers, and licking the tip of his already erected dick, he had to stop you. At your surprise, even his dick was pierced.

,, Another time doll’’ he said, pulling you up. ,, I’ve been dying to fuck you since forever’’ he added, slowly rubbing the tip of his dick around your core. Without any warning his slammed his whole length inside making your scream both in pleasure and pain. Wiggling a little, trying to move just a bit away from him, hoping the pain will go away. But Touya couldn’t let that happened, now when he finally had his dick deep inside you.

,,Just relax baby’’ he said not moving, letting you adjust to his size. Placing soft kisses all over your jaw, then slowly moving out of you, only for him to slide back in, so slow that you could feel every vain of his dick move, together with his piercing rubbing your walls.

Dabi was moving so slow, grinding his hips against yours, as his fingers were rubbing your clit gently. Sliding out of you only until the edge of his head remains, before moving slowly again in, repeating the same move all over again. Only God knew how much he wanted to break you.

,, Touya’’ you moan out once he wraps his fingers with yours, placing your left arm above your head, while his right fingers were still rubbing your clit in circles. Your legs shake as you wrap them around him, another orgasm hitting you hard.

Dabi moans with you, as you squeeze his dick while riding of your orgasm. With you having your second orgasm, he couldn’t hold himself any longer. Your warm walls around him coated in juices were driving him crazy. All the soft and slow moves were forgotten, making his motions now much deeper and intense. Pulling out till the end and slamming recklessly into you again. Groaning in pleasure, he was slamming into you with a speed you could only imagine.

,, Touya, slow down’’ you moaned, closing your eyes, still sensitive from your second orgasm. ,, I don’t think I can take it’’ you added, trying to catch your breath.

,,Of course you can take it. Look at you, you’re taking it right now doll’’ he groaned, holding your hips in one place while fucking you hard like no one ever has before. You were a moaning mess, with every move your moans were louder.

,, Oh God, Touya’’ you moaned, fingers still connected to his. Grabbing his back with your left hand and digging your fingers inside his skin.

,, You’re takng it so well love’’ he said, groaning as he felt the pressure of your nails digging into his back. ,, Go ahead, scratch my back as much as you want’’ he added kissing you sloppily.

Once he started rubbing your clit again, you found yourself digging your nails into his back like a wild cat, finding comfort in it. ,, Touya’’ you moaned his name out as both of you were coming closer to your highs. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, his moves becoming more deeper and jankier. His eyes were shut, while your body started shaking once again. Once again you felt your orgasm pulsing through your stomach, and there you were again squeezing his dick not being able to control yourself as you moaned his name over and over again. Dabi continued fucking you , his groans getting louder and louder, feeling your walls getting tighter and tighter while you were milking his dick down, he released. Emptying his seeds deep into you.

Both of you stayed in the same position, trying to breath normally. His thumb gently rubbing your hand, as he placed kisses all over your bruised neck.

,, You have no idea how much I wanted to be with you’’ he said between the kisses. ,,I’m so in love with you doll’’ he breathed out, making you feel butterfly’s inside your stomach.

,, Are you?’’ you asked, tilting your head just enough to look at him.

,, Don’t act like you didn’t know already’’ he said smiling, while brushing his nose against your cheek. Of course you didn’t know.

,,Fuck you, I was dying here for you, thinking my love is just one sided’’ you said hitting his chest lightly. ,, I even dated Kai hoping I’ll forget you somehow’’ you added hitting him once again, making him laugh a bit.

,, Don’t mention his name. That’s the past. You belong to me now, only me’’ he said, grabbing your jaw and kissing you. You were always his anyway.

,, All yours, Touya’’ you said, kissing him back-

,, Are you kids awake ? ´´ Enji’s head peeked inside your room, finding his eldest son naked on top of his best friends daughter. Making him choke on the air and forgetting the actual reason he was looking for you two.

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

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Crash Course: The History of Dream SMP Season One

So...

You want to get into the Dream SMP, but oh no! There’s eight months of extensive and event-filled history to catch up on, and dozens of highlight videos to watch that don’t always include everything, and pages upon pages of detailed Wiki articles...where do you start!?

Well, I’ve created this to summarize the events of Dream SMP Season One into a single post as a sort of “narrative timeline.”

I’ve also included the dates of the events to the best of my ability, so that everything is in (mostly) chronological order.

I’d highly recommend also checking out the Wiki for more detailed descriptions of the big events if you’re interested.

Happy one-month anniversary of the Grand Finale!

Enjoy!

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Note: Some dates, but not all, are taken from VOD upload dates, and Tommy’s VODs are usually uploaded a day later than initial broadcast, so they may be slightly inaccurate. Dates marked with * are the dates the VOD was uploaded, in cases where I am unsure of the original broadcast date.

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The Early Days

April 25th:

The SMP started out as an ordinary survival server, and was often referred to as “the survival world” on early Dream Team streams. The first eight members to join the SMP were: Dream, George, Sapnap, Badboyhalo, Ponk, Alyssa, Callahan and Sam, though Sam took a hiatus until the events of the Election Arc. The Community House was the first thing to be built in the center of a lake.

It was in this period that Beckerson and Mars were named from donos (the various named knicknacks in the Community House are also from donos), Dream tamed a white horse named Spirit, and Sam tamed Fran. There were also several other various pets like dogs and foxes that were tamed by the members.

Some notable events from this period include: the construction of the Court House (and subsequently Sapnap and George’s murder trials there), Dream building the wooden path, George texting Dream’s mother, Sapnap’s Famous Storytime Stream (in which Spirit died due to mobs), and the burning of Ponk’s first Lemon Tree due to a conflict with George.

There was also a running joke that Callahan and Alyssa were dating (they aren’t)

Tommy’s Arrival

Tommy joins July 4th. Tubbo arrives shortly after, with Fundy a day after Tubbo.

The day of Tommy’s arrival:

Tommy joins the SMP. His first day, George and Dream get him to stand on a crafting table and he subsequently murders George and takes from the Community House chests. Dream and George put Tommy on trial in the Court House. After a brief manhunt, Tommy is banished 2,500 blocks away (the first of three exiles) in the snow and is ordered to stay there. He fails to comply and is briefly banned before Dream lets him back on. He chooses to settle on a hill next to Ponk’s Lemon Tree.

The Disc War: Start of the Disc Saga

Taking place from July 9th* - July 11th*, though there were various events/conflicts relating to the discs that happened before and after this time.

After listening to two discs, Cat and Mellohi, with Tubbo on a bench while watching the sunset (VOD: July 8th*), Tommy considers the two discs to be his most prized possessions.

This event is considered the first major war of the server, and the Disc Saga would continue to have developments throughout the rest of Season One.

The events of the first Disc War began due to another conflict between Sapnap, Ponk and Alyssa. Punz and Tubbo were also involved. Tommy ended up siding with Sapnap, and much vandalism and fighting happened before Dream logged on with the intention to stop it.

Tommy and Sapnap murder Dream, and Dream steals Tommy’s discs in return, threatening to burn them unless Tommy returns his gear. Tommy, Tubbo and Sapnap end up combining forces to murder Dream and take back the discs, which Tommy hides under his base. Dream spends time off stream digging up the entirety of Tommy’s land in search of them.

The rest of the Disc War proceeds with Tommy and Tubbo working repeatedly to take back the discs from Dream. It only ends when Tommy crafts an Ender Chest to put the discs in.

This was also around the time that Fundy’s Socializing Club was built, which later led to a brief conflict taking place there.

(It was also during this time in the middle of the Disc War that Wilbur joined a call with Tommy and asked Dream out on a date to Pizza Hut, with Tommy speaking in game chat as Wilbur’s wingman. Dream says yes, George gets jealous on Twitter, and the infamous Vlog plot starts. It would go on from July to October.)

Schlatt and Wilbur

July 12th: During a short conflict between Tommy and Tubbo over the death of Tubbo’s pet bee, Tommy burns down Tubbo’s house. Wilbur logs onto the server to act as Tommy’s lawyer.

On July 17th, Schlatt gets whitelisted on the server without Dream’s knowledge and Tommy spends a day with his idol. The SMPLive Cuck Shed is recreated in Dream SMP, and Tommy listens to the disc Blocks with Schlatt. People trend #kickschlatt on Twitter. Both Wilbur and Schlatt log off the server “permanently,” Wilbur by choice and Schlatt by banning (as Dream didn’t know who he was). Tommy gains ownership of Wilbur’s ball house.

Also worth mentioning is Eret joining July 19th.

The L’manburg War for Independence (aka “Revolution”)

This was a relatively short but very consequential arc, taking place from July 24th to August 2nd, a little over a week in total. It is the second major war of the server, and the first to be faction-based.

July 24th: Wilbur joins the server again.

He decides to start an empire with Tommy. He builds the Camarvan (aka “hto dog van”) in a remote part of the woods and recruits Tommy to help create artificial scarcity in the server’s drug market by stealing everyone’s blaze rods. This isn’t taken too kindly by other members, especially Sapnap. One thing leads to another and they decide to mark out a tiny square in the woods to declare as an independent country. Tubbo joins them, and he and Tommy sing “Hallelujah” to a tilled patch of dirt (this melody would later become the L’manburg National Anthem). They also recruit Eret to help build. They decide on a name: L’manburg, and also don revolutionary skins.

Dream comes over, displeased by this, and declares war. His side consists of Dream, George, Sapnap and Punz, though the L’manburgians attempted to convince George to their side due to his Britishness.

Eret builds the walls, Fundy joins the revolution after logging in within the walls and being very confused, Wilbur claims Fundy as his son. Tommy constructs a fight club beneath his house and, after poorly speaking Dutch to Fundy, goes down the path placing signs in various languages saying “the green bastard shall die!” as propaganda to Dream’s viewers of various nationalities.

July 31st:

Dream and Sapnap log on during one of Dream’s streams, inspect the area, and go through a multi-step plan to demoralize the L’manburgians: they burn down all the trees around their land, lavacast a huge cobblestone wall just outside, construct obsidian TNT cannons around the walls, and fire several TNT blasts into the country, destroying part of the hotdog van’s roof. George joins the call, gets filled in on what’s been happening, and assists in the chaos. Eret, the only L’manburgian online, is helpless and can only meekly protest in game chat. As a final message, Dream and Sapnap set fire to Tubbo’s house (the second time) and Dream gives his famous “white flags” ultimatum.

August 1st:

The ultimatum’s war date was pushed back a day due to Twitter drama. The final evening before war, Dream, after doing his serious stream, logs onto the server and blows up Tommy’s land with TNT, exploding part of the beloved Cuck Shed. Wilbur, in VC, tells Tommy to return the favor to Dream, but instead, Tommy chooses not to fight fire with fire. Impressed, Wilbur makes Tommy his right hand man. Eret joins Dream’s side around this time.

August 2nd:

The day of war comes. Dream’s side goes to Tubbo’s jungle base to kill Tubbo repeatedly. There’s a brief conflict at the Power Tower. Wilbur logs on - the L’manburg side is grossly underprepared. They meet at the Embassy and exchange fire with the Dream SMP members. After Dream seems to retreat, Eret suggests they return to L’manburg, saying he has a “secret weapon:” Eret has been grinding for items.

He leads them down a long tunnel into a blackstone “Final Control Room.” The chests are empty, and Tommy pushes a button in the middle of the room, wondering what its function is. The redstone doors slide open and Dream’s men ambush and kill all of them, leaving them with nothing.

After speaking with Wilbur, who refuses surrender, Dream returns to L’manburg and lights a piece of TNT at the entrance, triggering tons of TNT that had been laid beneath the ground beforehand to ignite. Tommy leads everyone into a final bunker. As one last chance at independence, Tommy challenges Dream to a bow duel for Mellohi. George and Wilbur have a short exchange in which they reflect on their Pizza Hut Date, wondering how they could end up like this, with their men fighting each other on opposite sides. Wilbur tells George he should have been on their side as a British person. Eret too.

Tommy and Dream take ten paces and fire at each other on the Prime Path.

Tommy loses the duel.

Instead of giving up just Mellohi, though, Tommy asks Dream if he could give up Cat as well in return for “technical independence.” Dream agrees. Wilbur declares independence again, putting himself as President, Tommy as Vice President, and Tubbo as Secretary of State. Eret, meanwhile, is declared king of the Dream SMP.

YOOOOOOOOOOOO...you know the rest.

Jack Manifold is whitelisted. It’s a silver-lining ending.

Post-War Period General Events

August 3rd (?), VOD uploaded August 6th*:

On Jack’s first day, Dream attempts to bribe Jack onto his side with riches, real money, and books containing secret codes. Jack decides to act as a double agent.

VOD uploaded August 7th*:

Fundy and Eret continue their pranks. Eret builds his two towers to watch over L’manburg - Fundy completely destroyed the first of them, which is why Eret’s towers are now reinforced with obsidian. That same stream where Fundy “shrank” the tower was where Tommy and Jack first heard the tale of Fundy’s heritage. Fundy explained that his mother was a salmon (they came up with the name “Sally”) and that she was an accountant who raised him the best she could. Tommy and Jack are understandably weirded out by this.

August 6th:

Niki is also whitelisted and joins the server. The original Camarvan is torn down, and Wilbur introduces the first version of the L’manburg National Anthem.

The Drug Park Trivia Contest

August 9th:

Due to L’manburg needing more funds, Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo get together and create a drug park business to attract drug dealers and women. They see four chickens hanging out near some gravel and name them Clementine, Clementine, Clementine and Clementine, deciding that gravel must attract women. PPA (Ponk-Purpled-Alyssa) signs a trade agreement with L’manburg.

The drug park attracts a confused Dream, who wanders around through the alleyways. Dream gets scammed and then scams them back, so Wilbur challenges Dream to a trivia contest.

August 10th:

Fundy takes off his revolutionary outfit and he and Wilbur get into a brief argument over it. Eret continues to build his second tower. Wilbur asked Tommy and Tubbo to prepare the trivia questions together, but while Tubbo had researched real trivia, Tommy put in bullshit questions that were later removed from the point score.

Dream loses the trivia contest and jumps off a cliff.

The Disc Saga: Showbiz Business

August 13th*:

After Tommy, Tubbo, Thunder, Skeppy and Fundy give a performance of Hamilton and Macbeth to Dream, gaining Dream’s favor, Skeppy tells Tommy he has Spirit’s leather. Tommy, seeing an opportunity to use Dream’s sentimental attachment to get Dream on his good side, asks Skeppy for the leather. Instead, Skeppy trades the leather back to Dream in return for one of the discs. Tommy gets Quackity in a VC to try and intimidate Skeppy (Quackity fails), then asks for Quackity to be whitelisted. Dream whitelists Quackity.

This was also around the time that Fundy kidnapped Punz’s bee, Beenis, and was put on trial, resulting in the birth of Tubbo’s alter ego: Big Law. This would come into play during the Pet War.

The Cartel

August 17th:

Quackity joins the server.

He is initially not allowed to join L’manburg.

He and Tommy start the Cartel together, going on a heist and cracking jokes about John Lennon. This is an overarching scheme over the course of several streams. Tommy ends up building a summer house for himself in the hills, and constructs a drug lab in its basement which he uses with Quackity to attempt a drug scheme.

August 28th*:

Later, after Tommy finishes his summer home and names the several cows who live there, Quackity kidnaps the one named Henry and threatens his life, as he feels that Tommy has become too attached to Henry and is no longer dedicated to the Cartel. Quackity forces Tommy to play a sick trivia game show where if he gets an answer wrong, a cow dies. Tommy asks Tubbo for help, but Tubbo sides with Quackity for the drama. The conflict ends in violence, but Henry is still alive.

Tommy and Wilbur Revive the Server

August 19th*:

Tommy, concerned that the SMP is dying due to Tubbo not being online, calls in Wilbur and Quackity for a chill stream. He and Wilbur rebuild the Camarvan very, very poorly, turning it into a monstrosity of a dirt-bug held together by cobblestone. This wasn’t very consequential, I just included it to explain how the Camarvan ended up looking like That.

The Disc Saga: Railway Skirmish

August 23rd*:

One day, Tommy was hanging around at his summer home. He hops in a minecart and accidentally runs Dream over. Dream uses the /kill command as a funny way to mess with Tommy (and the audience), causing him to die and lose all his stuff. Dream hadn’t been expecting Tommy to take advantage of it. Unbeknownst to Tommy, Tubbo runs in and snatches Dream’s prized sword, hiding it underground.

Tommy and Tubbo realize that with all of Dream’s gear in their possession, they finally have the high ground, and try and use that high ground to trade Dream for the disc. Wilbur joins and questions Tommy about why they’re trying to cause conflict, as L’manburg can’t afford to fight another war so soon. Wilbur orders them to return Dream’s things and apologize. Dream doesn’t give Tommy the disc, but does trade Tommy for Spirit’s leather in return for his stuff back. Tommy tries and fails to trade Skeppy the leather for the disc. He and Sapnap also then team up to kill Dream, but Sapnap betrays Tommy after being threatened and Tommy never succeeds in getting a disc back.

Tubbo reveals to Tommy afterwards that he’d hidden Dream’s sword, and they’d successfully kept it: they now have leverage.

Church Prime

August 24th:

Tommy and Dream put their differences aside for one day and start a religion together after plugging Twitch Prime for twenty minutes straight, to Tubbo’s disapproval. Quackity assists as well. The Vape Tower and Holy Land are created. Dream levitates into the air and /kill’s himself, then gets resurrected. One of the funniest streams the SMP’s ever had.

Church Prime has been born!

The Disc Saga: Spirit Scam / Start of the Pet War

August 27th*:

Tommy is enraged by Sapnap killing one of his beloved cows, Harold. He griefs Sapnap’s house and also informs Niki that her pet, a little fox named Fungi, was also killed by Sapnap. Niki is furious. She, Tommy and Tubbo kidnap Mars and Beckerson with the intentions of holding them for ransom as revenge. Dream, concerned about this, tries to reason with them. He can’t let Mars and Beckerson die at any cost.

While the sides make their threats, Dream locks up the jukebox room in Tommy’s house with obsidian and starts playing the real Mellohi to taunt them out of cockiness. Tubbo and Tommy manage to snatch Mellohi and put it in an ender chest. Dream, realizing he’d screwed up, names a fake Mellohi disc “Tommy’s Disc” and tries to convince them that that was the real one.

After plenty of scamming involving Dream’s sword, Spirit, Mellohi, the fish, and a confusing switcheroo, Tommy ends up with the real Mellohi and the real Spirit, while Dream keeps Beckerson and Mars in his possession. Niki just wanted an apology.

The Pet War

August 29th*:

After taking a brief recess from the SMP, Fundy logs on and starts to catch up on what he’s missed. He’s confused by Church Prime, but is more concerned with chat spamming “RIP Fungi.” He doesn’t believe it at first, but sees Fungi’s grave in L’manburg and calls Niki, who tells him what happened. Furious, he says that Sapnap must pay.

He asks Dream for Mars, but Dream is unwilling to give her to him. Instead, Dream leads Fundy and Niki to the dog house and show them the pets. He tells them that Skechers is Sapnap’s fox, but they didn’t hear it from him. As he is unable to kill one of his own kind, Fundy asks Niki to murder it with a pickaxe.

After a scavenger hunt stream with George, Dream tells Sapnap what happened. Sapnap, enraged, kills Niki’s animals and Fundy’s enderman pet. The Dream Team hide their remaining animals off screen.

August 31st*:

Fundy gets Beenis and a beehive at Tubbo’s base and offers to play a cruel game with Punz in which Punz chooses to spare one of the beenests while the other is thrown into fire. Punz decides that choosing is better than leaving Beenis in an enderchest and chooses. They place down the spared beenest but no bee comes out. Tommy and Tubbo arrive in full armor, looking ominously at Punz. Fundy explains the situation to them, favoring his side of the story, and Tommy and Tubbo defend him as one of their own. Fundy has started a war.

September 1st:

Fundy and Niki get a pet bee named Beelloon. They hide it in an obsidian box to keep it safe. They also locate Sapnap’s pets based on small details in the background of George’s stream.

Sapnap and Punz arrive one day after a Twitch Rivals tournament and force Fundy to watch as they explode Fungi’s grave with TNT. Fundy says they should end the fighting for good with a duel: one vs. one, Sapnap and Fundy.

September 10th:

Fundy builds a scaled-down version of Technoblade and Dream’s arena just behind his base. Tubbo referees the duel between Fundy and Sapnap. Fundy loses. Sapnap takes Niki’s fish and starts to play the same game with Fundy, but stops at the last second - it’s not worth stoking up the fires of war again. He congratulates Fundy on being a worthy competitor and leaves after returning the fish to Fundy. The Pet War ends there.

The Election

September 3rd*:

Tubbo and Fundy get into an argument that threatens to tear L’manburg apart in Civil War. Tommy, while Wilbur isn’t online, is the one left in charge of diffusing the conflict, which he does successfully. The next day (September 4th*), Wilbur logs back on and Tommy fills him in on what he’s missed. They decide that they need to consolidate power, and choose to hold a rigged election where they’re the only party that can be voted for. Quackity, after learning this, states that he’ll be running as well to prevent their dictatorship, declaring his campaign “SWAG2020.” This throws a wrench in Wilbur and Tommy’s plans. Wilbur and Tommy’s party is renamed “POG2020.”

September 9th*:

The Presidential debate is held in Tubbo’s King’s Court. Quackity reveals that Georgenotfound is his running mate. Tommy attempts a smear campaign against him, then later accepts bribery from Karl, who was overseeing the debate. Tubbo takes Karl’s spot to be less biased. Fundy states that he wants to run for president as well. September 15th, Tommy gains Sapnap’s vote by publicly denouncing Fundy, telling him that if Wilbur weren’t Fundy’s father, Fundy would be kicked out of L’manburg. The following days, they hold a few more rallies, sing a duet of Let it Go, and Wilbur, Tommy and Quackity construct the White House while speaking Spanish. This is also the birth of “Tubbox.”

September 20th:

They hold one last rally where the parties show off their endorsements. POG2020 is endorsed by Vikkstar. Georgenotfound is a no-show. Everyone wonders where he is, with one of the running theories being that he’s off editing the Vlog. Fundy and Niki announce their campaign: COCONUT2020.

Tommy and Wilbur have one last endorsement up their sleeve: Schlatt logs onto the server. He’s been unbanned. Instead of endorsing POG2020, however, he accidentally endorses COCONUT2020 and then decides to run his own candidacy, SCHLATT2020. Violence breaks out, Tommy, Wilbur and Quackity all escape underground. Wilbur and Tommy offer to combine votes with Quackity, but Quackity refuses after they reveal the offer is conditional on their own defeat. Instead, Quackity decides to partner with Schlatt.

Also worth mentioning is the fact that Wilbur asked for Tommy’s Mellohi disc, the real one, to keep until they’d won the election. Tommy gives it to him.

Schlatt’s Inauguration

September 21st:

HBomb is added to the server. Wilbur gets on the podium and states the election results: POG2020 won the popular vote by 45%, but was beaten out by the combined vote total of SCHLATT2020 and SWAG2020 of 46%, making Schlatt the President and Quackity the Vice President. Schlatt designates Tubbo as his right-hand man, still Secretary of State.

Schlatt’s decrees are as follows, given throughout the rest of the stream: Tommy and Wilbur’s citizenship is revoked, the walls are torn down, L’manburg is renamed to Manberg.

Tommy and Wilbur escape into the woods (Tommy’s second exile) and Technoblade offers them assistance. Technoblade logs onto the server and they find a ravine to make a barracks in: Pogtopia.

Tommy and Wilbur then go to negotiate with Schlatt for a one-day visa to L’manburg for Ninja’s visit. Schlatt agrees to it.

Ninja’s Visit

September 25th*:

Ninja visits and streams with Tommy for a day. He ends up getting married to Georgenotfound and using their marriage to get the Pogtopians an extended visa without Schlatt’s knowledge.

Pet War II: Battle of the Lake

Sapnap and Karl, who were engaged to marry with a wooden Eiffel Tower as their honeymoon spot, attempt to kidnap Henry. Instead, Sapnap accidentally kills Henry with fall damage.

October 5th:

Tommy is beyond enraged at the death of Henry, and goes to grief Skeppy’s property with Niki while he’s grieving. Dream joins and helps Tommy lavacast the Eiffel Tower. They attempt to frame Badboyhalo for this, which starts a new conflict and a battle between Skeppy and Bad against Dream and Tommy.

Sapnap logs on, Tommy confronts him, and Sapnap eats Henry’s corpse. Antfrost also joins in on Bad and Skeppy’s side. The fight continues, and Dream and Tommy escape into the wilderness together and a chase ensues. Niki is taken hostage.

Dream decides to entrust Tommy with one of the most valuable pets on the server: Mars. Tommy must never, under any circumstances, harm her. Tommy tells Sapnap he has Mars, but Sapnap doesn’t believe Dream would trust Tommy with such a thing at first.

Everyone heads to Pogtopia. Tommy gives his famous “I have the Blade” line and Technoblade logs on. Dream also joins Techno and Tommy’s side. They declare it the Battle of the Lake after a tiny pond next to Tommy’s Intimidation Tower. Punz swaps sides mid battle, and Dream, Tommy and Techno overpower the opposing side, claiming victory.

Dreamon Hunters

October 7th:

Tubbo and Fundy want to create some chaos, but their targets keep logging off and foiling their plans. Eventually, Dream logs on, and that’s when they get the idea to perform an exorcism on Dream. They get Dream to Skeppy’s Mansion and perform a complicated ritual, ending with them logging out and then back in again, and Dream exploding TNT, killing himself and also Tubbo in the blast. After this exorcism, Dream seems...different. He says he wants to be a builder, he wants to hug Technoblade, and his IQ is...75!

Tubbo and Fundy think at first that they’ve successfully removed the Dreamon, but after performing a test with an iron door, everything goes sour. In a last effort to get Dream back to normal, Fundy recreates his marriage proposal scene with Dream. Dream ascends into the air, explodes, and all seems to go back to normal...until DreamXD logs on.

October 15th:

In a second stream, Tubbo and Fundy get their proper Dreamon Hunter outfits, set up a base of operations on the beach near the Mansion, and recruit Sapnap to assist them.

The Festival

VOD uploaded October 10th*:

Tommy has an idea to connect the Prime Path from Pogtopia all the way to Dream SMP, but accidentally reveals Tubbo’s tunnel to Quackity in the process. This leads to a split between Tommy and Wilbur, in which Wilbur snaps and tells Tommy that this is why he isn’t the President and never will be.

Schlatt comes on. He ignores the tunnels, but announces something new: The official Manberg Festival, a celebration of democracy and freedom. With this announcement, Wilbur starts to have doubts about his intentions. Why should he want to go against someone who was democratically elected, hosting fun events for the citizens? Wilbur has a realization: he’s the villain. A few minutes pass, and he’s completely gone, slipping into paranoia about everyone’s loyalties as he starts to distrust that even Tubbo is on his side. He has a plan to blow the entire place up with TNT, and asks Dream to help.

At the end of the day, Tubbo and Tommy have a moment by the bench. Tubbo reveals to Tommy that he’d been given a Mellohi disc by Wilbur, who had also given a copy to Tommy as well. They question why Wilbur would give them both copies of Mellohi, and try to hide the truth about the disc. Tubbo says he probably has the real one.

In the coming days, Tubbo and Fundy help create the decorations. Fundy, meanwhile, has been questioning his loyalties. He wonders what Tommy and Wilbur ever really did for the country in their administration.

October 16th:

The day of the Festival arrives. Everyone, including Technoblade, has been invited except for Wilbur and Tommy. Techno joins in with the party activities, and it’s a joyous day. Tommy and Wilbur wait on the roof, and have a brief conversation with Tubbo before the moment arrives. Wilbur accuses Tubbo of being a yes-man, explains that there’s a key phrase in the speech to activate the TNT. There are twenty pieces of TNT beneath Schlatt’s chair alone.

He puts Tubbo in charge of making the final decision of whether Manberg stays or falls. It’s up to Tubbo to say the line. As the party settles, Tubbo goes up to give his speech. He says it, Schlatt prompts him for more, and Tubbo says the line. Wilbur and Tommy hop down to press the button, but Schlatt gives a little chuckle. He and Quackity start trapping Tubbo in concrete, keeping him in Schlatt’s chair while everyone looks on in confusion. Wilbur and Tommy pause – they can’t detonate the TNT with Tubbo in the blast radius. Schlatt reveals that he’d known about Tubbo’s spying all along, and calls up Technoblade for a favor.

Schlatt orders Technoblade to execute Tubbo. A few shots from Techno’s rocket launcher, and the deed is done. Techno then turns and massacres the crowd as Tommy pearls onto the podium and Wilbur searches around for the button, which he’d lost. Wilbur confronts Schlatt in order to defend Niki, but Schlatt orders Niki’s death and everyone runs back to Pogtopia.

Tommy is fuming at Technoblade, and the two have a short fist fight in a combat pit to settle their differences. Tommy loses, but his rage still remains. Techno tells him that the only universal language is violence, and now that they’ve settled that issue, it’s time to move on.

October 19th:

A few days after the festival, Tommy comes online and overhears an argument between Quackity and Schlatt over the destruction of the White House. Quackity snaps at Schlatt, shoots him, and runs off into the forest while Schlatt tears the building down. Tommy meets with him, and Quackity is recruited into the rebellion. Wilbur comes on and gets filled in. Wilbur also reveals that he’d found the button room off stream, and shows it to Tommy and Quackity. He only needed two witnesses. Tommy and Quackity trap Wilbur into the corner before he can press it, though, and talk him down into taking another approach for now.

The Meeting

November 2nd:

It’s Niki’s birthday party. A fun-filled gathering hosted by Karl at his new Haunted Mansion, featuring several members of the SMP. Wilbur and Quackity are both there, and hang around after the party to sing love-hate songs to one another while playing the guitar. After Quackity sings one last song to Wilbur, though, things turn south. Wilbur tells Quackity that he’s going to blow up Manberg, and Quackity is going to watch. Everyone runs to Manberg in a panic as Wilbur starts playing the chords to Hallelujah. He begins to sing the L’manburg National Anthem in preparation, but Quackity manages to convince him not to do it. Wilbur gives Quackity an ultimatum: set up a meeting with Schlatt by the coming Friday, or Manberg gets blown to smithereens.

November 6th:

Friday comes. Quackity and Schlatt have a meeting in which Quackity attempts to trick Schlatt into signing away his presidency. Schlatt doesn’t fall for it. He, Quackity and Tommy wander through the woods while Wilbur makes his way to the button. But Schlatt reveals that he’d found out about the Button Room, and he’d disconnected the button’s redstone and moved the TNT somewhere else.

Coincidentally, Fundy had just done a massive prank marathon the day before, and one of his many pranks was to fill Pogtopia to the brim with buttons…loads, and loads, of buttons.

Everyone meets in Pogtopia. Badboyhalo arrives as well, and Fundy comes to reveal his Spy’s Diary, a book of information he’d collected on Schlatt throughout the entire administration with details on Schlatt’s deteriorating health. Wilbur starts to realize that instead of no one being on their side, everyone was on their side. Just as he comes to that idea, though, Dream joins the call and there’s another reveal: a traitor in their midst. Wilbur and Dream agree to end things for good on November 16th: the final war for L’manburg’s fate.

Pet War III: The Panda Skirmish

November 5th:

While in the jungle, Punz finds a panda and Sapnap helps retrieve it, saying that if anyone touches the panda, who they named Dumptruck, it would be a battle.

Once they get back, though, Antfrost, with assistance from Badboyhalo, attempts to steal the panda for the animal sanctuary. During the movement of the panda around from place to place as Punz and Sapnap attempt to get it back, the panda dies due to Punz’ armor enchantments. They blame the Badlands for the panda’s death, as if they hadn’t tried to steal it, the panda would still be alive.

As things break out into all-out war, Sam joins the fray to help the Badlands. Sapnap threatens Fran, saying Fran would not be able to come back if the dog died.

The battle ends in the victory of the Dream SMP members, and the defeat of the Badlands.

Pet War IV: The Final Pet War

November 15th:

The night before the final war, Tommy and Sapnap finally have their confrontation about Sapnap stealing Tommy’s horse, Juorse, not too long before.

Tommy and Techno meet with Sapnap. Sapnap, surprisingly, advocates for talking out the conflict instead of immediately breaking out into fighting. All he wanted was Mars back.

They meet at the Community House and negotiate. While Sapnap returned Juorse to Tommy, however, Tommy refused to give up Mars. Sapnap killed Juorse in retaliation, angering Tommy. Tommy runs away, while Dream and George join the server with the intention to kill Sapnap for an unexplained reason.

After a chase, Tommy is led to Sapnap’s secret base and shown his remaining pets. Sapnap tells Tommy to kill them. Tommy, refusing to stoop to Sapnap’s pet-killing level, says no. To settle the conflict, Sapnap and Tommy agree to a duel at Eret’s museum. Sapnap wins very quickly. While Tommy is being made fun of by the others, though, Sapnap is gracious and does not. He respects Tommy as an opponent, and the two go off on their own to talk.

Tommy tells Sapnap that all the Pet Wars have to end, for good this time. He says Sapnap has to let go of Mars. If he truly loves Mars, and doesn’t want to see her passed around as a bargaining chip forever, she should be freed.

Sapnap, though saddened, agrees, and they set Mars free at the shore, watching her swim out to sea.

Free at last.

The Manberg-Pogtopia War: Finale of Season One

November 16th:

It’s war day. All hell is about to break loose. Dawn of the finale.

Tubbo logs on to prepare, and ends up getting stalked and killed by Dream. Dream allows him to retrieve his items, though – it was just a show of strength.

Quackity and Tubbo share a few moments of reflection together. They discuss who could possibly be the traitor. They both suspect Tommy.

On top of Ponk’s tower, they make a promise to each other. At the count of ten, they would stand opposite each other with the Eye blocking their view, and would, at the same time, take a step to one side. Towards the city if they would stay and fight, and towards the forest if they would run. The count reaches zero: they both step to the side to fight.

Tubbo starts to question if this is all just history repeating itself, if every war since the Disc War is just bound to end in defeat.

Karl attempts to bribe pretty much everyone on the Pogtopia side to join Manberg, with little success.

Eret is confronted by Dream, who asks him where his power comes from. Eret says respect, but Dream says the only reason Eret is king is because of an axe and a shield: the people who fight in his name. Dream warns Eret to stay neutral, sit on his throne and look pretty. Eret decides to betray, and Dream revokes his kingship. In Eret’s place he puts George, fulfilling his promise from the first L’manburg war. George is pleased, and then goes off to continue building a little mushroom house for himself, which would of course go on to become a vital plot point of Season Two.

Eret joins the Pogtopians (minus Tommy and Wilbur) at Manberg. They head to a little spot by the sea and set up a board to discuss who is on their side, and who is not. Meanwhile, Tommy and Wilbur log on together. Tommy protects the L’mantree in a wall of obsidian, and beneath the Power Tower, Tommy plays the disc Mellohi and Wilbur rants, threatening to blow up the country.

Everyone meets in Pogtopia. Wilbur has also started to give out blue dye, which he calls “blue.” Techno leads them all to his secret base and the vault beneath, revealing all the items he’d grinded for. Everyone stocks up on supplies, but they didn’t realize that the Netherite armor was full of useless enchantments that Techno had put on it to disguise the truth: that he was planning on fighting them all along.

Everyone then charges across Tommy’s bridge to Manberg and ascends Eret’s second tower to shoot down on the Manbergians. The fight continues on the ground, ending with Dream asking Wilbur to talk. It was time to negotiate for Manberg’s surrender.

He leads everyone to Schlatt, who was hiding out in the Camarvan completely drunk. Everyone gathers around Schlatt as he gives his last words, last rants, and then abruptly dies of a heart attack or stroke. Everyone is surprised, but uneasily happy.

Wilbur makes Tommy the President. Tommy goes up on the podium to give a speech, but says he can’t be the President right now: he still has a Disc War with Dream to fight. Instead, he makes Wilbur the President.

Wilbur gives a speech, but says he can’t be President as well. Instead, he gives the Presidency to Tubbo. (This is the point where, on Philza’s Hardcore stream, he tunes in to hear Tubbo’s speech)

Tubbo gives a speech and actually accepts the Presidency. Wilbur says he’ll be right back and heads off, causing Phil some concern. Wilbur heads to the button room, Phil realizes what’s going on, and Phil scrambles to get on the server, desperate to stop his son.

During Tubbo’s speech, Dream messages Techno, pointing out that Techno is anti-government. Techno doesn’t like how this is going, and decides to assassinate Tubbo with his rocket launcher, causing panic. A fight breaks out.

Tommy and the others are told by Dream that there is a traitor: the traitor is Wilbur. Everyone realizes in horror that Wilbur is nowhere to be seen.

Wilbur is confronted in the button room by Phil. He gives a short speech before giving his final line: “It was never meant to be,” and presses the button. Manberg goes up in a blast. Afterwards, as Tommy and the others watch, Wilbur begs Phil to kill him, and Phil does.

Techno tells Tommy the tale of Theseus and spawns two withers.

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!”

Wilbur respawns, wanders around the SMP, has a short moment at Eret’s museum and then returns to Manberg, at which point he gets attacked by a wither. He decides to end stream, and declares Tubbo the President of a crater.

In the aftermath of the final battle, everyone surveys the damage. Tubbo creates his new cabinet, Techno and Phil speak with one another as well.

Tommy, Tubbo and Dream all agree to a moment of truce as they listen to a disc at the bench together, sitting side by side.

With that, Season One draws to a close.

It’s not the end.

Just a new beginning.

---

...And that’s about it for now!

Season One of the Dream SMP was a half-year-long wild ride to experience, full of countless fond memories and all-around good times.

Here’s to what comes next!

I hope you enjoyed!

#mcyt #dream smp #dreamsmp #dream smp recaps #dream smp timeline #long posts #reference #dream smp lore

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Note

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt.

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

1K notes · View notes

smutophile · 3 years

Text

Crime & Punishment (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: Your CEO catches you in the office late at night watching naughty videos and decides to show you just how naughty girls are punished.

Warnings: Dub con, spanking, masturbation

Word count: 3k

You sat at your desk and watched the sun start to set on another dreary New York Friday. The rest of the staff on your level had left almost over an hour ago but you had agreed to be the one to stay behind to assist the West Coast should any problems arise. The pro was getting to start work later but the obvious con was sitting alone in an office building late at night whilst the rest of your co-workers started their weekend.

It didn't bother you so much. You lived alone - you worked alone. You were used to being alone. The night shift in the office was quiet. California very rarely ever called you with problems at this time of night. It was peaceful. You’d do what you always do when you had quiet time. You pulled out your phone and escaped into your fantasy world that would always stay just that - a fantasy.

You read your dirty stories, your smut. You looked around to make sure you really were alone. Nobody wandered down to your level at this time of night. You hadn’t seen your boss in weeks - he only showed up when something was wrong so the less you saw of him the better. Although - he wasn’t so hard on the eyes. Steve Rogers - CEO. Young for a CEO but such a babe. Strong muscular build with a beard that just screams daddy. It was no wonder when you read your stories, the dark mysterious man always morphed into a familiar face in your mind. The things you would love that man to do to you.

Lost in your daydream you kept scrolling, not paying attention to the world around you. Lost in your own fantasies. You failed to notice footsteps approaching your desk. Failed to notice the figure looming behind you. Watching as you scrolled through videos of naughty schoolgirls having their bottoms turned a nice shade of pink.

“You know - watching porn on work time is punishable by immediate termination”

The boding voice made you jump out of your seat, your phone falling out of your hands and straight to Mr Rogers’ feet.

“I didnt..I wasn’t...i’m sorry” You stuttered...desperately trying to grab the phone from the ground and stop the video that was playing. It was too late. Your boss had the phone in his hands and could see all too well what you had been doing.

“Are you going to try to tell me this was an accident? You just stumbled across this website and accidentally watched this video?” He spoke so smoothly with a smirk adorning his face.

You were silent. What could you say? You had just been caught red handed by the very person you had been fantasizing about.

He turned your phone off and placed it on the desk next to you. You kept your eyes down and twisted your fingers in your hands. You stared at the ground and prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. This was the most humiliating moment of your life. It couldn't get any worse.

“I could fire you…” He paused. Another smirk lining his face. “Or we could come up with another punishment to fit the crime”

“Anything...please. I need this job” Your voice was shaky. But you were confident. If he was willing to give you another chance you would take it.

“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't go making deals with the devil. You are bound to get burnt”

He closed the gap between you and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“Bend over the desk”

You hesitated. Had you heard him correctly? He couldn't be serious. You searched his eyes to see if he was joking.

“Or you can pack your things and leave and never return. Which will it be?”

He crossed his arms. His face was hard to read. This man was strong and intimidating but this was coercion. Was he really capable of this?

The fear was evident in your body language but deep down there was a part of you that was secretly excited by the prospect of what was to come.

You moved slowly but efficiently. You laid your body over the desk and stretched your arms out in front of you. You could no longer see Steve but you could feel him. He ran his fingers down your spine. Your body was scared - the hairs on your arms standing up. But your mind - your mind was racing with all the possibilities of what was about to happen.

Steve placed his hands at the base of your skirt and lifted it slowly to reveal your white cotton panties. Your cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Of course you hadn't thought to put on sexy lacy underwear. Nobody would see them. He rolled the skirt all the way up to your waist and left it there with your ass on display.

“Hmmmm - what to do with you?” He questioned. You’d never heard him so satisfied. You only ever heard him barking orders or demanding answers. This was a completely different voice. A voice which quite literally sent shivers down your spine.

“Have you ever been spanked before?” You could hear him rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt. Running his fingers over your underwear.

“No” You shook your head. You had imagined it in your head over and over again but you could never voice your fantasies out loud.

He quickly pulled your ponytail sharply - snapping your head up off the desk.

“No - what?” He spoke forcibly. Now your body was terrified. Your legs shaking and sweat started forming on your forehead.

“No...sir?” You phrased it as more of a question than a statement. Not sure exactly what he was looking for but desperate to please him.

He released your hair and gently pushed your face back down onto the desk. Apparently that was the right answer.

“I think ten smacks with my hand will be a good start. You don’t need to count”

He walked around to the side to give himself the room that he needed. Your heart was beating so fast and so loud you were almost certain he could hear it.

The first smack took you by surprise. A lard thud on your right butt cheek. The surprise of the hit shocked you more than the pain did. It wasn't so bad. You could take 10 of these. Especially with your underwear on to protect you. You were at least grateful for that small mercy.

He didn't wait very long for the next smack. This one hurt a little more. You let out the breath you had been holding but still didn't speak a word. You tried hard to keep your mouth closed throughout the next few hits but the pain was increasing. His delicate hands crashing down on your ass in quick succession alternating from left to right. You could feel tears filling in your eyes. From pain or humiliation you weren't sure.

At about smack number 5 you let out your first yelp. What you thought would come out as a cry of pain sounded more like a moan of pleasure. The spanking hurt and Steve was not holding back. He barely waited between each hit and showed no sign of slowing down. You were not enjoying this. You couldn't. This was supposed to hurt but you felt your body betraying you. Or was your mind betraying your body?

At smack number 10 you finally let the tears spill over from your eyes but still keeping your mouth closed. It quivered but you wouldn't dare speak or let him hear you. You could feel him rub his hand over your bottom in a surprising show of kindness. He gently ran his hand up your back and flicked the hair out of your face and to one side.

“That's a good girl. Take a deep breath for me now” His words were like music to your ears. You had no idea how much you wanted to please him. How much you wanted him to be happy with you. You followed his instructions and took a big gulp of air. You kept your body laying over the desk - too scared to move or do anything that could upset him.

“You did so well for your first time. Lets see if you liked what I did to you”

Your tears were almost gone now. Your shock and fear were replaced by a whole new range of emotions. Excitement...lust.

He dipped his fingers into your panties and dragged them down to your feet. He helped you lift up to your feet one by one and placed the panties in his pocket. He kicked your feet apart and forced your body to spread itself on display.

“Oh my - you certainly did enjoy your spanking”

You buried your face into the desk and curled your fingers in embarrassment. You wanted to tell yourself you didn't enjoy what he was doing to you. The pain was intense but you couldn't hide the juices leaking out of your pussy and graciously down your thighs. You were beyond wet. You were dripping.

Steve ran a finger through your slit and the moan that escaped your lips could not be controlled. He held his glistening fingers up to the light and inspected your arousal.

Your body was on fire. The spanking had left your behind burning but your pussy was throbbing. Your clit felt electric and you tried desperately to get the much needed friction on it to give you a spark.

Steve could see you rubbing your cunt against the desk desperately like a dog on heat. You were past the point of caring now. Humiliation had taken a back seat now and the driver was your absolute need to orgasm. There was no other thought - you had never needed to get off more than at this very moment.

Steve dipped his fingers back to your slit and ran them up towards your clit eliciting yet another guttural moan from your lips. His touch felt like a live wire had just been connected to your pussy and you were being electrocuted.

He removed his finger after just a brush against your clit and watched you try desperately for more. More friction...more anything. You needed more.

“Get up on the desk. On your hands and knees” He ordered. That was the voice you were used to. The one that always got what he wanted. Nobody questioned him when he demanded something and this wasn’t a question. It was an order. Who were you to disobey?

You complied instantaneously. Keeping your head forward and lifting your body up onto the table on full display for Steve to see. He pushed your shoulders down so that you were on your elbows but still keeping your ass in the air. Your body shivered in anticipation.

You could still feel the heat on your ass from your spanking. It felt as though welts might appear in the shape of his hand prints. That thought got you even more excited. A temporary reminder of what had happened tonight. That this was real.

Steve placed an object in your hand. It was small - cylindrical shaped. Almost like a tube of lipstick. Except - he flicked a switch on the object and you instantly knew what this was. The vibrations ran all down your arm. It was tiny but powerful. A bullet vibrator. He had this in his pocket? You’d have to come back to that thought later. Right now all you knew is that you were naked from the waist down, horny as fuck and you had a vibrator in your hands.

“I want to see you cum” He stated matter of factly. How you wished you could see his face right now. But then again, your boss is looking at your ass and pussy on full display right now. Maybe not being able to look him in the eyes is a good thing.

You took the bullet in your hand and slipped it straight down to your clit. The sensation made you jolt immediately and almost threw you off balance. Steve was still there, his hands on your hips instantaneously to steady you. You got back to work and placed the vibrator back on that sensitive bundle of nerves. It wouldn’t take long for you to get off like this. It would be embarrassingly quick.

SMACK. You heard the smack before you felt the familiar burn of the hit on your ass.

“Ow...fuck” You were not prepared for that. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy for you. Your hand holding the vibrator had slipped back onto the desk to steady yourself from the new onslaught.

“Put that back on your clit now” His voice was low but menacing. Your need to please him...to obey him was back. Your body quickly following his command before your brain could even comprehend what you were doing.

The sting from his hit had faded slightly but the burn remained. The fire was spreading to your cunt and whilst the spanking had put a small delay in your orgasm, it still wouldn't take long. The fight between pain and pleasure in your mind was confusing but pleasure was winning. It always would.

“9 more smacks and then you can cum. Don’t you dare cum before i’ve hit you 10 times” That made things a little more complicated. His voice was threatening. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.

You placed the bullet back on your clit and your body shook with excitement. You were more prepared for the next hit but you were not prepared for the reaction your body would have to the pain. As if on cue, you could feel that familiar sensation in your body. Your orgasm was quickly building. The next two hits came in quick succession. Your legs started to quiver. Your head started to shake back and forth. No no no no. It was happening too fast.

He kept spanking, switching between each butt cheek and alternating where he hit. You barely noticed the pain - instead focusing on how many slaps were landing on your sore behind.

“Please...PLEASE…” You were begging. Desperately. That was the only word you could say right now. Unable to form sentences. Your brain was unable to function right now as your pussy was in charge and nothing else in the world mattered. The sensation had moved from your belly down to your clit and was going to explode any second now. You counted. Nine...Ten...and then - nothing. You were floating...as if there was nothing around you. No desk...no office...just darkness. And then as if you had fallen straight back to earth - your orgasm ripped into you. The feeling took over you as if you had been hit by a freight train. Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm and your pussy clenched in on itself as it rode out the shockwaves with the rest of your body.

You dropped the bullet onto the desk and curled yourself into a ball. Your body still shaking from the aftershock of the most intense orgasm you had ever had in your life. Your breathing was staggered...almost to the point of hyperventilating. ‘As your senses slowly started coming back to you, you could feel Steve’s hands rubbing your ass. Smoothing away the pain.

The reality of what you had just done was starting to sink in. An overwhelming sense of dread taking over your body. Your body was now choosing between fight and flight and running away seemed like the best option right now. You snapped your head up to look at the culprit behind these feelings and your body followed quickly after. You stood up off the desk and peeled your skirt back down to give yourself a tiny bit of dignity back.

You slammed your laptop shut and slid it straight into your bag. You grabbed your phone and handbag and swung around to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Hey hey hey...wait…” His voice was calm, soothing almost. His arms out as they tried to stop you from your escape. Trying to placate you and reason with you. You were beyond reasoning right now.

The tears were back and you could feel a sob building in the back of your throat.

“I can’t….I have to go” You managed to squeak out without sobbing. You started to head for the elevator before his hands were on you again.

“Please...just stop. Let’s talk about this” He was always the voice of reason. A smart business man like him...he knew how to get his way.

“No...i just...I have to go” Your quivering lip giving away your emotion that you were trying to keep bubbled inside of you. You swerved from his grasp and pressed the button on the elevator. He kept his distance from you sensing your fear. You got in and pressed the button for the lobby and kept your head down. Not able to look at him. You didn't want to see his face. His pity. You just needed to get out.

Your trip home was a blur. Somehow you put one foot in front of the other and found yourself in your apartment. Alone. Confused. Angry. A shower would wash away the shame that was enveloping your body. You stripped away your clothes only vaguely registering the fact that you were still missing your underwear.

Once the steam had started to rise from the shower indicating that the water was indeed scolding hot - you slowly placed your head under the spray and let the cascade wash away your tears. You ran your hands through your hair and ran it down your body until they landed on your butt. There was that reminder. That physical painful reminder of the shameful slutty act you had done. The guilt washed over you like a slap in the face.

You allowed yourself to be spanked...by your boss and you masturbated yourself to a mind blowing orgasm...in front of your boss. You consented to this. When you allowed yourself time to think about the severity of what you had done you realized with absolute certainty that you had enjoyed it. You loved it. You craved it. It was everything you had ever wanted and more.

After an eternity, you left the sanctum of your shower and dressed in your pajamas. You grabbed your phone and switched it back on. Nobody would be looking for you. There would be no messages. Except there was. A few missed calls and a text. From an unknown number.

Please let me know that you got home ok.

Your fingers hovered over the phone. Before you could reply a calendar invite popped up.

Meeting. 8pm. Monday night. Steve Rogers office.

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