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writingouthere · 2 months

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exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

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yuwuta · 4 months

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CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART BURNING, CAN YOU FEEL ALL MY GOOD LOVING — ITADORI

cw: mentioned sex, friends to lovers, yuuji greatest boy

The first time that Yuuji asks you out, you reject him. It’s not a matter of not liking him or liking him (even though you do like him, a lot)—it’s a matter of maintaining your friendship, about weighing risk versus reward, and about pushing your personal feelings aside for what’s best for everybody.

Yuuji doesn’t listen. To him, your rejection was just confirmation about what he already knew about you—that you had a tendency to run away or avoid things you didn’t want to confront, but only when you were really, truly scared.

So, in true Yuuji fashion, he takes it to the next level. Despite being rejected, he holds your hand, and pulls you close, gives you kisses on your cheek, and your neck sometimes, and once you even let him leave a hickey, even though you spew the same mantra of—“You shouldn’t—Yuuji we shouldn’t be doing this”—you let him do it every single time.

Because Yuuji knows that you like him back, and he knows that even though you’re scared to say it, deep down you know that he’s always been yours. Because Yuuji is your best friend, and he knows better than anyone how to punch through the walls you so carefully build up. Honestly, you should have learned by now to stop trying to keep him out—he makes his way in every time.

It’s how you end up in bed with him only three mere weeks after rejecting his confession. And even though you’ve both been as close as two people can be, Yuuji knows he’s missing one thing from you; one final seal to show you that he’s it, that there’s nothing to be afraid of, and to get you to stop running once and for all.

Which is exactly why when you ask him if he wants to see thew new Spiderman movie after breakfast, he smiles and puts his plan into action.

“Yeah, of course,” Yuuji grins, “If you say that it’s a date.”

Your smile falls halfway, but Yuuji’s only widens as he slips his hands into his pockets. He waits, expectantly, even through your stunned silence, and you finally sigh when he begins to rock on his heels.

“Yuuji, you know that–”

“What I know is that you’ve got to get out of that head of yours sooner than later,” he says, leaning forward to happily invade your space to tap at your forehead, “And that you love me.”

“Yeah, I kind of thought the confession that I only turned you down because I didn’t want to lose you, and the having sex with you last night kinda let you show that.”

“Yes, yes, there was all of that,” Yuuji moves his hands to cup the sides of your head, looks into your widening eyes and grins, “But I’m giving you a way to make it official in that complicated little head of yours. So, go on, ask me out. I promise I won’t say no.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. Yuuji immediately moves his thumbs to stroke at the tail ends of them as you pout, “What do you mean ‘make it official?’ I know—I mean I hope that all our feelings are official.”

“Make it official to you,” Yuuji clarifies, using his right thumb to tap at your temple, “In that beautiful—” he bends forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, “—smart —” another kiss, “—very complicated —” and another, “—head of yours that I love so much. So, like I was saying: ask me out, so that you get your closure even though you don’t think you need it, and you start seeing and learning that I don’t want to do anything with you without romantic intentions.”

Yuuji presses one last kiss before pulling away to show you his glowing smile. Your expression softens through his speech—confusion sinking into surprise and then pure adoration. You’re slightly amazed that Yuuji has deciphered this for you before you could even fathom a justification behind your emotions, but then again, you think, you shouldn’t be; Yuuji has proved, throughout the course of your friendship and his courtship, that you have his undivided attention—that you are the object of his desires, and as such, it’s only natural that he knows the parts of you that you don’t think about.

So, you concede, push your shock and pride aside, and close that embarrassing gaping mouth of yours because this is Yuuji and for all the shit you’ve put him through, the least you could do is ask him out.

“Okay. Will you go to the movies with me?”

Except when screws up his face and purses his lip in dissatisfaction, you wonder if you should put him through the wringer yourself.

Yuuji’s grip on your head tightens ever so slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, just enough for him to manually shake your head to mirror his own, “You have to make it clearer that you’re asking me out. We go to the movies all the time, I love movies—”

“Yeah, exactly,” you frown, reaching your right hand to grab at Yuuji’s wrist to still your shaking head, “I’m asking you to do something I know you love.”

“Ah, but you see how that’s confusing to me,” Yuuji quips, “I am but your oblivious friend—you have to let me know that you want me to be there with you because you like me, otherwise I might not know for the next twenty-something years, and history will repeat itself and—ow!”

“I get it, you asshole,” you bite. Yuuji gives you a shallow shrug, and a crooked smile, that you, begrudgingly, find endearing. So much so that you groan and let your head fall forward until your forehead is pressed against Yuuji’s chest. You can hear his laughter; feel the way his palms immediately latch to your back to rub shallow circles. “This is stupid. I can’t believe I like you and you’re making me do all this for some three-hour movie.”

“Oh, wrong L-word, try again.”

“Even worse. You know I love you and you insist on making me do this.”

“You must think I’m worth it, or you would have left me hanging a long time ago,” Yuuji gives you another kiss to the crown of your head, before he holds you by the shoulders to urge you to stand up straight, “Now come on, ask me out, sweep me off my feet, m’lady.”

You blink your eyes open slowly, adjusting for the sparkling image of Yuuji standing before you, waiting far too patiently. That awe washes over you again—a wave for the overbearing love you feel for him, another for the incredible soul the boy in front of you is—for how lucky you truly are to have him.

And you are lucky to have Yuuji. To be loved by Yuuji. So, you reach for his hands and wrap yours around them before you look up to face him and ask, “Itadori Yuuji, will you go out with me?”

“Yes, and I’ll do you one better,” he smiles, shakes your hands off so that he can put them on your waist to pull you to his chest, “I’ll be your boyfriend, too.”

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #yuuta x reader #yuuji fluff #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #this needs a header or something but i dont have one #oopsies #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk smau #jjk fake texts

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sinkovia · 2 months

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Black Market

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of Kidnapping.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

Simon sat in his dimly lit house, the dim glow of his computer screen casting shadows across his face. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard as he navigated through the depths of the black market.

His eyes scanned the screen, brows furrowing in frustration as he scrolled through the listings, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. Contract after contract flashed before him, each promising a hefty sum of money in exchange for services rendered.

But to Simon, they were all the same—assassinations, espionage, sabotage. The thrill of danger had lost its appeal long ago, replaced by a sense of weariness and disillusionment.

Cursing under his breath, Simon scrolled through the listings for hire, his frustration growing with each passing moment. There were no personal black market doctors available for hire—every reputable one was already taken. It seemed like luck was against him today.

With a heavy sigh, he closed the browser window and turned his attention to the stack of mail sitting on his desk. Among the bills and junk mail, there it was – a jury duty summons.

He groaned aloud, rubbing his temples in frustration. Spending hours in a stuffy courtroom was the last thing he needed right now. It meant taking time away from his work, time that could be spent securing lucrative contracts and staying ahead of the game.

But there was no avoiding it. He knew he'd have to fulfill his civic duty, no matter how inconvenient it might be. With a resigned shake of his head, he tucked the summons into his pocket, another burden to add to the weight on his shoulders.

You find yourself slumping down on the hard concrete steps in front of the courthouse, the weight of defeat heavy upon you. Having lost your case and now facing a million dollars in debt, the world seems to close in around you. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your pack of cigarettes, seeking solace in the familiar routine.

"Mind sharing your pack?" A deep, coarse voice breaks through your thoughts, and you glance over to see a tall man dressed in black leaning against the railing beside you. Without hesitation, you extend your pack to him, and he takes one before returning the pack to you.

Simon curses to himself, realizing he's forgotten his lighter, confiscated earlier by a courthouse officer. "Mind lighting me? Fuckers at the courthouse took my light," he grumbles, frustration evident in his voice.

You smiled and handed him your lighter, the flame casting a warm glow on his face as he lit his cigarette. "Jury duty?" you asked casually, observing him take a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah, you?" he replied, his tone resigned but with a hint of intrigue.

You laughed wryly and took another drag, the bitter taste of nicotine mingling with the heavy weight of your circumstances. "Just got sued for a million fucking dollars."

"Bloody fuck, what did you do?" Simon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his interest immediately piqued.

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I replaced a man’s heart with a pig heart," you confessed, fully aware of how crazy it sounded.

Simon's eyes widened in intrigue, and without hesitation, he walked over and sat down next to you, his curiosity now fully ignited. Knowing how to perform a heart transplant suggested a level of medical expertise that interested him.

"And how the bloody hell did you do that?" he asked, his curiosity evident in his voice.

“I was just sitting at the intersection for ages waiting for the light to change, when I noticed a guy getting mugged. Without thinking, I grabbed my emergency kit from the car and rushed over. Since I have O negative blood, I used my own blood for a transfusion to stabilize him. Then, I spotted a truck nearby loaded with pigs. I didn't waste a second - I hopped in, grabbed a pig, and performed an open heart surgery right there on the sidewalk. Sure, the guy ended up with a pig heart, but he's alive because of it. And now he's suing me? Unbelievable. Should've left that fuck to die.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, but beneath the laughter, a plan began to form in his mind.

"So he was standing in the courtroom with a pig's heart?"

You shook your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "No, he ended up getting a proper heart transplant. One that would never have happened if I hadn't stepped in. The bastard would've bled out and wasted all my blood before the paramedics even arrived."

"Are you a licensed doctor?”

Open heart surgery on a sidewalk and having O-negative blood? You were better than any doctor he could hire on the black market.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "No, I had my license revoked a few years back. They said my practice and way of thinking were unconventional, that I should be working in a lab making more Frankenstein’s than helping people. I took it as a compliment though. Those doctors were just scared of what I could do, of how far I would go to save someone."

Simon smiled and took another drag before smashing the cigarette on the floor under his boot.

"So you're looking for jobs?"

You sighed, mirroring his action with your own cigarette. "In desperate need for a job."

"I think we could help each other," Simon suggested, his tone shifting slightly.

You slowly side-eyed him, then awkwardly laughed as you leaned away. "I'm not looking for jobs like that."

Simon's eyebrow quirked up before he realized how he sounded, and he shook his head with a smile. "Not like that, love. I meant that you could work for me, and I'd pay you."

You relaxed a bit and leaned back, intrigued. "What do you do?"

"Let's just say, you stay with me as my personal doctor, and I pay you twenty percent after each job I complete. You'll have your money in a couple of months,"

"A million dollars in a couple of months? What kind of jobs are giving you that type of money-" realization dawned on you, and a chill ran down your spine. Simon was involved in something much darker than you anticipated, and memories of your own past involvements in the black market came flooding back, making your palms sweat with unease.

"I'm sorry, but I can't take your offer," you said, your voice firm but polite. Simon furrowed his brows in confusion and frustration. He had just given you an opportunity of a lifetime, one you so desperately needed, and you turned him down?

Internally sighing, Simon knew he'd have to resort to more extreme measures now.

You got up and dusted off your butt before looking down at him. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm going to head out," you said, offering a weak smile before turning and heading to your car.

That night, Simon tracked down where you lived and noted your home address. He packed his duffle bag and got into his car, making his way over to your house. With careful precision, he snuck into your backyard and opened your back window before silently slipping inside.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, scrolling through job offerings in your pajamas, feeling the weight of impending debt pressing down on you. With a heavy sigh, you turned off your monitor, resigned to your fate. That's when you noticed it—the faint outline of a man in the dark reflection of your monitor screen.

Simon attempted to cover your mouth with a rag, but you reacted swiftly, elbowing him hard and knocking the wind out of him. Turning around, you landed a solid punch to his jaw, leaving Simon in disbelief. He had underestimated you.

As you ran, trying to reach your room, Simon quickly pinned you to the floor. Despite your resistance, he managed to overpower you, but you fought back fiercely, headbutting him in the face. Simon grunted, trying his best not to harm you.

You nearly reached your nightstand where you kept your gun, but Simon pinned you down again, this time on your stomach. Desperately, you struggled against him, but Simon pressed a rag against your mouth and nose, forcing you to inhale its contents. Despite your efforts to resist, you eventually succumbed to the effects, your body going limp in a matter of seconds.

Simon breathed deeply as he stood up, his chest heaving with exertion. Opening your nightstand, he retrieved your gun with a heavy sigh. "Bloody hell, love,"

Simon headed to the bathroom in search of your medical supplies. Finding what he needed, he grabbed a trash bag and hastily gathered a few of your clothes and essential items. With a sense of urgency, he tied up the bag and threw it over his shoulder, carefully picking you up and carrying you to his car.

Tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

Text

when the smoke clears • portgas d. ace

vice fire chief!ace helps comfort his subordinate after a rough call.

content + themes: fluff, comfort, ace being a sweetheart (and an asshole 😭), black fem reader, soft smut, oral kissing and hand holding, him + reader crying during 🥹, angst, mentions of arson + child death, so if that triggers anyone I’m sorry.

word count: 6.0K

📝: are y’all sick of me and my cheesy fire pun titles yet? 😁 sorry, I just really love this series and their dynamic. This was also longer than expected but I got carried away! 🫶🏾

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many things came with the responsibility of being a firefighter. It wasn’t an easy occupation by any stretch of the imagination. You saw and did things that the average person had the pleasure of not encountering..entire homes, entire families, generations and years worth of memories wiped out in an instant..you oftentimes risked your life with minimal reward whilst also being tasked with the heavy burden of saving others. But when you failed to do so, the weight of the world felt as if it were teeming on your shoulders and it was far too heavy to lift off on your own. Sure, there was therapy..perhaps even certain mechanisms to help you cope but there are some things you don’t forget. And all of that rang true for the newest recruit at Company Eight, (y/n) (l/n), who had just experienced your very first call that resulted in tragedy rather than a rescue. And needless…it had taken its toll…

“Oh!..Hi, Ace..so nice to see you.”

“Good evening, Miss Robin. How are we doing today?”

it was a chilly Wednesday evening..the impending onslaught of winter just around the corner for the big city. Snow had begun to fall, leaves wilting and turning to that beautiful rustic color that signified the turn of the season. It was such a delightful sight..but for you? The world seemed to be standing still, doused in gray and your heart may as well have turned black. Try as you might to hide it but the pain was still too sudden and fresh to just disappear so soon. Currently, you were home..the very spacious, four bedroom, high rise condo overlooking the city that you shared with your two best friends and roommates, Robin and Nami. Nami, who worked for The National Weather Center as a climatologist spent long hours helping to predict forecasts and track the weather patterns so that they can properly inform citizens of any impending storms. It was a rather unique and lucrative job..ideal for her! As for Robin, she was a professor at the local university, teaching archaeological studies and conducting research. She was a scholar; a woman of many academic achievements and just as your boss had arrived at the front doorstep of you guys home, she was preparing to head out for an overnight excavation, being led by other researchers in the field who needed the expertise and knowledge of someone like her. They were extraordinary, talented women who you were happy to call not only friends but sisters. Even so, with all of their intelligence, there was a topic that seemed too difficult to tackle, even for them…

handling grief. Grief that had accrued from your last call and perhaps the hardest one that the firehouse had seen in a while. It was weighing heavy on the hearts of everyone, even the more seasoned veterans but that didn’t make things any easier.

they had watched you traipse about the condo, in a stupor; spending your days off that would’ve been filled with productivity to do all of the things you couldn’t in your harrowing twenty four hour shifts to lie in bed, cry and sleep. It was awful and they couldn’t imagine what it was you were feeling at the moment. So they decided to call in someone with special expertise to help handle the situation. They had both met Ace prior through mutual friends at a gathering and they couldn’t understand why you held such resentment for such a kind, caring gentleman who seemed to really have a soft spot for you. Sure he gave you a hard time but only because your stubborn ass deserved it. If he didn’t put you in your place, who would?

“I’m doing wonderful. Please, come in.” So whilst the two of them were gone, they’d entrust your fate in the hands of the one person you probably preferred not to see but needed to. For the sake of your sanity and your job! With those deep set eyes, dark hair and signature grin, the vice fire chief made his way over the threshold, exchanging typical pleasantries with your roommate before she offered him warm coffee to help deter the cold and he’d happily accept. It was whilst they were at the table, drinking their beverage did the elephant in the room become addressed.

“So..how is she?”

“If you want my honest opinion? Not so great. We had to drag her out of bed for breakfast and a shower. I’ve never seen her like this before.” She’d also go on to explain how you’d woken up out of your sleep, screaming and reaching out to someone. Saying ‘take my hand’..only to slam back down to the mattress in a fit of tears. You’d laugh one moment, be angry the next and then a full sobbing mess afterwards..the realization was setting in for Robin, who was hurting for you. They were helpless and struggled to understand how it was you were feeling, less known to overcome it. Ace, however, had become accustomed to it and had a far better grasp on how to deal with this. Nodding his head, he’d take another sip before speaking.

“I see…y’know, it’s hard to imagine the girl who takes any opportunity she can to bite my head off actually crying. Just doesn’t seem like her..” but Robin could attest. What most mistook for anger or feistiness with you, your girls knew you were emotional at your core. You carried things much more intensely than everyone else. You felt it deeper than anyone else did and because of that, when instances like this happen, you didn’t exactly handle it well.

“She’s resilient..stronger than anyone I know but she’s also a lot more sensitive. (Y/N) has always had a knack for empathizing with others. It’s what I love about her..that kind heart. She always wants to help those around her..maybe that’s why she was adamant on becoming a firefighter. It’s strange..I wanted to stop her when she told us the news. To grab her and ask if she had gone crazy but…my fear didn’t stem from her rushing into burning buildings or an accident..it was something like this. Because she doesn’t just internalize their feelings..she internalizes their suffering, their pain. She tortures herself into believing that if she can’t help someone then she’s failed as a person. That tough exterior is nothing more than a facade, a mask to keep everyone from seeing just how fragile she is.”

it was then that Ace acquired a better understanding of not only your current mental state but you as a person as well. He knew now that the woman who hid behind these stoic faces and temperamental attitudes was actually a sad child who had never healed from past trauma. However, he couldn’t, in good faith..allow you to come back on shift until you were feeling better and if that never happened, then he’d be forced to resort to more permanent measures. Once the two finished up their coffee, Robin would gather her things and prepare to leave. “I'm going to go tell her goodnight and I’ll let her know you’re here..” With that, the tall, dark haired woman headed towards your bedroom. Her backpack, chocked full of exploration equipment and other necessities tossed over her shoulder along with a thermos in hand. She’d leave a faint knock for which you’d allow her in and that’s when she’d be met with the sight of you lying in bed, curled up in the blankets and cradling a stuffed animal. It was the only bit of comfort you’d had.

“Hey, sweet girl. How are we feeling?” Her deep and soothing tone brought you immediate peace as she sat at the edge of your bed, stroking along the side of your face. That nurturing touch was the only semblance of comfort you had felt in these past few days. Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth..the truth that would reveal the fact that you weren’t doing well in the slightest. Curled into a fetal-like position, (y/n) bundled the blanket up to your face. Almost too ashamed and frightened to face her. Abashed by the fact you were behaving this way. Although it couldn’t be helped..not when every time you shut your eyes, you’d relive the horrors of that night. Toiling with it over and over, thinking of what you could’ve done differently. It seemed as if no matter what scenario you went through in your head, it seemed as if the result would be the same. There was nothing that you or anyone else could do..even so, it didn’t stop you from shouldering the blame. However, you wouldn’t be sulking for long if he had anything to do with it. As Robin continued to console you, barely garnering a whisper from you, you’d proceed to tell her that you were okay. Which she knew was a lie but it was better than mere tears..

“C’mon, rookie. Are you really going to stay here sulking? It’s sad..”

Suddenly, your pity fest was soon interrupted by the very familiar and irritating voice of the last person you were hoping to see. Not only would he undoubtedly make you feel worse but you most certainly didn’t want him seeing you in such a state. Although he never voiced it, you had the sneaking suspicion that he thought little of you. That perhaps he bet on the fact that you’d one day succumb to the harsh conditions of this job and wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe you were proving him right. You’d feel the bed shift as Robin stood to her feet; only bending down to place a gentle kiss on your temple, telling you that she loved you and would see you later once she returned from her expedition. She’d also take Ace’s appearance as her cue to leave. She felt safe leaving you in his care. Today and any other day..

“..go away, Ace. I’m not in the mood..”

cradling the blanket into your fist, you’d slowly turn back over and avoid facing him. The last thing you wanted to be vexed with was his nonsense. But he wasn’t here to pick a fight or even argue with you. He was used to your anger, used to that foul mouth and bad attitude. What he couldn’t stomach the thought of was you being upset. Kneeling near the side of the bed, he’d press a hand to your covered hip and try to get a peak at your face. Hoping that he’d be able to soften you up. Although it’d be no easy task..that much he was aware of. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from trying his best to make you feel better.

“Yeah..I figured you’d say that.” releasing a heavy sigh, your superior would then rise back to his original posture, before doing something quite unexpected. Suddenly, you’d feel the weight of the bed shift drastically before you were greeted with the sight of him lying next to you! That same obnoxious smirk and deep tone that normally made your skin crawl. Without so much as a warning, he’d peel those covers back from you and reveal your gaze as well. “What are you?--” “There she is..that pretty face. Y’know, crying really doesn’t suit you. Neither does acting like a big ass baby.” As per usual, you wouldn’t get away unscathed without him taking jabs. But this was exactly what you needed. Someone to bring you back to reality! If anyone understood the gravity of the situation you were grappling with and how difficult it was, Ace was the one. He’d seen many tragedies since his time as a firefighter. From car accidents, crime scenes and horrible fires that had destroyed families in a matter of minutes. He had a sort of immunity to it and didn’t let many things phase him for his own mental state. That silly facade was his own coping mechanism. Otherwise, he’d be knee deep in a bottle again and that wasn’t a place he wanted to go back to. But even he could empathize with you on this. It was a brutal scene..one of the worst any of you had ever encountered..it was difficult but you were definitely taking it harder than anyone else.

“And what the hell would you know? Huh? Everything is always a joke to you. They died right in front of me..right in front of me, Ace and I couldn’t do shit!..Do you have any idea what that feels like?!” Just then, your voice would ascend into a higher pitch and you’d become hysterical. You’d become livid..just one of the many emotions you were experiencing. How dare he speak to you as if you were some petulant child throwing a fit? This wasn’t some small mistake you all could laugh off..a mere teaching moment. A family was broken apart at the seams, a mother burying their kids and a cowardly father who took his own life to avoid the consequences. And the only thing that you could do was stand there and watch the flames engulf them. See two innocent babies become swallowed after the support beams of their home fell in front of them. You’d try to run in and save them but were promptly held back by your fellow firefighters. You lacked the experience to tackle such a feat and the only thing your presence would’ve caused was another unfortunate casualty. You even sustained some injuries that hadn’t even hit you until after your adrenaline wore off. But none of that mattered..nothing compared to the pain of seeing two little kids yelling ‘help me’..only two feet away and there was nothing you could do to help them. Your other two teammates rushed in, barely escaping with their lives to assist them instead but by that time, smoke inhalation was what ultimately caused their demise.

“Who does that to their own kids?! What type of fucking monster would burn them up because he was mad at their mom?! Why couldn’t I help them, Ace? Why didn’t you let me?! Do you really hate me that fucking bad!—“

By this point, you were more than lively. A bit more than he anticipated and before he knew it, you were screaming, sobbing and slamming your fists into his chest. He expected this..hell, he blamed himself. As soon as he got the call, he should’ve told you to stay behind. But shielding you only would’ve felt like a slap in the face and he was doing you no favors by sugarcoating the severity of this job.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you too!” suddenly, you’d feel your wrists clutched in his grasp and him holding you close. But you’d also notice the welling tears brimming in his eyes. A true first! This was the very man you’d always catch with that stupid smug grin on his face and laughing. Yet here he was..mirroring your sentiment. He’d then try to feign them off and look away over his own shoulder. Trying not to let you see him in that state. “Damnit, rookie!..you think I did that to spite you? All of this, the whole situation fucking sucks and if there were anything I could do differently, I would. I failed, okay? As your superior and a firefighter..and I have to live with that. I have to face the consequences of my decisions but I couldn’t take it if something would’ve happened to you. I–...” it was only a matter of time before he crumbled and it was seconds later that you’d watch the once strong and upbeat chief fall apart. “I’m sorry, (y/n)..” but alas, his tears and apology didn’t sway your resolve. You were angry with him! Angry that he was yet again protecting you. Now face to face, the two of you sat there..only inches apart. His hand cradling your own and you refusing to let go. This was by far the most vulnerable that you had ever seen him and in a way, it almost made you feel sorry for him but you had to let him know exactly how you felt. Leaning forward, you’d move as if you were trying to kiss him but instead, went for a slap. Bringing him out of his self sulking trance.

“What the hell?!--” “If you’re really sorry, then stop treating me like a goddamned baby! Ace, this job means everything to me. I didn’t become a firefighter to sit on the sidelines and watch people die. And it seems like as of late, all you’ve done is try to coddle and try to shield me from it. I don’t get it..do you really think I’m that useless? How the hell do you think I feel? Everybody thinks I’m incompetent because of you. No matter what I say, I can never look that mom in the eyes and tell her how sorry I am. That I did the best I could because I didn’t. You took that from me, Ace..why do you insist on smothering me?!” and you wouldn’t believe him even if he told you the reason. It’d probably only make you even more irritable. But hell, now was as good of time as any to confess what was on his heart.

“..any man would want to protect the woman he loves, wouldn’t he?” You were still amid your rambling when the words seeped from his mouth. Just as flatly as any other phrase he had uttered before. Almost as if he were afraid to admit it but it was true..every bit of it. He had fallen for you over this past year or so and there was no way of denying it. All of his domineering overbearance was due to this blossoming crush..this deep seeded passion that had sprouted into pure adoration. “Fuck’s sake..swear you drive me crazy, rookie. Can’t believe I’m even telling you this..” That’s when he’d burst into laughter, now swiping the tears away from his puffy, dark eyes. There it was. That’s why he was acting this way..he didn’t want to tell you in fear of pushing you away or even be accused of showing favoritism just because you were a woman. He never once doubted or even questioned your skills. But his feelings? They had grown far stronger than he was ready to accept. He knew you could handle it but in that moment, his natural instinct was to grab you. Even at the expense of your own mental health and pride. Even if it meant you’d hate him for it. Hold you close and never let go..because he didn’t want his last memory of you to be walking to your death. Honestly, he wasn’t being entirely truthful because he knew it’d only make you feel worse but there was nothing that any of you could do. Even the most trained and skilled first responder would not have been able to change the outcome of this tragedy. You all went in and risked your lives for these children but it was to no avail. One step closer and it would’ve been a suicide mission.

“I know it’s selfish and honestly, you have every right to resent me for it but I can’t help myself. You’re a hell of a firefighter, I’ve said that a million times but you’re also the girl I can’t stop thinking about. The one I just want to keep safe and protect from it all but that’s not fair. I can’t ask you to hold back because of my sore feelings. You did everything right, rookie. This isn’t your burden to shoulder so stop sitting around here crying, worrying your friends. None of this is your fault, okay? Nobody blames you, not even that mother. She even came by the fire house to thank you for how quickly you rushed in to help her kids. I just..I can’t take knowing that you feel like this because of my fucking stupidity–”

Quite frankly, you’d heard enough of these pitiful excuses and half assed attempts at trying to do damage control. But most importantly, you couldn’t take anymore of this..no more of his heartfelt confession because then you’d be forced to confront your own emotions. The deep seeded truth that you loved him as well. After a year of intense, passionate hookups and going through arguably some of the worst scenarios together, you couldn’t help but to become close. Even if it went without the obvious mention. Amid his long winded rant, you’d gently cup his cheek into your palm before kissing his forehead and eventually, his lips.

“You’re right about one thing, you are very fucking stupid..”

Immediately sending the flustered chief into a pout. But it was obvious that he meant every word because his cheeks flushed red as he felt your touch. “You don’t mince words, do you?” “No, but I am thankful for you..even if you get on my fucking nerves.” To which he could only chuckle and place his head down. He wasn’t expecting some picture perfect, Hallmark moment with you. That was for certain but you were still just as crass as ever! Reaching over, you’d take his hand and gently caress his knuckles with your thumb pad. “Listen, Ace..I feel the same way you do. As bad as I didn’t want to admit it. Hell, I’d tell myself I was just being delusional but the truth is, you do make me happy..” he couldn’t ask for much more than that, honestly! He was expecting you to be utterly repulsed by his words and here you were saying exactly what he was hoping for. On the contrary though, there was still a tiny bit that he was missing.

“Still..love isn’t supposed to be suffocating or overbearing. I can’t ever grow or learn if you don’t let me. I don’t want to just be ‘the girl you love’, I wanna be your equal…I want you to acknowledge me as a capable firefighter. I don’t want to be coddled and held back. I don’t ever want to feel what I have been for these past few days ever again. I don’t think I can take it..” finally, you’d lean in and cup his cheek; flustered a bright red by your heartfelt words. “I learned from the best, didn’t I? So I think I deserve to prove it.” What more could he possibly say? You were so precious to not only him but everyone at Company Eight. You all were family and losses were never easy, especially when they were so young but you all should have been proud. Proud that they realized your weakness and held you back for your own safety. Proud that you all had done everything you could to rescue those children, even if the result wasn’t what you all hoped and proud that you were still standing here..as a vice chief and fellow friend, he was so grateful for each of you and as much as he wanted to internalize that burden as well, he did none of you any favors by pouting or feeling sorry for himself. The only thing any of you could do now was move forward and keep getting better. Keep training and learn from your mistakes. And if he wanted his team to continue to grow, he couldn’t allow his own fears and bias to cloud his judgment. Otherwise those feelings would swallow him whole and the only thing he’d do is push you away.

“You really are something else, rookie…I swear you make me want to be better than I was the day before..it’s crazy. But I promise I’ll become a chief worthy of your respect. I won’t ever hold you back ever again.”

For now though, he just wanted to be one with you. Be in this moment with you and not let go. To immerse himself in your skin, to touch you and know that he still had you by his side. “I love you, Ace..” tenderly reassuring him as the gap of distance slowly closed between the two of you. A gentle hand cradling his face and his tugging at your hip. There was no greater feeling in the world than this.

“Say that again, baby..tell me one more time.” By now, he had laid you back flat to the mattress and his lips honed in on your neck, suckling and slowly kissing your flesh. Around your earlobe and even your collarbone. You’d utter the words once more and like a wave of fresh water, you’d allow him to drown you in his affection. Giving you the comfort and warmth you so desperately needed. The kind you had been craving. The kind that only he could give you!

“Can you tell me it’s mine?..please?..”

“You sure are demanding today..”

in only a matter of moments, you’d find yourselves entangled in a passionate bliss. His arms wrapped around you and your hands scaled the curvature of his back. This was nice..the only thought that could cross your mind. A simple one but true nonetheless. This familiarity..the comfort of knowing, feeling something that you were used to was nice. A feeling you no longer wanted to fight..you wanted to give in, submit and let the overwhelming emotions swaddle you. Safety, affection, genuine care..they all felt so foreign until you met him. Despite the fighting, anger and resentment. They were the only false feelings you harbored. No matter how far you tried to push him away, he’d only find himself falling deeper.

“Yeah, but at least you’re smiling now so it's fine..” chuckling gently against your lips, causing a faint vibration as he brushed the side of your face. Right now, nothing else mattered. He wasn’t leaving this room until your mind was out of that dark, dreary place. And he knew just how to do the trick. Soon, you’d feel his tongue snake from his mouth and make a beeline from the starting point of your jugular, not letting up until he reached your belly button; pausing only briefly to rid you of the t-shirt that you had been sporting. Immediately sensing the tension in your body resolving by the second. Ace honed in on your very sensitive and erect nipples that seemed to draw forth and elicit the most lively reaction from you. Feeling you tremble, hearing those light huffs…it was all he needed. He'd then lean up to check on his beloved. Adorning your temple with a soft kiss..

“..can I make you feel better?”

and without hesitation..frazzled and with labored breathing, you’d nod your head and whimper. “Y-yes, please..”

from there, he knew exactly what needed to be done. From that point forward, he was at your mercy..in complete and total submission to bring you pleasure. To ensure that you were shrouded in nothing more than bliss. No pain, no tears..he missed that beautiful smile more than anything so he wouldn’t stop until it appeared again. Seconds later, you’d find your leg draped across his shoulder as he made haste in shuffling around to position himself flat on his stomach. It was then that your thighs would become parted and he’d expose your aroused core. Already dampened with warm slick from his previous teasing, he’d run a single finger down the center of your slit..brushing the pad over the surface of your swollen bud. With the liner of your panties still entangled around his digits, he’d keep the shield pulled back as he delved in to enjoy the scent and flavor of your essence. It was divine..just as amazing as always. He didn’t say a word..merely began to muffle his brims around your puffy lips. At this point, pure actions were the only atonement for his behavior. His failure as not only a leader but a lover as well. He hadn’t attended to your needs in any capacity and now, he was going to make it right.

“Ace…”

the words barely escaping above a decibel but he’d merely remain steadfast in his motions. Slowly and delicately tending to your folds. Running his tongue throughout the center of that sweet spot. His head burrowed deep between quaking flesh. Now wasn’t the time for snarky commentary or sarcastic retorts. He was going to prove that every bit of what he said was true. Without so much as a phrase uttered between the two of you, he’d give you the indication to keep grinding yourself against his mouth. Use him to your full advantage and derive all the pleasure you could from him. Ride out your orgasms and let him take away every ounce of your stress..right now, that was his only duty. Grasping for your hands, he’d keep you in place as you rolled and bucked those hips forward, nearly coming forth from the mattress. “Are you okay, baby? Tell me how you feel right now..” but if the faint ring of arousal around his lips and the way you were shaking was any indication, he had to guess that you were feeling pretty damn good! “I—so good..” that was the only thing he wanted to hear. To hear that you were okay. That you were feeling something..that you weren’t entirely numb.

“Thank goodness..here..” he didn’t want you to reach a climax just yet. That was something he wanted the two of you to achieve together. He truly wanted you to be one..

“Look at me..look me in my eyes, right now..” almost subconsciously, your head shifted to perfectly align with his own. Faces only mere inches apart as he bridged the space with slow, soft pecks. Ones that would undoubtedly leave you yearning for more once they concluded. But he wouldn’t dare to pause..dare put a stop to this sensual moment. Your energy meshed with his, your bodies so close and skin pressed directly atop one another’s…there wasn’t a single place he’d rather be than right here. This was more than just sex..a meager compensation for his shortcomings but rather, the birth of a new dynamic. Hoping to leave behind the days of trivial arguments and childish antics..he wanted to scream it from the rooftops that he belonged to you. No more the days of being immature to one another. From here on out, he wanted honest, effective communication. To be real with you in every aspect. To learn about you so that he could be attentive and love you even when it was impossible for you to do so on your own. In your weakest moments, on your bad days and roughest storms, he could be that brave protector you always needed.

“Hold my hands, baby. I’m right here, I promise…” you were barely speaking; eyes soaked and brimming with tears because you’d waited so long to feel this. For someone to come and take your worries away..

“Please..I need it. So bad..”

he dare not deny your request as he hastily removed those sweats, discarding them onto the floor, along with the pair of panties he glided down your calf until hit your foot..your body itself was more than a pleasure vessel. More than just the anatomy itself. Your breasts, your thighs, your center..it was more than that. This was home. Where he’d always come to find solace when he needed it most. Where he’d always return..so when he’d ease himself into you, one inch following the other..breathless moans ensued right behind it. The sensation of being sucked in and never wanting to let go. This is what true love making felt like. Eventually, you’d rope each of your limbs around his frame, coiling him in a tight embrace; mirroring the feeling of your insides around his shaft. Try as he might to push through, Ace was barely making headway..you were so tense still..almost as if you didn’t trust him. He’d heard your sentiments. The ‘I love you’ returned so sweetly but part of you still had reservations. Many nights had you given him your body, willingly without thought. Not searching for a thing other than menial pleasure..and he’d accepted! Selfishly taking you for his own needs and desires but could trust him with your heart? Could you trust him to hold something so fragile and protect it with his life? Would he truly love you the way you deserved?…

“..I’m sorry..”

just then, you’d hear him uttering in a shrill whimper. The warm dampness of his tears soaking your shoulder blades. He was crying!..for the first time ever, he had let go of all borders and barriers. He removed and shed all doubt he’d felt with other women. He was vulnerable..

“I’m so sorry, (y/n)..I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Still easing in and out. That member pushed through the sponge-like bundle of nerves as his words rolled off his quivering lips. Nipping at your earlobe with gentle kisses that sent chills coursing through your spine. He was so remorseful for allowing you to sit here in despair. What type of man was he? “But I’m here now…I’m here now and I promise I’ll never leave you again. You have my word, baby. I love you so much, (y/n)..”

He couldn’t change his past but he could atone right here and now..making a vow to not only you but himself. That he’d never desert you in your time of need..both entrapped in a bout of hysterics, you’d sob quietly whilst your bodies collided in a fit of bliss. The lewd movements became a mere afterthought. You were connected and ascending on a higher plane at the moment and nothing could take you down. “I..I forgive you…I love you too..please..don’t leave me.” Somewhere behind that tough exterior was that frightened girl..once too afraid after being harmed by so many, to confront this scary world was making her reappearance. She was no longer alone. She had friends, amazing coworkers and now? A man who adored her more than life itself. He’d instantly feel those constricting walls loosen at the mention of the apology and now he was swollen and pushing through. The bed would rock underneath your colliding frames and before long, those inevitable peaks drew near.

“So close, baby..just a little more.”

“Don’t stop..”

but he could hold out no longer and neither could you. The intense emotions proved to be too much and you’d succumb to those powerful feelings. The wave of climatic bliss washing over you both in only a few minutes of beginning. That sensitive core gushed with secretions and juices alike, signifying that you couldn’t hold back. And he wouldn’t make you.

“Let it out..there you go. I’m so proud of you, (y/n). That’s my girl..”

Coaching you through that orgasm before he even thought of reaching his own. You’d both release loud cries and tear filled pleas to follow. He’d hold you close and you’d cling to his skin as if you were mere seconds from crawling in. Reveling in the beautiful moment revered as afterglow. It was magical..a type of love that you wanted to experience until the end of time..

“And I’m yours. All yours..I belong to you.”

pain was a temporary sensation, meant to only last for a season. But love? It remained for a lifetime. And much like the flames of a burning fire, sparked from an ember, he’d fight through anything to ensure that what you had lasted. After the blaze was put out and the smoke cleared, no matter the circumstances or storm..he’d be right here. Forever and always!

@honeybleed 🫶🏾

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punkascas · 3 months

Text

okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

#ofmd critical #ptsd problems

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pendarling · 10 months

Text

In The Rain

Thx for 1k+! This is a lot longer than anything I've ever written. This piece is specifically dedicated to June's Men's Mental Health Awareness Month

It had been a long day after work.

Hero didn't like that just being a hero didn't fulfill the requirements for getting paid enough to do their bills. It was annoying, yes, but after a hard day at work and finally finishing their taxes, Hero decided to reward themselves with something to eat.

Although it was raining outside, the curry stand in the neighbourhood was one of the best. They've been craving it all week.

Hero sat at the end of the table on a stool. A small shabby canopy spread above them, hiding them from the pelting bolts of the rain.

"Thank you." Hero took the plate of rice and lamb curry, their favourite. The teen behind the stand smiled at them and left to continue working on their homework at the back.

With cold hands, Hero picked up the spoon and immediately savoured the taste of the curry. It was an intoxicating flavour they couldn't get out of their head.

Within minutes they found themselves enjoying their time.

"Alone, Hero?" A cool whisper came from behind them. Hero froze in their spot, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Villain…" they whispered back.

Villain sat on the stool next to them, eyeing their face and enjoying their reaction.

"I'm impressed you know who I am. I thought I'd have to identify myself to you." They gave a crooked smirk; their clothes were covered in drops of water.

They weren't sure how the other found them. Though they always knew they were strategic when they made their moves. It shouldn't have surprised them the way it did when Hero locked eyes with their worse nemesis in the most unexpected of places. Yet, it did.

Villain tapped their knuckles onto the table. "Hey, let me have whatever they're having." Villain gestured in their direction. An older gentleman behind the counter glanced over and gave a curt nod.

Hero swallowed timidly. They weren't sure what Villain planned to do with them. Honestly, it should be evident that they were at risk as soon as they decided to become a hero. Hero regretted not bringing a weapon. It seemed after weeks of hard labour, they didn't consider themselves more than their weighing bills.

They hesitantly looked at Villain.

And they stared back.

Their eyes shot down to their plate. Their appetite slowly disappeared for fear of getting attacked.

"So, where have you been, Hero?" They heard the stool beside them creak and sensed them lean in.

Hero considered playing dumb and pretend they had mistaken them for someone else, but quickly shut that idea down when they realized they already said Villain's name earlier.

"Look, I don't want to fight here." They shakingly whispered, "If you want to take this somewhere else, that's fine. Just not here."

Villain chuckled, the sound of thunder seemingly echoing the laughter. For some reason, at that moment, Hero felt more fear for Villain than any storm.

Large waves of hot smoke seeped out from the food stand. It clashed with the frigid air, and usually, it was a lovely atmosphere, but today they feared associating a time like this with their encounter with Villain.

A plate set in front of Villain, they averted their attention to the server. "Oh, and uh… I'll take their bill too." Villain gave Hero a quick pat on the shoulder and slid the server a bill.

"I don't owe you anything." Hero spoke.

They shrugged, unconcerned, "I didn't do that because I want a favour. I only did that to show you I mean no harm, really."

Hero doubted it. Villain picked up the spoon and dipped it into the curry hesitantly. "What is this stuff anyway?" They smelled it lightly. Hero felt amused at their findings, and the look of confusion from Villain had reminded them that even their worse enemy was still a human in some aspects.

Hero pushed their rice to one side. Villain curiously peeked over at them as they began scooping the rice and curry into a piece of naan bread. Hero picked it up with their hand and ate it calmly, still trying to devise a plan to evade Villain.

"What are you doing?" Villain asked.

Hero let the taste simmer in their mouth for a moment before replying. "Eating. What do you want me to do?"

"With your hands?"

"You don't have to use your hands."

Villain looked down at their plate and lifted the flatbread. They tore a piece from the corner and bit into it.

Hero signalled their eyes down at the curry and back up again. Villain picked up their spoon and ate the curry. They took a few seconds to evaluate what they were eating.

"Well?" Hero waited.

"It's not bad."

They sat together, eating until the rain lightened up. By the time they were finished, Hero could still smell the spices on their fingers no matter how often they wiped it off.

Villain turned to them. "Alright, let's go" They stood up, and Hero saw them pat at their pocket. It was likely some weapon they kept on themselves. They didn't take Villain as someone who'd hurt them, but the eerie deliverance of their words was unsettling enough to get them to follow Villain.

They strolled toward a dark, sleet car parked beside the busy road up ahead. The clouds were just about dispersing, and as far as Hero could tell, it was late into the evening.

Villain opened the passenger side door, an arm blocking them from behind. Probably to prevent them from running away, although they didn't have the energy to do all that after eating so much. They tilted their head, and Hero took that as a command to get inside.

From the passenger side compartment, Villain removed a pair of handcuffs.

"Are you serious?" Hero wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry," they opened the cuffs, "hold out your hand for me."

They scoffed but did so accordingly. They lifted their right hand. The cuffs locked their wrist loosely with a small click, and the other side clipped onto the side of the chair. "This is ridiculous."

Villain shut the door and walked to the other side. They slammed their side shut and turned the engine on. "No seatbelt?"

They looked over at them. Hero shook their wrist with the cuff.

"Right." They sheepishly laughed and moved across them to fix their belt. Hero sunk in deeper into their seat to avoid contact. Their face lit up brightly at the proximity.

Cinnamon.

Villain smelled of cinnamon. Despite sitting at a curry shop for an hour and a half with them, despite the overwhelming spices and despite the sweet rain surrounding them, Villain smelt like cinnamon. Hero's hands stilled when they felt them slightly brush against their own.

"Is that alright?"

"Uh…"

Hero struggled for words. They had never noticed Villain looked so different without their mask. After all, they'd never been this close. Hero never felt the need to get personal with Villain. Their features threw them off, and for a second, they felt embarrassed for acting as they did at the stand. They instantly regretted all their snappy comebacks and swallowed.

Why were they still so close? Didn't they know they didn't want them to hear how hard their heart was pounding? Had Villain always looked this good, or were they just confused?

They nodded frantically.

…

It might've been the time or the food, but whatever it was made them sleepy. It had to be late into the night, but Villain kept driving, on and on and on… Through endless stretches of road.

"Where are you taking me?" They finally said.

"You'll see when we get there."

That wasn't much of an answer. They sighed deeply and stared at the dark sky with beads of colourful lights around the city and car headlights.

"Anyway," Villain tapped on the steering wheel, "where have you been? Haven't seen you out fighting crime, never mind the newspaper."

Was this what it was about?

"It's nothing."

"Yeah, right, like you can get me to believe it's nothing."

Hero looked down at their knees. They didn't know. They didn't have an answer.

Yes, they've been working, but they lost the thrill of being a hero a long time ago, and part of them convinced themselves they were never interested in returning.

There did exist a time when they had fun doing the protecting, but that excitement… died.

That, of course, wouldn't be an acceptable answer for Villain.

"What did you do? Stay at home? Or…" they continued.

They did stay at home. It was less mentally straining than whatever the public was getting them to do.

"How about… you tell me where we're headed, and I tell you where I've been."

That seemed fair. The only problem was they still hadn't found an excuse elaborate enough to hide their days of mind-numbing boredom and emptiness.

Villain came to a red light and faced them, "Okay. I'm… don't get scared, but I'm taking you to see my boss."

"Supervillain?"

They licked their teeth and glanced at the red light. The windshield wiped away at the small speckles of rain, blurring the window further. "Yes."

"… bullshit."

Villain's fingers tapped rhythmically on the wheel. "I don't know what else to tell you." The light turned green, and they continued driving.

"Do you think I'm some kind of idiot? Tell me where the hell you're taking me."

"I'm telling you the truth." Their eyes never left the street.

"Like a criminal would do that." They mumbled. The other gave them a look that shut them up. Hero leaned to the window and looked outside, their sleepiness returning.

They didn't like being trapped inside this car. They hated how the road looked so depressing and lonely.

This was just fantastic.

Exactly what they needed. Getting kidnapped and possibly killed for some stupid villainous act. Hero's leg anxiously jumped up and down, waiting for this mysterious location.

…

The moment their eyes opened again, they caught sight of a dim blue sky. It was still raining.

Hero rubbed their eyes.

Curry. It still smelled of curry; Hero felt homesick already. They didn't feel like going home, though, as there was nothing for them there, but it still gave them the anxiety to be out this long.

The jacket over their body slid off.

They didn't remember this. It didn't belong to them. Was this Villain's? Hero lifted it off their body and stared at the soft knitted edges and long sleeves. They didn't expect them to be considerate. They had thought they would only use them for intel later on when they got to meet their boss, but being cared for?

It made them blush. They pressed the jacket up to their nose and took a whiff of it shamelessly.

Cinnamon.

Their head became light.

Kidnapping wasn't supposed to be this much fun, but it was. Hero smiled warmly, their heart singing with excitement. Had they always been this nice? Was this something Villain did for everyone?

They slowly set down the jacket onto their lap. Yeah, it might've just been a moment of consideration; it was best not to look into it too deeply. Not a lot of people would consider Hero popular or a favourite among the crowd of other heroes. It was probably a thoughtless action that wasn't meant to feed into their fantasy.

Stupid.

The seat next to them was empty; Villain was no where to be found. Although the car sat running and kept them warm. The light rain from earlier still drizzled against the windows. Hero caught the sound of an argument.

Their eyes squinted as they looked around. Eventually, they saw Villain and a group of others through the rearview mirror. They stood in front of the well-lit gas station. Hero could hardly tell what they were saying through the rain, but only about a minute later did Villain turn around.

Should they fake sleep? Were they supposed to be up?

In their panic, Hero froze. Villain opened the car door and clamoured in. "Oh? Good morning." They whispered.

Hero thumbed the jacket. Their eyes were sorrowful for treating Villain negatively all the time when all they received were pardons. Hopefully, they would see the end of their bad behaviour; karma would hurt.

Perhaps this was just a decisive plan to guilt-trip them into following Villain obediently.

"You can hold on to my jacket, for now I won't need it."

Villain pulled out of the lot and back onto the road again.

It would be another long silence until they pulled up to a large building with a sign next to a line of other stores. Hero, confusingly, stared out at the place. It didn't look anything like a villain's lair.

"I don't think you answered my question," Villain turned the engine off.

"You're persistent."

"You're observant."

Hero held their ground and remained silent. Villain clicked their tongue when they realized Hero wouldn't give in yet. "I heard you quit."

It shouldn't have hurt when they heard that, but it did.

Hero loved their job. They never meant to leave the way they did, but it hurt to hear that speculation of them quitting had reached Villain.

Hero held onto tears. The last place they wanted to cry was in Villain's car out in God knows where.

"You know, I was hoping you would just talk with me. I didn't mean to kidnap you but uhh… I really didn't have any options."

The rain sounded outside a bright ray of light flickered across the sky. "I knew you lied to me." Their voice came out much more wavering than they wanted to. Hero still refused to make eye contact with their nemesis. They rubbed the palm of their hand against the tears streaking down their cheeks.

They took a moment to catch their breath though it was clear Hero was crying now. Their breathing was sharp as they tried to relax their nerves and take control futilely.

"You know it's pretty damn hard working 8-9 hours of shifts."

Villain let them speak and listened attentively.

"I waited all my damn life to- to- to what?" They whipped their head around to Villain, their face red and wrists flicking the air. "To what, Villain? I don't even know what I want!" They sniffled and leaned back into the seat. "And here I am, getting my life screwed over for little reward."

Hero lifted their sleeves to wipe at their face roughly.

Villain awkwardly waited; they never encountered someone crying before. Usually, someone else did the comforting. They weren't used to that, but it was worth trying.

They reached out and placed a hand on their shaking shoulder with some reserve. "Uhm… I don't know how to do this stuff, but I didn't mean to lie when I said I was taking you to my boss. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on. It's unusual for you to disappear for this long."

Hero looked up at them, their eyes still watery and adjusting to the dark setting. They could barely make out Villain's face, but their words were clear.

"I had thought… nobody would realize if I had just… stepped out of the picture." They licked their lips. "It seemed like no one wanted to care anymore." Hero choked on their sob, a pain held tight onto their throat.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, Hero." They moved their hair to the side. "I'm here, Hero. I care about you. You don't think I wouldn't have come if I didn't?"

"I don't know why I always feel… isolated."

"You shouldn't have to."

Hero smiled at them, ease blanketing over them at last. They weren't sure for how long they would stay this way until Villain asked, and to be fair, that's all they wanted to hear, even if it was just one person asking. That was enough, maybe even too generous of them, but that was just the afterthoughts talking.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#writing prompt #fluff prompt #hero x villain community #hero x villain #villain x civilian #pining prompts #light angst #angst dialogue #angst prompts #villainxhero #villain x hero #hurt/comfort

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zeb-z · 4 months

Text

jrwi riptide 115

So the elephant in the room. Grandberry traitor. It’s Caspian or John right? Those are the two we know, the two we are attached to, it’s not just gonna be random new recruit #7 out of the unnamed folks they’ve picked up. It’s not that one healer from Joaldo who joined them that I can’t remember his name right now.

John has made it clear since he revolted from the Navy that he’s kept up with the Grandberry pirates, that all he wants is to join them. That could be a flag. The fact that he was part of his own “special unit” or something along those lines before going outlaw. There’s the journal of his they found back at Zero that they never truly read through and tossed after reading the first poem, which might have had definite answers. And this is small, but he was really protective over keeping the pin from Jayson Ferin.

But the block throws a wrench in it, because why would they throw him in their highest security prison and let him freeze? Unless somehow John was sure without a shadow of a doubt they would have come back for him, and they weighed the risk and reward. The Ferin family drama could have thrown a wrench in their plans enough to have thrown away any plans on easier escape. It’s plausible, but it just is too much of a discrepancy. And John wears his heart on his sleeve, since episode zero he has, it’s hard to think of him as the traitor.

Then there’s Caspian, who has been with Lizzie since almost the beginning, from Shadowbeard’s crew. It’s where they met, and they both survived and escaped Shatter Skull massacre together. But that means he was there for the fall of Shadowbeard, and Ava Ferin’s death. And while it’s pretty much said by Lizzie she thinks it’s Ava who betrayed her, with everything else said, and with what Jay remembers and loves of her sister, it just doesn’t quite track. There was an ulterior motive to kill Ava in the same fight, ordered by someone higher up, playing into the propaganda and fear mongering against pirates and pro Raft agenda. And he knows Edyn Tidestrider, he was the one to reunite her and Gillion. He has her number. And she is gills deep in double-triple agent Raft bullshit.

But could he have been such a double agent all this time, since Shatter Skull? After all his blood sweat and tears, all the weight he’s lifted for Lizzie? All the Edyn stuff could easily be a coincidence, considering their Undersea connection. And he’s not quite heart on his sleeve honest as John has been, but he’s chill like that, he’s kindhearted and patient. And after everything, and I mean everything, he’s done - for Gillion especially - giving him his sword, reuniting him with his sister, daily phone calls, teaching him spells and moves, being the first friend especially from the undersea and reconnecting him with their culture - it’s so hard to think of him as the traitor.

There’s proof enough for both of them. But everything considered, with how undercover and long term the black book missions are, how even Jay had been a spy at one point - Caspian makes the most sense, doesn’t he.

#if it really is him I’m opening a real life hole in the real life sea and diving in headfirst #I’m just so miserable dude #caspian my favorite my light of my life this whole time I’ve been like man I miss caspian calls I miss caspian time #and John :( he’s just so good. too good. it really could be him to and that sucks so bad #but I’d rather him than caspian jfjskfkskfk after everything. like #he’s always over the top and cheery and hunting for the grandberry pirates. but caspian evidence is damning to me #anyways. I don’t know what to do now #caspian could be a traitor drey is fucking missing why are my faves always doomed by the narrative #jrwi #jrwi riptide #jrwi 115 #jrwi riptide 115 #jrwi spoilers #riptide spoilers #jrwi caspian #marshal john #z speaks

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dqzaiie · 5 months

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i’m still undecided in which agency member i believe will be transferred to the port mafia, but i would like to expand on the possibility of it being dazai, because concerns seem to be growing by the hour.

firstly, i would like to draw attention to these official arts, as i find it very curious that dazai is wearing his port mafia bandages in conjunction with his agency attire.

this isn’t an isolated instance, it seems, so i’m wondering what the reasoning for this is, if not to allude to future events. (apart from referencing his past in the port mafia, but i'm trying to see this from the other perspective.) it feels very intentional on harukawa's part.

there is also the case of potential foreshadowing in the osamu dazai and the dark era light novel.

“…dazai’s capabilities are astounding. i’m sure in four or five years, he’ll have killed me and taken my place.”

these are words spoken by mori to odasaku while he is recruiting him to locate ango, taking place when dazai was eighteen. if this were to be a correct prediction, then it would place him at around twenty-two or twenty-three at time he gained the status of leader.

if provided the opportunity, surely mori would retrieve such a valuable asset?

many dispute this due to mori forcing dazai out of the mafia, but the reasoning for that makes quite a bit of sense when you take into consideration mori’s values.

mori believes that, as leader of an organization, you must devote your very being to maintain stability.

“mori ougai’s belief as the boss is…“the boss stands on top of the organization, and at the same time, be the slave of all.” for the sake of the organization, the boss must always take the “logical optimal solution.” that is the duty of the boss. there is an unspoken additional point to it. therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings.”

asagiri for the bsd exhibition

despite being his protégé, it doesn’t seem that mori felt dazai to be the perfect fit for leader during his time in the port mafia. this is due to dazai being overly emotional.

mori was able to suppress his emotions, whereas dazai let his emotional responses dictate his actions. this is exemplified by him changing course in life after odasaku’s death, done so in the name of keeping a promise to his closest friend.

while mori certainly regrets losing his subordinate, he is able to set aside his own reservations toward the loss, the outcome of which results in him gaining a gifted business permit. this is the “optimal solution” he sought after. dazai, however, could never justify sacrificing oda for the sake of a permit, hence the feelings of betrayal he’s fostered towards mori in the years since. while he understands why mori did what he did, he cannot disregard his own emotional connection to odasaku.

in the present day, however, dazai seems to have developed this ability—to remove the emotional aspects from a situation, and choose the most logical course of action. this is seen throughout the most recent arcs. for example, possibly sacrificing himself in meursault, directing akutagawa to save atsushi at the risk of his own life, etc. weighing the risks and the rewards, and choosing the most viable option.

(even if mori doesn’t choose dazai, there's the possibility that dazai just might volunteer himself for the sake of his coworkers. his self-sacrificial tendencies have been quite prevalent as of late.)

while dazai wouldn’t have been a preferable candidate in the past, he has matured since, and mori has realized this, with him keeping dazai’s executive seat open in the event he wishes to return. actually, i think this was quite intentional on mori’s part—similarly to how dazai manages shin soukoku, mori likely forced this for dazai’s own development.

another detail worth noting is the way in which dazai’s eyes have been drawn in the more recent chapters. as we know, harukawa depicts a character’s progression and alignment through their eyes.

in the recent chapters, dazai has been portrayed with an obscured eye multiple times. this is indicative of his port mafia “demon prodigy” persona being utilized during the chess match against fyodor.

there is also the concern of dazai’s crimes being made public. as it stands, while the agency is sure to be absolved of all charges, dazai’s crimes are separate, which isn’t particularly an easy fix.

ango has done it in the past through the use of mushitaro’s ability, sure, but seeing as dazai has literally staged a prison break from supposedly the world’s most secure ability user detention facility, i’m not too certain that this would be an effective method of clearing his criminal record.

this doesn’t cover all of it, either. there is quite a bit of foreshadowing within the anime to support this theory, but i have reached the photo limit on this post, so i will leave that for others to cover.

if you’ve made it this far, i applaud you. thank you for reading!!!

#dazai osamu #osamu dazai #ougai mori #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai #bsd theory #armed detective agency #fyodor dostoevsky #oda sakunosuke #akutagawa ryuunosuke #atsushi nakajima #theory #analysis #character analysis #bsd analysis #please note that i don’t actually think it’ll be dazai who is transferred #i just figured it would be fun to expand on the theories that have been going around #also i've seen a few well-intentioned people receiving hate for having this opinion...so i wanted to show that their beliefs aren't baseles

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rfxiii · 8 months

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I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but can u do one where Trevor and reader r playing tennis and reader wins, and Trevor give reader a ‘reward’?

Luv ur work btw!

Trevor and the Reader Playing Tennis Together:

(Summary: Trevor invites the reader on a date, taking her to one of Los Santos’ many tennis courts. In an effort to raise the stakes, Trevor suggests a bet- whoever wins the match gets a prize)

[the readers pronouns weren’t specified so I went with a fem!reader but if that’s not what you wanted feel free to reach out and I’ll edit or re-write!]

*TW: Smut

(Word Count: 2087)

Outings with Trevor were always a whirlwind. He kept you on your toes even on a simple trip to the grocery store. So when you find yourself out late at night, on the tennis court, with Trevor dressed in those little athletic shorts that leave very little to the imagination, you’re not exactly surprised. He’d always been into things like hockey and golf, but seeing him bouncing on his toes across from you, holding his tennis racket as if it’s a weapon, was honestly a bit comical.

With a mischievous grin on his cracked, scarred lips, Trevor beckons you to join him for a match. And despite your vague reservations, knowing how competitive he can get, you agree- holding your own racket tightly as you prepare.

“What’s with the face, sugar? Ya afraid Uncle T is gonna beat ya?” Trevor taunts, appearing incredibly confident for a man who looks like he’s never played tennis in his life.

“Don’t get cocky, Trev! I may just surprise you.” you fire back, unwilling to let him under your skin before the match has even begun.

“Ooh! I like it when you’re feisty, angel. Ok! Let’s make things interesting, huh? How bout a wager? Winner gets to pick whatever prize they want.”

You consider momentarily. You’re no tennis pro, that’s for sure. But you feel confident enough that you can hold your own. But then again, you know Trevor well enough to be sure that if you lose there’s literally no limit of insanity to what he could request from you. You weigh the pros and cons, finally deciding that the look on his face if you managed to beat him would be well worth the risk.

“Ya know what? Bring it on, T!” you agree- confident grin on your lips as you spin your racket in a smug display.

The game begins quickly, and much to your dismay, Trevor displays an uncanny knack for tennis. His manic demeanor seems to transform into pure energy as he focuses on the game, delivering violent serves and aggressive spins. You find yourself struggling to keep up, but the thought of losing to him quickly turns your surprise into heated determination.

With each volley, you find yourselves laughing, shouting at each other, and exchanging playful, yet heated, taunts. And as the sets go on, you begin finding your rhythm after a clumsy beginning, putting up a determined fight against Trevor's unconventional yet shockingly effective playing. He’s still doing incredibly well, but you’re keeping up. And you’ll be damned if you lose to him. The thought of his victory request is far from your mind now as your only fear is having to face his smug, taunting grin if he wins.

You swing your racket hard, and Trevor lunges, his quick attempt to return the shot falling just short as the ball hits the ground, and your victory is solidified with your triumphant cheers and maybe a bit of heckling that you’re not exactly proud of.

“God! Fuck! Fuck! Come on!” Trevor growls, tossing his racket into the ground as he stomps like a raging toddler- he’d never handled losing well. But, just like his moods usually do, his anger quickly changes as he gives you a smarmy grin and waltzes across the court to pull you into a handsy embrace.

He’s damp with musky sweat, and you can still feel his heart pounding beneath his ribs from where his chest is pressed flush with yours. His full, chapped lips are parted in heavy gasps, his thinning hair is stuck to his head in a slick sheen of sweat, and there’s just something about his body heaving from exertion that’s pulling in all of your attention.

“Well, sugar-.. Fair is fuckin’ fair, I guess. So, go on. Do your worst! Whaddaya want?” Trevor pries, dropping a bit of his weight into your arms and looking at you with those chocolate brown puppy dog eyes full of mischief. He’s always been able to sense your want, and you damn him for that, because before your request even leaves your lips he’s already sporting a lecherous grin on his taunting face.

“Wipe that smile off your lips, Trev. You lost. So now you’re gonna be a good boy and put that dirty mouth to good use. I’m tired of hearing you talk.” you huff out- anxious and a bit unfamiliar with taking the dominant role. But the low growl he lets out and the way his filthy, calloused hands slide down your body and under your little tennis skirt is enough to let you know he’s going to enjoy this just as much, if not more, than you do.

His rough touch drags up your thigh, his split nails scratching up the delicate flesh until his fingers press against the thin fabric of your underwear. They prod and rub roughly without much finesse but with enough eager energy to more than compensate for his lack of tenderness. You choke on a breathy gasp, fingers flying up to grip at his shoulder and tug him closer- your forehead dropping to his chest where you hear his ragged breath and low moans.

“Yeah? You like that, sugar?” Trevor chuckles, the low rasp of his voice sending sparks straight between your thighs.

A soft whimper ghosts past your lips, head tilting up to gaze at him with desperate eyes, “Trevor.. Wait.. Someone could see..”

“It’s late. Nobody is gonna be out here. Unless…ya want me to stop? The prize is time sensitive though, darlin’. So, I’d think quick.” Trevor challenges, his fingers working fast, firm circles against you in a taunting rhythm.

It’s hard to think, let alone argue, when he touches you like this. And he knows he’s won before you’ve even had a chance to speak up, “N-no.. Trevor.. I-.. Don’t stop..” you find yourself whining. And the awful, twisted smile splitting his lips shows his enjoyment clearly on his face.

“That’s what I thought. Now be good, and let old Trevor take care of ya. Huh, angel face?” he goads, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear to press against your needy clit.

Your legs nearly buckle beneath you, a hand digging tightly into Trevor’s bicep while the other tangles fingers in the thicker hair at the back of his head. The high, whimpery moan that escapes your lips has him grinning. And as he works his gnarled fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness that he’s caused there, he lets out a groan nearly as desperate as yours, “Oooh fuck, baby.. You’re fuckin’ dripping.. If I had known how bad you fuckin’ wanted it, we’d have stayed the fuck home tonight.”

Your hips grind fitfully against his hand, craving the friction those vile fingers of his provide. He easily senses your desperation, leaning down to nip and suck at your throat while his slick tongue traces against the grooves he’s bitten into your neck like a twisted apology to soothe the sting. Your needy reactions have him working harder, paying pointed attention to your damp clit, and focusing on each flex of his fingers that makes you cry out the loudest.

“Trevor.. Trevor! Please.. I’m so close! Please, more?” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes as you waver right on the cusp of blissful completion. Thankfully he’s always been just as needy as you. And tonight he has no intentions of teasing you by denying what you both need.

“Turn around.” Trevor orders, not giving you the chance to move on your own as he spins you roughly around, forcing you to grip the chain link fence bordering the tennis court to keep your balance. He presses into you from behind, grinding himself against you while the fabric of those little shorts do next to nothing to restrain his hard cock prodding at your ass beneath your skirt, “You feel how fuckin’ bad I want ya, sugar? Fuck! You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

He’s always so needy for you and it never fails to make you feral. You press back against him, grinding your ass into his growing bulge until he quickly becomes tired of the teasing foreplay, ripping your panties down your thighs and pinning you so far forward your face nearly presses into the chain link, “Fuckin’ teasing me all night with that little skirt, running your mouth, tellin’ me what to do.. Fuuuck! You know I love it. Let Uncle T give ya your reward now, sugar.”

“Please.. Please.. Trevor, please.” you gasp out like a prayer, gazing over your shoulder with fingers trembling where they grip like a lifeline to the chain link.

His movements are frantic and aggressive while he tugs his little shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free. He’s so hard it almost looks painful for him with his tip flushed violent red and steadily leaking pre-cum. He spits thickly into his palm, stroking himself a few, rough times- not that he needs the extra lubrication, as you feel your own arousal close to dripping down your inner thighs. Trevor’s rugged, scarred hand grips your hip while the other remains on his cock, lining himself up with your soaked, nearly aching cunt before he presses a kiss to the back of your neck in a bastardized version of gentle intimacy, “That's it, baby.. Lemme show ya just how good you did tonight..”

He presses forward in one harsh snap of his hips, hitting you deep inside in that one spot he’s memorized you loving. You practically sob for him, clinging to the fence and struggling to rock your hips in time with his frantic, disarranged rhythm. His hand rears back suddenly, delivering a firm slap to the smooth, delicate skin of your ass and pulling a shocked, euphoric cry from your lips. You’re trembling and he has no intentions of slowing his manic, disorienting pace. And when his harsh, careless fingers assault your clit you feel yourself nearing your end.

“Trevor! Oh fuck, Trevor! Don’t stop! Please! I- I’m so close! Fuck! Fuck!” you babble out, unable to restrain your loud tone as you’ve long since shed your fear of being caught in public like this- the pleasure clouding your mind as your previous reservations melt away.

“Oh fuck yes! You’re so fuckin’ perfect! Oh god! That’s it, sugar! Take it!” Trevor growls, hips driving mercilessly into you and fingers working you over so well he has you on the verge of tears. You feel him twitching inside you, his moans growing louder and desperate as you both feel yourselves nearing your end.

Your chin drops to your chest, your head hanging limp in pleasure with your legs trembling so terribly it’s close to impossible to stand, “Trevor! I’m- I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop! Please! Please! Ooh god, Trev! You feel so fucking good!” you plead- the praise only spurring him on with his hips snapping against you so viciously it’s sure to leave you bruised.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck! I love you, I love you-“ Trevor rambles, a telltale sign he’s close to his own end. And when his grip tightens almost painfully against your hip, and his fingers pace against your clit becomes stiff and rhythmless you both reach your peak with sharp and sudden explosions of euphoria, “AUGH! FUCK! I LOVE YOU! FUCK!” he shouts, his release ruining your insides as you cum around him- your slick, combined fluids trailing down your thighs as his pace begins to slow.

“Trevor… Oh my god.. Fuck.. You’re..fucking amazing..” you gasp with legs trembling and heart pounding in your chest.

He pulls out with a weak, pathetic whimper, wrapping his arms around you and pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sweaty throat, “Goddamn, sugar.. That was fuckin’-.. Wow. Competition really does bring out the best in ya, don’t it?” he teases while readjusting himself and pulling up his shorts.

You bite back a groan at the dampness between your sore thighs, pulling up your panties and straightening your skirt while fighting back a grimace as his cooling cum soaks the fabric, “Ya know what, T?” you giggle softly, pulling him into a teasing embrace with arms looped around his neck, “Maybe we should wager like this more often. I think I kinda like the rewards you give.”

A smirk twists his scarred lips as he leans down and pulls you into a wet, despicable kiss that promises that this night is far from over, “Sugar, I like the way you think.”

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #requests

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merakiui · 7 months

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danganronpa x twst on my mind,,,,

idia as the mastermind. it's one of those things you wouldn't expect because he's a bit of a,,, loser. no one thinks he's capable of doing anything because he's just so anxious and awkward. ortho as monokuma is also a funny thing to picture, but it kind of makes sense???? ortho tells everyone to do their best!!! peace and love!!! he's rooting for all of the nrc students!! do your best!! :D his optimism is so eerie amidst the morbid reality of a killing game.

azul who murders someone in cold blood, proceeds to get caught up in his web of lies and is therefore exposed at the trial, and he has such an explosive, angry breakdown. it's the first time anyone has ever seen his carefully crafted businessman façade crack. he's normally so eloquent and polite, but now he's screaming and crying and gripping the stand so hard that the wood is splintering. very scary tako... >_<

jade who remains eerily calm throughout the trial, even when he's revealed to be the blackened. he just keeps smiling so calmly, seemingly unfazed, but the veneer does falter slightly when he has to part with floyd. :( floyd's in shambles following his execution and he makes it his mission to protect you even more so he won't lose you, too. but then i also feel like jade wouldn't kill anyone???? he picks and chooses his battles, weighs the risk-reward ratio, and he ranks everyone in his mind by level of threat. on one hand it's fun to imagine he gets away with the perfect murder (or he doesn't), but on the other he's smart and cutthroat enough to survive without getting killed or doing any killing. azul's similar in this regard, but i just want tako to have his meltdown. >:) ultimate businessman? more like the ultimate crybaby.

jamil would kill kalim, but that would be much too easy and he'd be a prime suspect in the investigation. he probably goes after someone completely unrelated to him. someone like cater maybe. he catches him when he least suspects it. he's good at remaining composed under pressure, but in the end it's kalim who unintentionally rats him out. T_T kalim is heartbroken and actually suggests he be executed in jamil's place, but everyone else thinks he's absolutely insane (and much too selfless). jamil's more angry that it was kalim who, even when he's at the end of his life, managed to overshadow him yet again.

silver survives solely because he keeps falling asleep and he's been mistaken for dead one too many times now. likewise, i think the rest of the survivors would be riddle (even in a killing game, he beats azul lol), leona, jack, floyd, rook, malleus, and lilia. although truthfully anyone could be swapped out in this list. nrc students are resilient and ruthless when they need to be, so anyone could qualify for the survivors list. it's just a matter of how desperate they are to do so and how mentally strong and patient they can be as the killing game wears on.

#meraki mumbles

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grison-in-space · 18 days

Note

Is it fundamentally unethical for people to eat publicly indoors, since they can't wear a mask while doing so and no amount of ventilation will prevent them from expelling saliva droplets while doing so?

No, particularly not if they are in a space that is designated for that purpose so that people can plan accordingly with respect to their own risk levels.

My orientation is harm reduction, not virtue ethics. My lens assumes that individual people are modulating their behavior according to their overall circumstances and ability, and that the best way to change behavior is to emphasize evidence based structural practices that make safer behavior easier. These are some of the central insights that we learned from activists during our last major plague.

Shaming people tends to result in all or nothing behaviors rather than an overall reduction in harm, just like increasing anxiety and fear generally in an environment does: fearful individuals may avoid danger by freezing and not engaging in a risky behavior as frequently... Or they may simply engage in a risky but rewarding behavior impulsively, when a potential opportunity seems to arise, and reduce the amount of time that they spend thinking about ways to reduce risk.

I want people, as much as possible, to think about risk as something that can be assessed fairly objectively and to think about their decisions as tradeoffs made subjectively based on individual context and values. And I want them to understand that different people have different trade offs to make. Metaphorically, fearful people freeze in place or bolt across roads without pausing; I want to teach people to look both ways before they cross. Is it ever ethical to cross a road? How many lanes of traffic? Are there lights? Can we put lights in?

Shaming people and blaming them for any suffering also dramatically increases the likelihood of those people experiencing trauma from an extended stress. If stress is a wound, trauma is like a scar: it persists as an understanding of the risks of the world that we can't unlearn, even when the immediate stress is past. The trouble is that we are social creatures, and our bodies weigh the value and strength of our social connections—how safe we feel within our networks—as dearly as they weigh the bread in our mouths, using the same scales to do so.

No human survives alone. Who would stand watch as we sleep in case of leopard? We are all reliant on the social connections and contacts we weave with one another. So when we find ourselves feeling that our fellows wouldn't protect us if we are in danger, we learn that our stressor is even riskier than we thought: we can't rely on our social networks to protect us if they think we deserved it. So we etch the fear into our brains with the vigilance of the human who can't rely on the group for protection and support.

Is it ethical to engage in behavior that might harm my neighbor? Which neighbor? Who can say?

You gotta stop the little Calvinist asshole in your head from doing your thinking for you. It's not about preventing transgression, it's about preventing harm—and harm is multifaceted, contextual and often conflicting. The best I can do is let everyone judge their risk for various things as accurately as they can.

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tr34sure · 2 months

Text

You like that, huh? || Kang Yeosang

Warnings: Toxic!Yeosang x Fem!reader, protected sex, fingering, nipple pinching, (baby trapping), and impreg kink

Y’all I know, I know imma write something better soon trust!!

It's true. I hated how much I loved Yeosang. Every time we got back together, I told myself that this time would be different, but I still fell into the same old toxic patterns. I knew he was bad for me, but I couldn't stay away from him. I always found myself running back to him, no matter how many times he hurt me or let me down. It was like some kind of addiction.

I promised myself that no matter how much he called, texted, and showed up at my door, I would never give in again. I knew he was obsessive and controlling, and I couldn't keep allowing him to drag me into that toxic cycle.

It's now 3 AM, and I'm still awake. My mind is racing, thinking about everything that's happened. I can't sleep, and I'm feeling frustrated and anxious. Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door. Who could be knocking at this hour? I try to ignore it, but the knocking gets louder and more frantic, as if someone is desperate to get inside. I get up and open the door, only to find my ex-boyfriend Yeosang standing there.

His eyes are filled with desperation and pleading, and his body language screams of need. I try to keep my distance, but I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He's always been good at manipulating my emotions, and it looks like he's not going to stop now. I know I should send him away, but something inside me wants to give in to his pleas.

"Yeosang, I told you to leave me alone," I say, trying to sound stern. But my voice comes out shaky and uncertain.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can I just come in please?" His words are like a drug, clouding my mind and making it hard to think straight.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks and rewards of letting him in. On one hand, you were drawn to him, wanting nothing more than to feel his touch and taste his kiss.

On the other hand, you knew that once he was inside, there would be no going back. You bit your lip, torn between your desires and your fears. But as he took another look, his eyes filled with the promises he made you, and you found yourself giving in to temptation.

“Okay.. come in”

You opened the door wider, inviting him in, your heart raced with eagerness. You couldn't help but wonder what he would do next, how far he would take things. But you didn't have long to wait. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

As the door clicks shut, the room falls silent. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. His eyes never leave mine as he slowly approaches me, his steps deliberate and purposeful. My heart skips a beat as he reaches out to touch my cheek, tracing the outline of my jawline with his fingers. I lean into his touch, unable to resist the pull. His hands move down my neck, tracing the line of my collarbone before moving lower, over my chest.

I gasp softly as his hands brush against my sensitive skin, my nipples hardening under his touch. He smiles, knowing the effect he has on me. His hands move lower tracing the curve of my hips moving higher up my thigh. I can't help but arch into his touch. He pulls me closer.

As he leans in to kiss my neck, his lips brush against the sensitive skin there, His hands continue to explore my body, tracing patterns on my skin that ignite a fire within me. His kisses become more insistent, his breath hot against my neck.

His lips move up to my ear, and he whispers, "Do you like that, baby?" His voice is husky, filled with desire. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, I nod, unable to speak, lost in the moment. He chuckles softly and continues to kiss and nibble on my neck.

His lips move down my neck, trailing soft kisses and gentle bites. His hands slide up my sides, cupping my breasts through my shirt. I gasp as he lightly pinches my nipples, causing them to harden. He moans into my skin, and I can feel the vibration against my flesh.

I tug at his hair, urging him to look at me. Our eyes lock, and I see the desire burning in them. He pulls back slightly, his hands still on my breasts. He smirks before crashing his lips back onto mine, his tongue dancing with mine hungrily. His hands slide down my stomach, pushing my shirt up and exposing my bra-clad breasts to his touch. I gasp as he lightly pinches my nipples again, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over me.

His hands move lower, slipping under my shorts and onto my bare thighs. He groans against my skin, and I feel his erection pressing against my stomach. I arch my back, inviting him closer. He pulls away slightly, his eyes searching mine for permission.

I nod eagerly, and he slides his hands up my thighs, stopping just short of my panties. He looks at me again, his eyes full of lust and desire. I nodded once more, and he slowly pushed his fingers over the fabric, tracing the outline of my wet pussy lips.

He pushes my panties to the side and plunges two fingers deep inside me. I cry out in pleasure as he begins to thrust in and out, hitting my G-spot with each stroke. His other hand finds its way back to my breast, squeezing and massaging it roughly.

I grab onto his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin as I lose myself in the sensation. My hips buck against his hand, meeting his thrusts with equal force.

“Fuck Yeo-“

Unable to resist any longer, he pulls his fingers out of me and he reaches down and tugs at his belt, unfastening it before pulling it off. His movements are rough and urgent, mirroring the desire that burns between us. He yanks his pants down to his ankles, freeing his erect cock from its confines. The sight of him, naked and powerful, only serves to fuel my high .

Despite your impatience , you watched as Yeosang finally put the condom on, he took a moment to ensure it was secure and no air bubbles were trapped inside.

I feel the head of his cock pressing against my wetness, and then he pushes inside. I cry out in pain and pleasure as he fills me up. He starts to move slowly, his hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that sends shivers down my spine. His hands grip my waist tightly, pulling me closer to him. I moan loudly, meeting his thrusts with my own. The sensation of being filled and claimed is overwhelming.

“Fuck- m’gonna put a baby inside of you, make you all mine forever.”

“P-please Yeo, I need you~”

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into me with a force that takes my breath away. His hips slap against my ass, leaving marks on my ass . I cry out in pleasure as he hits my sweet spot over and over again. The sensation is too much, and I start to shake uncontrollably. My walls begin to tighten around him, signaling my impending orgasm. With a final thrust, he releases himself inside me, filling me with his warmth and seed.

————————————————————————

—— Time skip: A few weeks later

A few weeks after your encounter with Yeosang, you started to notice some changes in your body. Your period was late, and you were experiencing morning sickness. These symptoms led you to believe that you might be pregnant.

Despite feeling both anxious about the possibility you couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious of Yeosang's absence. He hadn't contacted you or made any attempt to contact you since the intimate encounter. As the days went by, your suspicions grew stronger, but you couldn't shake the hope that maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding.

Determined to get some answers, you decided to take a pregnancy test. The results confirmed your worst fears - you were indeed pregnant. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tried to reach out to Yeosang but his number was no longer in your phone.

You felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do next. With tears streaming down your face, you made an appointment with a doctor to discuss your options.

“This motherfucker..”

#kpop blog #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop story #yeosang #ateez smut #kang yeosang #ateez

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Text

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Four: Flight 29 Down

Summary: You were told that for this mission to be a success there would need to be no less then two consecutive miracles—but all you got was a back seater and a shitty ex boyfriend.

Warnings: Angst. Rooster x reader. Platonic Bob Floyd x reader.

Word Count: 7.1k

Author Note: We have some platonic Bob moments and a couple of flashbacks. Absolutely powering through this series. Also, for a filler chapter before we get into the big stuff somehow this is 7k.

“Not a morning person Chaos?” Hangman picked the wrong day to try and mess with you, but then again. When was there ever a good time? Slamming your locker had become something of a habit you’d created, but this morning? After having just had your heart torn out and gutter stomped into nothingness by the man you promised yourself you wouldn't go back to– it only seemed out of necessity. You know, so you didn't blow your own brains out. “You look awfully tired? No coffee in the mess hall?”

“Hangman, there are exactly three places you can stay for free, the fuck out of my face, the fuck out of my way and the fuck out of my buisness.” The silence that filled the room, you swore you could hear a pin drop. Everyone looked at you like you’d just committed a crime. Suddenly the centre of attention, exactly where you didn't want to be. Rooster stood by his locker, hurting himself. He didn't have the balls to confront you in the locker room, not after this morning's escapades. He thought some time passing would help ease the situation, perhaps he’d get you at a better time to just explain he hadnt done what you thought he did. He didn't have a girlfriend. He didn't want anyone except for you.

Hangman stared at you with a subtle smirk on his face, chewing a piece of gun as always. Cocky and oh so sure of himself. Looking over your shoulder he saw Rooster staring at you. Guilt just dripping off of him. Jake Seresin was good at a lot of things, but one thing he was exceptionally good at was spotting a guilt ridden man. Choosing to leave the situation he found himself in at that. Not giving you the time of day as he walked away, directly towards Rooster.

“I was right about the eleventh man theory wasn't I?” Hangman whispered as he came to stand next to Rooster. Rooster was adamant if there hadnt been so many people around he would have clocked Jake up the side of the jaw himself, but the risk to reward ratio didn't weigh up in his favour. “What exactly did you do?”

“I messed up.” Rooster's eyes never left you as he watched you leave the locker room, doing up his flight suit as he sighed. His fist slamming against the thin door of his locker. Leaving an indent. “I messed up big time.”

“God what is it with everyone abusing the lockers this morning?” Fanboy questioned as Bob shook his head as if to say don't ask. Hangman was trying his best to put the pieces together, opting to place his hand on Roosters shoulder. Smirking, still chewing that piece of gum Rooster hoped he’d choke on.

“Oh well, you know what they say man, the more you fuck around the more you find out.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Good morning.” You barely had the energy to sit and listen as Admiral Bates stood before you. Unlike yesterday, you sat snugly between Phoenix and Bob, Rooster’s gaze burning into the back of your skull as you did everything in your power to ignore him. Still seething from your fight earlier that same morning. From having your heart ripped from your chest without any medical intervention. “The uranium enrichment plant that is your target will be operational earlier than expected.” Sighing dramatically as you rolled your eyes, your head lulling to Bob's shoulder in defeat. Honestly at this point it didn’t shock you, you used to think adulthood was one catastrophe after the other– but oh how wrong you were. They all liked to pile on top of one another at the same time.

“Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days time, as a result, your mission has been moved up one week.” Now that? That sparked your interest slightly. Truth be told, It scared you—what the hell? What time did any of you have?

“I don’t mean to offend, but you know you look like hell right? Everything okay?” Bob leaned over as he whispered in your ear.

“Thanks Bob, you always know how to make a girl feel awfully sure of herself.” You teased as you sat up straight, sending him a soft and subtle smile. “Im fine–” Admiral Bates raised his voice a fraction, gaining your attention once again.

“In order to avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation.” Bob kept his attention on you though. Something had happened, he just wasn’t sure what. You looked tired—sad. What had Bradshaw done? Bob had a pretty good memory and it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. He knew Rooster had a tendency to break your heart, his favourite pastime. A hobbyist.

“Sir, no one here has successfully flown a low-level course.” Coyote interjected as he sat up a little straighter. More integrated. Concern plastered evidently on his face.

“Nevertheless you've been ordered to move on.” Admiral Bates wasn't a warm man, but this? Even this was a little out of his usual realm of expertise. “Captain–” He gestured as Maverick stepped before the group, you'd all seamlessly lowered yourselves into the chairs you sat on. Defeated even before the first training session of the day. The deck was truly stacked against you, everyone felt it. But you felt it the most. How on earth could you pull yourself together to be able to look Bradley in the eye and confidently tell him you’d have his back if you were told to fly together? At the moment you couldn't. No way in hell, completely blinded by rage.

“We have one week left to focus on phase two, it's the most difficult stage of the mission.” All you could do was listen at this moment in time, but that was difficult when memories of last night were rushing through your head. The juxtaposition of love and wholeness you felt in Bradleys arms completely diminished by the anguish and betrayal you felt when you heard those words come through his phone. His girlfriend? What fucking bullshit. Did you have loser tattooed on your forehead? Perhaps use me?

“It's a pop-up strike with a steep dive requiring nothing less than two consecutive miracles.” Pete held up two fingers as he looked your way, making a mental note at how drained you looked. Something was off– he could tell. Turning his attention to Rooster who sat across the aisle from you, who looked just as awful. Fuck not now. Not with the teams he’d already proposed to the Admirals for training today. Whatever it was, it would have to wait.

“Two pairs of F-18’s will fly in a welded wing formation, teamwork, precise coordination of these aircraft is essential to both the mission's success and your survival.”

“As you know, the plant rests between two mountains.” Pete went on to explain as you watched the graphic play behind him. Taking notes as you watched the screen run through of the mission someone in operations must have digitalised. “On final approach, you’ll invert directly into a steep dive. This allows you to maintain the lowest possible altitude and the only possible attack angle.”

“Your target is an impact point less than three metres wide. The two seat aircraft will paint the target with a laser bull-eye. The first team will breach the reactor by dropping a laser-guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch.” This all seemed too surreal. How on god's green earth were any of you supposed to pull this off?

“This will create an opening for the second pair, that's miracle number one.” Maverick pointed out as he walked up and down the front.

“The second team will deliver the kill shot, and destroy the target. That's miracle number two.” It wasn’t that Rooster wasn’t paying attention—he was. But as he fumbled the necklace you’d thrown on his lawn, he couldn’t help if his mind escaped to someplace far away. He’d managed to fix it in the time he sat eating his breakfast before work. Thinking of all the ways he could explain himself.

“If either team misses the target? Then the mission is a failure.” Rooster couldn’t help but to think about the moment he’d gifted it to you. Your sixteenth birthday.

His face still hurt like a mother fucker. The stitches in his eyelid, cheek and neck would be a dead giveaway to the pain that radiated across every inch on his face. But Bradley Bradshaw would need to be six feet under in order to miss your birthday.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You beamed, so unbelievably excited as you took Bradley into your arms. Being as careful as you could be so as to not hurt him. Still battered and bruised. “You should be at home!”

“I wasn’t gonna miss this.” Bradley beamed back as you gently ran your fingertips across his cheek. “Trust me—it looks worse than it really is.”

“I find that really hard to believe.” Two weeks prior to your sixteenth birthday, Bradley Bradshaw has gone head first out the windshield of his buddy TJ’s 1998 Toyota Corolla. He hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. For a few days it had been pretty chaotic to say the least. But you’d spent every morning before school and every afternoon after school by his bedside. Some afternoons even staying so late that the nurses had to remind you of visiting hours.

He’d learnt a valuable lesson that day, to savour every moment he could because life was precious. He’d also decided that loving you was going to be the one thing he was going to put any effort, any time into.

“Enough about me—I got you something.” Bradley pulled out a small box from his back pocket. Handing it over as you took it gently. Your dad watching the moment from a distance, asking god to give him strength if a Bradshaw was gonna be the one who stole your heart. “I just thought maybe having something to always know how much I appreciate you would make things a little easier to process when I get myself into situations.” He wanted to say how much he genuinely loved you—but right now? With all your friends and family around for a barbecue, he’d settle.

“Bradley—it’s beautiful.” You cooed as you opened the small box, the left side of a silver broken heart with a small B.B etched into it. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Bradley pulled out the other half that hung around his neck. “See, I’ve got the other half.”

“Well I'm sure it’s the only broken heart I’ll ever have as long as I have you around.” Pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes, you gently kissed Bradley Bradshaw on the lips for the second time in his life. Stealing his breath away. The first time being when you were playing a game of spin the bottle at Roger Mclauclans house over the Summer time. “Thank you, I love it.” Bradley remembers washing you dash away to show your mum. He remembered standing still with his eyes on you for what felt like an eternity before your dad made his approach.

“You look more and more like your old man every time I see you kid.” Tom smirked as he stood next to the seventeen year old. “Just don’t grow a moustache, ever.”

“I’m trying my best Mr.K—“ Bradley teased. Rubbing your cheeks. “But I’m not quite there yet.” He remembered standing with your dad, both admiring the person you were becoming, sighing Tom asked an incredible question that Rooster still remembered his answer to word for word.

“What are your intentions with my daughter Bradshaw?”

“Just want to love her the way she deserves to be loved, Mr.K”

“Egress is a steep high-G climb out to avoid hitting the mountain.”

“A steep climb at that speed? You’re pulling at least eight G’s–” Hangman was quick to interject as he sat across the aisle. His eyes drawn to the graphic display behind where Pete stood. He was in this–every ounce of his being was in this mission.

“Nine minimum, most likely.” You offered your opinion easily, knowing eight G’s wouldn’t be enough to get you over the lip. “Closer to ten if you really wanna keep your speed going over the lip–basic aerodynamic maths.”

“The stress limit of an F-18’s airframe is seven point five.” Rooster ran his mouth as you turned to face him in your chair. His eyes dark as he twirled his pen. He’d abandoned all his Inhibitions at the threshold of the door you were so eager to leave through this morning. His neck littered with bruises, reminders of how close he came to being yours again and just how easily he let you slip through his fingers. “Basic, knowing your aircraft.” Bob felt your hand ball up into a fist beside him, opting to cover it with his own as he looked at you completely blinded by range.

“That's the accepted limit, to survive this mission, you’ll pull beyond that. Even if it means bending your airframe.” Maverick had your back, you were right. Rooster eased off a little into the back of his chair, watching as you let your head fall back to Bob's shoulder. Tired. Still listening to what Pete had to say.

“You’ll be pulling so hard, you’ll weigh close to two thousand pounds,your skull crushing your spine, your lungs exploding like an elephant sitting on your chest, fighting with everything you have just to keep from blacking out.”

“And this is where you'll be at your most vulnerable, this is coffin corner. Assuming you avoid crashing into the mountain, you’ll climb straight up into enemy radar while losing all of your airspeed.” A sudden beeping rang throughout the room as you watched the two jets flash red. “Within seconds you'll be fired upon by enemy SAM’s, you've all faced sustained g’s before, but this? This is gonna take you and your aircraft to the breaking point.”

“Sir, is this even achievable?” Phoenix cooed as she sat quietly taking everything in—she’d been benched with a sinus issue for today, grounded.

“The answer to that question will come down to the pilot in the box.” Maverick lethis answer linger for a second as he pulled a piece of paper from his top left pocket. Unfolding it as he rubbed his brow. “First team will be the red team, Hangman flying with Payback and Fanboy. Second team will be the blue team.” You caught onto his pause, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea Pete thought to himself. But nevertheless—he persisted. A chance now would be detrimental to the lineup of today's runs. “Because Phoenix is out with a sinus issue it’ll be Rooster with Chaos flying pairs with Bob.” This couldn’t be fucking happening.

“Mav!!” You shot up out of your chair like a rocket, laser locked eyes mixed with a locked jaw. “You can’t be serious—“

“Trouble in paradise huh Rooster?” Fanboy bumped into Roosters shoulder as you looked at him. His eyes full of regret and love. Rooster knew you were hurting, but the extent of it he was blind to.

“It’s not a question Lieutenant, either fly or pack your gear. That’s an order.” Vice Admiral Beau’s voice bellowed from the back of the room as you spun around to face him. Groaning, you marched off to grab your gear—feeling completely set up to fail. Deciding hiding your emotions was going to be the only thing that would get you through this day—either that or a lobotomy.

***~***~***~***~

“Chaos!” Rooster caught up with you as you walked towards the double seater F-18 you’d be flying. It had been a minute and truly? You didn't know if you were ready to do this again. Simply because the idea of having Bob’s life in the palm of your hand scared the shit out of you. “Y/n!” You didn't dare slow down, ignoring Rooster as he called your name. “Lieutenant Kazanksy, a word, please?” God he got you with that one. Knowing you couldn't deny a direct order. Rolling your eyes with a huff, you turned to face Rooster. Both geared up in your flight suits and flight gear. “We need to talk–”

“About what, exactly? The way you manipulated me into thinking you really wanted to change or the fact you omitted key details about your blooming love life!” Your voice was just above a scream. Nostrils flaring. You were just trying to protect your heart at this point.

“I didn’t omit anything Y/n, if you would just let me explain then—“

“Unless it's about the mission I would like to refrain from mixing my professional and private life, Sir.” Rooster felt like he’d just been shot in the chest. You wouldn’t give him the time of day to explain. “So, do we still have anything to talk about? Or can I go now?”

“No ma'am, I guess we don't.” Silence fell heavily around the pair of you as you both stood looking each other up and down. You would rather be anyone else right now. You felt dirty, like you had to wash the first three layers of your skin off.

“Good, because this is hard enough for me to handle, standing here–with you, after I fell for the same bullshit again–”

“Y/n.” Rooster reached out to grip your forearm, only for you to pull yourself away. Bob happened to be walking towards you as you grimaced at Roosters touch.

“I sweat to go if you don’t stop touching me Bradshaw I will fucking shove my fist so far down your throat you’ll need a permanent feeding tube.”

“What are you? Psychotic?” Rooster towered over you as you held your ground, how did things change so quickly. Last night you were convinced you were the love of Roosters life. Now you were convinced he’d only ever wanted someone to play with, his personal play-thing.

“I dare you to say that again you sociopath—“ You got a little closer to him. “I’m not afraid to throw hands Bradshaw ask Hangman—“

“Okay–” Bob intervienced as he heard you threatening Rooster, reaching out for your shoulders as he led you away from the confrontation. “Enough of whatever the hell that is?” Looking over his shoulder back to Rooster with a puzzled look. God what the fuck was going on with you too?

“You good?” Bob asked as he offered you a hand up onto the wing of the F-18.

“Never been better Bob—“ Taking it, you huffed as you stepped up. Walking carefully across the mix of carbon fibre and aluminium.

“I’m not feeling inclined to believe you, somethings up.” Bob groaned as he jumped up onto the wing, pulling himself up muscle up style. It always seemed to catch you off guard as to how strong Robert Floyd really was.

“I promise I’m good, just drop it.” Bob was starting to get on your last nerve. But that didn’t stop him as you sat down in your seat. Strapping in.

“You know you’re a bad liar right?” There was something comforting in Bob's persistence. It was coming from the best part of him. But right now? Was the last place you wanted to be grilled about your love life. Behind the throttle of a god damn F-18 fighter jet.

“Jesus Bob, get off my dick—I said I’m fine!” You shouted. Bob didn’t care, he knew he was close to cracking the shell you’d surrounded yourself in. Situating himself behind you as he strapped himself in. Going through the motions. The process.

“You know beauty isn’t your lack right?” Bob learned over your shoulder from his seat behind you. “I mean—if he’s gonna call you a psycho anyway, you may as well cause a scene, just not around me because I feel inclined to intervene.” If there was one thing on this earth Robert Floyd was good at? It was being a good friend. It felt good to fly with Bob again, strange. But good. Going over your systems as you taxied down the taxiway, you made sure your communications systems were still turned off. Sighing as you explained what the hell had been going on.

“We slept together—“ It felt wrong to say. Especially since you’d told Bob just how badly things had ended in the past.

“Oh?” Well, I wouldn’t think that would be—“ You didn’t let Bob finish what he was about to say.

“Then his girlfriend called this morning.” Bob couldn’t see your face, but he just knew by the tone in your voice that you weren’t alright. Not in the slightest bit. “There’s a part of me that loves him unconditionally Bob but I swear to god I’ve never wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth more.”

“Rooster has a girlfriend?” Bob questioned as he continued checking all his systems. “That doesn’t add up?”

“Names Lindsey—“ You interjected. “She called while I was still in his bed.” You groaned as you threw your head back in defeat, squinting your eyes to stop the tears from falling. “I’m the other woman Bob, how fucking gross is that? I should be put down for this.” Placing your helmet on you flipped your visor down. “I’m completely exhausted, emotionally and physically and I feel like I’ve been broken into a million different pieces.” Bob followed suit as he placed his helmet on, flipping his visor down before he responded.

“The world breaks everyone, Chaos, the very good, the very gentle, the very brave–and those it doesn't break? It kills.” Scoffing out a small chuckle, you made your way to the end of the taxi zone.

“Is that from the good book, Pastor Floyd?” You teased as you turned your communications systems on, knowing flight control was having an aneurysm at how long it had taken you to do so. But your conversation about your forever failing love life didn’t need to be the talk of the naval base anymore than it already was.

“The great book, Hemingway.” Bob chuckled as he continued checking his systems. “All I’m trying to say is, if you let him get to you? That’s exactly what he’s gonna do.”

“That advice free?” Clipping your mask over your mouth you signalled the runway guides that you were ready for take off.

“Throw me a fiver and I’ll even write you some positive affirmations.” Bob followed suit, placing his mask on. “All systems are a go back here Chaos.”

“Roger, Roger, preparing for take off—requesting permission to engage in active drill mission run through two two nine four.” You spoke to range control. Waiting for their response you signed, gritting your teeth as you grounded yourself in your professionalism. “Rooster you copy?”

“Check, all systems in check standing by ready for take off.” Roosters' voices hit you like a frate train. He had you feeling all kinds of emotions. There was a part of you that wanted to hear his explanation, but the part of you who just wanted to get as far away from him as possible overpowered that urge.

“God this is gonna take everything I have.”

“Nice Kazansky, way to make a guy feel like you’ve got his back.” Rooster fired back as the remaining pilots sat around the break room listening in.

“The last thing I'd want is to be haunted by the ghosts of you, Bradshaw so of course I have your back.”

Your knuckles felt hash against the front door of Rooster house. Carrying an empty box for the bits and bobs you had left there over the last couple of months.

Breakups were hard enough as it is, but the moment Carole opened the front door? She was embracing you with loving arms. It made it so much harder.

“Oh sweetheart—“ Carole cooed as she pulled away, her hands still resting on your shoulders. “He’s such an idiot.”

“It’s okay Mrs Bradshaw, really.” You wiped your tears before they had a chance to stain your cheeks as you followed her into the home that held so many memories. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to be together?”

“Oh trust me honey you are definitely meant to be together.” Carole Bradshaw had never been one to not speak her mind. Following her down to Bradley’s room, she turned back to you over her shoulder as her feet padded gently against the hardwood floor. “Boys just don’t know how to think—I remember Goose tried to break up with me twice before we got married.”

“Tried?” You asked, following the women who had always treated you like the daughter she never had.

“You think I let him?” She chuckled. “I just never listened.”

“Well, I think Bradley’s pretty set on just being friends right now—“ You explained as you sat down on Bradley’s bed, next to his mother as she pushed your hair behind your ear. Admiring your beauty, your sadness. How you tried to keep yourself together even though your heart was breaking. “And at this point I think I’d just be happy to keep him in my life—so friends it is.”

“He’ll lose you one day if he’s not careful sugar, don’t let any man take you for granted, not even my son—“ Carole had always been good at giving advice. Were you going to listen? Probably not. But it was nice to hear she thought you deserved better. Looking at the picture frame Bradley had on his bedside table of you and him as children playing in the sandpit, you couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. Falling into Carole’s arms as she consoled you. Her chin resting on the top of your head as her arms wrapped around you tight. “Oh honey, don’t let him get to you like this.”

“Why doesn’t he love me?”

“Talk to me Bob.” Roosters' voices cut through your memories like shards of glass through your skin.

“We’re twelve seconds late on target, we gotta move, we gotta move.” Bob explained as you got yourself back into the game. Throttling forward.

“Copy– Try to stay with me.” Rooster replied as you trailed just behind him. Something appeared on Bob's radar that made him question his judgement.

“Huh? Wait, who's that?” Bob questioned as Mavericks voice was sharp though the comms, coming in hot.

“Blue team, you've been spotted.” Maverick chimed in. Of. Fucking. Course.

“Shit– it's Mav.” Rooster hissed under his breath.

“What the hell’s he doing up here?” You questioned as you tried to stay on target the best you could, flying just shy of Roosters left wing.

“I'm a bandit on course to intercept, blue team what are you gonna do?”

“He's twenty miles left, ten o’clock, seven hundred knots closure.” Bob reported from the back seat as he watched the radar system before him light up. Maverick position changing rapidly.

“Your call Chaos, what do you wanna do?” Rooster’s voice rattled around in your head like a rock. Visions of his body under yours flashing before your eyes as you tried to remain focused. The way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel. Explosions of pleasure still jolting your core, the very essence of Rooster still dripping from you. Metaphorically.

“Continue, we’re close, stay on target Rooster.” He knew he should have just told you, should have just shouted it to heaven and never let you go. He should have tried harder to get you to listen, explain what the hell was going on. But He didnt and Rooster couldn't go back in time no matter how badly he wanted to.

“He's swinging around to the north!” Bob shouted, both you and Rooster committed to seeing this run through out.

“Stand by for pop-up!” Rooster engaged as you failed him. Just behind him.

“Be ready on that laser Bob” You ordered the big eyed, big hearted soul in your back seat.

“Copy” He beamed, his hand coming down to unlock his laser. Your second pair of eyes in the sky.

“Blue team, bandit is still closing–” Maverick chimed in as he came closer and closer to getting you on tone, knowing you were too damn stubborn to leave Rooster.

“Popping now!” Rooster shouted as he pulled back on his throttle, sending the nose of his F-18 high into the sky as you followed shortly after. “Talk to me Bob, where's Maverick!”

“He's five miles out. He's coming fast.” Bob turned to see Maverick coming in hot behind you.

“Targets in sight.” You shouted. Ready for this exercise to be over and done with. You couldn’t handle flying with Rooster—you had to make that known.

“Where's my laser Bob?” Rooster hissed.

“Deadeye, deadeye, it's no good. sorry– I can't get a lock.” You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you. All this effort for a deadeye?

“We’re out of time, I'm dropping blind.” Rooster tried to line his target up the best he could. Dropping blind only to miss. “Dammit, missed.”

“That’s a kill—“ You heard the tone before you heard Pete.

“Mavericks got missile lock on us–” Bob sighed in defeat.

“Shit we’re dead.'' You signed, ripping your mask from your face as you levelled out.

“Blue team, level out– Rooster, Chaos? Nice team work, try a little harder to not die next time.” Just as Maverick pulled up beside you, birds smacked against his window. “Bird Strike!” he shouted as he turned to watch them get sucked up into your engines. Sending you off course for a second before you regained your bearings. Only for a second.

“Bird Strike!–” You gasped, Jesus Christ not now.

“Chaos, you good?” Rooster's voice came through the comms a little unnervingly. “Talk to me Chaos—“

“Chaos, left engines on fire.” Bob relayed what was going on, even though he knew you already knew from the amount of alarms ringing off. This couldn't be happening, not again.

“Climbing!” You began to panic, there was no way this was happening, not now. Not after Lemoore, Not with Bob, not with Rooster. “Throttling back, shutting off fuel to the left engine, extinguishing fire.” Bob watched as the right engine began to diminish, not something you’d want to see at a time like this.

“Chaos, right engines out I repeat! right engines out!” panic laced his tone as Bob watched you do everything in your power to keep you level. Keep him safe, get him back on the ground.

“It’s still spinning, trying to restart the right engine.” You explained as you went through the motions. You lungs felt heavy, like you’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Chaos it’s on fire, don’t try to restart it!” Roosters voice came through the comms. All he could do was watch on in horror as you lost altitude, your engines on fire. Although you were an exceptional pilot, he knew you were panicking. “No—fuck, Y/n don’t!” God he loved you, so much. Rooster prayed to whoever would listen that you’d make it back to base safely. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing you.

“Throttling up!” Warnings for every single system you had were ringing throughout the cockpit as you tried to regain control of your F-18.

“Chaos we’re on fire, we’re on fire!” Bob shouted, his own heart racing—trusting you to get him the hell out of dodge.

“Dammit–” You groaned. Feeling completely out of your depth. Feeling completely out of control of the situation. Rooster couldn’t breathe as he watched you losing control of your aircraft.

“Chaos, Bob, punch out now, punch out!” Maverick shouted in desperation. Both him and Rooster flying around watching in horror.

“There’s warning lights everywhere Chaos, we’re in hydraulic failure.” Bob reported, there was nothing left to save.

“I can’t control it–” It was the way you said it that broke Rooster's heart as he watched you burn out. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not with everything he had left to explain. “I can’t—I’ve lost it.”

“We’re going down Chaos, we’re going in, we're going in!” Bob repeated. Automated warning signals blasting throughout the cockpit.

“You can’t save it, eject, eject!” Rooster cried, hoping his voice would break through whatever clouded panicked judgment you were experiencing. “Get outta there—“

“Eject, eject, eject!” You shouted, Bob was first to pull his emergency handles, seconds later with a solid pull—you felt yourself flying up into the air. Gasping as you flug up and out of the cockpit. It wasn’t long before the jet was barreling down into the side of the valley, exploding on impact.

Damn—that could’ve been you.

***~***~***~***~

Miramar base hospital didn't really get a lot of attention most days. The small clinic accompanied with a few surgical rooms and about a dozen in patient rooms would consider it a busy evening when you and Robert Floyd were brought in for mandatory observation. There was something off putting about being made to do something you didn't want to do. You hated being poked and prodded. Hated being in hospitals, the smell of sterilised everything, it made you feel sick, weak.

“Where is she?” Roosters' voice filled the lobby. Pete Mitchell considered himself to be a patient man, but Rooster was testing his limits. Pushing himself up from the chair he sat in as Rooster came closer—his hand stopping his trajectory by pushing against his chest. “Mav—“

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you too, but whatever it is needs to stop.” Pete grumbled as he stood before Rooster, a few inches shorter but a few decades older. “Now I've asked Y/n already and she assured me it wasn't going to be, but are you two going to be an issue going forward, or do I need to pull one of you from this program?”

“Now's not the time—where is she?” Rooster held back every single tear he wanted to cry. He’d just witness you eject from your F-18. He’d see it over and over again in his nightmares. He’d never not remember the way he felt watching you go down, thinking he was truly going to lose the love of his life, his best friend, the person who was supposed to know him better than anyone. The one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, for better or worse. And fuck things had never been wrse between you. “I just need to see her, Pete.”

“She’s with Bob, room nine.” Mavericks' voice was soft and collected as he removed his hand from Rooster. “Bradley, she’s alright, but I can't not look past whatever is going on between the two of you, it's distracting and dangerous, it's against protocol.” Rooster didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and ran down the hall, ignoring whatever Pete had to say as he followed the numbers on the doors, mostly empty until he spotted a very frazzled, very dazed Bob sitting in the corner of room nine. Stopping in his tracks as he saw you in the bed, out cold.

“They had to give her a sedative.” Bob explained as Rooster stepped into the room, his eyes immediately locked on you. Never wavering. “She wasn’t being cooperative—I was gonna leave but.” Bob paused as he choked up. “I know she wouldn’t leave me.”

“Bob I—“

“What the hell is your problem?” Bob hissed as he stood from his chair in the corner of the room. “Chaos told me what happened—“

“Yeah well, she wouldn’t let me explain that I don’t have a girlfriend!” Rooster had had a gutful. “I don’t—I wouldn’t do that to her! God I tried to explain it to her but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Full disclosure, it's none of my business and I really couldn't care less about any of it.” Bob hissed as he stood beside Rooster, both men watching as you slept. “But you look like the biggest idiot on the planet in my eyes.”

“Don't know how I'll ever recover.” Rooster replied, almost rolling his eyes. What did Bob know? Rooster didn't care about how he thought about him, all Rooster cared about was you.

“She’s in love with you, Rooster, undeniably and wholeheartedly in love with you for some unknown reason I dont think I'll ever understand.” Bob spoke softly, his own gaze watching as your chest slightly fell, you were still breathing. Good. “She told me that she’d never go back to her ex because that would be doing herself a disservice. She knew if she went back to him, she’d end up just as broken as she was left all the other times before.” That stug to know, that you had disclosed so much about him yet so little. But what hurt to know the most was that the damage Rooster had managed to unintentionally do, caused you so much pain. “But as much as she told me she hated him, she hates herself even more because she knows deep down he could put her through everything, rip her heart out, break it a million times, but for the chance of getting to feel an ounce of love–an absolutely miniscule amount of love she deserves, she’d swim across oceans and run across fire for him.” Rooster stood next to Bob as he tried to take everything in, his head throbbed. It was hard to deny he never needed you more than he did right now, never needed your reassurance more. Never needed to hear your laugh or see you smile or feel your touch more than he did right this very moment. Because watching you almost die, coming that close, Rooster finally understood he couldn't live without you even if he tried.

“I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that ex is you, Bradshaw.”

“It is now will you two be quiet?” You grumbled as you turned away onto your side. “I'm gonna press the distress button if you don't quit it.” Bob couldn't help but to laugh softly to himself as he shook his head, patting Rooster on his shoulder.

“I'm not a betting man, but if I was? I'd put a twenty on your jaw looking worse than Hangmans in about ten minutes.” Bob had to leave it at that, he knew you could take care of yourself. But that didn't stop him from just making sure that the ones who hurt you the most knew he wasn't very fond of them, regardless if you went back to them or not. Rooster dragged a chair to the side of the room you were facing. Sitting down as close to you as he possibly could without actually being in the bed with you.

“Chaos–”

“I'm calling security.” Reaching out for the remote, Rooster grabbed your wrist as his eyes grew a little wider. “Bradshaw, I'm serious, you are the last person I want in here right now.”

“Okay fine, but let me explain first.” Rooster let your wrist go. Watching as you pulled the thin cover up over your body a little more. The room as cold as your heart. “Lindsey, isnt, my, girlfriend.” Rooster put so much emphasis on the four words he wanted you to hear loud and clear. “She was a fling who is still a little obsessed.”

“I couldn't imagine why–” you snarled. Rooster chuckled as he leaned back in the armchair. Silence filling the room for a moment.

“I understand the picture you've painted of me isn't all that great.” I know I've hurt you, over and over, but I promise you–you’re it Y/n.”

“I'm no stranger to being lied to, Bradshaw, don't start this shit again.” You huffed, rolling over in the hospital bed you laid in, still medicated, still heavily sedated. But not enough to not remember Rooster was bad for you. Heavily addicted to a drug that you knew one day would be the death of you. Rooster let you roll over, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he hung his head low.

“You don't have to believe me–”

“I dont–” You didn't care that you had interrupted Rooster. You just wanted him to leave. Your back to him still as he tried to explain himself.

“But–” He continued effortlessly. “I thought I'd lost you.” The weight of Rooster's words felt like an elephant sitting on your chest. He already had? What difference did it make if you were alive or dead. “You’re all I want, you’re all I have.” Singing, you sat up, crossing your legs under the blanket that kept you warm.

“Bradley, my plan fell out of the sky today. Do you really think I give a shit about your feelings right now?” Picking at the cuticles of your nails. “There will be a day when I can look at you again without feeling sick to my stomach but today is not that day.”

“I just want you to know I didn't use you, I don't have someone wondering what I'm up to behind their back, I'm not a cheater.”

“Well I'm glad you can take that off the list of things you are.” Turning to Rooster, you held back tears as you saw him holding the broken heart necklace you'd thrown from your car. Handing it to you as you shook your head with a scoff. God he pulled out all the heartwarming stops huh.

“If you honestly think we can’t make this work. Tell me to walk away right now and I will.” You didn't respond, god you wanted to, you wanted to tell Rooster to get up and get out so badly, but you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried. “I should have told you earlier, but I would never do that to you, never–you are the only person I ever want to be with.”

“You said it yourself Bradshaw, all this bullshit? It's a chain reaction that started with you and I can’t do this ag—-“

“Lieutenant kazansky?” Before you had a chance to finish what you were saying, A gentle knock came from the door of your hospital room. Vice Admiral Beau stood with his shoulders slightly hung. A sadness in his eyes as he approached your bedside.

Remember how you thought adulthood would be one catastrophe after another? But as it turned out, catastrophe’s love to bombard you all at the same time. Well, you now had another catastrophe to add to the ever expanding list that included but wasn’t limited to, Bradley bradshaw still owning your heart, regardless of his antics. Jake Seresin and his cocky attitude, Pete Mitchell and his threats of expulsion from the detachment if you didn't get your act together, your wingman's death, and now?

“It's your father–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Chaos Masterlist

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