#I thought the coloring would ruin it but it actually made it better than the sketch

[sadiecoocoo]

I finished :)

Once again, k traced the bases for the bird but I did the details on the feathers myself :)

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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@wandalfnation

[predestinatos]

hungry for life - MV1 (18+) ༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: it could've been a dream trip. if it hadn't been for the nightmare of the company. (also i didn't proofread i'm sorry)

tags: enemies to lovers, smut, lots of smut, filthy really, p in v, fingering, reader swallows, idk what to say.

word count: 5.2k

MINORS DNI!!!

Monet’s Water Lilies occupied the entire room, listening to your conversation intently.

“It isn’t that big of a deal” you friend said, whispering and pointing to the painting as if she was commenting on it.

Your gaze remained on the careful brushstrokes, head tilted as you replied, “Easy for you to say. I mean, seriously? Max?” your hand raised to a specific part of the painting that really wasn’t as impressive up close as it probably was from afar - but there was no other way to have this conversation.

“You’re in Paris, looking at a Monet, with your best friend” she continued, a hint of a smile in her tone of voice. Her amusement only frustrated you more as she walked a few steps to the right, trying to inspect another part of the mesmerizing painting.

“And my worst enemy” you rolled your eyes as you followed her. “It’s not fair. When you said it would be you, your boyfriend and a friend of his, I didn’t expect this. I was thinking more of a double date.”

She looked at you, shrugging, causing her beautiful hair to bounce with her. “It can still be” she joked, to which you could only reply by turning your back to her - and consequently, Monet himself, muttering a ‘fuck you’ to her giggling frame and to the lilies who stood motionless in the still water.

You stood, alone, in front of Sam Francis’s In Lovely Blueness. You felt unlovely blue yourself, though you knew you couldn’t let this ruin a dream trip for you. Your excitement might have died down the minute you met Max at the airport and put two and two together, but you were sure it was mutual, which did make things better. At least he wasn’t particularly amused himself, falling for the exact same trap you fell into.

As if manifested by your own thoughts, his frame appeared on the corner of your eye, big eyelashes adorning his eyes as he stared ahead, almost as if he had no intention of acknowledging you whatsoever. “This is inspired in a poem by Hölderlin. It has the same name and everything. In Lieblicher Bläue. It’s a representation of-” he started, shocking you at first but then angering you just as well.

“I am an art major. I don’t need you to explain this to me” you spat, a fake smile adorning your lips as he looked at you, your annoyance, and chuckled. It was brave of him, you had to admit - to intentionally go out of his way to annoy you by explaining something you were sure he knew you knew. 

Crossing his arms across his chest, his head slightly tipped to the side, he admired how easy it was to get under your skin. He wanted to be nice, to engage in a conversation and try to achieve some type of neutral ground, but he found it impossible to do so. “Since you know so much, why don’t you guide us?” 

The comment came out aggressive and petty, which wasn’t particularly intentional but he also hadn’t made any effort to hide what he felt towards you anymore. You stepped closer to him. It surprised him, how daring you were all of a sudden, but also how much you actually seemed to dislike him, to the point where this was something you did publicly, unashamedly. 

“You want me to guide you?” you asked, whispering while looking up at him. You were smaller than him, his frame towering over you even unintentionally, but that factor didn’t stop you. 

“Sure” he said, swallowing dryly, jaw clenching as the tension between you both rose. The red on the painting seemed to stand out even more and spread on the corner of his vision, inundating the whole painting.

“Okay” you replied, taking two steps back away from him, opening the distance between your bodies, carrying the red color with you as the painting seemed to fill with blue again. But not for long, for you walked and looked at him as if urging him to follow, which he did, curiosity winning against irritation. 

After a couple of steps, you reached the end of a hallway, secluded and stripped of any painting, walls too bare, contrasting with the previous setting.

He was confused. He really didn’t know what you would do next, though this whole scenario just proved you were just as childish about your feelings as he was. “And, to your left you have the exit sign, which will take you right where you belong” you said, moving your arms like a museum guide, overly cartoon-ish on purpose, knowing it would only annoy him more.

“You’re such a child” Max said. Indignation wasn’t something he felt often, yet this time he felt it appropriate. But he was also thankful - thankful that his attempt at being nice didn’t work, for he did not have to pretend to like you for a week when he absolutely did not. “I tried, at least.”

At this, you could only gasp in surprise at his courage to make such a statement. “You tried? By mansplaining a painting? Oh, that's new!” it was almost funny how you two were whispering in shots, or shouting through whispers, the empty hallway echoing your words as if to emphasize them. 

“It’s more than what you’ve done so far! I’m not the one walking around looking all bitter and bratty.”

You stood, motionless, looking at him. His green eyes fixated on yours and burned as if they were scorching red, and as much as you wanted to lash out even more at him, you figured walking away was the best solution. Once again, turning your back on someone in Paris. It had to be done.

“Oh, yeah, walk away. Good luck doing that at the hotel” Max said, the comment a nail in your coffin, a way to affirm that yes, he had won, yes he was right, and the points had been made - you were to avoid each other at all times.

You, however, stopped. His last words echoed in your head. What did he mean, the hotel? The moment you closed the door to your room and he closed the door to his, you two would be out of each other’s sight. So what did he mean by that? That he would annoy you further, being noisy, screaming, to the point where you couldn’t sleep? You were about to ask when you decided that would admit some sort of defeat - asking someone to clarify a point you hadn’t understood in an argument seemed weak, frail and ridiculous to you, so you kept walking, desperate to find your friend again.

“No,” you said when the room card was handed to you. “Fuck no” you kept going, your best friend’s hand raised towards you as she tried to contain a hint of a smile. 

Now you understood Max’s comment. Now you were angrier than ever.

Why did you let your friend handle the hotel reservations? Because you trusted her good judgment. Which was bad judgment from your part, apparently, as she reserved two rooms - one for her and her boyfriend, and one for the friends they brought - you and Max.

“It has TWO beds” she tried convincing you, as Max had already gone up angrily, snatching the card swiftly without saying a word. “I wouldn’t put you two in a king sized bed. I am not crazy” she kept going. 

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. 

Max prided himself on his fast insticts and reactions to any unforseen events that might come his way. It was probably one of his best traits, one he always mentioned when asked about his favorite psychological aspect of himself.

But all that was put into question as he stood motionless in the middle of the hotel bedroom, towel wrapped lowly around his waist as the air conditioning hit his bare back and he heard the door click open.

He stood in the same place as you closed the door behind you and ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled. He had those brief seconds of you unaware of his presence to hide in the bathroom and get dressed quickly, or lay underneath the covers discreetly. Anything at all.

But he had no time to make a decision as your eyes met his, panic written across his green irises.

You prided yourself on your fast insticts and reactions to any unforeseen events that might come your way. It was probably one of your best traits, one you always mentioned when asked about your favorite psychological aspect.

But all that was put into question when you opened the door to the hotel room and saw a Max's frozen frame, towel wrapped lowly - too lowly, you thought - around his waist, swallowing hard as droplets of water ran across his bare skin.

No thoughts crossed your mind before you cursed, a hard "for fuck's sake" escaping your lips from accumulated stress over the events of the past 24 hours.

This was not how you wanted your trip to go. This was not what you had planned. It wasn't just sleeping in two separate beds.

This proved it clearly.

During this time, Max's brain found the opportunity to adapt to the situation, adopting an arrogant attitude that contrasted from his initial shock.

"Come on, I'm not fucking naked" he said as he turned his back to you, heading to the bathroom.

"You are underneath that towel" you pointed out, starting to follow him before stopping yourself, realizing it was best not to do it. "I mean, you knew I was coming"

You heard him chuckle - really, he made sure you would - and his head and bare shoulder showed up from behind the open door. "Yes. Hence the towel. Otherwise I'd be naked. Which I'm not. Don't be such a child."

You could only throw a middle finger at him in response - one that he found gave him the victory, the upper hand. One that signified the discussion was over and he was right.

He grinned to himself, closing the door as he undid the towel around his waist in order to put on his underwear and a t-shirt.

Max's hand reached for the small hanger where it was placed and his fingers wrapped around nothing. He looked at the empty hanger and then at the floor, completely empty of what he needed the most in that very moment - his boxers.

"Shit. Shit. Shit Shit" he cursed, looking around for an answer. He knew his only choice was to ask you to bring them to him, but he only knew it cost him that final victory he enjoyed so much, his ego and pride mixing with each other to create a selfishness that surprised even him sometimes.

You heard your name being called out from the bathroom. At first you thought you had imagined it, like in horror movies where it seems to be coming from everywhere, but when it sounded again you knew that wasn't the case, though it was equally as terrifying.

You jumped from your bed and went over to the bathroom, ear pressed against the door in search of a sign of danger.

"...Yes?" you asked.

"Can you bring me a pair of boxers? They're in my suitcase. That is if you don't want to see me naked for four seconds while I get them myself."

You groaned loud enough for him to hear, your steps heavier than usual so he could notice your discontentment even if he couldn't see it.

Walking over to his suitcase, you opened its zipper almost carelessly, searching for a pair of underwear in the midst of the collection of same colored t shirts and same fit jeans.

Max was walking around the bathroom like a mad man, realizing how ridiculous this situation was, and how ridiculous it was that he had accepted it without asking who his company would be first. Maybe this was a lesson, yes, from the ghost of vacations future warning him about being careful who to trust, or to spread kindness, or something.

Before he could dive deeper into thoughts of madness, a knock sounded on the door. He grabbed the towel quickly to cover himself, although he did not bother wrapping it around him. He was not planning on opening the door entirely, not after the scene you caused.

As he opened, he saw an outstretched hand - yours - holding a pair of underwear. The fabric dangled in your pointer finger as if it was made of a burning material that you needed to get rid off, and fast.

He grabbed that from you, but as he was closing the door, your arm remained in place.

"I'm childish but you brought like two packs of condoms for this trip?" you said accusingly, and he could hear your smirk, as if you finally had something to hit him with.

"Don't flatter yourself, I didn't know I'd end up with you" he said as he pulled his boxers up and opened the door once again. "Is this less offensive than the towel?"

He was close - closer than you had expected - and though he hid his own surprise at seeing you at the doorframe, he couldn't deny that he didn't exactly measure the consequences of not checking where exactly you were before opening the door so fast.

His chest was close to yours, so close part of him almost felt as if you were touching, the proximity making him feel unbelievably taller than you, though he was sure the difference couldn't be that big.

You tried not to stare. Really, you were trying really hard. But he was so close to you he occupied your entire line of vision, his pale skin appearing so smooth in front of yours, contrasting with the dark color of his underwear - that you unconsciously had picked.

He towered over you, head low so he could look at you in the eyes, though the view wasn't particularly bad from up there. Your pajama top was loose - too loose - in your frame and your shorts were the very definition of the word.

"You wanting to sleep with me would be an insult" you said, moving away from the doorframe so he could pass, though he didn't move, merely crossed his arms across his chest, muscles tensing slightly at that. "And sure. It's an improvement" you continued, staring him up and down - taking his frame in but disguising the act as disdain.

Max's head leaned to the right, a smirk growing on his lips as he realized he got you for a second time. Nonchalantly, eyebrows raised, he decided to act.

"That's not what you said a year ago." There. He had you. And while before this bickering came from a place of anger and hatred, he was growing increasingly more amused at how you matched his own pace.

"Yeah, but that was before you opened your mouth" you retorted, focusing hard - too hard - on his face and not on his body, though it did not help either. His hair was messy and slightly damp from the shower, and his stubble had grown in a way you could only describe as attractive - not perfectly shaved but not entirely messy either.

He bit his lip then, mostly because he knew what to say to you after your words and was trying not to smile. Also because you had admitted to feeling attracted to him, even if only physically, which added to his confidence as he stared at you and ran his eyes down your body. "What's wrong with my mouth?"

You were dumbfounded for a few seconds, mouth opened at the ridiculousness of his comment, what it implied and the line it had crossed. "You're such a piece of shit" you said, while his grin grew to his eyes.

"You want me" he sounded so matter of factly, as if he had commented on the weather or said the sky was blue.

"I hate you."

"Never said you didn't" Max took a step forward towards you, and you found yourself unable to walk away. Something about his deviance pulled you in, and part of your brain told you you could leave, though another tried to convince you you were only staying because this was your room, after all.

"Then how could I possibly want you?" you asked, though it was more directed at yourself than at him this time.

He looked away then, as if the answer was obvious, his body moving closer to you but never touching you, both decreasing and increasing the distance between the both of you.

"You want me but I'm a piece of shit. And that's why you hate me. Because you know, deep down, you still want me to fuck you" as he said this, he moved away, almost as if the conversation had never happened, though it had, just now.

"I don't want you anywhere near me" you tried to sound assertive but part of your voice had failed by how taken aback you were, still wondering if you had imagined his words.

He stopped and turned to you once again, battling his own brain on whether or not he should push you a bit further.

"Define near" he said, as he walked closely towards you, like a predator slowly approaching its prey, defying them.

Your chest rose and fell as he moved, and you found yourself unable to tell him that that was near enough, mostly because it wasn't, not even close.

The back of your legs hit the bed - his bed - and you fell backwards, sitting on it as he moved as close as he could towards you. "Is this near for you?" he asked, though his tone had changed into something darker, raspier and more filled with lust than flirt.

You swallowed, refusing to break eye contact, aware of how you looking up at him provided a view for himself as well.

"Who wants who now, huh?" you asked teasingly, a smile spread across your lips as you noticed his body tensing up - with a bit of anger but maybe a bit of arousal too.

"Is this wanting you?" he asked back, finding your language had moved from insult to rhetoric, questions that needn't answer - not when he could see your eyes shining as they looked up at you from your eyelashes, not as he saw you crossing your legs despite your attempts at discreetness.

You shrugged at his question, not wanting to back down on your claim but also not wanting to give him the chance to refute it.

His hand cupped your face with firmness, holding your stare as he lowered himself towards you, bringing his lips close to yours, so close you felt his skin brushing against yours although he broke away before you could indulge in his initiative.

"What about this?" he asked, testing you now, though he knew the answer himself, felt it in his body as his boxers felt tight against his erection.

"I'm still unsure" you replied, and as if awaiting for that sign to keep going, Max exhaled and ran his hands through your bare thighs, pinching softly at them, causing you to hiss and giggle from his contact.

"Do I have to keep asking?" it was his time now to look up at you, something close to desperation rubbing at him as he knelt between your legs.

"Not if you admit it" you leaned to kiss him, to - admittedly - give him some kind of upper hand, though you weren't sure if you were playing anymore, not as his tongue hungrily explored your mouth, so desperate it was almost sloppy yet so warm and arousing and fulfilling.

"Fucking hell you're stubborn" he managed to let out during the brief instances where you weren't pulling his neck towards you, making sure his lips remained on yours.

His body moved on top of yours as you laid down in his bed, his hips pressing against yours as you felt his cock against you, a moan escaping your lips and a sigh leaving his at the contact.

"Is this, huh?" he asked again, mouth now moving to your neck, kissing it so lightly you shivered, only to bite you afterwards, the sensations overwhelming you with need for him.

Your body felt hot, burning intensely; and Max's body against yours only fueled that, his voice making you feel more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

You wanted him to feel like you were feeling in that moment - unaware he was already as on the edge of completely losing himself as you were. So you held his hand with yours and brought it in between your legs, allowing him to get his response.

Max had to steady himself. Really, part of his brain froze and only his body worked, mouth watering as he felt how wet you were, mind going completely foggy at the fact that you had done it, at how hot what your simple gesture had been - at how strongly he reacted to it.

His cock was so tight in his boxers it felt almost painful, especially when he knew how comfortable he could be, inside you, feeling your entire body react to him and him alone.

However, he craved to drive you mad as well, convinced you would probably lose your minds together in that hotel room. "Use your words" he said, pulling your shorts down in order to get better access to you.

His fingers teased you gently, brushing over your entrance and pulling away just as you were ready to take them. "Tell me, is this wanting you?" he insisted, his voice breathy and hoarse.

You wished you could answer, could say more than his name which came across as a whine for more of him inside you. It took all your strength to focus, on winning, on seeing him crumble before your eyes, losing his composure which was so so close to fall apart.

You bit your lip while staring at his eyes - once so bright but now so dark, so filled with something you hadn't seen in him before - and took him completely by surprise as you ran your hand across his erection through the fabric of his underwear.

Max closed his eyes and his eyebrows were now close together in an almost frown. "Fuck" were the words he let out as he dropped his head.

"Admit it" you demanded, not only because you wanted to win but because you couldn't wait any longer - you felt empty, his teasing frustrating you to no end.

Without warning, his fingers dipped inside you, filling that emptiness, even if just slightly. He moved them painfully slowly, savoring every inch of your moans as you kept your hand on his hard cock.

You could feel its length and thickness, making your mouth water at the mere thought of having it inside you. You started moving your hips against his fingers, craving more of the pleasure, more of him.

Max was just observing you at that point, how desperate you were for him, how beautiful you looked with flushed cheeks and swollen lips with barely anything being done to you yet.

"I would never admit something like that" his words contrasted so much with his thoughts, but he knew one fed the other both for you and him, this back and forth the main reason why you both felt an incessant pull towards one another.

"You're ridiculous" you managed to reply, though the words came out muffled and confusing, earning you a chuckle in response.

"You're being fucked stupid and I'm ridiculous?" he asked, grinning as he used a hand to removed his boxers, freeing his erection. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight, the sheer anticipation of what was to come, at the opportunity to having him buried inside you.

However, letting him win this easily wasn't something you were willing to do - and though your mind was cloudy and your judgment blurred, you stood on your elbows, face almost touching his. Your hand caressed his tensed arm which kept its movement inside you, and he couldn't help but look at your contact.

You tilted your head, biting your lip as you stared at his face - the desperate attempt at remaining composed, the rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, lips wet and eyes so dark they looked almost black.

"Who's stupid now?" you asked, hot breath against his neck. He could hide many things, but he couldn't control the goosebumps spreading across his entire body, he couldn't hide the way his shoulders tensed even more, how his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

This was thrilling. Maybe too thrilling, if such thing existed. He thought of the painting, of the colours spread across the canvas and somehow, in that moment, that seemed to increase every emotion he was feeling, and he had to close his eyes to control himself and steady his breath.

He had to keep it going. He knew he had to - he knew this was precisely what he wanted, to drive you insane, to keep the tension running across both of you until one exploded.

So he removed his hand from where it was - so comfortable, so hard inside you - and he could see you pout slightly before returning to your previous cold attitude. "You want me to stop, I'll stop" he said, climbing fully on top of the bed, both hands on either side of your head, hovering above you.

"I never said that" you bit back, though it was hard to focus as he started leaving trails of kisses on your neck, going down to your chest, and on your navel, biting your shirt and pulling it - removing the last layer of clothing you possessed.

"Then what do you want?" he asked, face in between your thighs, just above where you wanted him to be buried. Max's grin didn't hide the fact that he knew exactly the answer to this - but, just like you, he was stubborn, loving to hear the words escape your lips, to know that you wanted him to ruin you completely.

His hand now caressed your thigh, fingers softly moving up and down, drawing invisible nothings on your skin.

You fought against your will to just say it, although you wanted to give it up and just admit it. As if reading your thoughts, his eyes pierced yours with amusement as his cheek rested against your thigh, stubble scratching your skin pleasurably. "We don't have all night, sweetheart" he whispered.

The nickname caused your heart to race, but what came out of your mouth was a scoff, arrogance still coating your actual feelings despite the situation you were both in. "You're just as desperate as I am" you told him, lifting your right leg to caress his bag with your foot.

"Desperate for what, hm?" he asked, biting the inside of your thigh as he climbed back up, facing you.

"To fuck me" you finally replied, knowing it was less of an admition and more of a dare.

"Is that what you want me to do? To fuck you?" the question was rhetorical, almost mocking, but at that moment you didn't quite care. Not when the tip of his cock rubbed against you, not when he tried so hard to steady his breath.

You could only nod, carnal insticts getting the best out of you. That was all he needed to let himself go, to let go of all restraints previously holding him back - if there were any.

He sinked inside you slowly, as if to prolong your pain and your pleasure simultaneously, savoring your reactions - your whine of pleasure, your closed eyes and teeth biting your lip, your eyebrows furrowed. You felt and looked so good it took all of his strength to focus on being the stronger, composed person in the room - something he never struggled this hard to achieve.

He dropped his head low, his forehead against yours as he steadied himself. "Fuck" he managed to say, along with a loud exhale. "You feel so fucking good" he continued, words leaving his mouth almost impulsively.

"Then don't stop, Max" you demanded, almost aggressively, as your body ached for more of him.

He pulled himself almost fully out and slammed back inside you, harder now, making you let out a loud whine - one which you rapidly covered by placing your hands over your mouth.

He kept going, hips slamming against yours with a steady rhythm as you uhmed in pleasure, eyes teary already as they rolled to the back of your head.

He wanted to hear you. In fact, he wanted to know others could hear you, hear how good he was making you feel, hear how his cock drove you absolutely insane. With an assertive movement, his hand grabbed yours and pulled it away from your mouth, then held your cheeks tightly as he made you look at him.

"Don't cover your mouth" he ordered, hungrily, feeling you tighten around him as he said it. "Let everyone hear how well you take it" he continued, speeding up his pace and laying on top of you as you wrapped your hands around his waist, caging him.

"F-fuck, Max" you started, unable to resist much longer, feeling his hot body against yours, your hands pulling his hair as he moved almost animalistically, so focused on your sounds he could only get off to them.

"You sound so pretty" Max growled, close to exploding as well. "So fucking hot" he continued, and you had to bury your teeth in his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming - all you could let out was his name as you felt him inside you, and his hips rolled against you, unmatched amounts of pleasure running through you.

"I'm so close, Max, I'm so close" you said, not realizing how often his name was being uttered by you, how it seemed like one of the few words you had left to say.

Driven to a state of total lack of control, Max let moans escape his own lips, his animal vulnerability resulting in your own orgasm.

Feelings you tighten and pulsing around his cock was the tipping point for him, as his body shuddered, pulling himself out of you as fast as he could.

“Open your mouth” he said, gesturing at you to sit back. You did as he demanded, still drunk from your orgasm, still completely at his mercy, and he came finally, warm come filling your mouth.

The view was Max’s dream come true - your mouth wide open and filled with him, so obediently taking his orders and so beautifully contrasting with your previous attitude. 

“Now swallow” he said, tapping your cheeks slightly with his hand as you closed your mouth and did as he said, the slightly salty flavour filling your tastebuds.

You laid down on his bed, exhausted and completely fulfilled, while also dizzy with the amount of emotions running through your head. You closed your eyes, but felt and heard him laying down next to you, his arm brushing yours shyly now. 

“Was that close enough?” he asked.

[joostcafe]

So kiss me. | joost klein x fem!reader

Summary: Getting ready for a Halloween party with Joost is not easy, especially when he can’t stop kissing you.

Warnings: Pure fluff, kissing, a couple swear words.

A/N: I just really miss Halloween… requests are very much open!!!!

— now playing! ♫ kiss me | sixpence none the richer —

“Stop fussing.” You said, spreading white face paint onto joost’s cheeks.

His eyes squeezed shut, as he held onto your thighs for dear life. “It’s cold.”

“I’m almost done, promise.” You reassure him, gently patting his chest with your other hand.

His mouth drops before letting out a soft laugh, “You just started, leugenaar!” — and liar you were.

He attempted to lay down onto his bed before you snatched him back up, giving him a peck on the lips.

The smug look on his face made you believe it would make him sit still.

He smiled once more, the smile you loved so dearly. The way his eyes disappeared beneath his cheeks, showing all of his teeth.

You continued, carefully applying the paint to the rest of his face as he sat there, staring up at you with gleaming puppy eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled.

You can’t help but look away after locking eyes with him. He still made you nervous, even after sitting on his lap for a while.

He hugged your waist, now pulling you towards him. You grabbed his face with one hand and made your way up to his hair.

Not even a second later he leaned to kiss you once more, and you could feel him smile once again.

“We’re going to be late Joost.” You said, pulling away and fixing his hair — which you previously ruined.

He sighed and wiped some white paint off from your face. “I can’t kiss my beautiful girlfriend? You know, we can just stay home and watch scary movies.”

You and him loved home dates better than going out to parties, since you both got overwhelmed very fast in big crowds. So that actually sounded pretty fucking amazing.

You lingered for a moment before grabbing another color beside you. “Your friends will get mad, you know how they are.”

“Fuck my friends.” He replied, which he didn’t actually mean of course. “They can survive the night without us.”

You smiled and kissed him yet again, this time a little deeper.

“Sweetheart.” He managed to get out, “I don’t want your talents to go to waste.”

You laughed, grabbing the nearest makeup brush. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

Holding onto his neck, you painted the remaining clown features onto his face.

Your focus and determination was cute to him, the way you would slightly stick out your tongue when it came to drawing a sharp line. When you would stop to admire him and plant a few kisses on his neck to avoid making a mess. It was too much for him in fact, he was so in love with you.

“I think i’m done.” You said, giving him a small hand mirror.

“Wowww.” He dragged on with an exaggerated voice, “I really love it.”

You try to fix his hair once more as he grabbed a red lipstick from your bag, “May I?”

You grin slightly, getting closer to him.

He opens the tube before inspecting it. Then he swipes it gently on your lips, making sure he’s not messing it up.

“There.” He whispered.

You carefully rub your lips together before looking at yourself. “I’m impressed.”

He then points to his cheek, asking for a kiss.

You obviously weren’t gonna deny him, even if you thought he had enough for tonight — he never had enough of your kisses.

You kissed him once.

Then twice on the other cheek.

One on his forehead just because.

And a million more all around his face.

“You’re too good to me my love.” He replied.

You wrapped your arms around him, “Hey, i’m the lucky one here.”

— And after many long kisses, you spent the rest of the night cuddled up with each other, watching horror movies and eating halloween candy.

[d1xonss]

heyyy went thru all your masterlist (reader one) and fell inlove with your fics i was wondering if you can write something like grumpy!daryl x sunshine!reader ykwim? like they complete eachother (::

Sunshine

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 10

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2.1k

AN ~ Ahhh thank you so much for reading, it truly means so much! I’m always down to write this type of stuff, I think it’s so cute:)) I appreciate the request and hope you enjoy! ps- I thought this was a super cute thing to post for Valentine's Day💋

It was quiet, peaceful inside your home as you busied yourself around the space. It was a nice hot summer day, and you felt quite accomplished with the amount of things you had gotten done in just the span of a few hours. You tended to your garden full of colorful flowers, made a trip to the pantry to pick up a few things you were running low on, cleaned and tidied up the house, the list really went on and on. But the truth was you loved doing things like this, it almost tricked you into believing that life outside the gates was normal again. Even though you knew it wasn’t, it was still nice to pretend from time to time.

Currently, you busied yourself with making some of your famous homemade brownies, something you found you hadn’t made in quite some time. With everything going on lately, it was hard to find the time to do the things you loved most, which was in fact, to bake. But now that everything had died down for the most part, you quickly hopped back onto the opportunity. Whether it was cake, cookies, or some kind of bread, you always found life to be a little bit better with something sweet.

But you weren’t just making these brownies for yourself, in fact, whenever you whipped something up it was never just for you. It was also for your husband Daryl whom you adored more than anything else in this world, the man constantly making you happier with each passing day. And he loved you just as much if not more, and he especially loved being your taste tester whenever you tried out a new recipe. The first time you had called him that, he just scoffed and shook his head as if what you said was something stupid. But you could see that small smirk he had on his face afterwards, silently telling you that he actually loved the little job you assigned, though he would never admit it out loud.

You hummed to yourself quietly as you began to mix the dry and wet ingredients together, swaying your hips a little to the soft song playing in the background. Recently you had found a record player on a run and you were over the moon excited to use it, missing music from the world before. And although you hadn’t found the best records in the world to listen to, you thought almost anything was better than the quiet. The most you had found were a few country albums which weren't in your top favorite genres for sure, but you had to admit it was growing on you the smallest bit. With the way you danced along, it was hard to deny.

Your head then suddenly snapped up when you heard the sound of the front door opening, a smile being brought to your face as you already knew who it was. He was a little loud upon entering your shared house, dropping his crossbow on the table with a loud smack, huffing and puffing as he entered the living room without a word. Your smile dropped a little, usually he would call out to you to announce that he was home, but clearly today was not one of those days. He was in a mood, and you knew you would have to cheer him up.

Although Daryl was perfect to you in every way, he was a pretty grumpy man from time to time when things didn’t work out or go the way he planned. The littlest things could completely ruin his demeanor for the rest of the day at times. He would hold onto it, rant about it constantly while it was on his mind, even though most of the time it was something that he couldn’t change. But you assumed that’s what frustrated him the most. And this was no different, hearing him sigh heavily in the other room as he plopped down on the sofa. 

But the best thing about you, was that at the end of the day, you always found a way to make him feel better.

You discarded the mixing spoon that was in your hand, moving out of the kitchen and towards the living room in an attempt to see what was bothering him. But once you caught sight of him whilst lingering in the doorway of the space, you sighed quietly upon seeing how he held his face in his hands, slumped over the side of the couch. You could tell he was irritated and that something had happened today while he was out, but it was nothing that you couldn’t fix. And you figured the brownies would help too.

So you finally pushed yourself forward to enter the room, softly sitting down next to him as you raised your hand up to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Hi sweetie.” you greeted softly.

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t even raise his head up to look you in the eye. The most he did was grunt, and even you didn’t know in that moment if it was directed towards you or not.

You eyed him for a moment before speaking again, “How was your day?” you asked gently while rubbing his shoulder up and down now.

Still nothing. Damn he was a tough one to crack today. But you knew he couldn’t resist you for very long, even if today was the worst day of his life, he always came around for you. Always.

Upon not getting a verbal response, you leaned further into him and began to trail a few quick kisses on the side of his head, to which he scoffed and scooted away from. “Come on woman, m’ not in the mood.” he grumbled as he finally looked up from the floor.

“He speaks.” you said as you raised your hands up in victory, your actions causing him to scoff with a roll of his eyes. Acting as if you were the dramatic one here. “What happened?” you asked with a tilted head.

He blew out a breath of air, “Nothin.”

“Mhm…” you trailed off sarcastically with a nod, “Nothing…”

He was silent for a long moment, nearly minutes passing by, before he blew another harsh breath out as he leaned back against the couch. “We lost all those damn supplies on that run we took today, walkers just came outta nowhere and we didn’t have time to stick around. Negan’s getting on my fuckin nerves all the damn time, spittin out the same bullshit I’ve heard a hundred fuckin times before. And my bike broke down on the way back, don’t even know if I can fix it.”

If someone was looking at this from an outside perspective, seeing the amount he just unleashed while you sat there with a small smile on your face, their jaw would probably be on the floor. How you hardly reacted at all, how he was so harsh with the way he spoke, you were sure it would look questionable to anyone who didn’t truly know the two of you, or your dynamic. But the truth was, you had heard this similar song and dance about a hundred different times before, knowing he just needed to get everything off his chest and blow off some steam. And you knew after saying it all out loud, along with a little comfort, he would see that everything would be alright in the end.

Your lip stuck out in a pout as you looked at him, “Oh, my poor baby.” you said dramatically as you pulled him back into you, placing your lips on his cheek to kiss him there multiple times as he let out a heavy and annoyed sigh.

“Stop.” he protested, yet made no attempts to pull away from your affection. In fact, you swore you almost felt him lean in further.

You giggled against his skin as you pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” you spoke seriously now as you stroked the side of his face, “But it’ll be okay…everything will work itself out.”

He scoffed quietly at your words, “Ya always say that.”

“And I’m always right.” you said as you leaned in to place another kiss on his cheek, “Remember when you came back from a hunt that one time with nothing, and you were all grumpy about it? What happened the next day?”

He glanced over to you for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, “Found three deers…” he grumbled.

“Right.” you said as you moved to give his arm a soft squeeze, “You worry way too much over this kind of stuff, just breathe. Relax. It’s all going to be fine.”

His expression softened drastically after you talked to him, kind and gentle as always, wordlessly leaning into you and wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tight. You laughed lightly as you hugged him back, stroking the back of his hair soothingly as you felt him exhale deeply. Taking a breath like you advised.

“M’ sorry.” he muttered suddenly after a few moments of silence.

Your brows furrowed a little in confusion, “For what, honey?”

“For dumpin this shit on ya all the time…” he clarified as he squeezed you tighter, “Ya don’t deserve that…hearin me bitch-”

“Hey.” you cut him off as you pulled away, taking his face in your hands, “That’s what I’m here for, to listen. I’m honored to be the one you go to when you need to rant about something, and I’m even more honored that I’m the one who gets to make you feel better. That’s certainly not something to be sorry for, okay?”

His lip turned up in a small smile as he took your hands from his face, kissing your palm lightly as he looked at you with soft eyes, “I don’t deserve ya.”

You shushed him instantly with a shake of your head, “Yes you do.” you assured, before your mind trailed off a little in realization which caused a small smile to form on your face, “But…I do think I have something else that’ll make you feel better. Maybe even better than I can.”

He scoffed with a growing smile, “Well, I highly doubt that…but go on…” he said as his interest clearly piqued.

“Well…I just so happen to have some brownie batter in the kitchen with your name on it.” you said as you raised your eyebrows.

His eyes widened the smallest bit in clear excitement before glancing out the doorway, clearly itching to rush into the kitchen now, “Ya haven’t even baked em yet..?”

You shook your head with a smile, “Nope…I’ll even let you lick the spoon.” you said, knowing that was his favorite part.

His smile only grew then as there seemed to be a sparkle in his eye, like a kid in a giant candy store. The two of you then ventured back toward the kitchen where the music was still playing softly, getting the batter ready to be put into the pan to bake. But of course, he took the spoon from you almost instantly when you were done using it, licking the entire thing completely clean as if he couldn’t get enough. Though he felt he had to tease you just a little bit, taking a small dollop from the utensil on his finger before bringing it to the tip of your nose with a “boop.” 

You knew then and there that his mind was far from the events earlier that day, now enjoying his time he had with you as he looked at you as if you were a bright ball of sunshine after a rainy day. The sunshine that he desperately needed in his life.

But then the time came. The oven had beeped and you had pulled the brownies out of the oven to cool before cutting them, topping it off with some powdered sugar before your taste tester gave his honest feedback. He took a corner piece, which were his favorite, and took a large bite of the chocolate goodness while you looked at him in anticipation.

“Well..?” 

He said nothing, his eyes rolled back and a groan left his lips as he savored the sweetness on his tongue, and that was the only answer you needed. You smiled brightly as you clapped to yourself, his signs of approval proving that you were only getting better with the hobby you loved to do.

“Dunno how ya do it,” he commented before shoving the rest of the brownie in his mouth, “They just get better and better.” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled proudly as you began to grab a piece for yourself, “Well it’s a good thing I have my taste tester to give me all the feedback I need.”

Normally he would roll his eyes at the continuous nickname you bestowed upon him, but not today. He only smiled with a nod, bringing you in to leave a dramatic kiss on your cheek, pulling away with a loud “muah.”

“I’ll always be here ta taste whatever ya want sunshine.” he promised. 

And you believed him completely.

~ Thanks for reading!

[hoejosatoru]

Well Trained

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Feitan, Fem!Reader x Chrollo (separately)

Summary: Chrollo is a particular man, with particular taste. Though he loves everything about you, he has yet to see how you preform in bed. He fears that if you disappoint him, it will ruin everything that you’ve built together. Luckily, he knows someone who can teach you to behave exactly how he likes.

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Dub con that borders on noncon at times. If you’re sensitive to that at all I would skip this one, toxic relationship dynamic, manipulation, face slapping, choking, scratching, rough sex, degradation, praise, Feitan is mean but we know that, Dom Chrollo, calls you good girl a lot, body marking, oral (fem receiving), raw sex, cream pie, not proof read. MDNI

a/n: So I’ve had this idea in my head FOREVER because I want both Chrollo and feitan badly. Writing this concept out was lowkey kicking my ass though. I think I ended up pulling it together, but I hope y’all enjoy.

Dating Chrollo was a dream come true. He was everything you ever wanted in a man: intelligent, attentive, and sweet. Not to mention so handsome. He treated you like a princess and you loved it. Everything was perfect.

Well, almost everything.

You’d been dating for a couple months and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first you thought he wasn’t that into you, but when he kept coming back for more dates you knew that couldn’t be the case. You wondered if he was a wait till marriage type, or was shy in some way. You respected the boundary, despite wanting to sleep with him so bad. If he needed more time, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but it was starting to worry you. 

Little did you know, Chrollo wanted to sleep with you just as badly. Maybe even more so. He was very picky with who he slept with, hence this long period of courting. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he had genuine feelings for you. He has had some relationships in the past, but he always knew they would not be very longterm. You, however, he felt was someone he could see himself with forever. 

This revelation made him want to make sure everything was perfect. He liked women with experience, who knew what they were doing and how to please him. However, he hated having to put the work in to get his partners there himself. Luckily, he knew someone who was a very effective teacher.

“My love,” Chrollo spoke over his wine, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He smiled at your eagerness. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks colored at the blatant question. Chrollo loved how demure you were. “Y-yes, I do. A lot, actually.”

“Good,” Chrollo replied, taking a sip of his deep burgundy drink, “I have wanted to for some time now, but there is something I need you to do first.”

Your brows knitted. “What is that?”

“I’m a very... particular person. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Chrollo explained, “And I want to make sure everything is just right.”

Your heart dropped a little bit. “Am... Am I not good enough for you?”

Chrollo shook his head and placed a hand over yours, comforting your nerves. “Not at all, my love. Quite the opposite actually. I love you so much that I don’t want anything to get in the way of our relationship.”

You nodded, feeling slightly relieved. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”

Chrollo thought about what the best way to explain it was. “I have a friend. He can teach you what I like, much better than I can.” He say the confused look on your face and continued. “You trust me, don’t you y/n?”

“Yes, of course,” you replied instantly. And it was true.

“I know it is an request,” Chrollo went on, “But it is important to me. Everything about you is so perfect. This will simply make sure it stays that way.” He kissed your hand, making your stomach fill with butterflies. “I want you in my life forever. Will you do this for me, my love?”

The way he looked at you and spoke to you made your body feel weak in the best way. The answer was easy for you. “Yes, of course.”

A smile spread across his face. “Excellent.”

A few days later you found yourself in a building outside of the city. It was a bit dumpy on the outside, but the inside was furnished nicely. You were aware that Chrollo engaged in a very secretive business and decided awhile ago not to ask. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to. It didn’t matter, anyways, you loved him. And he loved that about you. 

Chrollo led you into a bedroom, occupied by one other man. You felt a pang of anxiety, not fully knowing what Chrollo meant by being taught what he liked.

“Y/n, this is my friend Feitan,” Chrollo introduced you to smaller man standing before you. The way his cold eyes appraised you sent a shiver down your spine.   You said a polite hello, but he was silent. Chrollo continued, “Feitan is on the quiet side, but I trust him completely. He is going to show you what I want.”

Your stomach rolled anxiously. “Wh-what does that mean, exactly?”

Chrollo gave you an almost sympathetic look. “I don’t want to lie to you, my love. I want you to have sex with Feitan. He’s going to... mold you into the exact type of lover I like.” 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Chrollo was a bit possessive, even early on in your relationship, so you couldn’t believe he was telling you to have sex with another man. Your eyes flicked over to Feitan, his aura making you nervous. “Chrollo I don’t-”

Chrollo gently took your jaw in his hands and turned your face back to his. “I thought you trusted me, love?”

“I do, I ju-”

“It will be okay, I promise. This will make our relationship stronger. Everything will be perfect. You want that, don’t you? You love me, don’t you?” He was so close to you, speaking so softly it made you dizzy. You almost forgot Feitan was there and what this situation was for. You never understood the effect Chrollo had on you, just that it was very strong.

“I do, I love you so much,” you replied. 

“If that is true, you’ll do this,” Chrollo replied sweetly, “And I know you will, because I know you love me.”

You nodded. You were nervous, of course, but you couldn’t say to him. “I will, I promise.”

Chrollo smiled. “My good girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Now go sit on the bed, I need to talk to Feitan quickly.” You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed as the two men stepped out side and spoke in hushed tones.

“What rules boss?” Feitan asked.

“Get her how I like them. You know the way,” Chrollo replied, “Do whatever you need to. Choke her or hit her if you need to. Just nothing that will leave a mark, especially not on her face. And don’t cum inside her, that is for me only.”

Feitan nodded. “Understood.” 

With that, the smaller man slipped back inside the room. Your anxiety spiked being alone with him. He pulled his jacket down, revealing his full face. He actually quite handsome, almost similar to Chrollo. He, however, looked more cold and harsh than your boyfriend did.  He was silent as he approached you, appraising your body language. He could tell you were nervous, which excited him.

“Take clothes off,” he stated. With you on the bed and him standing he was able to look down on you.

“I don’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence he gripped your jaw. “It not a request.” You nodded, shaking. He was not someone you wanted to challenged. You slowly took off your shirt, then your pants. You reluctantly went for your bra, but he grabbed your arm. “I do that. You undress me now.”

You nodded, your voice still feeling lodged in your throat. You were just happy to have the focus be on something other than you. You stripped off his jacket, shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear. “Good,” he said before climbing on top of you. 

Your body instinctively shrunk away from him, which made him scowl. “You treat me like Chrollo. You would not hide from him.” He place his hands on your shoulders, pressing your body into a more relaxed position on the mattress. 

“I’m sorry I- this is just hard for me,” you admitted.

“If you listen it will be easy,” he replied. He placed a kiss to the center of you check. “Chrollo will mark you here.” He kissed the top of your breast that your bra didn’t cover. “And here.” He kissed your neck. “And here. And you’ll let him.” 

“O-okay,” you replied. 

“Now we kiss.” He pressed his lips to yours, which were warmer than you thought they were going to be. Still, you felt you couldn’t kiss him back, your lips feeling glued shut. Feitan’s hand wrapped around your neck, making you gasp. Feitan laughed, licking into your mouth. “If you kiss Chrollo like that, he won’t like.” Feitan tightened his hand around your throat, choking you slightly. 

You kept your eyes closed and tried to pretend you were kissing Chrollo. It was hard at first, especially with Feitan tightening his hand more. “Do better.” Eventually you were able to get into a rhythm; you knew you were doing it right when Feitan loosened his grip. 

His grip loosening, however, meant dipping lower to your chest. He squeezed at your boobs over your bra for a moment, before taking it off. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved to cover yourself. Feitan, of course did not allow it. He gripped your arms and pinned them above your head, tsking. “You are slow learner.” 

Feitan kissed and licked at your breasts and neck. He was very careful not pay attention to too much on one spot, as he did not want to leave a mark. Feitan took any job Chrollo gave him seriously, but especially this one. He knew how much trust Chrollo had to have in him to allow him do this. He would never break the trust, but he would make sure the job was well done. By any means necessary. 

“If I release your hands, you will listen?” Feitan questioned.

“Yes,” you replied, still with a shake in your voice. 

Feitan did as he said he would. “Put them in my hair. Gentle. Chrollo like that.” You slid your hands into his dark locks, running your fingers through them softly. Feitan went back to kissing you as you did this. He smacked you bare thigh when your lips got too stiff again. You yelped, but continued to kiss him like he wanted. Like Chrollo wanted, you reminded yourself. this was for him.

His hand slid down your body, between your thighs. Your legs shut, making him slap your thigh again and roughly pry them open. “Stop fighting.” He ran his hand over your clothed cunt. You focused on kissing him and running your hands through his hair as he touched you. His rubbed your clit through the fabric. You were surprised how it made your stomach curl, how it felt... good. 

It made it a little easier to kiss him and touch him. You let your hands wander a little further down his back, making him hum in approval. You gasped when his finger slipped inside you, but recovered quickly. Feitan curled his finger into a spot that made your breath go ragged. He pumped his fingers faster, your cunt getting wetter by the minute. Your brain was a confused mess. On one hand it was weird to be touched by this stranger, on the other it did feel good. 

Feitan slid in a second finger and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Feitan gripped your jaw. “Don’t be quiet. He’ll wanna hear.” Feitan scissored your his fingers inside you, stretching you out. This time you let a moan slip from your lips. “Good.” He pulled his fingers out of you and put them in front of your lips. “Now suck.”

You took in his fingers, sucking at them. “More.” He shoved them deeper in your mouth, making you gag a little. You tried to correct yourself quickly, letting your tongue roll up and down the length of them, tasting yourself. Feitan yanked your underwear off and it took everything in you not to hide yourself. You felt so exposed under his gaze. 

As he stripped off his underwear and climbed on top of you, the reality of what was about to happen set in and you started to panic. “No!” you cried trying to close your legs. It was no use, Feitan was so much stronger than you. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you wince.

“You obey, not fight,” Feitan growled, bullying his way between your legs. You brought your hands up and start smacking his chest and shoving him away. A sudden, swift slap to your face stunned you into stillness. Your face stung as he gave you a look that struck fear into you. He gripped your jaw achingly tight and got in your face. “Chrollo never love you like this. He want girl who behave. Who listens.”

“But-” He dug his nails into your thigh more, making you yelp.

“And you never say no to Chrollo,” he practically spat. He released his grip on you, but his gaze kept you pinned in place. “You going to behave now? Or do I tell Chrollo you don’t love him enough.”

You gulped. “P-please don’t.”

“Then shut up and take it,” he replied, flipping you in your stomach. “You can’t be trusted on back.” He took both go your hands in one of his, holding them to your lower back, effectively making you immobile. You felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, covering himself in your slick. He gave you no warning when he pressed into you, making you gasp. 

Despite his smaller stature, his cock stretched your cunt. You whined as he thrust into you, not giving you any time to adjust. A slap came down on your ass. “Arch back more.” His free hand went down the length of your spine, putting you into place. The new position allowed him to get deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Feels better for him. And you.” He was right, it felt so good. Your pussy throbbed with each brush of his cock at that sweet spot.

When you bit your lip to stifle a moan, you earned another sharp slap to your ass. You opened your mouth to cry out in pain, but it turned into a damn near pornographic moan as Feitan pounded you through it. “Like that. Let me hear.” 

He continued to pound into you rough and hard. You knew you should hate it, that it shouldn’t feel so good, but god it did. You weren’t even faking your moans, they were all real reflections of the pleasure he gave you. Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, his free hand snaked around to play with your clit.

“Fuck Feitan!” you cried out. You were on the precipice of an orgasm when he pulled his hand away, making you whine.

“You want to cum? Beg.”

“Please!” Another hard slap on your ass.

“Better than that.”

You begged, desperately, “Please Feitan! Please! Let me cum. I need to!”

“Good.” His hand was back on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Now cum.” Your body responded immediately, tensing then melting into a deep, euphoric state. You were sure to moan loudly, to show him just how good it felt. You have heard him say good again, but your mind was too foggy to be sure. All you know is that he didn’t slap you again, so you must be doing something right.

Feitan pulled out of you quickly, spilling his cum on your ass and back with a low groan. He very much enjoyed when Chrollo gave him jobs like this. “Chrollo will cum inside. And you let him.” You nodded, feeling hazy and spent. Your body collapsed on to the bed as Feitan got up. He tossed a towel at you and told you to clean yourself up. You did your best to wipe his release off yourself as he dressed and disappeared out of the room. 

You were just finished dressing when the door opened again. This time it was your boyfriend. “Chrollo!” you cried out with relief. You ran to him, hugging him tightly. He chuckled lightly; you played right into his plan. He knew Feitan would be rough with you and knew that would make you love his gentleness towards you even more. It was just another way to manipulate you into believing he was a good guy, to make you desperate for his approval.

“My sweet girl,” he hummed rubbing your head. “Feitan said you did good. Just a few more lessons and you’ll be perfect. I'm so proud of you, angel.”

You sniffled. “Really?”

“Of course,” Chrollo replied, giving you a chaste kiss. “I know you must really love me to do this. It makes me so happy. I hope you know I love you, too. All of the is for us, for out relationship.”

Maybe if you weren’t in such as haze you’d realize how ridiculous this all was. Or if you weren't s enamored with him. But both of those things blinded you. “I do love you! I know you love me too. I’ll do anything, I’ll learn fast. I promise.” 

You returned to Feitan’s bed handful of more times over the next few weeks. He taught you to be the perfect lover for Chrollo, someone who submits fully and is eager to please. Overtime you found the lessons to be easier, even enjoyable. Well, maybe that was too strong of a word, but they were pleasurable. Feitan wasn’t gentle with you, but the more you learned and complied, the less he hit or was unnecessarily rough. You couldn’t deny that Feitan knew what he was doing.

Your favorite part, however, was how Chrollo treated you after. You lived for the praise he showered you with, how he kissed and held you. You never once doubted that he loved you, despite handing you over to Feitan. Your hard work paid off when Feitan finally told Chrollo you were ready.

You were a mix of nervous excitement as Chrollo led you to his bedroom. The two of you went out to dinner to celebrate and now it was time to show him you could be the perfect girl for him. You knew Feitan taught you well, but you couldn’t help but be a little nervous.

Chrollo’s lips found yours as you settled into the bed. Your lips moved against his with ease. You parted your mouth slightly, allowing your tongues to swirl together.

“Take your clothes off, my love,” Chrollo whispered in your ear.

“Yes sir,” you replied. You slid out go your dress, letting him admire the lingerie he bought for the occasion.

“All off.”

“Yes sir.”

Your cheeks flushed as you removed the final article of clothings covering you. Chrollo’s gaze was definitely softer than Feitan’s, but it still made your stomach flutter with nerves. You kept a brave face, letting him look without covering anything.

Chrollo smiled. “So beautiful,” he crawled on top of you, kissing your breasts. “My beautiful girl.” He sucked at the skin, in a way that would definitely leave a mark. “And all mine.” He continued kissing, sucking, licking up your chest and neck. You slid your hands through his hair, pressing your body into his touch. Chrollo hummed approvingly. “I allowed Feitan to touch you, but you’re mine. Everyone will know it. You want that right, baby? To be mine?”

“Yes!” you practically cried out as he sucked on a sensitive part of your neck. “’M all yours. Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he purred. He kissed you again as his hand traveled down you body. You slid your thighs open, allowing him access to your throbbing cunt. His fingers slid through you, letting your arousal coat them. “Soaked for me already? Didn’t realize you were so desperate for me.”

“Need you so b-oh,” your sentence died off in a moan as he pressed a finger inside you.

“What's that? I didn’t hear you,” Chrollo mused, pumping his fingers in you. He curled his finger against your sensitive spot, which had you mewling. 

“N-need you so bad!” you cried. His thumb made contact with your clit, making your body jolt. Your thighs instinctively wanted to close from the pleasure, but you kept them open, as you knew he wanted.

“Think I wanna taste this pretty pussy. Would you like that, y/n? What my mouth on your cunt?” Chrollo asked, toying with your pussy.

“Yes sir! Want it, want whatever you want,” you replied breathlessly. 

Chrollo smiled, loving your desperation, how it was clear you would let him do anything he wanted. He laid between your legs, licking a stripe up your pussy. “Mmm, so sweet.” He went straight to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. You didn’t stifle your moans at all. Your hands slid through his hair again, running your nails along the scalp. Chrollo let his tongue tease your hole, while his finger took over at your clit. You rolled your hips into him, grinding your pussy against his face just as Feitan told you to. 

Chrollo’s tongue and fingers switched places. He fucked you with his fingers more intensely, giving your pussy a nice stretch.

“P-please, can I cum?” you questioned, trying to desperately to hold on. You did not want to cum before you were allowed. That was a big no.

Chrollo smiled. “Because you asked so nicely.” Your body responded immediately, releasing on his face. Your cried out his name as his tongue flicked your clit through your orgasm. Feitan had made you feel good, but Chrollo made you feel amazing. You knew your love for him made it so much better.

Chrollo sat up, appraising your body. He loved the power of you being naked and him being dressed.  He loved that he could already see bruises forming on your neck. How you already looked fucked out from just his tongue. How you were looking up at him, desperate for more, but waiting for him to tell you what to do. He made a mental note to thank Feitan again.

“Undress me.” 

You complied immediately. “Yes, sir.” Your body was weak from your orgasm, your hands shaking. Chrollo was amused by how your were so desperate for him that you struggled with he buttons on his shirt. You planted kisses down his body as you removed his clothing, another lesson from Feitan. When he was finally naked, you sat back and waited for his instruction.

Chrollo climbed back on top of you and you parted your legs for him dutifully. He teased his type at your hole. “Beg for it.”

“Please Chrollo! Want you so bad,” You begged, “Need you. Only you. Please let me make you feel good!”

Chrollo made a noise of approval. “Such a good girl for me.” He slid his cock into you, making you gasp. He was definitely a little bigger than Feitan, giving you a stretch. He pushed himself in slower than Feitan did, but didn’t give you much time to adjust. He rolled his hips against your yours, his paces quickly increasing. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip the digit in. You sucked on it, keeping your eyes on his. You could feel Chrollo’s cock throb, egging you on. You began rolling your hips up to meet his, just like Feitan taught you. 

“Fuck, I love you angel,” Chrollo groaned, “Knew you’d be my perfect girl.” He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, but kept his hand wrapped around your throat. You moaned, despite his grip getting tighter around you. That combined with him pounding into your pussy made you teeter close to edge.

“Chrollo I-nngh ��m close,” you gasped. “Please can I cum?”

Chrollo dipped in to kiss you before responded, “Yes baby. Cum on my cock.” Your head lolled back as your second orgasm flooded your body. His name slipped from your lips in a desperate moan as the pleasure had you seeing stars. Chrollo fucked you through it, your spasming walls eventually pushing him over the edge. He moaned your name - the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard - filling your pussy with his warm release. His final way to fully claim you as his. 

He didn’t pull out even when you both finished, leaning in to kiss you more. “I love you so much, you were so perfect,” he praised between kiss. “And now you’re mine. Forever.” 

[glader13]

Saudade

Bi-Han x reader

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Saudade: a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains"

You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the Summer Festival, the last time being four years ago. You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the festival when all your friends were married, though not intentionally, and would barely have time for you. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror, as you put on the last of your makeup. Your jewelry box caught your eye, flashing in the light of your room as you slowly put away the makeup supplies, your heart twisting. The last time your ring saw the light was four years ago. 

You opened the box, tracing the ring. Its diamonds, shined as you turned it over in your hand, tilting it to see the engraving: for my love. Simple, but beautiful. You softly laughed to yourself, who knew people could miss being in an arranged marriage? You put the ring on, holding your hand out, an old thrill running through your heart. 

I wonder if Bi-Han does this? If he misses me? Before you could dwell on the thought, a knock on your bedroom door gave the news that your friends had arrived. You softly kissed your ring, wishing that it was his lips instead. But the heat on your face ran cold, the thrill gone as his words remerged in your heart. Your night began at Madam Bo’s, a dinner, great. You awkwardly sat at the end of the table, watching your girlfriends practically lie on top of their husbands. You felt yourself staring at their husbands’ faces, noticing how his eyes tracked their movements, their lips always curled in a smile of pride. You even noticed their arm position, around their wife, holding her close, how his lips would grace her ear or neck, whispering words of intimacy. 

The scene reminded you all too much of Bi-Han and how you met him through forced proximity. The political parties that you were forced to go to with your parents and brothers, always seeing him there, his dark eyes observant. The red drink at your table you watched being poured and then shared with your friends and their husbands, reminding you of when you actually talked to Bi-Han. You were bored of the party, and sneaking glances in his direction, you decided to walk out for some fresh air. 

You didn’t see him and neither did he see you, it was like running into a wall. His drink ruined your white dress, and you found it cute how his face, usually so stoic as you have noticed at past parties, matched the color of his drink. Your first words to him, “You can apologize by helping me get this out of my dress.” The next day, he personally delivered you a new white dress, and you now had someone to talk to at parties. This didn’t go unnoticed by your parents and his father, who watched the two of you talk. 

You stabbed at your food, smiling your way through the dinner as Bi-Han occupied your mind and jealousy clawed at your heart. You mindlessly listened to the conversations around you: someone was going off on vacation, one of your friends decided to have a summer home in the countryside and one is expecting, again. You remember your friends' confusion as to why you were so upset over the ending of your arranged marriage, though Bi-Han called things off before the ceremony could happen. 

You weren’t surprised when your parents told you that you were going to marry him, it made sense. They were trying to expand their political power, and what better way to do so than by marrying into the most powerful clan? The only aspect of your life that you were able to control was your desire for medicine, and becoming a physician. You let out a sigh, heart twisting again. 

“I’m going to the bar,” you announced, though you only got a nod and a half-hearted question asking if you were okay. The bar was no better, surrounded by men whose actions reminded you of teenagers, lacking the respect that Bi-Han has. Their stares were unashamed, some even sat close to you, the smell of alcohol on their breath making you thankful for the days that you trained with Bi-Han. His reason: “The grandmaster's wife should at least know how to protect herself.”

The festival was no better, trailing behind your friends, and dodging children escaping from their parents. You had no one to light firecrackers with, to share sweets with. Your friends and family were confused by why you refused to have another. Maybe it was because you were haunted by him at night. Feeling his phantom hands around your body, the ghosts of his kisses on your lips. He may have been cold, and hard to talk to, but he made up for it in a love that seemed to undo you at your core. So tender was his love, that it was a gift from a divine power, a gift that only his mother could have given. 

No man can come near it, no man can replace it. No matter how hard you try to convince those around you, they can never understand. You snuck away from your group, making your way back to your home, unnoticed. You slipped past your parents, who were in deep conversation, no doubt about you and how you aren’t married, and upstairs to your room. You slip out of your shoes, your hands immediately finding the jewelry box with your engagement ring. You stared at the ring, thinking of the moment when he proposed to you. 

Sitting in your shared room, you on the bed and him on the floor in between your legs, you were rubbing ointment on his shoulders and back trying to soothe the pain of his bruises and scratches. You remember the silence being loud and tense, each time his hand idly touched your leg, heat rushed through your body, stealing your breath. 

“You’re overstrained,” you said, “Take some time to rest.” He only grumbled in response. 

“I’m the doctor here,” you smiled, causing him to squeeze your leg. 

“As the future grandmaster, weakness will not be tolerated or shown,” he says. You nod, hearing him sigh in relief as you relieve a tight spot in his back. 

He reached up, taking one of your hands in his, “As the future grandmaster, I will also need someone by my side. Someone who is steadfast and loyal,” his hand tightened, slightly becoming cold. 

“You have those qualities and more. Treating me with patience and love when I deserved to be yelled at,” he finally turned around, his face a light red, “You always know what to say, and when you’re not next to me I know that I need you.”

“Your love transcends the nature of our marriage, it rubbed off on me. I’m thankful that I spilled my drink on you,” you remember the pounding of your heart as he shakily placed the ring on your finger. He didn’t need to propose, but the fact that he did overwhelm your heart. 

You wiped your eyes, watching the water fall from your finger, your mind wondering if he ever thinks back on that moment. He probably doesn’t, you frown, thinking of the slow breakdown of your relationship. In the planning phase of the marriage, his mother died, putting things on hold. You remember the night that he woke you, tears streaming down his eyes, it was the first and only time that you saw him cry. Just as he was beginning to recover and tentatively plan the wedding, his father died in an attack. 

That was when your relationship died when he officially became grandmaster. Shutting you out completely, your bedroom filled with silence. The only time that he would have acknowledged you was when you had sex, though even that was impersonal. He watched you leave that day, and it felt like he stabbed you through your chest. You still don’t know if you hate him, a part of you wishes that he would burn, that his frozen heart would stop. But the other part wants nothing more than to hold him, to be in his heart. 

The thump on your floor, caused you to jump out of bed. “I need you,” you straightened, hearing his voice. 

Bi-Han leaned against the wall, next to your open window. He was breathing heavily, his arm was bloody from a wound, as he held his side, which was coating his fingers red. You led him to your bed, taking off his top, before running downstairs to get your medical supplies. You cleaned his wound on his side first, the only noise was his sharp breathing. He didn’t look at you, well he only did when he thought you weren’t looking at his face. 

“What happened?” you found the courage to talk. 

“It doesn’t concern you,” he says, causing you to sigh. 

“But you came into my room instead of going to your home to get medical help,” you said, “So, it does concern me.”

You felt proud for sticking up for yourself, despite the eye roll that he gave you. You worked in silence again after that, moving to his arm. The steadiness of your hands was a disguise for the erratic pace of your mind and heart. There’s so much you wanted to say, but no words could translate the emotions that you felt, how much you ached for him. 

“It was during a mission,” he finally admitted, “Kuai Liang, Tomas, and I were being chased. I distracted the pursuers.”

“Are they alright?” You asked, to which he nodded, saying that they escaped. 

You smiled, saying there, as you wrapped his arm. The silence was less tense as you began to put away your supplies, the setting reminding you of the moments when you would tend to his injuries after practices and missions. You felt his eyes track you, throughout the whole process, even as you quickly picked up your ring, placing it in your jewelry box. Once everything was clean, you sat next to him, a frown forming when he slightly moved away from you. 

You finally looked at him, and his dark eyes were focused on you. You felt yourself getting lost in the hue, practically drowning, and it felt so good. So good to be lost in those eyes, it felt so good to talk to him. You found yourself feeling like the first time you saw him: staring too hard into his eyes, taking in his facial features, though older still just as handsome as when you first saw him those years ago. 

“You went to the festival,” his words were a statement, and you nodded. 

  You felt him drawing into you. His eyes focused too long on your lips, taking in the specs of your eyes. His eyes were drawn to the small scar on your neck that he accidentally gave you while training. Your face warmed thinking of the times when the two of you would make love and how he always made it a habit to kiss you there. The scar seemed to be connected to your heart because each kiss caused you to become weak. Your sweet perfume of strawberries and peach nectar reminded him of the nights the two of you spent tangled together. You looked beautiful, the red on your dress bringing out your skin. He felt a sting in his heart at the thought of you going out without him, and he didn’t know why. 

“I went with my girlfriends,” you say, feeling an odd need to clarify who you went with, “But I left early, a good thing for you.”

Bi-Han slightly relaxed, giving you another nod. You kicked off your shoes and then began to take off your jewelry. Starting with your gold earrings, and rings. You then began to unclasp your necklace, but the lock slipped through your fingers each time you tried. You sighed each time you failed, fighting with yourself to not ask Bi-Han for help. But, you felt the weight of the bed lift before coming back again as he sat behind you. He undid your necklace, quietly saying there. 

You thanked him, watching him slightly nod at you. He then began to gather his clothing, causing you to jump up. You grabbed his arm, causing him to pause, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” he said.

“You’re in no condition to leave,” you said, pulling him back. 

“I’m fine y/n,” he said, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyance wash over you, yet you didn’t open your mouth. Along with the annoyance, there was something desperate in you trying to keep him there for a little bit longer. He didn’t fight you, though he did tense under your touch, unknowingly to you, but there was something in him that made him keep his arm in your hands. 

“You need to stay the night,” you said, “You’re hurt and it’s late. Those people could still be looking for you.”

Gently, you led him back to your bed, as if testing how far you’ll be able to go. He didn’t resist, and that made your heart soar even more. He sat on the edge once again, scarcely meeting your eyes as he asked for blankets to sleep on the floor. 

“You’re on the bed,” you say, digging through your drawer to find your sleeping clothes, “I’m not going to let you do that.”

“Besides, we aren’t strangers,” you smiled, “And we did much more than share a bed, remember?”

“We aren’t married y/n,” Bi-Han stated, causing you to frown, “And that alone makes us strangers.”

“Yeah, I wonder why?” Your frown returned as you walked into your bathing room to change. Bi-Han sighed, watching you leave in silence, again. 

He walked around your room, trying to busy himself. He looked at the paintings on your wall, and the flowers in the vases. He wandered to your drawer, staring at his reflection, thinking of the time when his eyes weren’t pools of darkness, of loneliness. He lifted your rose-colored jewelry box, his eyes immediately being drawn to the Lin Kuei pendant, to your ring. You didn’t throw it out, you didn’t sell it, and that alone had his heart jump. Though, he didn’t know if it was out of joy that you still keep pieces of him, or out of shame. He wants to find out, but not tonight. 

You found him sitting on one side of your bed, facing the window. He was more relaxed, his dark hair falling over his shoulders as he briefly looked at you. You pretended not to notice the small patches of ice underneath his hands, as you blew out the candles. In bed, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other, the word goodnight stuck in your throat. You snuggled deeper into your blanket, the silence allowing your brain to scream as you thought of his last words to you, how his lips curled in indifference. 

“Do you even care about me?” You asked, “You changed so much, so different from the person who spilled their drink on me.”

“What’s your point?” He asked, “People change.”

“But people don’t shut out their lover, their wife,” you walked closer to him. 

“A wife that I didn’t choose,” his words were worse than being injured, “A marriage that is in line with my responsibility of being grandmaster.”

“Is that all that I am now? What happened to the words that you said when you proposed?” You remember feeling the pain swell in your chest, like an angry sea, “Did you mean those words? Do you even love me anymore?”

He never answered you. 

He never gave a damn, you thought, I was just another responsibility. But you hoped that you were more, and there was a time that you were. You finally slept cleaning the stray tear, wondering if he was sleeping or staring at you in the dark. 

Bi-Han woke up at the first light, quietly groaning from his injuries. He immediately looked at you, sometime during the night you turned to face him, your hand slightly reaching outward. Reminding him of the sunlight-soaked mornings when he would get up for training as you still slept. He leaned forward, noticing a slight flutter of your eyes, how the soft orange light made your skin glow. He would have leaned forward even further, kissing your face, whispering that he was going to train.  

Would’ve. 

He quickly got dressed, leaving as quietly as he came. Back at home, he stalked to his room, ignoring his brothers’ questions. He pulled open his drawer, dug through his clothes, and pulled out a ring. He stared at it, turning it in his hand. He clutched it in his hand, resting his forehead. He thought that he would be free from the ghosts of regrets, he believed that he conquered them all. Until that night with you, wanting to talk, but not being able to. But he wanted to, so desperately. He wanted to fix the words that caused you to leave him, that ruined his life. But he doesn’t how to talk, at least that’s what he tells himself as he places his ring back in the drawer. 

You woke up with the smell of him in your nose, the smell comforting. However, as you reached out, you were met with air. You turned over letting out a sigh, not knowing why you were expecting him to be there when you woke up. That morning and even that day, you spent it in a haze, thinking of your night with Bi-Han. He was constantly on your mind, as you checked in on patients, and had lunch with your friends. With every word about her new countryside home and the annoyances with the building process, it went through one ear as you thought of when he sat so close behind you, the coldness from his body radiating off of him. You couldn’t help but wish that last night led to something more. That he said something more. But he left, again, he’s always leaving. Despite the hurt, you wanted to see him again, you would do anything to see him again. You don’t know why your love is so stubborn when it has all the right to leave. But you hoped to see him again, to say the words that you couldn’t say.

[dirtyvulture]

Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by 🦥 anon: What about alpha!Nat who is anatomically female so she can't knot or mate with omega!Reader like Alpha!g!pNat can so she has her best pal beta!Bruce or alpha!Tony invent a knotting strap on 🫣 now alpha!Nat can Knott her little omega anytime she pleases. Bonus if omega!Wanda enchants the strap so alpha!nat can actually feel it 🤤

-🦥

AN: This was a good one. Thanks, 🦥!

"What's wrong, Nat?" you ask when you feel your alpha's arm squeeze your torso tighter than normal. She exhales into your hair, and you know it's not from exhaustion from your earlier activities, but frustration.

"Um, nothing," Natasha says, that is obviously a lie, but if she won't tell you what's on her mind, you won't push it.

"Okay, well, good night," you respond, cringing at the awkwardness but not wanting to dwell on it.

While you fall asleep in record time, Natasha lies awake, holding you tightly as she stares at the back of your head. The thought that she can' t be a proper alpha to you, simply because she is not equipped with the right body parts, is infuriating and saddening to her. Not that you had ever complained once or saw her as any less than the male alphas, but Natasha had an internal struggle every time you begged to be knotted and she simply...couldn't.

She didn't know what to do, but she had thought about enlisting the help of some of her colleagues. As awkward as the request would be, maybe it would help her self-esteem and you would be so pleased with the result.

So the next morning, Natasha goes off to have the most awkward conversation of her life with Tony Stark.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is practically vibrating with excitement as she carries you to your bedroom. Even you can sense her amped up emotions as you wrap your arms around her, kissing her hard and sloppily.

"Are you okay, babe?" you ask, breaking away for a breath while pulling your clothes off at the same time.

"Yeah, I'm just happy I get to be with you," she says, taking off her shirt, then her sweatpants. When she drops her pants, you gasp at the sight of her new strap. The color matches her skin tone exactly, almost looking like an actual extension of her body and you can't help but lick your lips at the thought of it being inside of you. It's a little smaller than the one she normally uses, but thicker to make up for it. Your core aches around nothing.

"Like what you see, baby?" Natasha says, grasping her cock and stroking it. "I had it specially made..." She debates on whether or not to tell you the truth of the toy's origins, but feels like it might ruin the mood now.

"It looks so good on you," you pant, hooking your hands around her thighs and pulling her onto the bed with you.

"It'll look better inside you," Natasha responds with a smirk, trying to contain a moan when her hand reaches her tip. It was a little strange and first to be able to "feel" with the faux cock, but now she's eager to stick it inside of you and experience you in a way she never has before.

As Natasha hovers over you, you instinctively reach for her cock and she gasps so loud when you touch it, you recoil your hand as if you've hurt her.

"Nat?" you ask.

"No, it's okay, baby. Touch me again," Natasha says, and you wrap your hand around her cock, causing her whole body to shudder. "I can feel it," she admits, dropping her head to press her forehead against yours. "I'll finally be able to feel you, baby. And properly knot you."

A thousand thoughts of curiosity fill your head, like where in the world she managed to get a strap like this, but now your only concern is getting her inside you. Although Natasha had never disappointed you in bed, your heart rate skyrockets at the thought of her getting to feel you and knot you. It seemed almost too good to even be real.

"Does this feel good?" you ask, jerking her cock off a little awkwardly, mostly because you don't have much experience. Maybe that would change soon.

"Yes," she whispers, her hips moving jerkily every time your thumb swipes over the tip of her cock. "Keep going, baby."

Even though you're stroking a silicone toy, you swear it feels like it's throbbing in your hand. Maybe it wasn't such a gimmick after all.

"Okay, stop, stop," Natasha says suddenly, afraid she's going to burst. She swats your hand away, her stomach clenching almost uncomfortably to hold herself back. She pushes you to lay down fully, carefully positioning her cock at your entrance. "Ready, baby?"

"I need you, Nat," you whine. "I need my alpha."

Natasha holds her breath as she slides into you with ease, almost collapsing on your chest when your hot walls wrap around her, holding her in a tight grip like she's never been before. "Oh, God. Oh fuck, Y/N..."

It feels different having her inside of you like this, almost like you can feel her throbbing.

"I want you to knot me, Nat," you beg, reaching up to lock your hands around her back to hold her close.

"I will, baby. Hold on." Natasha starts jerking her hips in broad strokes, obsessed with the way you clench and squeeze around her. She pushes in until she can't see any of her cock anymore, but the subtle bulge of your stomach, and the fire of arousal burns through her veins. She leans over to lick and nip at the mating mark on your neck, slamming into you with powerful thrusts.

You moan at the sensation of being filled so deeply, Natasha soothing the ache of emptiness in your loins with each thrust.

"Knot me, Nat, please," you whimper, scratching down her back. You can sense her desperation and need, feel her desire as she twitches inside of you, her size seemingly growing as the knot at the base of her cock starts to inflate.

You can't believe this is about to happen, as Natasha grunts and groans into your ear, promising to fill you with her pups and knot you properly for the first time in your life. You're awash with bliss as she thrusts into you strongly, holding you down as her body starts to tremble as she empties her seed into you. There is an almost painful stretch in your core and you look down to see the base of her cock fit snugly into your pussy, preventing any of her cum from spilling out of you like it normally does.

The pressure in your stomach is too much and you are too aroused to hold back anymore, tipping your head back into the pillows and moaning as you gush around her cock. It feels like a lifetime of pure ecstasy as you lay there, Natasha fully connected with you. You don't ever want it to end.

"My perfect omega," Natasha whispers, stroking your hair as she tries to calm down from her own high. "I love you so much." Today was a complete success in her book, and she can't wait to knot you over and over again in the future.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[whoseholtz]

if i could tell her | will smith

pairing : will smith x fem!reader

warnings : the BRIEFEST mention of being drunk underage, cursing, situationships (ick), reader is a theater kid, use of y/n, dear evan hansen, kissing, but just sickening fluffiness mainly <3

summary : will finally plucks up the courage to tell y/n he wants their relationship be more than just casual, and when he tries confessing he unintentionally quotes dear evan hansen

word count : 2.5k

Y/N and Will had been casually ‘going out’ for around a month now, but due to their conflicting schedules, they rarely got time alone together. Whenever either party had ever felt like they had the right moment to attempt at confessing, something always seemed to come up, or in many cases, ruin the moment.

The previous Monday, Will was quite literally seconds away from finally, officially, asking Y/N out. But do you know what happened? Gabe interrupted; the moment was perfect, and his teammate had ruined it.

Will attempted not to seem phased by it and tried to move on, but he still felt a hint of bitterness in his stomach when he thought back to that day.

However, the failed attempts aside, Will was determined that today was the day; in a few hours, Y/N would be his girlfriend and he would be her boyfriend. At least that was the hope.

Everything was planned out; that very night was Y/N’s first performance in front of a sold-out audience as Evan Hansen in BC’s production of DEH. He was so proud of her to be able to land the main role in the musical, nevermind that it was a usually male-dominated part to have.

Will has spent hours with her rehearsing, reading lines back and forth to help her learn them perfectly and not mess up. The girl had already known the entire musical by heart, but conditioning yourself to then only play one role was actually quite difficult, something she found out rather quickly.

While the boy wouldn't admit it, he actually enjoyed the soundtrack and found himself listening to the songs in his day-to-day life, even on the way to training.

On one particular occasion, he’d been walking to the rink on his own before Gabe and Ryan had joined him, and due to the noise canceling on his headphones, he hadn't realized until Ryan had nudged him in the side lightly, he'd jumped and paused his music.

This led to him being asked what he was listening to, and without really thinking, he’d replied, “Oh, just Dear Evan Hansen, you know.” Needless to say, he’d been teased for being a theater kid multiple times since then.

This musical had somewhat become a shared passion between Will and Y/N, and even though the hockey player wasn't directly involved in the production, he still felt as though he had become a part of the family that was the cast and crew. Most of his time was taken up by hockey, but that didn't stop him from popping in and helping wherever he could.

Ironically, the group had always referred to Will as “Y/N’s boyfriend," and every time either of them tried to remind anybody that they weren't official yet, eyes would be rolled and unconvinced looks would be pointedly given. So, maybe it was about time they could make the nickname accurate.

Special. That’s what he wanted this to be: special. It was all planned out to be just that, and with the night that it was going to be, Will thought it was no better timing than the present.

Smiling to himself, he thought about the fact that, if all went to plan, he could be cheering from the audience for his girlfriend, not just whatever he was supposed to call her right now.

Presently, Will stood at the entry to the block of dorms Y/N stayed in. He had asked his teammates to help pick an outfit for him and hoped it would impress the girl he was hoping to sweep off her feet.

He wore his favorite suit, a maroon-red color similar to the colors of Boston College itself, with a matching tie and white shirt. Perhaps it was cliche; the more he thought about it, the worse those concerns made him worry, but he brushed the thoughts out of his mind, watching the doorway with anticipation.

In his hands, he held a sweet bouquet of flowers—pink tulips, to be exact. No, he couldn't confirm they were her favorite flower, but he always associated her with the flowers. The first time he looked on her Instagram, the emoji in her bio stood out to him immediately.

He had accidentally admitted this fact to the old lady who owned the local florist, but instead of laughing at him, the lady smiled with a twinkle in her eye, muttering something affectionately along the lines of “young love.”

A creak from the door in front of him swiftly took him back to his current situation, and he looked up, his voice catching in his throat for a moment. In front of him was a flustered Y/N, and Will truly felt like the luckiest person in the world.

“Hi!” the girl squeaked out enthusiastically. "Sorry, I took a little longer than you probably expected; I couldn't find my key,” she explained, looking slightly guilty.

“It’s no problem; genuinely, I would’ve waited hours if you needed me to.” Will spoke sweetly. Y/N took it as a dramatic use of hyperbole, but in the boy’s mind, he was speaking nothing but the truth. “These are for you,” he added, handing the bouquet of tulips to the girl. “I didn't know which flowers you liked, but, uh, these reminded me of you.”

“They're gorgeous! And... pink tulips are actually my favorite; you must be psychic.” or maybe he just looked at her Instagram too many times—the same difference, really. Y/N was sure that her heart rate was about 1000 beats per minute, but she calmed herself down with some deep breaths.

“Could I?” She gestured her head between the flowers and the hallway she had just appeared from, asking if she could go and put the flowers back in her dorm, and Will nodded, silently sighing in relief at a moment to get himself together.

After a few minutes, Y/N got back, and Will offered his arm for her to take. She did as prompted, and he led her onward. The first part of his plan was in motion; phew, now all he had to do was not mess up the date or the whole part where he was going to ask Y/N to be his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, part of the plan had Will relying on his friends. Yes, he trusted them, but he still anxiously awaited what he was going to be presented with when they arrived at the park.

He had spent all morning preparing a picnic basket of foods for their date; he’d even taken a trip to a store to buy a wicker basket and a red check blanket to fully complete the aesthetic.

Yet, he was (thankfully) pleasantly surprised when, as he brought the girl through the park, his picnic was perfectly set out for their date. He’d need to remember to thank the boys later. Will looked at Y/N, nervous for her reaction, to see what could only be described as pure joy painted across her expression.

“Will! This is so cute,” she let out a squeal of awe. “You didn't have to; oh my gosh, this is so cute.” She promptly wrapped her arms around the boy, kissing him on the cheek in excitement. His cheeks lit up at this, because while she’d kissed him on the cheek before, it never stopped feeling like the first.

They sat together in the afternoon sun, engaged in conversations about many topics ranging from hockey to Taylor Swift, but somehow, the topic of Dear Evan Hansen had not come up yet, which Will sort of wanted it to, so he could approach what he’d been waiting to say for a long while now.

“And then the show's tonight, and like Ms. Laynor said, we could have a few hours to ourselves before we had to get ready for the opening, right? But she never specified what time we needed to be at the theater, so I just thought four hours before was good, you know. Arrive at 4 p.m. in time for the show at 8, perfect!” Y/N ranted on slightly, but Will listened intently, nodding in agreement with her decision.

“Yeah, I think four hours is good, and if she needs you before then she can always message you.” Will reassured the girl, his eyes twinkling affectionately at the passion she held for the theater. Just seeing the smile that graced her face made the boy know this was it—this was the time he was going to do it. He wasn't sure why he knew, but the moment felt right. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“There's really nothing like your smile; have I ever told you that? It's sort of subtle, but real, and it's perfect." Will started; he had a habit of talking with his hands, and as he spoke, it was highlighted. “And I don't think you know how amazing seeing your smile can make someone feel—can make me feel!”

Y/N watched him talk, stunned and speechless as Will confessed what he had never had the guts to speak out loud before. “And I know that when you're bored in class, you start doodling in the margin of your books, and I noticed that you annotate your books with a pen when you see something you like.”

Admitting this took bravery, but honestly speaking, the boy still hadn't come to terms with the fact that this was actually real.

“But I’ve kept it all inside; I haven't said it to you. I’ve wanted to, seriously, but I couldn't seem to talk to you about it; I couldn't find a way, and I didn't know if we were on the same page because sometimes it feels like we're a million worlds apart, so it was like, where am I meant to start? And how do I say it?"

He took a long breath before he said the most important part, “I love you.”

That was it; he’d done it; he’d said it. There was no taking it back now. He felt close to exploding as he looked directly into her eyes for the first time since he’d started talking. Y/N looked close to crying. Will could only hope that was positive, but the demons in his head only told him of the rejection that was coming.

“Will. I don't know what to say. He braced himself for the harsh reality check he feared was building. “That's the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Wow. I love you too, seriously.”

He deflated, “I get it,” before his mind fully comprehended what he’d just heard. “Wait, what?” His previously crestfallen body language perked up instantly. Did she seriously say what he thought she had? Surely he had to be dreaming, and resisting the urge to pinch himself to check was becoming increasingly difficult.

“I love you too,” she smiled. “And I think if I hadn't already been, the fact you just quoted Dear Evan Hansen to tell me how you felt would've made me fall in love on the spot.” She said it meaningfully; his words had been quotes from a song, yet somehow, everything he said felt raw and honest, like he had written the song about her.

With the realization of what he’d done, Will groaned inwardly, “Fuck, there's no way I plagiarized my confession of love from Dear Evan Hansen. I’m so embarrassing.” He knew the words had been too smooth to be completely his own, but of all the things he had to quote from, It was the musical his girlfriend was going to perform in a few hours.

“What? No, you aren't! You genuinely don't know how much it means. You spent so much time helping me rehearse for the performance when you didn't have to, when we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, but you did anyway. And you memorized the lyrics, and now you're quoting the songs when you tell me you love me.”

Y/N looked at him with an expression of pure adoration and said, “You're not embarrassing at all; you're just possibly the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

“I never meant it in a bad way that it was quotes from there. I mean, you changed it so it would fit me; that's just about the most thoughtful thing in the history of things. It was personal, to me and to us; that's what matters.” and she was extremely serious when she said that.

The idea that someone she'd fallen in love with cared at all about her passions meant everything, and then for the love to be requited felt like a million years of joy all at once. The boy felt the same, along with a major sense of relief and, well, a hint of lingering embarrassment.

“I’m glad, wow. I’ve been waiting so long to finally tell you this. I can't even believe it's just happened and that you actually like me back, and all the rejection scenarios I imagined were stupid.” He was cut off by the pressing of a kiss on his lips.

“Shut up,” she mumbled affectionately against his lips, smiling slightly into the kiss. Any of their previous fluttering, drunk kisses were forgotten at this moment; the passion after months of mutual pining solidified this as the first kiss, not just for them as a couple but for them as people too.

They continued for a few seconds before both of them lay down on the blanket, somewhat starstruck, letting the situation completely settle in their minds. It was a comfortable silence as they replayed the moment in their heads like a film reel.

It had gotten to 4 p.m. and Y/N had left for the theater. Will spent the time he had between then and the show in a few hours processing everything that had gone down. It honestly shocked him that he’d ever followed through with the plan to begin with.

Fast forward to the performance. Will sat in one of the closest rows to the stage, excited to watch Y/N perform a project she’d been working on for so long. Personally, he was extremely impressed; the entire cast had worked their asses off, and it was definitely worth it.

While Will had listened to the soundtrack, he’d never seen the full musical performed, and seeing it there was something special, especially knowing how much it meant to the people on stage. As the production came to an end and the cast performed their curtain call, the audience gave them a standing ovation.

Y/N, as the title character, got her own turn to bow and take in the true feeling of the audience clapping for you and cheering for you. The feeling was indescribable, but at that time she felt on top of the world, lost in the moment, at a peak in her life.

She was grinning ear to ear as she met the eyes of Will in the crowd, and this somehow prompted the hockey player to shout, “That’s my girlfriend!” at the top of his lungs.

Needless to say, he was extremely embarrassed that he'd said that out loud, but it got his point across in a pretty public way, no doubt about that. Y/N laughed slightly before the rest of the cast joined back into a line with her, taking their final bows as the curtain closed, the show ending.

a/n :: thank you for reading!! the formatting ended up a bit weird and i had to reupload this bc tumblr decided to bully me and not submit this to tags... but hopefully it works now and i hope you enjoyed :3

[0nlyhere4phil]

Rating All of Dab and Evans New Outfits (except the randomized ones)

Starting with Dabs Everyday:

Um. No this was not the serve they thought it was. First things first I hate the silver, it makes no sense, Phil doesn't have silver hair. Next THE BOOTS! THE BOOTS ARE FOUL THEY DON'T GO WITH ANYTHING! This look would have been acceptable if it wasn't for those fucking boots. The sweater is good and the pants were fine (should have gone with green though), but those boots ruined it. Overall 5/10. They took my boys drip away.

Next His Formal:

This had potential to be something good. I don't hate the idea of the outfit, but the way they executed it was horrible. They needed to change the shoes, add some makeup, and some accessories THEN this would have been camp. If the shirt was a white and not pink it would have been nicer. If they had tied in the green or blue into other parts of the outfit it would have been a look, but honestly this might as well be randomized. No thought was put into it in my opinion. Overall a 4/10

Next His Swimwear:

It's fine. At first I thought it didn't make sense for Dab to be wearing something like this, but actually it makes a lot of sense LOL. So yeah this one is fine. 6/10

Next His Hot Weather:

What the fuck? At least the colors go together, but other than that it's bad. If they had made the shirt a more fitting one, maybe like a tank top, it would have been good. For the shoes...why did they keep those? They could have just put him in some plane white shoes or slides, but they put him in those. I'll give it to them they do match the color scheme, but other than that it's a flop. Overall this is just a mess 3/10

Next His Cold Weather:

This is actually fine. The only complaint I have is I wish they made the shoes a black boot, but other than that this works. 9/10

That's it for Dab. I'm sad they took his boho artsy aesthetic away. Moving on to Evan.

Evans Everyday:

This is great! I love his new hair a lot, I'm glad they stuck to a good color pallet, and I'm glad they let his ankles breathe. Literally the only thing I would have done is choose a shirt without the hand coverings, but that's just a nitpick. For Dan and Phil this was a really good cohesive fit. 10/10

Next His Formal Wear:

Another serve from Evan Pancakes. The only thing that would have made this perfect was if the pants were darker, but other than that it's still a really good look. 9.5/10

Next His Sleepwear:

Nothing much to really say other than it's sleepwear. I do like how he has a cohesive color pallet going on. Overall it's cute 7/10

Next His Party Wear:

This is really cute. I like the top, I love the nails, the pants could have been better but they're not hurting my eyes, and he has accessories! The only thing that irks me is the shoes, I feel like they don't match the rest of the outfit. Other than the shoes though this outfit is quite cute. 8.5/10

Next His Swimwear:

So, personally I feel like Evan wouldn't wear something like this. I feel like he would be a long trunk with a tank top kind of guy. It's not bad, because it's not much, but it's not good cause it just doesn't match Evan. 3/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Ummm no. Again I feel like this doesn't match Evans vibe. I like the color blue on him though. Other than that it's kind of a mess. Those flip flops don't match the rest of the fit, and the random glasses confuse me LOL. 2/10

Next His Cold Weather:

This is really nice. This matches his vibe perfectly. 9/10

That's it for Evan! Honestly they did a really good job on him.

So, that was Dab and Evans new wardrobe, it could have been better it could have been worse. Depending on how this is received and on if I really wanna do it, I'll make one of these for the Howlters.

[httpsdana]

Gavi one where she’s feeling really insecure and comparing herself to others because she’s not the tiniest girl and he just showers her with love

Insecure~Pablo Gavi

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

A reminder that everyone reading this is absolutely beautiful and i love you all so much 💋💞

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers i write for

y/n wasn't the tiniest girl ever. She had some fats in her belly, and for her, her thighs where way too big. For her, her face was too round and her cheeks were too chubby. For her she was too much.

Feeling insecure since you were a child only makes it more traumatic when you grow up. You carry that guilt with you until it becomes unbearable. And when you finally start feeling good about yourself, or when you finally accept yourself as you are, something ruins it and takes you back to zero, where you're standing in front of the mirror, and pointing out every imperfection you can see in your appearance, and body.

That was the case with y/n. Growing up as a child she was always bullied for her body. She never felt good about herself. Reaching high school you would say the bullying stopped, but it didn't. It only became worse. That's why when she met Gavi after her graduation, she thought he was just there to make fun of her or something.

She pushed him away thinking that its better than getting attached. But his desire to make this broken girl his won, and there they are happiest as ever.

Well that was until Pablo decided go post a picture of them. They had always been the pribate couple. They only posted pictures where their faces don't appear, just pictures of their hands interwined, or one where their backs are to the camera with his arms around her.

But this picture was on another level. It was a picture of them at one of their friend's wedding. She had a slightly tight dress on, and her stomach was bloated and on display, her hair was out of place and her lipstick was ruined. Her shoulders looked too broad and her smile was awkward. Everything seemed wrong.

Although she knew it was a bad thing to do, she opened the comment to see what people thought about it, and it seemed like everyone had the same opinion as her.

nah look at that double chin 💀🤣

gurl should've gotten a bigger size 😬

is gavi actually dating her-

ain't no way literal models exist and he's with her 💀

i wonder if he's forced to date her or smth

Tear streamed down her face like a river. She didn't think these comments would affect her that much...but they did. She knew people will not like her, but she didn't think she would get more criticism than she did back in high school.

She locked her phone and covered her face with her hands, trying to calm herself down by taking a few breathes.

Maybe if i had blonde hair Pablo would like me more? or colored eyes? he probably thinks I'm too basic for him. or too fat. why is he even still with me? so he can leave me when he's bored? or when he finds a model that's suitable for him?

These thoughts ran through her head, only drowning her even more. She thought that maybe scrolling through tiktok would keep her mind off what she just saw.

Oh how wrong she was. The only videos she saw showed pictures of Pablo with pretty girls, or from his last meet and greet, girls all over him, some giving him their instagram and others their number.

What made it worse was seeing Pablo keep the papers with him. And the caption are all the same thing about Pablo deserving a prettier girl.

She threw her phone across the room and burst into tears. She didn't think it would hurt this much, but it did.

"you scared the hell out of me! why didn't you open the door when i knocked?!" Pablo barged in the room, making her flinch and the sound of the door

Only when he saw her puffy eyes and wet cheeks, his face softened but showed worry instead

"are you okay mi amor? why are you crying what happened?" he asked in a soft voice

He tried wrapping his arms around her but she only pushed him away and tried to stop her sobbing

"y/n.. what's wrong?" he asked, hurt evident in his voice and his eyes

"why are you with me Pablo? are you still here to make fun of me? why are you not with a model or something like literally every other football player? why are here with me? a normal basic fat girl with chubby cheeks and huge thighs and an ugly smile and a-" her sentence was interrupted by Pablo pressing his lips on hers

"y/n baby why are you saying that? you know i adore you. I'm literally so in love you that I can't even look at any other girl. I would die for you my love. Why would i want a model when i have you? a pretty, smart, super adorable, and an amazing chef as my girl. why would i want a girl who only cares about what she wears or how she looks or what she owns. I only want you sweetheart. I only love you and only what to have you in my arms every night. I don't know why you think i would leave you. you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I don't know what made you feel this way, but please don't ever think that low of yourself. I'm so proud of you and i love you so so much" he said in a soft tone, his hands holding her face and wiping her tears with his thumbs. He kissed her tears away and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

She managed to give a small smile. Her stomach erupting with butterflies at the sweet words said by her boyfriend. She felt the genuine love they shared and the sincerity in his voice.

"I don't deserve you. you're amazing. i love you so much" she whispered, wrapping her arms round his torso and laying her head on his chest

"please don't say that. I'm the one who's lucky to have you in my life"

[overlyspecific]

Part 9 of Merlin Hood

Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Sorry last part was a little long! this one is a bit shorter.

Morgana looks out her window down at the courtyard for what must be the fourteenth time in an hour. She curses herself for not accompanying Gwen to warn Merlin. Merlin is her friend as well but more than that, she is beside herself with worry for her… well servant is probably the most accurate description, but Gwen has always been more than that, more than even a friend really.

Regardless, she cares about Gwen and Merlin both, but she made the choice to stay to keep them safer in the first place. If she were missing, Uther would stop at nothing to track her down, so it was a lot better if Gwen warned Merlin alone. It didn't stop her worrying about them though. Morgana goes to the window again.

The sun had set a few minutes ago leaving the last light remaining a crimson color across the sky and it casted long shadows on the ground. Emerging from one of those long shadows at the edge of a courtyard was a familiar shape. Morgana let out a sigh of relief. Gwen was safe and sound, nothing to worry about.

Before Morgana could run down and envelope Gwen in a fierce hug, she noticed another figure following close behind Gwen. It wasn’t Merlin, the figure was filled out with muscles too much to be their scrawny underfed sorcerer friend. No, it must have been one of his forest crew she’d met a couple of times. Lancelot, she thought his name was.

Lancelot was escorting Gwen into town and ducking behind walls when guards passed. Something Morgana couldn’t put a name to filled her chest at seeing him along side Gwen. Then, she saw Gwen’s radiant smile which was reserved for her closest friend and Morgana clenched the side the window opening.

Morgana: *aloud* Oh, no. This is not good.

Morgan laid her head in her hands. Her feelings always had the worst timing.

In another area of the forest, Gwaine traveled alone wacking at tall grass with a stolen sword.

Gwaine: *shouting* Merlin!

No answer came to Gwaine and so he continued on. He had checked the three open caves on the north side of the forest to no avail. Most rock formations in the forest were too small to store someone without anyone seeing but he checked them anyway. If Merlin was still in the forest, the only place he could be was the ruins on the east side of the forest.

Gwaine both hoped and didnt hope that Merlin was there. If he was, that would mean that someone went through a great deal of trouble to hide him away for a reason which meant probably a lot of pain but a possibility he was still alive. If he wasn’t there than that meant that whoever took him could have took him beyond the forest and even out of the kingdom. If that was the case they may never see him alive again.

Gwaine shook his head to clear his thoughts. Negative thoughts were not going to help him. He needed to get to the ruins and find Merlin.

Unfortunately, the sun had beat down on him all day and even though having ale in his water skin was fun while it lasted, now he was sufficiently dehydrated. Fortunately, Gwaine had stumbled into a clearing with a large lake to one side.

Gwaine: Great, now I just need to find a river that feeds into- What the actual hell!

The rest of Gwaine’s thought is cut of by his, admittedly not very manly, scream. From the water a mere few feet away, a man showered in the last bit of golden light emerges dripping out the lake. He looks in every way an immortalized warrior complete with a glowing sword emanating pure power. The man turns to Gwaine and raises the sword.

Arthur: Someone very dear to me is in trouble and you are going to help me find him.

Gwaine: Look, man, normally I would love to help you, but I’m actually looking for someone myself. So, if you could put the magic sword down I’ll just be on my way.

Arthur: The person I am looking for is very powerful. If you help me, he will be able to help you find your friend. Plus this sword will lead us right to him.

Gwaine takes in the man once more. He isn’t wearing any armor but that does nothing to hide the fact that this man is clearly a very strong and talented fighter. Gwaine also doesn’t know who is keeping Merlin but they must be pretty powerful if they can keep Merlin subdued, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little backup on his side.

Gwaine: Fine, I will help you but we have to be quick. I don’t know how long my friend can wait.

Arthur: *smiling and holding out a hand* Great! Then, its settled.

The two shake hands and set off into the woods following the glowing magic of excalibur.

Some fun stuff in this part! I’ve introduced a couple love triangles, so sorry about that but I couldn’t resist. Next part will contain some hilarity of Arthur and Gwaine realizing that they are both looking for Merlin. The reason Gwaine doesn’t recognize Arthur is because in this AU, Merlin always meets with Arthur alone to flirt but also to keep his forest crew safe from being recognized and captured later. There might be the introduction of a few characters I haven’t included yet in the next few parts so get ready for that!

[pruneunfair]

Ranking all the OI and manhwa I've read part 2: the moderate.

The decent stories. Just a little better than average

The tyrants only perfumer

My favorite fast food webcomic to this very day. It's characters are tolerable and there's just something some satisfying looking at the perfume bottles, the little bottles remind me of those DIY kits they'd sell at target. That being said it's still a fast food manhwa, the characters are flat, the plot goes too quick and the villains are easily defeated so as much as I enjoy it when I just want to read something quick and light, it's not a good option for something more serious.

The empress wants to avoid the Emperor.

This was actually one of my very first manhwas I've ever read. I thought it was one of the greatest stories ever told when I was still in my revenge phase and it's definitely not terrible when I reread but it's not the greatest piece of literature either. Still for a basic revenge story at least Louise actually gets away her fuckass husband.

Tears of a withered flower

I like it, just not as much as everyone else likes it. I've already made a few posts on it and my current opinions still stay the same but besides all the self insert this and the predictable that the dialog definitely improves from cartoony to poetic. I'm just hoping the rampant misogyny problem in TOAWF is only a fandom problem and not something the author is planning on incorporating into every other woman that isn't Hae Soo

I will divorce the female leads brother

Okay I won't lie this one is kinda funny given how it calls out the absurdity of protagonist centered morality in a better way. Ethel as a protagonist is okay as protagonists go and while the villains are played off as stupid thats because the story actually plays into how idiotic they are instead of claiming they are the smartest around when they aren't, specifically the brothers and father. Also the Og fl of this one has by far the ugliest designs I've ever seen. It's the kind of design where you can tell the artist did not like her at all and gave her the Miku special with those unflattering color combos. I think the weirdest part is the implied incestuous feelings the family has for Reina but once again, it's meant to be seen as vile so it gets a little pass.

Into the light once again

The pain I went through when I realized the 14 year old Aisha was being paired up with guys way to old her with this one because it was so good before it just ruined what could've been 😔. Outside of the obvious I adore both Aisha and Marianne as polar opposites and characters that aren't immediately nice or honesty to Aisha aren't put to death, for the most part at least, they are allowed to grow as better people and get character development. The magic system is pretty easy to remember though I think Aisha can sometimes get too deep in her "super powerful nice girl" archetype but it's not to the point of being awful.

The empresses lipstick

more of a comedy than a traditional rofan but it works, it's one of the first I've seen to get the rococo style a little bit better than others. (It's still not the greatest accuracy but since it's meant to be silly it has more leeway) however it sadly is brought down by the fact that Jane is heavily implied to be on the younger side when her mom bugs her about school and implies that she'll be going INTO high-school implying she's 15-16 based on Korean school systems and she's already being paired up to marry male leads older than her.. damn you age gap trope and damn you 18th century for reminding me of gross yet true history. If it weren't for the fact that I can't remember anything about the ML's age this would be lower.

The villainess turns the hourglass.

What I think of when someone asks me to think of the OG era for manhwa. The concept of the hourglass is easy to follow and it actually comes with a drawback so Aria can't be too overpowered, the bright colors make it all pop and having an actual villain for the FL in a villainess story ties it all in, people can complain about how awful she is but villainess is literally in the title so..you get what you bargained for. There are still cons though about it I don't care for, first of all I wish Mielle could be an actual threat so there would be a fun ongoing mental battle between two evil women, Isis and Mielle could've been smarter as a duo, Asher could've had a little more personality and the twist that Aria was actually of noble descent all along really killed the charm of her being a commoner who could prove she was just as smart as the aristocracy.

Perks of being the villainess

Deborah's already climbing up the ranks of one of the prettiest FL in my opinion because that shade of purple is DIVINE! The plots rather basic as most villainess manhwa tend to go. Deborah is hated by everyone except instead of a backstory claiming she's misunderstood, the og Deborah was actually an asshole to everyone she met except for Pilav so it gave her an actual obstacle. I do think some of them went too fast but I'm just glad we actually got to see the effort being done at all. I'll admit this was better then I thought so it moved up on my tier list. My only complaints are that the chapters can sometimes drag on and on to the point of being bottle episodes.

I shall master this family

I would like this so much more but it drags on so much! Florentia was nice at first but as the chapters went on and on I was less impressed and just thinking "yeah this is just getting boring" with how many times you know she's gonna best her opponents, don't hate her but shes becoming a little too meh right now. That said I like reading it, definitely suffering from a overpowered MC that could use some work but when it comes to politics it's so much more interesting if you can get past that one major issue.

Pretty good: almost better then average but I either haven't read all of it to place it higher or if there's just better

I will become the villains poison taster

I love my underrated girlie's ✊️ the plot is certainly unique, Giselle has the strange of ability of being not only immune to poison but the poison also tastes like fruity snacks/drinks. It deserves a little more traction then what it gets, the ML Reniel actually has emotions instead of stoicism plus actual critical thinking skills because the FL acts nothing like the OG villainess and Giselle, despite how it may seem, isn't the born sexy yesterday trope, she's just allowed to be a sweet heart while still being a person. It's not much but it's still pretty good.

Serena

Fashion and character designs are absolute peak but plot comes before art. At first I was pretty harsh on Serena but when I actually read more of it to form a more concrete opinion I realized it's not the worst and actually got a little entertaining. As a FL Serena isn't bad, I like that she comes across as a nepo baby who needs to work hard to uphold her predecessors legacy so we have flaws to work with here and at the very least the story seems to be kinda self aware that Serena isn't a terrific person. It's also a drama not a romance so while I don't like either Eiser or Frederick as love interests at least Serena can say the romance isn't supposed to be the center of the plot.

Your throne

After so many people telling me how good it was I finally caved in and began reading last week but I already got spoiled so I know most of what happens. Obviously I like the fact that Medea and Psyche actually team up instead of hating eachother and even though it's through spoilers Psyche is my favorite. It's so dang long though it's probably gonna be a while before I make any your throne related posts. Only cons is it can sometimes get too boring to follow.

Seducing the villains father

Proof you can make a stereotypical rofan and it can still work. Yerenica is the perfect balance of girl failure and likeability where her flaws are very common for most people and yes while she is kinda dumb she's not so dumb it makes me wanna slam my head against the wall. Erudian is pretty good as ML's are concerned, just a tad basic and the villain Soleia isn't dumbed down either. Love the second half of the story which gives a little more focus on Yenis family instead of just her love life and while it does get cringe inducing and the plot tracks off from time to time, I still like it.

The crownless queen

The FL is a recently retired history expert who transmigrated in her daughters inaccurate novel and because of those inaccuracies, there are new problems to face while Delia has to survive in a world where Barons and Dukes are switched and she has to climb to social latter. There's little things that really prove how much thought was put into it (such as Delia not knowing the exact date in time shes set in since she's in a different world)

Beware of the villainess.

A little similar to your throne but it keeps my attention longer then the former. Once again women working together instead of being forced into enemies! Really like that! The Yuri baiting though? Boo 👎, don't tease the audience like that (especially considering the og fl is literally called Yuri) can be over the top but I think that's what makes it stand out, it means to be funny and in your face with Melissa's antics but the best character by far is Yona, home girl just wants that check and I can understand that feeling.

Another typical fantasy romance

I gotta stop procrastinating and finish this one!! 😭 first off, Pellus is my 2nd favorite ML with his design being my number 1 favorite in terms of character design. For once we have an actual cold duke who accurately looks intimidating instead of basic BTS member. Best part though: it is one of the greenest of green flag relationships to the point where Lithera and Pellus are worthy candidates to face off Pereshati and Therdeo in terms of who's the best manhwa couple. Actual communication instead of miscommunication that goes on for chapters, relationship actually has steady progression that's just in the middle of how they get to together and Lithera is a great FL. Then I found a bunch of other manhwa and forgot about this one until it came up in my head while I made my first tier list. It'll probably go up once I complete the story.

This one took longer then I expected but part 2 is finally out and now I have to start rereading for part 3.

[winterrrnight]

red carpets without you

PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you and drew have been dating for quite some time now, but have not brought your relationship for the public to see yet. Drew has the outer banks season 3 premiere to attend, so he goes without you. He misses you a lot at the premiere, but is completely satisfied with everything when he comes back home and gets to sleep in your arms.

WARNINGS: small mentions of cyber bullying and anxiety

EDITH SPEAKS: one of the biggest things I want to bring light on is how fans at times make their faves relationships uncomfortable. Please don't interfere with their personal lives, it's no matter to you. It's their life and they choose how to live it, and if they wish to be public about it or not. Please don't make their partners feel unloved and unwanted, the world is already a very harsh place, and that doesn't make it any better. Don't make assumptions on their relationships without any proper proof. Spread love and only love 💌🌷

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It is the evening of the Outer Banks season 3 premiere, and your boyfriend Drew is definitely going to be one of the main attractions of the event. He has been gone since early afternoon to prepare for the premiere and get ready, and you have been with him long enough to know that premieres can take a lot of time and he will be coming extremely late at night.

You and Drew have been reluctant to publicise your relationship. The thought of being recognised scares you, and even though Drew does have many supportive fans who will love you, the haters are always present around. You're afraid they will get to your head and make you believe made up stories about your relationship, ruining everything you have with Drew.

Today was one of the moments where you actually wished you could've gone with him. You absolutely adore the entire Outer Banks cast, and it would be nothing short of a spectacular night with them. Sometimes you do like to fantasize about you and Drew being public, you're in the most beautiful outfit and both of you are walking down the red carpet together, your hands intertwined. But you are quick to come back to reality when your mind shows you a scenario of you finding horrifying comments regarding you on a picture of you both, saying how you aren't the one for him and he's better off with someone else.

You remind yourself that the best place you can be at the moment is actually where you are right now: your couch, with a massive bowl of popcorn with you as you start watching the live stream of the premiere. You see all of the cast members walk in, looking beautiful as ever. You watch their interviews with utter love. They really are some of the best people.

Suddenly the cameras are directed towards Drew. He's wearing a dark blue suit, and you can't help but gape at how gorgeous he looks in that color. The fit of the suit is just perfect and he's getting his pictures clicked, his grace coming so effortlessly.

As Drew walks ahead on the carpet he's stopped by an interviewer. "Hello Drew, how are you feeling today?" The interviewer asks him.

"I'm good, super excited for everyone to see season 3," he says in the mic, smiling.

"What is Rafe like in the season? What will we get to see of him?"

"My lips are sealed for any information," he chuckles, "but he has done some... things." The interviewer laughs at his reply.

"Well Drew, is there anything you would like to say to your loved ones and your fans?"

"Thank you for all your constant support," he says, a big smile now on his face. "It makes me so happy to think how much everyone has been loving the show. Nothing is more fulfilling than watching your own hard work reaping you the big results."

At that moment, the interviewer ends his small talk with Drew and he walks on ahead on the carpet. The Twinkie is on the red carpet and watching Drew pose with it makes you giggle, as he goes inside it and looks out the window and gives a cheeky smile. The livestream goes on to show the interactions of the rest of the cast members with the interviewers and among themselves.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You suddenly wake up from your nap on your couch which you hadn't realised you had started taking. It takes a few seconds for you to realise what's happening; the popcorn bowl is now empty and is lying on your carpet upturned, and the live stream has ended. You check the time on your phone to see it's nearing 1.30 am at night. You had initially thought of staying up until Drew comes home, but your sleepy mind has different plans for you. Giving in, you decide to head in to your bedroom to go to sleep.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

The gentle sounds of shoes being placed on the ground and the rustle of clothes wakes you up from your sleep. You open your eyes groggily and turn around in bed to see Drew's back towards you, as he is getting into comfortable clothes for the night.

"Hey bubs, you're home?" You ask gently. Drew turns around and you can visibly see the tiredness in his eyes.

"Oh, love, yeah I just came home," He walks up to you and bends down at your level. "I didn't expect you to wake up. Go back to sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"No it's okay, how was it?" You ask, your eyes not fully open from the heavy sleep lying on them.

"It was really amazing. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow okay?" He gets up from the floor and disappears in the washroom. After a few minutes he comes back out, and lies in the bed next to you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull his head onto your chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you start to play with his hair with sleepy motions of your hands, as you both drift off to sleep.

Drew had missed you a lot on the premiere - a lot more than he thought he would. There were so many moments where he wished he was answering the interviewer's question with you on his side. Your presence calms his nerves down whenever he feels a bit anxious, and such massive premieres, especially for a show as famous as Outer Banks, tend to make him slightly nervous.

But he knows you both aren't ready to come out to the whole world. Not yet. The world can be harsh, and even the strongest soldiers fall on their faces from its adversities. What you have is something made for just the two of you, and even though at times it feels like it shouldn't be this way, you know that this is actually the best you can have. And you are completely satisfied with it.

Why wouldn't you be? Drew is yours, and you are his. And that's all that matters.

[solarmorrigan]

Steve crochets Eddie a scarf part 1, part 2, part 3, Ao3

-

Steve has heard of knitting circles, of course, but he’d never expected to be a part of one.

(Of course, since it’s just him, Joyce, and El, and none of them knit, it’s really more of a crocheting triangle – except for that one time Murray Bauman joined them; he knits, because of course he does, and that had made it into more of a mixed yarncraft square, but that doesn’t really roll off the tongue.)

He also hadn’t expected that the true purpose of a knitting circle (crocheting triangle) is not to better facilitate any kind of fiber crafting, but mostly to spend time snacking and gossiping.

He can’t say he really minds.

“So, Steve,” Joyce says, looking up from the baby blanket she’s been working on (one of her coworkers, Margey, is pregnant; she’s a nice young woman whose boyfriend doesn’t deserve her, and who very much hopes she’s having a girl, even though her boyfriend wants a son, so Joyce is making the blanket optimistically—or vindictively—pink. Steve loves that he knows all of this), “I never did ask – did that someone like their scarf?”

“Oh. Um.” He has no idea how to answer that. Eddie had definitely liked the scarf, had liked it enough to give Steve a gift in return—a very thoughtful one, actually—and then Steve had gone and ruined it and probably scared Eddie away forever, and maybe now Eddie wanted nothing to do with the scarf?

Steve really has no idea.

He’s probably been silent for too long, though.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they did. Thanks again for your help.”

Steve follows this statement with an incredibly nonchalant gulp of coffee, which is about when El turns to him and asks, “Who is ‘someone’? Did you finish a scarf for someone other than Eddie?”

Coffee is not air, and it does not belong in Steve’s lungs. Luckily, he only inhales a little bit of it, and manages to cough it out before Joyce feels the need to reach over and thump him on the back.

“No. Nope, just… just Eddie’s,” Steve rasps, decidedly not looking at the knowing smile that’s tucked itself up in the corners of Joyce’s mouth.

“Oh. Well, then he definitely likes it,” El says. “He’s wearing it every time I see him.”

“That sounds like a good sign,” Joyce says leadingly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve shrugs and focuses on his new project (Henderson’s scarf; it’s thinner than Eddie’s but broader, so it can be folded over, and he’s making it with colorful, variegated yarn).

“Are you going to ask him out?” Joyce asks.

Steve wonders if it’s possible to drown himself in his cup of coffee.

It doesn’t matter either way; El’s attention has already snapped back to him, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and she’d probably just find a way to drag him back from the dead.

“Are you?” El demands with a grin.

Abandoning his crochet hook, Steve reaches up to shove his fingers under his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose (he’s still getting used to the glasses; he doesn’t like wearing them, but they do help with his migraines, and Joyce makes disappointed Mom faces at him when he doesn’t wear them, so he at least brings them to the crochet triangle). “Probably not.”

He can hear the frown in El’s voice as she asks, “Why not?”

“Pretty sure I blew my chances there,” Steve sighs.

“What happened?” Joyce asks; when Steve lets his glasses fall back into place to chance a glance in her direction, she looks sympathetic.

It’s been about a week since Steve sent Eddie running from his house, and Steve hasn’t really had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it yet. Robin would usually be the first (and probably only) person to hear about it, but he hasn’t quite been ready for what he knows will be an entirely honest, but not entirely gentle, assessment of the situation.

El and Joyce are likely to be kinder, but it also feels a little weird to talk to them about his love life. Joyce has been more of a mother to him than his own ever was, and even though El is rapidly approaching sixteen, she’s still like nothing so much as a kid sister. Do people talk about this sort of thing with family members? Steve has no idea.

Whatever.

“He, uh. He actually brought me a gift,” Steve finally says, finding great interest in the view out the window behind Joyce. “Like, to say thank you for the scarf.”

Joyce nods encouragingly.

“What was it?” El asks.

“A, uh. A Hellfire shirt. For his little nerd club. Except he said that it’s our nerd club now because I’m a member, even though I don’t play.” Steve shrugs. “I guess because I do other stuff for them.”

“That sounds nice, Steve,” Joyce says, and Steve nods.

“It was. It is! It was really nice, and I wanted to show him I appreciated it, so I gave him a hug, right? And that was nice, too, and he returned it, and he – like, he seemed interested,” Steve’s on a roll now, there’s no stopping the car crash of words coming out of his mouth, of all the habits he had to pick up from Robin– “so, y’know, when he said he hoped he got the right size shirt, I said maybe I should try it on to make sure, and he said that was a good idea, and—I would like to reiterate, he really seemed interested—so I just, y’know, kinda took off my shirt right there. In front of him. To try the new one on. And I might’ve thrown the other one at him. And he left very quickly after that.”

Of all the reactions Steve had expected, Joyce laughing at him hadn’t been high on the list, but that’s exactly what she does. So hard she nearly falls out of her chair.

Steve watches her in open-mouthed shock for a moment before exclaiming, “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry!” Joyce gasps in between peals of laughter, flapping a hand at him. “Of course it isn’t!”

This draws a giggle out of El, and Steve turns to point a finger at her. “Don’t you start, too.”

El slaps a hand over her mouth, but it’s very clear that she, too, is laughing.

“I seriously think I scared him off!” Steve insists. “He ran out of there so fast he took my sweater with him. I liked that sweater.”

This only makes Joyce laugh harder, and Steve has no choice but to sit back on the couch with a huff and wait for the mirth to die out.

“Okay,” Joyce breathes, running a thumb under her eyes to catch the tears while El does her best to bite down on her smile. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m good now.”

Steve grumbles, picking his scarf back up, but he can’t say that he’s really that displeased; it’s nice, after everything, to hear everyone still laugh (and even if he’d prefer it not be at his expense, he doesn’t mind now and then).

“Do you want my advice, sweetie?” Joyce asks.

“Since I’m providing entertainment, it only seems fair,” Steve says, and Joyce snorts.

“Okay.” She abandons her chair and comes to perch on the arm of the sofa beside Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a one-armed hug that he doesn’t resist in the slightest. “You probably did come on a little strong.”

Steve sags a little against Joyce, and she’s quick to continue. “But! I really don’t think you ruined your chances. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting such an… immediate reaction, or maybe he was worried that he was misreading the situation–”

“How can you misread someone taking their shirt off?”

“People convince themselves of all sorts of things where love is involved,” Joyce says, rubbing Steve’s shoulder, and Steve mentally swaps out ‘love’ for ‘feelings,’ because he can’t think about love right now (not again, not yet). “But Eddie seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy; I’m sure he’d have told you if he wasn’t interested. You should just be honest with him. Talk to him.”

“But that’s not how it works,” El pipes up from Steve’s other side.

Steve and Joyce both look over, and El sets down the rainbow beanie she’s been working on (it has an absolutely excessive pompom on top, and Steve really hopes she’s planning to make Mike wear it), preparing to explain.

“In the movies,” El says earnestly, “that is not how it works. No one just talks about it, that’s… weird.”

Steve grins. El’s latest endeavor in pop culture education has been romcoms; she’s been devouring the entire section at Family Video, and Steve has taken great pleasure in offering her recommendations (Robin, meanwhile, insists he’s poisoning El’s mind with pre-packaged, heteronormative trash; Steve says Robin is just jealous that El doesn’t like her film recommendations; Robin tells Steve to go crochet a doily; then they get into an argument over the purpose of doilies—Robin insists they’re purely decorative, but Steve is certain they must have some kind of use—and forget about their original argument entirely).

“She has a point,” Steve says. “I can’t just go up to Eddie like, ‘Hey, sorry for sorta stripping in front of you, are we still cool, man?’ That would be really awkward.”

Joyce gives him a dry look. “Well you don’t have to phrase it like that.”

“Exactly!” Steve snaps his fingers, pointing at Joyce. “I can still talk to him, I just have to… you know, talk around it. Play it cool.”

El nods sagely. “Play it cool,” she echoes.

“See? El’s got me.” Steve grins, gesturing back at El for good measure.

“Okay.” Joyce holds her hands up, as if in surrender. “Apparently you guys know best. I’ll just take my advice and my happy relationship and go back to my chair.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, yeah, your method worked on Hopper, but I’m not trying to get with Hopper.”

“Ew.” El reaches over and gives Steve a shove. Joyce has a hand over her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh again.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Steve insists, and Joyce gives an affirmative hum that doesn’t really sound like she believes him at all.

But she will see. He’s just going to play it cool, Steve decides, as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and goes back to crocheting a scarf for a mouthy fifteen-year-old he has trouble saying ‘no’ to.

He’s totally cool.

-

Steve realizes as the phone starts ringing that maybe he should have come up with a plan before dialing Eddie’s number.

The thing is, Steve isn’t really much of a planner; he has an idea, he follows through with the idea. He can deal with the consequences of the idea when they arise.

Unfortunately, the consequence of his current idea is Eddie answering the phone, and it has just arisen.

“Hello?”

Steve blanks.

Greeting. He should greet Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie.”

Nice.

“Steve. Hey.” Eddie doesn’t sound displeased, but maybe a little higher pitched than normal. Nervous? Maybe that’s just the connection.

There is a moment of awkward silence in which neither of them says anything because Steve is the one who called and he hasn’t told Eddie what he called for, mostly because his idea had pretty much boiled down to ‘call Eddie, feel out the situation, but don’t talk about the thing.’

It’s Eddie who finally speaks, sounding more like himself when he asks, “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just calling to… check,” Steve pauses, briefly, thinking frantically, “what kind of snacks you wanted. For Friday.”

“…Friday.”

Steve’s stomach drops. Did Eddie actually want nothing to do with him now, or had he just forgotten?

“Yeah. You guys were planning to play over at my place this week. That’s… still a thing, right?”

“Right! Yes, yeah, it’s – yeah.” Steve can almost see Eddie nodding on the other end. “I just wasn’t sure you’d… want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Steve frowns; they are perilously close to talking about it.

“Uh. No reason, I guess? Didn’t want to make assumptions on your behalf,” Eddie says. “Y’know, sweep in and totally take over your house when you’re not feeling it, and then you’re standing there giving us invaders your best mom glare.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fond despite himself. “I do not have a mom glare,” he says (Eddie isn’t going to listen, just like no one else listens when he tries to tell them the same thing). “Anyway, how about you just tell me what you want to eat, huh?”

“Oh, you know me, I’m not picky,” Eddie says breezily. “I’ll eat whatever you want to feed me.”

“You know that means you’re not allowed to complain about what I pick, right?” Steve says, banishing the thought of actually feeding something to Eddie (but– flirting. Flirting is a good sign, right?).

“Not a peep. Cross my heart,” Eddie says, and Steve can’t help but smile in response to the way he’s certain Eddie must also be smiling right now.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, as if he doesn’t believe Eddie (and he doesn’t, really, because Eddie is pickier than he makes himself out to be, and he will complain if only to be a nuisance), and he wants to leave it there, leave it on that light note of banter, but– he also wants to be sure. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to wear the shirt?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well, it is standard club attire, Steve,” Eddie teases, and Steve gives in to a little huff of frustration.

He bites the bullet, decides to be just a little more direct. “Sure, but– do you want me to wear it?”

“I–” Eddie starts, stops, falls silent. Steve holds his breath. Then, finally: “Yeah. I really do.”

Steve sighs out into a grin. “Great. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Steve’s pretty sure he hasn’t had fucking butterflies in his stomach since maybe his junior year of high school, but damn if he doesn’t get them now, just thinking about the end of the week.

(He’s probably beyond pretending he’s anything like cool about this, but he’s surprisingly okay with that.)

-

Friday evening brings the promised onslaught of invaders, and Steve greets them at the door, the foyer filling with the squeaking of snow-wet shoes and the extended rustling of winter coats being shucked and shoved into the closet.

It’s the kids who come in first—just Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will tonight—chattering at each other and at Steve and making themselves right at home, as usual, but it’s the older Hellfire members who clock Steve’s shirt first. He can see the moment Jeff sets eyes on it, elbowing Gareth and nodding at Steve; Gareth snickers, which alerts Grant, who looks at Steve and rolls his eyes.

Steve raises his eyebrows at the three of them, but they don’t seem inclined to say anything. They don’t even seem that surprised.

Dustin, however, speaks up almost immediately upon noticing.

“Steve, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Steve retorts. “What are you wearing?”

Mike, now alerted to Steve’s choice in attire, looks utterly affronted. “Where the hell did you get that?” he demands.

“It was a gift, Wheeler, don’t burst a blood vessel,” Steve says, which does not seem to go a long way at all in getting the kid to chill out.

“The t-shirts are for Hellfire members only,” Mike says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Which is how we know Steve is a member,” Eddie says from the doorway, where he’s finally made it in from parking the van, his jacket still zipped and the scarf Steve made for him wrapped around his neck.

“He’s not, though!” Mike insists. “He doesn’t even play!”

Eddie hums, stepping fully into the foyer and shutting the door behind himself before making a show of looking around the room.

“Tell me, Wheeler: whose house are we in right now?”

Mike stares at Eddie, brows raised, not quite able to tell if he’s being asked a trick question or not. “Steve’s?”

“And who probably has snacks waiting in the kitchen for our ravenous horde?” Eddie goes on.

This time, Mike sighs. “Steve, but–”

Eddie cuts in. “And who gives those of you without the ability to legally operate a motor vehicle rides to and from club meetings whenever your little hearts desire?”

“Technically, we rode with Jeff and Grant tonight,” Dustin pipes up.

“Other club members! An excellent point, Henderson!” Eddie points to Dustin in agreement, who mostly looks baffled, if a little amused. “It’s a service we provide for each other.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but–”

“Now tell me, Wheeler,” Eddie rolls right over Mike’s protest, slinging an arm across his shoulders. “Who founded the Hellfire Club?”

“You did,” Mike says, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

“And who ultimately decides whether or not to grant membership to another person?”

“…You do.”

“And who, pray tell, has the ability to make tonight’s session very challenging for our party’s gallant paladin?” Eddie smiles, sharply saccharine in the face of Mike’s sour frown, and reaches up to pat Mike on the cheek when he doesn’t answer. “And don’t you forget it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better-fitting shirt, though?” Lucas asks Steve.

“It was a gift,” Steve reiterates. “And shut up, this fits fine.”

“Right,” Dustin drawls, looking from Steve to Eddie with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I didn’t realize my fashion choices were that interesting,” Steve scoffs. “Are you guys gonna play tonight, or not? Some of you do still have a curfew, and I’m not fielding angry parent calls again.”

This gets everyone back in motion, the group trickling out of the foyer and through the living area to get to the dining room. Gareth is the last one to go, bouncing his eyebrows and grinning at Eddie, who gives him an entirely ineffectual shove and sends him laughing out of the room.

And then it’s just Eddie and Steve.

“I really do like the shirt,” Steve says, hoping to fill the silence before it curdles awkwardly between them. “It’s comfy.”

Eddie smiles, different from the sharp one he’d pulled out a moment ago, now amused and fond and much more real. “It’s a good look for you,” he says, looking Steve up and down, and– that.

That had been the reaction Steve had been hoping for when he’d first put it on.

Maybe he had come on a little too strong at first. Maybe Eddie had just needed time. But whatever had happened, Eddie seems to be fully on board now.

“It’s definitely growing on me,” Steve says. “But I’m kind of getting the feeling that you like it more.”

“Guilty,” Eddie admits, with remarkably little guilt.

But when he steps forward, closing in on Steve’s space, the hand he raises is hesitant. Steve doesn’t move, tries very hard to broadcast that he is very alright with this, and smiles when Eddie finally brushes his fingers along the line of Steve’s collar.

“What can I say? I like seeing a little me on you,” Eddie says.

Steve reaches up to tug at the scarf, still tied around Eddie’s neck. “I think I know the feeling,” he says. “But you should let me take these for you. You have to be melting by now.”

“We don’t all run hot, Harrington,” Eddie grumbles, even as he’s unwrapping the scarf. “I even dressed in an extra layer tonight.”

Steve is about to ask Eddie what the hell he’s talking about when Eddie unzips his jacket in one decisive motion and reveals– Steve’s sweater. The one Eddie had accidentally(?) walked out with last week.

He’s wearing it under his jacket.

It looks good on him, a bright splash of blue-green where there are usually only more subdued shades, and Steve can only take Eddie’s jacket with automatically curling fingers as it’s pressed into his hand.

“I’ve been wondering if you were going to bring that back,” Steve finally says. “It’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a moment of flusterment before Eddie smirks at Steve. “You mean you didn’t want me to keep it? You seemed so worried about how cold I’ve been,” he says. “And you did throw it at me.”

It’s Steve’s turn to flush under Eddie’s words. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to run off with it.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, I might’ve… panicked. A little bit,” he admits. “I wasn’t really expecting to, uh. To get what I wanted. Wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

Alright– alright, fine. Steve concedes. They might have to actually talk about it. Just a little.

“You don’t have to do anything with it. You’re not obligated,” Steve says. “But it’s there for you, whenever you want it. If you do still want it.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s, dark and sincere. “I really, really do. Didn’t mean to make you doubt.”

The silence sits softly between them this time, filled with a smiling kind of certainty. Steve isn’t particularly worried about it becoming awkward, but he finds he can’t help but tease, “So do I get my sweater back, or what?”

“Well, it is kind of warm, now that I’m inside. I guess I should give it back,” Eddie says.

He takes a step back from Steve and promptly whips the sweater off, rucking up the Hellfire shirt he’s wearing underneath and revealing a stretch of lean stomach before he pulls the hem of the t-shirt back down and tosses the sweater at Steve.

“That’s better,” Eddie declares. “I can go get the game started now.”

The teasing glint in Eddie’s eye as he turns away is all Steve needs to dump the clothes in his arms onto the side table and reach out to catch Eddie around the waist.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve says, pulling Eddie back towards him.

Eddie starts to speak, maybe to question him, probably to tease him, but Steve thinks they’ve waited long enough. With one hand still resting on Eddie’s waist, Steve brings his other up to cup his cheek, and leans in.

He can’t say who really initiates it, because Eddie meets him halfway and is kissing him back with equal fervor; he’s clearly recovered from the chill he’d been bothered by earlier, because his lips are warm and inviting against Steve’s.

They don’t stop until they stumble into the hall table, their surroundings having momentarily melted away into unimportant background fuzz.

“Figured I should really thank you for the shirt,” Steve barely pulls away enough to murmur against Eddie’s growing smile. “I thought about crocheting you a hat, but I think this is probably better.”

“Definitely better. But you know, I’ll have to reciprocate in kind.” Eddie shakes his head with the fakest look of regret Steve’s ever seen. “Shit, Steve, if I keep thanking you and you keep thanking me, we might be at this a while.”

Steve laughs, a small breath of amusement as he tilts his head to greet Eddie’s next kiss. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Ao3]

-

First, I’d like to thank @theysherobinbuckley for putting the idea of Steve, Joyce, and El having a crochet circle into my head. It was something I never knew I needed until I saw their tags

Second: Tag List. I hope I caught everyone, I am very sorry if I missed you, though!

  @infinitetrashbag, @unclewaynemunson, @thehumblefigtree, @courtjestermunson, @tillystealeaves, @darkwitchoferie, @phantypurple, @ceaselessly-watching, @annabell257, @momotonescreaming, @silentiumdelirium, @gamerdano, @panicatthediaz, @bejeweledbaby, @strawberryspence, @stevesbipanic, @henderdads @cuips-not-cute, @silversnaffles, @thegingervulcan, @cr0w-culture, @gamerdano, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @mightbeasleep, @tpwkweasley7, @sharkruption, @bye-zai, @paperbackribs, @stitchinaride, @cookies-and-doom, @maya-custodios-dionach, @twopenguinsunderatrenchcoat, @freddykicksasses, @flustratedcas, @marivictal

[storiesofleftoverghosts]

I Remember Everything || Leon Kennedy

pairings: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

warnings: hurt/no comfort, breaking up, alcoholism, semi-toxic relationship, Leon hates himself, reader has alcoholic father, no y/n is used.

word count: 2182

requested: nope!

a/n: i'm a yapper so this is gonna be long LMFAO. honestly i didn't have any specific leon in mind when i wrote this so... anyway i recently gave y'all fluff but i think it's time for angst. this is very heavily inspired by "I Remember Everything" by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. even if you don't like country, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this.

Sitting in a dive bar on a Wednesday night had become Leon's sense of normal over the years. It didn’t matter the day actually. If he wasn't on some life threatening mission for the government who didn't care about his well-being, he was at the bar. It was pathetic. He knew that better than anybody. Men his age were married and drinking with their friends. Some had at least two kids by now. He couldn't help but think of how he could have had that with you.

If only he didn't ruin everything he fucking touched. Maybe you both would be happy right now if he hadn't crossed paths with you.

Nursing his whiskey glass, he sipped on the caramel colored liquid. Rot gut whiskey usually helped ease his mind on nights like this. He didn’t enjoy how awful it tasted, but it was his choice of poison. It’s what he deserved, right? The cheap liquor burnt going down, and the aftertaste made him want to gag. Reality had seemed to be the thing he had trouble swallowing the most in the moment.

Memories of you had begun to trickle back into his mind as he continued to drink. Was it too much to ask the universe to cut him some slack for one god damn night? He thought about you enough as it is when he was sober. 

He was specifically thinking about one of the first dates you both had gone on. Driving home in your old pick up truck from the beach with the windows down. Sitting in the passenger seat gave him the best view. The summer breeze danced with your hair as the sun seemed to highlight all of his favorite features on you. Your smile somehow was brighter than the sun as you sang along to some cheesy pop song on the radio. Beautiful wasn’t even a word that could cover how he thought of you in the moment. Emotions he thought he would never feel again overwhelmed him, and before he knew it, warm tears had begun to form in the corner of his eyes.

“Are you crying babe?” You had asked while turning down the radio. Concern was written all over your features. Sometimes you gave him a run for his money with how observant you were. His piercing blue eyes were glossed over before he turned his attention to whatever was passing outside the window. Quickly he cleared his throat as heat creeped up the back of his neck. 

“Yeah. You still got sand in your hair and it blew into my eyes.” Both of you knew it was an excuse, but you didn’t pry any deeper into the subject. You had learned your lesson about trying to make Leon communicate his emotions with you. Besides, he had the mentality that grown men don’t cry. How could he explain that he was crying out of joy and in awe of your beauty? Thinking of explaining that had made him cringe at the time. 

God he used to give you so much shit about that truck. It was on the older side, and he had offered multiple times to get you a new one. But you were too stubborn and would shoot the offer down. That truck was your pride and joy. Now he would give anything to drive around with you in that pick up truck one more time. 

Another memory seemed to taunt him and rub salt into his open wound. Late night talks sitting on your beatdown basement couch together, your head in his lap as he played with your hair. You’d tell him stories about your family, like when your mother had run off from your father and pawned her wedding ring. Something about how she couldn’t take your fathers drinking anymore. His soothing fingers running through your hair would comfort you, and he swore to you that he’d never turn out like that. 

It tore him up to think how he wouldn’t be the man that he always swore to you he would be.

Glass clinking snapped him out of his pity party. Another whiskey glass was in front of him. The bartender gave him a small nod before focusing his attention on another patron. Leon bit the inside of his lip once he realized the man hadn't even had to ask Leon if he wanted another one. He had grown used to Leon's company in that same damn barstool he sat in every time. Knowing that only made Leon sink deeper into his self hatred. His eyes flicked down to the drink before lifting it to his lips, and took another drink. 

The bitter taste of the alcohol paired with a cheesy pop song in the background, the same one you blasted all the time, brought one final bitter memory to him. When he broke up with you, or more like when you broke up with him. Funny enough, it happened right here at the same bar, at the same barstool. He might have been wasted when it happened, but he remembered everything about that night.

You had come into the bar looking for him one night. The bar was almost closed so when he heard the door open, it had caught his attention. The moment his eyes laid eyes on you, he knew he was in deep shit. You were constantly telling him how you refused to step foot in a bar. Going as far to say you’d rather eat glass than be around the smell of alcohol and alcoholics. Normally he’d remind you that not everyone who went to a bar was an alcoholic, but here he was, proving your point. There was practically a trailblaze of fire behind you as you stomped your way toward him. Steam was leaving your ears and he began to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

“What the hell Leon?!” Glaring at him, you crossed your arms. Anger was practically dripping off your tone. Empty glasses were sitting around him. He couldn’t meet your gaze which only pissed you off more. You hadn’t heard from him in days. Three fucking days to be exact. You knew he hadn’t been sent off to do a mission. He would always give you a kiss goodbye and promise he’d make it back to you. Now you were questioning if his promises meant anything.

“Don’t do this here. Just let me finish this drink, and we can go do this.. somewhere else.” His disinterested voice slurred as he traced the rim of his glass. You felt your blood begin to boil. A teensy tiny part of you felt bad for him. Leon had seen horrific things, not that he would give you the full picture of things. It didn’t take a genius to know that Leon was a broken man. But you didn't care about that. 

For the past couple of months, he had been acting cold towards you. Less and less would he tell you how much he loved you. His fuse was shorter with you, and most of the time you guys were arguing about stupid things. It felt like you were constantly walking on eggshells around him. No matter how much you tried to talk to him about the issues in your relationship, he ignored you. Ignorance was bliss was his mindset about things like this. Not to mention, you had noticed he had been drinking more heavily. Stumbling to your place late at night, too drunk to even stand correctly had become something that happened at least three times a week. You couldn’t stand alcohol and he knew it. Not answering you for three days was the final straw for you.

“No, fuck that! We’re gonna do this here,” You slammed your hands down on the bar. For a moment that seemed to have gotten his attention before he returned back to his unbothered facade. Your hands were stinging from how hard you had slammed down.

“You’re drinking everything in sight to ease your mind, but just when the hell are you gonna help ease mine? Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been?!” You yelled at him, clenching your jaw.. Leon rolled his eyes and shook his head. Luckily there was only one person at the bar, the bartender. The bartender took it as a sign to go get more stock.

“Did ya think that maybe you’re the reason I’m drinkin’? All you do is bitch at me all the time. It’s…It’s like nails on a chalkboard every time I hear you talk.” He waved a finger at you. His pupils were dilated, and you could smell the alcohol coming off of him. His drunken words stung, and there was a flash of hurt written on your face. Even when you two were arguing, he never talked to you like this. Guess strange words come out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broken.

“Are you being serious right now?” Your voice broke towards the end of your sentence. He didn’t respond, and only stared at you like you were an idiot. The audacity he had to say that astounded you. Drunk words were a sober man’s thoughts or however the saying went. You were reminded of the way your father would talk to your mom, and a feeling of disgust washed over you. The man you loved was starting to become like the man you hated. Your anger dissipated as tranquility took its place. You knew what you had to do.

“You know what? I’m done.” You had sounded so unbothered as you removed your hands from the bar. Like if you were talking about the state of the weather and not ending your relationship. Leon raised an eyebrow. Did he hear you right? Were you doing what he thought you were doing?

“I love you and I understand you have your issues. But I have enough self respect for myself to realize I deserve better than being treated like garbage.” Hearing your words seemed to sober him up. He quickly got off the barstool, stumbling a little as he did. You watched him with a strange look in your eyes. Looking back at it now, he realized that it was a look of pity.

“Baby. You don’t mean that.” He chuckled before searching your face for any signs that you were joking. Much to his dismay, your lips were pressed in a thin line. He reached out to try and grab your hands but you had pulled them away. Your eyes were devoid of that warmth you usually had whenever he looked into them. That’s when it hit him that he had fucked up for the last time.

“Do me a favor and call yourself a cab. Seems like the bars’ closing soon.” A disappointed sigh managed to escape from you as you turned away. Part of you wanted to personally drive him home but that would only hurt you in the long run. These were the consequences of his actions. That’s what you had to tell yourself as he began to plead you to stay.

“Please don’t do this. Can’t you just stay? Please love, don’t leave me.” He called out to you. He would have begged you to stay till the sun rose, you knew that. You’ve never heard someone sounding so desperate, let alone Leon sounding so desperate. Maybe it was how much alcohol he had consumed. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he was losing you. It made you hesitate for a moment but you continued to walk.

Deep down you knew if you stayed, you wouldn’t be able to leave. It would be a never ending restless cycle of Leon getting drunk and saying hurtful shit, you wanting to leave, him begging you not to, etc. You weren’t going to be like your mother. Desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as you finally stepped out of the bar, disappearing into the night and his life.

“Time to go home. Bar’s closed.” The bartender told him which snapped him out of his thoughts once last time. It didn’t feel like that much time had passed since he was given another drink, but the time on his watch proved him wrong. When it came to you he always lost track of time. Every time he sat down on this barstool he thought about you. Why he had kept coming back here, he didn’t know. Mostly it was a way of punishing himself. For letting you walk away and being too much of a coward to not change for you.

He paid his tab and left a tip for the bartender. Mumbling a good night, he made his way out the door. The cool night air felt nice against his flushed skin, yet it only made him miss you more. Cursing out his brain for the painful reminder, he called a cab before waiting for it to come. 

God he wished he didn’t but he did remember every moment (the good and the bad) on those summer nights with you.