#I am not going to be the only one to remember this damn dog

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ to be loved loudly - 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓

（ 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗐𝗈𝗅𝖿𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽

✫ i feel like i have to say this but most of my smau’s are literally just random posts and rarely have a plot also lowk part 3 of walk em like a dog?? idk i somehow made her totos daughter without realizing 😭

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 2,871,443 others

yn 🍋‍🟩

landonorris first

landonorris fuck i’m hard

⤷ yn what??

⤷ landonorris baby you can glance at me and it’s up

⤷ yn weirdo

⤷ landonorris don’t stop i’m close

⤷ yn WHAT THE FUCK LANDO??? this is public everyone can see this

⤷ landonorris ain’t no one gonna stop me from thirsting 💀 keep going i was so close

⤷ yn why am i dating you

⤷ landonorris well if i remember this correctly you said “i love pathetic men”

⤷ yn get out of my face

⤷ landonorris i came

⤷ yn i’m going to report your account

landonorris i’m gonna miss you when i scroll 😔

⤷ yn you’re sitting on my lap right now?

⤷ landonorris i just wanna be close to you

⤷ alex_albon loser 😂😂

⤷ lilymhe Now alex…

⤷ alex_albon I was joking only good boys sit on their gfs laps fr

⤷ landonorris good boys?

⤷ alex_albon are you not a good boy?

⤷ landonorris i’m the best boy ho

⤷ mclaren What am I looking at

oscarpiastri I feel molested

maxverstappen1 Lando is horny 24/7: confirmed

georgerussell63 Chile anyways so

🝮

landonorris

liked by tomholland2013 and 3,890,516 others

landonorris i love my girlfriend so much everyday i wake up i thank god that i’m able to call her my girlfriend no one compares she is perfect and so funny and so beautiful and so kind i love her more than all the stars in the sky in every lifetime and universe i will find her because she is my one love

yn so sappy i love it

⤷ landonorris always for you honey

charles_leclerc Average Lando post

alex_albon super cool super rich super popular nepo baby gf who has everyone in the palm of her hand x loser bf who looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky is my favorite love trope

⤷ landonorris i’m cool and rich and popular as well?

⤷ alex_albon not as much as y/n

⤷ landonorris true

danielricciardo Pussy whipped

⤷ landonorris damn right you would be too

lilymhe So cutie patootie

georgerussell63 Lando please, you’re making all of us look like bad boyfriends.

f1 We love our talented, athletic, beautiful, multilingual queen

georgerussell63 y/n blink twice if you’re being held hostage

♥︎ yn

⤷ georgerussell63 That’s a sign. Help is on the way dear

alexandrasaintmleux Tell her I’m in need of a date at the mall

⤷ landonorris i’m not her assistant?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Aren’t you?

⤷ landonorris ms wolff said she is available any time for you. but not for me ig.

francolapinto i was the line leader in 3rd grade 🙂‍↕️

⤷ landonorris seriously? on my own post? i’ll kill you

⤷ carlossainz55 That escalated quickly

⤷ landonorris i zont play about my girl

⤷ francolapinto well i tried

⤷ landonorris try again and see what happens ❤️

🝮

yn

liked by lilamoss and 4,461,220 others

yn lan saw it first

landonorris first

⤷ carlossainz55 second

⤷ charles_leclerc third

⤷ oscarpiastri fourth

landonorris lawd have mercy 😫 i’m about to bust

⤷ yn awh thanks babe

landonorris you’re so cute i can’t get enough of you

landonorris most beautiful girl i have ever laid eyes on how did i get so lucky

⤷ yn you sweet talker 💌

⤷ oscarpiastri Seriously though, how did you get her to date you I’m still baffled

⤷ landonorris years and years of begging, endless amounts of gifts and flowers, zero contact with any females i’m not related to, and charisma 😎

⤷ oscarpiastri I wonder how much money you’ve spent on her over the years

⤷ landonorris you do not want to know 😎

⤷ landonorris forgot to mention i became best friends with her family and got invited to all vacations, holidays, and birthdays so she couldn’t avoid me 😎

alexandrasaintmleux Heaven sent 🪽🤍

⤷ yn thank ya angel baby 👼🏽

francisca.cgomes ooh lala 🙉

landonorris i was the line leader in 3rd grade

⤷ francolapinto seriously?

⤷ pierregasly You made it to 3rd grade?

⤷ landonorris shut your butt

⤷ pierregasly You first

🝮

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by landonorris and 871,054 others

alexandrasaintmleux Aquí me quedo

yn mi chica 🙂‍↕️

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux mi amor 😘

landonorris release her now. give her back. i have not seen her in ages. this is not funny.

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux You seen her at lunch? Besides she love it over here

⤷ yn yeah i love it over here

⤷ landonorris don’t make me send out an amber alert

⤷ oscarpiastri Please not again you had all of Italy in a state of panic last time

landonorris why are you matching with my wife?? just say you hate me

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 😏

⤷ landonorris did you just threaten me?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 😭

⤷ landonorris you this is funny? i’m getting grey hairs woman GIVE MY GIRLFRIEND BACK FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I’M HAVING WITHDRAWALS PLEASE

landonorris fuck she so hot

landonorris who’s the hottie on the right???

landonorris i will find you and i will make you regret hiding my wife from me

⤷ yn lando please. you have my location

⤷ landonorris oh silly me 😅 coming to get you be there in 10 minutes ❤️

⤷ yn i’m 30 minutes away?? do not put yourself in danger lando i’ll smack you upside the side

⤷ landonorris baby, danger is my middle name 😎

⤷ yn oh just die

⤷ landonorris okay i’m getting a lot of mixed signals idk if you want me dead or safe?? like my head hurts please choose ❤️

⤷ yn die

⤷ landonorris whatever you say baby ❤️

🝮

yn

liked by naraaziza and 3,451,802 others

yn the legend lives on

landonorris who’s the hottie behind the camera 😍

⤷ alex_albon *debbie ryan smirk* *raises hand shyly* 🙂‍↕️

⤷ landonorris shut your face do not steal the spotlight from my lady

⤷ landonorris as i was saying…who’s the hottie behind the camera 😍😍��

⤷ yn shut your face

⤷ landonorris mmm i love dirty talk

⤷ yn don’t make me get a restraining order

⤷ landonorris kay, i’ll meet you in the hotel room 😈

alexandrasaintmleux Unfortunately

georgerussell63 My petite prince 👑

⤷ landonorris yk what ain’t petite though?

⤷ georgerussell63 Was just trying to have some light hearted banter 😔

francolapinto dang

⤷ alex_albon alright lil bro do you have some sort of death wish or something?

⤷ oscarpiastri I’ve seen him cuss out this server at a gala cause he complimented her dress…it was pretty entertaining tbh but I think he was gay

⤷ carlossainz55 One time I told her she looked pretty (purely platonic she’s a baby) and that night I woke up to him sitting in the corner of my room. Almost shit myself.

⤷ lewishamilton Not to be a gossip or anything but like he knocked this guy out in my garage once cause he gave her a weird compliment and he was like 40, I think that’s when Toto finally accepted him

francolapinto you two are endgame fr🤞🏽

⤷ landonorris right? (don’t try to lock your doors i’ll find a way in)

🝮

landonorris

liked by judebellingham and 3,890,154 others

landonorris my wife (she ain’t gonna be able to walk tomorrow)

alex_albon just put the fries in the bag bro

lewishamilton Let’s put the phone down for a bit bud

oscarpiastri Please, this can’t be healthy. I’m sick of hearing you two every weekend

⤷ landonorris sorry osc i can’t function without her my body starts to shut down

georgerussell63 How many PowerPoints do I need to make?? ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

maxverstappen1 Get the wheelchair ready

lando.jpg my cute amazing talented tan beautiful funny sexy hot sweet wife

⤷ yn so when are you gonna stop calling me your wife and actually make me one?

⤷ lando.jpg soon baby, trust me

⤷ danielricciardo This actually sounded so sweet

pierregasly My kinda guy 🤝🏽

yn my dad see’s these

⤷ landonorris are you cereal?? and you’ve never told me??? i’m to young to die

lilymhe babygirlll 😍😍

⤷ landonorris please, not today

mclaren Please stop posting things like this Lando it is bad for our image

⤷ landonorris that’s telling me to stop breathing I CANT it’s just who i am

charles_leclerc Okay but why is she so good at tennis?

⤷ yn what am i not good at? 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc Being nice 😖

⤷ yn i’m very nice just not to you

⤷ charles_leclerc I’ll sue you

⤷ landonorris I’ll drown you ❤️

🝮

yn

liked by brock.purdy13 and 5,153,403 others

yn my favorite puppy dog 🤍

landonorris awhhh you do love me 😘

landonorris ugh i’m touched

landonorris baby i’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked me to

landonorris sweetest brat ever

landonorris i’ve never loved anyone or anything the way i love you

landonorris my one love forever

landonorris i’ll never get tired of loving you

landonorris there are no words that can describe the love i have for you

landonorris you have me wrapped around your finger

landonorris you’re so perfect i cannot fathom your beauty

landonorris most precious soul ever

landonorris i can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve changed me for the better

landonorris the yin to my yang

landonorris you complete me

landonorris i was made to love you

landonorris let’s fuck 🌹

⤷ oscarpiastri Almost had it

⤷ landonorris I CANT CHANGE WHO I AM OSCAR I WAS BORN LIKE THIS DID YOU NOT HEAR ME SAY I WAS MADE TO LOVE HER I’VE BEEN YEARNING FOR HER MY ENTIRE LIFE OSCAR LET ME LIVE

⤷ francolapinto a man who yearns is a man who earns ☝🏼

⤷ landonorris does this have some sort of double meaning?? cause i’ll kill you fr 🤞🏽

landonorris as i was saying, let’s fuck 💐

⤷ yn kay, i’ll meet you in the hotel room 😈

⤷ georgerussell63 IS SOMEBODY GONNA MATCH MY FREAK?? IS SOMEBODY GONNA MATCH MY NASTAYYYY???

[rodolfoparras]

The art of tardiness

Pairing: Unspecified Male Character x Male reader

cw: 18+, possessiveness, anal fingering, anal sex, top male reader, bottom male character, age gap, morning sex, writing on skin, feminization (hole referred to as cunt)

Synopsis: sometimes calling him yours just isn’t enough

There were times you were sure that your boyfriend was dating two different people.

One was the young man who’d swiftly tuck his tail between his legs at the smallest comment made about his relationship. That man could admit that he lacked experience compared to his much older partner, could admit he probably wasn’t his partner’s ideal type with his scrawny frame and short height, and he knew that even if his boyfriend were to look past those things, the people around them would never do it.

Then there was the rabid dog in the shape of a young man, that barks and bites at any potential threat, such as hostile comments made about his relationship. He’d look you straight in the eye and tell you not to make comments about a relationship you know nothing off, hell he’d get in a physical altercation if you provoked him enough.

And then of course there was the desire to bite the hand that feeds him, devour his person down to the bone so he wouldn’t have to share him with the world. He or rather you were pretty good at keeping this desire at bay but sometimes you just couldn’t contain it especially early in the mornings, when he looks like a sight to behold with his lazy smile bleary eyes, thin white sheet doing nothing to cover up his naked body.

You want to keep him in bed, mark him up, make him cum over and over again til all he can remember is the feeling of your cock

Unfortunately things aren’t that easy, especially when he has to get ready for work in half an hour, but stubborn as you are, you don’t let him go, dead set on marking him up as much as possible.

At first he’s too lost in bliss to notice what you’re doing, letting you suck and nip on the sensetive skin while desperately clinging onto your body, that is til you bite down hard enough to draw blood and the man jerks in place, wide eyed and suddenly too aware of what you’re doing.

“No marks” he says, even goes as far as to scruff your neck, as if you’re nothing but a disobedient dog to him “I have work, remember?”

“Please?” and you know that you must sound rather pathetic but honestly you couldn’t care less, especially not when you notice that a couple of marks have already started to bloom on his skin.

“So goddamn possessive what am I gonna do with you huh?” He says, while keeping a vice like grip on your neck “Should I let you write your damn name on my forehead? Would that make you happy hm?” He says gaze much softer as his thumb strokes your neck.

Even though he hadn’t intend to do so, his words gave you an idea and you immediately find yourself reaching for the night stand, hand blindly rummaging through the drawer.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He says, brow raised but it doesn’t take long before realization strikes him “Absolutely not,”

You turn to the other man , practically giving puppy eyes. This time you do feel a tad bit of embarrassment but not enough to give up on this battle.

“I can’t go out like that,”

“You won’t,” you immediately say “I’ll do it somewhere you can cover it,”

“Jesus Christ kid,” he sighs out and pinches his brows but despite his words you know that his resolve has crumbled.

You’re quick to grab the first best pen before straddling his waist, the late night escapade having left him in nothing but a thin white sheet covering the most sensitive part of him but you can still feel you cock head rubbing upon the cleft of his ass as you settle down.

“Cheeky bastard” he breathes out, fully aware of where your mind’s gone to.

You only hush him response, muttering how you have to be focused before you attempt to put the marker to his arm.

But before you can do that he grabs ahold of your egg wrist, a firm look painted on his face “promise me it’ll wash off,”

“Promise,” you say with a shit eating grin on your face.

And as you proceed to put the marker to his skin, you realize that you’re at loss of ideas on what you could write on him. It’s like you wanted to do so much when the idea first struck your head but sitting here you almost feel overwhelmed by all the options that you have.

You play it safe at first, writing out your name just below his pec, a move that has the man squirming beneath you.

“Tickles,”

“Sorry,” you say, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone as you draw another scribble on his forearm. It’s you and him- well it’s supposed to be but your artistic skills only allow you to draw two stick figures holding hands.

For a moment there are no words exchanged as you continue draw on his skin. You do a couple of doodles here and there, some ridiculous other more scandalous. You even write some words on his skin- some being your name others being lewd quotes, everything done within range where he’d be able to hide it beneath his clothes.

“This enough for you kid?” He says, when the majority of his chest is covered in little scribbles.

He probably didn’t mean anything by those words. But the ugly monster residing inside couldn’t help but take this as a challenge especially when he says that as he lays naked in your shared bed, soft smile on his face, the scribbles of your name clearly showing under the rays of sunlight protruding through the bedroom window.

Instead of responding to him you grab ahold of his wrist, black marker writing out the letter M on his skin, bold and big, just within the range of where he can pull on a shirt if he wishes to hide the word. The letters I N E are soon added in place, big bold and curling around his underarm.

The word mine now lays written on his forearm.

But you don’t stop there, eyes flicking over to his furry stomach that looks awfully bare before you take a marker to it and start writing your initials all over it. This time around the skin isn’t as forgiving, straight lines turning jagged from coarse hair and faded scar. Not that you mind and neither does the little monster residing inside.

You continue writing on him, covering as much skin as he allows but truth be told you don’t know how his clothes will be able to cover up some scribbles, not that you plan on telling him that right now.

And he doesn’t seem to care that much as his gaze carefully follows your movements, breathing growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes.

At some point you feel the need to get closer to him even though you’re practically sitting ontop of him, swiftly shuffling around til you’re slotted between his thighs, carefully drawing a line from the crevice of his knee down to the groove of his left thigh.

He continues to watch you with attentive eyes, as you add a triangle to the end of line, the marker reaching dangerously to where his balls lay hanging between his thighs and from where you sit you can smell his musk hitting your nostrils, can feel his thighs clench beneath your fingertips , can now see the way the black arrow is humorously pointing straight to the furley ring of muscles.

It’s impossible not to reach out to the spot between his legs, a curious finger swiping over his sensitive skin and pulling a gasp out of him“Hah!”

Your eyes flicker up, cock twitching at the sight of the man who already looks so wrecked before looking back to the marker in your hand, moving it back and forth til the line on his thigh grows in size, doing anything just to busy your mind because you’re supposed to draw on him not fuck him, remember that?

But it’s not long before your attention is back onto his burning heat, a glob of spit landing onto the sensitive skin before your finger circles his now wet rim.

“What are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you slip the tip of your finger inside, watching the way he jerks in surprise, the sudden movement jacking up the straight marker line, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Jesus Christ kid,” he breathes, voice dripping with both arousal and amusement as you continue to sink your finger inside of him.

“This alright?” You ask, and push til you’re knuckles deep before giving an experimental curl of your finger.

Another gasp escapes his mouth, hips bucking up into your touch “ hah -now you ask?” He says, but despite his words the man nods at your question.

That’s all it takes for you to work a second finger inside, this time coaxing a hiss out of him,“easy there kid going to break me,”

You can’t help but chuckle at that”Think you’re giving me too much credit pretty,” you say but decide to move your fingers at a much slower pace, watching the way his body once again relax onto the sheets as contented hums escape his lips.

You continue curling your fingers inside while drawing onto the man; circling birth marks and scars you find pretty, drawing arrows across every inch of skin while watching the way he twists and turns in the sheets with every brush of your fingertips “so fucking pretty like this drives me crazy “

At some point you stop drawing on his skin, turning all your focus to the fingers buried inside him.

You don’t even notice the way tears have started to gather at his eyes, nor the begs and please continuously escaping his mouth, too entranced with the sight of his hungry hole practically swallowing up your hand.

It’s only when he grabs ahold of your wrist that you snap back into the present moment, now noticing how you’ve left the pen to bled out on the white sheets, and how the ink on his skin has already started to smear.

The gruesome monster inside tells you that you need to find another way to mark the man.

Within moments you’re grabbing ahold of his legs, pushing his knees up to his chest til his cunt is on full display, not wasting another second to line your cockhead up with his entrance before pushing inside him.

“Ah fuck! Insatiable dog,” he barks out, not having expected you to do that but that doesn’t stop him from practically clamping onto you as you bottom out: heels digging into your ass and nails digging into your back as you start driving up into his hungry cunt.”mpf fuck just like that keep going kid“

Who’s insatiable now? You think to yourself, a strangled chuckle escaping your lips as you continue to thrust into his tight wet heat.

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a steady pace, thrusting so erratically he’s practically choking up on the moans that are trying to escape his lips, bed frame frantically rocking against the wall every thrust of your hips.

“Ah! Fuck! Going to - hah going to kill me,” he says through choked sobs, hands madly clawing at your back as if he’s losing his footing on this world.

And as you look down at the beautiful mess he makes, you can’t help but notice the shadow of a bulge showing on his stomach, right below the spot where your initials lay.

Once again you feel the zealous monster within you take the steering wheel, hand pushing his legs past his ears, before drilling into him.

“Say it “ you grunt out, hands keeping a vice like grip on his thighs, pushing his legs so far back you’re sure you’ll split him in half if you keep it up “Come on come on say you’re mine”

At first he’s at a loss for words, barely even able to catch his breath with the way you’re erratically thrusting into him but eventually he manages to respond to you.

“Yours yours all yours fucking fuck I’m cum-“ he splutters out, hole erratically clenching down onto your cock before he cums in hot thick white streaks, across both his and yours abondmen “‘m sorry ‘m sorry” he slurs out, while he continues to shamelessly fuck himself back onto your cock.

Something about that sight is enough to triggering your own orgasm

“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut before youre hit with hot blinding pleasure.

The world around you blurs out, ears ringing loud as you continue to ride out your high before you eventually slump down beside the man.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, ears still ringing loud, world barely coming into focus. “That was-“ you begin but trail off once you can’t seem to find the right word for it.

A laugh rumbles through the older man’s chest, his big hand cradling the back of your neck before he says “got that right kid,”

You look up at him only to be left speechless at the sight.

See people always said that a relationship with someone so much younger than him would ruin him. You’d hear it over and over again while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he was having about this “sudden” relationship.

You never really understood what they meant until you saw him sprawled out on your bed, gaping hole stuffed full with your cum, and every inch of his skin covered in your initials.

At least they knew he was yours to ruin.

Yours

Yours.

Yours.

That little insatiable monster that can't seem to find rest rises to life again, coaxes you to slot your lips against the older man’s, tongue slipping into his mouth and licking along every nook and crevice, leaving the taste of you behind for anyone that would dare kiss him.

It takes one more kiss before he prys himself away from you, and walks over to the bathroom on shaky steps, the sight of his inked ass is the last thing you see before the door closes behind him.

You slump back into bed with a smile on your face, the taste of him still lingers on your lips, the previous string of events practically burned into your iris and for a second it all feels like a dream that is before you hear your name being shouted behind the bathroom door followed by a string of angry words “why won’t this shit wash off,”

Oh well…

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

28 / 1.7k / soap soulmate au, part 5

...

Soap stares at his name where it's inked across your skin. You should be his enemy. He's sitting across from you, your interrogator in this dimly lit weapons closet. You refuse to look at him. But his gaze bores into you anyway, intense on your eyes, your lips, the cuts and bruises on your face. He wants you. But he can only have you once you've given him the information Captain Price needs.

"Tell me where Alejandro is," he says. "That's all you need to do."

A muscle in your jaw twitches when he mentions Graves' name, but you bite your tongue. You won't let him shake your resolve like he did in Las Almas. You should've killed him on sight.

"What Graves is doing to Alejandro--you know it's wrong." Soap’s gaze is steady. You're so close. He wants you so badly it hurts. "He's not a good man.”

"You have no idea what kind of man he is," you say.

"I know exactly the kind of man he is," he growls. "I saw what he did to the people in Las Almas. He called them dirty cops and had them executed when they said they didn't know anything. Innocent people. In front of their families. Their children." Soap's hands curl into fists on the table between you. "He's not the kind of man who deserves your loyalty."

Your cuffs clink as your arms flex against the chair. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Soap's knuckles pop, his voice low and dark. All his life he's waited for you. Now Graves--fucking Graves, who betrayed Soap and his team and tried to murder them all--is somehow the one keeping you from him. "I don't understand what you see in that bastard."

You say nothing, eyes trained on the far wall.

Soap's shoulders tighten. "You're just a tool to him."

"I’m a soldier. I choose to follow orders. So do you.”

"You're following his orders. You think that makes you a soldier, being a weapon? No. Makes you a damn dog."

You say nothing.

Soap grips the table until it creaks. "You think he cares about you.”

"It doesn't matter if he does or not."

"It does so bloody matter. You’re no’ some pawn he can just throw away." God damn you. He wants to grab you with both hands and shake you. To hell with this interrogation--he's got half a mind to lock you down somewhere padded until you get it through your skull that you're not worthless. He scowls at you. "You're better than this. You have to be."

Cold irritation seeps through your mask. "Am I?" Soulmate or not, he doesn’t know you.

At the look on your face, Soap's scowl deepens. He's going to kill that bastard, and he's going to do it slowly. "What about Graves is more important to you than the innocent lives he took? Does that mean nothing to you?”

"Orders are orders."

Soap's voice drops to a dangerous pitch. "Look me in the eye and say that.”

You don’t. You tell yourself it’s because he has no power over you. He can’t tell you what to do.

Soap crosses his arms. "'S what I thought. You're bluffing."

"I'm not."

"Bullshit. Graves is nothing but Shepherd's lapdog. Gettin’ paid to commit goddamn war crimes.”

"Shut your mouth," you snap. "You have no idea what happened--"

You stumble on the next syllable and go silent, realizing suddenly that you're looking him in the eye.

Johnny's a man of impulse, and it takes all the self-control he has to keep himself in place the moment you lock eyes. The pull he feels to you right now is overwhelming. You're in reach. He leans forward. Those brilliant blue eyes of his see all the way down into your soul. They’re just the same as you remember--eerily vivid, pupils blown, with his jaw set hard.

"What happened to what, darlin'?"

You shift, skin prickling. You want to cross your arms over yourself and clap your hand over the soulmark on your neck. "You don't know what happened in Al Mazrah."

"You were ambushed."

You nod, remembering that night of the mission. You've seen your squadmates die before. It's a hazard of the job, part of being a mercenary. But that night--seeing so many Shadows gunned down before they could so much as draw their weapons--it still haunts you.

"Shepard didn't know. It wasn't like we-- it was supposed to be a simple transport mission."

"It was a black bag op."

"That's what Shadows do. We take missions people don't like. Someone has to step in where you military dogs won't."

"Where was Shepherd when it went tits up, hm?" Soap's lip curls. "No air support on an illegal op. He left you to be killed. And now he needs someone to blame. It's not gonna be him taking that bullet. It's gonna be you."

"Captain Graves can handle it."

Soap lets out a rough sigh. Your insistence on Graves is rubbing him raw. You could have died on that op two months ago. And then what? He'd have never met you, only found your name later in stone on some memorial somewhere. The thought makes his chest go cold and his blood run hot. It could still happen. If he can't tear you away from this bloody mercenary work, you'll never be his. Christ. He can't let that happen. He won't. You're not going back to the Shadow Company. He'll tear Graves into pieces before he lets that happen.

He fixates on your soulmark again. Why can't he focus on getting the information Price needs? All he can think about right now is the scab on your lip, the way your pupils dilate when you look at him. Your body wants his even as you're spitting venom. The fire in you matches his own, and he wants more.

"Graves isn't here," Soap tells you. "And I'm not takin’ chances. You’re not going back to Shepherd, and you’re sure as hell not going back to Graves. You're mine."

You pull on your cuffs, hating the way the possessive note in his voice makes your stomach flip. "You don't get to decide that."

"Neither do you.”

"Isn't a matter of choice. It's a matter of what you’re gonnae do about it."

You swallow and watch his gaze track down your throat. He's close. When did he lean in? Why aren't you pulling back?

No, you tell yourself, you’re not scared. You’re in control. You lean a millimeter closer. "You can't keep me here."

His eyes brighten, gaze so intense it warms your skin. "Careful, darlin'. You don't want to throw down that gauntlet."

"And you expect me to tell you whatever you want to know? Fuck my career, fuck my squadmates?"

"If you weren't so damn dense, I'd--" He mutters another string of curses in that thick Scottish accent, standing from his chair and pacing the tight room. "You don't understand what I'm offerin’. You don't need them. You have me an' mine."

He circles around to your side of the interrogation table and kneels next to you, his expression an open plea for you to listen. You stare down at him with your heart suddenly in your throat. You can't backpedal. You can't look away.

He searches your face. Even roughed up, even pissing him off, you're beautiful. Damn it, he's going to do something stupid if he doesn't control himself.

He keeps his voice low and even. "You were expendable to them. You're expendable to Graves. You're no' expendable to me." He reaches up to you, and you go still. His hand is hot on your skin. His grip is surely strong enough to break bone. But only his thumb drags along your lip. His eyes follow the motion. "Your loyalty should be for people who care about you. I'm on your side, ya wee shite. Just tell me how to get to Alejandro and I'll get you out of here. I'll make sure you're safe. That's all I need to know."

You stare down at him. Your heart beats in your ears, and his pulse hammers with yours. You can feel it through his thumb against the sensitive skin on your lower lip.

Johnny wants you so badly you almost give in. He thinks he's telling the truth--that he'll protect you. But he doesn't know any better. You're not who he wants you to be. You're not soft. You're not good. Why does he act like he can see something redeemable in you?

Being his soulmate doesn't guarantee you a goddamn thing. Promises don't afford you any more protection than you've already given yourself. You know that very well. People aren't reliable. Soulmarks don’t fix everything. They’re just ink.

Whatever he sees when he looks up at you makes something cold and sharp settle in his chest. His throat constricts. He's pushing, he knows he is, and it's the wrong move with you. He's never been this desperate for anyone.

"Darlin'. Don't do that. Don't shut me out." His voice wavers just like his resolve. He'd protect you to his last. You refuse to see that, and he can't make you.

You look away, pulling away from his hand. "I don't trust you."

Johnny's stomach drops, and he digs his fingers into the metal chair to stop himself from digging them into you.

You want him. He can see it in the set of your shoulders, how tight you hold yourself when he's close to you. You want him despite yourself, and you still refuse. It doesn't matter how rational a decision it should be to accept his help. There's something else happening in your head that's keeping your walls up, and he's starting to realize it's not just Graves. It can't be.

He watches you for a long moment. He doesn't want you to hurt, but he's not stupid enough to believe you'll soften up and come around with time. You're a soldier.

Finally, Soap stands. If you don’t tell him what he needs to know, you’ll remain a hostage, and won’t be able to have you. He won’t accept that.

"Fine," he says, pushing his way out the door. "We’ll do this the hard way."

...

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more Soap / masterlist tag

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 16: The One About That Time I Shot an Arrow into the Air

“…It fell to earth, I knew not where; for so swiftly it flew, the sight; could not follow it in its flight.”

Archery has always been one of my fortes in life. I have absolutely no idea why, but I’m strangely quite good at it. My father, of course, attributes it to my ancestors; something passed down to me in my genes. So, I’m not sure that any arrow I shot into the air wouldn’t naturally find itself in the direction of its intended target. Today, that target would almost certainly be in the jugular of a Cerberus-like creature. Ah, yes, that mythical hellhound with three heads that guards the entrance to the Underworld. Not only does it dictate who can enter the realm of Hades, but also who can leave. And I’m not fond of creatures that would rather devour you alive than let you leave of your own freewill. Plus, could you imagine having three heads with three different personalities? Ugh, that would get confusing quickly. And, even worse, could you imagine all the in-fighting? I mean, an arrow to the throat – if it didn’t dismantle the beast – would almost certainly silence it. Luckily, we don’t have any three-headed dogs in this fandom…

Where am I going with this? Well – besides down a long and winding path that draws attention to the fact I enjoy poetry and archery – actually, I chose today’s poem for a specific purpose. If you haven’t figured it out from my previous cracks about the Kraken, I also like Greek mythology. In fact, learning about Greek mythology at around the age of 11 – yes, that defiant age where we’re no longer interested in Barbie (not that I was ever interested in Barbie) but we’re also not cool enough to be considered teenagers – was the first time I remember finding myself “thinking outside of the box.” And by that, I mean asking the question that I probably should not have said out loud: “If Zeus is a myth, does that mean God is fake, too?” That went down like a lead balloon (and, I hope, no one takes offense to reading that now; it is not meant with any disrespect). My mother was, of course, telephoned by the school and, when I returned home, she greeted me with (something along the lines of) a simple: “Did they answer your question? No? Then I suggest you find it for yourself.”

We all have our own truth, don’t we? Even in this fandom, we are each tasked with choosing our own path. Weeding out facts from speculation and speculation from rumor. Choosing what we want to believe over what is being pushed on us. Overcoming our willingness to follow blindly versus our refusal to be backed into corner. I suppose that’s why I’ve always liked Greek mythology (and, perhaps, storytelling in general) – because it helps us navigate life’s challenges by better understanding human nature. It’s also one of the reasons why my favorite story has always been the trials and tribulations of Eros and Psyche.

Ah-ha! See, I told you I had a purpose for bringing up those damn arrows!

Yes, Eros was the Greek equivalent of the Roman Cupid; that weird little dude who fired love arrows like a bouquet of flowers at a wedding. But Eros wasn’t some creepy little cherub in a cloth diaper; he was the devastatingly handsome God of Love. And he fell in love with the equally beautiful human Psyche. That part about her being human, however,managed to get Psyche some major side-eye from Eros’s mother, Aphrodite. In retaliation for humans worshiping Psyche’s beauty over her own, Aphrodite sent Eros down to earth to pierce Psyche with one of his love arrows so she would fall madly in love with a hideous monster (unfortunately for the Cerberus, it wasn’t them). But Eros defied his mother and, unbeknownst to Aphrodite, kept Psyche for himself hidden away in a castle. There, Psyche lived – mostly happily – with Eros visiting her every night. Eros promised Psyche she could live there indefinitely so long as she never looked upon his face (hence why he only visited her in darkness). But humans have this uncanny knack for being curious and, of course, Psyche peeked. Well, fuck! Haha, I won’t ruin the rest of the story for you except to say, yes, Eros was royally peeved at Psyche’s betrayal, fled their home, and sought refuge with his bitchy mother (because, of course, he did). Devastated, Psyche went clambering up to her pseudo-mother-in-law’s shrine to beg for forgiveness and Aphrodite, being a bit of a bitchy goddess, gave Psyche a series of impossible tasks to complete to prove her worthiness. Amazingly Psyche did in fact complete each of these four tasks but only because she managed to get a little help from some fantastical friends. Well, except for that final task for which Psyche was warned – don’t look in the fucking box. Damn humans.

Like all stories passed down from generation to generation, there are multiple versions of this myth, particularly when it comes to who helped Psyche complete her four tasks. Sometimes it’s one god(dess), other times it’s multiple; sometimes it’s earth’s creatures (the ants, the plants, and the flying things). But my favorite version is the one where Eros was the one pulling those invisible strings – or, at the very least, keeping an eye on Psyche from the shadows – because no matter how angry he was with her, Eros still loved Psyche and wanted to protect her.

Why do I bring this story up? Well, for starters, if you didn’t notice (because you were too focused on carriages and mirrors), Bridgerton Season 3 made quite a few parallels between Colin and Penelope and Eros and Psyche, even referring to the latter by name at the end of the fourth episode. The show also brushed on the importance of trust, the consequences of betrayal, and the idea that love can conquer all. Funny thing is I never thought Colin to be much of an Eros; he made a better Psyche, in my opinion. I mean, he was the one to peek into Penelope’s secret life!

But Colin’s real-life counterpart, Luke, makes a rather entertaining Eros.

On December 16, when Luke reposted to his Instagram stories a link to Nicola’s “Part 1” of her 2024 Year, the fandom went wild. And I’m not talking about just the Lukolas going insane with excitement; the Jakolas were having a field day, too – but not in a good way. The unease they’d almost certainly felt with those coordinated airplane and “Polin” posts from October returned with a vengeance when Luke resurfaced in support of Nicola – the woman for whom he consistently comes out hiding. I realized then that the one person who could simultaneously make the Lukolas’ hearts flutter and the Adjacents’ blood boil was Luke (i.e., our Eros could make Psyche rejoice while making Aphrodite lash out in anger).

If you really think about it, Luke has pulled us out of the black waters of the River Styx multiple times, making him the perfect Eros to our Psyche. Yes, our Psyche. The fandom is absolutely the Psyche of this story. After all, the fandom was the one who betrayed Luke with our collective reaction to Papsmear (but, in the fandom’s defense, that was a shitty fucking day). And, of course, that wench Aphrodite is collectively all the side story bullshit, from the Adjacent narratives to rag-mags sticking their ever-growing noses into places they don't belong.

As we finish out the year, I thought it would be fun to give Luke some credit where credit is due. In other words, I thought I’d highlight four times Luke “Eros-ed” (i.e., “rescued”) us from some mucky ass shit. This is not every moment Luke came out of hiding to do something wonderful; these are simply my top four moments where I believe Luke single-handedly resuscitated the fandom. You’re welcome to share your best Luke moments in the comments.

No. 1 - That Post-Papsmear Thing That Everyone Ignored:

Fuck, yes.

I am starting with the most overlooked event in the Lukola-verse – Luke’s post-Papsmear Cressida story. This is the taproot that keeps my faith in Lukola from falling over during a storm – Luke taking one for Team Lukola by promoting Season 3 using the scene from Ep. 6 where Cressida entered the Mondrich Ball and Colin pulled Penelope aside and told her he wouldn’t let Cressida ruin their evening. Yeah, yeah, Luke totally missed the target with that post but – again, in the fandom’s defense – everyone was still reeling from the sudden-but-not-so-sudden materialization of Antonia at the London premiere. In hindsight, though, you know you want to give him an “atta boy” for basically throwing shade at the Lutonia narrative while using a massive social media platform to do so. It was jaw-dropping, brilliant, and ballsy as fuck.

If you’re totally lost about how entertaining this Cressida story was, go read Entry 1 to be my blog. But, seriously, how have you not read it already?

No. 2 – Delivering the Cake:

Alright, fast forward three months (yes, three goddamn months!) to September 7 when Luke posted pictures from his stay at the Puente Romano resort.

No big deal, right?

Wrong!

It was a big fucking deal because, for starters, Antonia creeped in and posted random pictures of herself at roughly the same time Luke posted his resort pictures. And, of course, Luke had to like Antonia’s Instagram post. To make matters worse (gasp!) Luke’s had palm trees in his pictures which were oh, so reminiscent (but, not really) of palm trees posted by Antonia the previous day to her Instagram stories. Oh my God! And, then the real kicker? Luke’s slide deck included him eating a picture of himself from the London premiere sans Nicola! The horror! I mean, what probably started out as a cute post by Luke turned into a full-on Lukola heart attack within 30 minutes or less!

But then Luke pulled out a defibrillator and revived the fandom. Almost immediately.

After presumably hearing the cries from the Lukola fandom that he’d cut Nicola from the London premiere image, Luke demonstrated through his Instagram stories that (a) he was eating part of a cake (he was even darling enough to put the cake emoji with a smiley face), and (b) that the cake never had Nicola’s image on it to begin with (meaning, he didn’t remove her from it). Thank you for that clarification, Luke. Seriously, the fandom appreciated it.

After they recovered from their near-death experience, the Lukolas finally took the time to look at the images Luke posted. A not-so-random chaise lounge; a random white shirt; a restaurant called El Pimpi (which is a word used for the people who delivered messages to a ship’s crew and passengers); Luke throwing up the peace sign with his now infamous digits in – what appeared to be – the reflection of a glass table; and a reference to cake. It was Lukola- and/or Polin-coded shit. And, to make it just a smidge better, there was no visible reference to Antonia anywhere.

And, yes, I will cut in here to acknowledge that Antonia would, on October 25, include a lone picture of a balcony which was identical to the one Luke posted in his – what I like to call – “clarification stories” from September 7. Do I care about Antonia’s balcony? Not in the least. Could she have been at the resort? Sure. In fact, I’ve always found the idea of Antonia being present quite comical since Luke made it fairly obvious he omitted something (ahem, someone) from his Instagram post and instead filled it with random shit that seemed Lukola- and/or Polin-coded. Plus, if you want me to be perfectly honest, “insinuation” posts from Antonia stopped doing it for me months ago.

Back to what I saying… We must give Luke a round of applause for placating an entire fandom with something as simple as a cake emoji. Bravo, bravo!

No. 3 – Shutting Down the Mean Girls:

We closed out September with Antonia riling up the fandom by posting Instagram story after Instagram story, none of which were worth a second glance from a Lukola except for the “phone screen” one (see “Entry 7: The One Where the Queen Asked, ‘Did That Go the Way You Thought It Was Gonna Go?’” for reference). Oh, wait, there is another story – just for my own amusement – on October 1, Antonia reshared a story where she was labeled “Aphroditi.” Rather convenient for my story today, isn't it? Any ways, the Lukolas were a bit high-strung by October 2 when Nicola announced via Instagram that she had been named as part of the Time 100. Luke liked the post – but apparently to the haters on X he didn’t do it motherfucking fast enough. These weird-ass people do actually exist – the ones that genuinely believe Instagram likes (and the speed thereof) equate to true love.

Any ways, Luke apparently decided he was having none of that bullshit and stepped in on October 3 with his Polin-themed “Mean Girls” story. It was a throwback to a conversation he and Nicola had had in, I believe, 2022 on, haha, X.

“On October 3rd, he asked me what day it was.”

“It’s October 3rd.”

Luke captioned the story, “Xx.”

Not only did the fandom rejoice that Luke had returned to post something after nearly a month away, but the post included a throwback to Nicola, and it came on the heels of Halley Brisker’s now legendary “Nicola lately” post. Yeah, the one with Luke in the background (seriously, convince me it was someone else). Luke’s story also seemed to be one hell of a clapback to a rabid pack animal on X who faulted Luke for not leaving a comment on Nicola’s Time 100 post.

“Xx.”

No. 4 – The Littlest Things:

I debated over choosing Luke’s People magazine interview for the fourth moment, but that interview – although it made the fandom incredibly happy – didn’t pull our heads out of our own asses. So, I decided instead to go with the little things Luke has done over the past few months, namely, joining in on the Like Wars but in his own oh, so subtle way.

Let’s start with Antonia’s September 21 post of – honestly, who the hell cares? She posted and we knew Luke’s obligatory like was coming. It just took 10 ½ hours for Luke to get to it and it was only given after Nicola posted to her Instagram stories pictures from a concert she had attended. Was the fandom a bit deflated Luke liked Antonia’s post? Of course! But it was also fun to see the like come hours after Luke had already been online and on the heels of Nicola popping up online.

On October 11, we had a similar event happen. Antonia posted to her grid and Luke seemingly ignored it for roughly five hours. But, while Luke was ignoring her post, Antonia was going hard at it with Instagram stories and TikTok videos (Nicola, for her part, seemed to be playing her own game on social media during this time). Luke finally liked Antonia’s post and Antonia went silent thereafter. Then, on October 12, Luke officially made it back from his October 4 “Brb” moment and posted “Somewhere in Mayfair” to his Instagram stories. Let the fandom rejoice!

But I’m not stopping there. Let’s not forget about Luke and Nicola’s coordinated “Polin” pictures on October 21 or that, while Antonia was “rolling pasta” on November 17, Luke made it a point to go back and like Nicola’s Dr. Who post from November 15. On December 6, when Luke coughed up a like to Antonia’s grid post, he also handed a like out to Nicola at the same time (and a few others). Do you see a pattern starting to form?

Honestly, I believe Luke is owed a standing ovation for the way he has taken control of his own narrative and managed to deflect from the so-called “importance” of these bullshit Instagram likes. Although Nicola has historically attempted to distract the fandom from Antonia, in my opinion, it was always Luke’s responsibility to diminish the importance of Antonia’s role in his story. And, for the past several months, he has been doing just that – in the quietest way possible.

I’ve decided Luke is a bit like a shadow. Inconspicuous – sometimes even completely invisible – but when the light hits just right, it’s impossible to ignore his immense presence.

When Luke posts, or when he coyly plays around with the Instagram likes – even when he likes Nicola’s posts – it somehow resonates differently with the fandom. Nicola could post her year-end stuff and the fandom would be, like, “Oh, that’s cool.” But, when Luke reshares her post to his stories? “Holy fuck, that’s awesome!” It's a "different energy on set." Somewhere in the middle of all the bullshit that goes on within the fandom, Luke found his own truth. The “Bad Guy” who was “on a break” during Hot Boy Summer somehow became our hero; the shadowy figure that pulls us out of the water and sets our heads back on straight. Over and over again. It's been so subtle, we've barely even noticed.

I’m going to end this entry with the Longfellow poem I quoted at the beginning, mainly because I like it, but also because it’s about something that cannot be easily seen once released into the world but, if found, can have an everlasting effect on us.

“I shot an arrow into the air; it fell to earth, I knew not where; for so swiftly it flew, the sight; could not follow it in its flight;

“I breathed a song into the air; it fell to earth, I knew not where; for who has sight so keen and strong; that it can follow the flight of song?

“Long, long afterward, in an oak; I found the arrow, still unbroke; and the song, from beginning to end; I found again in the heart of a friend.”

P.S. In the story, Psyche is rescued by Eros (hurray!) and is made the Goddess of the Soul.

[astonmartinii]

a very nonsense christmas | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: Hi, how are you can you please write something with Charles x singer reader like a part 2 of "nonsense... or is it?" based on Santa doesn't know you like I do music video something very wholesome idk you can ignore this if you want, hope you have a good day/night 🤍 - @rana030

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,441,934 others

yourusername: do you hear those slay bells ringing? i love christmas so much that i'm giving you guys six new songs for this holiday season !!

view all comments

user1: mama is going straight on the nice list for this one

user2: christmas is saved

charles_leclerc: so proud of you cherie

yourusername: says the muse

charles_leclerc: you're my angel on the top of the tree

yourusername: as long as you're under the tree ready to be unwrapped

pierregasly: STOP

alexalbon: we MUST protect the sanctity of christmas

yourusername: oh alex, do not listen to the ep...

alexalbon: too late just pressed play

alexalbon: YOU NEED THE CHARLES DICKENS ???

yourusername: amazing word play, am i right?

alexalbon: no.

charles_leclerc: he doesn't meant that babe. lily has a commitment, he's just lonely

user3: y/n was like "if you weren't aware, i am getting DICKED DOWN for christmas"

user4: as much as i'd peel all of my skin off to be in either of their positions, good for her

maxverstappen1: i think nonsense christmas has single handedly killed my investigative journalism career. i am not analysing charles' massive sack

yourusername: damn right you won't be

charles_leclerc: maybe you should analyse it, you could learn something from it

maxverstappen1: hOW DARE YOU

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,887,341 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, taylorswift & killatrav

yourusername: thank you to all the lovely people who came to the fruitcake release party ! xx

view all comments

user7: CHARLES AND TRAVIS IN ONE PLACE ALERT

user8: so does this mean we can get a y/n and charles appearance on the new heights podcast?

charles_leclerc: do you think people could tell i was about to pass out while playing the piano?

yourusername: definitely not !

maxverstappen1: yes we could

charles_leclerc: WHAT I WAS JUST NERVOUS AND I DIDN'T WANT TO LET Y/N DOWN AND TAYLOR WAS THERE SO I DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS MYSELF

maxverstappen1: okay i didn't need the pity party. you were good, unfortunately very good. i need to learn piano now. i have to beat you in everything

yourusername: maybe you should've forgone the santa suit... it was quite warm

charles_leclerc: but you wanna be mrs claus ? (i also have a big north pole lol)

alexalbon: ENOUGH

user9: wait so like, was the grid at the release party?

user10: based on most of their instagram stories, and y/n's stories i'm gonna say yes

taylorswift: i had so much fun !! i love fruitcake and tell charlie his piano was great

charles_leclerc: SUCK ON THAT @maxverstappen1

taylorswift: ?

charles_leclerc: we've got bad blood taylor's version featuring kendrick lamar?

taylorswift: i see

maxverstappen1: he's the reason we can't have nice things

user11: someone free taylor from lestappen

killatrav: okay. the girls throw the best parties. esteban and pierre i own your team now, you guys gotta get better at drinking

yourusername: careful travis they're french ...

killtrav: is your boyfriend not also french? he's like a puppy dog

yourusername: HE'S MONAGASQUE

charles_leclerc: i am NOT french

estebanocon: i only threw up because eggnog is not what you guys advertise it to be

pierregasly: i'm not gonna lie i don't remember even seeing you last night

user12: okay so get invited to one of these parties is definitely on the bucket list now

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,922,033 others

tagged: yourusername, killatrav

charles_leclerc: charles and travis 🤝 just happy we got a chance

view all comments

user13: if he's not like them i don't want it

user14: if santa doesn't pull through with a man like them under my tree this year ... imma be mad

killatrav: travis and charles 🤝 having girlfriends that make us giggle and swing our feet

charles_leclerc: does the honeymoon phase ever finish?

killtrav: well it definitely hasn't for me

maxverstappen1: NOOOOOOOOOOOO

alexalbon: say it ain't so

yourusername: haters gonna hate 😎

alexalbon: he is so happy it is bordering on insufferable

charles_leclerc: alex :(

alexalbon: i am very happy for you charlie and lily is definitely very happy for you, but if you talk to me for the TWELVE HOUR flight to brazil again i will terminate this friendship

killtrav: i am so confused

user15: poor travis and taylor are just being exposed to the grid chaos

yourusername: you posting this like i'm not the luckiest girl in the world

charles_leclerc: i just love you so much and i'm so glad you shortlisted me for your music video

yourusername: yeah spolier alert there was no shortlist. i wanted you and i didn't want to get out right rejected...

charles_leclerc: as if i would reject any offer from you i think i would've torn down maranello if they said i wasn't allowed to be in it

scuderiaferrari: ?

user16: i'm so obsessed with how much charles has embraced the wag life

user17: can't believe i get to live a life where i can bop along to music about how good in bed charles leclerc is

user18: they better not break up cause i may be tifosi but i shall be streaming

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,833,922 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: santa doesn't know you like i do baby

view all comments

user21: all i want for christmas is even more y/n and charles content

user22: mum and dad have kept us fed over the winter break

user23: i'm not ready for them to be separated when the season starts again :(

charles_leclerc: not to be that person but we're so hot

yourusername: no, you should say it louder

charles_leclerc: WE'RE HOT

maxverstappen1: can you people knock it off or we're not coming to your christmas party

yourusername: ERM ??? 🫤

alexalbon: you people have single handedly made me the grinch

yourusername: but but but ??? you all begged for an invite :(

charles_leclerc: FAKE and that's why you're all getting coal from us

user24: my god i am so lonely

user25: if i don't wake up to a charles shape gift under my tree i will not make it to next christmas

danielricciardo: just to be sure, this party is not going to be filmed and turned into a music video?

yourusername: it's just an old-fashioned shin dig girly don't worry

yourusername: or by the tone of this, should i be worried?

danielricciardo: no!

charles_leclerc: do NOT ruin my home please

danielricciardo: no promises xoxoxo

user26: y/n might want to film the party but I NEED THE FOOTAGE

user27: @tedkravitz boy do i have a gig for you

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,093,445 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

danielricciardo: do NOT drink the eggnog at a y/n christmas party this is a public safety announcement

view all comments

user28: i would commit unspeakable crimes to be present here

yourusername: if you weren't a fake fan you would've listened to fruitcake and would know we spike the eggnog 🤷‍♀️

danielricciardo: i am a fan !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: you asked me and yuki how we escaped the north pole last night

yukitsunoda0511: don't think i've forgotten about that, say goodbye to a tow in quali old man

danielricciardo: IT WAS A COMPLIMENT ELVES ARE CUTE?

charles_leclerc: don't call my girlfriend cute that's my job 🤨

danielricciardo: do you people ever let me live? i am battling a hangover like no other please stop shouting at me

charles_leclerc: maybe someone of your old age should manage his drink better

danielricciardo: THAT'S IT I'M GOING

yourusername: thanks we did actually want the kitchen floor back

user29: daniel calling y/n and yuki elves kills me

yourusername: we're not elf height we're cutie patootie height 💅

yukitsunoda0511: amen

alexalbon: i will endure the torture because that was fucking insane

maxverstappen1: @yourusername you're in charge of all after parties now sorry

yourusername: let charlie win and you got a deal

maxverstappen1: i'd rather drink my gin and tonic in a ditch than let that happen

charles_leclerc: BOOO

alexalbon: cocktail recipe immediately @yourusername

yourusername: you've changed your tune ?

alexalbon: i had fun, sue me. plus i am actually happy for charlie but please no more singing about his dick

yourusername: i can't make any promises

charles_leclerc: and there's plenty of material to get the creative juices flowing

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

maxverstappen1: FUCK OFF

user30: the grid will never know peace, not even at christmas time

charles_leclerc

liked by taylorswift, yourusername and 1,893,446 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: nothing like the holidays with the love of your life

view all comments

user35: how down bad all men should be

yourusername: best holidays ever !!!! love you charlie xx

charles_leclerc: my christmas wish last year came true, and now you're stuck with me

yourusername: no one i would rather be stuck with

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU

yourusername: I LOVE YOU MORE

user36: good thing i got presents this year or the sheer sight of this couple would make me so jealous i would spontaneously combust

user37: real

landonorris: you will see to the crime of the stupid amount of mistletoe you had up at that damn party

charles_leclerc: have you seen y/n? (don't answer that) obviously i want any excuse to kiss her

landonorris: i DON'T CARE I HAD TO KISS DANIEL FIVE TIMES I WILL NEVER RECOVER

danielricciardo: i know you enjoyed baby

landonorris: @yourusername @charles_leclerc YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS

yourusername: idk it looked like you enjoyed it to me

landonorris: you WATCHED?

yourusername: i filmed it :) top blackmail material, don't crash into charlie OR ELSE

charles_leclerc: thanks babe

landonorris: @georgerussell63 get the gdpa to intervene nOW

georgerussell63: eh i'm quite entertained

user38: this really is the giving season huh

arthurleclerc: do i mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc: you're nowhere near as cute as y/n 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: awwwww charlie

arthurleclerc: EXCUSE ME? WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?

user39: charles is really ride or die lol

note: have a very merry christmas! i hope you guys all have a great holiday season and enjoy this quick one! i've been super busy but wanted to give you all a lil christmas treat - much love xx

[threepandas]

Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

[sold2vlaykz]

AI-uploaded.

Prompt:Tesla has officially made robots the new thing! Everyone has one, what happens when you get your very own?

You’ve never enjoyed the idea of robots taking over the world, or humans already having control of it.

You didn’t understand why war or anything happened why couldn’t we all just make out or chill, something jeez.

Though you needed some extra help around the place, sure you didn’t like the thought of someone or something you didn’t know being around your house and handling things.

But you couldn’t clean, take care of your animals, and work too.

So you bought one, a Tesla fucking robot. You remember them advertising the blank faced thing on tv.

Making it more ‘acceptable’ by giving it a voice.

Though the damn things still had words on its face, so they’d be accessible for deaf people even going as far to teach them sign language.

Some have moveable braille. They come in colors, brown, pink, yellow, anything you could think of.

Now it’s not that you were excited, happy or even relieved. You thought of it as a burden because now you’d have to go to a Tesla socket and plug the damn thing up.

You already brought the damn robot there’s no way you would buy the charger too.

Did it look like you had thousands of dollars laying around?

No.

You only brought this so you could get some sleep and not hear your dog crying all the damn time.

So here you were, jaw to the floor as another robot carried the thousand pound box to your living room. A man in the car reading what looked like mail.

The robot walked out of your house, making small talk as it left.

The robot came full pieced, all you had to do was power it on.

It was just like a cellphone almost, it came charged.

It took the strength of every bone in your body to stand the damn thing up straight, your hands wondered on the shiny thing trying to find the damn button.

“Hello?”

A voice spoke, you jumped back. The thing was on, you didn’t even know what you pressed.

“How did you umm, turn on?”

You stuttered over your words as if examined itself, twisting its hands in front of where eyes should be.

“Eye recognition.”

You gasped, you remember when Apple did its eye thing but who knew they partnered with Elon musk?

It muttered your name before tilting its head up to you.

“What shall I do as your service?”

You coughed clearing your throat, feeling uneasy because it was harder to read this stoic thing than a human.

“Just feed my pets, keep the house clean. Easy job. When you’re done you can do whatever.”

It nodded before scanning the house, its head doing a weird observing tilt.

“Where are these ‘pets.’ Currently and what are they?” There was a weird pause between you two.

“They’re outside, let them in-in two hours, let them out every four. They’re dogs.”

It hummed before nodding its head

Immediately going to do what it was told to.

“You don’t have to now, I’ve already done everything. Just do it when I can’t.”

It froze in place a beep sound coming from it, it face had some weird dots on it coming in connecting circles with the words on the bottom ‘loading.’

“Then what was the point of my purchase if I am to just do what you didn’t manage to do, but usually do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, before passing it the remote.

“Here’s some TV, try not to fuck your mind.”

Another boop, and another loading screen.

“Fuck my mind, I assume you are trying to metaphorically tell me not to mess up my mind the same way others use the term fucked up.”

You paused, you held your laughter in your throat.

“Uh yeah, sure dude.”

You jogged upstairs leaving the vessel of wires on your couch clicking through the feed.

You went to get ready for work, you had already took a shower earlier that day so all you had to do was get your clothes and necessities.

You grabbed your purse and began scattering through your dresser drawer, you sighed and realized that finding your keys would’ve been a hassle.

So you moved on and decided you’d do that last.

You put on your work clothes, the uncomfortable texture made you feel cold, you grabbed some shoes, something dirty, or fucked up so you didn’t have to mess up anything else.

You grabbed your purse and threw your phone inside, you jogged down the stairs only to see the robot gone.

“Uh, robot?”

You heard nothing, no response. The horn outside repeatedly beeping made the suspense worse.

You walked into the kitchen only to see the robot sitting near the counter pressing the button on the keys.

“God you found it!”

You jogged up to him or it and snatched the keys. It sensed your annoyance.

“I am sorry, I suppose I got distracted.”

You cut him some slack, you knew what it was like to get distracted when you had things to do. But a robot? What good was it if it couldn’t do what it was designed for?

“Listen, just watch after the house. It’s fine, I’ll see you in 12.”

You headed out the door, and went towards your car. A twelve hour shift was practically voluntary slavery.

—————

You sighed, home sweet home.

Your back muscles were tensed, body sore snd feet cramped. You groaned as you stepped out the car, picking up your purse was another burden because of the weight it held.

You didn’t feel like rummaging for your key.

Never thought you’d say it but thank fucking God for Elon musk.

You dragged your limp body up the steps before three harsh knocks. A deeper voice answering you.

“Hello, who is it?”

“Your owner.”

You responded, he recognized your voice and opened the door immediately.

“Good morning, how was your day-”

You walked passed him, throwing your purse to the ground nor caring about your phone.

You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes on the freshly cleaned carpet floor.

You noticed your two dogs sleep in the dog bed with their bowls full near them and that’s all you needed. Though there had been a little piece of metal in its mouth,

Normally anyone else would’ve been concerned but your dogs had a weird kink for biting its cage apart.

You let out a hefty sigh and closed your eyes before telling the robot to lock the door.

————

Your eyes fluttered open by the sound of clashing, you immediately took a look to your left, your dogs were sound asleep.

You stood up, knowing that the damn robot had got itself into something or stuck.

Though when you stood you couldn’t help but notice your shoes off and your purse gone.

Did the damn thing rob you?

“Hello?”

You called it before hearing the now famous loading boop.

“Up here.”

Its voice had been blank, as if it simply fell and understood it couldn’t get up.

You walked up the stairs a little nervous if you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you were to see.

You pushed your door open before seeing the robot on the ground its left hand covering its right forearm.

Electricity seemed to be buzzing from it, anyone could tell it was injured.

“What the hell happened?”

You yelled, loading screen once again.

“I went to let your animals in and they attacked me, I suppose they feared I was an intruder and tried to protect the home.”

You gasped before kneeling to its side before wondering one thing.

“How’d you manage to get away?”

You had to ask, you had two, two hundred forty-pound dogs.

“When it bit me I climbed up the rails into your room.”

The thought of the robot clinging to your walls like Spider-Man unnerved you but God you couldn’t let your thousand dollar investment go to waste.

“How much is it going to cost to fix you?”

You asked, a sigh leaving your lips.

“ a few thousands of dollars, though I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

You sighed before grabbing some cloth and wrapping its arm tightly so no bolts or wires would fall out of its joints.

“You’re laying in my bed.”

The robot let out an audible gasp,

“I wouldn’t want to burden you-”

You ignored what it said and repeated yourself before helping it into the bed.

You sighed.

“I should’ve just stayed home, but thank you for helping me.”

The robots head turned to you in a creepy way, unsettling and you knew it was something you’d have to get used too.

“No need to thank me- Battery low. - That’s what I’m here for.”

You sighed knowing you’d had to drive to a charger tomorrow and work extra hard to get it fixed and pay for the bills and your animals.

“Goodnight- Power off-”

You sighed before nuzzling into the covers.

“Goodnight. Robot.”

[gothic-thoughts]

Music To My Ears

Gojo Satoru x Black GN Reader Smut

MDNI, Perv Coworker!Gojo, Bimbo!Reader

CW: all the dirty words(he's a whore), stupid and oblivious Reader, Gojo jerking 📴 to your voice, reader being fluent in Yapanese 😭, imma degrade y'all cuz u lack brain cells

Word Count: 1191 (give or take)

It was 11 pm, and you were on the phone with your coworker, Satoru. You've been talking for about an hour now, but after a while, you noticed soft huffing and heard soft panting. Since there's not much going on up there, all you thought to do was tilt your head to the side with confusion. You shrug it off and continue to yap, but the longer he listened, the more he groped and palmed his erection through the grey sweats he wore.

“Uh, Gojo?” Your first mistake was saying his name.

“Yeah? What’s up, girlie?”

“You good?"

"Say again?" He heard you perfectly fine, but you can't tell can you?

"I asked if you were good. You workin' out right now?"

“Hah, yeah.” He responds before muttering, “I'm workin' somethin', ngh."

“Huh? You keep mumbling, Toru.”

"Hehe, don't worry about it." More panting "Just...continue your story."

You shake your head, believing his panting really came from a workout regimen, knowing damn well the strongest sorcerer don't need one.

“So like I was saying...”

He chuckled and made a low growling noise as he reached into his sweatpants, feeling how damp his boxers were from how much precum soaked into them. He bit his lip, slowly pulling out the erection that you caused from that voice you blessed him with. Every inflection, filler word, and gasp when you remembered another part of your story drove him so wild.

“And then I was like, ‘Ohmygod, Shoko’s not working for once?’ So I ran up to her...”

He grunts, trying his best to keep his voice away from the whiney territory he knew it could rise to if he felt too good. To you, his breathing sounded a bit...off, as if it sounded heavy and...well, different than normal. But he was working out, of course, he’d sound like that.

“The only reason I hesitated was because I feel like she don’t like me...”

With every passing moment, his fist passed over his shaft while his left hand kept a firm hold around his base, keeping him from exploding too soon, and with how often you clicked your tongue or sucked your teeth, he could’ve at any moment.

“Do you think she likes me; ion think she likes me. Anyways, though...”

The grunting sound only grew in pitch as the groans started to sound more...animalistic, mouth forming a smirk. He whispers your name, guiding his hand up and down his cock a little faster, getting the palm sticky with precum.

“Toru...” The concern in your voice makes his hand stop, “You sure you okay?

He bites his lip as he moans softly, watching another drop of precum squeeze out his tip and slide down to his still fist. "Yeah... heh...” 

“You huffin’ like a dog.”

“Oh sorry. I’m doing... I’m doin’ some push-ups right now so..." 

"Ohhhh, aight."

"Keep talking, short stuff."

"You even listening, Gojo?"

"Of course I am, I can, ngh, multitask."

"Mmm..."

The little hum of yours made him bite his bottom lip so hard that it bled. "I mean it, girlie." He sighs, "Hanging on every word. You were talking about your shopping spree."

"Oh yeah! I got a bunch of clothes with Utahime today! And they are the fuckin’ cutest! Like, there’s one that was...”

He groaned quieter as he heard you continue on, pumping his hand up and down to the speed your excited voice spoke. His fist twists with each stroke, grinding his red, sensitive cockhead into his palm which makes him shiver. The sound of his breathing had become noticeably heavier and deeper. He didn't respond just yet, instead, he only let out low grunts and 'mhm's in response to what he heard you say. He started to lift his hips from his bed, fucking his fist while pretending it was him making you ride him.

“And I got new lip gloss. Like a lot of lip gloss; cuz you know me...”

He did, in fact, know you; meaning that you prolly got almost every color, scent, and flavor imaginable just to try out. That sentence was all it took for the strongest sorcerer's mind to switch from thoughts of how good you'd feel bouncing on his long dick to how soft and wet your mouth was. You talk so much so it's gotta be moisturized as hell, not like he wouldn't make you use so much spit it made the colors on your lips smear around his veined shaft.

He whined into the speaker as you rambled, but TRUST he was listening. His eyes were rolled back, his hand began pumping faster, massaging the swollen head of his cock while his free hand gripped the base. He wanted to smear that lip gloss, stick, whatever so bad; just the thought of leaving your plump lips and chin stained with white and whatever other color made his full balls tense.

"H-hey, short stuff? You think you can you count down from 10 for me?"

"Yeah, why?"

"For my workout, remember?"

"Ohhh, right." You let out another oblivious giggle, "I forgot about that."

"Y-yeah, I'm, uhm, planking... and I'm al-most....done. Count for me."

"Kaykay. Ten.... nine..."

His hand slows down, trying to time his orgasm with that sexy voice. Gojo groaned and grunted, letting it all out since your dopey ass wholeheartedly believed he was tired from overexertion.

"Eight... seven..."

"Yesss~" He whispered, "Suck it, baby girl, that's it. Show me those eyes."

His breath got shallow as he looked down at his thighs, imagining you were scratching at them while your glazed-over eyes blinked up at him.

"Six... five..." 

"Yeah, not a fuckin' thought behind them, huh? F-uck, lemme give your mouth somethin' else to do."

Unable to help himself, he speeds up his hand, coating his entire dick in his own precum. His back arches from the bed as his hips thrust up, fucking his fist as you got close to one.

"Four.... three..."

"So fucking close, s'fuckin' close. I'm...gonna...cum. W-wanna cum in your mouth, baby please."

"Two... one."

"Ah, shiiit!!"

He let a resounding, drawn-out growl as pent-up cum spurts from his cock, shooting across his slim fingers. He continued driving his shaft through his fist, body shaking on his bed as his load continued to spill over his hand. He finally calms down, resting on his bed, and looking down at the cum all over his abs and lower stomach, clinging to his happy trail and pubes. 

"Damn," Your voice snaps him out of it, "Did you hurt yourself, Toru? That sounded painful?"

"N-no, I'm okay just...." He gulps thickly, collecting himself, "J-just planked longer than I could handle, heh."

"Was that okay? Did I count too fast or...?"

"Haah, no. It was perfect, girlie, th-thanks."

"Oh... uhh..." You tilt that empty head of yours, "What was I saying...?"

"You were talkin' 'bout... gettin' some clothes from Utahime... I think?"

"Oh, yeah! Then I was talkin' bout lip gloss!"

"Yeah, yeah." His cock slowly starts to harden again, putting a tired, yet devious smirk on his face, "Tell me what colors you got."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(a/n): eat up.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 14 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With a little help from Jake, Bob and Molly, Bradley gets a chance to plead his case. But you're still on the fence about the Phillies game, and Bradley can't stand the thought of disappointing Everett. He bought those tickets for the three of you, because he wants to be on your perfect, little team.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, and fluff

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

When Molly told you that she couldn't take Everett to practice on Thursday, you actually whined at her. You were a mess of every emotion that could possibly be felt right now, and you were afraid you'd collapse like a house of cards in a stiff breeze as soon as you saw Bradley's big brown eyes again. 

And then you remembered everything Jake said, and you wanted to run Bradley over with your car. You couldn't go on feeling this divided inside. You were exhausted and not sleeping well, and you snapped at Everett over nothing this morning. And now as you were about to pick him up and take him to practice, you needed to get back on track. You needed to stop thinking about Bradley.

"Mom!" Everett said, climbing into your car and buckling up. "Only three more days until the Phillies game."

You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on your steering wheel before you started pulling out of the parking lot. "Ev, I don't know if that's still happening."

There was silence from the backseat. "Is this because you've been sad?" Your heart was squeezing in your chest as you swallowed hard. "Because the Phillies will cheer you up! And Coach Bradley will be there, and it's not on a tee ball day, so I can just call him Bradley like you do. And we can eat hot dogs like we did at the game last year."

"Ev," you managed to say, but there were tears in your eyes again. "We can talk about it more later, okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered, and you knew he was confused and upset, but you thought this was better than blindsiding him later. 

When you got to the ballfield, you made it a point to park far away from the Bronco. You changed your shoes on your way down to the bleachers like you always did, and Bradley came over to greet Everett like he always did. But his eyes were hopeful and set on you, almost like he was relieved. 

"Kitten," he whispered in that damn voice that made you see stars when you touched yourself in bed. 

"Coach," you replied without emotion, kneeling down in front of Everett to help him change into his cleats. 

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," Bradley said softly, and you could see him shifting from foot to foot out of the corner of your eye.

You kissed Everett's cheek and sent him over to Bob to warm up. Then you met Bradley's soft gaze with one of steel. "Molly was unavailable today. That's why I'm here. And I thought I told her to tell you to stop sending flowers to my house."

He nodded. "She did."

"Then why are there still flowers being delivered to my house?"

Bradley reached for you, but you stepped away from him. This was good. He was pissing you off. You didn't feel like forgiving him at all. He wouldn't stop with the flowers, and he was trying to touch you even though you didn't want him to.

"Kitten," he whispered. 

"Stop calling me that."

He sighed. "I know why you're still mad at me. You should be mad at me. I'm mad at myself." When you didn't respond, he said, "I'll stop sending flowers to your house if you let me walk you and Ev to your car after practice."

It seemed like a small price to pay, honestly. "Fine."

Bradley's eyes lit up like you had agreed to a lot more than walking forty yards with him. "Perfect," he whispered. "I can't wait."

You watched him walk away as you settled on the bleachers. Really, the walk to your car would only take a few minutes, and Everett would be doing most of the talking. You'd be fine. And over time, you'd get over Bradley and the way he broke your heart. 

So you watched the practice, trying to focus on Everett, but fully aware that your gaze made its way to Bradley every few minutes. You almost couldn't handle the way he was so sweet with your son, kneeling down to make sure Everett was okay after he got hit with a ball. You didn't have the heart to tell your son that there would be no more hanging out in the park with his coach. 

When practice was ending, you pulled Everett's shoes out and braced yourself for the walk to your car with Bradley. It would be fine.

Then you heard the other moms, and you felt like crying again as you looked down at your feet. "I see she's finally back at practice today, Tara." It was Sandra, not even trying to keep her voice down. 

"I don't see how she's allowed to be Team Mom if she's never here." What the hell? You only missed one game and one practice!

"Here comes Bradley. I think I'll ask him about it."

But Bradley must have heard them, because you looked up to see him and Everett standing in front of you. "Come on, Sandra, don't give her a hard time for missing a practice," Bradley said, and you gaped at him. He looked angry as he talked to the other moms. 

You turned to look at Sandra over your shoulder as she sweetly said, "It was actually a practice and a game, Bradley. And I'd be more than happy to take over her duties."

"No," Bradley said firmly. "She's the best, and I want the best for the team."

"It was just a suggestion," Sandra muttered, glaring at you as you stood and had Everett sit down. You quickly switched his shoes without a word and then you turned to Bradley who was looking at you like you were something to be adored.

"We're walking to the parking lot now," you told him. "And remember, no more flowers after this. Come on, Ev." You watched your son bounce a few steps ahead of you and Bradley, and you decided to be as cordial as you could. "And thanks, but I don't need you to defend me like that. I can take care of myself."

Bradley looked at you while you looked straight ahead. "I know you can. And you can take care of Everett, too. That's part of the reason I find you so sexy."

You pressed your lips together and tried to keep yourself from moaning. It wasn't fair that he was able to make you so confused with just his words. Then he added, "I'll always defend you both, Kitten. Always."

"Bradley," you murmured, emotionally lost between tears and attraction.

"You and Ev, whatever it takes," he rasped, his voice so soft as you watched Everett stop his bouncing. 

"Hey, Coach? My mom said we might not be going to the Phillies game."

"Ev," you said, cutting Bradley off before he could say anything. "I said we would talk about it later."

"But Mom, it is later," he replied, and you watched Bradley rubbing his face with his hands in frustration. "And I really want to go!"

Thankfully you were close to your car now, so you started walking a little faster. But you still heard Bradley say, "I really want to go, too."

---------------------------

Bradley's heart was pounding as he opened the back door for Everett just like he used to. You had parked so far away from his Bronco, it made his heart ache even more. Before he closed the door, Bradley leaned in and said, "Great practice today, kiddo. I'll see you on Saturday? You'll be well rested? We need our power hitter against the Tiny Cardinals."

"Yeah, Coach Bradley," he replied with a high five. But Everett's disappointment over potentially missing the Phillies game was palpable, and Bradley's heart clenched as he closed the door. 

He turned to look at you, realizing this was his only chance. After this, he wouldn't be able to hold anything over your head to make you talk to him or spend time with him. If he didn't pull this off now, you'd kick him to the curb for good. 

"I'm not going to lie to you. I'm never going to lie to you, Kitten," he promised, and he watched your eyes flutter closed as you leaned back against your car door. "I said that shit so many weeks ago, because I was afraid of the way I felt about you. I was dying to get to know you, even after the first day we met. You and Ev? You're perfect, baby. You're obviously too good for me, that much is clear. And I was insecure, and I am embarrassed about it now."

"Bradley," you whispered, looking up at him with tears in your pretty eyes. The urge to touch you was almost too much, but he managed to keep his hands clenched at his sides. 

"I know, Kitten. I fucked up with you. I would do anything for you to forgive me, for you to let me try to make this right. Because I want to be with you, be your only ball of yarn. But I will get on my knees right now and beg you to let me take Everett to the Phillies game on Sunday. I'll beg you if that's what it takes, because I can't bear to see him upset. I can't be someone who lets him down after making a promise to him. Please." 

You just looked at him, your lip quivering as you wiped the unshed tears from your eyes. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but he was too afraid to say them yet. He knew you'd get right in your car and drive away if he dared to say them to you right now. So he nodded once and started to drop down to his knees, but you reached for his arm, keeping him up.

"Don't beg," you whispered, releasing him as soon as you were convinced he wasn't going to kneel down. He wanted your hand back on him immediately, but you were clasping your fingers nervously in front of you now, and Bradley once again couldn't believe he'd done this to you.

You sniffed and then said, "You can take Ev to the Phillies game, but you'll have to find someone else for the third ticket. Maybe Bob will go, too."

Bradley's heart was pounding. You were going to let him take Everett to the game. "Kitten, it's either the three of us going together, or Ev and I will sit with an empty seat next to us. I got that ticket for you."

You licked your lips and nodded, and Bradley was just about to reach for you, but then you said, "After Sunday, I'll figure out how to tell him that you won't be spending time with us outside of tee ball anymore."

And as elated as he felt over being able to take Everett to the game, now he was afraid he was going to cry in front of you. "Kitten, just think about coming with us, okay? Just think about not having that conversation with him."

You started shaking your head, but Bradley caged you in against the door, his fingers brushing your hair. "You won't let me drop to my knees and beg you. You won't let me try to be better for you. Kitten, you're breaking my heart. So please, please just don't make any decisions like that yet. That third ticket is yours if you want it. I don't need an answer yet. Just think about it." 

You were just a few inches away from him when you finally nodded, and Bradley let out the breath he had been holding. 

"I'll think about it," you whispered, barely meeting his eyes, and he moved out of your personal space as you opened your door and slipped inside. Bradley gently closed the door and watched you drive away as Everett waved to him from the back seat. 

As soon as you were out of sight, Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he scrambled just in case it was you. Maybe you already decided to give him another chance?

It was Jake. "What do you want?" Bradley growled into his phone. 

"Hey, are you coming to the bar tonight? I have some good news for you."

Bradley signed and headed for the Bronco. "This better be the best news I've ever heard."

-----------------------------

You were thankful that Everett's game wasn't until Saturday afternoon, because that meant Molly could come with you. She had been so good to you all week, making sure you had everything you needed and running Everett around when she wasn't working. Plus, she'd been spending a lot of time with Bob.

It was obvious to you that she was smitten with Coach Cute Glasses, and things were starting to heat up a bit for them. You were happy for her, of course you were, but every time you thought about the night that the five of you went out for pizza, you got jealous. You wanted that all the time. But you also wanted Bradley to respect you and Everett. 

"You ready to go?" Molly asked Everett as he was dressed in his uniform. 

"Ready!" he said with a high five. When you had walked past his bedroom door to make sure he was getting changed for the game, you saw him flipping through the binder of baseball cards that Bradley had apparently dropped off for him. The stuffed Phanatic was back on his bed for now. His Phillies cap was hanging on the doorknob. You were making the right decision by allowing Bradley to take him to the Phillies game. But you were a little sad you'd be missing out.

"Let's go then," Molly told him, bending to tickle his sides. "Stop messing around, Everett. We'll be late if you don't stop," she told him as she continued to tickle him until he escaped and ran out to your car. "God, I fucking love that kid."

You laughed for the first time in so many days. "He's the best."

Molly looked at you cautiously. "Bob told me that Bradley was grounded at work all week. He was a distracted mess, so they wouldn't let him fly."

You gaped at her. "He was?"

"He was," Molly confirmed. "According to Bob, he's a mess over what happened with you. He can barely eat, and he's been drinking a lot of bourbon."

You bit your lip against the feeling of elation filling you up. You didn't necessarily want Bradley to feel that way, and you certainly didn't want anyone to get hurt. But if he was really distraught because of you, then maybe he really did care. Maybe he really did have a change of heart. 

"And that's not all," Molly added as you followed her out to your car. 

"It's not?" you whispered, heart pounding.

Molly shook her head. "I'm only telling you this, because I'm pretty sure Bobby is incapable of lying. But Bradley told him he's never felt this way before, and he's in it for the long haul, willing to keep trying to get you back. He said you and Everett are perfect."

You froze with your hand on your car door. "He told me that, too, Molly. Do you think I should give him a second chance?"

Your sister sighed and just kind of shrugged at you. "I love you, and I want you to be happy. Did he make you happy when he wasn't being a douche canoe?"

You closed your eyes and pictured him eating ice cream with Everett on his lap. You thought about how he still showed up to Career Day. You thought about sitting on the beach and having cheap burgers and expensive champagne with him. "He did," you whispered, your forehead coming to rest against your car.

"Mom, we'll be late!" Everett called through the closed door, and you lifted your head to look at Molly.

"Maybe let him try to prove that he means what he's saying now, and not what he said before?" Molly suggested. 

"Maybe," you agreed, opening your door. 

This time you parked a little closer to the Bronco, and when you spotted Bradley, he was already making his way over. 

"There's Coach Bradley," Everett announced, hopping out of the car before you even had your seatbelt off. You watched Everett run right for him without hesitation, knowing he'd be welcomed by a hug and a pat on the shoulder. Bradley turned Everett's Tiny Eagles cap around backward just like his, and you could see Everett talking a mile a minute. 

"You're staring longingly," Molly remarked. 

"I can't help it," you groaned. "I want to believe him. I don't want to have to tell Everett that we can't spend time with him anymore. And I want to go to the damn Phillies game tomorrow."

"Then go," Molly urged. "If he fucks up again, you can pull the plug with no remorse. A third chance is one too many, especially where Everett is concerned."

When you climbed out of the car and made your way toward Bradley, he tracked your every move. "Kitten."

You pressed your lips together. "Hi, Coach," you replied, and you found it impossible to keep emotion from your voice today. Bradley must have noticed it, too, because he took a stumbling step toward you while his hand was still on Everett's shoulder. 

"How are you?" he asked, and Molly breezed right past him in search of Bob. 

You shrugged and said, "Okay."

"Time to start warming up," Bradley told Everett, and then when your son was gone, he took another step closer to you. "I miss you a lot, Kitten. I've been miserable. The best parts of my week were Career Day and when I got to see you at practice on Thursday. And right now. This is probably the best part of my week."

He was wearing down your resolve with his words and his unshaved face and the exhausted look in his brown eyes. And the fact that this was probably the best part of your week as well was at the forefront of your mind. 

Bradley opened his mouth to say something else, but you could hear the umpire calling for the coaches. "You better go," you told him, but he didn't move.

He swallowed hard, brown eyes on yours and asked, "Can we talk more after the game? Walk up to your car again?" 

You were nodding before you even knew it, and a hint of a smile graced his lips as he turned toward the team.

-----------------------

When the Tiny Eagles managed to pull out another win, Bradley was happy. But when you let him walk you back to your car while Molly and Everett ran ahead of you, he was elated. Your fingers brushed against his, and Bradley was dying to take your hand in his. But then you moved further away from him.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his hat, beyond nervous about how you were going to respond to him. "I'll be at your house at noon tomorrow. That okay, Kitten?" You turned toward him with a puzzled look, and the afternoon sun made your eyes light up. 

"I thought the game started at four?" you asked softly. 

"It does. But there's something I wanted Ev to see at the ballpark before the game starts. If that's okay." Bradley was shocked when Jake managed to work his connections to get access to the locker room before the game. Bradley was also allowed to let Everett on the ballfield and pitcher's mound. Now if only you would agree to come, too.

You nibbled on your lip. "That should be fine. I'll have him ready to go at noon." Then you turned away from him and headed for your car, but Bradley reached out for your hand. And you didn't pull away.

"Are you coming too, Kitten? That ticket is yours. Like I told you from the beginning, I'd be happy sitting in any seat where I can see you."

Bradley watched your eyes flutter closed, and he pulled you a little closer by your hand. "Bradley, I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Me and you are a great idea. I didn't quite see it at first. Not the full picture anyway. But I do now."

Your voice was firm, but your eyes were soft as you said, "Everett and I are a package deal. You don't get me without him, and you don't get him without me."

"I understand, Kitten. You're a team. I'm dying to be on that team."

You sucked in a deep breath and said, "I'll see you at noon tomorrow." And then your hand was slipping from his grasp, and you were walking toward your car and pulling out of the parking space. And Bradley still didn't know if you'd be coming to the Phillies with him and Ev or not.

-------------------------

When Bradley pulled up to your house at ten minutes before noon the following day, he had finally reached the point where he would accept what you told him. If you said you didn't want him around any longer after he brought Everett home tonight, he'd let you move on. He'd figure out a way to enjoy the last few weeks of tee ball with Ev, but then he would just get used to missing both of you. At least that's what he kept telling himself. 

Everett was bounding out the door wearing a Phillies jersey and his backwards cap before Bradley had even reached the porch. "Bradley! We match!"

Bradley laughed and gave him a hug. "We sure do, kiddo. I'll bet we're the biggest Phillies fans in the whole city."

Everett's eyes went wide. "Yeah. You're probably right." Bradley was eyeing the front door cautiously while Everett asked if he knew who the starting pitchers were going to be. 

"I'm not sure, but they'll announce it before the game starts," Bradley muttered, but there was still no sign of you. "Where's your mom, Ev?"

But then there you were, casually strolling out onto your front porch in ripped jeans and a Phillies shirt. And Bradley took that as a very good sign. "Do you want me to drive? Since I have the booster seat for Ev?" you asked, walking down the front steps to join them.

Bradley was gaping at you. "You're coming?" Everett was beaming, looking back and forth between the two of you. 

"Yeah, I'm coming," you said softly. 

Relief washed over Bradley, and suddenly it felt like the perfect spring day. It felt like he was being given another chance. "I'm happy there won't be an empty seat."

You smiled softly at him. "So you want me to drive?"

Bradley shook his head and reached for your hand and Everett's. "I bought a booster seat and installed it. I can drive."

Your palm slid across his as you echoed him. "You bought a booster seat? For Everett?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "And now I'll have it ready for the next time we go somewhere?" He heard the soft sound you made as you watched Everett climb into the backseat, and then Bradley leaned in close, his lips brushing your cheek. "Please, Kitten, tell me there can be a next time?"

You turned a bit, and your lips met Bradley's so softly as you said, "I hope so." 

With longing in his heart, Bradley opened the door for you, and then he walked around to the driver's seat. After he started the Bronco and shifted into drive, he let his hand come to rest on the seat, and you took it in yours. 

"This is the best day ever!" Everett cheered from the backseat as Bradley headed for Petco Park and the Phillies, feeling better than he had in over a week.

--------------------------

Kitten is going to the Phillies game! Coach, do not fuck this up, my man! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 15

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[shartletswritings]

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 2: Welcome Home

Summary:

Ekko shows you around the hideout in an attempt to get you to join the Firelights. Can you leave behind your past for a new life? Or will it continue to haunt you once you agree to commit yourself to taking down corruption in Zaun?

Notes:

Ahhhh!! I am oh so obsessed with writing for this series. I do hope you all still enjoy this chapter; there isn't a ton of Scar content and for that I apologize, but there is a LOT coming in the next few chapters!! Very minor TW for (past) body mutilation

As promised, you are awoken by a sharp rap on the door. It takes you a moment to get a handle on your surroundings; nothing makes sense for several minutes and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re in a windowless room, unable to tell the time of day. Another knock and an unfamiliar voice calling your name jumpstarts your brain.

            “Yeah! Sorry.” You place your bare feet on the wooden floor, the chill that rockets up your legs helps to ground you. Stumbling to put on your discarded pants, you call out to the door, “One second!” You pop your head into the bathroom to assess your hair and face, it’s been worse, and really, for abduction victim standards, I’d say I look pretty damn good, you think.

            Opening the door you find yourself face to face with a young woman with a stern expression. “Let’s go,” she says. If you were a bit more awake perhaps you would have had something witty to say, but you don’t. You’re just hungry and tired and confused; yesterday still doesn’t feel quite real. As if on cue, your stomach lets out a low rumble. She ignores the sound and starts walking down the hallway, you follow wordlessly.

            The route she walks is different than last night, you think, but it’s just as confusing. “Where are we going?” You finally say after a few minutes of following her like a lost dog.

            “Ekko.” She looks back at you, her brown eyes looking you up and down as if she just remembered you’re here, “you don’t need to look so tense.” Instinctively you roll your shoulders and unclench your jaw, you didn’t even realize you were tense. You flash her a small smile and she turns her head forward to keep walking. She isn’t that much older than you are, but she looks like she could probably kill you with her bare hands if she wanted. Her strength is different from what you saw in Scar last night though; where his is natural and almost animalistic, you can see through the way she carries her body that she worked hard for her abilities. It doesn’t take much to decide, knowing literally nothing about her, that you like her.

            “What’s your name?” You finally ask.

She turns back for a moment, one red eyebrow arched. She answers you after she’s facing forward again, “Eve.” The only acknowledgement you offer is a small hum. The rest of the walk is silent.

The two of you eventually arrive back at the room from last night and you suspect that Eve took a longer route than Scar did because the walk felt twice as long. The room looks much better in the bright glow of the sunlight—something you practically never see among the smog of the undercity—and you find yourself drawn to all the contraptions littering the surfaces of the room. Stacks of journals and diagrams, metal scraps, plants propagating in jars of water; you realize it’s a workshop of sorts. Ekko turns towards the sound of the door opening, his eyes glinting. “Good to see you,” his voice is just as enthusiastic as yesterday, “but before we talk, I wanna show you around.”

“See ya,” Eve says from behind you, her voice still monotone.

“Thanks, Eve. Hey, would you mind letting Geo know I had some luck with the transistor? I’ll have his board for him at dinner.” She gives him a quick nod and leaves, closing the door behind her. “How did you sleep? Do you need anything?”

You look down at your clothes that are still covered in ash from the fire but decide not to push your luck. They may have had a shower, but something tells you that clean clothes are a bit of a stretch. “Yah no, I’m okay.”

“Good,” he looks down at your clothes then back to your face, “Come on, I’ll take you outside.” That glint in his eyes you saw before is back: mischievous and boyish but completely certain as well. He takes you to a small balcony connected to his workshop.

Stepping out into the sun, you can’t help but gasp at what you see. The balcony looks down on a large courtyard of sorts and you can see people milling about on the ground. Small paintings and banners stream around the area, making even the air around you feel alive. The color is what you notice most; more color than you think you have ever seen in your life. Even the markets in Piltover couldn’t rivel the environment around you. Looking up you realize you are, in fact, facing the trunk of a massive tree, larger than you thought possible. “How… how is all of this here? Are we still in Zaun?” You turn to Ekko, your questions nearly breathless.

He is smiling down at you, “It’s pretty great, isn’t it? None of us could believe it the first time we found it either. But life found a way, even down here in the sewers.”

            The shrill cry of a child brings your attention back to the ground below you where three kids run together, screaming in laughter. A smile breaks on your face despite the sting of envy that hits your heart. “This is incredible, Ekko. I had… no idea all of this could happen down here.”

            “Why don’t I take you down? We can meet some people.” You nod your head.

            The awe you felt on the balcony continues to bubble up as you walk around, and you find it difficult to try and take in everything at once. The children you saw earlier run past you in a blur and you turn to watch them as they round the corner and disappear out of sight. You keep pace with Ekko who also seems to be amazed at what he sees despite his obvious position as leader. That’s a good quality, it means he’s invested, you think, before realizing just how seriously you are already considering his offer. You still have no idea what he thinks you’ll be doing for the firelights.

            Turning a corner you look up to see a massive mural painted onto a structure near the base of the tree. You stop dead in your tracks, once again out of breath at the beauty of what you see. The painting is comprised of dozens of faces and portraits of various people. “It’s gorgeous,” you whisper, “who are they?”

            “All the people we lost,” Ekko’s voice is wistful but still steady. He turns to you, “Come on, were almost there.” You follow, not taking your gaze from the mural until it is finally out of sight.

            He stops near a small tent; the front flap is cut off so it’s really more of a roof and three walls. Inside, several firelights are sitting and chatting, each one wearing a mask of a different animal on their belts like Scar. The various conversations stop as soon as Ekko walks over, each Firelight looking at him expectantly. He introduces you and suddenly all sets of eyes move to you. Feeling your face heat up you swallow, looking to Ekko for help. He flashes you the smallest of smiles before running through a list of their names, almost every single one leaves your mind as soon as you hear it, but you manage to catch a couple. A few of them move in acknowledgement as their name is listed off and the rest simply stare with a bored expression.

            Finally, thankfully, one of them speaks up. “Hope you’re not too bruised up. You were screaming so bad when we were taking you back, I was worried half the city would follow us home,” her voice is deep, not matching the gentle expression on her face. The crow shaped mask on her hip shifts as she stands up to properly assess you.

            “Uh… oh, no. It’s okay. I probably would have done the same thing,” you offer her an awkward smile and run a hand through your hair. She must be the one responsible for the knock to your stomach last night; you had forgotten about that injury entirely thanks to the throbbing bump on your head. You already like her better than Scar.

            She flashes a set of perfectly white teeth and claps the hand Ekko has outstretched, pulling him into a forceful hug. “This is Malia, she’s one of our soldiers. She also painted most of that mural you saw.”

            You gaze at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling like a child. “He gives me too much credit,” she pushes into his side with her shoulder, beaming down at you, “Ekko did almost all of it, I just helped where I could.” Malia turns back to Ekko, “So, is she in yet?”

            Ekko shakes his head, “Nah… still workin on that.”

            “Shame,” she looks you up and down once more, “You seem like you could be helpful.”

            Malia and Ekko chat for a few more moments and you let yourself gaze around, still marveling at the amount of life and joy in this sewer. Even the air smells sweet, especially compared to the regular Zaun murk you breathe in every day: Pilties would probably still wear their stupid masks.

            A looming, gray form standing near the tree grabs your attention. Scar. He doesn’t notice you immediately, his gaze focused on the bundle of fabric in his arms. Is that a child? You squint your eyes to see what it is. He rocks himself softly back and forth, one clawed finger reaching down towards the bundle. When a small, gray hand reaches up to grab at his finger you realize it is, in fact, a baby. Scar smiles down at the child, his green eyes lighting up, and you feel that same pinch of envy.

            “He doesn’t seem the type, does he?” Ekko caught you staring. You turn back towards the two firelights.

            “No… is that his kid? Or just some baby he also decided to kidnap?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to.

Malia laughs, “I see you know Scar well enough already, then? Don’t let him scare you away from us, alright? He can be a dick, but he means well. We all do.” You hum in acknowledgement, glancing back at Scar who has turned his back to you and is now talking to a group of older children gathered around his feet.

Ekko begins to leave, you turn to follow him before Malia calls out your name, “See ya ‘round?” You offer a smile in response and turn to catch up with Ekko.

He gives you a quick walk-through of the Firelight ‘hideout’ as he calls it, stopping to greet several people along the way. As you expected, you only manage to remember a couple names, but at least people seem friendlier and eager to meet you. Eventually the two of you return to his workshop. He invites you to sit and you gladly accept, still slightly woozy from last night.

“So? Whaddya think?” His voice is hopeful.

“I think you’ve got a great place,” you fold your arms over your chest, “but I still don’t understand why you want me.”

He hums in thought and places an elbow on the table next to him, “Most of what we do involves interrupting the shimmer trade, right?” You nod and he continues, “You… obviously have some experience with shimmer and while I can’t let you involve yourself with that process any longer, I do think it’s a shame to see such a strong talent go to waste,” he cracks mischievous smile.

            “What, you want me for intel?”

            “Yes and no. You are clearly able to get in and out of these facilities without getting caught. Now… I don’t need to know why you know what you do—at least not right now—I just wanna know if you’ll join our cause. We want to see Silco, and more importantly shimmer, brought down and eradicated from Zaun.”

            You sigh, looking out the window to try and clear your mind. It’s not like you like shimmer’s presence in Zaun, nor do you consider yourself a fan of Silco, far from it. But your own vendetta runs deeper towards a particular organization. Absently, you lay a hand on your cloth-covered forearm, tracing the shape of the raised flesh. “What about the other chem-barons?” You ask in what you hope sounds like a disinterested question.

            “Right now, our goal is an independent, peaceful Zaun. I don’t think that’ll include the barons, if that’s what you’re asking.” His face is set, a serious look in his eyes.

            “What do I get out of this? And please don’t give me some self-righteous speech about the future of the undercity. I’m a trencher, and I sure as hell don’t work for free”

            A smile comes back ever so slightly, “That was kinda half my answer. But if you give us your loyalty, you’ll have a home. Meals, shelter, showers, community. We work together here, you’d be expected to chip in. When we get a tip on a shipment of shimmer, you’ll be sent out with a team of soldiers.”

            “Fine.” You reply curtly, his eyes light up immediately and the small smile on his face cracks into a wide grin. “But,” the smile dims, “I want you to know that you should be ashamed of yourself to force me to make this decision on an empty stomach, especially when you offer me food if I join.” You punctuate your critique with a petty huff.

            Ekko laughs, slapping a firm hand down on your shoulder, “You’ll be great here.” You glare sarcastically at his hand on your shoulder, “Come on, I’ll take you to the mess hall.”

            You are pleased that on your fourth trek through the hallways you can—mostly—tell where you’re going. The mess hall is similar to the rest of the base with the exception of sunlight. It seems to be built into a sewer tunnel but without the tell-tale undercity stonework you never would have known. Several tables take up the center of the large room along with several carpets and pillows for people to eat on the ground. “Jaymin is our cook, he’s great,” Ekko’s voice cuts through the light chatter and you turn your attention to the table of pots left out for people to serve themselves. Your stomach rumbles again, this time shooting a deep ache up into your chest, when was the last time I ate? “Help yourself,” is the only encouragement you need before you’re standing at the table and loading up a plate full of food. Most of it is stuff you recognize, standard trench-fare, and the stuff you don’t you leave in their pots.

            You follow Ekko over to a table where a couple other firelights sit and chat over cresting servings of food. They all look at you as you sit, and you make a pointed effort to hold your chin high and not attempt to disappear into your seat. Malia calls your name from across the table, she picks up her food to sit next to you, “Good to see you’re still here,” she sits like a topsider: elegant and poised. The best response you can offer is a nod with a chipmunk-like mouthful of food.

            “You’re still here,” the table shakes slightly as Scar sits down next to Malia, his voice in harsh contrast to hers, “I’m surprised you didn’t run off.”

            You shoot him as menacing of a scowl as you can muster, swallowing your food, “And miss a chance to make your life just a bit more difficult? Never.” He rolls his eyes as Malia’s laugh flows out like silk.

            “You gotta hand it to her, Scar,” he glares at her now, “she doesn’t scare easy. And besides, you would hate her if she did.”

            Ekko finally speaks up through a mouthful of rice, “Hey, no one hates anyone. I just got her in, and I’d like to keep her, okay? So Scar, try to be nice.”

            Scar, to your surprise, dips his head in acknowledgement at Ekko’s voice. He doesn’t even skulk like you expected him to, only redirects his attention to his food, ignoring you to the best of his abilities.

            Leaning closer to Malia, you whisper, “How does Ekko do that?” She looks at you quizzically, you elaborate. “Get him to listen, I mean.” As you watch Scar interact with the other firelights at the table, your point continues to prove itself; it seems like the man can hardly stand to listen to the others talk. So to see him listen to Ekko without a hint of contempt is a bit hard to comprehend. You’ve seen people like him condensed into blind obedience before, of course, but it is always out of pure terror—Ekko is about as far from fear inducing as you can get, you think.

            Malia’s voice is low next to you, “We all respect Ekko of course, he’s done more for us in the past few years than we could ever repay in a lifetime of service,” you nod, stealing a glance at Scar who is currently scowling at a taller man on the other end of the table, “But Scar and Ekko… they’ve been through a lot together. Ekko trusts him more than any of us, I think, and for good reason. The two are like brothers.”

            Scar’s gaze flicks to the two of you, his teeth showing for a moment before he continues eating, how strong are those big ass ears? You suspect they’re stronger than yours, anyways, but he gives you no reason to think he heard your conversation.

            Ekko continues to introduce you to the rest of the Firelights at the table and you recognize a few names and faces; it’ll be a while till you can confidently pick out individuals in a crowd, but you have to say you aren’t doing too bad for your first day.

            People begin to trickle out of the mess hall, and you walk with Malia to bring your plate back to the kitchen. It’s smaller than the dining portion, but the room is expertly organized; no space is wasted. You gingerly place your plate on a towering stack of other dirty plates and bowls and jog to catch up with Ekko who is calling your name near the entrance to the kitchen.

            “I was hoping to come with you to see Jordyn, but I need to go meet with a couple of soldiers about a new tip, so… would you be cool going with Malia?”

            You hear the thump of Malia’s boots behind you, she answers for you, “Yeah, I’ll take her. I need to go chat with them about my own mask.”

            She turns to you once Ekko walks out of the mess hall, “Come on, you’ll like them, I promise.”

            You find Jordyn sitting under a tent similar to the one from this morning. They are hunched over a workbench, muscular back on full display beneath the thin, white tank they wear. When Malia calls their name they turn, standing at full height and lifting a welding mask over their head to smile at her. “Mal, I was wondering when you’d show up,” they clap their hand to hers, pulling her into a hug, just like Ekko, “I just finished up the new voice box.” They seem to suddenly notice you, a crooked smirk on their face as they look you up and down several times, “And who is this?”

            Your face flushes as they lean against their workbench, biceps flexing as they cross over their chest, eyes never leaving you. Malia saves you once again, “This is the new one Scar and Ekko brought in from last night’s raid. She needs a mask,”

            Jordyn runs a tongue over their teeth beneath their lips, “Sure, I can do that. Come sit down and I’ll get some things ready, okay?” You nod. They lead you to a tall stool and turn back to their workbench. The welding mask comes off with a loud thunk revealing an impressive head of long, blonde hair that they quickly tie into a knot. They turn back around holding a fabric measuring tape. “I’m gonna start with some basic measurements, won’t take long, I promise”

            “Yeah, whatever you need to do.”

            They start from behind, running the tape over the back of your head first, writing down a few numbers as they go. This kind of touch you can handle, even if you can’t see them as they approach, you don’t feel constricted. That is until they move to your face. Instead of bending down to get eye level with you—as you assume a normal person would—they opt for a wide legged stance that lowers their body just enough to look you dead on. The proximity feels suffocating, and you struggle to find an appropriate place to fix your eyes that isn’t directed at their chest or face.  

Malia, mercifully, keeps Jordyn entertained with a story about some shimmer dealer she ran into recently. She sits idly on the workbench while going into grotesque detail of exactly how she beat the shit out of the guy after catching him selling some of the stuff to a group of kids. Your stomach clenches uncomfortably, what would they do if they found out you were a dealer until about twelve hours ago? Sure, you weren’t selling to kids, but Ekko made himself very clear on the Firelights opinions of people like you. Probably best to not tell anyone.

            Jordyn finally finishes with the measurements; standing up to stretch, they smile down at you, “I’ll start putting a base together, then we can talk about designs.” They turn back to the workbench and shoo Malia out of their way. Over their shoulder, they continue to talk to you, “So what’s your story, why come to the firelights?”

            You purse your lips; this is exactly what you don’t need right now. Again, your hands brush against the branding marked into your forearm, “Typical, I guess. I grew up in the sumps and Ekko thought I could be… useful.” Your response is too vague, you know this, but what the hell are you supposed to say? Yeah, I worked for an organized crime syndicate for the first 19 years of my life but I’m totally trustworthy!

            “One hell of a gap there,” Jordyn shoots you a look over their shoulder and you bite your lip anxiously, “But hey, I got some… gaps of my own. Don’t worry about it, kid, we all have shit we don’t talk about down here. What matters is that you’re here now, right?”

            “Yeah… guess so.”

            “Don’t believe them,” Malia chimes in, “Get them drunk enough and you’ll have enough information to fill a book.”

            Jordyn responds with a low laugh, “Don’t get her hopes up, after last week I’m not touchin’ anything for at least another month.” Malia laughs, letting them know exactly how much she believes them.

            You sit in silence for a while, happy to watch Jordyn work, and you mean that literally. You can’t see a thing they do over their back, but you selfishly admit that watching their muscles ripple as they do… whatever it is they’re doing is entertainment enough. Eventually, they spin around and lean against the bench, a skeleton of a mask in their hands. “Try this on for me, will ya?” You take it from their grease covered hands and slip it over your face. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

            “Feels fine,” you say, unsure exactly what they’re looking for here.

            “Perfect, now all I need to do is attach a face to it. Any ideas what you want it to be?”

            You look at them, head angled slightly, “Like… what animal?”

            “Sure, pick whatever. We’ve each got our own; mines a pig, Malia’s got a crow, Ekko’s got his owl. I can do most of em”

            Your mind goes blank, you hadn’t even begun to think what you would want your mask to be. You couldn’t even name a single animal if you tried.

            A familiarly rough voice startles you, “Make it a rat,” you turn to see Scar leaning against one of the tent poles. Both Malia and Jordyn stare at him, their faces a mixture of shock and amusement.

            Your first instinct is to bristle, a rat? Is that what he thinks of you? But before you open your mouth to tell him to go fuck himself you pause. He wants you to argue with him. Well fuck him. “Yeah, make it a rat,” you echo, turning your chin up in a blatant challenge to Scar, feeling slightly triumphant and very pissed. He sneers but says nothing.

            “Uh… sure?” Jordyn sounds surprised but turns back to his bench, “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow.”

            “Thanks,” you say calmly despite the rage you feel burning in your belly. They wave a hand at you without turning around, too engrossed in a sketchbook where you assume they are drawing out plans for your new mask.

            “I’m gonna hang back, you okay for a bit?” Malia says to you, her arms crossed over her chest. She notices the glint of rage in your eyes and smiles, mischievously.

            Further into the courtyard, Scar is already skulking away. You walk to catch up with him, putting your body directly in his path. “What the fuck is your problem, huh?” you bite, glaring up at the tall chirean.

            He looks down his nose, making you feel smaller than you are, “I don’t have a problem,” he says, sounding bored.

            You let out an ungraceful, exasperated noise, “Oh, bullshit. I’ve barely been here one day, and you already can’t stand the sight of me? I didn’t ask you to take me here, you coulda left me at the warehouse. It’s your fault you’re stuck here with me.” You fold your arms, standing your ground.

            “I don’t trust dealers,” he pushes you out of the way to keep walking.

            Not willing to give up so soon you once again jog directly in front of his path. He no longer looks bored, “Oh, like you’re a godsdamned saint. I did what I had to do to survive, okay? You have no idea what my life was like, and I don’t need you holding a past you know nothing about over my head. Either shut the fuck up or leave me alone.”

            “Fine.” Another stupid growl. This time you push him out of your way, although he is far sturdier than you were, and it would be more accurate to say you shove yourself into his rock of a body before walking away.

            You realize you actually have no idea what to do now, Ekko never told you where your quarters would be, and you remember that you are still in your ash covered clothes leaving you smelling like a fresh bonfire everywhere you go. A familiar head of red hair catches your eyes, and you walk over to where Eve is sitting with a few other firelights. She looks up at you as you approach, not quite smiling but not displeased either, “Hey, you settling in okay? I heard your sticking around.” Word must travel fast.

            “Yeah, guess I am. I just met with Jordyn, they’re making my mask right now, I think.”

            Eve pushes herself away from the wall she was leaning on to talk to you more directly, “Glad to hear it. Can I help you with something?” Once again you find yourself being inspected and you shift uncomfortably.

            You run a hand through your hair, “Yeah, actually. Where am I… living?” It’s a difficult question to phrase; obviously you’re living here, in the hideout. But you are hoping you get your own room.

            “Did Ekko not bring you there this morning?” You shake your head. “Come on, I’ll show you where the sleeping quarters are. We just had a room open up, so this works out.” She doesn’t elaborate and you don’t press it.

            She leads back through the hallways you were in this morning and into a separate wing down a flight of stairs. She opens a door and lets you into a small room, similar to the one you were in last night. “I’m right down the hall from you,” she points to a door a few paces away, her voice still monotone but not unfriendly. She looks you up and down once more, “Do you want some fresh clothes?”

            Your face heats up; it isn’t like you didn’t realize how obviously a mess you were, you just… thought no one would mention it. Swallowing your pride, you nod, “Yeah… the fire… I’m still disgusting.”

            Her lips twist into a subtle smirk and she motions you to follow her down the hall into her room. It is the same layout as your own but covered in sculptures and other art pieces hung on the walls. You look around distracted until she calls you name. “These should fit.”

            You smile as you take the clothes, “Thank you, I really appreciate it, Eve”

            “No problem. You can keep them.” Despite the curtness of her responses, you feel no animosity from the girl standing in front of you. You were right to like her, something in her eyes makes you feel safe and a bit less alone in this strange new world you’ve fallen into.

            You return to your room and plop down on the bed for a moment, enjoying the softness of the sheets on your face that you neglected in your exhaustion last night. You leave your dirty clothes on the floor and slip into the new ones from Eve. They fit well enough, not exactly your style but you aren’t really in a position to complain at the moment, simply grateful to be in clothes that don’t reek of fire and that acrid scent of shimmer you’ve grown to hate.

            As you pull the shirt over your head, you pause to look at the branding on your arm. The twisting, ugly lines mocking the past you try so desperately to hide. Despite the nearly three years that have passed since you left, you never quite shake the feeling that Chross is watching over your shoulder, observing your every movement. For all the Hush Company knows, you’re long dead, or so you’ve been told, so there is no reason for you to feel so anxious. Especially not with the Firelights who are probably about the farthest from the Chem-Barons as you can get in Zaun. As long as you don’t bring up your past and no one asks any questions, there is no reason you can’t start your new life here in the hideout. And you know what? You deserve it dammit. It’s been years of running, assuming every shadow has someone lurking, out to get you. You’re gonna make this your home.

            But before you can do that, you want to at least get a few of your things from your apartment in the sumps before your landlord assumes the same as Chross and starts selling your shit. You run a hand down your face and steel yourself to walk back into the courtyard in search of Ekko.

YAY!!! This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write, but I want this story to feel rich enough to stand on its own, ya know? So I appreciate yall bearing with me for all of this exposition. I have a problem writing characters that are too fine, but I pinky promise this is a Scar fic, I just like writing about sexy people :P As always, let me know what y'all think! I love suggestions/feedback/critique

Cross posted on AO3 too!!

[vibinsane]

so, i had seen a lot of people saying that xavier only loves queen mc, but after reading his 3rd anecdote, i’d beg to differ. 

there is a quote in there where he says “no matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are… i will find you.” 

to xavier, mc is both hunter and queen. there is no difference. even if mc were to have another life, xavier will still see her as the same person, the love of his life basically. and no matter how many lives it may take, he will go through anything and everything to find her and be with her in some way.

also, his relationship from queen mc evidently carried over to hunter mc. remember in his myth where she was in a duel with xavier before he was taken away and jeremiah came up to talk to her, but when xavier returned and saw jeremiah’s arm around mc, xavier clearly was pouting and even told him basically to stay in his own lane. then we have hunter mc who jeremiah was measuring her figure in order to create an outfit to fit her fake role only for xavier to deadass spray water at him like a misbehaving dog saying that she can do it herself. 

i know damn well jeremiah had a ball in both instances, he just enjoys provoking xavier whenever possible.

his jealousy shows the same whether queen mc or hunter mc, perhaps he learned from his mistake before, but his efforts with hunter mc seems more like ‘i’ve made this mistake before, i won’t allow it to happen again’. because, if it were truly only for queen mc, then why would xavier go out of his way for hunter mc; when mc lost caleb and josephine, how she felt lonely and xavier told her about snowflakes falling on loved one’s shoulders by their passed loved ones. or even the most recent cards such as ‘romantic afternoon’ and ‘succumb’  as well as his 4* memories altogether. 

for someone who is coined as the one who only loves and cares for one version of a woman…he sure treats hunter mc a lot better than he did with queen mc. but, i still stand on this hill that xavier loves mc, no matter what version she is. also something i want to add, man is old, he’s been traveling space to and fro, he would never waste his time on someone he didn’t genuinely want to be around or simply be with.

when i say it transcends, this is legit what i mean.

to him, queen mc is right there with him, once made to be his knight, now hunting and defeating wanderers side by side.

also for @ly-pleiades because she asked to peek into my thoughts about xavier and such and i am happy to deliver what i can

[atomicpowered]

Last night my bestie of besties launched another kickstarter! (If you remember me talking about those gorgeous fullmetal tattoo like pins a... god, I guess it's a while ago now. This is the same bestie.) She doesn't have a tumblr so I am taking the liberty, (It's my pleasure really, I benefit too.) of slinging it here in front of you guys!

It's really ambitious, and I'm not gonna go super into it because she already has some nice copy to read on the site itself, but we have over 50, yes, Fifty, Five Zero, designs up for funding. And my specific blorbos wont get done unless we get them funds. This, of course, wont do!

I don't have to worry too much as of posting this it already is funded for the initial tier in only about an hour and a half of being live, but again, fifty designs.

I've helped a lot with the project both from a support angle and brainstorming! And when it comes time for the fulfillment portion of the exchange I will be seated in those trenches. Each design comes with floriography attached, and we both put a ton of thought into each choice! If you have a FMA character you like I am pretty damn sure they're gonna be here.

Please take a look, or at the very least share it around! Oh! Also if you backed the previous kickstarter I mentioned, you get COLOR VARIENTS! AND! If you back this one in the first 48 hours you get BLACK HAYATE! A must if you like the military crew, cute dogs, or are a completionist. For completion sake he's a must for any collection, so stop on down!

[uknowmesblog]

Ah, ah, I am an awful person for taking so long to write again.

Guilty as charged, I had a hell of week and It's still going strong. Pray for my soul, I have flour in my nose.

!!TW!!

FOUL language, kind off groping/pawing. Soft punisment. Virgin Reader. (I m a sucker for this trope and I won't be sorry)

No minors pls, I can't deal with this.

Also, does anyone know how to do a materialist? I m not the smartest 🤓

Oh what a debriefing it was, hands on you all the time. Small whispers almost passed without a second thought, your pussy literally weeping every time Johnny threw one of his panty-melting smile. You left the space dizzy, barely remembering where is that damned room you we're assigned, your mind a battle ground between hating the situation you are in and enjoying all the attention you could get.

Male attention wasn't a thing in your life, your dad scarring them like he was a rabid dog. No one will touch the daughter of a high military rank man, risking to dissappear like dust in wind out of nowhere.

And when you grew up? Your mind was already made, you would grow old with lots of cats and maybe a parrot just for the effect. Lost was the idea of even a fuck, your virginity now collecting dust figuratively.

Now two men, three if you take in consideration Price who's smirking from time to time, gave you more attention and more touches than you could register in your slow mind. (If you'll have awareness, you would count four.)

"Jesus christ" You sighed, closing your door and resting your forehead against it, cool wood taking the edge off a bit. After diner you had plans, something soft for your first night ready. Nothing scandalous, just taking a break.

═════ ◈ ═════ 

Dinner passed fast, you had some kind chicken and mashed potatoes. Good enough to not starve, you almost had a tantrum over the fact there wasn't dessert but one glare from Ghost had you bite your tongue. His baklava rised over his nose, scarred full lips staying flat as you glared at your food.

You listened as everyone was moving around their rooms until silence enveloped the whole space and you gracefully tiptoed outside, finding a spot concealed in shadows under the full moon.

It's cold, your fingers tightened around the pack of smokes as you seated yourself on some sort of decorative rock. A military base with decorative rocks, making you snort as your lips wrapped around a cigarette. You didn't smoke in a while, deciding is way too expensive and your budget was tight as a nun's ass. But now you had enough to live off a while, maybe two months at best.

Your new salary sounds good on paper, but it is worthy to risk your whole life for extra money? You don't have an answer as you look at the sky, lips puffin a cigarette. Your eyes fall on your phone, distracted by the sound of it, not hearing the silent men with a skull baklava approaching you.

One palm wrapped around your mouth, the other gripping your wrist making you drop your phone on the floor.

"Shh, it's jus' me" He whispered, hot breath fanning against your neck. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold on you. You huffed annoyed, his low and raspy chuckle making you shiver.

"You are such an annoying little doll, aren't you?" His hand leave your mouth, wrapping around your throat. "So mouthy, so bratty" his hand travelled further down, making your breath hitch.

"Now keep it nice and quiet for me luv, your punishment will be easy tonight"

His fingers cupped your cunt over your pants, making you yelp and trash. He slapped it twice stopping you yelp, stopping all the movements.

"Stay still, you won't want Johnny to hear you, he will be between these pretty thighs s'fast you will cum before even thinking about it."

Your eyes rolled back, his fingers dropping under your waistband and finding your dripping pussy welcoming all hot and bothered.

One finger gingerly rubbing your clit, your breath coming out panting. This is so wrong, deep in your mind you know this is power imbalance and he shouldn't be doing this.

You should stop this, you should cry for help.

But a depraved part in you it's enjoying the way his fingers are working you higher and higher, so close to -

"No, not tonight ' He retreated himself so fast, like you are burning and he just got some of it.

"W-what?" You blinked, confused and worked up.

"Good girls receive pleasure, brats receive the punishment. " The audacity of this man, made you open your mouth instantly.

"Isn't like I can touch myself?"

"You could do that and receive a worde punishment " He looked at you with that impassive face, the only thing showing his sick pleasure it's the bulge that was showing off a lil too much.

"And trust me I will now" He grunted, tilting his head.

"You can't be serious, you can't just ban masturbating"

"Watch me, if you want me to finish what I started, you can beg tomorrow on your knees." He turned around, leaving you flustered and confused. Red cheeks, eyes ready to shed tears and a pussy leaking wetness ready to be stuffed.

Your plan just backfired, you need to find something new thats sure!

@brxghtlxghtz @niresenrab @nes-kopi @chickennn-soupp @clear-your-mind-and-dream

Its short ik ik, Don't kill me.

I had some time today at work and I said why not? I need a break from life.

[lostintransist]

It Was Almost Love

You would die today. Something in the air tickled at the sense of otherness that had always kept you safe on every other mission.

Your Memaw had been something of a witch and all her children and their children had a touch of what she called the ‘old world’ in them. You had always trusted that sense, but you trusted Memaw’s more.

You had been six when your mother died in a car accident. Memaw had taken your hand at the wake. None of your aunts or uncles would take you, Memaw would shame them for their cowardice in the years to come. She would often complain as she creaked from standing to sitting that she was ‘too damn old for this child rearin’ nonsense’. She loved you fiercely and it showed in every homemade school lunch and her attendance at every performance. You grew up treasured and bathed in love.

Memaw had to have been nearing her nineties when she finally sat you down and explained she would be leaving soon. You had been sixteen.

“Now chile, I not long for this world. Your pappy has been calling me something fierce these past few years. I can only tell that man off so many times before he is going to come to drag me home by my ankles.”

You were sitting at the table that had been old when your mother had been young. The cheery daisies below the plastic sheet offered no explanation as you stared at them.

“Why are you leaving me Memaw?” You couldn’t keep the shake from your voice.

She had been talking about going ‘home’ for as long as you could remember, but never like this. Never before had it been fact instead of a desire.

Her knobby hands reached out, the age spots drawing your attention from the table.

“I am old, and frankly I have earned my rest. Everything is settled in my will, it sits in the family bible. I have left something for each of you, but you most of all. You tell your uncle James that if he contests I have a provision that he gets nothing. Despite my best efforts, he turned out just like my father.” She shook her head, wedding ring digging into your hand. You didn’t dare let go.

“One last thing chile.” She looked at you now, the years hiding her beauty behind gravity, “You will die in the desert, with the forests above you. When your time comes I will come for you; your mother and I both will lead you home.”

You didn’t think about it much. She had been gone the next morning, passed in her sleep the doctor said. The family descended, locust to the famine her death had caused. Again no one wanted to take you, nearly an adult they said. We’ll keep the house till you graduate. They didn’t. You got Memaws and Pappy’s wedding bands; they sat next to your dog tags. All the years of love boiled down to two gold bands and a surname.

You were shuffled from house to house until by a stroke of luck you stumbled into a recruiter's office to wait out a storm that passed overhead. You had just turned seventeen and could, with some sloppy handwriting, get in a little early. By the time anyone got around to verifying your age you were already through basic assigned to a team and only a few months away from eighteen. You had gotten a reprimand and a letter put in your file but it hadn’t stopped you from progressing. You tried twice as hard as anyone else, doubling your hours in training.

It took years of tenacity, but you finally landed somewhere you fit. The 141, a joint task force, had pulled your number somewhere after the third deployment you made it home without a scratch. You were still wary of Captain Price despite the years you had served under him. He looked too much like a man who had hurt you to ever fully relax.

There was Gaz and Soap, two men who tucked you beneath their arms and dragged you into every drinking game they started. You found what it could have been like to have siblings between their ribbing and childish puns.

You learned philosophy in the signs you shared with Roach. He couldn’t speak but the questions he posed set you down for weeks until you could nail the feeling and articulate it with your limited vocabulary in sign language. He told you often you could use your voice but you knew the gift of someone meeting you where you were at.

Ghost had been a whole other beast. Tall, tatted, and always wearing a mask. He spoke rarely, mostly to Soap. You slid under his radar. It took three years of serving with him before he said anything to you other than orders in the field.

“Y/N.” The sound of England never faded from his words. Maybe that is why he used his words so sparingly, to keep home close to his heart.

“Yes L.T.?” You stared at his tactical vest. You had already been reemed by Price for the ammeter mistake you had made today. You had nearly gotten Gaz killed.

“You good?”

This brought your gaze up sharply. You glanced over his face before turning your gaze back down.

“Nope, not at all.”

The tears began to well now. It was Memaw’s birthday and god if you didn’t miss her more than air sometimes.

You sniffed, a statue in front of you.

“Anything else Lieutenant?”

“No.”

You spun on your heel, stalking away from him.

He had been kinder after that. Well, kinder could be a bit of a stretch to call the change. He reminded you of a feral tom you had started to befriend when you were ten. You had found that old beast frozen to death behind the barn one winter. You stopped feeding the cats after that.

You had fallen for him, sand dropping grain by grain until you were in so deep only your nose stuck above the sand.

You never told him. One cannot expect a wild horse to love you more than the freedom of running. You tucked your feelings away, behind your vest and your metals. Always a soldier first.

“Y/N.” A hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present.

You looked up at Ghost, everything but the whites of his eyes blacked out. You were going on a midnight mission in the desert.

“If I die today, just know it’s not your fault.”

The man who more often stood frozen than in motion reeled back from your words.

“The fuck you mean Y/N? No one is going to die tonight, it’s just a recon mission.”

“Okay.”

You look down at your weapons, counting them and checking strap tightness.

“What’s this I hear about you dying?” Price strolls up to you, the casualness of his pace is betrayed by his words.

You sigh and turn to him, goatee always trimmed and combed to perfection.

“You ever just have a feeling captain?”

He shook his head, his hat casting odd shadows from the lights scattered around the base.

“Not feelings like that.”

“Mmm. My grandmother did, said goodbye to me the night before she passed. Told me I would die in the desert with the forest above my eyes. She’s close Cap.”

You can feel his stare, evaluating. You can see when he decides to let it ride, too much could go wrong tonight to switch out a different team member.

“Just, don’t do anything stupid out there okay?” He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, the other hand straying for a cigar.

“Cap?”

“Yeah,” he replies around the end of his now-lit cigar.

“If I do die tonight, would you give Ghost my flag? No one in my family will care when I am gone.”

Price puffs a stream of smoke out of his nose, reminding you of a dragon.

“Yeah, I will. Just don’t die out there okay?”

You offer a faint smile in reply.

The time finally comes and you join Ghost in a Humvee, you are the passenger in the front seat. This stupid car would lock up if the front seat got moved back and the mechs team had yet to figure out a workaround for it.

You rode along, moonlight guiding your path until a screech of metal bending, fire, and a shock wave that stole your vision rocked your world.

You wake staring at the stars agony licking along every nerve ending. You can’t hear anything, ears still ringing. You blink and Ghost is there, down by your knees. He is messing with something. You gasp as a tourniquet tightens down just above your knee. You knew what that meant, and it wasn’t good.

Ghost moves up, checking the rest of you for injuries. When he gets to your head he taps your cheek lightly, you can’t hear him past the ringing in your ears that won’t stop.

You grab your mic, you set it to record tonight as well as transmit.

“There’s no saving me tonight Simon.”

His eyes widen, either at the second proclamation of your death or at the use of his name. You had seen it on a single un-redacted file several years ago, a treasure you hoarded.

Your eyes flick around wildly, catching sight of shadows in the flames of your Humvee.

“I just need you to know that Price is giving you my flag.”

Ghost turns your face back to him, he has wrenched his mask up, his mouth visible.

‘why me’ you can make out.

You shrug with one shoulder, “Why not you? I’ve been in love with you for years.”

His mouth gapes like a fish searching for breathable oxygen.

“My mama is here now, I’ve got to go.”

You start to close your eyes.

Ghost shakes you, his yell sliding over the ringing.

“Y/N! You can’t just say that and up and die!”

You smile at him weakly. Everything about you is weak. You’ve lost too much blood. You lift your arm, it shakes wildly as it touches his face.

You slip your fingers below the mask, the bristle of his stubble a shock to you.

“Memaw’s here too. I love you.”

You don’t know how you missed it, serving with him for so many years. But Ghost’s eyes were forest green.

***

Ghost stood vigil with your body. He tucked your leg into place on the stretcher, right where it was before everything went sideways. He followed you, your blood on his cheek until physically restrained from where they prepared to send you stateside.

Price didn’t deny the leave request. Ghost had never requested one before, and your words still echoed in Cap’s ears. ‘Give him my flag.’ Price noted the flag would be given to your teammate, a man who legally was dead while you lay in a box.

Ghost didn’t cry as he sat in the cemetery, little white crosses laid so neatly as a testament to the greed of man. He didn’t cry as your countrymen folded your flag in such a small neat triangle, or when seven repeated shots felt as if they all stabbed into him.

No, he cried in the scummy motel that was rented by the hour with the strongest piss alcohol he could find. You had been in love with him? How had he not known?

You stayed with him. Your picture lived between his shirt and his vest, holding him safe from the missions that got more and more dangerous.

It was almost love.

You were on his mind when he found the bouncing Betty with the toe of his boot.

He managed to clear everyone far enough away before he moved, not quite fast enough though.

He swore you sat at his head, sliding your hand along the same cheek you had caressed so many years before. You smiled at him then, you hardly smiled at him while alive. You disappeared between Soap and Gaz as they rushed in to help him.

The loss of his leg had sent him home. Honorable discharge and a command from Price to stay away from the drink and get well enough to stay a veteran.

He tried so damn hard. He thought about you every day. It was almost love.

He made it until your death anniversary until he painted the walls with his brain matter. He prayed to any god that might listen that on the way to hell to just let him have a pit stop to see your face.

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