#I think I liked gaga’s look too but I have to take a closer look

[evansbby]

me looking at all the met outfits: 😐

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dick’s

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

synopsis: the only good part of your job at Dick’s Sporting Goods is how often Peter comes in to buy repairs for his suit

Masterlist

“Back so soon?”

“What?” Peter looked up and pulled his earbud out when he heard you say something. You chuckled when you heard the music coming through his earbuds and continued scanning the spandex shirt he was buying.

“You were here two nights ago.” You reminded him. “And four days before that. You’re here all the time, actually.”

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know that?” Peter blushed as you handed him the bag of his stuff. You looked around for anyone who might be listening before motioning for Peter to come closer. His blush deepened and he leaned across the register.

“I work here.” You whispered in his ear. You cracked a smile as you leaned back and pointed to the Dick’s Sporting Goods logo on your uniform shirt.

“Right.” He laughed shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all cool. I’m sorry that I work here too.” You shrugged, making Peter laugh again.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“The name of the store is Dick’s.” You said flatly. “And apparently, that’s the only kind of people they hire here.”

“Yeah. I asked someone for help finding the nuts and bolts and he asked if I looked in my mouth.” Peter admitted. Your jaw dropped in surprise before you burst out laughing.

“Who was it?” You asked him. “Did he have red hair?”

“Yeah. In the hardware section.”

“Fucking Jeremy. I’ll kick his ass for you, okay? I’m pretty sure he’s like 13 or something but I’ll still do it.” You said, and Peter couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

“That’s really not necessary.” He laughed shyly.

“All right.” You nodded. “Just know that I would. I’ve been looking for a reason to kick his ass anyway.”

“Why?” Peter wondered.

“Didn’t you see his face? It’s so punchable. Plus, he watches videos in the break room at full volume with no earbuds in. And if he thinks the video is funny, he’ll rewatch it multiple times. So then we all have to hear this loud, unfunny video multiple times. It drives me crazy. He deserves to get his ass kicked. I might do it just for fun now.”

“His face was pretty punchable.” Peter admitted.

“Can we hurry this up? This is taking way too long.” A man behind Peter complained, making your smile fall.

“That’s what she said.” You mumbled as you grabbed Peters receipt.

“To him.” Peter replied. You looked up at him and smiled in surprise.

“Because he’s probably bad at sex.” Peter explained in a weak voice.

“No, I got it. And I appreciated it. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Peter laughed shyly.

“One last question for you. Then I have to help Mr. Clean with his very important purchase of golf ball cleaner.” You said as you nodded towards the guy behind Peter.

“Oh, sure. Ask away.”

“Are you listening to Judas by Lady Gaga?” You asked and pointed to Peters earbuds. He turned red in embarrassment and thought about lying, but you clearly already knew.

“It’s her best song.” He said simply.

“Oh, I know that.” You assured him. “I just wanted to make sure that you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He matched your tone, making you smile.

“Well all right then. Have a good night. See you really soon probably.” You teased him.

“Yeah. See you soon.” Peter smiled at you as he took his receipt.

Peter practically skipped out of Dicks that night. He frequented the store every time his suit needed a repair and had seen you working there a few times, forever looking miserable behind the cash register. He just never thought you’d notice him too.

A few nights later, Peter busted the eye on his mask while on patrol. He dropped his suit off at home and when to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get something to replace it. When he brought it up to the register to buy and smiled when he saw you.

“Hey.” You smirked at him and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Hey.” He smiled softly at you.

“Gum?”

“What?” He asked. You wordlessly held up a pack of Big League Chew and blew another bubble.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m driving.” He replied without thinking. He felt embarrassed for malign a stupid joke but you cracked up over it.

“I use that joke all the time.” You laughed. “Except I usually say “no thanks, I’m trying to quit.” I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I like yours better.” Peter tried to flirt.

“You can steal it. I won’t mind.” You winked at him and blew another big pink bubble. Peter gulped as you handed him his bag.

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You called after him as he left the store.

He returned a few days later, not that he needed anything. He was here for you this time. He came into the store at night with a plan to learn your name. It wasn’t much, but it was a step towards getting to know you better.

“Hey, Judas Boy.” You waved to Peter from behind the register.

“Hey, Dick’s girl.” He waved back and grabbed some spandex before heading to the register.

“Oh, thank God.” You said sarcastically. “You haven’t bough red and blue spandex shirts in almost a week. I was worried you were going to run out.”

“I almost did. This week has not been easy.” Peter humored you. You smiled when he played along and put his stuff into a bag.

“How come you guys don’t wear name tags?” Peter asked you as he put his plan into action.

“We’re supposed to. We’re also supposed to wear hard shoes and khaki pants.” You said behind your hand and pointed your foot out from behind the register to show him your leggings and crocs.

“I see. Not much of a rule follower?”

“I can be. But not for Dicks. Nothing for Dicks.” You said with such passion he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not.

“But where else can you find a spandex section like this?” Peter joked and held up his bag.

“Models. Target. Walmart. Patagonia.“ You started to list off.

“Okay, sure.” Peter agreed. “But Dicks is the only one that carries red and blue.”

“Oh, I see. And red is blue is the only kind you can buy?” You chuckled.

“Obviously. What am I supposed to wear? Black?” Peter grimaced, making you laugh again.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? I’ve always wondered that. Why could you possibly be doing that you need all this red and blue spandex clothing?”

“Cause I’m Spiderman.” Peter said with a simply shrug. He held his breath and hoped you take that as a joke, which of course, you did.

“That’s hot.” You smirked and handed him his receipt.

“Have a good night.” He told you.

“Night.”

Peter was back just a few nights later. He never actually learned your name, so he technically had an excuse to return. He brought a spandex shirt up to the register and you laughed when you saw it.

“I think you’re single handedly funding our red and blue spandex supply.”

“Really? I’m the only one who buys it?”

“Just you.” You nodded. “My boss said he wasn’t gonna order anymore but I told him that would be making one special customer very unhappy.”

“You told him to order more just for me?” Peter smiled shyly and felt his blush go all the way to his ears.

“Duh.” You scoffed. “I gotta earn that sweet, sweet $15 an hour somehow. Pleasing one specific customer is how I choose to do it.”

“$15 an hour to work by yourself every night is insane. But I don’t even get paid for my job, so I’m not one to talk.”

“What is your job?” You wondered.

“I told you. I’m Spiderman.”

“No, but really.” You laughed. Peter looked down at the spandex and tried to think of any other profession that could explain why he was always buying it.

“I’m a male ballerina.” He said finally.

“For real?” Your eyes widened. “That’s way cooler.”

“Cooler than Spiderman?”

“Hell yeah.” You scoffed. “I’ve never seen Spiderman do a pas de deux.”

“I’ve never seen anyone do a pack de- um…”

“Pas de deux.” You chuckled when he couldn’t say the word.

“Yeah. That.” He blushed again.

“Have a good night then, nutcracker.” You said with a wink.

“Night, Dick‘s girls.”

The next time Peter came into the store, he had to stay away from the spandex section. May was getting suspicious about why he was buying so much when his suit didn’t have any visible damage, so he had to think of something else.

“Gummy worms?” You asked as Peter dropped a bag of sour gummy worms on the counter.

“You sell them. So I’m buying them.” He shrugged. You laughed as you scanned it and looked up at him.

“Do you live around here?”

“About 4 blocks away.” He answered. “Why?”

“Because this is New York. Which means you had to have passed, at the very least, 4 corner stores to get here. All of which sell gummy worms. And yet, you chose to walk all the way to a sporting goods store to get them. Why is that?” You asked as you leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t need spandex tonight.” He admitted as a blush painted his cheeks.

“Then why’d you come out here?” You smirked.

“Because I’m a stalker. And I’m learning your schedule so I can smite you and wear your skin.” He replied without thinking. He held his breath again but was sure you would not find a joke about him killing you to be funny. But to his surprise, you smirked in amusement.

“That’s hot.” You said replied. “Can you cover my shifts for me once you start wearing my skin?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“Cool. Enjoy your worms.” You chuckled and handed him his candy. Peter was about to leave when he decided to rip open the bag and hand you a worm.

“For your troubles, madam.” He said, then made a dash for the door. He heard you laughing as he walked out into the street, making it all worth while.

Peter returned to the store the next day but felt his heart sink in disappointment when he didn’t see you behind the register. He turned to leave and jumped when you were standing right behind him.

“Have you ever seen Black Swan?” You asked him.

“What? Jesus Christ. You scared me.” He said and put his hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re a male ballerina, right? You must’ve seen Black Swan.”

“No. I’ve never heard of it.” Peter answered as his eyes darted to the side.

“That was the face of a man who has 100% seen lezzy wet dream scene from Black Swan.” You laughed and pointed to him.

“Maybe once or twice.” His whispered.

“Well I’m going on break now and I was gonna go watch it in the storage room.”

“Oh. That sounds fun.”

“You wanna come?” You asked him like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. Peter looked around to see if any customers or employees were watching before following you into the back. He knew he shouldn’t be walking through a door that said “employees only”, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to hang out with you.

“Am I allowed back here?” Peter whispered and stayed close behind you.

“Probably not.” You shrugged and led him to the storage room. You shut the door behind the two of you and sat down on one of the shelves.

“Will you get in trouble?” Peter asked as he took a seat beside you.

“Maybe.” You shrugged again and pulled the movie up on your phone.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your manager. I’d feel horrible.”

“Dude, my manger is 17 and high as a kite right now.” You snorted. “He won’t care as long as we don’t interrupt his vape session.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter relaxed and leaned against the wall. You shoulders were touching and he realized this was the closest you’d ever been.

“Here. I didn’t want to subject you to using a strangers earbuds so I stole this from the front.” You said as you pulled new earbuds out of your pocket. You tore them out of the plastic casing and plugged them into your phone before offering Peter one.

“They’re your favorite colors, right?” You asked in a soft voice. The earbuds were red and blue, the only colors Peter ever bought. They weren’t actually his favorite colors, just the color of his suit, but he thought it was cute that you specifically got this pair thinking he’d like the colors.

“Yeah. Red and blue are great.” He smiled softly and put his earbud in. You put the other in and started the movie. Peter couldn’t pay attention to a single second because the smell of your perfume was triggering all his senses. He stared at you instead of the screen until his eyes landed on the earbuds connecting you.

“I can’t believe you stole for me.” He said with a smug grin.

“Relax. I don’t do it often. But I did also steal these for you.” You said and pulled a pack of gummy worms out of your other pocket. Peters face lit up and he opened the worms before handing you one. Your fingers touched at one point when you both reached for a word and he gulped.

“When did you take these anyway?” He wondered.

“A couple hours ago when I first clocked in.” You replied. “I made sure to wait until I was on the company’s time before I took them. I don’t do anything here until I’m on the company’s time.”

“So you knew you were going to ask me to watch this with you when you first got here?” He asked as a smile crossed his face. You looked up from the movie and sheepishly turned to face him.

“You always come in at this time. And I’ve always wanted to see this movie. I figured you’d like it because you like ballet. Is that weird?” You asked, sounding nervous for the first time.

“No. It’s not weird.” Peter shook his head to assure you. You smiled in appreciation and nodded before turning back to the movie. Peter was able to focus on it now, but couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

“I love getting paid to watch gay movies.” You sighed happily as the movie neared its end.

“You need to make money somehow. God, I need a job. I’m gonna go broke from this store alone.”

“You’ve never looked at your receipt, have you?” You chuckled and looked over at him.

“No. Why?”

“Every time you come in here, I only charge you for tic tacs.” You admitted. “No matter what you buy, I just remove the tag and then scan a pack of wintergreen tic tacs.”

“Wait, seriously? Why?” He smiled curiously and turned to face you.

“Because then I can eat the tic tacs without feeling bad about stealing since you paid for them.” You shrugged. “And so that you don’t give all your money to Dick’s Sporting Goods just to fuel your spandex fetish. You only ever spend a dollar or so when you come here. I can’t believe you never realized that.”

“So you’ve been saving me money this whole time? Those shirts are like $15 each.”

“Isn’t that crazy?” You chuckled. “An hour of my work is worth a single, thin shirt. That makes me feel less guilty about never making you pay.”

“You’re really cool for that. Thanks.” Peter said sincerely.

“Yeah, well. I think you’re cool too.” You shrugged and looked down so he couldn’t see your smile. Peter stared at you with a dreamy smile on his face until he noticed the clock behind you.

“How long is your break?” He wondered.

“15 minutes.” You shrugged.

“15 minutes?! We’ve been back for over an hour.” Peter whispered harshly.

“Jeremys got it.” You waved your hand. “I cover for him all the time. He owes me.”

“Okay, good.” Peter sighed. “As long as you won’t get in trouble.”

“Will you stop worrying about me? I’ll be fine. You need to start breaking a few rules every now and then. Do you always do exactly what you’re expected to?”

“You’d be surprised.” Peter mumbled and debated telling you the reason he was always buying red and blue spandex. You noticed he had a far off look in his eyes and moved his chin to make him look at you.

“You never told me your name, by the way.” You said in a soft voice.

“It’s Peter.” He replied as his eyes dropped to your lips. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N!” Jeremey came barging into the m storage room, making you and Peter jump away from each other.

“Oh, there you are.” Jeremy smiled calmly. “Can you help me ring this guy up? He has a coupon but it’s expired.”

“So then he doesn’t have a coupon.”

“I know but he’s being really annoying about it and told me to get the manger but Kyle is vaping and said not to disturb him.” Jeremy whined.

“Damn, still? How long has this kid been vaping for? Are we even sure he’s alive?” Peter asked.

“Wait, who’s that?” Jeremy frowned and pointed to Peter. You and Peter exchanged a panicked look.

“That’s Peter. He works the night shift.” You said quickly.

“I’m Peter. I work the night shift.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t really care. You could’ve been back here smocking crack and sucking dick with a total stranger and I would not have batted an eye. Lord knows I’ve done it. But I do really need your help with the coupon.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You grumbled and got up to go follow Jeremy. Peter got up as well to let himself out.

“See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm before heading back to the register. Peter touched the part of his arm where you’d hand had been and smiled softly.

“See you later.”

Peter walked out of the store with a huge smile on his face. But loud noises coming from dumpster behind the store caught Peters attention. He climbed up the wall and walked along the roof so he could scope out what was going on. When Peter saw two guys trying to pick the lock to the back door, he quickly pulled his suit out of his backpack and put it on. He dropped down behind the two guys and cleared his throat when they didn’t hear him.

“Hey guys. I guess you didn’t see the front door. It’s right around the block under the huge, glowing sign that says Dick’s.” Peter said sarcastically. The guys stopped what they were doing and wiped around.

“Woah. It’s the Spiderman.” One of the guys gasped.

“Why do people always say “the” Spiderman?” Peter wondered. “It’s just Spiderman. I was very clear about that when I first started.”

“Let’s get this freak.” The other guy said and started walking towards Peter.

“Before we fight, I should let you guys know that two against one isn’t really fair when the one has web shooters.” Peter said as he raised his fists. His cocky smile disappeared when three more guys came out of the shadows and closed in on him. The five guys took turns punching and kicking Peter until he laid on the ground in a ball. He struggled to catch his breath and coughed up some blood as one of the guys delivered another kick to his stomach. One of them rolled him over and climbed on top of him with his fist raised in the air. Peter accepted his fate and was about to shut his eyes when a hammer, still in its package, came flying through the air and hit the guy in the head. The man grunted in pain and fell off of Peter. This gave Peter enough time to crawl away as more hammers were thrown in the direction of the men. Peter weakly looked up and saw you standing in the doorway with a bunch of hammers in your arms that you were haphazardly throwing at the men.

“Eat my hammer!” You yelled and threw another hammer at the head of one of the guys. Peter let out a weak laugh and clutched his side in pain.

“Dick’s girl?” He asked groggily.

“It’s Y/n.” You reminded him and threw another hammer. This time, one of the guys caught the hammer and started running towards you. Before Peter could get up to protect you, you pulled a bowling ball out from the floor beneath you and threw it at the guy. He was knocked to the ground as you pulled something else behind your bat. When you stepped under a streetlight, Peter as able to see you had taken a lacrosse stick from the store. You whacked one of the guys across the face so hard that he fell to the ground. You swept the leg of another guy, leaving only one standing. Peter held his aching body as you fearlessly walked up to the final goon.

“Spiderman over here is my friend. He’s one of the much, much friendlier Avengers. But not me. I’m fucking mental. I was trained in kung fu for the moment I could walk. I was raised to be a weapon. You don’t want to mess with me.” You said to the man as your rung the lacrosse stick in your hands.

“Oh please. I’ve taken shits bigger than you.” The man sneered and pointed to you. You smirked and caught his finger between your thumb and index finger while keeping your pinky upright.

“You see this? This is called the Wuxi Finger hold. If I bend my pinky, your chi is gonna be so fucked that all the bones in your body will break and half this block will be decimated.” You told him

“You’re bluffing.” He scoffed. “That’s not possible.”

“You wanna find out?” You asked and tightened your grip on his finger. The man’s eyes flicked between your face and his finger as he debated whether or not he believed you.

“This chick is crazy. Let’s get out of here.” The guys finally decided and took off running. The four others groaned as the got up and ran away as well. You sighed and threw the bloody lacrosse stick into the dumpster before looking down at Peter.

“So you’re not a male ballerina?”

“No. I’m Spiderman.”

“That’s not as cool.” You mumbled and bent down to help him sit up fully.

“Can you really break all his bones with one finger?” Peter asked you.

“Huh? Oh, no.” You chuckled. “I stole that shit from Kung Fu Panda. Those ska-douches clearly don’t have good taste in movies so they didn’t even realize.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled weakly. “Well, thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Come on.” You winked at him and carefully helped him stand up. You wrapped his arm around you and helped him limp his way into the break room. You raided the sports injury aisle before helped Peter up onto a table.

“Am I allowed to be back here?” Peter asked as he pulled his mask off.

“No one’s gonna know. Kyles vaping in the baseball aisle and Jeremy went home.” You said and set the supplies you had taken down on the table beside him.

“Are you allowed to take those?”

“You are quite a rule follower for the face of illegal vigilanteism, you know that?” You chuckled and opened a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m actually not a vigilante. I’m on Mr. Starks roster. We have government clearance.”

“Okay. So just tell yourself I have government clearance to steal these supplies.” You told him, making him laugh. You laughed as well and started to clean him up. Peter stared at you fondly as you patched up his wounds.

“I really appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m in charge of filling out the inventory catalogues when we get shipments. I can easily make it look like these supplies never existed. Don’t worry, okay? And even if I do get in trouble, it’ll be worth it.” You said without looking at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Peter asked softly. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because I like you.” You shrugged. “I think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

“Is that shocking?” You laughed and cleaned a cut above his eyebrow.

“Kinda. I’m kinda a loser.”

“Really? Because I didn’t see any losers out there tonight. You know, other than those five losers trying to break into a Dick’s sporting goods. I’m really glad all the golf pencils and eye paint are safe.” You said sarcastically. Peter laughed and rested his hands on your hips.

“I like you too, by the way.”

“You do?” You asked skeptically.

“A lot, actually. Sometimes, I don’t even need anything. I just come here and hope you’re working.”

“Well I asked my boss to only schedule me at night because you never come in during the day.” You playfully one upped him.

“Really? You did that because of me?” He smiled fondly.

“You coming in here is the only good thing about this place.” You answered honestly.

“You’re the only reason I come.” Peter told you.

“Ayo.” You snickered.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It was funny.”

“No you know why I’m always in here buying spandex and random things. I bust up my suit a lot and the guy who made it for me isn’t around anymore.”

“It’s a pretty cool suit. I can’t even tell where you’ve patched it up. I guess our spandex is just really high quality.”

“You got some pretty cool clothes yourself. Not everyone can pull off Hunter green.”

“Wanna see something?” You asked and unzipped the green Dick’s zip up on had on to reveal a black T- shirt underneath that read “I heart Dick’s” with the stores logo in the heart.

“I heart dicks? No way that’s a real uniform.” Peter laughed and pulled on your shirt to read it better.

“Yep. I couldn’t believe it either. I guess the Boomers that make our uniforms don’t see penis humor in everything like our generation does. I tried to tell my boss that these shirts were ridiculous but he said he’d fire me if I didn’t wear it. Even though I literally hate Dick’s.”

“You do?”

“Not that kind of dick.” You laughed. “I meant the store. If this place burned down, I wouldn’t pee on it to put it out. In fact, I probably started the fire.”

“Then why don’t you quit?”

“I need a job.” You shrugged. “And they’re super understaffed so they give me a lot of hours. Plus, if I left, how would I see you?”

“We could hang out. Preferably not in a Dick’s sporting goods.” Peter suggested.

“That’s my favorite place to hang out.” You smiled. “Can I give you my number?”

“I mean, if you want.” Peter joked as he handed you his phone. You put his number in and handed it back to him.

“There. That’s my number.”

“It’s hot.” He said as he looked at it. He gulped and looked up at you, thinking you’d find that weird.

“You’re such a weirdo.” You chuckled. “You better text me.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” You said and poked his chest. Peter stared at you for a moment as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Would it be weird if we kissed right now?” He asked you.

“Yes.” You scoffed. “You’re covered in blood and gravel.”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right.” He blushed in embarrassment and nodded his head. You cracked a smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. Peter felt love in that Dick’s Sporting Goods that night. It was all around him. The kiss ended sooner than he would’ve liked, but it was still perfect.

“Hey, you did it anyway.” He smiled in surprise.

“Yeah, well. I wanted to.” You laughed shyly and kept your arms around his neck.

“And then she kissed me anyway. And she got Neosporin all over her face. And my blood! It was insane, Ned. I wish you could’ve seen her with the lacrosse stick. She destroyed so much store property. It was incredible.” Peter jumped in excitement as he recanted the story to Ned the next day.

“You had your first kiss in Dicks sporting goods?” Ned whispered in awe.

“Uh huh.” Peter nodded.

“What are you guys talking about?” Flash asked as he stuck his head between Peter and Ned.

“Nothing.” Peter said quickly and gave Ned a look.

“Peter kissed the hot Dicks cashier.” Ned blurted.

“Ned!” Peter whispered harshly. “Why would you tell him that?”

“You kissed Alejandro?” Flash gasped and looked jealous.

“What? No. Who even is that?”

“I know all the Dicks sporting goods employees by name. I’m in there all the time buying golf and tennis and bad mitten shit because I’m rich as fuck. If it wasn’t Alejandro, then who was it?” Flash questioned.

“Her name is Y/n. She works the closing shift.” Peter told him.

“Wait, the one with the rebellious gleam in her eyes? No way you kissed her.” Flash snorted. “I’ve been trying to get her number for months.”

“Really? Because I got it last night.” Peter replied with a shrug.

“And a smooch.” Ned added. “On the mouth.”

“He knows where, Ned.” Peter whispered without taking his eyes off Flash.

“There is no way in hell that Penis Parker was macking on a hot cashier. And at Dick’s sporting goods no less.” Flash laughed loudly, drawing the attention of students passing by.

“It’s true.” Peter insisted. “And I don’t care if you believe me or not. Because I know it’s real.”

“Wow. You hear that, everybody? Penis Parker has a fake girlfriend!” Flash shouted in the hallway. People stopped to laugh and point at Peter, making him turn red.

“What? No I don’t.”

“He’s pretending he had a girlfriend who works at Dicks Sporting Goods to make up for the fact that no one will ever touch his dicks sporting goods.” Flash said even louder.

“Oh my God. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Peter grumbled and Ned followed after him as he left. Once they were out of the crowd, Peter pulled his phone out and looked over your last conversation.

“Do you think it’s weird she hasn’t texted me back in a while?” He asked Ned.

“Well what was the last thing you guys talked about?”

“We were in the middle of a conversation about the best Adam Sandler movie and she ghosted me.” Peter said as he checked the time. Your shift had definitely started by now and he knew you texted on company time.

“Is she working tonight?”

“Yeah. Closing shift.”

“So go visit her.” Ned shrugged.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Peter worried.

“She wouldn’t have kissed you if she didn’t like you.” Ned reminded him.

“I guess so. Okay. I’ll go see her after class.”

Once Peters last class ended, he pulled out his phone to call you as he walked in the direction of your store. You answered the phone but didn’t say anything.

“Hey. I was just thinking of you.” Peter said into the phone.

“Peter.” You whispered in a shaky voice. He could tell you were crying and froze in his tracks.

“I was planning on stopping by. Is everything okay?” He asked and quickened his pace in the direction of the store.

“No. I don’t think you should come in.” You said quietly. Peter stopped walking and felt his heart sink. You must’ve lost feelings after the kiss and didn’t want to hang out anymore.

“Oh. Oh, okay. No problem. I won’t come by.” He said and tried not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

“But maybe your friend can come in?” You asked, making his senses tingle.

“My friend?” He asked and started towards the store again.

“Yeah. The ballerina.” You replied and he knew exactly what you meant. Peter stopped in an alleyway to throw on his suit before running towards the store.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You said with a forced laugh.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Who are you talking to? Is that a phone? I said all phones in the bag.” Peter heard from your end of the phone. You hung up after that and Peter raced to the store. When he got there, he snuck in through the back and quietly made his way to the front. He found you behind the register with your hands up in the air as a man in a hulk mask stood in front of you.

“Hey, buddy. Let me guess. The last jock strap you bought was too loose you’re back for another one?” Peter said, making the guy whip around. That’s when Peter saw the gun in his hand and froze.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t see the gun from behind.” Peter said and put his hands in the air. He made eye contact with you from behind the register and you mouthed that you were sorry.

“Why don’t you walk out of here and pretend you didn’t see anything, okay pal?” The man said as he pointed the gun back at you.

“Sorry sir, but I can’t do that. You see, I’m quite taken with the cashier you’re holding at gunpoint here.” Peter said and pointed to you. You let out a short laugh as tears fell down your face.

“Good. Then you can watch me blow her head to bits.” The man said and took a step towards you. You let out a little squeak in fear and shut your eyes.

“Can I convince you to reconsider? She’s got a great head. I’d hate to see it get blown off.” Peter said calmly and slowly made his way towards the man.

“I said you could take the money. Just take it and leave.” You pleaded with the man.

“There was only $36.62 in there. I didn’t rob store for less than 40 bucks.” The man shouted at you.

“No one uses cash anymore.” You whimpered. “It’s all Apple Pay.”

“Then tell me the combination to the safe.” He yelled and tightened his grip on the gun.

“I don’t remember it.” You cried. “I don’t listen when my boss talks to me.”

“You’re lying! I know you know.”

“Why would I lie? You think I’d risk my life to protect this store? I hate this store. It’s so stupid. Why is it called Dick’s? Who is Dick?”

“She’s making some excellent points.” Peter agreed.

“Both of you shut up! Give me the combination to the safe now or I’ll shoot you both.”

“I don’t know it!” You exclaimed. “I don’t even know the address to this place.”

“You think this is funny?” The man asked and took a step closer to you to the gun was pressed against your forehead.

“Not right now but I probably will later.” You answered honestly.

“That’s it. You’re dead.” The man said and cocked his gun.

“No!” Peter exclaimed as he dove towards you. He knocked you safely onto the ground while the man shot him three times in the chest. You screamed as Peter fell to the ground in a thud. You were about to reach for him when he jumped back up on his feet.

“Just kidding! It’s bulletproof.” Peter said cheerfully as he shot a web at the man’s gun. He yanked it out of his hand and threw it to the side before shooting two more webs that stuck the man’s arms to his sides and glued his legs to together. The man fell to the ground and tried to break free, but was unsuccessful. Peter shot one last web at the man’s face before pulling his mask off. He turned around to ask you if you were okay and was immediately met by you throwing your arms around him. He pulled his mask off before hugging you back tightly until your breathing calmed down.

“How did you know you were bullet proof?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “I just knew that you weren’t.”

You pulled away to stare at him in disbelief, almost looking angry with him for risking his life for you. Your angry expression melted into a look of awe.

“Thats hot.” You said and threw your arms around him to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and held you tighter, only breaking apart when you needed to catch your breath.

“Do you kiss all your local cashiers like that?” You asked him.

“Nope.” He chuckled. “Just you.”

“Good. You better keep it that way.”

Peter smiled and pressed his forehead against yours as you both calmed down from all the excitement when a thought crossed his mind.

“Did you really not know the combination to the safe or were you protecting the store?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Are you accusing me of risking my life to protect Dick’s Sporting Goods from a robbery?” You pretended to be offended and put your hand over your heart.

“No. But I am accusing you not telling that guy the safe combination just to mess with him.” Peter replied. A smirk crossed your face as you went over to the safe and put in the combination.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for a bit.” You said as you pulled the safe open.

“I knew it.” Peter laughed and shook his head.

“I was planning on telling you something tonight. You know, before I got held at gunpoint by a man shorter than I am.” You said as you walked back over to Peter.

“Oh really? What?”

“They’re making me store manager. That means you can get all the free spandex and gummy worms you want.”

“No way.” Peter grinned. “They promoted you?”

“Kinda.” You waved your hand. “The last store manger went to jail for insider trading and I’m the only other employee over 18.”

“But still! I’m so proud of you.” He said and scooped you into a hug.

“You know, when they promoted me, you were the first person I wanted to tell.” You admitted. Peter pulled away to cup your face and smile at you.

“I’m honored. No one in this shamble of a store deserved it more than you.”

“I can make my own hours now because it’s my job to make the schedule. So let me know when you want to go on our first date that isn’t in a Dick’s sporting goods.” You smiled teasingly.

“I will.” He smiled back before getting serious. He blew out a breath and looked you in the eye.

“Dick’s girl, I have so enjoyed our time together. Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend maybe?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe I would.” You shrugged. “But only if you never call me “Dick’s girl” again.”

“I can definitely do that.” Peter nodded and kissed you again. The kiss was interrupted by the sound of cops pulling up in front of the store.

“Cops are here. I gotta go.” Peter said apologetically and pulled his mask back on.

“Bye, Spiderman!” You waved at him as he walked towards the front door.

“Bye, Dick’s girl!” He shouted back before swinging off into the night.

“What did Spiderman just call you?” The police officer as he walked into the store.

“Don’t worry about it.”

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[pinkkittysaw]

BUT I CAN’T STOP STARING IN THOSE EVIL EYES

title is based off a lyric in lady gaga’s MONSTER

my halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: plaga leon s. kennedy x plaga f!reader

summary: while wandering through an ill kept factory, you and leon grow closer in unimaginable ways due to unforeseen circumstances

word count: 5,648

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked!) minor dub-con (in the beginning), slightly rough leon, mind control, notes of voyuerism, fingering, male masturbation, boot humping, minor breast/nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding, degradation, praise, petnames (baby, princess, sweetie) leon steps on you, reader is wearing a skirt

*some things to note: though saddler is willing leon and reader into having sex, they both want to sleep with each other of their own volition regardless of the plaga’s influence, it’s the circumstances surrounding it that makes them apprehensive

there are lines of dialogue from RE4R used in paragraphs 12, 14-15, 18, 23 & 39. i do not claim to own these lines or any media from Capcom

a/n: first time writing for leon so please be kind!!! i am just a simple mouse girl :( i thought it’d be interesting to write the plaga “overtaking” him and reader in a sense, watching his mood change drastically much like how it does in the OG RE 4 in this scene with ada (choking cw)

divider by @/benkeibear

You stare at the huge chunk of amber in front of you; it's pretty. The reflecting light gives it a soft orange hue, brightening the dull room it inhabits. After closer inspection, you notice what appears to be hundreds, if not thousands, of Las Plagas encased in the resin. You were almost too scared to be looking at them for so long, fearful that the parasites would jump out at you from their confinement once you crossed a certain threshold.

Cocking your head to the side, you think aloud, "I wonder if this is where they extract the plaga."

Leon, who's rummaging around the room looking for any spare supplies, pipes up, "Who knows? I certainly don't feel like waiting around to find out. Come on." He waves you over, walking toward the exit after determining that none of the scrap in the room was worth taking.

"Alright," you agree, beginning to move towards him.

Then, all of a sudden, your movements are halted, unable to continue forward. "Fuck, no no no,” you think to yourself. Leon looks behind his shoulder, noticing that you haven't moved from your position.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You can barely speak, clenching your teeth together as you force the words out.

"I can't fucking move." You demonstrate your lack of mobility as you attempt to force your body forward, but the most that happens is the slight twitching of your arm and legs.

"What?" Leon's about to stride over to you when the door opens behind him. He's quick on his feet, his gun in the air, aiming his pistol at the tall figure and a group of robed cultists that soon follow him into the room.

"Welcome, my children," he states as the two followers remove the hood of his purple robe, the rest filing around the two of you.

"I am Osmund Saddler. The speaker for our Lord."

Leon, obviously fed up with all the loony bullshit, shoots Saddler straight in the eye. "Tell someone who gives a shit."

Saddler reels back from the shot but doesn't die, staying hunched over due to the impact. "Foolish lambs," he scoffs. "Why do you deny grace?" The volume of his voice rises, and all at once, Leon keels over, taking a knee as he almost completely falls to the floor in front of you, now frozen in place while his gun falls from his hands.

You try to reach out to him, but your movements are stunted.

"Now, abandon your body." Your body is not your own.

"Obey, obey the voice of our lord," Saddler commands as your forced motions bring you closer to Leon. There's a ringing in your ears as he gives you orders; the noise is so piercing that you're ready to stuff your ears full of cotton just to make it stop.

Leon's now back on his feet, his veins turning black against his skin as his arm reaches out to you. His body trembles as he extends forward. You're compelled to move onward slowly, reaching down for Leon's pistol.

"Stop, please," you plead, your wrist swaying back and forth as the gun locks onto Leon. "No," you grit, resisting with everything you have while your arm continues to wobble. Tears stream down your face as you're forced to pull the trigger, shooting one of the cultists to Leon's side, watching them drop dead to the floor.

"Sweet child, do not resist." His commands turn into scolding. The ringing in your ears gets louder as your arm moves again. "Please," you wail into the open air, willing to give anything as long as it meant that he stayed alive. The trigger is pulled again, and the other masked figure drops to the ground.

Leon's face coils up, and his body jerks, trying to reach you, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you pull the trigger for the final time, scrunching up your eyes, not wanting to witness his lifeless body drop to the floor. The gun clicks and falls in front of you while you collapse onto your knees, sobbing onto the floor beneath, your tears staining the dark concrete floors.

Leon is released from his own entrapment and rushes over to comfort you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

It's funny, you think, in a twisted sort of way. You almost killed him, and here he was, asking if you were alright.

"Pray forgive these wicked sinners," Saddler exhales while shaking his head. Leon's about to lunge for his gun when you're both halted once more.

"Injecting one's blood with the plaga isn't the only way to diffuse it among the populous."

Both you and Leon are manipulated until you're standing in front of each other, his hand reaching out to grab at your hip.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not me, I-"

He gets cut off by Saddler. "The plaga can reproduce sexually as well as through implantation." And it's all of a sudden that you feel a certain heat growing inside you—desire, a sort of carnality—and if the crimson on Leon's cheeks is anything to go by, he's feeling it too. There's a certain glint in his eyes now, a hunger that wasn't there before. Both his and your irises turn a bright vermillion as the plaga fully takes control. It's overwhelming. All of your senses are heightened, now very much cognizant of Leon's hand on your hip, the warmth of his skin permeating through your skirt. All you want now is for him to bend you over and take you.

You shake your head in the hopes of clearing your mind. God, when did you start harboring such intense feelings for him like this? This can't be okay, can it? He saved your life. He's a government agent simply doing his job to rescue you from this hell hole. That's what these feelings are—just misplaced appreciation. You try to reason with yourself as the growing need between your legs calls more and more for your attention.

"What the hell's going on?" Your voice is harsh as it cuts through the air. Leon's grip tightens on your hip, almost as if he's holding himself back.

"Is it not obvious, sweet child? You two have perfect compatibility as sexual mates, and since you're both able to resist killing each other, I'll just have to change my line of thinking and make things easier for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leon grunts.

"Why deny it? It's quite clear that you're attracted to each other."

"I barely even needed to coax the plaga into doing anything."

As fucked up as this entire situation was, Saddler wasn't wrong, at least in regard to your side of things. You were intrigued by Leon from the moment he found you, rescuing you after being hog-tied and thrown into one of the wardrobes of an abandoned cabin. He was still incredibly handsome, even if you didn't trust him at first. From the subtle bounce of his soft ashen hair when he jogged to the bulge of his biceps whenever he slicked his fingers through the silky strands and how he was so protective over you, so kind. You could go on and on listing the things you found attractive about him. How he looked suplexing zealots, the slope of his nose bridge, his little smirk after roundhousing ganados, the thickness of his thighs, the swell of his **very** defined chest, and god, his ass. His cute, full-pert ass that you could just-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

This isn't right. You shouldn't be thinking of him this way, but no matter how much you try to resist, you're always coaxed back into these feelings of sensuality. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him fucking you against one of the crumbling walls in the village, holding you so tightly against him while he tugs on your tits. Arousal pools in your panties as heat rushes to your face at the thought.

"Fuck," you murmur, and Leon looks over at you, his breath more labored than before. 

"Submit your bodies and release yourself from fear!" Saddler booms, waving his staff around in the air. It's then that you feel Leon's hand underneath your skirt, cupping your mound through your tights, his other hand still gripping at your waist. 

"Leon-" you say exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he leans into you, inhaling your scent. "I'm sorry." His lips press into the side of your neck, slowly moving against the sensitive skin. It's so gentle and kind, and if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you're somewhere else, not in a dusty room of an old factory, being coerced to have sex through the means of a parasite.

"You're so soft...smell so good," he mumbles into your ear. Even if you're forced to fuck in front of Saddler and his devotees, Leon at least wants his words of care and fondness to be private—to be yours.

You can't help but moan out loud at his ministrations on your neck, feeling your skin crawl with a newfound heat. Your nipples pebble in your bra, and how desperately you want his hands to be on your breasts, kneading them. You wrap your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into the smooth, pale tresses at his nape.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he confesses over and over. He knows this is wrong. He should have a stronger will than this. He shouldn't be sleeping with the hostage he was tasked with saving. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, if at all. He probably wouldn't have confronted his feelings in any other circumstances, seeing how wildly inappropriate they were. He would've rather taken you somewhere nice—maybe a fancy hotel—and do all the sappy, romantic shit you deserve—the candles, the music, the mood lighting. It'd be sweet and kind, but no. Instead, you get this, being made to breed like cattle. The only comfort he can offer is through his words, his mind trying to fight against the plaga, but you smell too good, your skin so supple and warm against his mouth; it's almost as if he can feel the blood pulsing through your jugular vein. He gently grazes his teeth over the area, biting and pulling the skin taught.

"Don't apologize. You feel good too," you exhale, pushing your chest against his.

"I shouldn't let this sick bastard have so much control over me, but god, you feel so good against me," he groans, worming his hand under the band of your tights and underwear. You loll your head back as his assault on your neck continues. He sucks the skin gently as the worn leather of his gloves makes its presence known against your mound. His finger swipes between your slit, gathering the wetness leaking from your entrance to rub soft circles on your clit.

"Christ, you're already so wet for me, baby," he groans against your neck, your breath hitching at his words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" An amused tilt now present in his voice, the soft circles on your clit continuing as he speaks against your throat. "You like me calling you baby?"

"Yeah," you mewl, your hand reaching down to grip his forearm.

"That's it. Just focus on me making you feel good." Your cute noises cause blood to rush to his cock, making it stiffen in his pants. Your head rests against his chest as he continues to play with you.

"You want my fingers, baby?"

"Yes," you pant, pressing your face into the middle of his chest. He lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his digit circling your entrance before sinking into your warm cunt. "Oooh, you're so tight, sweetie. Squeezing my finger real nice."

"I can't wait til you're on my cock." he mumbles against your throat once again, smirking. His finger curls deep into your soaked pussy, thrusting in and out as you grind against his palm.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasp, his lips resuming the suckling of your skin as he adds another finger, stuffing your cunt with their thickness, the leather of his gloves wet with your slick as it glides against your clit. You look down from his chest to see his hardened cock starting to poke through his utility pants. Your hand wriggling down to slowly palm him through the fabric, a soft moan rearing from his throat at your touch.

Through feeling him against your palm, he seems to be an impressive size, definitely girthy from what you can make out.

You slide your hand back and forth against the crotch of his pants, his hips lightly bucking into you as a grumbled "fuck" falls from his lips. He sounds so hot when he moans, and you want to hear more.

"I need you to come for me, sweetheart. I need your pussy on my cock so bad." He curls his fingers some more, hitting that soft, spongey spot that makes you see stars. A few more thrusts from his digits and nudges from his palm have you arching into him, his mouth swooping down to swallow your moans through a kiss. He's the only one that gets to hear you cum, despite the audience you both have.

He keeps his fingers stuffed in your cunt as you ride out your orgasm, the sensation of your pussy squeezing down on him making his head whirl in anticipation.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he murmurs, guiding you through the waves.

Despite having just came, you're still just as eager, if not more so, to palm him through his black cargos. 

"Easy, easy. You'll have me soon enough," he coos in an attempt to pacify you, removing your hand from his erection while you whine and grumble in response to the loss of touch, wanting him to mount you already.

He guides you onto the floor, laying you flat on the chilled concrete. The cold seeps into your clothes and skin, causing you to shiver almost uncomfortably so as you arch your back, spreading your legs as far as they'll go in your tight skirt. You take to palming your tits through your top, desperate for any kind of prolonged pleasure. 

"Someone's needy," he chuckles to himself while he looms over you, his broad shoulders casting a large shadow over your form.

"Come on, you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He moves to remove both of his belts, unbuckling them and letting them drop to the floor. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to leave himself so exposed, but neither of you could be bothered enough to care.

The next thing to come off was his shoulder holster, the leather straps meeting the other discarded materials on the floor. It's only after his confines are removed that he begins pleasuring himself, reveling in your position on the floor, legs spread deliciously while the rest of you becomes utterly debauched, your expression filled with nothing other than need and want.

You whine out a little, desperate for his touch even after the fact. He smirks while walking toward you, his heavy boots echoing throughout the room with loud thuds til he stops just short of your cunt and sneers. Something about him is different. 

He plants his foot atop your mound, grinding the sole into your folds. There's no real force behind it, but it's oppressive and demeaning. He's not the same Leon. The Leon who told dumb jokes at every opportune moment, who ate multicolored herbs, both raw eggs and fish WHOLE, yet looked at you as if you were the crazy one for refusing, choosing not to believe him when he said they'd "mend your wounds." This was not the same Leon who pulled you aside after you ran off scared, giving you words of reassurance and encouragement just as he had throughout this whole endeavor. No, this Leon was more sinister.

Your whines and mewls get a little more pathetic, rolling your hips and grinding yourself on his boot in a desperate attempt for any friction that he'd give you—which wasn't much, but still, anything was better than nothing!

In the midst of your pouting, you catch Saddler's eye. His expression is blank, almost as if he were watching paint dry. His attendants were dismissed by this point, as they had no need to witness the impregnation take place. You can't help but stare at him, his eyes oddly captivating, unable to help but wonder what he thinks of this. Surely he’s the one controlling you both, but is this a last effort of sorts? Making two "subjects" fuck like rabbits just for the sake of spreading his message, his word, and his so-called "vision" Was sex something that he looked down on? Something shameful?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Leon whistles at you. "Would you rather fuck him instead, princess?" He jeers in a mocking tone. You frown and furrow your brows, glaring at him as you deliver a bratty "no" in response.

"Then keep your eyes on me, yeah?" He sneers as he grinds his heel into you some more, swiping his foot from side to side, knocking the grooves into your clit. He laughs as you continuously mewl into the air, squeezing your tits through your clothes, begging for more attention. Instead of aiding you in your frustrated disposition, he decides to be a little crueler, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. His head lolls back as he lets out a soft groan, the sound causing more arousal to flood in between your legs.

You moan, your eyes scanning his features—the bob of his Adam's apple, the softness of his jaw, the way his teeth dig into the plush of his bottom lip.

Deciding to prod further, he pulls out his leaking cock from his pants, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you at the sight. He has an adorable ash-blonde happy trail running down his navel that fans into darker, coarse curls at the base of his cock. It has a slight left curve to it and a pretty pink tip. The look of it is tantalizing and mouth-watering. Your mind is flooded with every memory you’ve had of wanting Leon to fuck you silly during this godforsaken nightmare. Now you have a visual to go along with your many fantasies—a pretty cock for an equally pretty man.

You expected him to be in a hurry to fuck you, but he does something unexpected. He keeps his foot on your cunt. You attempt to sit up, your abdomen contracting as you begin to move upward, when he plants his boot on your chest instead, right on your sternum, effectively pushing you flat on your back again.

"Did I give you permission to move?" He stares, cocking his head and quirking a brow, looking down at you as if he were scolding a misbehaving puppy. His carmine irises meet yours as you attempt to shove off his foot by his ankle, though soon finding it pointless as the boot remains firm and steady against you.

You shake your head with a petulant "no," grumbling as his foot takes hold of your chest, pressing lightly on your rib cage, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

"Then don't get greedy," he chastises, moving his boot back to its previous position on your cunt, leaving a muddy footprint in its wake. Instead of providing you with the friction you wanted, his limb now lays idle against you.

You frown at the brown stain left on your top, glaring at him once more. "You ruined my shirt!"

"I'll tell you what: when this is all said and done, I'll get you a new top. How bout that princess?"

You roll your eyes, grumbling as his hand moves toward his mouth, yanking off his fingerless gloves with his teeth and tossing them among the pile of his other forgotten items.

Warm palms slither down his torso, making their way to his cock, where he squeezes the base, shaking it in the air a tad, teasing you with it.

It's well-known at this point how much you desire him. The plaga floods both of you with nothing but thoughts of you two fucking each other. He watches you eye his cock thoroughly, gnawing at your bottom lip with how badly you wanted him to fill you up.

He languidly begins to pump his hand up and down, precum leaking from his pretty tip all the way down his shaft, creating all the slip he needs. You start to buck your hips against his boot, desperate for your own pleasure, which he still refuses to give you. His hand continues to move along his cock; the rough callouses on his palm are a stark contrast to the glisten of his slick-covered dick.

You huff and puff as he continues to jerk off, growing tired of being teased and tormented. His thumb glides along the slit of his cock head, causing his hips to buck and shudder. You were like a rabbit on a treadmill, his cock being the carrot on the string you were being teased with, so close yet so far...

"Leon, you're being mean," you scowl, feeling grumpy and grouchy, tired of his damn games, your panties soaked through with your arousal, craving any sort of attention.

"Mean?" he asks, pressing his foot further into you, pumping himself a smidgen faster while his pectoral muscle begins to bounce with his quickened pace.

"If I were mean, I'd make you cum just like this while you watch me jack off."

"And since you want to act like such a little brat, maybe that's exactly what I'll do." He speeds up again, twirling his wrist as he fucks his fist, his grunts and groans filling the air among your whines.

"No, no, no, no," you cry, watching him buck into his hand as the slick makes his cock even more slippery.

A pink hue floods his cheeks as heat builds in his body, sweat gathering on the threads of his clothes.

"No?" he mocks with a feigned pout. "You want my cock that badly, huh? Want it to fill you up? Stuff you full?"

"Mhm," you nod incessantly, heat flooding your own face as well, the arousal so overwhelming that you feel as if you’ll burst.

"Why don't you beg for it? Beg for my cock."

You look at him apprehensively. Was he really gonna make you beg for him like a cock-hungry fool?

"I'm not joking about finishing you off with my boot. You'll get no dick and no cum." His efforts hastened, his hips twitching every so often. He’s serious, and so are you, so despite your "strong-willed bratty nature," you beg and you plead for his cock like a good girl.

"Please gimme your cock, Leon. Need it so bad. Need you to fuck me dumb; turn my brain into mush."

"I think you can do better than that princess," he smirks down at you, huffing slightly from the continued pleasure.

Your words turn into a slew of pleas and jumbled moans varying from saying you'll "die without his dick," "how badly you need it," and "how desperate you are for it," all of which boil down to you whining please over and over and over. When he's finally decided that you've made your case, he staves off his release, gripping the base of his cock so as not to finish right in his hand.

He drops to his knees, grabbing and pulling you towards him by your hips, your thighs settling on either side of his while he hovers over you. All his movements are quick and hasty in nature as he hikes up the bottom of your skirt over your pelvis, allowing you to spread your legs further and welcome him into the warmth between your thighs.

He stares down at your black tights below him, now transparent enough to see through to your pale-colored underwear from the fabric being stretched so far. He wastes no time in grabbing the crotch of your tights at the seam and effectively tearing a huge hole in them, his biceps bulging as he rips the fabric from your body. He stares down at the cute design of your panties as your tights lay in shreds against your leg, his eyes settling on the front of the fabric, the wet splotch soaking through from your previous orgasm.

He moves his hand over to your cunt, running his middle and ring fingers through your slit. He settles on your clit, rubbing the sticky fabric against you as he swirls the bundle of nerves in slow circles.

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm surprised that I held out as long as I did without fucking you."

"Leon," you groan. "No more… I wanna feel you, please," you mumble, reaching out to him as a final stand to get what you desperately crave.

He finally gives in, tugging down the waistband of his pants, landing on the swell of his thighs and below the curve of his ass, exposing the stretch marks that litter his hips and upper thighs.

"See something you like, princess?" he teases, pumping his cock a few times in preparation.

"Mhm, mhm," you nod eagerly as he begins to move toward you. Luckily, your panties are spared from his strength as he chooses to simply pull them aside instead of tearing them apart. He mumbles a grumbly "fuck" as he gets a look at your sweet cunt for the first time. The hair covering your mound shines as your arousal spreads throughout your folds. He doesn’t stop himself from running a finger in between the seam of your pussy, gathering the slick on the pad of his digit and sticking it in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your sweetness.

"Delicious," he mutters as he lays his cock against the warm heat of your sex, giving you a closer look at just how big he is.

He lines himself up at your entrance, and without so much as a warning, he thrusts into you down to the base. You arch into him, your breasts pressing into his chest as your back curves in his direction, a hearty moan coming from both of you. He stretches you out better than in your fantasies, your warm, wet walls clenching down on him as he twitches inside.

"Let's take care of this, yeah?" He asks, lifting your upper half into the air and placing you on your elbows. He lifts your top over the peak of your breasts, ogling the sight of your tits filling out your bra, trapped within their confinement, before he's reaching behind you to fumble with the clasp of the garment. A part of you is amused while watching him struggle, but it's not long after that the cups are falling from your body, your breasts free to Leon’s eyes and the open air as he pulls the straps down your shoulders, flinging the undergarment toward the pile of other forgotten items. He decides to keep your shirt on, enjoying the disheveled, fucked-out look you have with your clothes half on and half off, letting the top stay wrinkled above your tits.

"Perfect," he mumbles, moving his head toward your chest to mouth at it, planting open-mouth kisses along the swell of your breast as his hips begin to roll languidly. He gives you a few slow strokes, just to get acquainted with each other's bodies, before it quickly turns into a hurried fucking.

His hips knock into yours in quick succession, his girth smoothing over every ridge and groove in your tight cunt, leaving you panting into the air as he grunts and groans against your breast. His body pressed so tightly against yours.

His lips find your nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before pulling the nub into his mouth. The roll of his hips and the suckling of your nipple add to your growing pleasure. You buck your hips in tandem with his, desperate to feel every bit of pleasure you can.

"So greedy, huh, princess? Just need your cute cunt, fucked huh? Anything goes as long as you feel good, right?"

You whine, clenching down on him, squeezing his cock tight as he fucks you thoroughly. He pulls away from your chest, grabbing your hips tight in his grasp, his fingers digging deep into your skin.

"God, you’re perfect for me," he mumbles, leaning back so he's standing straight on his knees, his hands pulling you down on his cock as he brutally thrusts back into you. "So perfect for me to breed." You swear you can see a glint in his eyes as he says that, and your pussy pulsates around him even more.

"You like that, huh?" he teases, punctuating every word in the sentence with a brutal thrust. "You like the thought of being all mine? being claimed by me? Me fucking my kids into you? Knocking you up?"

You mewl and wail, nodding and gasping and heaving; the only thing you care about at this moment is him fucking you full of his seed.

The snap of his hips continues to get quicker, your soft breasts bouncing so pretty as you lay beneath him, your worn and fucked-out expression giving him nothing but joy. His rhythm gets so quick that he manages to slip out of your vice-like grip, causing a low and extended whine to draw out from your lips. He chuckles, enjoying how desperate you are for his body, and leans himself into you once more while he guides his cock back into you, his thrusts regaining their previous speed.

His hand pushes one of your thighs toward your chest, rolling his hips deeper so he can more easily hit the spot that makes your eyes cross, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he fucks into you with more vigor. You can’t stop your hands from wandering as you grab the plush of his ass, squeezing the fat while you writhe underneath him. You pant into his mouth, trying to signal him for a kiss, to which he happily obliges, meeting your lips with his as he continues to drive you further and further to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, princess?"

"Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?"

"Want it so bad, please?" You moan, sneaking your hand down to the front of your body and rubbing quick circles to your clit.

"Go ahead, princess, cum for me," he mumbles, nestling his head in the crux of your neck, sucking on your pulse point. As his hips continue to thrust into you, you arch intensely into him, moaning loudly as you reach your climax, your eyes rolling into the recesses of your mind as your nails claw into the meat of his ass, leaving pretty, red crescent-shaped divots in his porcelain skin.

You run your hand through his silky blonde strands as you position yourself next to his ear. "Cum with me, Leon," you mutter, still reeling from the aftereffects of your high, the additional thrusting adding to the lingering pleasure still felt. "Cum in me, please. Wanna be stuffed full of you." You lick a stripe up his neck, the salt from his sweat lingering on your tastebuds.

It's a few short and sloppy thrusts later that he's grunting loudly into your skin while he cums, ropes of his seed traveling to your womb.

The door can be heard shutting behind you as Saddler makes his exit, Leon's hips slowing to a full stop once he’s left. With the impregnation going through, he no longer needs to bother himself with whatever the two of you do from here on out.

It’s a few minutes later that the both of you begin to feel normal again, or as normal as you can be given the dire situation. It doesn’t take long for Leon to recover, his baby blues greeting you once more as he snaps to attention, getting himself situated as he puts on his gear and adjusts his clothes, keeping a watchful eye on you as you start to do the same, picking up your bra from his things on the floor.

After getting dressed, he’s immediately at your side. "I'm so sorry. I-"

You cut him off with a finger placed on his lips and a shake of your head. Your face is tired and weary, and your voice a little strained as you tell him, "It's alright."

He’s not willing to argue with you on the ethics of what went down, at least not here, so he decides to put off the conversation til you’re both safe back home, hopefully having figured out some sort of plan by then.

"Are you good enough to move? We shouldn't linger around."

You nod, moving to fully take off your tights before making your departure, seeing as you have no more use for the tattered fabric. The torn material catches his eye, causing embarrassment to rise throughout his face, his cheeks taking on the same rosy hue as before.

"I'll make good on my word, I promise. I’ll get you a new shirt and some tights when we get back. For now…"  He walks towards the exit. "We need to get rid of these damn things," he says, pointing to his chest. He checks his jammed gun, ejecting the magazine and resetting the casing before gesturing you over toward him, readying the weapon in front of him before the two of you begin to make your way out of the factory.

Needless to say, this would NOT be going in his incident report.

[dinsbeskar]

The Number of the Beast (Sauron/F!Reader)

After his frankly embarrassing defeat at Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Sauron seeks you out;

You discover his werewolf form and press him for the whole truth and nothing but

Sequel to Wicked Game // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Animals by Maroon 5, Closer by Nine Inch Nails (obviously Sauron's jam), Teeth by Lady Gaga

Special Mention to Home by Snow Ghosts, as recommended by @sansaorgana, immaculate vibes for this fic!!

Warnings: 18+! Werewolf!Sauron, smut (smh we cannot keep it clean for 5 minutes!!) werewolf sex (I'm sorry!! It's not a lot!! Idk!!!), P in V sex, oral sex (female receiving), dubcon (he is not in control of himself and even though you are up for it, you're still terrified of him and his uhhh size), size kink/size difference, hurt/comfort, manipulation (it's Sauron, he sucks guys idk), angst towards the end

A/N: y'know what, I warned you all this was going to happen. Sauron is a werewolf, and things get interesting weird. Idk I don't feel like it's overwhelmingly filthy, maybe y'all won't mind 😂🙈 there is actual plot to this one, and it will be fairly pertinent to the rest of the story, but you can skip the smut if it's not your cup of tea, I get it!! (Skip the section marked by ***)

Word Count: 4.9k!

Writing playlist here if so inclined 😅

Translation note: Amarië means 'goodness', Uthaessel means "tempting girl' as far as I can tell!

A nameless terror has been stalking your kin in these woods for years, and you are eager for your husband's embrace as you delve further into the woods, heart racing at every tiny rustle in the trees. He would never let anything happen to you, but he was not here, at least not as far as you could tell.

Usually when he drew close, you could feel a warmth deep in your soul, like embers stoked in a neglected fire, made to dance and blaze again with renewed vigour whenever he returned to you. But for the moment all you feel is an icy cold fear in the pit of your stomach; you should not be out here alone.

You think to turn back, to run back to the safety of your fledgling city, but you press on. He promised he would be here, and you cannot disappoint him, not after the long months he has spent in the north craving your touch.

The forest is so quiet as you make your way to the glade that has become so sacred to you and your husband. You keep as silent as you can, footsteps making no rustle in the leaves underfoot; the air is too still, the silence deafening where there should be sounds of birds and insects conducting their nightly business.

You are not far from your meeting place now as even the wind falls still. You breathe a sigh of relief as you catch sight of the rushing water that will lead you to safety. He will be there to assuage all your silly fears, the thought giving you the strength to keep moving.

A sharp howl, long and guttural, pierces the air, and you freeze. It sounded far off, or maybe closer than you think; your head is in a spin as you try to judge what could have possibly made such an unearthly sound. It didn't sound like any wolf you've ever heard; it had an almost sorrowful lilt that drew you to it. Shaking it off, you creep into the glade, expecting to see him there.

Disappointment washes through you; you are alone, and now you hear another howl, closer than before.

He will understand, you think, let's go home.

You start to take the winding path back to the thick treeline, but hear cracking branches, heavy footfall, ragged breath, from the dark undergrowth.

You back up, starting to shake and sweat. You are not made for this, never have you had to protect yourself from such a beast. You look around for anything with which to defend yourself, landing on a large broken branch that looks like it might be lethal in the right hands. Shame then, that your hands have never seen combat.

Dragging your makeshift weapon, you look for somewhere to hide, terrified that the beast might have already caught your scent.

~

He doesn't know why he's here, why he would put you through the horror of seeing him in his bestial glory; all he knows is that defeat has pushed him into your radiant embrace, to soothe the heavy losses he had suffered and prepare the fortitude of his mind to face his master's wrath.

His defeat at the hands of some Elf-Maia and her dog had shamed him; he could not go back to Angband now, not now Tol-in-Gaurhoth was lost, and all he craved was your touch, for you to wash away all his ills.

He pads through the forest, trailing a silent darkness in his wake, all birds and beasts fleeing before him. His black blood drips and pools in the undergrowth, scorching the earth.

His mind is clouded with pain and shame, something with which he is not familiar, and would not suffer again given the option, how it turns his stomach, and makes him crave nothing but your sweet embrace. Where are you? He can think of nothing else, having travelled so far in search of salvation.

The breeze betrays you, carrying the sweet scent of the berries you love to eat, the oils you use on your skin, and he groans, a deep visceral sound that would usually shake the foundations of Middle Earth, if only he were not so deeply tired.

He follows your scent, instinctively, unthinking as to how you might receive him. As he gets closer, his soul sings for you, his heart swells, and he can think of nothing else.

Exhausted, he reaches out to you, tendrils of his mind softly caressing yours. He hears your soft sigh and follows the sweet sound to your doom.

~

The forest around you turns deathly silent, the very air robbed of its oxygen in a split second. You hear only the crack of fallen branches and the heavy movement of something massive in the dark.

You should be terrified, why do you not run?

Quaking in your hiding spot, you find yourself rooted to the spot, crouching and unable to move, doomed to listen to the beast in the dark.

You feel it then; a darkness in your mind, touching your thoughts, and the terror grows. The scent of sweat dripping down your back only helps him find you sooner, and as you hear him approach, the tremor in your fingers grows.

If you can only stay quiet, perhaps it will ignore you, perhaps you will be blessed tonight. You screw your eyes shut and pray.

Alas, a hot huff of breath sweeps the side of your face, and you scream, you can't help but keep screaming, even after you've picked up your weapon and blindly struck the great beast, before you roll out from under it and run as fast as your legs can carry you.

He shakes his head, blind rage now overtaking him, even as he sees you, scents you, wants nothing more than to cover and embrace you.

The pair of you race through the forest; you know it as well as any of your people, all the shortcuts and secret places. But your quick light tread is vastly outmatched by his sheer ferocity, and in your panic, you take a wrong turn, meeting a sharp cliff face where you were sure there was a waterfall you might have lost the beast in. You curse your folly and spin around, awaiting your fate.

Two great paws come to rest either side of you, as its wolven face bears its teeth and snarls, black blood dripping from the gash you inflicted on its temple.

You can do nothing but shut your eyes, shaking in terror as the beast takes you in, sniffing at you and panting. Any moment now, this will all be over...

Amarië... love... need you...

The unspoken voice you hear is somehow familiar, deeper and more guttural, and yet...

You reach out your hand, offering your soothing touch freely. Baleful golden eyes watch you carefully as he closes the gap and leans in to your trembling touch. You should run.

"Mairon..." The beast's eyes soften as you look up at him, and you realise a terrible sorcery is at play here.

You feel his mind caress yours and you relax, easing into the unfamiliar feeling of fur beneath your fingers. You trace the sinewy muscle of his neck a while, assuring him in hushed tones that you've got him, that everything will be alright, that you're here, his horrors are over.

"Oh, my love..." You run your fingers over him, suddenly mindful of the wound you'd inflicted yourself only moments ago.

In your inspection, you find many more, deep gouges and bitemarks that have festered, and your heart aches for him. How could this have happened? Who did this to him?

"Come, love, I have you now," you grasp his fur on his neck and lead him back to the river, careful not to touch the open sores in his sides yet.

He staggers into the rushing current, clear water turning black as he submerges, washing off his defeat and returning little by little to you.

You wade in after him, ripping a strip off your hem; how times had changed since last you did this for him, having now ruined two dresses to tend his wounds.

You soak the fabric and begin to dab away the grime and viscera, so that you can start to heal him with every spell your people know for such injuries.

It doesn't take long before his whines of pain become pleasurable, enjoying your touch and the cool water on his skin. His mind is less fraught now, more present, and before long he begins to panic. His sweet wife, his innocent wife, had seen him for what he truly is, a Lord of Beasts, monstrous and terrifying to behold, and here she was, running her gentle fingers over him as if he was the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen.

You notice his panic and immediately go to soothe him, rubbing circles over his muzzle, trying not to overthink just how strange the situation had become.

"It's okay, love, I'm here, you're okay," you whisper softly, "who did this to you, love?"

Trying to soothe him was proving difficult as anger begins to bubble in the pit of your stomach; who was responsible for this sorcery? You would rip them limb from limb, your gentle nature be damned.

That blasted Elf-Maia hybrid and her brute of a dog, he thinks bitterly, reliving his utter defeat once more.

"My darling, you can tell me, who did this to you? Transformed you this way?" Surely it was a curse that could be broken, that you could face together.

Oh. Oh, no. His blood runs cold. Yes, of course, that's what you mean; how were you to know he could transform himself at will, that this was a form he liked to take in battle. Used to like. It might be a while before he chose a wolfish form again, given everything that had happened with Lúthien.

He goes to stand, to leave the river and avoid your questioning, but his legs give out from under him. Your heart wrenches at the sight of your beloved suffering so, how it pained you.

"I have you, don't move yet," you say softly with an encouraging smile. "I've got you."

More murmuring in Quenya, pressing your hands to his wounds, feeling your energy flow into him, all of your efforts were enough to finally restore him, and you both emerge from the river into the cool night air, sodden and freezing.

He collapses on the river bank, with you quick to follow; your healing had taken a lot out of you. Shivering, you lean into him for his furnace-like warmth, blessedly finding him already nearly dry.

You're so tired, your questions can wait until after you've rested, and so you do.

~

It is still hours before dawn when you wake to the unfamiliar sensation of warm silky fur on your cheek, lining your body, encompassing you in a blissful heat.

Fear jolts any sleepiness from your mind, and you try to stand. But his great limbs keep you from moving, and he rumbles his disapproval deep in his chest.

Suddenly you remember.

"Mairon?" You whisper, "darling, how do you feel?"

I was fine. His words are still unspoken, heard directly in your mind.

"Was? Can I help, love?" You worry that your work is not done, that perhaps there are ills that you have not yet healed.

Go back to sleep, your presence is soothing, my sweet.

"I can soothe you while awake!" Your tone is indignant and his chest quakes with what sounds like laughter, if you're not mistaken.

I didn't say you could not, but now you're awake, there are other urges I'd rather have you satisfy, Uthaessel.

Other urges... you blush as you realise what he means. He only calls you by that epithet when he craves you so particularly, that nothing else might sate him but hours between your thighs. 'Temptation', indeed.

"Well, you've recovered quickly." You laugh, brushing his side and finding his gaping wounds already healed over.

"And while you're like this, my darling, I'm not quite sure how that would work." You do have an idea, but it might be... uncomfortable.

He groans, deep in his chest, making your whole body vibrate with it; maybe a little discomfort wouldn't be so bad?

I have many ideas, precious one, all you need to do is lie there and relax for me...

He rolls you over, encircling you wholly with his powerful frame. He is so massive that he dwarfs you twice, thrice over. You look down and your eyes widen, blood rushing to your cheeks; how is that going to fit?

In an effort to slow him down, you ask him again, "how did this happen, love? You couldn't tell me before, would you tell me now?"

He sighs, a massive huff of breath that seems to scold you for disrupting his conquest of you.

It is no curse, that much you do not have to fear.

"If it is no curse, then what happened? Love, this is hardly natural, unless I am missing something important?" You laugh a little, nervously, wishing for him to assuage your anxiety.

He simply stares down at you with those bottomless golden eyes, concocting some explanation that will appease you.

How would you react, he wonders, if he told you he told you he is in fact Lord of Beasts and Werewolves, able to take on any form he wishes? Or would you prefer a simple lie, or the wiping of it from your mind altogether?

You are his wife, you are bound together in a way no force can sunder, you could not reject him if you tried. But he fears your disgust, would do anything to avoid it.

But the truth would set him free. No more lies, no more deception, he could truly be himself with you. The freedom that would afford, the burdens he would no longer have to carry alone.

So for once, he settles on the truth, mostly.

This is simply one of the forms I can take. You know I am no Elf, I can do things your kind could only dream of.

He nuzzles your neck, licking a long stripe up the sensitive flesh between your ear and your collarbone.

"I know that," you whimper, his rough tongue laving your throat, making your toes curl into the dirt. "But this is new, this is-" a whine escapes your lips as he nips at your neck- "unnatural."

You feel his song in the depths of your soul, how sweetly he pines for you. Your soul cannot help but answer, harmonising with his every touch, until you are squirming under his iron embrace, pupils blown, arousal overtaking you quicker than it ever has before.

*******

His massive limbs cage you in, and panic begins to set in again; surely your husband would never hurt you, but in this state you weren't sure he had the control to keep his nature at bay.

"I need to know-" You brace against him, trying with all your might to release yourself from his roaming tongue, rasping over your skin; sharp teeth snared in your dress pull in one fluid motion and you're left bare under his gaze.

Need to know what, my pet? His tone is adoring as ever, but impatient; he knows what plagues your thoughts and he still isn't sure he wants you to know.

"Need to know... need to know who you are." You force out the words as he seeks out where to lick, where to bite, trying to swallow your pleas; he cocks his head, as if your question is a mystery.

You know who I am, love. His length begins to prod at you insistently, and you clench your thighs together, nervous at the thought of him claiming you like this, stalling for time even as the melody of his fëa seduces you.

"No... no, I don't think I do," You pant, fingers clutching at his neck, drawing him in and pulling him away, your body betraying your mind as you become more and more unsure of what you want from him.

"How? How can you change your face like that? Your entire being? I don't understand..." You trail off with a whine as he begins to worship your body with his tongue, covering your breasts with a swipe, dragging slowly lower until he finds your mound, gods you smell divine.

The bestial part of his mind begins to take over, ignoring your questioning, wrapped in the scent of you, the soft flesh under his tongue that he could so easily ruin with a drag of his teeth if he desired, your panting lips forming words that fall on deaf ears; the only sounds he now listens for are your moans and pleas.

"Mairon... I need to know..." You realise far too late that this is no longer your husband, and that the beast before you is going to rut you into the earth without pity.

Terror grips you, hand in hand with arousal, and the fresh wetness between your legs spurs him on, groaning at the scent of you, all he can think of as you writhe beneath him. You try to get a better look at the flesh that is about to ravage you, but it is hidden in his fur. Perhaps that is for the best, you muse, far-off in your thoughts now, waiting for him to ruin you.

He sniffs at the dampness between your thighs, a groan rumbling through him as he bears his sharp canines, dangerous and gleaming even in the dark of the night; perhaps especially so. Even with the forest at your fingertips, all you can smell is him, musk and smoke and iron, he smells like himself but stronger, every inch of him reeking of the man you love but more pungent, inescapable; a heady mix that does nothing to dispel the coil in your abdomen that he will delight to spring.

"My love, darling, please, Mairon..." you try every which way to get his attention, to bring him back to you.

You shiver as he laps at you, tasting you every which way, your nipples peaking as he runs his tongue over them before letting them chill in the night's cool breeze. He lowers himself slightly to wrap himself around you more completely, your soft skin now pressed against his thick fur, the perfect companion to stave off the chill.

You feel him pant against your neck, his thick length weeping against your legs, firmly pressed shut as you rock slightly to relieve the terrible pressure he has built in your clit.

You bury your face in the green foliage under your head, still pressing your thighs together as if he will yet be denied. He noses at your jaw, demanding your attention; pressing his long teeth against your throat, demanding your obedience.

The inhuman face gazing down on you does nothing to dispel the visceral fear that grips you. This is your husband, the man you love, whose soul you share; but none of this seems to matter now, as empty golden eyes stare you down, awaiting the inevitable.

Tears of fear begin to fall unbidden as your heart hammers in your chest, as you realise that despite every instinct in you telling you to run, you still want him, and he knows it.

The second you loosen your thigh muscles, he is there with his tongue, licking and sucking and making your toes curl. He is too rough, too fast, and before long a tiny nip at your clit sends stars behind your eyes, warmth exploding and cascading through you.

With you distracted at your peak, he takes his opportunity.

Hot breath on your face, soft fur under your fingers, giving you purchase, grounding you, a white hot pain at your mound-

Your scream echoes through the forest as he buries himself within you, no gentleness, just brutal force.

He allows you a moment to accommodate him, but it would take many more to truly adjust to his monstrous size. He pulls back, your tiny sigh of relief cut short as he thrusts back in, deeper, longer, stroking every inch of you.

You feel a tendril of his mind caress yours, and you reach for it, cling to it, make his power your own as you channel every intelligible thought into not being spilt apart.

As his power and your healing magic do their work, the blazing pain lessens, relieved to a dull ache, that only invites him to do his worst.

He would tear you apart, put you back together, over and over if he could. As he reaches the height of his pleasure, he is merciless, rutting you like a mindless animal, emptying and filling you quicker than you can draw breath, gasping around the sheer inhuman size of him.

And you enjoy it.

As the pain recedes, all you can think is of his cock filling you over and over, tongue rasping everywhere he can reach, guttural groans punctuating every thrust, as you drag your nails down his forearms, desperate to ground yourself in any sensation not emanating from your heated core.

With an unearthly growl, his thick hot seed paints your insides, filling you to bursting, and the coil in your abdomen does indeed spring again; as he comes down from his own high, his mind returns to him piece by piece, and he realises what he has put you through. You quake around him, whimpering and clinging to him, nails deep in his heavily muscled back.

He licks the tears from your face gently, still engulfed in your wet heat, unwilling to be parted just yet. He rears up to get a look at how well you take him, to see how you stretch and mould for him.

That is all he wants after all, for you to be moulded by him, for him.

He nuzzles your neck as you lie exhausted underneath him.

Love... precious girl... my Uthaessel... did so well for me...

You give him a sleepy smile, idly running your fingers through the fur on his chest, suddenly overcome with the urge to sleep for a week.

When he can, he slips out of you, curling you into his side, as his seed drips between your thighs. He'll clean you up later, he thinks, but perhaps for now he'll just watch you sleep.

*******

When you wake, he has already transformed himself, smooth skin and golden hair that you love so much, but your sticky thighs remind you uncomfortably of what happened last night.

You crane your neck to look at him, to assure yourself it is really him. He gives you that same gentle adoring smile he always does; your heart melts as you can't help but return it, but your questions still plague you. He had never told you he could take the guise of a beast, and you worry that something wicked lies under that glorious visage.

"Mairon..." You try to keep your tone neutral, but he knows your heart too well.

"I know, love," he gathers you to him, resting his chin on your head. "Can we not? At least for now."

You do wonder whether to indulge him, but the suspicions gnawing at your gut will not cease.

"I want to know... I need to know what happened."

You expect him to fight you on it tooth and nail, but he vowed to himself last night, the truth would out. Mostly.

And so he tells you. His humiliation at the hands of Lúthien and Huan, his command over beasts and vampires, even where he really comes from. Your eyes widen and your breath shallows with each detail, reaching a crescendo as he tells you of Morgoth, his voice low as if his master could hear him even here.

"A servant of Morgoth?" You can't catch your breath, you've long stood up, pacing and wringing your hands more urgently the longer you let him speak.

"Why are you telling me this?" You stop still and ask sharply, making him wince at the tone you've never used on him before.

"You asked, my love," he looks confused, as if the truth weren't more horrifying than your husband simply liking to spend time in wolf's clothing.

"But why are you telling me now? You could have continued your vile deception? Kept me in the dark?" Your stomach drops as you wonder aloud his intentions.

"You've had everything you wanted from me, that must be it. And now you tell me you are a servant of the Enemy-" your thoughts are interrupted as he now stands and moves to take your hands in his.

A churning fear overtakes your anger as you realise he is the one your people only speak of in hushed whispers, his very name accursed to the tongue: Sauron.

"You... you are the terror my people fear in these woods. You have plagued them, stolen them, and then you come to me and ply me with your sweetness and lies?"

"You misjudge me, my love. I will never stop wanting you," he implores, as he takes your face in his hand, willing you to be silent and listen.

"My appetite for you will never be sated, such is my devotion. I could never cast you aside, could never let you leave me." He sounds so damn sincere, your heart pleads with you to listen while your head tells you to run.

"You wanted the truth, so I gave it to you. If I did not think you could handle it, I would not have troubled you with such evils." His eyes search yours for any sign you understand his plight. "I told you my name, I never lied to you. But I could not tell you about Melkor in the beginning, how could I, when you would have scorned me?"

"You don't know that," you mutter, still shell-shocked, world in pieces, but offended by the accusation all the same.

"If this is your reaction, then I am sure you would."

"Are you blaming me? Lies by omission are still lies!" Your indignation stirs you a little, your mind screaming at you to fight back.

He does you the courtesy to look mollified slightly, before grasping your hands once more, tracing circles in your palm with his thumb.

"Amarië, my sweet, even your name is too good for me, how could I have won you if you had known the company I am forced to keep?"

It's that imploring look, the gentle tone, and-

"Forced? What do you mean, forced?" Even in your shell-shocked anger, the notion of your husband forced to do anything hurts you deeply.

"I hardly serve Him willingly, my love, no one does. His will is..." he searches for the right word, the word that will convince you, "insurmountable."

You take a deep breath through your nose, finding nothing in your mind but the sweet scent of smoke and musk and iron, the scent of your husband that softens your heart once more.

Your deep exhale releases much of the tension within you; of course, he is but an unwilling participant in Morgoth's designs, of course.

"This is your one chance, Mairon, you have one chance to tell me everything, no lies, no deceit." You raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to argue, but he simply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I have done, love, you know everything."

"No. Details, and lots of them, now."

It takes from sunrise to sunset, but he tells you everything. How Morgoth seduced him to his will; how He alone has the power to change Middle Earth in the way your lover has planned; how Sauron realised far too late that His destruction was not the balance he craved.

"And you cannot leave Him?" Your voice is hoarse after so much time spent listening, but you have to ask.

Sauron grimaces, an expression that twists his pretty face, makes it almost unrecognisable.

"One does not simply leave Melkor's service." His tongue picks over the words carefully, watching for your reaction.

"Morgoth." You interject, "his name is Morgoth." After all the heartbreak and destruction He has wrought on your kind, you cannot stand to hear his divine name spoken once more.

"Forgive me, love, it is... difficult to break the habit when He himself would flay me for even thinking the name your people have given him." He cannot help but smirk a moment when your face drops, and you reach for him as if to comfort him.

He takes you in his golden embrace, holding you tightly as if you'd leave him the moment you were free.

"I was so afeared that you would reject my affections, I could not possibly tell you, and as time passed, I could not bear to ruin what we share." He nuzzles your neck affectionately, as if he has already won you over.

You are so torn, your heart and head fighting a losing battle. If he truly is an unwilling accomplice, then he needs you now more than ever to face the darkness. But the darkness was a terror you never planned on witnessing in all its treachery.

It is a long time before you can forgive his lies, but the truth will indeed set you both free.

[hyperobsessedd]

Quick little joost x reader drabble because i can’t be asked to write a whole paragraph.(I wrote WAYYYYY more than a paragraph oops)

a/n: after many edits were finally here

cw : mentions of alcohol and some cussing

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

I think joost x reader who is trying to learn dutch would be so cute. You had been wanting to learn ever since you moved to the Netherlands but never got around to, you had to many responsibilities at work and outside of work. You did the occasional duolingo but the only phrase you learned how to say was ik ben een kind (I am a child) a phrase that obviously didn’t apply to you. For the most part you got around speaking English but even then communicating with the locals could be kinda difficult.

Meeting joost was probably the turning point in your reluctance to learn Dutch. It’s not like you started taking a Dutch course immediately after meeting him but talking to him really made you feel like taking one. When y’all were still in the talking stage he would always sprinkle in light Dutch words/phrases like schatje, liefje, mijn liefste. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just a term of endearment” he would always say when you tried to inquire about said words. Guessing that he would most likely never tell you what the words meant you took matters into your own hands.

Spending hours studying/learning Dutch wasn’t over some silly pet names wasnt exactly what you thought you would be doing when you first met joost but as they say love makes you do crazy things. As the weeks progressed you could fell that your Dutch skills were getting better (writing and reading specifically). You could now (for the most part) understand what joost was saying to you irl and over text.

He had initially invited you over to his apartment to have dinner and a movie but the possibility of watching said movie was very very slim. You guys talked and talked while eating, continued chatting while sipping on some wine, and even now in your almost comatose state the both of you continue to babble on (gaga reference) about whatever came to mind.

“You know what liefste” you chuckled at the mention of the silly little pet name. “What, why are laughing” his head turned towards your direction, the pout very obvious on his flushed face

“Just the nickname ‘s all” you slurred out, the alcohol seemed to kicked in

“And you’re sure that you aren’t laughing at me”

“Why would I laugh at you? I’m also drunk and I think you look cute like this” you said before giving him a small boop on the nose

“You think I’m cute?” His eyes light up upon hearing your words

“Of course I do, just like how you think I’m cute”

“I never told you the you were cute” he sat back on the couch trying to think about his past actions

“Do you think I don’t know what liefste and schatje mean” his eyes widened at the mention of the nicknames

“I thought you didn’t know Dutch” he looked deep in thought as if trying to recall things you had told him in the past

“Well I may have started learning it for a certain someone” you tried to hint at him hoping that he wasn’t too drunk to understand

“Oh really, is he nice” he played along speaking equally as vague as you were

“He’s a bit cocky sometimes but his pretty face makes up for it” you got closer to him until you were staring into each other’s eyes

“Really”

“Really”

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Notes and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open

[lemoncrushh]

You And I

Summary: Alyssa always wanted Harry, so every time he called, she was there waiting for him at the bar. But one night, things shifted between them.

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), maybe a little angst. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 4.5k+

A/N: Originally written and posted in 2019. Harry x OC, AU, written in first person. Loosely inspired by the Lady Gaga song (not the 1D song lol).

He’d told me to wait for him at the bar. I sat at the corner, nursing a gin and tonic while the band broke down their equipment. I laughed when Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” began playing through the speakers, the line about the old man making love to his tonic and gin poignantly accentuating the scene.

“Fitting, yeah?” chuckled Bruno, the bartender I’d come to know well over the last few months.

I sneered at him as I stirred the little straw in my glass. “I dunno. I was thinking more along the lines of Lady Gaga.”

“Gaga?” Bruno raised a brow.

“Y’know. At the corner of the bar with my high heels on.”

Bruno’s shoulders shook with laughter as he wiped down the bar in front of me. “I’ll put that one on next, darling.”

“Put what on next?” I heard a voice call behind me.

I twisted around on my stool to see Harry stepping off the stage, an easy grin on his handsome face. I returned the smile, happy to get a better look at him. For the first time, the band had opted to wear makeup, something I’d urged them to try before but had never happened.

“You and I,” I teased, swinging one leg over the other. “The Gaga song.”

“Hmm,” he sounded as he approached me. Reaching his hand out, he cupped my chin, lifting it slightly before placing a soft kiss on my painted lips.

“I reckon when it comes to you and I, there will be no putting on…” he paused, a smirk causing his dimple to appear in his left cheek. “Only taking off.”

“Oh Styles, but you do have a way with words,” I quipped in a playful, faux accent.

He let out a giggle then, apparently amused by his own joke. He gave me one more kiss before tapping his hand on the bar.

“Bruno,” he said. “One more shot for the road?”

“Long as you ain’t driving, love!”

Harry eyed me, no doubt silently questioning how many drinks I’d had. In the two hours I’d been at the bar, I’d only had two drinks including the current half-drunk one in front of me. I’d watched Harry and his bandmates drink at least twice as much during their set, in addition to shots that fans in the audience had sent up.

“I’m good,” I reassured him. I was his drive home anyway. It was kind of understood.

With a nod, Bruno poured Harry a shot of dark golden liquid. Taking it in his hand, Harry clinked the glass against mine and downed it in one gulp. Lowering the glass, he smirked again when he caught me staring at him.

“Wha’?” he asked.

“Just looking at you,” I replied. “You look good with eyeliner.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Kinda sexy, actually.”

“You think?” Harry stepped closer to me, loving the attention.

“Indeed,” I continued. Then when Bruno came around and took Harry’s empty glass, I asked him. “Bruno, don’t you think Harry looks sexy with eyeliner?”

“Of course, doll!” he agreed. “Sexy AF!”

I threw my head back laughing and Harry gave Bruno a wink. “Thanks, love.”

“Sing us a song, you’re the piano man!”

At the sound of singing, I turned around again to see Jeremiah, Harry’s drummer walking towards us. The youngest member of the band, he looked so much like Pete Wentz, especially tonight with the black eyeliner.

“All packed up, H!” he told Harry. “Ready to go?”

“Um...no…” Harry tilted his head to gesture towards me. “Alyssa’s here.”

Jeremiah looked from his bandmate to me and then back, the lightbulb going off in his head.

“Oh! Yeah! Right! Sorry, mate! I’ll just…” he pointed behind him, “head out. Good to see you, Alyssa.”

“You too, hon,” I smiled. “You were smashing it tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jeremiah beamed. Then with one last wave, he stumbled over his own feet and left the way he’d come. I giggled at his adorable awkwardness, blaming it on his youth.

Swiveling back to face Harry and Bruno, I took the last few sips of my cocktail which was mostly water by then. The first chords of “You and I” started then, and I lifted my gaze to the bartender who danced with glee.

“It has been a long time since you came around,” Harry quoted the lyrics as he slid his arm around my waist.

“Two weeks, Harry,” I chuckled. “I was sat right here at this bar two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks is a long time t’me,” he murmured, his lips finding the tender spot behind my ear. I giggled softly at the touch which sent goose flesh across my skin.

“I doubt that’s the time frame Gaga was referring to,” I said wryly. “Besides, you want me around more often, perhaps you should ring or text me.”

I heard Bruno make a muffled sound of shock from behind the bar as Harry’s mouth stalled on my neck.

“I reckon I should do that,” admitted Harry.

He stood up straight then, his eyes on mine as I gave him an accusing glare. It wasn’t that I really doubted he wanted me around. But sometimes I needed that reassurance.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he said, though his words were interrupted a bit by the noise of two more lads approaching.

“Alyssa! You made it!” shouted Gavin, the band’s guitarist.

I rose from my stool and hugged both him and Max, the bassist. Two females soon followed, and I noticed the one whom I didn’t recognise wrapped her arms around Max.

“I’m so glad you went with the eyeliner tonight,” I commented. “I don’t suspect you’ll allow me to take the credit.”

Gavin grinned, “Of course, darling, it was your idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” Harry jabbed.

I turned and poked him in the ribs. “Yes it was. Let me have my moment.”

He threw his head back laughing before pulling me to him in a bear hug. I could tell he was drunk, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the sweat beneath his shirt, but I didn’t mind. Some of our most fun times were when we could tease each other like this. Still, sometimes I did wish he would just be honest and tell me how he felt about me, rather than always being light-hearted and funny.

Gavin, Max and the girls all got beers from Bruno before he closed up the bar. We all sat and chatted for a bit before saying our goodbyes. Then with a look - that unspoken understanding - Harry stepped off his stool, reached for my hand and followed me out to my car.

“You’re different tonight,” he finally said after a long stretch of silence except for the 90s playlist I had going.

I raised a brow as I stopped at a red light. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno. You just...are.”

I eyed him and then turned back to the road. “I got a new lipstick.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “‘s not that. You just...seem different.”

The light changed and I accelerated, my heartbeat doing the same.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t understand. I’m still me.”

I heard Harry hum, perhaps in agreement. He was quiet again while the music changed from Alanis Morissette to Pearl Jam. I wondered what he meant exactly, though part of me had my own suspicions. Then when I was nearly a block from my flat, Harry reached over and turned down the radio, muting the voice of Eddie Vedder.

“Are we okay?” he asked me.

I stopped myself from giggling, something I sometimes tend to do when I’m anxious or nervous. Instead, I bit my lip and let his question roll around in my head. I pulled up to my building and parked before I finally let out a tiny laugh.

“We’re always okay, Harry,” I said with a grin.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, I opened my car door and stepped out. I half wondered if Harry would actually follow, but as I stepped onto the sidewalk, I heard the slam of the passenger door. Meeting me at the curb, he took my hand and walked with me up the stairs to my flat.

“I don’t have whiskey,” I called after I’d tossed my keys on the table and made my way to the kitchen. “But I have vodka and wine.”

“None for me, thanks,” I heard Harry reply.

“What?” I turned around, my eyes wide. Harry always wanted a nightcap.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Oh.” Now he was the one who seemed different.

“Did something happen, Alyssa?”

Taken aback, I paused a moment and shook my head. “Something...like what? When?”

“Since I saw you last,” replied Harry.

I turned from him, pretending to walk to the refrigerator. Then I changed my mind and took a glass down from the cupboard and poured myself water from the tap.

“Lots of things happen in two weeks, love,” I commented. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

Setting my untouched glass on the counter, I looked back at him. His face was expressionless, though his eyes seemed to reveal a bit more. Perhaps it was the makeup. No wonder they call the look “emo”.

“Tell me,” Harry said softly.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” I accused.

He stared at me blankly. “Yeah, baby.”

I snorted. “So, I’m baby now?”

“Alyssa…”

Ignoring the tone of his voice, I sighed and looked away.

“Let’s see…” I began. “I’ve been working a lot. Visited my mum last Saturday. Got my nails done. And bought the new lipstick like I mentioned...oh and I got a new succulent, see?” I reached for my newest addition to my cactus collection to show him. “I’ve named this one Prince because he has a bit of a purple hue to him-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted.

I stared at him, frozen. “Sorry? For what?”

Harry stepped closer to me, taking Prince from my hands and setting it on the counter. “I’m sorry I waited two weeks to ring you.”

“Oh.” I blinked.

Sliding his hands around my waist, he pulled me to him. Tilting his head, he pressed his lips to mine, softly at first. When I responded with my hands sliding up his shoulders, he kissed me harder, with purpose.

“I do like the new lipstick,” he murmured against my lips. I grinned when I noticed some of it had rubbed off onto him.

“You have such pretty lips,” he added, his eyes focused on my mouth. “First thing I wanna do when I see you is kiss them.”

I smiled at his comment, not just from flattery but because I’d always felt the same about his.

“I also meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “So do you.”

Harry grinned then, a sexy smirk. “You like the eyeliner, yeah?”

“I really do,” I nodded. “I think you should wear it more often.”

“I will if you come ‘round more often.”

“You have to ring me, Styles,” I reminded him. “I have a life, you know. As much as you may like to think otherwise, I don’t keep up with your schedule.”

“Maybe I should give it to you,” Harry said, his voice deep with no trace of humour as his hands roamed down to my bum. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“My schedule, I mean,” he added with his own chuckle. “God, woman, what are you doing to me?”

“Me?” I raised a brow.

“Yes, you. You get me all flustered, I dunno what I’m saying.”

“I’m just stood here, Harry.”

“That’s enough.”

I studied his face, trying my best to read his eyes. The green seemed more defined with the black liner, and for a split second I felt my stomach flip. I lifted my hand to touch a curl that had fallen across his forehead and heard him release a breath.

The man was definitely a mystery. For months I’d shown up here or there to see his band play. In between we might’ve had a few dates, but I never felt like what we had was anything serious. We always ended up shagging, and it wasn’t like I regretted it. We definitely had that chemistry, and we were good in bed. But I didn’t think he considered me his girlfriend; I didn’t think he considered me at all. At least, not until he was ready to see me again. And like always, I would be there when he wanted, because I really liked him.

But then he’d turn around and say something like this and I’d get all kinds of confused.

As it was, I had a hard time concentrating myself with his hands on my rear end. His lined eyes kept shifting between my own eyes and my mouth, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me again. This time, however, I was the one to give in, reaching for his neck and pulling him to me.

“Mmm, baby…” he moaned against my lips. He’d called me baby a handful of times before, but it never really meant much to me like it did now. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was...perhaps I was wanting him to feel what I felt. Or just...something.

I let my fingers linger on his chest before I began to unbutton his shirt. I knew where this was headed, but I wasn’t about to stop it. Feelings or no feelings, I wanted him in my bed again.

When I reached the bottom button, our lips broke free and Harry stared at me once again, his eyes now full of desire. At least I had a knack for reading that. Just like in the pub, I took his hand with an unspoken understanding and we walked down the hall to my bedroom.

“You got new sheets,” Harry commented.

I cringed, not sure if I was more embarrassed that I’d left my bed unmade or that he’d been there enough times to notice the sheets were different. Nervously I straightened the pillows before reaching behind me to unzip my dress.

“Let me,” I heard Harry say.

He strode across the room to me, his fingers on the zipper before I could protest. When my dress fell off my shoulders, his hands took its place, pushing it down the rest of the way. I felt the chills down to my toes as I stepped out of my heels and turned to face him.

I reckon I expected him to gawk at me some more like he’d been doing all evening, so I was completely surprised when his mouth crashed into mine. I immediately wound my arms around his neck and he lifted me up and onto the bed. He continued his assault on my mouth while his fingers tangled in my hair at the sides of my head. I could feel his erection through his jeans, the friction a fabulous sensation between my legs. Bending my knees, I lifted my hips slightly as I let out a gasp, the feeling of denim on cotton nearly too much for me.

Harry paused the snogging long enough to sit up and loop his fingers through the sides of my knickers. He looked at my face as he bit his lip. I wondered for a second if he was changing his mind, as this was usually not a part of the scenario where he’d stop.

“Something wrong?” I dare asked.

“Do you want me, Alyssa?”

My immediate reaction was more confusion. He’d never asked me that before. Sure, he’d moaned in my ear or against my mouth on more than one occasion that he wanted me. But he’d never asked if I wanted him. My expression softened and I gave him a smile.

“I always want you, Harry.”

With the tiniest grin and a nod, he pulled my panties down and let them fall on the floor. Then stood at the edge of the bed, he began to remove his own pants. I reached over to the bedside table then where I kept the condoms and pulled one out of the drawer.

“I promise I’ll bring my own next time,” I heard him say.

Lying on my back, I watched him crawl up the bed again.

“Next time?” I couldn’t help but razz him. The first time he’d stayed over, he didn’t have protection, but I did. I reckon after that it was just assumed.

“Yeah…” he lowered his face to mine. “Next time, love. I promise.”

He kissed me softly then, the softest kiss ever. He continued with a second on my chin, a third on my neck, a fourth on my chest…

I lost count after that.

I gripped the sheets underneath me when I felt his breath on my inner thigh. A low moan-like sound escaped my throat as I felt his thumb graze over me where I was already wet and waiting.

“You want me here?” Harry asked.

I barely heard him, his voice was so low and deep. But somehow my insides reacted and I managed to make a sound similar to yes.

I shut my eyes when I felt his tongue on me. He licked me delicately at first, like he was testing the temperature of his tea. I squirmed underneath him until he looped his arms around my legs and pulled me closer to him, his tongue pressing just a bit.

“Harry…” I panted. “Oh god.”

My legs shook around his head while he began to devour me, his tongue working faster. Opening my eyes, I began to watch him, as much as I could at least. I reached down and pushed that one stubborn curl from his forehead and his eyes shifted up, locking with mine.

“‘s that good, baby?” he murmured, barely tearing his mouth away.

I merely nodded, the only thing I could manage at the moment besides coming undone. I bit my finger when he smiled and resumed his task, making me reach the edge.

I tugged on his hair as I came, calling out his name. He nipped at my thighs gently as they trembled before climbing up the bed to hover over me.

For a solid minute or two, he just stared at me. Perhaps he was waiting for me to say something. Perhaps he was waiting for the green light. Or perhaps he was just waiting for me to stop shaking, I dunno. But I swear his gaze was like a magnet. I couldn’t look away.

The eyeliner had begun to smudge a bit from his recent activity. I started to reach up to swipe my thumb underneath his eye when I remembered the condom in my hand. I smiled and raised my brows, offering it to him.

“You still want me, baby?” he asked, taking it from me.

“What did I say?”

“Just making sure.”

Harry uncertainty was definitely something I was not used to, but as I watched him roll the condom on, I wondered if it wasn’t a put-on. He was nothing if not confident.

Situating himself, he kissed me once more before looking into my eyes.

“I always want you too, Alyssa,” he murmured.

Then before I could respond, he entered me fully. I gasped a tiny breath when I realised how deep he was so quickly. Then exhaling through my nose, I wrapped my legs around him.

“Mmm, I love when you do that,” he said.

I couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that was definitely something he liked, and I liked pleasing him. We moved together, a slow, steady rhythm at first. I could already feel my core reacting, my most sensitive spots throbbing.

He lifted his head again and I watched his face, his eyes burning into mine as he began to move faster. I had to unravel my legs from him, lifting my knees to give him more room for thrusts. Then with a groan, he sat back and held my hips as he fucked me hard. I bit my lip to keep my moans at bay, but I couldn’t help it. Dropping my arms beside my head, I cursed and called his name.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled. “So good, innit?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He slowed down then, a low chuckle releasing from his throat. “C’mere.”

I looked at him in wonder as he guided me up and onto his lap. I noticed then that he was perspiring, beads of sweat dripping on his forehead. This time I did reach to wipe them off, but instead Harry took my hands and kissed the backs of them.

“You’re amazing, Alyssa, you know that?”

I beamed at him as I slowly began to ride him.

“You want me, Harry?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck as his gorgeous green eyes looked up at me, the makeup starting to run down one cheek. I didn’t want to wipe it away this time. He looked so sexy.

“Always,” he replied.

I licked my lips and kissed him hard, my tongue wrestling with his. His hands covered my breasts while my hips moved gingerly. Then breaking the kiss, I rode him faster, bouncing on his lap.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned as he moved his hands to my hips for leverage.

“Is that good?” I asked him, just like he’d asked me earlier.

“Fuck yeah, baby, you drive me crazy.”

I watched his face, knowing he was close to unraveling. He let out a few expletives as his fingers dug into my flesh.

“Come for me, baby,” I urged. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to watch him, and just the thought of it made me drip with delight.

“You first,” he shook his head.

I wanted to argue that I already had, and that was enough. But I knew he’d just argue back. This goddamn boy. He was going to make me fall for him, wasn’t he?

I slowed down my pace, only slightly as I needed to rejuvenate. My breaths evening out and heartbeat slowing, I kissed him again. Our lips still locked, Harry grabbed my waist and laid me back on the bed again. Then he lifted my leg and pounded me hard.

“Fuck, Harry!” I screamed.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” he requested.

I came immediately, the sensation of him deep inside and the sounds of his moans tipping me over the edge. My body trembled beneath his as his breaths quickened in my ear.

“Baby…” he groaned. “Oh, Alyssa.”

The sounds he made as he came were indescribable. This wasn’t our first shag. But it was definitely our first something else.

I lay spent on the dampened sheets, wishing I’d remembered to turn on the fan. Sticky with sweat, Harry rolled off of me, discarded the condom into the nearby bin and laid on his back breathing hard. We stayed like that for a while in silence until Harry surprised me again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said for the...how many times? I turned my head to look at him, but his gaze was on the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text just to let you know I was thinking of you. Because I was.”

My breath caught in my throat but I managed to clear it. “You were?”

“‘Course.” He turned onto his side to face me. His lips were so close to mine if either of us moved only slightly, they would touch.

“How was I supposed to know that, Harry?” I asked just above a whisper. 

Shaking his head, he seemed to consider my question. “I reckon you weren’t. I’m sorry.”

I bit my lip as he leant his forehead against mine and swung his arm across my waist. He hummed softly as though he had a song in his head.

“I wish I’d rung you to talk about your day. To ask about work or your mum. To hear about your adorable succulents.”

His last comment made me smile. “To be fair, you did text me Wednesday. So not quite two weeks.”

“Fucking Wednesday. Jesus, Alyssa,” he sighed. “And a text. How the fuck am I to expect us to be okay when I bloody text you on a Wednesday?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are we okay? Because you kind of have me worried now.”

“Yeah, if I haven’t already fucked it up,” he groaned.

“Harry…I never said you fucked it up. I’m still here. I still came to your show. I showed up and waited at the bar like you asked me to.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Did I really seem different tonight?” I asked.

“Not...well, kinda. You just...didn’t seem like yourself, that’s all.”

“Well then, I apologise, because I thought I was the same as I’ve always been - the same as you want.”

“What I want?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Well, Harry…” I hesitated. “We’ve never really discussed what we want from each other. But I assumed you didn’t want anything serious. We’re like...friends with benefits I reckon.”

“No, we’re not,” he stated.

My jaw dropped as I glared at him.

“I don’t want you to be..." he added.

“What?”

“Baby, I don’t want you to be just a friend with benefits. I want...this.” Harry gestured between us.

“This?”

“Us. You and I. Or, um...you and me, whatever.”

I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I was sure it was so loud he could hear it. “Seriously?”

Harry nodded, his hand sliding underneath my jaw. “I want you, baby.”

I sighed, tears starting to form in my eyes. Blinking fast, I swallowed hard. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t mean just sex. I want you, for real. I was gutted when I thought something had changed between us, but then I realised it was my own fucking fault.”

“I don’t...know what to say, Harry.”

“Say you want me too. You and I.”

I smiled as I reached for him, kissing him tenderly and eagerly. “Always.”

Harry’s dimples appeared in his cheeks as he beamed at me. I couldn’t help it. I started giggling.

“Oh love,” I sighed. “Please tell me you’ll continue to do the eyeliner thing. I’m with Bruno. You look sexy AF.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Truth? You look completely fucked. And I love that it was with me. Only makes me want you more.”

“Well, in that case,” he murmured low, pulling my leg across his, “I’ll wear it from now on.”

“Just so I know it’s for me, and not your groupies.”

Harry snorted. “Or Bruno?”

“Eh, I don’t mind so much about Bruno. He’s on my side.”

Harry laughed harder before kissing me across my cheek and down my neck.

“You really are amazing, Alyssa,” he whispered in my ear. “Now...tell me about your succulents.”

“Well Prince is the newest, like I said,” I began, Harry’s mouth continuing its trail down my neck and shoulder. “Mick and Freddie were my first two and they’re still going strong. But Bowie is a bit temperamental…”

Hope you enjoyed!

Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[isaut]

googoo gaga over this man. divorcee au

“I never really learned how to dance,” Rex admits. 

The kitchen illuminates the two of you as well as the evening light. Pasta simmers on the stove in front of you, and two fine glasses of wine stand before each of you. Jazz music plays from your record player, which inspired your swaying and Rex’s commentary. 

“No?” You ask. 

“No,” Rex affirms. 

“Not even for your wedding?” 

Rex brings his wine glass to his lips. “No. Just kind of swayed.” 

“That’s a shame,” you say. 

“You like dancing then, I guess.” 

“I love it.” 

There’s a pause. Rex sets down the glass and comes to stand beside you and the hot stove. His hand rests on your lower back, sliding to your hip. 

“You seem like you do.”

You smile, fluttering your lashes up at him. “Do I?” 

Rex nods. “You like a lot of stuff I don’t know about. But I don’t mind. I’m learning.”

You’re learning too. Your pupils turn to hearts when he starts talking about physics over dinner. Blindly, you take his advice when you play Risk and Catan together. 

Arguably speaking, you’ve been much slower to unravel the little bits about you that Rex craves to learn. So much of it had been boxed away over the past year and some, forced away from lack of time, lack of emotional energy, lack of dance partner. 

“I’ll teach you, if you want,” you offer. 

Rex’s eyes light up. “Yeah?” 

You nod. The timer for the pasta goes off, and Rex moves to your other side, hand still lingering on you as you drain the grains and add it to the sauce. 

“‘S easier with some music than others. I think jazz is the easiest.” 

A piece of pasta plops outside of the saucepan as you stir. Rex plucks up the rigatoni and pops it in his mouth. “What makes you say that?” 

You shrug. “Sounds like living, y’know?” 

“I don’t. I haven’t really listened to jazz like that.” 

Turning your head, you regard Rex. Your stirring pauses. “No?” 

“Nah.” 

Your stirring resumes. 

Rex lounges on your couch, cocktail in hand. Leftovers have been tucked away in the fridge, dishes in the dishwasher. You’re crouched before your record player and the collection of records, flipping through them. 

Eventually, you come across a mini record, one with only four songs on it, and lift it up, reading the title just to remind yourself what it is. 

“We’ll start with this,” you say, looking over at Rex. You don’t think he’s moved his gaze from you since he sat down. His eyes are warm, like liquid amber in the low lights. 

“What is it?” Rex asks. 

“This is the Roland Kirk Quartet,” you say, slipping the record onto the turntable, listening to it buzz to life. “I picked it up when I was studying abroad in Cairo.” 

“Really?” Rex asks. 

Nodding, you come to sit beside Rex. He shifts, so his arm spreads out along the back of the couch. 

Rex tilts his head to the side, gaze lingering along your profile. “Were you just buying records?” 

You smile. “Mostly. I was supposed to be learning about the pigments used to decorate sarcophagi. But I spent a lot more time… not doing that.” 

Rex shakes his head and smiles. Takes a sip of his drink, almost in disbelief. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks when he turns back to you, voice a murmur. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, matching his tone, gaze fluttering about his face. 

“You could be anywhere…” but I’m glad you’re here. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit quietly, over trumpets and tapping ride cymbals. “I’m making it up as I go.” 

Rex smiles. The corners of his eyes crease. “I think we all are.” 

Humming, you rest your head to the side. “You think so?” 

“Yeah,” Rex says. “I know so.” 

“You do? How?” 

“We don’t need to get into all of that,” Rex says. “You just have to trust me.” 

“Okay,” you say, all too easily. 

A grin spreads across your face as Rex leans in closer to you. 

“Are you going to teach me to dance, sweetheart? Or just sit here and look pretty?” 

With a hum, you bite your bottom lip for a moment. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“Yeah,” Rex says. “I’d be blind not to.” 

You let the comment linger for a moment. “Can I be honest?” 

“Yeah,” Rex breathes. 

“I don’t know how to teach you to dance.” 

“Who taught you how to dance?” 

Your eyes search Rex’s. “My dad.” 

Rex exhales, relieved. “I thought you were going to say your ex.” 

You laugh, reaching to hold Rex’s arm. “No, thank goodness. Can you imagine?” 

“I was imagining it, and I didn’t like it,” Rex says, matching your smile. 

“I’ll teach you, but I require something in return.” 

“And what is that?”

“A kiss.” You’re so close to Rex now anyways, lips hovering inches away from each other. One grand sway and you’d be attached. 

“Just one?” Rex asks. 

You nod. He bows his head further. His breath ghosts against your lips. You fight the urge to wet your lips. 

His lips press against yours. Firm. Soft. He pulls away with eyes just as soft as yours. 

“Maybe we can just kiss a little bit,” you whisper, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Rex ducks his head beside you, reaching around you to set his drink on your coffee table. His hand, cool from the condensation, rests on your thigh. 

“Just a little bit,” you repeat. 

“We can kiss for as long as you’d like,” Rex murmurs. “There’s nothing I’d rather do more.” 

With a giggle that sounds far too youthful, you bat your lashes up at him. The hand on your thigh squeezes. 

“I do want to learn to dance,” Rex continues. “I need to be able to keep up with you.” 

You decide, in that moment, that you can kiss him while you dance. Fluidly, you stand, holding out a hand for Rex. He regards it for a moment, then takes it, only to pull you back down on the couch. You go with a gasp. 

Rex stands, smoothing a hand down his front before offering one out to you. 

With a flush high on your cheeks, you take Rex’s hand in your own. He pulls you up, hand resting on your lower back. You loop your hands around his neck, pressing against him. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against his once more. 

“There aren’t any rules,” you murmur, shaking your hair back so it falls along your backside. “You just kind of let… Let your body listen.” 

Rex’s hands rest on your hips. You flutter your lashes up. “So what is your body hearing?” 

His body is hearing a lot of things. It’s the blood in his ears, the warmth beneath his fingertips. The gaze down your shirt. The tug of your earrings against your earlobes. 

Sensing his unresponsiveness, you take it upon yourself to make the first move. You press your leg against his, moving it backwards. Rex follows suit, then takes another step backwards. Then forwards. Then again. Then backwards. Then again. 

The rhythm builds. You move in fluid motions together, back and forth, until you pull away from him, leading him to a more open space in your living room, twirling yourself under his arm, pulling back before pulling yourself in. Like breathing. 

“You’re getting the hang of it,” you say, smiling up at Rex. With a hand on his chest, you lean back up to meet him for another kiss. He meets you for it gladly. 

Your shuffling feet come to a standstill, in favor of moving your lips against each other. Gentle, fluid motions. Opening and closing. Like a valve on your heart with every beat. 

“Is this what your body is telling you?” You ask, not bothering to open your eyes, asking the question directly against Rex’s lips. 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

Your fingers scratch against where his buzzed hair meets his neck. Your lips find him again. The jazz music comes to a halt as the record reaches the last note on the A side. Neither of you move from where you’re standing, lips passing against each other. 

One of Rex’s hands trails up to rest on your waist, the other firmly on your hip. You keep your hand firmly on the back of his neck. You don’t actually need to worry about him leaving, but you want all the assurance that he won’t. 

It feels like you’re overstepping a line when your tongue swipes along his lower lip. Hopeful. Lustful. Shy. 

Rex pulls you in closer, arching your back as he responds to the kiss. His mouth opens. He sighs into you. 

It feels wonderful. You need to catch your breath but you don’t care. Instead, you reciprocate tenfold. Press along his body. Ignore the hard points of each other’s bodies in favor of the softness within each other’s mouths. 

Rex’s hand comes to press between your shoulder blades before it lowers back to your waist. He takes a sharp breath as he pulls away, leaving you chasing after him. 

“We were dancing,” Rex breathes. 

You inhale. “Yeah, we were.” 

Dancing could have multiple meanings. 

“Let’s keep going.” 

You do. Your feet move alongside Rex’s light as a feather. Your fingers interlock and separate– Rex likes spinning you. Likes when your back is against his chest, likes when you’re smiling up at him. Likes how easy going you look, how relieved. How carefree, how joyous. 

He wonders if you feel loved. Because he feels it, exploding from his chest. It’s almost overwhelming, how much love he feels. Feels wrong, to some degree. 

Eventually, when the two of you collapse back onto the couch, with your legs over Rex’s, and your bodies too close, Rex closes his eyes. Leans his head back, takes deep breaths of the candle-hinted air. 

Neither of you say a word. Instead, you bask in the silence. In the steady breaths. 

You debate inviting Rex to spend the night. You have a guest bedroom. You have your bedroom. Your bed. 

Instead, you say goodbye to him at your door. Steal another kiss while the door is closed, as if someone would see the two of you in your bubbling summertime romance phase. And when the door is open, you wave to him, still in the clothes you put on just for him to come over. He waves back, and keeps glancing over his shoulder as he walks back to his truck. 

You don’t close the door until he’s at the stop sign. Until he turns left, and out of your sight.

[redcoralpot]

Uhmm do u do Glenn x make reader👉👈

Oh and if u do can pls do a smut but no cheating pls I luv Maggie😔❤️

Poker Face - Glenn Rhee X Male Reader (Smut)

Hey everyone! I finally got it done 🎉 sorry for the long wait!! Sorry if there’s any mistakes, I kind of rushed it and it’s my first smut in a few years 😵‍💫 (And was I listening to Lady Gaga while writing this? Of course)

Word Count: 1.1K

    - “What are you doing out here?” you whisper to a stranger, sitting down on the porch. 

    The warm air whipped your cheek as you stared at him, ignoring the screams coming from inside the house. His lanky figure tensed up and he opened his eyes.

    “I needed a break.”

    You slid closer, your thighs touching his, “I can understand that.”

    “Yeah, I mean, it’s been a lot lately.”

    “That’s the understatement of the century,” you laugh, “I never got your name.”

    Seeing his expression was difficult without sunlight, “It’s Glenn.”

    “That name’s pretty, I like it.”

    A particularly loud scream startled you both, the man beside you jumping in skittish surprise. In an effort to calm him, you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it in circles. 

    “Why don’t we go somewhere more secluded? You look like you need it,” you offer. 

    “But what if they need me? I can’t just leave them.”

    “There’s plenty of people around who can help if they need anything, I promise.”

    “Still—”

    “You can’t do shit if you’re this anxious, it’ll be fine. They’ll understand.”

    Glenn looked torn, his body stuck between wanting to come with you and stiff loyalty to his group. His eyes were wide; you decided that they looked rather pretty like that. The moon was high in the sky, causing a gentle glint to grace them. Standing up, you turned towards him and reached out a hand. 

    “It’s your choice.”

    -

    One thing you noticed about Glenn was that he manages to be quick and silent at the same time. It was honestly impressive, in your opinion, as you could barely hear the shuffle of his feet behind you. Crickets sing their songs as you stopped, plopping down on a nearby log. The half-rotten wood creaked as the other man chose to do the same. 

    Looking at him, you asked, “So where did your group come from?”

    He shrugged, “The city nearest to here.”

    “That’s nice, I haven’t been off the farm since it all started. Hershel says it isn’t too bad out there, but I’m having a hard time believing him.”

    You could feel sweat dripping uncomfortably down your chest, so you fumbled with your top shirt buttons until they opened, exposing it to air. You exhaled in brief relief, turning back to Glenn. To your surprise, the man’s head whipped away at the same time, gulping. 

     A knowing smirk threatened to take over your face, but you managed to innocently ask, “Is something the matter?”

     “No, um, nothing’s wrong,” he nervously replied, his eyes refusing to meet yours. 

     You lean closer, studying his face, “Are you completely sure?”

    “Maybe?”

    Tilting your mouth towards his ear, you whisper, “It’s your choice, what do you really want?”

     For extra dramatics, you brushed your lips against it before pulling away. 

    “A distraction.”

    “Hm?”

     “I want a distraction,” he mumbled. 

     Taking his chin in your hand, you force him to look up at you, “I’m gonna need you to speak up.”

      “I need a distraction,” he complied. 

       “Such as?”

       Glenn swallowed, “You know, sex.”

       “Good job, now get on your knees.”

       As he slipped down, you reached down and unzipped your pants. With your other hand, you patted his head. You felt almost lightheaded as you pulled it out, watching as he stared all the while. That was plenty enough to tell you that he’d been thinking about it for some time. 

     Your dick is now standing proudly out, and the raven-haired man kneeling before you almost immediately went in for the treat. However, right before he could, you tightened your grip on his hair and stopped him. 

      “You’re so impatient,” you tutted, “if you ever need to stop, tap on my thigh twice. Got it?”

      “Yeah, yeah, I definitely got it,” Glenn stuttered. 

     Releasing your grip, you allowed him to nuzzle the underside of your shaft as you sat back and watched. Tentatively, he licked a trail up to the head, before taking it into his mouth. You groaned, heat sizzling through your body. 

     Glenn swirled his tongue, eagerly taking in more. You brushed your fingers over his head, muscles tense with the strain of keeping your nonchalant demeanor. Under him, Glenn was palming himself through his jeans, trying his best to get off at the same time. If you peered closely, you could see a dark spot making itself known. You’d have to get back to that. But for now, you knocked his hand away with your boot. 

     “I never said you could touch yourself,” you hissed, and the man under you keened. 

      “Shit,” you moaned, “can I fuck your face?”

      He nodded the best he could with your cock in his mouth, giving a few final sucks before you pulled him off. You let him rest for a few minutes, studying how he panted harshly. His face was red and his hair was messed up, spit and precum dripping down his chin. 

      “You’re doing so amazing,” you huffed, breaching his mouth with your cock once again. 

      The surgery, the walkers, the screams, all were forgotten as Glenn relaxed into your grasp. Slowly, you got rougher, until soon enough you were thrusting into his mouth with confidence. The dark spot on his jeans had gotten bigger and every few thrusts, the man whined, his thighs shaking. The head of your dick touched the back of his throat as you fell into a steady rhythm, feeling his moans vibrating through you. They got more and more desperate, each one making the knot in your gut grow tighter. Finally, Glenn let out a shaking sob and the blaze in your gut snapped. 

      “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, thrusting a few final times before everything around you whited out and a red hot shiver took over your body. 

      Glenn himself shook, the haze of pleasure covering the salty and warm taste of your cum as he swallowed it all. Both heaving in the aftermath, you brushed some of the fallen strands of hair out of his face. 

     “That was,” the man breathed, “that was awesome.”

    You chuckled, “Let me help you finish.”

    As soon as you spoke, his face burst into a massive blush. You raised your eyebrows in confusion, thinking back to the dark spot on his jeans earlier. 

    “Well, um,” he stumbled, seeming embarrassed. 

    The man clicked open his jeans, showing you the sticky mess inside his pants and his ruined boxers. 

    “Wow.”

     “It was just really good so—”

     “Don’t worry about it, I think it’s hot.” You stood up, slipping up your zipper and holding out your hand. 

     “C’mon, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

-

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Monster

Warnings: surprisingly none (good job me) I lied… but it’s semi smut (I tried… but not hard enough. I’m too down bad for him 😭)

Tags: @thatchubbypillow

They were just vibing near him with headphones in. They managed to convince Lambert that they didn’t own a phone, nor did they give him their actual phone number. They gave it to him on a burner phone, and that was the phone he currently had. They were listening to the song Monster by Lady Gaga

Something in the air tonight was just aching for that song to be played. He could hear the music being played, and noticed no one had said anything about it, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. The song was on repeat cause they were just having a moment until he taps them on their shoulder to get their attention

They paused the music, and then placed their headphones around their neck. They turned to face the person who tapped their shoulder, and turned red immediately once they realized who it was. “You really thought you could be so slick with keeping your actual phone on you” he stared, which makes them want to melt already

They liked that he was talking to them more now, since they immediately started crushing on him. They wondered exactly what he was gonna do in this situation. “Give it to me” he orders, which makes them wonder what he’d even do to it. “Uh… why?” They asked as they hoped that one of their friends wouldn’t text them back now

“Cause you’re not supposed to fucking have it” Frank says, which makes them think about exactly where he’d put their phone. “I can’t believe your risking us getting tracked down just to listen to some fucking Lady Gaga” Frank says in annoyance, which makes Sammy and Peter look at what’s going on

This makes them shocked that he even knew who Lady Gaga was. He didn’t seem like the type to keep up with new music and artists. “Now hand the fucking phone over.” Frank orders, which makes them sigh. “Fine. You got me sir” they let out their hands in defeat, and then grabbed their phone out

“But where are you gonna put it, huh? If someone was tracking me, you’d want it as far as possible” they pointed out as they give it to him. He breaks the phone; “that’s how.” “Damn…” they put their headphones back on, and pressed play for music to continue. Frank looks puzzled by their actions. “Oh my god” Sammy lets out a surprised laugh as she hears music coming from their headphones again

“Damn, they got you good Frank” Peter says, which makes Frank annoyed. “If we get caught, I know who I’m fucking blaming” Frank walks off in annoyance as a smirk plays on their face

***

They were covered in blood now, and the only human being still alive. Frank was looking at them with a big smirk now. All night up until now, they had started to listen to him, and he recognized that they had feelings for him as well. “Let’s dance” he says as moves closer towards them

They felt confused as he approached, and once he stood in front of them, he’s smiling. He takes their hand to kiss it. They blushed as he now stood back up. He had their phone in his hand now, which makes them shocked. “How long have you’ve had that?” They asked as Monster by Lady Gaga starts to play now after he presses play

“That doesn’t really matter right now. Come on and dance with me” he places the phone into his pocket now as the song continues. “Yes sir” they say with an obvious blush on their face now. One of their hands on his shoulder, and one of their hands are in his. His other hand is on their waist now

They definitely didn’t expect this, but they didn’t mind. The two start swaying along to the song, and they never felt lost in a moment until now. He looks at their neck, and wanted to dig his fangs deep into their neck. He decides to lick the blood off their neck instead, which makes them shiver

“Frank” they moaned, which makes him stop. He lifts his head back up, and made the two stop dancing. He kisses them on their lips, which caught them by surprise, but they returned the kiss. He immediately deepens the kiss with his hand on their face now. They let out another moan

His lips now go onto their neck as his hand now goes back to his side. He’s leaving hickeys, but they knew what he really wanted. It excites them though that he wants to suck their neck. They didn’t care if that’s how they’d go, and he knew it too

He pulls away to look them in their eyes. He smirks as he now bites their neck. They felt stiff as he drains them. Once they take their last breath to say I love you, he pulls away. Their body is now on the ground as he smirks again. “I love you too dear” the song is still playing as he’s just looking at their lifeless body

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by my loves (check their posts) @ebdaydreamer @panbuckley thank you 🫂🫂🫂🫂💙💙💙💙💙

I'm working and working on vegas drunk marriage (interact if you want be tagged). And today I think I will end half of first draft (not first half tho). Here more from date and things got spicy

“What?” Eddie raises his eyebrow at Buck’s strange look.

“Nothing, nothing. I-I just can’t believe we’re actually on a date and you’re my fiance and we had a wedding with Lady Gaga officiating it,” Buck chuckles. “Feels like it’s a long dream about you.”

“Do you have a lot of dreams about me?” Eddie lowers his voice and moves closer to the blue-eyed man, grinning.

“Plenty since poker,” Buck puts his hand on Eddie’s and whispers in his ear. Eddie feels goosebumps from Buck's breathing and his next words. “But I don’t think you want to hear it now, baby. Because most of them are wet dreams.” Buck bites his lower lip moving away from Eddie. “But I can tell you in our room,” he winks.

“The bill, please,” Eddie needs all his self-control not to scream it impatiently, but he needs to get Buck to their room as soon as possible. Buck laughs at him because he knows Eddie is impatient and it’s his mistake. Eddie kisses his cheek and whispers, “You better start to choose your favorite dream, baby. I will make it real for you,” he puts his hand on Buck’s inner thigh as he dreamed for a long time, stroking lightly and enjoying the picture of a reddened man near him.

“You need to stop, Eds, please, I won’t be able to walk in front of people,” Eddie takes pity on him and stops stroking, but does not remove his hand. 

He had wanted to touch those gorgeous thighs for too long, especially when they had become many times larger in recent months. Buck's legs, and especially his thighs, always drove him crazy. But after Taylor, Buck clearly added leg exercises, and Eddie has been going a little crazy every day since he noticed how much thicker Buck's thighs became (maybe after noticing this for the first time he needed extra time in the shower, but it's all the fault of Buck's skinny jeans.) Eddie wants to bite Buck’s thighs and feel them around his head and waist. Ok, maybe he should stop himself, otherwise, he won't be able to get up either.

Tagging(no pressure 💙): @useramor @911onabc @heartbeatdiaz @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @bi-buck-coded @honestlydarkprincess @buddierights @the-likesofus @rogerzsteven @shortsighted-owl @transbuck @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @transboybuckley @bekkachaos @housewifebuck @monsterrae1 @singlethread @cowboy-buddie @buckitup @bigassdiaz @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @buckleydiaz @firsttobleed and anyone who want to share something

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hi ignore that I haven't been working on the prologue so I can start editing+posting The Fobwatch Fic. Anyways this fic scene possessed me at like 2 AM the other night and I needed to. Get it out of my system. And now you get to see too. This follows not-terribly-long after this scene actually. (Only other one posted)

Context to get here: Rory's watch opening, processing, the Master failing badly at kidnapping Amy, returning her back, and an argument that had ensued between the Doctor(11) and the Master.

Timeline context: Rory/Darvill!Master regenerated from Missy. Timeline fuckery.

"Anyways, now that we're over that." The Master presses a button on his TARDIS console. "Maybe it's time for something more familiar."

Music plays over the speakers.

Oh-oh-oh-ohhhhh-

"Wait-" The Master bangs on the console in his frustration, and the song starts to skip.

Rah rah-ah-ah-ah-a-ah

Gaga ohh-la— -la

Thud. "— that's not right-"

Caughzz—

- Want your—

Bad Romance.

"That isn't- oh- oh yeah, right, sorry - last chick was on the aux-"

Ooh-la-la

Want your-

Last chick? The Master had been holding Amy hostage... Kind of. The Doctor glanced at her, and she looks at him. "I was in here for all of forty minutes, I wouldn't even know how to put it on-" she starts, and there's a moment before the Doctor catches up and turns to follow the Master with a look of knowing delight on his face.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, wait a second, last who?"

Love love love I want your—

The Master rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on Doctor. I feel like that was very clear. Last girl round. My darling little sister, trying her best..."

Amy's brow knits, and she speaks up to direct a question to the Master, who was... stewing. "Sorry- Can you guys change that much?"

His face scrunches, and he pulls himself out of it."We can change much more than you think, Amy."

I want it bad your bad romance—

"Last time around I was a very cunty Scotswoman and I wish I could say I took inspiration."

There's a moment where he tries to skip, or stop, or something, but it kept going. So he did the next best thing- smack the column of the console with a loud, dull thud from the glass. And a sharp, quiet hiss from the Master when he winces and grabs the offending hand.

I want your - bad bad bad bad-ad —

oh-oh-oh-oh—

After a moment, the Master turns to the Doctor and points. "Don't go getting any ideas copying me next time around."

Bad Romance finally stops.

The Doctor suddenly turned serious about the whole thing. Right. Next time around. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Master to know that. Or Amy... "Master, the thing- about next time-"

The Master got closer, and prodded the Doctor's shoulder with a finger. "Don't worry about that too much, I wasn't talking to you right then. That was for later." The other song starts.* And with that finger poke, the Master makes a dramatic motion, as if he pushed himself away from the Doctor with great force as he circled his TARDIS console away from them both to check another monitor.

*Most Likely: Mamma Mia, Under Attack, or Istanbul(Not Constantinople). It will probably be mentioned again in a manner similar to Bad Romance once I decide. Yippeee.

Insert A Song Beat

"Did you seriously do that on purpose?" Amy asks, looking around the TARDIS for the exact source of the music, and then back at the Master. He still wasn't as far off from the sad drowned cat look earlier as he thought, looking up at her.

"Oh, Amy, there's on thing you should've picked up on by now: I'm dramatic." He winks at her. "You have to be, to keep up with him." He tilts his chin to the Doctor, and his attention returns to a monitor as it makes a beeping noise.

"... Anyways, Doctor, you can start running now." He says.

The Doctor hesitates. "... What do you mean?"

The Master continues to look on idly. "I mean that I happened to- to take- Amy to buy time. And to bother you. Oh, I know it bothered you. Probably even more than the whole Rory-Oopsie."

If the Doctor didn't want to believe he didn't have A Plan, he'd find A Plan.

"I knew you'd come back to Leadworth as soon as I did. Gave me enough time."

"... Time for what..?"

"Oh, to use that little trip-alarm you left for me to download the psychic data I needed from yourr TARDIS. To my TARDIS." The Master looked up with a big self-pleased smile to the Doctor's serious furrowed brow.

"Doon't worryy! I only took what I needed. C'mon, what's a little hacking among girls? Buut, I'll tell you this," he pushes a big square button, and the door to his ship opens.

"If you start running now, you'll get to your TARDIS with enough time to stop me from getting access to try 'n send her into orbit from here— ah,ah,ah,ah-" the Master tuts and pushes the monitor away from the other two, and braced himself against the Doctor when he tried to rush at his console with a shout, "- don't bother, Doctor, the controls are isomorphic," a lie, "you know me," he said into the Doctor's ear. "But I would run."

That felt. Good. That felt familiar.

The Doctor was already backing up. The Master didn't let go, right away, his hands following the other even as he left the embrace in unexpected panic.

"Amy, run!" The Doctor shouts, and runs.

"Amy, you can stay!" The Master shouts immediately in turn, turning to Amy with an open hand out.

And Amy hesitates, mouth open and eyes wide as she stares at the Master(at Rory's eyes), before following the Doctor out at a sprint. [cont]

[cakexblankett]

Tag

Green

Character

Rebecca Ferguson

Words

845

~•~

"Hey!"

She looked around before locking eyes with you. She smiled widely, making her way up to you. She looked stunning, you thought. She had a short white dress, with flowers embroided all over it. Her hair was curled and she had a light touch of makeup. You stared at her for a bit before hugging her.

"It's been so long!"

"It is! I'm shocked you still remembered me!"

She said, giggling. How could you forget her? She was your entire world, you could never ever forget a person like her.

She still had the same effect on you: your heartbeat quickened, you had butterflies in your stomach, you couldn't stop smiling and you felt almost dizzy, like her presence was too much to bare. She was a goddess on earth and you were a mere servant of hers.

"Yeah..."

You laughed awkwardly. She tilted her head to the side and you almost choked on nothing. Wonderful. If anybody could read your mind, in that moment, they would find the Lady Gaga meme where she kept spitting out compliments after compliments. Literally, that's what you were doing in your head.

"What do you want to do?"

"Ah... you know, I didn't think you would actually come so..."

You admitted. She grinned, taking your hand in hers. You gulped, feeling your hand starting to sweat. Her skin was soft.

"Want to walk around a bit?"

You nodded, retrieving your hand from hers. You started walking beside her, and you closed your eyes as soon as her scent hit you. It was sweet, like peaches and daisies. You almost leaned closer, but she made you snap out of your trance.

"So... what do you do now?"

You used to go to the same university, she was ten years older than you but that didn't stop you from falling hard for her. You became a book translator while she... well, she was famous and, thinking about it, you were so lucky to have been able to see her that day. She made time to meet you, she freed a bit of her busy schedule to be with a person like you and you thought that was really sweet of her. She even remembered you. Fantastic.

"Ah well, you know how I always said that I'd like to translate books and stuff?"

Rebecca nodded, her eyes shimmering.

"Don't tell me you are a translator!"

You grinned and she applauded.

"That's great! I'm so happy for you, Y/N!"

The fact that she was happy for you made you so glad, like you were actually hearing for the first time that you were a translator.

"I don't have to ask you what you do because..."

"Yeah, pretty obvious."

You both laughed. Her laugh was divine. It was like listening to Billie Eilish singing high notes.

You walked for about an hour, talking about your lives, what changed and what not. She told you about her children, and about her husband and you noticed she always looked down while talking about him.

"He is... well, he treats me well, that's a good thing."

You knew she hid something but you didn't want to intrude so you didn't ask anything about it. After a while, she stopped on her track, and looked at you.

"Come to my house, won't you?"

You remained petrified. To her house?

"I insist."

How could you say no to her? And so you accepted, and her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. You were mesmerised by her, by her everything.

And so you were there, before your eyes appeared this beautiful white and brown house. She kept smiling, and you could feel the happiness she was feeling. And you were euphoric too, even though you couldn't believe it was real.

"Come, make yourself at home."

The house was big and pretty. Two children made their appearence and shook your hand politely. One even kissed you and told you:

"I'm so glad my mom made you come. You made her regain her spark. Thank you!"

And, as soon as they appeared, they disappeared. You looked around you, feeling overwhelmed. You were in Rebecca's house. Your head was spinning.

"Come, sit."

She said, waving you to go near her. And you were so close, you could have almost kissed her, and you were about to when...

"Wake up!"

You opened your eyes, lazily.

"Bloody Hell!"

You covered your face with your hands. It was all a dream. Of course it was, you knew it was too perfect to be a reality. You looked up. Rebecca would never remember you. She didn't think of you the way to thought of her. And even though you sometimes texted eachother, she was happily married and you were only a random girl who used to be in her life. Nothing more, maybe less.

~•~

Please, help! I think I have a huge crush on my philosophy teacher, and I dreamed of her yesterday. Should I tell her? I don't want to make things weird.

[jackalsinthekitchen]

pop report #8 (today's top hits, 9/24/24)

today's top twenty – short n' salty

A whole Brat Summer has come and gone since we last left off. I tumbled belatedly down Charli’s rabbit hole in January, when I was looking for something to flatter a high, and she ended up blowing my world apart. I’d slept on her a decade ago, when she was both sugar and spice – everything nice, really – in hits which have aged varying degrees of well. Yet her 2015 union with PC Music was what put the form to her urge to soundscape – unlike the DMT-addled Todd Rundgren of fifty years ago, of whom she’s a fan, she’s nothing if not collaborative. When I first played brat, besotted as any sane person would be by the effervescent “360”, I found its music too metallic and its melodies overly astringent. Mea culpa – now no less an authority than our next president [knock, knock] has validated her cultural primacy.

So you won’t catch me complaining anymore – it couldn’t have happened to a more visionary icon. But of course, the year belongs to neither Charli, nor the victor in the battle of the quarter-century (not talking about Beyoncé v. Swift, who I think it’s safe to say overdid themselves into a draw this time out). Armed with little more than a wand, a rabbit, and a kabuki-meets-Cyndi Lauper aesthetic, the Midwest Princess finally completed her year-long rise this fall. Meanwhile, in Chappell’s shadow, the Last Straight Femme has put a bow on a fascinating saga that kicked off with “Drivers License”, while Olivia takes sour selfies abroad. And the season of the sticks is long over, with the cabal of bros who once threatened to turn 2024 into the Year of the Dude proving one-hit wonders – or if not one, at least a lot less than F-1 trillion.

But the bro atop half of Today’s Top Hit, Bruno Mars, is a different breed altogether – like his duet partner, one L. Gaga, a star so massive he’s transcended this plane, if not the material world. The languidly soulful waltz “Die with a Smile” sounds to me like an AI dream about “Beautiful Things” being less annoying, and as with everything else America can’t stop listening to (including “Beautiful Things”), someday soon I’m sure I’ll love it. But it still turns on vocals which grind into sincerity, yielding more sawdust than sparks, and presumably won’t unite a wedding dancefloor like “Uptown Funk” or “Bad Romance” ages from now. I suppose each artist thought they had to remind us that they were alive, and forgive my cynicism that the song is doing so well on branding power alone (well, and maybe those outfits).

Tate McRae is another one who feels greedier for the public than vice versa, but it’s ok – “It’s ok I’m ok” is a bit more than OK, the rapid-fire rap hook and sudden wash of synth atmospherics disrupting its relative self-repetition. It's another one that promises to grow over a slow fade; I’d say pop hits are fading slower than ever, but really, it’s always been this way. It does boast some brevity, said to be the soul of something in limited currency – its brisk two and a half minutes feel closer to 75 seconds. Lasting as long is #3, a single about lingering, Short n’ Sweet (ha)’s attention-seizing opener “Taste”. Whereas Olivia’s overtures to authenticity made her so compelling, Sabrina leans into the prefab, and it’s fab every time, fam. Its throwback feel is one of its chiefest virtues – it’s a dead ringer for the Divinvyls, and who doesn't dig the Divinyvls?

The fun of Chappell Roan is which of her big hits you can’t escape at any given moment – only “Pink Pony Club”, which is basically a standard now, is falling behind the rest of the pack. #4 on today’s TTH is “Good Luck, Babe”, its chorus such a pristine flourish of frosting it’s always good for getting through, coming out or kissing off. It’s the first in a trio of queer victories down the list, followed by Charli’s zero-melody banger “Guess”, feat. Billie E, whose subsequently-slotted “Birds of a Feather” is to “we can’t be friends” (#21) as Sour is to Short n’ Sweet. Here’s a girl who writes like she earned both her Oscars. This sapphic streak goes up in flames with the Weeknd, a painfully-straight whose strongest hits sound super gay anyway. After The Idol, the flames are all he can dance in.

#s 8-12 are five stalwart inescapables – that me espresso, H-O-T-T-O-G-O, J.J. Abrams’ nepo baby keenly cornering the “wounded submissive with an acoustic guitar” half of the Taylor Swift market (her vocals softening Olivia’s bratty diction with Billie’s volume control – “I Love You, I’m Sorry”, not as good as “Risk” but still good), Hozier cornering the Adam Levine market (it’s not my aphrodisiac, but the sky still splits open at that wailing instrumental break), errybody in the bahr gittin’ tyup-seh. Then the crisp, honeyed “Apple”, one of a handful of excellent hooks (not to mention lyrics) I missed like a dumb bitch when I was being a brat about brat. Benson Boone’s “Slow it Down” (no one asked you to, BB) sounds extra hoary directly after – though yet again, he builds up to something more worth your while than you expect from the first minute.

Depending on how you look at it, no two bros need more or less help than Post Malone and Morgan Wallen. But for their stab at the song of the summer – per Billboard, it worked – six additional bros lent a hand (though, credit where due, one of them is named Ashley). “I Had Some Help” is solid, and as with all decent-plus generic pop hits gets better or worse depending on the weather in your town or head. Still, the main takeaway is that both men would love to be Sabrina Carpenter, if not Chappell Roan. Next in line is the only member of the Tortured Poets’ Department that doesn’t sound asleep, "I Can Do it With a Broken Heart", a missile aimed directly under Joe Alwyn’s skin – the same summer the latter decided it would be a canny career move to play a rapist in Yorgos Lanthimos’ hasty surrender of his newly-acquired feminist cred.

After Tommy “Temporarily” Richman’s programmatic percolator “Million Dollar Baby” – his album will be called Coyote, though he might’ve just as easily gone with I, Robot – comes a new one for the stomp-clappers Noah Kahan pulled out of the woodwork: Myles Smith’s “Stargazing”. Anyone who’s ever wondered what Chris Martin would sound like fronting Mumford & Sons will be free to turn their attention elsewhere. Then there’s an arresting little club-designed mystery I haven’t heard before – “Move”, by two white guys (Adam Port and Stryv) and a Black vocalist (Malachiii) gently cashing in on a bourgeoning Afrobeats bubble (on this hemisphere, anyway – it’s an embarrassment of riches on the other). It’s a big hit in Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Austria – shades of ABBA, who never crossed the color line in their lives.

I’d call #20 the secret song of the summer – while many of us are feeling hot to go and so Julia, there are still plenty of shitty vibes to go around, not to mention shitty men (this writer included). Justice doesn’t get more poetic than “Please Please Please” hitting the top in a surging crop of penis-pop. While Sabrina’s triumphs are often trifles, “Please” nails an almost unprecedented level of sexual-politics profundity without a speck of strain or waste (I’d be shocked if it featured more than three instruments). Sure, Olivia’s righteous rage always hits like a tonic, but something about Carpenter’s straight-to-the-point disappointment feels a great deal more potent. Imagine if Lesley Gore, not to mention Aretha Franklin, had had “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” at their disposal. Even then, neither would’ve delivered that last word with the same score-settling perfection. Morgan Wallen and Post Malone will always have some help. 2024’s pop queens don’t need any.

[bengiyo]

Our Dining Table Ep 4 Stray Thoughts

Last week, I felt my heart grow three times when we saw the moment Minoru fell completely for Yutaka. We watched Yutaka connect with a coworker to learn a new skill so he could keep his promise to Tane to make a bento, which called back to the eggs scene in his the movie for me. We also got to see their plans for Tane go awry again and force them to adapt. I'm in love with this show and everyone in it.

I am once again begging the Japanese distributors to give better files to Gaga and Viki. The artifacts and ghosting are so distracting.

Yutaka being adopted adds an unexpected layer to this. Has he felt out of place in family dynamics his entire life?

I think Yukata made the bento picture his lock screen image. Beautiful.

I usually don't enjoy this heavy use of flashback, but I understand that we're seeing Yutaka think about how he feels included and welcome in the Ueda house.

Damn, Minoru has it bad. He had to turn completely around at Yutaka saying he was happy to see him.

I like how everyone eats in a way that doesn't feel performative. They look like they're genuinely enjoying food.

YES! LET'S MAKE CURRY!

I wonder if Inukai and co. learned more about food on this show. Nishijima talked about improving the food he made for his family after playing as Shiro.

Sweet potatoes in curry? I don't normally like sweet potatoes that much, but I'm curious.

I'm impressed with Inukai and Iijima. That was a really smooth single take walking through the food mart with Maeyama. They are working really well with this young actor to create a strong group dynamic.

Ah, Yutaka's older brother has no idea about how Yukata feels.

So Yutaka's older brother didn't want him around and they didn't even teach him how to eat these fancy meals. This is awful.

I like them having Tane peel the onions. I think it's important to get kids comfortable with food prep early so they can share in the joy of making something good together.

Now we're putting chocolate in curry??

I do love that you have to pay closer attention to body language and facial expressions in Japanese shows. You can appreciate the intricacies of the performances that way.

I don't know how often Minoru gets praise for his cooking, but he seems genuinely touched.

Damn, they didn't save any curry for the dad.

Hey, they also have Tane helping clean up.

Aw Papa Ueda meant that Yukata was welcome, but he doesn't have any positive experiences with that.

I feel bad for Minoru too. He likes Yutaka, but doesn't know him well enough yet to cheer him up.

Iijima is doing so much with his eyes and mouth. I'm obsessed.

Well, despite the sadness of this episode, it looks like we're back cooking together next week! Chin up, folks!

[90stvqueen]

What do you think lesbians are attracted to in women that we can’t be attracted to in men?

It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives woman-only attraction.

It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait women have that men can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

Oughhhh I wrote up a whole answer to this ask, and then tumblr editor crashed and didn't back it up. RIP me. Take two.

I'm answering this ask in good faith, but there are assumptions here that I need to poke at, so let's dive in.

What do you think lesbians are attracted to in women that we can’t be attracted to in men?

Already this presupposes an agreed-upon definition of the word "lesbian." If you look it up, you'll find definitions like "a woman whose sexual orientation is to women," or "a female homosexual." Even these two definitions require a closer examination - some people have different definitions for "woman" and "female" depending on their lived experience and political agenda.

Besides, I know lesbians who don't experience sexual attraction; both these definitions leave them out. I know lesbians who don't identify as women - I'm one of them! There's too much nuance for a straightforward (or gayforward! ha!) answer.

homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

When I was growing up/coming out, there were two schools of thought about why people are gay/trans:

One idea is that people choose to be gay, or become gay at some point in their lives (through trauma, conditioning, listening to Lady Gaga, etc). This idea was and is supported by the kinds of people who believe in conversion therapy.

The other idea is that you were born that way; people don't choose to be gay or trans, it's innate. This theory was more popular among the LGBTQ+ community and its allies (thanks, Lady Gaga!), and it was substantiated by the existence of homosexual animals.

It's standard nature vs. nurture, and it's a false dichotomy.

As I typed "homosexual animals," I thought, really, what I mean to say is animals that exhibit behaviors that deviate from heterosexual expectations. What's the difference? Well, as you said, animals can't articulate their identities to us. When we ascribe a label like homo/hetero/bi/pansexual to them, we create blinders for ourselves. If an animal exhibits behaviors that defy that categorization, what then? Sure, the animal doesn't care - it's just living its life. And don't we need categorization so that we have some parameters to study them?

All right, so what does that have to do with people?

Actually, quite a bit, I think. Because like you said, animals can't state their identities to us. The only way we can learn about them is through their behavior. People can state their identities, yes, but ultimately: actions speak louder than words.

What do I mean? Well, first of all, stating your identity is an action that reinforces that identity as truth. If you say you're a lesbian, but you date men, what's the truth, and who has the right to decide?

There are many people who choose to believe that the truth is simple: a lesbian is a "female homosexual," i.e. a cis woman who is exclusively attracted to other cis women (and trans men, who they see as confused cis women). We could talk about whether such distinct categorical attraction exists or if it's just bigotry in action, but it wouldn't be worth the time or energy. These people believe that words and identities are fixed things that can be decided and enforced collectively. This kind of thinking works for a lot of people, especially people who seek a higher authority in the form of "community." It also hurts a lot of other people. But I digress.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait women have that men can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

I'm doing my best not to give you a nonanswer, because the question is an interesting one - so interesting that there are decades and decades of academic and community-wide discussions about the very questions you're posing. Unfortunately, you've put me in a catch-22, because I can't explain. There are ideas and experiences that we can approximate with language, but there are some things that defy explanation.

So I'll explain, to the best of my abilities, what I mean when I say that actions speak louder than words and that being a lesbian is not intrinsically who you are, but what you do.

Way, way back in the day, before we had words like "bisexual" or "genderqueer," there was an underground lesbian community that consisted of gay and bisexual women as well as trans folks (mostly transmascs, some of whom might have called themselves a man and a lesbian in the same breath). If you were bisexual and you left the community, you were no longer a lesbian - you were "going straight." The same was true of people who decided to perform their gender as written, i.e. butches who assimilated to feminine standards and married men for their own safety.

Back then, you were a lesbian if you were part of the lesbian community. If you were performing the action of being a lesbian.

Since then, there's been a movement away from this kind of fluidity and accessibility (and inaccessibility! not everyone who wanted to be a lesbian had access!) of labels; for example, you'll hear people complaining that a "bi lesbian" isn't a thing. But some of the same people who are making that complaint are people who love the concept of "political lesbianism," a radical feminist idea from the 60s that said, hey, if you want to be a lesbian, all you have to do is leave your man and date women instead - regardless of whether or not you're attracted to women. It's the feminist thing to do! This gave birth to lesbian separatism, which brings us back to contemporary radical feminists trying to define any deviance out of the words "lesbian" and "woman."

This separatism hurts us in the end. I'm not interested in engaging with the hypotheticals and strawman arguments that TERFs often use to silence those of us who deviate from their definitions. They won't listen, and we won't agree. So, ignoring them:

I'm not a woman, but I'm a lesbian. I've dated cis and trans women in the past. What's more, I've experienced and acted on attraction to cis women, trans women, trans men, nonbinary people, and occasionally cis gay men. Uh-oh! Should I have my lesbian card revoked?

Some might say yes, that means you're not actually a lesbian. And to them I say: maybe not on your terms. But I'm living my life on my terms.

And the only way these people can keep me from living on my terms is to restrict my rights, suppress my voice, and if all else fails, kill me.

Which is what's happening to a lot of people like me and my partners right now.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

I think everything is a cultural performance. I think some of us were born with it, some of us discover it over time, and some of us hide it. It's an identity. It's a lifestyle. It's an action. It's a reaction. It's innate. It's a choice.

Until we figure out a way to quantify attraction, we'll continue to attempt to categorize it. I don't know why I'm not attracted to most men. I don't know why I feel femme in a butch's arms and butch in a femme's. I don't know. I can't explain. It may be a nonanswer, but I hope I've given you things to think about, anyway.

[blxckdragonfly]

Hold My Hand (Darkness Finds You Universe #9)

(Song: "Hold My Hand" by Lady Gaga.

Pairing: Chris Motionless & Lycia Winters "Pronunication of her name-- "Lai-shuh" (played by Ana De Armas)

Trigger Warning: Grief, Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: When the week of the anniversary of Lycia losing her first love, Marcus when he burned himself alive is on the horizon-- Chris takes Lycia away for a much needed vacation to Paris.

Word Count: 5,790

Spotify:

A/N: And we're back! In this piece, there is a nod to my Doctor Strange series (with this song being Kat and Strange's), so I hope you enjoy the easter egg if you find it too. Co-written with @blackrose-92! x Tiger)

Lycia and Chris’s Home: Scranton, Pennsylvania– March 10th, 2023. 

The dreaded 72 hours are here again. I thought as I lay flat on my back in bed, I felt the familiar weight of grief and sadness settling on my chest, as if my heart were being crushed by an invisible force. I knew why, two days from now would be the day that Marcus was taken away from me. 

My mind flooded with memories of his kind face and gentle soul, I thought of how the flames had consumed him, never being able to do anything but sob from the sidelines. I pictured his face in my mind, contorted in agony from the smoke and the heat and tears streamed down my face. 

The pain and sorrow seemed unbearable and I felt my chest heaving with sobs. The sound of my sobs wake Chris from his slumber. He stirs and immediately opens his eyes, feeling a twinge of sadness as he sees tears streaming down my face. He moves closer to me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to him in an embrace. 

“Shh, Lycia,” He murmurs softly as he strokes my hair. “You’re alright. You’re safe.” 

I continue to cry into Chris’s chest, clinging desperately to him as if I never want to let go. Chris felt a pang of sorrow in his heart as he realized why I’m crying. He runs a hand up and down my back in comforting motions. 

“It’s almost time for your cycle again, isn’t it?” Chris asks softly, referring to my 72 hours of non stop grief. I nod silently against his chest, unable to find the words enough to express the grief that filled my heart. Chris holds me tightly to him as I hear him whisper that everything’s going to be alright. 

I let out a deep sigh and allowed myself to relax against Chris’s chest, I finally found solace in knowing that someone cares enough for my pain and understands what I’m going through. For now, that was all I needed; the assurance that someone would be there for me during these difficult three days. Chris then smiles warmly at me as he takes both of my hands in his own. He looks like he has a plan and he’s determined to make it work. 

“How about we take a vacation abroad?” He suggests softly as he gives my hands a gentle squeeze. “I know it won’t change things, but it will at least be a good distraction.” 

I look up into Chris’s calming brown eyes, surprised by his suggestion. His thumb wipes away my tears as I nod slowly in agreement with his idea. Chris leans in close and kisses my forehead before continuing: 

“Wherever you want to go, honey,” He said, gently. “I’ll take you.” 

I sniff as I look up at him, the pain of missing Marcus still evident on my face. But there was something else there too, a spark of hope that maybe this vacation could help ease some of the pain I feel inside. I think for a moment before I speak again. 

“Paris might be a good idea,” I suggest softly, more so to myself than him but Chris hears and smiles encouragingly before kissing my temple. 

“Let’s do it then.” Chris says and hugs me to him.  

Paris, France: March 11th, 2023.

The next morning, Chris has booked tickets for us both. We would be leaving soon for Paris. I couldn’t quite believe it. I’m so excited and I’m so touched to have such a loving boyfriend like Chris. 

We arrived in Paris, everywhere I looked there were reminders of what I had lost; memories of Marcus that threaten to break my heart again. Despite the sadness that threatens to overwhelm me, I couldn’t ignore how beautiful everything is. The Eiffel Tower towered over us, the Seine River sparkles in the sunlight and even the cobblestone streets are a reminder of France’s rich history. 

Everywhere, there’s beauty and yet it also fills me with a pang of grief. Chris watches my reactions somberly, his heart aching for me– I know he had lost people he loved but not his first love like I have, which even makes it a bit painful for him too. He pulls me close to him, wrapping his arm around my waist. 

“Come on, baby,” He replies softly. “Let’s find something fun to do.” 

I nod hesitantly as he led me away from our hotel towards a nearby park. As we walk along, hand in hand, I can feel myself start to relax a little; Chris’s presence makes everything seem okay somehow. We spent the day exploring various parts of Paris together; visiting art galleries and taking boat rides along the Seine, simply enjoying each other’s company in the city’s many parks and gardens. 

Finally, as dusk started to settle, we found ourselves back where we had started– at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Chris turns to look at me, he smiles softly before pulling something out of the pocket of his leather jacket, tickets for us both to go up into the tower. My heart melts and tears of happiness, not sadness fill my eyes. 

“Babe…” I breathe out a gasp. “You didn’t.” 

Chris smiles and takes my hand in his. “I did,” He whispers softly, his eyes twinkling with admiration and love. The two of us make our way up to the tower, stopping periodically to take photos or just take in the breathtaking views that Paris had to offer. 

As we reach the top, we stand together looking out over the city, both of us feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. We both know this moment is special, it would be something that would forever be remembered in my mind. Finally when we have taken enough pictures and taken enough memories, we turn to leave the tower– but before we could do anything else, Chris suddenly pulls me into his arms and kisses me, deeply. 

The kiss is full of passion and emotion and when we finally pull apart– I feel like I’d been launched into the heavens above. Chris looks deeply into my eyes, his love for me evident in every breath he’s taking. 

“Lycia,” Chris says softly. “This place is special to us both. I know it can’t replace the memories you had with Marcus, but I want to create new ones with you here. Paris will always be a reminder for us, a marker of all that we’ve gone through together.” 

To tell me you need me

Hold my hand, everything will be okay

I heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey

I feel my heart swell with emotion as Chris speaks; I couldn’t believe how lucky I am to have such an amazing person in my life. I smile up at him before leaning forward and kissing him again, our foreheads touch as I run my fingers through his blonde hair to his tattooed jawline and neck. 

“Even though I miss him,” I reply in a murmur, my voice nearly a whisper. “Being here in Paris at this moment with you is so special to me; you might not know it but every day that you’re with me, Christopher Cerulli, you fill that empty space in my heart that Marcus left.” 

Chris smiles warmly at my confession before cupping my face in his tattooed hands and kissing my forehead tenderly. For a moment, the two of us just stand there, looking out at the city of Paris, with only the sound of our breathing to fill the silence between us. 

Finally, he pulls away slightly and looks into my yellow-green hazel eyes. His brown gaze is full of love and admiration as he says softly: “I love you, Lycia. I can’t promise the world or that everything will be perfect but I can promise you that I will always be here for you and you will never be alone, no matter what happens.” 

I smile up at him in response before reaching up and pressing my lips to his once more in a kiss full of passion and emotion. I feel like I can really feel Chris’s love for me in that moment and it makes my heart flutter with joy. When we pull apart, neither one of us wanted to leave just yet, we wanted to stay there forever looking out over Paris from atop the Eiffel Tower. 

Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms

I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long

But eventually, we have to make our way back down and Chris takes my hand in his as we descend the steps together. As we make our way to the bottom, Chris and I pause to take one last look at the Eiffel Tower before we turn away and make our way back into the city. 

I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over the sadness I had when we’d arrived because of my grief over Marcus, but as I walk hand in hand with Chris, I feel like nothing can go wrong when he’s by my side. 

We continue our walk through the cobblestone streets of Paris as we make our way back to the hotel that we’d been staying in. As I walk, I couldn’t help but marvel at how amazing it feels to be here in Paris with Chris; it’s like all of my sorrows are melting away. 

To tell me you need me? I see that you're bleedin'

You don't need to show me again

Suddenly, I pause in the midst of our walk and look up into his loving chocolate brown eyes. Before either one of us could say anything, I lean forward and press a kiss on his lips, making him chuckle as he pulls away and raises an eyebrow at me quizzically. 

“What was that for, honey?” Chris murmured as I shrug my shoulders coyly with a smile. 

“For being the best boyfriend I can ever ask for,” I whisper lovingly. “Thank you for making me feel better, Chris and for all of this; bringing me here to get away from my grief.” 

Chris smiles down at me before placing another tender kiss on my forehead as he wraps his arms around me protectively. He then pulls away slightly so that he can look into my eyes with an emotion filled gaze before speaking quietly: “Of course. You know how much I love you, Lycia. I will always be here for you.” 

As we stand there, embracing each other in the middle of the cobblestone streets of Paris, I’m overcome with a feeling of immense gratitude towards Chris. I never thought that I’d find myself in love with someone again after going through the tragedy of losing Marcus and yet, here I am, in Paris with Chris Motionless, the fearless frontman of Motionless in White; a man who could have had any woman he wanted but here he is, loving me and supporting me unconditionally as I battle my sadness. 

I pull away from our embrace so I can look up into his eyes and smile, then leaned forward to press another gentle kiss on his lips before resting my forehead against his; he then sighs contently and wraps his arms around me again tightly, pressing a kiss against my hair as if to reassure himself that I’m really there. 

But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you

I won't let go 'til the end

The two of us remain like this for some time until finally I pull away yet again and look up at him with bright eyes full of love and adoration. 

“I feel so lucky to have you,” I say quietly. “Thank you for being here for me.” 

Chris smiles down at me before placing a soft kiss on the top of my head once more before pulling away so he can look into my eyes with an expression filled with emotion. 

“No one has ever made me feel the way that you do, honey,” He whispered hoarsely before leaning forward to gently press our lips together again, this time for much longer than before. “And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he breathes against my mouth when we pull apart again. 

So cry tonight

But don't you let go of my hand

You can cry every last tear

I couldn’t help but feel my heart melt with happiness at his words as tears spring in my eyes and I smile back up at him lovingly before throwing my arms around him again, gratefully. We hold each other like this until finally we separate yet again and begin walking toward our hotel, hand in hand. 

When we arrive back at our hotel, Chris led me to our room and opens the door for me so that I can go inside, he then follows closely behind me as I take in all the enchanting details of our room; from the luxurious bedding that adorn an ornate four poster bed in colors of white and blue to the view out of the window which overlook some of Paris’s iconic architecture. 

Finally, Chris steps forward and wraps his arms around me from behind as he rests his chin on my shoulder before speaking softly into my ear: 

“Lycia,” Chris whispers into my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin and making me giggle. “I’m so lucky that you’re mine.” 

I feel my heart flutter with emotion and I turn in his arms to meet his brown gaze, feeling a wave of love wash over me. Chris leans forward and places a passionate kiss on my lips and rests his forehead against mine. He trails his fingers gently down the side of my face before speaking again. 

I won't leave 'til I understand

Promise me, just hold my hand

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” He says, his voice overflowing with sincerity. “You’re also the bravest and strongest too. You’ve been through so much tragedy and nearly left this world because of it. I’m so grateful that you chose to be with me.” 

I melt into Chris’s embrace as he holds me close to him, taking delight in the warmth of his strong arms around my body and letting out a sigh of contentment as tears stream down my face. 

Chris brushes them away tenderly with one hand, never once breaking our gaze until finally I bring up a hand to cup his cheek, thumb tracing his tattooed jawline before I lean up towards him and gently press our lips once more in a sweet and passionate kiss that seems to go on forever. 

Eventually we pull apart again and Chris continues to look deep into my eyes; smiling softly as he speaks. 

“Baby,” Chris whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “I love you more than words can ever say and I’m so thankful that you’re in my life.” 

I feel my heart swell with happiness at his words and without thinking, I lean forward and kiss him again. I never want to leave this moment, being here in Paris with the man of my dreams. 

“I love you too, Christopher Cerulli,” I murmured. “I’m just as thankful that you’re in my life too, if not more.” 

Chris smiles at my words and leans his forehead against mine, our noses touching lightly and our eyes close as we take a few moments to simply just be together. I hear Chris let out a faint but content sigh before he speaks. 

Raise your head, look into my wishful eyes

That fear that's inside you will lift, give it time

“You’ve been everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner,” His voice is soft, warm and loving. “You make me happier than I could have ever imagined.” 

I smile up at him and I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body close to his. I feel safe and secure in his embrace, free from the world’s troubles, free from my mourning over Marcus and just overlooking the view of Paris from their hotel room’s balcony and just being in the moment with him. 

Chris slowly places feathery kisses down the side of my face, making me giggle before he gently places one on the corner of my lips, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the taste of my kiss before eventually pulling away. 

“I want you to know that no matter what happens in life,” Chris says seriously, looking deep into my eyes as though trying to convey his message through them alone. “I’ll always be here for you, Lycia.” 

I can see everything you're blind to now

Your prayers will be answered, let God whisper how 

I nod and after I kiss him sweetly on the cheek while I take a photo of our gorgeous balcony and view of the city to post on Instagram, we both settle down into our stunning hotel room in Paris for the night.

liked by pewdiepie, itsmarziapie, jensenackles, jaredpadalecki, lilithczar, malakaiblxck and 5,720 others

lycia.rosee: When the best man in the world brings you to Paris to help you feel better because he knows how hard this week is... I love you so much, babe. 🥺🖤🇨🇵 chrismotionless

chrismotionless: I'd do anything for my woman. I love you too, honey. 🖤

After ordering some vegan dinner through room service, we snuggled up to each other and watched movies on the couch until finally sleep came to claim us both. 

Magic Circus Tattoo-- Paris, France: March 12th, 2023. 

The next morning, I wake up first and smile at the sight of Chris still sleeping beside me. I carefully got out of bed, trying to not wake him up. I change into a red bodysuit, a black faux leather skirt, fishnet tights and a pair of black boots, after putting my hair into a ponytail and grabbing Chris’s faux leather jacket– I head downstairs to the lobby for breakfast, after a delicious of vegan crepes and oatmeal with fresh fruit, I decide it’s time for my long-awaited surprise tattoo since Chris and I had passed a tattoo shop near our hotel. 

I have been planning this since before we left for Paris and I know that it has to be done here, after everything Chris has done for me. I quickly make an appointment and soon enough, I’m in the chair with my arm stretched out in front of me. 

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself why I’m getting the tattoo in the first place– for love– and smile as the artist starts working on a sketch of a beautiful purple rose on my right arm above my elbow. Once it was finished, I ask the artist if she could add one more thing– two small letters, ‘C’ and ‘L’ above the rose which stood for mine and Chris’s initials together, symbolizing our bond and love for each other. 

The artist nodded and began engraving those final touches onto my skin before announcing that my tattoo is done. I beam with pride as I look at my new tattoo and marvel at how beautiful it is and how much it means to me. I can’t wait to show Chris when he wakes up. 

To tell me you need me, I see that you're bleedin'

You don't need to show me again

Later that morning, I walk back into our hotel room to see Chris is finally awake and is going through his emails on his laptop, he looks over the screen as he sees that I have a huge smile on my face. He raises a brow at me. 

“What’s up with the smile?” Chris asks as I grin and take off his leather jacket and set it on the couch.

“You brought me here as a distraction from my grief for Marcus,” I speak in a soft but loving tone. “This is my way of saying thank you.” 

Chris’s chocolate brown eyes widen as I show him my new tattoo when I sit beside him on the bed. He stares at it in awe before finally looking at me with a gentle smile on his face. 

“It’s beautiful, Lycia,” He says, reaching out to trace the outline of the purple rose and the letters with his fingers. “I’m so proud of you.” 

I smile and nod as I tell him all about my experience in the tattoo shop, from my initial idea to how I wanted to include our initials in as well. Chris listens intently as I speak, nodding along and occasionally squeezing my hand in a comforting gesture. After I finish talking, we just sit there for a few moments in comfortable silence before Chris speaks up again. 

“I know that Marcus was your first love,” He began quietly. “But I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that I’m your last love.” 

But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you

I won't let go 'til the end

Tears prickle in my eyes as I look up at Chris with a mixture of gratitude and love. I reach up and cup his face between my hands before I lean in to kiss him passionately. After we broke apart, the shock of Chris’s words still linger in the room. 

“I did not think that that was going to come out right,” Chris chuckles softly as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “But I’m so glad it did.” 

I smile before giving him another lingering kiss, this one gentle and slow as I wrap the arm that wasn’t hurting around his neck. When we finally pull away from each other, I look into his eyes fondly. 

“Even if it didn’t come out right, I’d know exactly what you meant, babe,” I say with a giggle. Chris smiles back at me before leaning in for one more kiss, both of us savoring the moment before I go and start the aftercare of my new tattoo.  

The Paris Catacombs: March 13th, 2023-- Paris, France.

The next day, Chris and I decide to take a tour of the Catacombs underneath Paris as recommended by Zak Bagans, who I’ve become good friends with after working with him on multiple photo shoots in the past for Ghost Adventures. I wear my “Dark Room” black and white striped bodysuit and “Avenged” pleated skirt from Disturbia, the same fishnets I had worn when I went to get my tattoo, and my black combat boots. 

Chris was not particularly excited about visiting a dark and eerie graveyard even though he does like the aesthetic of a graveyard, he’s holding onto his breath like he’s crossing a cemetery as we walk inside after buying our tickets until I notice him doing it and I speak up. 

“Babe,” I say as I shake my head. “This is not going to help you at all.” 

Chris let out the breath that he has been holding on to and he gives me a sheepish grin. 

“Well, you never know,” He says, passing off his fear with jokes as we continue our exploration until we reach the walls of human skulls and bones, one particular wall has a white cross on it. Chris’s apprehension changes to excitement at the sight of seeing so many bones in one place and he grins. 

“We need to film a music video down here,” He looks around in awe. 

So cry tonight

But don't you let go of my hand

You can cry every last tear

“Baby, I don’t think the bones would be able to handle your music,” I say with a laugh. Chris thinks about it for a moment and nods in agreement, knowing I’m probably right.

As we take photos by the wall of bones, we stop by the gate leading further into the tunnels which means our tour has come to an end and Zak had told me to not take another step. 

As I’m looking at the walls of bones, I suddenly hear a shriek of terror coming from Chris and I see that he’s gone. When I finally catch up to him, he’s standing by the entryway to the Catacombs, sitting on the steps in a panic. 

“Babe? Are you okay?” I ask as I kneel beside Chris, he shakes his head and looks up at me, I can see his face is pale and his eyes are wide with terror as he sips on a water bottle because he’s nauseous. 

“I fucking hate Zak Bagans,” Chris mutters under his breath and I chuckle, but seeing him so pale makes me feel so bad.

“What happened in there?” I ask as I run my fingers through his blonde hair. He sighs as he tries to calm his racing heart. 

“I heard what sounded like a female voice in there,” Chris explains. “I thought it was you but when I saw that you were on the other side of me and looking at the walls, I panicked and I ran out here. That scared the living fuck out of me.” 

“Dammit, I should have had Zak send me a spirit box,” I mutter under my breath and Chris hears me, his eyes widening. 

“You– What?” I laugh as I shake my head at him. I wrap my arm around his tattooed neck.

“Never mind, it’s alright,” I say soothingly. “Let’s just forget about it and head back to our hotel room.” 

Chris nods in agreement before we make our way out of the Catacombs, once we’re out in the fresh air, we both could tell how heavy it was inside and Chris lets out a deep sigh of relief which I can only smile at him in an amused response. 

When we arrive back at our hotel room, Chris takes off his shoes and flops down on the bed with exhaustion while I walk over to him after taking my boots off, I sit down on the bed and he lays his head on my lap. I run my fingers through his blonde hair while I start texting Zak about what had happened. 

I won't leave 'til I understand

Promise you'll just hold my hand

Chris closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to ease the tension he’s feeling. My fingers gently running through start to comfort him and he slowly begins to relax into me. 

We stay like that for a few moments until my phone buzzed with a text back from Zak. 

“I texted Zak,” I say softly. “He found it amusing when I told him that you said you hated him and he said not to worry and to just say your prayers, you should be fine.” 

Chris shakes his head at me and opens his eyes to glance up in slight surprise that I have reached out to him so fast. He seemed better that Zak wasn’t mad and he knows that no matter what happens, I have his back. 

“Of course he did. Thanks Zak,” Chris mutters and I start to giggle as he leans his head back in my lap, closing his eyes against me. 

I begin to hum a song by Selena, “Dreaming of You” as I move my fingers from his hair to his tattooed jawline, tracing the lyric to Saturday Night by Misfits. 

“Mm, what song is that?” Chris mumbles into my lap, making me smile as I continue my pattern with my fingers. 

“Dreaming of You by Selena Quintanilla,” I murmured. “It’s one of my mom’s favorite songs, she used to sing it a lot when I was little. Something about the way she would sing comforted me when I’d be feeling scared. I thought it might help.” 

Chris smiles in appreciation at me as he enjoys the comfort of my touch as the fear he had while being inside the Catacombs starts to fade away, my humming has come to an end and I begin to sing the lyrics to him softly, my voice sweet and gentle like honey. 

"I just wanna hold you close, but so far, all I have are dreams of you..."  My hand moves down to trace his tattooed arm as I continue to sing. "So I wait for the day and have the courage to say how much I love you. Yes, I do." 

I can see Chris starting to melt against me and feel more relaxed than ever as we both lay on the bed in our hotel room and get settled for the night. 

“Lycia, honey?” Chris asks as he reaches for my hand, taking it in his own and laying a soft kiss on my knuckles. I hum in response and look over at him now that he’s laying beside me. “How have you been feeling since we’ve been here? I don’t think I’ve seen you shed a single tear over Marcus this entire trip.” 

Hold my hand, hold my—

Hold my hand, hold my hand

I'll be right here, hold my hand

Hold my hand, hold my—

Hold my hand, hold my hand

I'll be right here, hold my hand

“I’ve been doing alright,” I say quietly. “It’s not easy but I’m trying to keep it together.” 

Chris smiles and moves to brush away the few errant strands of caramel brown hair from my face. He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip as he looks into my yellow-green hazel eyes before leaning closer, our lips brushing against each other’s before our kiss deepens, I press myself closer to him as if seeking reassurance that he’s really by my side, that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. 

When we broke apart, I looked up at Chris with a small smile on my face. 

“You promised me that you’d be my last love,” I whisper. Chris nods and returns the smile. 

“And I meant it, babe,” He spoke in a gentle voice as he ran his fingers through my hair. “I’m here for you and I promise I will never, ever, break that promise.” 

I give a relieved sigh as I snuggle closer to the warmth of Chris’s body and feel him wrap his arms around me, protecting me from anything that comes our way. I can feel myself becoming more and more relaxed by the second as I let out a content breath. 

But even then I knew that that dreadful day was upon me again without even glancing at any type of clock that it’s midnight– March 14th. Three years since I’d lost Marcus as I feel a wave of grief coming on. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too,” I murmured into his shoulder as tears fell down my cheeks as I let out a shaky breath, trying to contain the emotions that threatened to overtake me. Chris tightens his grip around me and presses a kiss to the top of my head. 

“Lycia. Hey. Sh, don’t cry.” Chris says softly with a sigh as he brushes away a few stray tears from my face with his thumb before pressing our foreheads together in an intimate gesture of love and understanding. “You won’t lose me. Do you hear me? You don’t ever have to worry about that, honey.” 

I sniffed and nodded as I cling tightly onto him, afraid that he would disappear if I let go of him. I still couldn’t shake the fear that one day Chris would be gone just like Marcus. 

“I’m so scared,” I whisper brokenly into Chris’s chest as more tears fall down my cheeks. “I’m scared and I hate feeling like this.” 

Chris runs his hand up and down my back as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

“I know, baby. It’s alright,” He whispers softly. “It’s okay to be scared.” 

Chris looks over my shoulder and he sees that it’s midnight on the clock beside the nightstand and he understands why I’m crying now. It’s the anniversary. He holds me close as I wept softly against him, we stay like that until morning. 

I know you're scared and your pain is imperfect

But don't you give up on yourself

Chris gently wipes the tears from my eyes as I look up at him with a look of sadness mixed with hope in my eyes. He gives me a soft smile. 

“Hey, I know how hard this is for you,” Chris murmured. “But you have to keep going, alright? You’re strong, stronger than you give yourself credit for and I believe in you, definitely.” 

The corner of my lip curls into a small smile as I nod before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Chris’s lips.

“Thank you, babe,” I whisper against his lips before snuggling closer to him to seek comfort from him. Chris returns the kiss before pulling back to look me in the eyes with a loving expression. He brushes away some stray hairs from my face before reaching out to cup my face in both hands, gently brushing his thumbs over my cheeks. 

“You are so strong,” Chris says softly as he gazes into my eyes with adoration before leaning forward again to press his forehead against mine. “And I will always be here for you.” 

As comforting as hearing that, it didn’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. What scared me the most was that one day I would wake up and I’d find Chris like I had Marcus... And it would be all my fault.

“You won’t leave me, right?” I sniffle as I look into his soft brown eyes, the gesture tugging on Chris’s heartstrings. 

Chris lightly strokes my hair and places two gentle kisses on my face– kissing away my tears. 

“Sh, you don’t ever have to worry about me leaving you,” Chris whispers. “I’m here for you always and I’m never going anywhere.” 

I finally pull away from Chris and meet his eyes with a soft smile on my face. 

“Promise? You won’t leave me like Marcus did?” I say with apprehension in my voice. Chris smiles reassuringly at me, taking both of my hands in his tattooed ones and giving them a squeeze before bringing them up to his lips for a gentle kiss. 

“Honey, I promise,” He says firmly as he looks directly into my eyes. “I always keep my promises, you know that. I’m never ever leaving your side because you know I love you. I will always love you, Lycia Rose. From now until the end.” 

I've heard a story, a girl, she once told me

That I would be happy again

My heart melts at his poetic promise and I bury my face into his chest, Chris smiles as he rests his chin on the top of my head as he holds me, and I know that it pushes away my irrational thoughts. He’s here and he will always be here for me and that’s all I need to make it through this. 

"I love you too," I whisper as he kisses me softly and I drift off to sleep in his arms; knowing that tomorrow we have to leave this wonderful city and head back to reality.

Hold my hand, yeah

Hold my hand, oh yeah

Hold my hand, hold my hand

Hold my hand, hold my hand

Hold my hand…