#I’M DOWN ON MY KNEES I WANNA TAKE YOU THERE

[fear-is-truth]

𝓻afe cameron x reader ┊love language — acts of service .ᐟ

your boyfriend walked into the living room, towel slung over his shoulder, still damp from his shower. his hair stuck up in that stupid way it always did when he tried towel-drying it instead of using a dryer. you glanced up from your place on the couch, where you were seated cross-legged with your phone precariously balanced on one knee.

“you’ve got… that thing again,” you said, waving vaguely at your head. rafe frowned. “what thing?”

“the little chicken tuft. it’s like a baby bird trying to take off.” rafe let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair, which only made it worse. “better?”

“much worse. it’s got a mind of its own now. i fear we may need professional help.” you replied solemnly, setting your phone down and scooting to the edge of the couch.

“i wonder. do you even like me?” though his lips twitched at the corners. you grinned, pushing up to stand on the seats. “mmm. jury’s out. but i’m trying to save your dignity here,” before he could protest, your fingers were threading through his damp hair, smoothing the wayward strands into place. he tilted his head slightly, eyes dropping to yours as you worked with an unnecessary level of focus.

“you don’t have to take this so seriously, y’know,”

“do you wanna look like a pigeon mid-molt? no? then hold still.” he huffed out a laugh, hands settling on your hips as you finished. “there. handsome as ever,” you declared, stepping back and wiping your hands on your thighs.

“that’s all you needed me for? to restore my dignity?”

“partly,” you admitted, smiling, before pointing to the coffee table. “also, that stupid jar of salsa won’t open.” he just shook his head, reaching for the jar and twisting it open with ease. “wow. look at you, big strong man,” you admired the way his biceps flexed. “does it feel good to know you’re way stronger than me?”

“immensely.” handing it back, he added, “do you even try before calling me in for this kind of stuff?”

“i loosened it,” you chirped, setting the jar down and flopping back onto the couch. “c’mere, i need to show you something that’s going to change your life.”

“oh, for fucks sake,” rafe groaned, but still sat beside you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“it’s about otters holding hands while they sleep so they don’t float apart,” you explained, pulling up your phone.“sounds riveting,” he deadpanned, but his arm slid around your shoulders as you clicked the instagram reel.

“it is riveting,” you argued, leaning into his side. “you’re about to feel things.”

“i feel like you’re the strangest girl i’ve ever met,”

“thank you. that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” you replied, resting your head against his chest. rafe sighed, somewhere between exasperated and fond, pressing a kiss to your temple as the reel played. despite his complaints, his hand traced lazy circles on your shoulder.“okay, fine,” he muttered after a while. “it’s kinda cute.”

you smiled against his chest, triumphant. “told you.”

[potchi-fics]

note: this is all i got cus im really busy this week. ill probably write them having sex soon, just not right now. listened to do i wanna know by hozier while writing this

      the warlord, ambessa medarda, has never encountered someone bold enough to stand their ground against her.

til she met you. an empress of a nation, never afraid to stand up for your people. so when you held your chin up high, chest out, gaze never wavering when you spoke to her, it sparked interest within her soul.

“pride like yours is a death sentence, general. i cannot give you what you want as it endangers my people.” not once did your voice falter, you bring your hand to gesture to your guards, “leave us. escort the general’s as well.”

a wolfish grin takes over her features, “is that your way of saying that you want me all to yourself, your majesty?” her eyes never left yours even when her men are gone, “i must say, i have some thoughts about professional entanglements.”

“arrogance, pride, egotism. thread lightly, general.” you cross your legs on where you sit, the back of your hand supporting your chin—your throne, looking down at her, “i will simply propose a contract. one that would…benefit both our nations.”

you see her raise an eyebrow, the scar above just barely stretching. “and what is that exactly?”

“resources. i know your kind, general. you desire to have power, to control, to take over, and i will not simply let that happen. i will lay down hell on you if you even dare to think of doing that to my land.” eyes devoid of warmth or life, you threaten the warlord standing before you, taking notice of her tensing shoulders, “i know that you are capable of doing that, however, IF we do come to that, i’m afraid the effects of the aftermath will last for more than a lifetime to our nations.”

ambessa’s glare sharpens, your words striking a nerve, “it is not wise to threaten me, your majesty.”

“i am not.”

“what do you call that?”

“the truth.”

      you are bold, confident, daring; it sends shivers up her spine. you are staring daggers at her from where you sit, unmoving, assessing her from head to toe. she should be insulted, but she’s not.

oh, she will have you. 

“i am in agreement with what you have proposed, your majesty.” she bows her head, refusing to kneel to you. 

      you swear on your life that you will have her on her knees for you. 

you rise to your feet, descending down the stairs to stand in front of her, she never took her eyes off of you. ambessa leans down as you signal for her to do so. gently, you take her face in your hands, turning her head to the side so that you can press your cheek against her.

her towering figure presence easily overshadows your entire frame. but you are not intimated—matter of fact, it entices you. 

your whisper caresses her ear like the wind, “wonderful. consider this a treaty of peace, general.”

      the faintest sensation of her jaw clenching against your cheek reaches you. you are playing a dangerous game; dousing a fire with fuel never ends well.

she slowly wraps an arm around your waist, her fingers lightly grazing against your back.

“careful now, lamb.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself. 

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would. 

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different. 

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer. 

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee. 

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it. 

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm. 

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?” 

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.” 

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.” 

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” 

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is. 

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.” 

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam. 

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will? 

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in. 

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder. 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet. 

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines. 

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it. 

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier. 

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind. 

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where. 

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina. 

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!” 

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach. 

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving. 

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?” 

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement. 

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!” 

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on. 

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.” 

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you. 

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin. 

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?” 

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open. 

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. 

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.” 

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.” 

“I think it’s plenty dry.” 

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you. 

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” 

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?” 

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him. 

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.” 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him. 

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?” 

“Is the water nice?” 

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.” 

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots. 

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat. 

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes. 

“Jumping off the roof!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?” 

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip. 

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours. 

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.” 

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought. 

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you. 

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him. 

“That was…exhilarating.” 

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.” 

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face. 

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot. 

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you. 

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel. 

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.” 

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.  

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.” 

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box. 

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!” 

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response. 

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends. 

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles. 

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.” 

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!” 

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.” 

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself. 

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t. 

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights. 

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire. 

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening. 

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan. 

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here? 

The answer is a mystery even to you. 

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser. 

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner. 

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him. 

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now. 

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.” 

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—” 

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.” 

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?” 

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you. 

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?” 

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.” 

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary. 

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted. 

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones. 

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to. 

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.” 

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.” 

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” 

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.” 

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you. 

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.” 

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids. 

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand. 

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.” 

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.” 

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?” 

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.” 

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.” 

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?” 

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.” 

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.” 

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

“He thinks?” 

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.” 

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right. 

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?” 

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?” 

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.” 

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.” 

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.” 

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good. 

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being. 

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[wxwrites]

Get Jinxed

jinx x reader (fluff, making out, hand in pants... it's not that bad, fem!reader) (this is really short im so sorry)

men, minors dni

Far too caught up in your own work, Jinx decides that you're gonna take a break.

"Come on, shoot faster Just a little bit of energy, yeah I wanna try something fun right now I guess some people call it anarchy,"

“Jinx, for fucks sake, please turn off the radio,” you hiss tiredly, sending her a sharp glare as you pull your gaze up from your blueprints.

She whips her head around with that annoying, toothy smile. The one that she uses when she knows that you’re already annoyed. Finding a way to push your buttons is like… her favorite thing ever.

“Aw, c’mon toots, you don’t like my music?” She teases, leaning over the table you’re both sat at, propping her chin up on her hand. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” She continues to chastise you, earning herself an irritated huff and eye-roll. 

“Nothing, Jinx. I’m just… just tired,” you answer, dropping your pencil onto your paper and rubbing your face frustratedly, a weak attempt to push away the brain fog.

She cocks her head to the side and gives you a sympathetic pout before turning down the volume, the once blaring stereo is now a quiet hum. “I think that you need to take a break,” she announces and her voice pitches up excitedly– like she has an idea. 

You give her a weak smile and shake your head, “I’m alright bluebell, I’m almost done,” you reply, smudging the graphite that had accumulated on the side of your hand onto your jeans. As your attention had been caught by the offending powder, you hadn’t realized that she snatched your pencil from the surface of your sketches.

“Jinx–!” you exclaim, immediately shooting your hand out, trying to snatch the pencil back from her slender hands. “Ah, ah, baby,” she tuts, waving the pencil mockingly. She throws it behind her before leaning back over the table with a sly smirk over her face. 

She grins before she pushes herself back, scraping the legs of the chair across the floor as she stands up. You lean back in your chair and eye her curiously, watching as she slowly treads towards you, carrying the same sly expression. 

“What’s your pretty head comin’ up with, now?” You ask, shifting the chair around so that you’re pulled away from the table and now facing her. You tilt your head back slightly as you watch her closely, trying to ignore the borderline hungry look in her eyes as she stops in front of you. 

She leans forward and braces her hands on the back of your chair and you feel one of her braids brush against your knee as it falls over the front of her shoulder. “I still think you need a break,” she responds quietly, “and I’m bored.” She finishes, settling herself into your lap. Her breath ghosts across your lips, causing you to let shiver lightly.

You hum out contentedly as you feel her weight relax onto your thighs. “Are you?” You murmur, immediately reaching up to hold her waist. Her hands remove themselves from the chair and one moves to the back of your head, and the other to your shoulder.

She nods in response before pressing her lips to your cheek gently. She peppers your cheeks in soft kisses, cradling your head gently. You feel her grin against your skin as you finally begin to let out quiet chuckles, your sour mood from earlier finally lifting. 

“‘M sorry for snapping earlier,” you mumble tiredly, tilting your head back so you can look at her properly. You reach up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, gently stroking your thumb over her cheek.

“It’s alright, sugar,” she replies, moving her lips from your cheek to your own lips, sighing softly at the contact. Months worth of fighting the ongoing conflict and dealing with Silco’s death has left little-to-no room for any quiet moments for yourselves.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss as much as you can. “Missed you so much, pretty,” you say, nipping at her bottom lip. She continues to let out pleased noises as you press your mouths together. You release her cheek and move it to her hip, grasping it tightly. 

The kisses are needy and sloppy as she continues to hum and moan quietly into your mouth. “I’m gonna do somethin’ about that attitude of yours, though,” she threatens teasingly, reaching down to unbuckle your belt.

As her hands fumble with the clasps she continues to press your lips together, grinning triumphantly as she undoes it. “You can do whatever you want to me,” you reply, sliding your hands down her back and onto her ass, gripping tightly as you roll her hips against yours. 

“I’m sure you'd let me,” she taunts, watching you hungrily as she slides a hand beneath the waistband of your pants. She grins wickedly, biting her lip as she watches your mouth drop open in a moan.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

When Castro leaves, there’s no buffer left to you. As usual, you have no defense against this man. You feel Bucky watching you as you avoid him.

You take in the decor. As nice as it is, it’s just another reminder of the distance between you and this man. He has everything and you have nothing. You are entirely at his whim. 

He sighs and you sense the subtle shift behind you as he stands. You glance over your shoulder as he strips off his jacket. He stretches his neck to either side and it pops. 

“May as well get settled, doll, too late to send you off now,” he drawls. 

You face him entirely and nod. Resignation isn’t such a new feeling to you. He looks at you with a fire in his eyes. He comes forward and you plant your feet. 

“Are you excited? At all? A wedding? A wardrobe? The most powerful man in the city?” He stops before you and tilts his head. 

You stare at him and open your mouth. You should lie to him but you can’t force the words out. Despite your speechless gape, he doesn’t appear disappointed. He cups your cheek and his tongue peeks out over his lip and he considers you. 

“I respect that. You’re too honest for your own good.” His thumb brushes up to your temple. “So I’ll ask the big question, do you think... do you think I’m handsome, doll? I have been told I got nice eyes but I got a lot of people around me who will tell me whatever I wanna hear.” 

You flinch and narrow your eyes. You feel a dimple pinch. He smirks. 

“You think that’s funny,” he states. 

“I guess. You don’t need me to answer that, do you?” 

He takes a breath, “maybe not but I’d like to hear it from you.” 

You look down then flick your eyes back up, “yes, you are handsome, Mr. Barnes.” 

He snickers and brings his other hand up, cradling your head gently. “And you’re gorgeous, baby.” You scrunch your face and clucks, “don’t make that face, you know it too.” 

“Barnes--” 

“Bucky,” he insists. 

“Bucky,” you echo wistfully. 

“Hey, I know I gotta treat you right or one day you’ll find someone to take care of me--” 

You shove him, not thinking. His words lash you like a fiery whip. He takes a step back, though you know that you truly can’t impact him that much. 

“Don’t you dare—How could you say that to me?” 

His eyes drift placidly then spark as they fall on you again, “you play innocent with everyone else. It’s perfect, but not with me. I know what you’re capable of.” 

Your nose tingles, “you don’t understand--” 

“I don’t?” He arches a brow. “I don’t understand the bruises on your neck or the desperation in your voice? I didn’t deliver you exactly what you wanted on a platter?” 

“Why are you doing all this? What—do I have to get on my knees and thank you?” You step forward then stop. You sneer and drop to your knees. You clasp your hands together with a clap. “Oh, Bucky Barnes, the King, thank you for putting that gun in my hand. Thank you for taking those years of abuse and twisting them into your prize. Thank you. Is that good enough?” 

He looks down at you. His expression is clear, calm. He holds out his hands. 

“Get up,” he demands. 

“No, you want me on my knees. You want me beneath you. To know that I owe you this life.” You tug but he doesn’t let go. “I don’t want it. I never did. I just wanted... I wanted my sisters to be free.” 

He slowly bends his knees and lets you go. He comes eye level with you as you take a breath. He scoops you up in a single motion and you cry out. He hikes you up, turning you sideways in his arms. You push on his chest, your other arm stuck against him. 

“Barnes--” 

“Why don’t you just call me James then? If you’re going to act like my mother,” he growls as he marches past the sofa. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--” 

“You meant it. Goddamn it, doll, that’s as genuine as you’ve been with me. Don’t think I’m stupid,” he takes you into the foyer and turns up the large staircase. You wriggle as panic swells in me. 

“Please, I’m... I don’t know what I’m doing. I told you--” 

You voice fizzles as he remains silent, his expression stone. You look down and shudder in his embrace. He carries you to the second floor and down a hallway. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the four-postered bed, dropping you onto the plush cushion. 

“All you need to worry about knowing how to do, is keeping me happy,” he snarls. “That’s it.” He glares at you with a fearsome leer. “I told you, all I want is you. Not your lies, not your groveling, just you.” 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, “I...” you search his face. “I don’t know how to give you that.” 

He steps closer and bends over you slowly. A hot breath plumes from his nose as he plants his hands on either side of you. You drag yourself up on the bed and he lowers himself to trap you there. He leans in until his nose touches yours. 

“You don’t gotta try so hard,” he brushes his nose on your cloyingly. “You just gotta... be...” his traces down to your cheek, nuzzling you. “Doll,” he tilts his head to nibble your lower lip. He growls and pulls on it until it slips free. 

He frames your chin as he comes down onto an elbow. He crushes his lips to yours and you hum in surprise. His tongue begs for entrance and you easily abide his plea. His hand slips down to your throat as he invades your mouth. Like everything he ever taken, he claims you with brute force. 

[betsj]

Stress Is Bad For The Brain

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

🌷🧺*:･ warnings: smut, blowjobs, female reader, use of good girl and baby

🌷🧺*:･ summary: The Heart Pirates have been underwater for the longest. Trafalgar Law is stressed and he hasn’t been able to grab you at all… only quick grabs and make out sessions. After things settle more, you take the time to visit him in his office

🌷🧺*:･ im a fein for law.

He couldn’t take any more of this waiting. The little touches, kisses and smirks you gave him… it was too much.

If the crew—Bepo, Shachi, Penguin—any of them! Took you away from him one more time, he was going to teleport them into the ocean and drive away so he can fuck you all over the ship (of course he would go back and find them). It’s not like he would tell you this anyways but, yeah, that’s what he would do!

ׂ╰┈➤

Hearing your voice from outside his office. Bepo was also out there

“No honey, I just got to talk to the captain privately, okay?” Just hearing your voice made him hard… which was happening, “Shit.” He cursed under his breath. Bepo whined from the outside, “Aw okay…” Once the door shut, Law turned in his chair with his tattooed arms crossed.

You smiled at him, mumbling “Hey cap.”

In a harsh tone, he said “I’m working.”

Obviously, you knew that was a lie. Putting your arms behind your back and tilting your head, “Working with an erection?” Taking your pointer finger, pointing it out. Law felt his cheeks heat up, clearing his throat, “It can be handled later.” It was frustrating for you, he never wanted to admit how bad he wanted you.

Rolling your eyes and walking over to him and in a sultry tone, “C’mon Law… I know you want your cock in my mouth.” Running your index finger along his jaw, slowly sinking on to your knees. His breath hitched, looking into your eyes, that were pleading.

“Hm… you wanna be a good girl?” He stiffened when you began to unzip his pants. Mumbling, “Yes… I’ve been wanting your cum down my throat for so long.” All that big talk from your lover just for him to have shaky hands. Law groaned as you palmed the print, licking on the wet spot that his precum created. “Can I? I promise I’ll be a good girl and make you come.” And who was he to decline?

Throwing his boxers away as soon as they hit his ankles and finally letting his hard dick out. Your eyes looked like you were about to eat him alive… wrapping a hand around the thick shaft, slowly rubbing up and down. Multitasking, of course, your tongue ran between his slit which had more precum leaking, making Law’s legs shake.

“Oh fuuckk…” His strong hand played with your hair, “Please baby… make me cum.” Giggling, flattening the tip on your tongue before finally taking him all in.

A slow pace, it’s what Law loved, mainly when you were in control. In the situation, he would’ve preferred a quick throat-fuck but you made him feel so good. “God damn, baby, I forgot how good your dirty mouth felt.” Moaning, loving how he talked… he chuckled, “Yeah? You like being a good girl?” Nodding on his dick, beginning to pick up the pace, making Law’s jaw drop while letting out a moan.

Trafalgar Law isn’t a loud man in bed, maybe a few moans and groans in your ear sometimes but that’s it. So he must’ve been real desperate to be moaning like a teenage virgin.

Looking up through your eyelashes, beginning to jerk off the part you couldn’t fit. Law began thrusting into your mouth, “Oh god—yes, good girl, I’m so close.” Pushing the back of your head, making you gag. “Want me to come down that pretty throat?” Nodding, whining on his dick, he grinned… god was he wrecked. Messy hair, cheeks pink, mouth agape, and those bedroom eyes… “Or,” Moving some hair “Come on this pretty face?” Moaning… you couldn’t chose.

So you were gonna let him decided. You picked up the pace, letting him fuck your throat raw.

“Fu—fuck, yes, ple-“ Before he could even finish his sentence, he pushed your head down one more time before coming down your throat. Law let go of you, letting you calm down, removing his dick from your mouth. “Lemme see,” Law sat up, grabbing your chin with his thumb, making you open wide. Humming, “Good girl.” You wiggled, pushing him back into the chair and sitting on his lap. “Now I need you to fuck me…”

Law smirked, “God I love you.”

Rolling your eyes and smiling, “I know.”

“Glad you know I do because Ima fuck you like I don’t.”

last sentence was inspired by smb I follow 🫶

[slut4christopherr]

—GHOSTFACE— 👻

MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pics by : @sturnlsstuff

warnings: unprotected p in v(don’t do this!!!), riding, cumming, aftercare, smuttt, pussy eating

(if i missed any please lmk!!)

summary: matt sneaks into your room at night, wearing a ghost face costume from the horror/gore movie ‘scream’

what happens will make you wet.

a/n: ive only just started writing, so anything i need to improve please lmk and also comment if you wanna be added onto my taglist! i’m tagging my moots atm 😞 i hope you guys enjoy! this is a 1 part story‼️

you talking = white

matt talking = blue

as i finish the food i just made, i place my plate into the dishwasher and close the door, the audio from the tiktok i’d left playing.

“so you got a boyfriend?”

“why? you wanna ask me out on a date”

“maybe? so, do you have a boyfriend?”

i pick the phone back up, seeing matt sturniolo, the guy who adores eating my pussy, getting edited with clips of ghost face.

i couldn’t lie, it did turn me on.

i clicked the repost button and set my phone down on the couch.

i walked into my bedroom. swearing id shut the door as it was open a little bit but i’d must of imagine shutting it

i turn on the LED’s that wrap around my walls, to a red colour

as i’m about to get in bed, i scream as i feel a pair of cold, large hands wrap around my waist

“shh ma, don’t need t’be screamin’ jus’ yet”

i recognised the voice almost immediately

“matt. i told you to stop sneaking into my fucking house!”

matt chuckles as i turn around, he holds a voice changer upto his mouth through the mask, speaking into it, his voice came out all static and raspy

“and i said i don’t care, ma, so whatcha gon’ do? hm”

the way his voice came out from that stupid little box made my legs feel weaker and weaker every word he said

“and also, why the fuck you wearin’ that? take it off.”

he points at my t-shirt, his hands grip my shoulders ever so slightly and move me back toward my mattress, i flip down onto my back as he grips the hem of the t-shirt and rips it over my head.

i go to grab his mask and pull it up and over his head and throw it across the room, the black cape over him and his jawline, making him look so good in the dim red lighting of my LED’s

his eyes darken as he focuses on my breasts, one cold hand going to cup one into it.

he rolls my hard nipple around between his thumb&pointer finger which makes me let out a quiet moan

“mmm, i fuckin’ love the sounds you make for me ma”

his pants grow tighter by the minute and he groans and slaps my tit, making me squeal.

he gets onto his knees on the wooden floor, gripping my thighs and pulling me towards the end of the bed.

i look down at him as he looks up at me with hunger written all over him

his fingers hook into my shorts and panties, as he looks up at me again, asking for permission

i nod quickly and he pulls them down at a very, very slow pace

“matt, please.. please..”

you aren’t looking at him but you can tell he has that shit eating grin on his face

“use your words ma, what do you want?”

i let out a shaky sigh

“please matt, finger me”

matt slaps my thigh as he lets my shorts & panties pool at my ankles

he rubs a finger up my slit, groaning at how wet i already am

“m-matt, stop teasin’ baby”

he takes a deep breath before diving into my slick folds, his tongue diving into my head as his perfect nose applies pressure onto my sensitive clit

i let out a moan

“mmm fuck-fuck don’t stop!”

matt doesn’t stop, all that can be heard is my moans, his groans and the slurping sound of my pussy being eaten by a man who looks like he hasn’t eaten in days

i felt a knot form in my stomach

“matt i’m gon- oh fuck- i’m-“

my words get cut off my the knot snapping as he laps my clit with his tongue, making my hips buck into his face, pushing him deeper into my heat

5 mins later…

i bounce up and down on matts large, hard cock, i used the precum as lubricant, knowing you didn’t need to use it as my pussy was literally dripping wet.

matts slender fingers dug into my skin, making sure to leave bruises

the only sounds heard is the hum of the cars driving outside, skin against skin slapping and both of our moans

“mmm- ma, m’so close”

my pussy clenches around him in response as he grips my waist and pulls me down harder onto to him

i moan as the knot in my stomach snaps for the 2nd time, my juices running down matts cock.

i feel his balls tense and his cock twitch then, hot strings of white cum colour my walls

we stay like this for a minute, catching our breath until he pulls me off of him and gently puts me on the bed and stands up, walking to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth to clean me up

“your still not allowed to sneak into my house matt”

he grins in response

“yeah? sure ma”

a/n: tysm for reading! and this was so so rushed 😭 any ideas leave them in the comments

with lots of love and big tits - mia!

taglist: @sturnshood @sturniololuv08 @sturniolosweets-deactivated2025 @sturniolospumpkin @chr1sslvtt @christmastreecake @chrisprettybaby @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisweetheart @mattscoquette @mattsmedusa @mattsstarlet @mattybsgroupie @sturnsrecord @mattsobvimyfav

[noirsdoll]

I just wanna be beaten then babied by my misogynistic husband curly :(

OH MY GOD nonnie this is so good ugh trad misogynist curly is always on my mind!! imagining him as a husband from the 1950’s… cw for domestic abuse and misogyny!

curly has an unshakeable habit of taking his frustrations out on you. anya said he was losing it, but how can that be true when putting his hands on you keeps him sane?

you are this perfect pretty thing that gravitates toward him like a sunflower on a cloudless day. exchanging vows with you was one of the best decisions of his life.

though, none of that matters when he is angry.

he can’t help it, suddenly everything you do is a problem, suddenly his big, burly, teddy bear nature becomes intimidating. he is so much bigger than you, stronger than you, more capable than you— and he makes sure you realize that, littering you with bruises of his own making.

curly tells himself that he does it out of love, that this is the only type of correction that women understand—and you do listen. you never make the same mistake again. you squeeze yourself into something small, dismissible, something that looks pretty slotting into his side in public.

he always invalidates your feelings whenever you get upset. dumb thing, you don’t even realize it because he’s saying it to you so sweetly. “don’t worry, sweetheart. just focus on what you’re good at, yeah?” which is cooking and cleaning— those are a woman’s job in curly’s eyes. he handles everything else for you.

and it’s not all bad. when curly calms down and the red fades from his vision, his rough hands turn so gentle. he takes a knee at your level where you’re crumpled up on the floor, smoothing your disheveled hair from your eyes, gingerly running his fingers over each swollen patch of skin. “i’m doing this for your own good, okay honey?” curly loves you, he really does.

he never truly apologizes or takes responsibility for what he did, but he fucks you so sweetly the following night, trailing kisses over your purpled flesh and calling you his “perfect little housewife.” and the way you squeeze around his dick is the perfect reminder of why he keeps you around.

[minionpilled]

Viktor waking you up! °ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

Viktor x !male reader

Cw: none!!

Just wanna say this is probably not gonna be the best writing. I wrote this after a tough day to calm me down and I wasn’t in the best mindset while writing :(( sorry if this is too corny or anything😢also I apologize if these translations are incorrect, as I do not speak Czech.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Your woken up by a small shake on your shoulder. It takes you a minute for your eyes to adjust and become aware of your surroundings. You fell asleep on the couch again. You look up to be met with Viktors face. He gives you a warm smile. “Good morning, moje láska.” You rub your eyes as you sit up, Viktor patiently waiting for you to fully wake. “What time is it?” You ask him, your voice comes out gravelly. You clear your throat. “Almost 1:00, my dear. You went to bed late.” Viktor sits down beside you and places a hand on your knee.

“I made us some coffee.” Viktor places two steaming mugs on the table in front of you two, as well as some creamer and sugar. “Thank you.” You smile at him before giving a soft peck on his cheek. Viktor gives your knee a slight squeeze in approval. He reaches behind him for a blanket and drapes it over your shoulders. “I have to say, I was a little disappointed when I didn’t find you with me this morning.” Viktor frowns, tracing your jawline with his finger.

“I’m sorry Vik, I guess I was too tired to walk up to our room. I’ll try to go to bed earlier tonight.” Viktor moves slightly and places his lips on the top of your head, kissing it gently. “That’s alright. I just get worried for you sometimes. I love you a lot, můj princi.” He reaches down to pour some creamer into your mug, just how you like it. “I love you too Vik.” You pick up the mug, blowing at it to cool your drink down before taking a small sip. You rest your head on Viktors shoulder. He places his head on yours. You sit like that for awhile until you fall right back asleep.

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 3

A/N: Writing fight scenes are HARD AND I TRIED MY BEST IMSOSORRY. SHORT AND SIMPLE I GUESS. Also I just wanna note that this fic is gonna be a semi-slow burn cause I don’t plan on ending this fic too soon. 

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, BEGINNING OF TOXIC CODEPENDENCY 

Word Count: ~ 4.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the announcer calls out Violet’s name, she cracks her neck and knuckles before walking to the center of the ring. The crowd is hollering for her, and she looks around at the blinding lights. The light amount of alcohol in her system made it all less overwhelming; it’s just another day. She looks forward to beating the absolute hell out of her opponents. She needs this. She needs to blow off the steam that consumes her entire being. 

Her opponent was then called to the ring, a burly dude twice her size. He laughed at her as he took his place in front of her, looking down with a sneer. Vi puts her fists up and wrinkles her nose slightly while she glares up at her opponent. The second that the bell rings, the thug strikes first. 

Violet feels the ache of the blow onto her forearms. With a yell, she deals a blow to his gut. He snarls at her, kicking her to the floor. Violet rolls, avoiding being stomped on by the brute. She springs to her feet from a lying position, but the foe avoids her kick-up. The evasiveness of the challenger fuels her rage. It gives her a speedy boost, and the cartilage of his nose crunches upon impact, quickly speckling her face with warm crimson. He staggers backwards with his hand over his nose, leaving a window of opportunity. She uses all her might to tackle him to the floor, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees. Her fists fly to his face, painting her knuckles red. He manages to sit up, using his strength to free his arms and shove her off of him. 

The two continued to fight it out, the two of them paying no mind to the heckling of the audience.

*

“Who ya betting on?” A somewhat raspy female voice asks you. You briefly glance at the cloaked person next to you before quickly turning your attention back to Vi. 

“Vi,” you answer, your eyes glued to the fight before you. You’re at the edge of your seat struggling to keep yourself from springing to contribute to the crowd yelling at the fighters. That guy is huge! There’s no possible way that this would end well for everyone betting on Vi. 

“You seem pretty tense. You got no faith in her, or what?” she asks in a somewhat playful tone. You look at her again, but her hood is shadowing her face pretty well. You can only make out the glow of red-violet irises. 

“I haven’t placed a bet before, so I’m a little nervous,” you turn away again.

“I’ve been betting on her for a while. She almost never loses, so you’ll be fine,” the cloaked woman says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “You’ll be swimmin’ in cogs in no time!”

The crowd and yourself exclaim at the sound of Vi’s opponent’s jaw cracking. You cover your eyes, cringing at it being loud enough to hear from where you were sitting. The thud of the brute’s body onto the floor signified the end of the match. The cloaked woman laughs, jumping up from her seat and cheering at the scene. Most of the crowd cheers harder when Vi is announced the winner.

You couldn’t stop yourself from cheering at the success of the fight. You were utterly relieved that you probably would not have to resort to stealing. The audience starts to disperse to collect (or to give up) their gambled cogs.

“So, where do I go to collect the–?” you wanted to ask the woman, but she was gone. You look around in a daze, trying to find her among everyone else. When that failed, you just followed the happiest looking people in hopes that they were on their way to do what you also needed to do. 

*

Violet meets up with Loris outside of the arena. She takes the black leather jacket that he was holding on to for her, muttering a thank you before donning it. 

“You walking home this time?” He asks as they walk together against the crowd.

“Of course not. We’re going out again,” she says without even looking at him. Her eyes remained straight forward towards the path of her favorite bar.

“You don’t think we should give it a rest this time, Vi?” He asks. 

Violet scoffs and shakes her head, “No. My body and hands are fucking killing me. I need something to numb it all with.” 

Loris stays silent, not wanting to argue against it. He has tried to convince her to cut back on the alcohol before, but it mostly ended in her cussing him out for it and drinking a lot more than normal. Other times she just ignores him. This whole situation was not fine— to him, at least. Vi usually pays for his drinks which would normally make him happy, but his concern has been growing because it seems like she is indulging more and more every day. It’s been getting hard for him to watch her go down this kind of path, and she refuses to get herself out of that downward spiral.

“I might sit this one out tonight,” he says, “but I’ll be in the area to make sure you get home safe as usual.”

“Yeah, just leave,” Violet growls bitterly, shoving her hands in her pockets and walking a bit faster, “You never want to hang out anymore.”

“I’m still here for you, Vi,” he says, hovering his hand over her shoulder, but he stops himself and drops his arm to his side instead, “just be safe. Alright?” He slows his pace, watching Violet walk ahead of him. 

Loris pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, dragging his hand down his face as he slows to a stop. He then saw that Vi had stopped in her tracks in the distance. He followed her gaze to people in line collecting their winnings. He shrugs, turning on his heel. There’s no use trying to figure out what Vi might be thinking over there.

Violet is frozen in place and absolutely fixated.

You are collecting your earnings from the bet you placed, fighting the urge to get too giddy about it. You think about going home, but the thought of your little rush of happiness crumbling into ash once you enter your apartment and remind yourself of things…

It’s better to celebrate instead. It has been a few days since you had a little drink after all. You pocket your tiny windfall of cogs and head towards that party strip of Zaun. 

You weren’t too worried about being mugged for your earnings because some people were already preoccupied with fighting each other over larger bets. You personally didn’t get too much; eight cogs can only help you win so much. You make a mental note to stay vigilant in the future once you can afford to bet a little more and win much more.

You look around the street as the neon lights reflect off of your (s/c) flesh. You didn’t have the intention of spending too much money—you have to start saving up for next month after all. Better yet, you have to start saving to at least move apartment units. That might take for-fucking-ever, but at least it would feel like a fresh start after all you’ve been through in that shitty relationship. You stand aside to let other people walk by and do a little eenie-meenie on your surroundings, and chance leads you to select that bar you visited a few days ago. Must be fate.

You cross the street towards that bar with a little pip in your step. Your mind was preoccupied with which beverage would be the best (and not too expensive) to celebrate the success with. The bouncer let you in, not seeming to recognize you. Luckily you arrived a bit early, so the dance floor and the bar were not too busy. You quickly sat at the bar before it could get any more occupied.

“I’ll start off with some water,” you say to the bartender. Zaun’s tap water was far from clean, but you didn’t want to accidentally upset your head and stomach like you did the last time. You’ll deal with your potential kidney problems when you’re older. 

You were given a plastic cup of good ol’ plain Zaun water. You took a little sip; already used to the strange aftertaste of it. You drum your fingers on the counter while you think about what kind of poison you want. 

The barstool next to you scrapes against the floor which makes you shut your eyes automatically. There were plenty of other empty seats at the bar, yet someone decided to choose the seat right next to you. On instinct, you rotate your stool just a tad to send a silent message that you were not interested. 

“Two shots of raspberry vodka,” says the voice next to you. Your eyes slowly open upon hearing that familiar voice, feeling the whoosh of air from the bartender walking by to grab some shot glasses.

You slowly turn your head, instantly recognizing Vi. You had no idea that Vi frequented this bar in particular. In fact, you didn’t expect her to even be here or in the party district at all given how brutal that fight was. Regardless, you didn’t stare. There’s no way she would remember you, right? She was absolutely intoxicated! You were pretty out of it yourself, but you were able to remember that night. A part of you felt a bit anxious about if she actually remembered the conversation you two had that almost resulted in her getting aggressive with you. You quickly glance at her again to see if her ‘handler’ was with her, but he wasn’t. Shit. 

You grab your cup of water and take another sip as you feign cluelessness.

The bartender returned with Vi’s shots, and she slid one towards you. It clinked against your water cup right when you put it down. You look at Vi, who was already in the middle of drinking her shot. She put the empty shot glass down, clearing her throat. She turns her head to look at you, her eyes calculating.

“You seem familiar,” she tells you, resting her elbows on the counter. This less shitfaced version of her didn’t seem that bad, but you did just watch her break someone’s jaw not even an hour ago.

“I don’t know a damn thing about you,” is the best response you can give her, but you say it in the most polite tone you can muster without it sounding too fake. Your statement jogs her memory a bit, and you pick up on the glimmer of recollection in her eyes. She looks at the cup of water you protectively held in your hand, her fuzzy memory of you clearing up a bit.

You grab the little shot glass that she slid to you, giving her a nod of acknowledgement, “Thank you for the shot, by the way.”

Violet glances at the water cup you set down before looking back at you again. 

“What was your name again?” She asks as you down the shot.

“(Y/n),” your tone was careful, still unsure of her intentions. Even if she was a little more sober than the first time, you shouldn’t let your guard down.

“Ah, I remember,” she says gently, “Listen, whatever I said to you the first time. I’m sorry for it. I don’t remember exactly what I told you, but…” she trails off. 

You just nod, “Thank you for your apology, Vi.”

It was so unusual to see a tough looking girl like Vi— who beat the absolute crap out of a dude who towered over her— sound so gentle and sincere. Despite her intimidating, punky appearance, she seems pretty alright.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before she speaks up again, “So you came to watch the fight, huh?” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water.

“I honestly thought you were a goner the moment I saw that guy walk into the ring, but you ended up wiping the floor with him.”

Vi chuckles, feeling unusually shy. She has had plenty of people compliment her on her fighting, but for some reason it hit just a tiny bit different coming from you. 

Vi opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke up first, “I’m also sorry, by the way. It was rude of me to assume things about you. For all I know, you could just be having a good time every day in your routine. And… there I go again. Assuming stuff.”

But you were right the first time. Vi couldn’t remember exactly what you said before, but she remembered feeling very defensive over it. 

“Water under the bridge,” she shrugs. 

There was another moment of silence. The awkwardness was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

The bartender comes by and gives Vi a bottle, “Here’s your usual.”

You look at the bartender and ask him to surprise you with anything. 

Vi takes a swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. You smile a bit, trying to strike up a conversation to break the silence, “You must be pretty popular at this bar. The bartender already knows what you like.”

She shrugs, her facial expression hardening just a tad, “It’s nothing to be too proud of.”

Whoops! You weren’t sure if that insulted her. 

You then looked at her hands, then at her face, “Are you in any pain at all? You seem to keep it together pretty well.”

Violet was caught off guard by your question, “Yeah, I am,” she averts her gaze. She knows that you probably meant physical pain, but it felt good to hear somebody ask her a question like that. If only you knew about the emotional pain that she was in. She would love to talk about it; there is a sense of comfort in sharing things with a stranger after all.She wasn’t sure how to instigate that conversation. A part of her was still feeling embarrassed for how her first impression might have been to you.

You simply nod in acknowledgement, unsure what to say. Should you say sorry? Would that be weird?

The bartender returns with some kind of cocktail for you. Violet looks at it curiously, then watches you take a sip. It tasted kind of nasty, but oh well. You contemplate just leaving because it didn’t seem like Vi was receptive to conversation at the moment. But your curiosity kept you planted to the barstool. After all, Vi is going to be your ticket to keeping yourself fed and housed.

“So, what’s the secret to winning every fight? Besides being the strongest person in the ring,” you inquired.

Vi seemed to relax a bit, and you couldn’t help but notice a sense of relief in her eyes and body language, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to fight you,” she joked. You laughed a little bit, happy that Vi seems a bit more relaxed.

“I wouldn’t want your hands to hurt even more than they probably already are,” you snorted. 

The two of you sit with smiles on your faces. You try to down more of your disgusting spiked sugar water, physically recoiling after a mouthful of it. Vi snickers at your reaction to it, then curiously surveys the inside of your glass after you set it down.

“What even is that?”

“I don’t even know. Dumpster water with syrup, probably,” you explained, drinking some water.

“May I?” Vi reaches for your beverage, and you nod. After she takes a sip of your mystery drink, she puts it down and shakes her head, “Wow, yeah. That’s pretty bad.”

“Here,” you hand her your water cup. She takes a sip of your water, staining the rim of it with black lipstick. She looks into the cup of water, her face softening. 

“Hey, (y/n),” she begins, her eyes still glued to the cup of water, “Could I confide in you about something?” 

A rush of nervousness flows through you, but you tilt your head curiously.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get out of this cycle. It's like... fighting, drinking, rinse and repeat. But nothing ever changes,” she sets the water in front of you, grabbing her own drink and rotating it in her hands. She shifts in her seat, fingers drumming against the glass. You stay quiet, waiting to see if there is anything else she wants to share.

“That’s just how I feel right now. Thanks for letting me spew that on you,” she takes a long drink from her bottle.

You look down at your own alcoholic beverage, “If I’m being completely honest with you, Vi, I came here to celebrate because I needed to celebrate. But I’m honestly not so sure what I’m celebrating anymore.”

“You’re trying to numb something, aren’t you?”

Your eyes quickly darted to Vi, your eyebrows raised in surprise, “Is it obvious?”

“You’re not the only one,” she commented, “I guess we have something in common.”

She holds out her bottle to you, and you hesitate before taking it from her and giving it a taste. It was definitely better than the concoction you were trying to stomach. 

The bar was starting to get progressively noisier, and the music was gradually being cranked up. The two of you have to lean closer together to keep on chatting. The bartender would come back with more drinks for Vi, but she seemed to be taking her time with drinking them. She was more preoccupied with talking to you.

“I guess I can say that I’m somewhat relieved to know that I’m not the only one stuck in a loop,” Vi shares. The two of you were so physically close that you were able to see some of the scars on her face. Her smeared black makeup didn’t completely hide some of her bruises. Some old, some new.

“I’ll tell you what makes me chase my tail if you tell me yours,” you bargain. 

Violet feels her guard wanting to come back up, but what the hell. It’s not like she has anything else to lose.

“Heartache and heartbreak,” she admits. Your mouth hangs open a bit. Vi looks at you expectantly as she waits for your own reason, “So what’s got you on repeat?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s the same as yours?”

“Hah! Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

You laugh a little, surprised by her bluntness. “Yeah, it really does.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in companionable silence. The noise of the bar swirls around you both, but it feels distant, like you’re sitting in your own little bubble.

“Are you new to getting your heart broken?” you ask her. Your eyes scan over her appearance.

Vi looks down at her clothing, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment, “I’ve been heartbroken before, but this time was different. I don’t know if I’m ready to drop all the details, though. Ugh, it’s all just so stupid.”

“No it’s not,” you interject, “it really does fucking hurt. We can feel what we want to feel about it all. Sure, we can act out. Feeling is not stupid. As long as we don’t fall further than expected…”

You found yourself being somewhat of a hypocrite. Letting yourself rot at home was one thing, but now you’re looking for excuses to go out and drink rather than pulling yourself up off the floor and facing your grief head-on. And here you are giving lectures that you wished someone would tell you. But wait! You need this. You have to go out from now on, remember? Betting on Vi’s fights is supposed to help you. This is beyond your control for sure; everything is fine. 

Vi, on the other hand, hung on to your words. In a way, you made her think about what she is doing to herself. She then wondered if you, yourself have ever been a party person before your situation. She hoped that casual drinking was a part of your routine. Or are you falling into bad habits like she is?

But the truth is that neither of you were ready to separate yourselves from this kind of lifestyle. The pain of being home and alone hurt too much. 

Vi pauses for a moment before asking, “Ever think about what comes after?” Glancing at you sidelong.

“After heartbreak?” you clarify, toying with the straw in your drink.

She nods, “Yeah. Like... do you keep looking back, or do you find something to push forward?”

You take a moment, considering her question. “I think I’m still trying to figure that out. I’m just kind of stuck. But I do know that in the end, moving forward is the only choice.”

Vi hums in agreement, taking another swig of her drink. “Moving forward sounds nice. I just don’t know what the hell that looks like anymore.”

Her words hang in the air for a beat, and you feel an urge to respond, but you’re unsure how much to say. Instead, you offer softly, “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a huge leap. Just... a step at a time.”

Vi looks at you, really looks at you, her expression somewhere between skeptical and thoughtful. “A step, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “Baby steps. Like... sitting here and actually talking about it with someone.”

For a second, you think she might scoff, but then her lips curve into a wry smile. “Alright, you get a point for that one.”

You search for the cogs in your pocket, leaving some on the counter. Vi watches you, her face flashing with a bit of anxiety, “You’re heading out?”

“Yeah, I gotta go home before it gets too late. Plus, it’s getting too rowdy here.”

“I can buy you another drink,” she offers, pushing your cogs towards you.

“Agh, nah. After what I was just given, I don’t think I’m in the mood for any more.”

“Let me pay for your drink, (Y/n). It’s the least I can do for your company. You shouldn’t have to pay for a drink that sucks after all.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, “You don’t have your own bills to pay?”

“I get paid pretty well in The Pit. I insist,” if her voice didn’t give her away as pleading, her eyes certainly did. Her silvery-blue irises contrasted against all the black eyeshadow she wore, making them even more intense to look at. For a person who can whoop ass, she very much had a ‘kicked puppy’ look to her.

“Fine. Just this once, though,” you stand up, waving the bartender down. 

A feeling of relief washed over Vi, “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking you, “Stay safe out there, alright?”

The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of water. You leave one of them with Vi.

“It seems like you have to catch up on your drinks,” you note, “better stay hydrated if you’re going to finish all those bottles.”

Vi turned her head to the counter before her. The bartender, who was already so familiar with how much Vi drinks on the daily, had left a bunch of bottles there. All but one of them were untouched. For the first time in a while, Vi felt overwhelmed with how many beverages were waiting for her. It really put things into perspective.

“Heh, right. You should remind me to drink more water next time,” she grabs the cup of water that you left her and swirls it around.

“Next time, huh?” you echo.

“Yeah, but as long as you don’t get too naggy about it,” she replies, her voice holding just a trace of warmth beneath its usual edge.

“Alright, well… be safe tonight. It really was nice talking to you, Vi.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I needed that conversation, but I did. Thank you. You as well, (Y/n).”

As you head for the exit, you can feel her gaze linger on you. Something about it leaves you wondering what she’ll do next—and whether you’re about to find yourself pulled deeper into her world.

As soon as you step out into the street, you hear Vi call out to you. When you turn around, she is squeezing her way through the crowd of strangers.

“(Y/n)! Wait, real quick. Are you coming to the next fight?” 

“Maybe!” You shrug. Of course you were going. You need the money!

“Well, if you do, let’s hang out again.”

Vi was trying to read your face. She didn’t know if she was coming off as weird or desperate. Little did she know, you were very on board with this idea. Not only do you get to have a reason to not return to the apartment, but you finally get to make a friend. 

You nod slightly, a smile creeping up on your face, “Sure. Let’s hang out again soon, Vi.”

She watches you leave before returning to her seat. Luckily nobody decided to steal it (everybody knows that they’d get torn a new one if they dare steal the champion pitfighter’s seat). Vi looked at all the unfinished bottles before her with a blank expression on her face. She decided to finish at least two more bottles, leaving the other ones untouched. After paying for her drinks and yours, she takes the cup of water with her. 

Loris was already waiting for her outside. He immediately puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her walking, but she shrugs him off and just walks her usual route. She brought the water to her mouth and drank it, but she took her time with it compared to the way she downs alcohol.

“You feelin’ alright?” he asks, observing Vi’s movements for any signs of wasted dizziness. But she seemed a little more sober than usual, which struck him odd. 

“Never better,” Vi responds. Her tone was dry, but there was something about her energy that definitely shifted. He notices the water cup in her hands but doesn’t say anything about it. 

Vi says goodnight to her friend before heading up to her little studio apartment. The door pushed away some glass bottles. The clinking noises normally wouldn’t bother her, but tonight she groaned in frustration at them. She shoves them all to a corner with her boot and silently tells herself to throw them out tomorrow. Vi passes the old, dusty cup that you gave her during the first night and she does a little double-take. With a small chuckle escaping her lips, she stacks the new one on top of the old one.

End of Ch. 3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2

Ch. 4(IN PROGRESS)

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

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6

[yearsbecomingcool]

where did the party go? | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader

synopsis | your best friend invites you to a party & simon teaches you how to take a shot.

warnings | underage drinking, driving after one shot, slight sexual references, innocent!reader, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, reader is described as being shorter than simon.

word count | 2.8k

a/n | i am so awful at taking shots so reader is very me coded in this. i kept having thoughts of someone teaching met to take a shot like this and it felt kind of simon coded so that's where this came from. debating on writing for some of Fred's other character but haven't fully decided on who yet!! if y'all have any requests/suggestions my ask box is open!! also thank you to everyone for all the support on call me, beep me!! it means so much to get so much feedback :D

“Why the fuck is this impossible?!” You groan, throwing yet another dress to the floor, that’s the fourth one in the last twenty minutes. You’re standing in a pile of dresses and skirts you’ve all deemed too ugly to wear out tonight. Your friend, Aubrey, pokes her head into the closet and gives you a small smile. 

“You need some help babe?” She asks, pulling the door open a little bit further. She convinced you to finally try going out to a party with her.

She had sat down at lunch with a huge smile on her face, “Have I got a proposition for you!” Her tone worried you, she sounded a little too excited. 

You groan and look up from your shitty school lunch, “What is it this time?” 

“Don’t look so upset, I haven’t even told you yet! Anyway, Taylor Owens’ parents are gonna be out of town this weekend so she’s throwing a party tonight and don’t give me that look!” You’re glaring, you hate parties and Aubrey is well aware of that.

“Your little crush is gonna be there, he got off for the night to deal, he’ll definitely be making way more than whatever Grab & Bag pays him,” Aubrey explains, picking up a soggy fry from her tray. 

“Aubrey, I don't know. I’m really not a party person, you know that,” you sigh.

“You should go to just this one and if you hate it you never have to go to any ever again, pinky promise,” she smiles, holding her pinky out to you. 

You weigh your options, you hate crowds and all things loud, besides concerts for some reason…you’re not sure how to explain that but that's another problem for another time. But, if you go Simon will be there and you might finally be able to talk to him. You’ve been watching him from afar like a lovesick puppy for way too long now, if you don’t make a move tonight it’s possible that you never will. You sigh and wrap your pinky around hers in agreement. 

“Ohh hell yes, I’m coming to your place to help you pick what to wear. I love you too much to let you show up in a skirt that goes past your knees.”

“I hate everything I own right now,” you say bluntly, looking at Aubrey with a defeated look on your face. “Can’t I wear like, jeans or something?” 

“A skirt is easier to take off,” Aubrey jokes, laughing hard at the sight of your eyes widening at her words. “C’mon, give Simon something to look at that he hasn’t already seen. I know you’ve got something short and cute in there, let me look.” She pulls you out of your closet and you sit on your bed watching as she rummages through it. You sigh and lay back on the bed waiting for her to make her selections. 

“Ooh perfect!” Aubrey exclaims. Before you can even sit up you’re hit in the face with a dark purple babydoll dress you barely remember buying. 

“Um, ow?!” You pull the dress off your face and sit up glaring at her. You hold the dress up in front of you. It’s made of velvet and has white ruffles at the bottom and on the neckline.

“You’re gonna look hot in this. Very Courtney Love or Kat Bjelland.” 

You fold the dress over your arm and look up at her, “Fine…I’ll wear. You wanna find me some shoes?” Aubrey nods in response and goes back to your closet while you strip off and slip on the dress. It fits you perfectly, the hem reaching just above your fingertips. You grab a pair of tights from your drawer and slip them on as well. Aubrey lays out a pair of mary janes for you.

“I’m gonna run to my place and get ready, I’ll be back here at 8,” Aubrey says before heading out your door and leaving you alone to figure out your hair and makeup. You pull out a box of magazines from under your bed for some inspiration. You’re a fan of the messy grungey looks all your favorite artists wear. You finally land on a picture of Courtney Love that helps you make up your mind. You copy her dark red lipstick, smudged black liner, and add some mascara. You feel…hot. It’s a first for you to feel anything but fine. 

At 8pm on the dot you hear honking outside your house, you push the curtain out of the way and smile as you see Aubrey waiting outside in her beat up Honda. You head out the door, locking it behind you, and hop in the passenger seat. “You look fucking hot!” Aubrey exclaims, turning on the light in the car to get a better look at you.

You smile giddily, “Thanks…you do too. Anyone you have your eye on tonight?” 

She laughs, “Not unless Heather Watkins plans on breaking up with Ryan anytime soon.”

“We can only hope she’ll turn to her senses and give you a chance.”

“Damn right…Simon is gonna be all over you tonight y’know. I’ve seen Deena make him listen to Hole at lunch before, there’s no way that boy doesn’t have a crush on Courtney Love. You look like her but a million times hotter right now,” Aubrey says, clicking the car light back off and putting the car into drive. You fumble through the tapes in her glove compartment. You pull out a Bikini Kill tape and put it on. 

“How exactly am I supposed to talk to him?” You ask, turning to look at her as she starts the drive to Taylor’s house for the party.

“Well you open your mouth and-” Your groan cuts her off. She laughs at her own joke and rolls her eyes, “It’ll be much easier if you don’t stress over it. Just be yourself, he’ll like you.” You feel unsure, you don’t even know if he knows your name. You’ve been too shy to speak much to him. 

You’ve seen him at his work a few times and he’s always been friendly, but he’s paid for that so it doesn’t mean much in your eyes. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I’ve been pining over this guy for like two years now and he thinks I’m weird or embarrassing or-”

Aubrey rolls her eyes, “He’ll like you, trust me. Okay? And if he doesn’t you can get drunk and then we’ll go to Taco Bell and you can eat as many tacos as you want, okay?” 

“Fine…Taco Bell does sound kind of nice.” 

It doesn’t take long before you pull up in front of Taylor Owens house. There’s already dozens of people out in the grass all hanging out, the best part of living in the woods is having no neighbors to snitch when you throw a party. Aubrey finds a clear space to park and the two of you head inside, you stick close to her as you follow her inside. Some pop song you struggle to recognize is blaring from the speakers when you step inside, you both have to move carefully around the house as it’s already pretty packed. Your eyes scan across the room looking for Simon, you don’t see him but you do see his friends Kate and Deena in the kitchen. They’re leaning against the counter by the drinks talking with one another. As Aubrey leads you into the kitchen Simon comes in through the backdoor. 

“Kate c’mon, it’s your turn to take over, I’ve been out there for an hour now!”

Kate sighs, “Would another hour kill you?”

“You promised we’d switch every hour, go show those jocks your charm, there’s only so much I can do,” he jokes, nudging her towards the door. She rolls her eyes in annoyance but heads out back anyway, Deena follows behind her to keep her company. As Simon turns away from the girls his eyes land on you, he smiles wide and laughs in disbelief. “Holy shit…I never thought I’d see the day you came to a party!” He walks towards you giddily.

You laugh nervously, “Uh yeah, Aubrey practically had to drag me here…”

Aubrey looks over at you and then to Simon and then back at you. She nudges you towards Simon and looks up at him, “Y’know, they’ve never even drank before.”

“Seriously?” Simon wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you over to the booze, you look back at Aubrey and she’s smiling at you with a thumbs up. “We are gonna fix that, take your pick.” You nervously look over all the different bottles, unsure of what you might like. 

“Uhh…what do you like? I don’t really know where to start with any of this…” You answer nervously. All the different brands and types overwhelm you.

Simon pulls you closer to him, leaning forward to get a better look at the selection. “Hmm…how about…peach schnapps! He grabs the clear bottle off the island, holding it up for you. “This barely tastes like anything, you’ll like it. Trust me.” He sets the bottle back down and grabs you a pink plastic shot glass, grabbing himself a purple one. You watch as he pours you both a shot, handing yours over after. You hold the shot glass up to your nose and sniff, nose crinkling in disgust.

“Is it supposed to smell like that?” You ask, looking at him warily. 

“Oh yeah, all alcohol tastes and smells pretty gross, this one isn’t as bad as the rest though. You’ll be fine, trust me,” he smiles. You watch as he leans his head back and takes his shot. You watch how his nose crinkles at the taste as he sets down the shot glass.

“So I just lean my head back and drink it?” You ask, holding your drink up..

“Pretty much, you wanna take it fast, don’t let it sit in your mouth. If you do you’ll wanna spit it out, this one tastes a little like cough syrup so you really don’t want it sitting in your mouth,” Simon explains. 

You hold the glass up to your lips and lean your head back, attempting to shoot it back but you only get about half the shot into your mouth before you try to choke it down. Simon giggles and shakes his head, “Uh, here. Let me help you.” He grabs your chin and leans your head back, “Mouth open, c’mon.” You feel your cheeks heat up but you do as he says. He grabs the shot glass from the counter and holds it up, “Let’s try this again, yeah?” You’re definitely going to be thinking about this in the shower later. He holds the shot glass up to your lips and tilts your head back just a bit more before pouring the shot down your throat. He lets you go once you’ve swallowed it down but smiles smugly as he watches you wipe your lips. “You’ve got it for next time right?” 

“Y-Yeah…definitely,” you sputter. Your pupils are blown and you feel hot. Your eyes wander his body shamelessly. You’ve never had anyone touch you like that, never had anyone take charge like that. It lights a fire in you with only one way to put it out. Simon can tell he’s got you worked up, he looks almost proud of it. 

“What’d you think? It wasn’t too bad, right?” He asks, moving in closer to you, putting his hand behind you on the counter you’re leaned up against. 

“I-It was nice…I mean, it didn’t taste as bad when you helped me,” you say nervously, looking down at your feet and playing with the hem of your dress. His hand comes down to feel the velvet material, grabbing the hem and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. 

“I like this look on you, very…punk. It suits you.” Your cheeks heat up again at his comment, at this moment you’re mentally begging someone to turn the ac up. 

“Thanks…I don’t usually dress like this, I kind of like it,” You say softly, looking up at him. He shifts his eyes to yours, briefing flicking down to your lips then back to your eyes.

“Why don’t you? It suits you, you like it, so what’s stopping you?” He asks, continuing to absentmindedly play with the hem of your dress. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t want to stick out at school I guess? It feels easier to just blend into the background, y’know?” 

“Let’s make a deal, you start dressing however you want and if anyone says anything about it I’ll have your back. It’ll make my day better to see you walk into school wearing something like this,” he teases, letting go of the hem of your skirt.

“Fine…deal,” you chuckle, holding out your hand for him to shake on it. His grip is firm when he grabs your hand, he pulls you slightly forward as he shakes on it. You put your hand against his chest to stop yourself from stumbling forward. 

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to talk to you. I’ve seen you around school for years, you’ve always looked cute y’know. You remind me of the basketcase chick from The Breakfast Club, before they gave her that shitty makeover at the end though. You just…you’ve always looked cool, I don’t know why we didn’t talk before,” Simon rambles.

“To be honest you’ve always intimidated me a little, I don’t know why. I’ve always wanted to talk to you but I could never work up the confidence.” You can’t believe you’re admitting that to him. 

“Me? Intimidating? You flatter me,” Simon giggles, his hand comes up to his chest dramatically before he gives you a coy look.

You roll your eyes and lean back against the counter again, Simon puts his hand on the other side of you, boxing you in against the counter now. “Are you always this dramatic?”

He feigns offense, gasping and pouting at your words. “Dramatic? I am not dramatic.”

You chuckle, “You should really consider joining theatre.”

“They’d be lucky to have me,” he says cockily.

“So lucky.”

You both pause, tension thick between you two. You’re both suddenly aware of just how close you are to one another. His hand comes up to cup your face and you melt into his touch. He starts to lean in before being interrupted by Kate.

“Si! C’mon switch with me, it’s been an hour.” He sighs and turns back to face her, his hands coming down to his side, making a fist in annoyance.

“I was kind of in the middle of something, Kate!” He groans, his eyes flicking back to you as you lean against the counter. 

Her eyebrows raise and she laughs, “Oh! Were you just-”

“I was about to,” Simon cuts her off.

“Well, rules are rules right. We’ve gotta make money somehow,” she says, crossing her arms. 

Simon debates what to do but eventually sighs and gives in, “Fine. Yeah, whatever.” He;s clearly annoyed by Kate interrupting the two of you. He turns back to you and kisses you quickly, catching you off guard. When he pulls away you instinctively lean towards him, almost chasing after his lips. “Come meet me outside, I’ll need some company. Maybe even give you and your friend a little sample, yeah?” He pulls away before you can respond and slips out the back door. 

“Did you really need to cock block him like that?” Deena groans at Kate. 

“He’s done it to me before, I wanted a little revenge,” she turns to you, “No offense to you.” 

“None taken…I think?”

Before Kate can say anything else Aubrey comes up behind you and drags you away from Kate and Deena. She pulls you towards the front door, “We need to go, whatever shitty food they had is going to make me puke. Can you drive?” Her face is pale and she doesn’t look great.

“Shit, yeah. Uh, go start the car. I’ll be out in a minute, there’s something I need to do really quickly.” Aubrey nods and heads out the front. You head towards the back to find Simon sitting in a lawn chair, a box in his lap, looking beyond bored. “You got a sharpie on you?” You ask, standing in front of him.

He nods and grabs it out of his hoodie pocket, he hands it to you with a confused look on his face. You grab his arm and roll up his sleeve, you quickly write your number on his arm and toss the sharpie back into his lap. You kiss his cheek, your lipstick leaving a mark. “Call me, okay?” 

He looks at you like he could kiss you again. “Yes ma’am,” he chuckles, leaning back in the chair and watching as you run off through the gate and to Aubrey’s car.

[bropunzeling]

to motivate myself to get back into working on seattle au (i wanna be DONE by SUMMER) here is a wip wednesday snippet featuring our favorite wrecking ball, brady tkachuk

As soon as their game against the Senators starts, Leon’s certain he made the right call about not going out for drinks after. For one thing, Ottawa scores three goals on them in five minutes to start everything off, which isn’t exactly something Leon appreciates. For another, Leon gets the distinct sense that Brady did not like him slashing Tim when the refs weren’t looking, which, whatever. Tim can take it, even if he did double over. He’s just being dramatic like always.

Brady’s opinion of him seems to really start going downhill during the second, though. First, Leon manages to score, bringing them within one; next, it’s Matthew’s turn, notching his second of the night and grinning obnoxiously at the Senators’ bench as they circle around for their fist taps. Once the game gets tied up, the stupid penalties start coming—tripping on Carson, then matching cross checks for Joseph and Big Rig. Despite all that time on their admittedly shitty PK, Matthew seems to only be getting more amped, bouncing next to Leon whenever they’re not skating, barely able to keep his ass on the bench as he yaps in Brady’s general direction. Brady, however, looks steamed, red-faced as he yells back at Matthew. By their last shift of the period, Leon has the same distinct sense of looming danger as a scientist handling nitroglycerine in an earthquake. It’s only a matter of time before something blows up.

Except it’s not another goal or Matthew saying something that finally sets Brady off. No, it’s Leon, chasing after the puck in the corner, only mostly looking where he’s going and managing to knock Tim on his ass. Again.

The whistle goes. Leon groans. “Fucking Christ, Tim,” he mumbles, “stay on your goddamn feet.”

That earns him a hearty fuck you back as Tim gets to his hands and knees, but it doesn’t register nearly as much as the fist suddenly in Leon’s jersey, yanking him off-balance. “I swear to god, Draisaitl,” Brady hisses, even as the refs are trying to get between them, “if you keep targeting Tim—”

“I’m not targeting anyone,” Leon protests, trying to twist around so he can shove Brady off. “Get the fuck off me—”

“What’s going on?” Jesus, now Matthew’s here too, trying to wrestle his way into the scrum. Surely that will help. “Hey, let go of Drai—”

“Matty, I swear to god, if you can’t rein your boy in I’m gonna do it for him,” Brady hollers, still trying to haul Leon in by the neck of his jersey no matter how hard Leon tries to wrench himself around and whack at Brady’s shins. “I don’t care how much you like him—”

“Lay off,” Matthew shouts back, “Tim’s a fucking diver and you fucking know it—”

“I’m fucking warning you,” Brady says as the linesmen finally break them apart, Giroux tugging Brady back while Matthew clamps a hand on Leon’s shoulder and Lars comes in to put another body between them. “Fuck around with my guys one more time and I’m dropping the gloves.”

“Is he really gonna fight me?” Leon asks when at last the period ends and they shuffle down the tunnel to the locker room.

“Nah, he won’t,” Matthew says, in a not entirely reassuring tone. “He’s just pissed that we tied ‘em up.”

“Wait, who’s fighting?” Yanni asks as they peel off to find their stalls. “Drai, are you fighting?”

“No,” Leon says flatly.

“Sounds like Tkachuk wants to,” Adam adds in his most unhelpful tone.

“Shit, dude, the fuck did you do to tick him off?” Borgy asks. He sounds way too delighted at the prospect of Leon getting his nose broken. “Piss in his coffee? Sleep with his girlfriend?”

Leon glares at him, then grabs a water bottle full of sports drink and chugs some. “Fuck off,” he says after wiping off his mouth. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I mean, I’ll fight him if you want,” Will says. “Chucky, tell your brother I can fight him.”

“Boys, let’s talk about how we’re gonna win this fucking game,” Coach says, and thankfully all discussion of fighting Brady gets tabled.

[s0ft-d3cay]

Playful Flirtations

Leon Kennedy x Male Reader | This took WAY to long to write, what originally was an old work I wrote a few years back. I remember enjoying the concept so I rewrote it and edited it best I could. Hope you all enjoy!!

Warnings: A nice little confession(we all need one of those), both are very touch starved so there’s a lot of that, they flirt, they kiss in the end too, use of Y/N

WC: 664

Y/N’s eyes playfully squinted at Leon, arms crossed and leaned back against the red vinyl couch, facing one another on opposite sides of the private room. An older building covering in celebrity memorably, covering the walls and floor were black and white menu items, a quaint hideaway of a far away past in the atmosphere. "Are you asking if I’m single?" He asked point blank, head cocked to the side, gaze analyzing the blond.

Y/N and Leon had their fair share of close calls in the past few weeks. From meeting in passing missions, uncovering the hell that was Umbrella's fuck ups to now. It seemed the universe had a plan of its own for the both to stay close. Leon's  exhales a soft laugh, lips spreading to a sly smile. "And what if I am?" He replied smoothly.

Confidence and infatuated interest waving off him like a summer's breeze, electric blue eyes somehow glowing under the warm magenta lighting. "I am, are you?" Y/N passed back the question, grinning towards the man with a hopeful gaze. Leon wet his lips as they turned up in a giddy smile once the question was thrown back, taking him by surprise. “I am and I'd like to know more about you on a more…personal level.” Leon answers, eyes cascading over Y/N's frame with heated want.

The man's hands fidgeted with the hem of his long sleeve over the table, gaze shifting down towards their own hands. "I wouldn’t mind giving us a shot." Y/N commented softly, biting his own lower lip. Leon couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable the man was, from the nervous fidgeting to his ever-wavering kindness. Placing a large hand over the other’s, gently grasping Y/N, "Well, I'd be honored to get to know you…"

Y/N’s flushed face only darkened at the action, eyes widened as his heart skipped and swooned. "You stole my line." He teased with a coy expression, hand turning to grasp back. Fingers hesitantly clasping over Leon's fingers and palm. “I’m looking to hopefully steal something else too.” Leon teased back, his fingers playing and curling between his and Y/N fingers. The sight of the other's flushed face and giddy behavior was endearing. Realizing just how soft the man in front of him was inside and out.

"Like what?" Y/N asked back with bashfulness, a hint of mischievous coy tactics. He scoots to the edge of the seat, knees pressed against Leon's beneath the table. The man let out a chuckle, mirroring Y/N as he moved closer, fingers still played and curled between heated fingers and palm.

The warmth from Y/N's hand enticing the man to bring them up to his lips, his gaze flickering between his awaiting lips and playful eyes. "Come on Leon, I wanna hear you say it." Y/N egged on, now pressing themselves halfway against the table. Nose barely touching the man's, they're so close.

Bringing up a free hand to caress his cheek, lightly tracing over his scruffy jaw and cheekbone. Leon chuckled softly, the soft and gentle voice teasing him to make a move. It was hard not to do things to please Y/N, the man was just so alluring. He dreamily let out a sigh, eyes flickering back to Y/N’s. Gazing into them as he barely brushed their lips together. "Can I maybe steal a little kiss?”

"I’m not gonna say no to a kiss." Y/N whispered with an airy laugh, eagerly smiling bright as their blush darkened. Leon chuckled softly, tempting him further to push more buttons to tease and embarrass him. "I mean…if you want my hands and lips all over you, all you gotta do is ask.”

The Y/N completely froze at that comment, eyes growing wide with genuine surprise. Heart racing as his brain scattered in all different directions and future ideas. "Now you’re just threatening me with a good time." Y/N answered in a low whisper, leaning in to capture the man's lips with his own.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[overrboarrd]

UNBREAK MY HEART [ from scratch pt. iii ]

a/n: i’m not jinxing myself no more y’all. every time i say ima post something, i get super busy and it gets pushed back a whole week. so here’s part 4, it’s just as tense as the last part so pls don’t hate me <3

warnings: angstt

"un-break my heart , say you'll love me again undo this hurt you caused when you walked out the door and walked out of my life"

“You look like hell, uce,” Jon finally broke the empty silence that filled his living room.

Joe sat on the edge of Jon’s couch, staring blankly at the bottle of beer in his hand. The condensation dripped down onto his palm, cold and unrelenting, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging in his chest. He hadn’t planned to come here, but the quiet echoes of his own house had been unbearable. Jon’s place, noisy with the distant sound of his kids playing in the backyard, at least gave him the illusion of calm. He huffed out a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I came to hear.” Joe leaned back. The television played some highlights of last night’s football game, but neither of them paid much attention.

Jon sat in the armchair beside him, his sharp gaze pinned on his cousin. He didn’t push, not yet, but Joe knew the look. It was the same one Jon gave him when they were kids, back when Joe had tried to hide bruises he got from football practice. The look that said Jon could see right through him.

“What’s goin on?”

“Nothing.” Joe shrugged, taking a slow sip of his beer and keeping his gaze fixed on the bottle.

“Bullshit.” Jon’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a challenge.

Joe clenched his jaw. “It’s just the rehab.”

Jon’s brow lifted. “The rehab? Or Camille?”

At her name, Joe’s stomach twisted, and the beer suddenly tasted bitter. He set the bottle down on the coffee table with a thud, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, too bad,” Jon said, unfazed. “You’re here, which means you do wanna talk about it. You just don’t know how to start.”

Joe’s head snapped up, anger flaring in his chest. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

Jon shrugged. “I’ve known you your whole life. You bottle everything up, uce. Always have. You keep stuffing things down until they explode. And when they do, you the one left pickin up the pieces.”

Joe scoffed, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s better that way. Some things don’t need to be talked about.”

“Like Camille?” Jon pressed.

Joe glared at him, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” Jon said, his tone softening as his posture straightened. “Come on, Joe. What’s really goin on?”

For a moment, Joe said nothing. He stared at the wall, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t want to feel. The lime-washed wall blurred in his mind, replaced by Camille’s face—the tension in her jaw when she was focused, the way her voice softened just enough when she thought he was in pain.

But he let the words come, sharp and raw, cutting through the silence.

“Seeing her every day is like ripping open a wound that won’t heal,” he said, his voice low and strained. “She’s right there, just trying to fix my shoulder like… like none of it even mattered. Like I didn’t matter. Like she didn’t walk out on me without a damn word.”

Jon hummed, letting a beat pass before speaking. “You think that’s how she really feels?”

“I don’t know,” Joe snapped. “And honestly, I don’t care.” He leaned forward again, his hands gripping his knees. “I gave her everything, Jon. I didn’t hold anything back. I loved her, and she still left. And now she’s just…here. And I’m supposed to just… what? Pretend it didn’t happen? Pretend I’m not still pissed as hell that she didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever the hell went wrong?”

Jon leaned forward too, his expression serious. “So you gonna tell her all that? Or you just gonna carry it around, hoping she’ll figure it out on her own?”

Joe shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “It wouldn’t matter, she still walked out of that rink. I fought for her, Jon. I fought like hell after that. What’s the point of trying to bring it up?”

“The point,” Jon said, his voice steady, “is that you still care. And don’t try to deny it, uce, ‘cause I can see it all over your face. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be this angry. You wouldn’t be here, venting to me.”

Joe’s chest tightened, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Jon agreed. “But the thing is —you got a choice. You can keep holdin on to all this anger, or you can let yourself feel the other stuff too. The hurt, the love, the hope. Yeah, she left, but she’s here now. Don’t you think that might mean something?”

“The hell am I supposed to do about it now? Cause every time I see her, all I feel is this...mix of anger and—” He stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I can’t do that shit again. I won’t.”

Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Look, I’m not sayin you shouldn’t protect yourself. But you’re not just protecting yourself—you’re shutting her out. And maybe she deserves that, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe you just gotta be honest with yourself and Cam. You got her in front of you again, uce. How many people get that kind of second chance? But if you don’t at least try to talk some of it out, you gonna regret it.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of Jon’s words pressing on Joe’s chest. He didn’t respond, unable to find the right thing to say.

Jon stood, clapping a hand on Joe’s shoulder. As Jon walked back to the kitchen, Joe sat, staring at the condensation pooling on the coffee table. He hated that his cousin was right.

But knowing it and doing something about it were two very different things.

—---

Architect was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around Joe like a vice, squeezing tight and leaving no room to breathe. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead only served to amplify the emptiness. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. 7:45 PM. The place had officially closed fifteen minutes ago, but he and Camille were still here. Alone.

She stood a few feet away, her back to him as she sanitized the treatment table. The sharp smell of cleaning solution filled the air, and her movements were mechanical, almost as if she were trying to avoid looking at him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice clipped as she turned to face him. “Let’s get started. We’ll do some stretches first, then work on the strengthening exercises.”

Joe nodded, the words sticking in his throat as he sat down on the edge of the table. His body ached, not from the rehab, but from the weight he’d been carrying since the moment she walked back into his life. Almost two full weeks of these sessions, of her being so close yet so distant, had worn him down to the raw nerve.

Camille reached for his arm, gently guiding it into position for the stretch. Her touch was clinical, but his skin burned where her fingers brushed against him, igniting a fire he’d been trying to smother since the day she’d left.

“Joe, relax your shoulder, you’re compensating with your back again.” she instructed, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before darting away.

“I got it,” He snapped, his tone sharper than intended.

Camille stepped back, swallowing the urge to bite back. Instead, she softened her voice. “I know you do. But this isn’t about pushing through pain, it’s about healing.”

Joe dropped his arm abruptly, the band snapping back as he let out a frustrated grunt. “Healing?” he said bitterly, his voice low but laced with anger. “You think this is healing? Having to sit here, day after day, while you pretend like nothing happened between us?”

Camille froze, the words slicing through the professional barrier she’d carefully maintained. “Pretending? Joe-”

“I’m not gonna put up with this!” he gestured between them. “This… act you been putting on for the past two weeks. Actin’ like we’re all good. Like you didn’t just walk out of my life without a saying anything.”

Her eyes widened as her face faltered slightly. “Joe, I’m here to help you with your recovery. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back, sliding off the table. “You don’t just get to come back into my life and pretend like we’re strangers. You don’t get to act like what you did didn’t wreck me.”

“Can you just lis—”

“No,” he cut her off, creating some distance between them. His broad shoulders heaved as he turned to face her, his eyes blazing. “You don’t get to talk right now. I spent two years with you, Camille. Two years building a life, planning a future, only for you to rip it all away without even telling me why. Do you know how many nights I sat in that empty house, wondering what I did wrong? Wondering why I wasn’t enough for you?”

Her composure cracked, her lips trembling as she took a step back. “It wasn’t about you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then what was it about?” he demanded, his anger boiling over. “Because from where I was standing, it sure as hell felt like it was about me.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she blinked them away, straightening her shoulders. “You… you were everything to me, Joe. And that terrified me. I was scared of losing myself in you. I-I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“So you ran,” he said bitterly. “Instead of talking to me, instead of letting me in, you just left.”

“I didn’t know how to stay,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I was afraid I’d ruin everything. Afraid I’d ruin you.”

Joe laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well, congratulations. You managed to do that anyway.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between them. Camille’s tears finally spilled over, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I know I hurt you. And I’ve hated myself for it every single day. But you were so sure of everything. Your career, your life, your love for me… I didn’t know how to keep up with that. I didn’t know how to be enough for you.”

Joe’s expression softened, though the hurt lingered in his eyes. “You were enough, Camille. You were always enough. But you didn’t even give me the chance to show you that. You didn’t trust me to handle your fears. You just left.”

Camille’s voice broke as she replied, “Because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t think I deserved the kind of love you were offering. And by the time I realized I was wrong, it felt too late to come back.”

He'd figured this moment would come, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Joe turned away, running a hand over his face as he tried to calm the storm inside him. “I loved you, Camille. I still…” He stopped himself, his chest heaving. “I would’ve never given up on us like that. ”

“I know I made a mistake.” Her voice cracked again, and she quickly wiped at her tears. “And I never stopped loving you. I just—" Her voice rang in his ears, the rawness of her words made his chest tighten. “I don't know if it's too late, but I needed you to know that.”

Joe's eyes fell shut, his mind warring between anger and the yearning he’d tried to bury. Her confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw like a blade against his skin, carving open old wounds he thought had scarred over. For so long, he had craved those words. In the sleepless nights when the silence was louder than his thoughts, in the moments when he reached for his phone only to remember there was no one waiting on the other end. He wanted to yell, to tell her she was too late, that the man she had left behind didn’t exist anymore. But the truth… the truth was that her absence had never stopped haunting him. He stood rigid, his emotions snarled in a web of anger, longing, and something dangerously close to hope.

Camille searched his face, her own filled with fragile hope and deep regret. "I’m not asking you to forgive me," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just asking for a chance to show you that I’m not the same person who left.”

“I don't trust you," he admitted, a long silence filled the room before he shook his head softly. "But I…I don’t know if I can let you go again, either.”

[ap-kinda-lit]

I am really really really tempted to edit Atem’s return in Dark Side of Dimensions to the Deadpool rendition of “Like A Prayer”