#and it took a minute to figure him out and get a strategy

[post-abhumanism]

well, finally got my first win in a sparring match!

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

i love your virgil smut so much, dominant and size kink 😫😫 wondering if you could write the one that is similar for jude too please ❤

I know this one took me forever to upload but I had to make sure it was perfect for you guys. After 3 rewrites, I present to you...

After Hours

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — the one where you are his only desire.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 10.5k.

Warnings! FLUFF! He's down badddd, NSFW! SMUT (18+), size kink, protected vaginal sex (stay safe), oral sex (f receiving), hot sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

The Penthouse was alive with energy. Trent's birthday had drawn out the kind of crowd that made it impossible to move without brushing shoulders with someone.

Laughter spills over the booming bass of the music, blending with the distinct smell of alcohol and food wafting throughout the house. A mix of conversations buzz in every corner of the house—loud, overlapping, and relentless.

Jude leans against the far wall of the living room, eyes half-lidded as he sips from a drink he barely cares for. He wasn’t really a fan of these gatherings; too many people, too much noise. But Trent was a friend, and bailing wasn't an option.

At least not yet.

He was giving the party until midnight before making his excuses and heading out. It's 11:57. Almost there.

His gaze flickers to the clock mounted over the TV, then around the room at the partygoers. He spots Trent across the room, laughing and hugging a group of people, and smiles. He's happy his friend is having a good time.

He checks his watch again, making a silent vow to himself to stay put for at least two more minutes. He exhales quietly, thinking of how easy it would be to slip out unnoticed. He's already halfway to deciding on an exit strategy when something—someone—catches his attention.

There you are.

Standing on your tiptoes, trying—and failing—to grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen. Your brows furrow in concentration, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stretch as far as your short frame would allow, but it's no use.

The cup remains tantalizingly out of reach, and it looks like you'd been at it for a while, silently battling the shelf like it was some kind of cruel joke.

Amused, Jude can't help the smirk tugging at his lips. The scene is oddly endearing.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your curvy figure before he sets his drink down, the thought of leaving slipping from his mind. His legs move before he can stop himself, carrying him across the room with an easy stride. It takes him a second to cross the living room, dodging a couple of people on his way before finally reaching the kitchen.

Jude pauses just behind you, his height towering over your small frame. You don't notice him at first, too focused on your mission to retrieve the elusive cup.

A grin plays at the corner of his mouth as he reaches up with ease, his long arm grabbing the cup that had been giving you such a hard time.

You finally notice him, head snapping around, eyes widening as you take in his presence. You're flushed, whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Jude isn't sure, but the sight made something warm bubble up in his chest.

“Need a hand?” His voice is low, teasing, his smirk not fading.

You blink at him, brows furrowing slightly before a small, sheepish smile pulls at your lips. "That obvious, huh?" you mutter, voice soft but laced with a hint of humor. Your cheeks are a little pink, but you don't seem angry, just mildly exasperated.

Jude raises an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “I don’t know, you were getting pretty close. Maybe another few inches and you would've nailed it.”

You roll your eyes at him, embarrassment fading into something lighter. “Oh, shut up. Are you going to give me the cup, or are you just here to gloat?”

He chuckles, lowering the cup to your level. “Maybe a bit of both.”

You snatch it from his hand with a dramatic sigh, but the small smile you wear tells him you aren’t really upset. “Thanks... I guess,” you say, tone playfully begrudging. You set the cup down and turn to him, raising your eyes to his face.

There's a pause between you both as you take him in. He can see it, the way your gaze drags down his chest, over his arms, and back up again. His body responds to the attention, a spark of attraction lighting up inside him as he watches you study him.

He likes that. The way you look at him like that. He wants to see it again.

“So...” he says, interrupting your stare. “What's the occasion?” His eyes flick to the cup on the counter. “Late night tea party for one? I didn't know those were a thing.” He's not sure why he says it, maybe just to keep the light banter going. It feels like he should say something.

He watches you raise an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips curling into an amused smile. “I needed a drink. Thought it was better than bothering the bartender.” You shrug, picking up the cup and sauntering over to the fridge. He follows you with his eyes, taking in the sway of your hips, his heart rate picking up a little as he thinks of how much fun he could have with your curvy little body.

“I can make one for you if you want,” Jude offers, his voice still teasing, but there’s a new edge to it, something more playful, maybe even flirtatious. He leans against the kitchen counter, eyes following your movements as you reach into the fridge, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You glance back over your shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "You? Make a drink?" you ask, amusement dripping from your tone.

He chuckles softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been known to make a decent one or two. What are you in the mood for?”

You pause at the fridge, considering his offer for a moment before shutting the door without grabbing anything. Turning to face him, you lean back against the counter, mirroring his stance. “Surprise me.”

Jude grins, pushing off the counter as he steps closer, now standing directly in front of you. The space between you narrows, not quite enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough for the tension to feel palpable. He reaches up to grab a couple of bottles from the liquor cabinet above the sink, and you watch him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So, do you always rescue people from their beverage-related dilemmas?” you ask, your tone light and teasing, though you can’t help but admire the ease with which he moves. There’s something effortless about him.

Jude smirks, eyes flicking to yours as he pours the first drink. “Only when they look as helpless as you did.”

You gasp, feigning offense, and lightly swat his arm. “I wasn’t helpless! I was just… strategically challenged.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, it drowns out the rest of the party’s noise. “Right. My mistake,” he says, handing you the drink with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not sorry at all.

You take the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, and you feel the electric tingle of the contact. It’s subtle but undeniable, and you wonder if he felt it too.

“Thanks,” you say, bringing the glass to your lips. You take a sip, the cool liquid soothing as it slides down your throat. You meet his gaze over the rim of the cup, noting the way his eyes seem to darken slightly as they lock onto yours.

“No problem,” he replies, voice quieter now, almost intimate despite the noise surrounding you. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for a brief second, it feels like the rest of the party has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, locked in this moment.

The drink is strong, but surprisingly good. You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself.

“Well?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter with a smug expression. “Do I pass?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one. It’s decent.”

"Decent, huh?" Jude’s grin widens, a flicker of something playful lighting up his face. "I'll take that as high praise."

You shake your head, laughing softly as the tension between you both begins to shift into something easier, more comfortable. “I didn’t mean that as praise,” you tease, taking another sip from your drink.

He chuckles at the light jab, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Of course not.” Jude glances at his watch, raising his brows slightly as he notices how late it is.

He hadn’t planned to stay for long, but he was having too much fun chatting with you to leave right now. It wasn’t like him to enjoy a conversation so much, especially at a party like this. There was something about you that drew him in, made him want to stay and learn more about you.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, seeming to notice his attention on his watch.

He raises his gaze to meet yours, blinking. He shrugs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Was just about to leave, actually.”

Your smile falters slightly, just for a second. “Already? But the party’s just getting started.”

“Not really my scene,” Jude admits, glancing back toward the crowded living room.

You nod, gaze flicking back to the drink in your hand as you swirl it absentmindedly. “Well, glad you did. Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing here, struggling for that cup like a fool.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on. You were laughing at me.”

“Not laughing,” he corrects, a teasing edge to his voice. “Just…observing.”

His gaze flicks to yours, lips twitching with a grin. You arch an eyebrow at the response, but the playful teasing has you smiling again.

“So,” Jude says, suddenly changing the topic. “How do you know Trent?”

“He’s my sister's boyfriend” you reply, “You?”

“Wait! You're Y/N?” He blinks at you, realization dawning as he takes in the information. “Right. I should’ve made the connection earlier.” He laughs softly at himself, shaking his head.

You look exactly like your sister, with people sometimes mistaking you for twins. Your height was the only way for people to distinguish you sometimes. With her being 5'5 and you being 5'2.

You smile at his confusion, seeming amused by his reaction. “Yeah, that’s me. How do you know her?”

“Trent brought her to my New Year's party.”

“Oh, yeah...” You frown at him, as though remembering something. “You’re Jude, right? I think my sister has mentioned you a few times.”

He smirks at the memory, feeling something warm in his chest at the mention of your sister talking to you about him. “That’s me.”

A small silence falls between you both, the tension growing less easy now, but not quite uncomfortable. He thinks of something to say, but before he can open his mouth, you beat him to it.

“Do you want to step outside with me for a minute?” you ask, already setting your drink down on the counter.

He blinks, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. He was about to ask you to grab another drink with him when you mentioned going outside.

“Sure,” he replies finally, picking his drink up from the counter. “Lead the way.” He follows you through the crowded house, almost losing you a couple of times as you seem to disappear into the crowd. Damn, you're short.

The balcony is quieter than the inside, a couple smoking in the corner, but otherwise, it's fairly empty. The sounds of the party are muted now, a muffled background noise. The cold air feels like a welcome relief after the heat of the crowded living room.

“Nice out here,” he says as you sit down at a lounge, nodding to the empty spot next to you as he lowers himself onto it.

You smile, settling into your seat as you pull your jacket a little tighter against the chill. "Yeah, it's nice to get some air. Gets a bit suffocating in there."

Jude nods, glancing back toward the house where the sounds of the party still hum faintly through the walls. He’s relieved to be out here, away from the chaos, but more than that, he's glad you're here too. Conversation feels... easy with you, even though you've only known each other for a few minutes.

"So, you do this often?" he asks, leaning back in the seat, watching the way you absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair between your fingers.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What, escape to the balcony?"

"No, I meant..." He gestures vaguely with his drink, smirking a little. "Come to these kinds of parties."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Not really. Trent's parties are... something, but my sister drags me along sometimes. I think she feels bad leaving me home alone." You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance in your tone, just affection.

Jude studies you for a moment, noticing the way your expression softens when you talk about your sister. There's a warmth in your eyes that he hadn't seen earlier, and it makes him curious, wishing you would look at him like that.

"Seems like she cares about you," he says, tone a little softer now.

You shrug, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, she does. It's kind of nice, even if I act like it's annoying sometimes."

Jude nods, thinking about his own brother for a moment before turning the conversation back to you. "So, what do you do when you're not at parties you don't really want to be at?"

You snort softly, bringing your knees up to rest your feet on the edge of the lounge. "Oh, you know, just saving the world, one cup at a time."

He chuckles at your sarcasm, but there's a twinkle of genuine amusement in his eyes as he leans forward slightly. "Seriously though."

"Okay, okay," you relent, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm a med student, so I guess you could say I'm learning how to save lives."

Jude's eyebrows lift, impressed. "Wow, that's... intense."

You shrug, though there's a flicker of pride in your expression. "It is, but I love it. Always wanted to be a doctor."

"That's cool," he replies, leaning back again. "I bet you're great at it."

You glance at him, something in his tone catching your attention. He sounded sincere, not like the typical empty flattery you sometimes got. It makes you smile.

A comfortable silence settles between you both as you sip your drinks, the night air crisp but not too cold.

Jude watches you for a moment, noting the way the moonlight casts a soft glow on your face, making your eyes seem brighter in the darkness. There’s something calming about being out here with you, something grounding. It’s not what he expected when he first spotted you struggling with that cup, but now that you’re here, he’s not in any rush to leave.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low but warm, “this isn’t a bad way to spend the night after all.”

You glance over at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s not.” You pause, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you didn’t bail at midnight.”

Jude grins, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest again. "Me too." He leans forward, resting his arm on the back of the lounge chair. "I mean, it would have been a bummer to leave right when I'm just getting to know a woman this beautiful." He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the faint light.

You flush, dropping your gaze to your drink as you fidget with the glass. “Um... thanks, I guess.” Your cheeks are hot, but you can't help the flutter in your chest at his words.

Jude notices your blush though, and it brings a smirk to his lips. He enjoys the way you fumble with your drink, clearly nervous at the compliment. He leans back again, sipping his drink quietly for a moment before looking over at you.

"You’re cute," he says, voice dropping down into something softer, lower, more intimate. “Especially when you're embarrassed.”

The flush deepens as you look away, your eyes skipping to the floor. "I'm not embarrassed," you say, but the fact that you're avoiding looking at him says otherwise.

"Sure you’re not," he replies with a chuckle, leaning forward again.

You fidget in your seat, eyes still down. Your cheeks burn, and you’re glad for the dim lighting out here that hopefully hides it. "Stop it," you mutter, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jude laughs softly, reaching out and sliding his hand into yours. His hand is warm, calloused, bigger than yours, and his fingers wrap easily around yours. "Can't help it," he says, squeezing your hand lightly. "You're too cute."

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry as your eyes dart to his hand in yours. He's holding it loosely, not gripping it tightly, but it's enough to feel possessive somehow, enough to make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this, let alone with such intention.

Your gaze snaps to Jude's, eyes wide and slightly nervous. His eyes are darker now, pupils dilated, his mouth curved in a low, satisfied smile. His thumb presses into the center of your palm, the pressure soft, light, sending goosebumps down your arm.

You swallow again, trying to form words, but coming up with nothing. The air between you feels heavy suddenly, thick with heat and tension, your heart pounding in your ears. You glance back at the house, wondering if anyone can see, if anyone notices, but the windows are empty, the party still going strong inside.

Jude chuckles, low and soft. "You good?" he asks, voice dropping into something lower, husky.

You swallow hard again. Your eyes dart back to his, finding his still locked on yours, his gaze intense.

"Yeah, I'm good," you finally manage to get out, though your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Jude's smile widens, and he shifts closer, your thighs now touching. "Good." His hand tightens a little around yours, squeezing lightly. "Good," he repeats, his voice dipping into something even softer, more intimate before placing his now empty glass on a nearby table along with yours.

His eyes are still locked on yours, and the way he's watching you, it feels like he's looking right through the layers you’ve carefully built up. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. In a way that feels… thrilling.

You bite your lip, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your pulse races. There’s a tension now, something thick in the air that wasn’t there before. It crackles between you, electric, and you don’t know whether to pull away or lean into it.

"Jude…" you start, but your voice trails off. You’re not sure what you’re trying to say. You can’t even think straight.

He tilts his head, watching you carefully. "Yeah?"

You swallow, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, though your stomach twists in nervous anticipation. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your chest, like you’re standing at the edge of something new, something you can’t quite name. "What are we doing here?"

He smirks, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "Just talking," he says, but the way he says it, the way his eyes darken, suggests that there’s a lot more simmering beneath the surface.

You laugh softly, a little breathless. "Is that what this is?"

His grin widens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just watches you, studying the way you shift nervously in your seat, the way your lip trembles slightly as you bite it. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What do you want it to be?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. You can feel the weight of the question hanging between you, his gaze heavy with something you can’t quite place. Something that makes your skin tingle, makes your heart beat faster.

"Jude..." you start again, but again, your voice dies off.

His grin softens. "Yeah?" His hand squeezes yours lightly, his fingers brushing over your wrist as his eyes dart to your mouth.

You feel your cheeks heat all over again, and there's a sudden ache between your legs that you can’t ignore. You fidget, trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the conversation instead. “This is a little... intense, isn't it?"

He chuckles softly, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from yours now. "It doesn't have to be." His voice drops to a whisper as he looks at you. "I promise. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you don’t speak. You just look at him.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across his face—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked smile that adds a touch of roguish charm to his otherwise serene expression. His lips are full, inviting. And his eyes. Oh, how beautiful they are. There’s a way he looks at you that makes you feel like the only person in the world. You want to stare into them forever.

He's beautiful.

Slowly, you reach out with your free hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your mouth. Smell the subtle scent of his cologne—a hint of something warm and musky, with a touch of something fresh—mingling with the crisp night air.

Jude lets out a low exhale as he leans in the last few inches to meet you, pressing his lips softly against yours. They're warm and firm, gentle as they slide against yours, teasing a little with each movement. He doesn't rush it, just lets the kiss play out slowly as his hand squeezes around yours, pulling you closer.

You sigh against his mouth as he slides his tongue over your lower lip, a low noise of pleasure slipping from your throat. He groans softly at the sound, his hand shifting from yours to wrap around your side and pull you into his lap, your legs falling to either side of him on the lounge chair. You go willingly, letting him slide his arms around you, feeling him against you now.

Jude breaks the kiss after a moment, leaning back to look at you. "You taste good," he murmurs, his voice rougher now, deeper, his words sending heat flooding through you.

You flush, your cheeks warming again as your eyes drop to his mouth. "You too," you reply, barely above a whisper.

He hums softly, his fingers trailing along your side to brush against your waist. Your breath hitches at the light touch, and his hand moves again, his palm sliding down over your hips. "So fucking soft," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips. "I want to feel every inch of you."

A shiver runs through you at his words, desire burning inside of you at the promise in his voice. "Do it," you whisper, leaning in again to brush your mouth over his.

He groans, his hand pulling your crotch down to meet his. Jude's arms tighten around you, and you feel the hard length of him pressing against your core. You gasp against his mouth at the feel, your hips twitching slightly as he pushes you tighter against him. You both moan softly, your fingers tightening around the back of his head as you grind against him.

Jude pulls back with a chuckle, looking at you through his lashes. "Fuck, baby. You're going to kill me." He leans in again, pressing his mouth to yours as his hands slide underneath your skirt to cup your ass. He kneads your flesh gently, his hands rough against your skin as he squeezes. "Fuck. I knew you'd feel this good." He groans low in his throat, his tongue sliding over your lips once more.

You whimper into his mouth, heat burning in your lower belly as you rock against him. You're wet already, his touches, his words lighting you on fire. His hand shifts, one still cupping your ass as

the other slides between you to press against your clit through your panties.

A choked moan escapes you as you grind into his hand, your hips twisting against him. "Please," you breathe, breaking away from his kiss to lean against his shoulder. "Jude. Please." Your nails dig into his back at the pressure of his fingers through your underwear, his thumb sliding over your clit with each movement of your hips.

Jude lets out a harsh breath, his mouth running along your neck as his hands tighten around you. "God, baby," he groans. "I can't. There's too many people." He nips at your throat, his teeth sliding gently over your skin. "I don't want to share you. Not for one fucking second."

You cry out softly at his words, your hips bucking against his hand. "But I want you," you murmur, rolling your hips into his touch, your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Jude's hands pull away from you, one cupping your jaw as you lean back against his arm, panting. "Look at me," he rasps, his eyes dark as they meet yours. "There's no way we're going to be able to do this right here." He trails his hand over your breasts, cupping them gently as he murmurs. "I need you too fucking bad, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm going to get you out of your pants before someone realizes what the fuck is going on."

He groans, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. "Come back to my place," he whispers against your mouth, his hand slipping over your hip once more. "Let me take care of you."

You flush at his words, his touch sending fire shooting through you. Your hand wraps around his arm, fingers digging into his skin. "Okay," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes slipping closed.

"Jesus," Jude breathes out, pulling you against his chest as he leans his mouth against your forehead. "If I take you home like this," he says, his voice low in your ear, "I'm not going to let you leave my bed for the rest of the night."

You bite your lip, swallowing back a whimper. "That sounds good," you breathe out, heat flooding your body at his words.

Jude’s breath shudders against your forehead. The night air feels colder now, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You can’t help but shiver slightly, but it’s not from the cold.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent as he starts to stand, lifting you with him. His grip on you is firm but gentle, as if afraid you might disappear if he holds too tightly. You smile a little at the thought, letting him guide you back inside.

As you walk, his hand slides to your lower back, his arm still wrapped around you. Your smile deepens, and your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you notice the way he’s staring down at you. “What?” you ask, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he replies voice barely heard over the music. “I just like looking at you.”

You blush, biting your lip as you turn your gaze. A few of his friends glance at you, their gazes flicking to Jude’s hand wrapped around you before they turn back to their conversation.

He guides you through the crowd, his hand never leaving the small of your back, making sure you’re close to him. He stops by a group of friends, his mouth moving as he talks to them, but you don’t hear his words. You’re too busy looking up at him, taking in the hard planes of his face, the way his eyes flicker between you and his friends.

You don’t notice when he pulls out his phone, a smile on his lips as he types something out quickly. He slips it into his pocket, turning to wrap his arm back around you. His eyes flicker over your face, a grin playing on his lips as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “My driver is here,” he says softly. “Want to go?”

You nod quickly, heat burning inside of you. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you through the crowd again as you make your way to the door.

Jude holds your hand as he opens the door, stepping back to let you exit first. You do, walking out of Trent's penthouse and into the cool night air. The Porsche is parked at the curb, its doors already open as you step out. A driver stands next to it, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits.

You get in first, feeling like royalty as you slide into the smooth leather seats. The door closes behind you, and Jude slides in beside you. You catch a glimpse of his smile as he slides his arm around you, pulling your legs over his lap as he leans against you.

The car glides smoothly from the curb, heading down the highway toward the city. You lean back against the seat, feeling Jude's hand slide up your leg, his fingertips ghosting under the hem of your skirt. You turn to face him, grinning as you play with the collar of his shirt.

His eyes flick to your hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as you tease the fabric. "What are you thinking?" Jude murmurs, his voice thick with that same low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wondering if you always wear shirts this nice," you tease, brushing your fingertips against the fabric again, trailing lightly along the edge of his collar.

Jude chuckles, low and deep, leaning his head back against the seat as his fingers slide further up your thigh, sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

Your breath catches, and you can't help the way your body reacts to his touch. The closeness, the heat, the tension—all of it coils tight inside of you like a spring wound too tight, waiting to snap. You glance down, watching his hand inch further beneath the fabric of your skirt, teasing but never fully satisfying.

The city lights outside blur as the car speeds down the highway, a soft hum filling the silence between you. The world seems distant, fading away as you lose yourself in the moment, in him. Jude’s hand pauses, resting just at the top of your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily over your skin. It’s torture, slow and deliberate, making your body crave more.

"You have no idea what you’re in for, baby," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You grin, the anticipation coiling tighter in your belly as you press your mouth to his jaw, kissing along the sharp line there, tasting the faint hint of cologne on his skin. Jude’s hand shifts, sliding up to rest on your lower back, his fingers splayed wide as he presses you closer against him. His breath is ragged, his pulse quick under your lips, and you know he’s as affected by this as you are.

The car slows to a stop, and you glance out the window to see the entrance to a sleek high-rise building, all glass and steel, gleaming under the night sky. Jude doesn’t waste a second. He slides out of the car, his hand still gripping yours as he helps you out, pulling you close as he leads you toward the entrance.

The moment you step inside the building, the atmosphere shifts—quiet, intimate. The lobby is dimly lit, modern, and elegant, with polished floors and soft lighting. You barely register any of it, too focused on the way Jude’s fingers are laced with yours, the heat of his hand grounding you in the moment.

An elevator door opens, and Jude pulls you inside, pressing you up against the mirrored wall the second the doors close. His mouth is on yours in an instant, the kiss hot and urgent, all of the restraint from earlier gone in a flash. You gasp against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely, your body arching into his.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, sliding up your back, gripping your hips. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, making you weak at the knees. "I’ve been waiting all night for this," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and full of need.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your breaths coming fast, your heart pounding in your chest. "So have me," you whisper, your voice breathless, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Jude's eyes darken, his grip on you tightening as the elevator dings softly, signaling that you've reached his floor. He doesn't say another word. Instead, he grabs your hand again, pulling you down the hall toward his apartment, his pace quick and purposeful. Your pulse quickens with every step, the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

The door to his apartment swings open, and before you can even take in your surroundings, Jude pulls you inside, his hands already sliding under your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders as he backs you up against the nearest wall.

His mouth crashes down on yours again, the kiss rough and demanding, full of the same need that's been building inside you all night.

You arch against him, your arms looping around his neck as you pull him closer, kissing him back with just as much passion. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist tight as he presses you harder into the wall, his hips grinding against yours.

You can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, his cock straining against the fabric, sending a jolt of arousal through you. A whimper slips from your lips, and Jude growls low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw, your throat, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy." His hands shift, sliding up under your skirt to grip your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he lifts you up, his hard cock pressing right where you need it most.

You cry out, your head falling back against the wall, your breath catching as he grinds his cock against your pussy through the fabric of his jeans, the friction making your body clench tight with anticipation. His mouth is relentless, licking, sucking, and biting its way down your neck, sending waves of heat through you.

"Jude," you gasp, his name slipping from your lips on a moan.

He makes a rough sound, deep in his throat, and lifts you higher against him, his hands rough on your skin, his grip bruising. "Your ass is perfect," he mutters, his mouth traveling back to yours as he presses your hips harder into the wall, the thrusts of his cock against you almost enough to send you over the edge.

You're panting, gasping, your body trembling as the tension winds tighter and tighter inside you. Jude's hands are everywhere, groping and teasing as he devours your mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out in a rhythm that matches the thrusts of his hips.

The pleasure is almost too much, the anticipation threatening to boil over at any second. But then Jude suddenly stops, pulling back just a bit to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as his chest heaves with heavy breaths.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, his voice still low and rough, but his eyes locked intently on yours.

You nod, breathless. "more than anything" you answer honestly.

He nods once, then presses your body flat against the wall again. "Good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. It's hard and fast, almost brutal. Then, before you even know what's happening, he lifts you away from the wall and carries you away.

Jude’s grip is steady, firm as he carries you effortlessly through the spacious apartment. You barely notice the surroundings, too consumed by the fire between you, by the way his touch sets your skin ablaze. His lips find yours again, devouring, urgent, as he moves with purpose down the hallway.

You don't care where he's taking you as long as he keeps going. The feel of his hard cock against you is addictive. You arch your hips, pressing closer against him as he walks.

The next thing you know, your back hits the soft surface of his bed, and you land with a bounce, your skirt riding up your thighs. Jude stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking you from head to toe as he begins to pull off his shirt. The fabric ripples down his torso, revealing a chiseled chest and abs, taut muscles flexing beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding harder in your chest, anticipation burning through you like fire.

He’s bigger than you in every way. His hands are twice the size of yours, his biceps thicker than your thighs. He’s not a huge man, not overly muscled, but there’s a raw power in his body that’s undeniable. And you’re so tiny compared to him — so small that your head only comes up to his shoulder.

It’s not something he usually thinks about, but in the moment, it becomes a living thing. The size difference between the two of you is so apparent, so obvious, it’s hard to ignore. And for some reason, it makes Jude’s cock even harder.

Your eyes are locked on him, dark and dilated, as if you want nothing more than his hands on you. He steps closer, reaching for the fly of his pants. Your gaze tracks his every movement, your breathing quickening as he unbuttons his jeans.

You wet your lips, sitting up to lean forward on the bed. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed with heat as Jude’s pants fall to his feet, revealing his boxers, the shape of his cock straining thickly against the fabric.

You lick your lips again, your eyes drifting up to his as he kicks his pants away, standing at the foot of his bed in only his boxers. The room seems to grow hotter.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he promises, his voice low, husky, making you whimper with need.

The way he says it makes you want to agree, to give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You bite your lip, your pulse throbbing in your ears as he steps closer to you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

He hauls you close, your thighs parting automatically as his knees hit the mattress and he comes down on top of you. His mouth finds yours, his lips coaxing yours open as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His kiss is hot and wet and everything you want in this moment.

He kisses you deep and slow, his weight pressing you down into his mattress. You moan into the kiss, your tongue moving against his as you roll your hips against him. He groans into the kiss, his cock twitching against you where you're grinding against it.

His hand slides down your body, his palm smoothing up to cup your breast. You squeak as he grabs it and squeezes. He smiles against your mouth, thrusting his hips against you as you mewl and squirm beneath him.

"Fuck," he grunts, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat. He nips at your skin, sucking a mark on the skin above your collarbone.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders and he bites harder, making you gasp. The sound turns him on, his hips jutting against you like he can't stop himself.

He pulls back to look at you, a smile twisting his lips. You're flushed pink, your pupils blown wide, lips plump from kissing him.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his expression tender as he looks at you, his hands moving over you in a slow caress. He tugs your skirt down your hips, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lingerie. His hands come back up to you, running down the sides of your thighs, his thumbs brushing the waistband of your panties.

You moan as he touches you, your back arching. You're desperate for more. He laughs, his touch teasing, light as he rubs his thumbs along the edges.

"Please," you whimper, reaching for his shoulders. His hands slide up, his thumbs hooking into the straps of your bra and tugging it down your arms. He pulls it off, his gaze falling on the curves of your naked breasts. He groans as he takes you in, his eyes hot as they look at you.

He drops his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, making you cry out. His hand finds your other breast, kneading it in his palm, squeezing. You gasp, your hips jolting up at the feel of his mouth on you.

He sucks harder, his teeth raking over your sensitive flesh. You moan, your nails digging into his back as he draws on your breast.

A shiver runs through your body as his hand falls to the waistband of your underwear. He tugs them down your legs and you raise your hips automatically, letting him pull them all the way off.

You're naked now, exposed and trembling with need as he looks down at you, sprawled out on his bed. Fuck.

You look so hot. So tiny and small compared to him, it’s impossible not to feel that urge to use you, to bend you to his will. It’s been there since the balcony, his desire to own you, to take care of you, but right now, it’s almost overwhelming.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs as he runs a finger up the inside of your thigh. You part your knees automatically for him and his hand moves straight up to your pussy. He presses his palm flat against your mound, his fingers slipping through your folds to feel your heat.

"Fuck," he groans, "look at you." You can't help but look. Your body is so much smaller than his, his hands spanning half the length of your thigh.

You gasp at the touch, your head falling back against the bed as he teases your clit. His fingers slide between your folds, rubbing, parting you open to find the entrance to your cunt. He circles it, his finger dipping inside, and you gasp.

You try to roll your hips and he moves his hand, using his palm to press you still.

"Let me play with you," he murmurs. You whimper, your body shivering with the touch. His mouth comes down over your breast again as he thrusts his finger into you with a squelch. "Shit, baby you're so wet." You moan at the stretch of his finger inside you, arching up against him. His teeth graze your nipple, his lips sucking it in his mouth.

You whine at the feel of him sucking on your nipple while his finger is inside you. The dual sensations make you gasp for breath as he thrusts into you, deep, making you clench around him.

His mouth moves to your other breast and he slides a second finger inside you as he sucks on your skin. You cry out, your back bowing as he uses his hand to hold you in place.

He finger fucks you, working your body with his touch as he nips at the curve of your breast, his teeth scraping your skin. He's careful not to hurt you, but you want him to go further.

He seems to realize that as he kisses his way back up your body. He holds his weight off you on one arm, his other hand still buried between your thighs as he works your cunt with his fingers.

You gasp as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking over your g-spot as he kisses your lips. You feel the build of your orgasm in the tightening of your belly, in the way your toes curl and your thighs clench. He rubs you faster, his mouth eating at yours as he drives you higher and higher.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling through your body and leaving you trembling in his hold. You cry out against his mouth as he rides you through it, his fingers working your pussy until it's spent.

He kisses your lips softly as he pulls his hand from you, his cock still hard against your leg. He shifts his hips to the side, sliding between your legs as you lay there, flushed and panting.

His hands move to his boxers, tugging them down his hips as you watch. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of his cock, thick and long and hot. He's so big. Unlike anyone you've had before. You have no idea how he’s going to fit.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jude’s mouth moving over your stomach, kissing his way down your body. His kisses are slow, sweet and you let him, relaxing against the bed with a moan.

His lips move over your hipbones, his tongue licking the skin and you can't help the giggle that escapes. He pauses to look up at you, his eyebrow arched in amusement.

"You ticklish?" he asks. You nod and he chuckles as he moves closer. His mouth drops to your mound and you gasp as his lips place a gentle kiss on it.

"Jude," you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He moans, his lips moving over your pussy. He kisses your folds as he pushes them apart with his fingers and you arch under the touch. Your thighs part, falling open to let him have his way and he takes it, kissing along your slit, his tongue flicking out to tease you. You shiver at the feel of it on your clit and he repeats it, circling your little nub in a teasing caress.

He growls against you as he licks you open. Your cunt is wet and pink and fucking perfect. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin and you gasp, clutching at the bedding as he goes to town. He sucks on you, his tongue pushing inside, licking your taste on his lips as he drinks you in.

His hands come down on either side of your thighs, pressing them open as his mouth finds your clit and sucks. Your body jolts at the feel of his lips, his tongue flicking at you in a quick caress that has you gasping in shock.

You whimper, your toes curling as he eats at you. You've never felt anything like this before. It's incredible, the way his mouth feels on you, his tongue stroking you in long swipes.

"Jude, fuck," you gasp and his growl vibrates against your clit as he works you towards another orgasm.

It doesn't take long. You're so sensitive, so worked up already. His tongue flicks over your clit in quick circles and you burst in a rush, your whole body trembling with the force of it. Your thighs clamp down around his head as he holds you steady, his tongue still stroking your clit through it.

You’re sensitive to the point of pain by the time he eases off, licking slowly as he lets you come down from the orgasm. You whine, your legs still clamped around his head and he gently works you open, his hands soft on your thighs.

His face is wet with your taste as he comes up over you, kissing you deep and filthy, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He's hard as hell against your thigh, his cock pressing into you and you roll your hips up in instinctive need. He groans, grinding his cock against you, rutting you like he needs it.

"I need you," you pant, kissing him, your hands running down his back. "Please, I need it."

His groan is thick and guttural. "Yeah, baby, need that big cock in that tight little pussy? Want me to fuck it? Hm?" He thrusts his hips against you to punctuate his words and you moan. You gasp, your eyes going wide at the way he talks, but fuck, you like it. It makes you hot, his dirty words making you need more.

You nod, your fingers sliding down to his ass, holding his hips tighter to your body. "Yes," you agree, "please, I want it."

"Fuck, you are so fucking hot," he whispers as he leans to the side to reach for a drawer in the bed, pulling out a condom. He tears it open and slides it over his cock, his hands slick with lube as he fists himself, working his shaft. Never taking his eyes off you. Fuck. This is going to be so good.

He drops on top of you, his weight heavy on you as he braces his elbows beside your head. his hands running up your thighs and hooking underneath your knees. He pushes them up towards your chest, opening you wide and you feel vulnerable in his hold, tiny and exposed as he lines his cock up with your cunt.

"You ready for me, baby? Gonna fill you up," he growls, his eyes dark and serious as he watches your reaction.

You can only moan, unable to talk as you feel his cock at the entrance to your body, hot and hard against you.

He stops, his eyes locked on yours as he checks on you. "You okay?" he whispers.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker to his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze, cutting through the thick haze of lust that surrounds you both. The way his voice softens when he asks—it's a moment of clarity, and it grounds you.

You nod, feeling the pressure of him right there, so close to entering. "Yeah," you murmur, your voice breathy, lost in the pleasure he's giving you. "I'm okay."

Jude's lips curve into a small smile, one that only deepens the wetness between your legs. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, reassuring you. "Good. I'll take care of you," he promises, and then his eyes drop to where he's pressed against you.

You moan, your mouth dropping open as you feel him press into you.

"Ah," you gasp, looking up at him in shock. Your fingers curl into the sheets, your body not yet adjusted to his size. He's huge inside you, thick, your walls stretching to accommodate him. The burn of his penetration is almost painful and you clench around his cock instinctively.

His breath shudders, and you can hear the restraint in his groan as he fights to keep it slow. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he mutters, forehead resting against yours as your gummy walls squeeze his cock.

You can feel him everywhere. His breath hot on your neck, his hands firm on your legs, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before.

You're fucking ruined for life. Ruined for anyone else.

You gasp, your body taut and trembling, and he moans as he settles deep inside your body. His eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he gasps.

For a moment, neither of you move. His hips stay locked against yours, the both of you catching your breath. Jude’s hands caress your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there as if to ease you into this. His lips ghost over your cheek, whispering soft words you can barely make out, but you know they’re for you. Only for you.

And then he moves.

It’s a slow, gentle pull out, almost torturous in its pace, followed by a deep thrust back in. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching as you take him.

"Fuck, you're tight, baby," he pants. "Oh shit, I knew you'd feel good." He drops his forehead to yours with a groan. "But this," he thrusts, his cock moving inside you in a slow, deep stroke, "this is better than I imagined." He looks down at you, watching you as he fucks you, your cunt clenching tight around him as he moves in you. His cock fills you full, so full, and you're hot and tight and wet as hell around him, and he fucking loves it. You can see it in his eyes.

"Jude," his name is a moan as he drives deep inside you, hitting you with a thrust that makes you gasp in shock.

"That feel good, baby?" he pants, his hands sliding down to grab at your ass, holding you still as he fucks into you. You clutch at him, your arms wrapping around him. He kisses you deep, his mouth dropping to yours as his cock thrusts into your cunt. "Love you around my cock," he grunts against your lips. "It's so fucking perfect." Your whimpers make him growl.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as he fucks you harder, faster, pounding into you. The bed creaks beneath you, the air heavy with the sounds of skin against skin, of gasps and moans. You’re lost in it, in him—completely undone by the way he makes you feel.

It’s like nothing else matters. Nothing. Right now, all that exists is Jude, his body moving against yours, his cock filling you over and over until you can’t think straight.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking it so well." You can feel his words vibrate in his chest, and it only drives you higher.

It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much pleasure, and you cry out, the sound high-pitched and desperate as you clench down around him. "Fuck, fuck, baby," he growls against your lips as he feels it. "That feels so fucking good. Look at me. Look at me when I make you cum." His fingers move down to rub your clit, your pussy clenching tighter around him and he groans, thrusting into you with a growl as he tips you over the edge.

"Jude, Jude," you pant his name like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding him closer. "Oh shit!" You feel your pussy clench and ripple around him, milking his cock for everything.

Your eyes flutter, your head tipping back with a gasp as your body trembles through the orgasm. Your cunt pulses tight around his cock and he groans as he takes you through it. His thrusts become unsteady, deep and hard and fast as he pounds into your little cunt and you take it.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against your neck. "There you go. Cum on my cock, baby. That's a good girl." His mouth moves to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into you as he grunts, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He’s close. You feel it in the way he holds himself against you, in the way his breaths become short and heavy against your skin. "Fuck, I'm going to cum, baby," he gasps.

You clench down on his cock with a moan, squeezing his length inside you, and his mouth drops to yours in a hot and filthy kiss.

He fucks into you with a grunt, his thrusts quick and hard as he seeks his release. His body moves against yours in rough jerks, his cock thick inside you, filling you. He growls as he fucks, his lips dropping to your neck.

"Baby," he gasps, "fuck," he moans again, his voice so deep it’s almost a whine. You feel him shudder against you, his whole body trembling as he thrusts into you.

"You want my cum?" he growls against your shoulder and you moan at the words, your body already clenching in response.

"Yes," you gasp. "In me, please." He thrusts deep inside you at your words, his groan loud in your ear.

"I’m gonna fill you so full of it," he pants, grinding deep inside you. "So full," he grunts, face buried in the crook of your neck "gonna fill you up and then it's going to drip out of your tight little pussy."

His lips are hot on your skin as he gasps your name, his body jerking into you. "Fuck," he breathes, his hips rolling against yours in a deep grind.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he rides out the pleasure, cumming again for the fourth time that night. He groans, his hips jerking against yours, thrusting his cock deep inside you as he empties into the condom. His fingers curl into you, holding your body close as he fills you, and it’s so good.

The way he feels inside you, the way his cock throbs and pulses as he cums. You can feel it, even through the condom, and it makes you gasp. He thrusts again, groaning as he keeps going, wanting to fuck you through it as much as you do.

And then it’s over.

His body shudders through the aftershocks and he goes still on top of you. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants as he holds you close, riding out the aftershocks together.

His face moves back to yours, his lips pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Well, shit," he mutters against you. "You're amazing."

You giggle, your hands running over his back. His weight is comforting on top of you as you come down, your breaths slowing. You let him stay for a moment, enjoying the weight and heat of his body before he pulls out and rolls to the side, stripping off the condom and tossing it into a bin by his bed.

You follow him to the side, turning and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you let the afterglow wash through you. He smiles, turning to look at you and lifting his arm.

"Come here," he murmurs.

You roll onto your side, pressing against him as he curls his arm around you, pulling you close. He nuzzles into your hair, his fingers running through it as he pulls your body into his. Your leg lifts, your thighs opening around one of his as you curl into him, the softness of the bed and pillows enveloping you.

"Mmmhmm," he mutters, running his hands down your back. "God, I don't want to move. You feel so good."

You smile against him, kissing his chest. "Me neither. I'm comfortable right here."

He laughs, his chest vibrating with it. He rolls a little closer to the edge of the bed, reaching down and pulling up the blanket. He wraps it around you both, tucking it in so that it covers you completely and you're nestled into him, warm and comfortable.

"Better?" he asks.

"Mmm, perfect."

He hums, his arms coming around you again. He snuggles into you, nuzzling your cheek.

"You are perfect," he tells you, his voice gentle as he lets the afterglow take him over. His lips move against your shoulder, his hands rubbing your back and hips. "Thank you for tonight."

You smile, turning your head so you can kiss him. He moves with you, meeting you in it as his hand cups your cheek. His lips are soft and sweet, his tongue teasing yours as he kisses you back.

When you break it, you both smile and snuggle in, holding each other close.

"Mmmm," he says. "I'm gonna want to do that a lot more." His arm curls around your body, holding you close as you snuggle deeper. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," you tell him. "That was amazing."

He grins, his body relaxing as he holds onto you. His voice drops into a soft mumble, the last of the afterglow pulling him over. "Good. I can't wait to do it again. Best sex of my life." His hand runs up your side, his finger brushing against your breast. "Can't wait for more of that. You're perfect, baby girl." His lips press against the side of your head and he holds you close. "So perfect for me."

His words send a spark of happiness through you and you smile, dropping your head onto his chest. He holds you closer, his fingers rubbing up your back, his hands resting on your lower back and ass.

Then you feel his body pulling away from yours. You mumble a protest, reaching for him, and you can feel him chuckle.

"Shh, baby, I'll be right back," he tells you softly. His lips press a kiss to your forehead and then he's rolling away from you, moving to the side of the bed. "Just need to run to the bathroom for a minute."

You hum, stretching and letting your eyes flutter open. He's pulling on his boxer briefs, moving out of the bedroom. You watch him go with a little sigh, your body still buzzing from the afterglow. You roll over onto your back, running a hand through your hair and smiling up at the ceiling.

God, he's perfect.

He comes back a few minutes later, a warm towel in his hands. You turn your head to look at him as he moves back onto the bed, a soft smile on his face. He runs the towel up your thigh, leaning down to kiss your hip.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmurs.

Your thighs drop open, letting him clean you with the warm towel. His mouth moves against your skin, his tongue licking at your hip as he holds the towel against you. The warmth feels good against your pussy and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your hips into his touch.

"Does that feel better?" he asks. You nod, his eyes lifting to yours.

"Yeah, that feels really good." Your voice comes out breathy and soft as he cleans you again. "Mmmm."

He smiles, his lips brushing against your stomach. His tongue flicks out to lick at your skin as he moves his mouth lower. You shudder a little, wanting to push your hips up, and his mouth lifts to yours.

He crawls over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His lips cover yours, kissing you slowly. His tongue slips between your lips, his teeth catching your lip as he moves his hips against you.

Your thighs lift up around his, holding him close between your legs. His cock is hard again, pressing against your stomach, and he groans as he feels it.

"Again?" he asks you.

You smile and nod, reaching up to kiss him again. He smiles too, his lips covering yours.

"Mmmm," you murmur against him. "Yes."

-Bianca🌻

[chukys-mouthguard]

7 minutes in heaven with matt 🙄🙄🙄 But you’re the awkward wall flower that’s minds there business and it’s definitely not your setting at a party that your friend dragged you to and you end up getting pushed into the closet with him after spin the bottle or u chicken out and just end up making out on the washroom seee yaaa.

kiss me i dare you

1.9k words

genre: fluff

request: yes

featuring: matt rempe x female reader

note: happy birthday to the angel baby that is matthew rempe, I’ll be taking a shot or two in his honor tonight 😘

How the hell did you end up here?

You knew coming to this party was not a good idea, but somehow your best friend convinced you. Wanting to have an exit strategy in case her plans of chasing her crush didn’t end well.

The plan was to try and keep to yourself, hide off in the corner if you had to, and hope the time passed quickly. But that plan flew out the window the moment your friend drunkenly pulled you into the circle for a game of 7 minutes in heaven. Rolling your eyes at the idea of such a childish game that was clearly just a way for a bunch of twenty somethings to have the excuse to make out without seeming too forward and just making a move on someone randomly.

Despite your protests, the game started and you were now a part of it. The rules were simple: spin the bottle and whomever it lands on is who you have to head off into the closet with for 7 minutes.

Watching the group, you noticed how everyone was eyeing one another. Trying to figure out who they’d most want to land on, and who they didn’t. You simply kept your eyes on the bottle, disinterested and hoping that somehow you’d make it out of the game without having to participate.

“Not a fan of party games?”

The low and husky voice of the boy sitting next to you caught you off guard, making you jump as you looked away from the bottle to catch his gaze.

“How could you tell?”

The two of you slightly laughed as he reached into a cooler that sat open next to him, cracking open a seltzer before he handed it to you.

“Well for starters, the moment you walked in you already looked ready to walk right back out the door. And, you haven’t had a sip of anything all night. Not quite sure how anyone could put up with a party like this without alcohol.”

Taking the can from his hand you took a few sips, noticing the smile on his face. Clearly proud of himself as if he’d cracked your hard exterior a bit and got you to loosen up.

“I’m Matt by the way.”

“Y/n.”

He smiled as he held out his beer can, cheersing your seltzer as you two watched the game continue. More and more pairings heading off for their 7 minutes, though you’d now come to realize that no one was keeping track and this was more of a game to find someone to hook up with for the night.

As the circle got smaller and smaller, it was now your turn to spin the bottle. Looking at your options that remained, you could only hope it would land on Matt. At least you’d gotten to know him briefly before you’d be expected to shove your tongue down his throat.

As the bottle spun in circles, your heart raced. Matt noticing how nervous you had become, he decided to try and help make the game a little easier on you.

“Oh shit are there cops here?!”

Matt pointed to the front window, causing those around to all quickly turn their heads. While the crowd was distracted he grabbed the bottle, stopping it to face himself. Shooting you a wink before everyone turned back around.

“Sorry guys, must’ve just been car lights. False alarm!”

Putting his hands up apologetically, he then looked to the bottle. “Oh shit, guess you’re stuck with me then huh?”

Rolling your eyes at the shit eating grin he had plastered on his face, you stood up and headed off down the hall. Matt stumbling behind you as he tried to catch up, bumping through the crowd.

“This fine?”

He shrugged as he walked inside, waiting for you to join him before closing the door. You sighed as you looked around, trying to distract yourself from the point of you being there in the first place.

“Look, let’s just get one thing straight, I’m not sleeping with you.”

Matt cackled as he found a box to sit on, earning a disgruntled look from you. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to sleep with me. Hell, I honestly didn’t even expect you to come in here and kiss me.”

Taking offense to his reaction, you immediately wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling embarrassed for thinking that maybe he was a decent guy. That he’d actually wanted the bottle to land on him. Instead, it seemed as though he was loving the opportunity to embarrass you and laugh that you actually thought he was interested.

“If you rigged the game just to laugh at me, or make fun, I would’ve rather you let me get stuck with some other prick from that circle.”

As you tried to head for the door, ready to get the hell out of there and leave the party altogether, Matt quickly stepped in front of you.

“Okay wait…I’m not making fun or laughing at you. I said those things because, I knew you weren’t into the game. And to be honest, I just wanted a chance to get to know you. To talk to you away from the party and everything. So yeah, I rigged the game. But not to get a quick make out session, or to try and sleep with you. That was the absolute last thing on my mind.”

Taking a step back from the door, a soft smile on your lips, you found yourself a box to sit on, signaling to Matt you weren’t trying to escape anymore.

“Okay then, you’ve got me away from the party. What now?”

Matt smiled as you finally seemed to be letting your guard down a bit, feeling more comfortable away from the party being able to sit and talk. No alcohol being shoved in your face or crazy drinking games where you were being forced to participate.

“To be honest, I didn’t think this far ahead for anything to talk about.”

The two of you laughing at Matt’s buzzed brain fog, simply enjoying the time away from the party. Occasionally asking one another something random that came to mind.

“I have an idea. Since you loveeee party games so much!”

Rolling your eyes you shot him a glare, earning a chuckle from Matt as he sipped that last bit of his beer.

“Truth or dare?”

A scoff leaving your lips as you crossed your arms, soon realizing he was serious and figuring you had nothing to lose at this point. He’d already gotten you to relax and actually smile at this party. Something you had not expected upon arrival.

“Truth.”

“Why did you come tonight anyways if you’re not interested in any of this stuff? Or like trying to hook up with someone? Cause that’s usually how these parties go.”

“Oh so you come to parties like this to hook up with girls? Got it!”

Playfully winking at him, Matthew chuckled as he awaited your answer. “Well I didn’t volunteer to come. I was dragged here by my friend who is chasing some guy who she’ll probably sleep with and then end up heartbroken when she realizes he just wanted a hook up.”

Matt nodded as he could relate, “Yeah, I’m usually just here to play wingman for the guys. Not much of the hookup type. I honestly only jumped in the game to try and get a chance with you. Like, a chance to talk, not anything sexual or whatever.”

You laughed as he quickly turned red, not sure if it was embarrassment or the alcohol.

“Talk to me? Why?”

“Well, you’re beautiful for starters. You didn’t seem like every other girl walking around here hammered and looking for a guy. I don’t know, you took me by surprise and I wanted to know more. You intrigued me.”

You watched as he counted on his fingers all the compliments he was paying you, a blush coming across your lips as you surprised to hear the things he was saying. Having fully assumed he was just another asshole guy getting drunk at a party just looking for a hook up.

“Well thank you, happy to know I intrigued you. Especially in an establishment as fine as this one, it’s probably hard to pick just one person in the crowd that’s intriguing.”

Matt laughed, enjoying your sense of humor and appreciating that he was breaking down your exterior a bit more.

“Exactly! See, I knew I wanted to get a chance to know you. Cute and a sense of humor, what more could a guy want.”

The two of you sat and talked for another twenty or so minutes, fully abandoning the 7 minutes in heaven that was the original intention of going into the closet. Enjoying the time away from the party to talk and avoid the crowded rooms and loud music.

The buzzing of your phone in your pocket pulling you from the conversation, seeing a text from your friend letting you know she’d left the party with the guy she was chasing. Abandoning you with no ride, Matt sensing something was up based on your reaction.

“Everything okay?”

“My friend left with her dream man, and now I’m without a ride home.”

Sighing as you stood up, figuring you’d try your luck with an Uber, Matt figured he’d try his luck at saving the day.

“Or I could drive you?”

Shooting him a questioning look as you glanced at the empty beer can sitting next to him, you shook your head.

“No way, you’ve been drinking. I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I pinky promise, I haven’t had a sip of beer in almost an hour. I would never put you in harms way, and Ubers aren’t the safest thing in the world for young ladies all alone.”

Rolling your eyes you held out a pinky to him, “you swear Matt?”

“Pinky promise, cross my heart and hope to, well I’d say die, but let’s say get you home safe and sound instead!”

The two of you laughing as you headed out and through the house, Matt leading the way to his car that was parked down the street. Opening the door for you before he jumped in himself, popping your address into his phone.

The drive was filled with continued conversation, the two of you laughing at Matt’s bad jokes and funny party stories. And before you knew it, he was pulling up to your apartment. A bit of sadness washing over you as you didn’t want to bid him farewell.

“Truth or dare?”

Matt looked at you confused as you sat in the passenger with a smile on your face. “What?”

“I never got to ask you, so truth or dare?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he chuckled, “ummm, dare?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

His eyes went wide as he looked at you, as if he didn’t understand the words you said.

“What?”

“Oh are you scared of a little dare? Scared of a kiss Matt?”

As you laughed and mocked him with stereotypical chicken noises, he shook his head. Soon enough he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips finding yours catching you off guard. His hand resting on your cheek as he slowly pulled away. A smile on his face as you were still a bit shocked he actually did it.

“Definitely not scared of a little dare.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Live from Baku

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x sky sports!reader

Summary: On her first race day as a Sky Sports presenter at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, Y/N navigates the chaos of a live grid interview with Toto Wolff, only to be caught off guard by him

________________________________________________________

Standing on the grid at the Baku City Circuit in Azerbaijan, with the imposing skyscrapers towering above and the Caspian Sea glittering in the distance, I still couldn’t quite believe I was here. This was my first full weekend as a Sky Sports F1 presenter, and everything about the moment felt surreal—the roar of engines, the scent of hot rubber and gasoline in the air, and the palpable excitement humming through the paddock.

Getting to this point had been a journey. Motorsport had always fascinated me, ever since I was a kid watching races on TV. My path into journalism wasn’t typical, but I’d clawed my way up from writing small blogs about motorsport to landing freelance pieces that covered F1. Eventually, those freelance jobs turned into bigger opportunities, and a few key interviews caught the attention of Sky Sports.

This gig with the Sky team was a dream come true, but it was also overwhelming. Friday and Saturday had passed in a blur—back-to-back segments, shadowing the seasoned presenters, learning how to manage the fast pace of the weekend, and absorbing as much as I could. The Baku Grand Prix was known for being unpredictable, chaotic even, and my first weekend here was no exception. I had to stay sharp, not just for the interviews but because the world of F1 is relentless. One mistake and the audience would pick up on it instantly.

By Sunday, race day, I had gotten a taste of the pressure. I’d already done some pre-race interviews, navigating through the throngs of team members, engineers, and VIPs walking the grid. The noise was deafening, the anticipation thick, but I was starting to find my rhythm. Being here, in the center of the chaos, was a rush like nothing else.

I stood next to Bernie, one of the veteran presenters, prepping for our next live segment. We were getting ready to speak to Toto Wolff, the Mercedes team principal. I’d seen countless interviews with him, and I admired how composed and sharp he always was, even under the immense pressure of race weekends. We had spoken to Christian Horner just minutes ago, and I expected this to be another routine conversation—just a few questions about race strategy, the pressure of the championship battle, and Mercedes’ performance. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

The engines revved in the background as Toto strode over to us. He was tall, confident, his stride purposeful. My heart raced—not out of nerves anymore, but out of anticipation. This was it: a live interview with one of the most powerful figures in Formula 1.

The grid was alive with the sound of roaring engines and the buzz of anticipation as the Azerbaijan Grand Prix was minutes away from starting. Bernie stood beside me, microphone in hand, her sharp eyes scanning the chaotic scene. I still couldn’t believe I was here, my first race weekend as a presenter for Sky Sports, and here we were, about to interview Toto Wolff.

Bernie nudged me with her elbow, her Northern Irish accent cutting through the noise. “Right, love. Time for Mercedes. Ye ready?” she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of warmth and professionalism.

I nodded, gripping my microphone a little tighter. “Ready,” I said, though my nerves fluttered in my stomach.

As Toto Wolff approached us, his towering frame moving easily through the grid, Bernie took the lead, her years of experience evident. She raised her microphone, smiling at Toto. “Toto! Good ta see ya. We’re just a few minutes away from lights out, how’s Mercedes feelin’ today?”

Toto smiled down at us, leaning slightly closer to hear over the roar of the engines. “Good to see you too, Bernie,” he replied smoothly, raising his own microphone. “We’re feeling confident. Yesterday’s qualifying was tough, but we’ve made some adjustments, and we’re ready for the fight.”

I was next, and though my heart raced, I reminded myself to stay calm. This was live television, and I had to focus. I stepped forward, lifting my mic and directing my question toward him. “Toto, after qualifying yesterday, do you think Mercedes is in a good position for today’s race?”

Toto leaned down toward me, his large frame towering over my much smaller one. It was so loud that I had to repeat the question. “Do you feel confident about today after yesterday’s performance?” I asked again, speaking directly into his ear.

His smile widened, and he straightened slightly, his eyes locking onto mine for a second longer than necessary. “Ah, yes,” he said smoothly, his voice almost teasing. “Confidence is always high, especially today. But I think having good company helps.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the way he said it. Was he flirting? No, surely not—this was live TV, after all. I forced a smile, assuming I was reading too much into it, and stepped back as Bernie jumped in with her next question.

“Now, Toto,” Bernie said, her accent making the words flow with a familiar rhythm, “what can we expect from yer strategy today? Red Bull’s been puttin’ the pressure on. Any surprises from Mercedes?”

Toto’s gaze flicked back to me for a split second before he turned to answer Bernie. “Well, we’ve got a few things planned,” he said with that same easy confidence. “But sometimes, surprises just… happen. Some things you can’t plan for.” His voice dipped slightly on the last part, and again, I felt a flutter of something—was it nerves? Or something else entirely?

Bernie shot me a quick look, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly, but she kept things professional as always. “Well, sounds like we’re in for a good race,” she said, wrapping things up. “Thank ye, Toto, for yer time. Best of luck.”

Toto nodded and gave his usual polite smile, but before he walked away, he turned back toward me, leaning down once again. “Before I go,” he said, his voice softer, meant only for me, “I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe after the race… I could get your number?”

I stared at him, momentarily frozen. Was this really happening? On the grid? Live? Before I could even process a response, his team radio crackled, pulling him away. “Toto, we need you back at the garage,” the voice of an engineer called through his earpiece.

He smiled one last time, giving me a small wink. “Think about it, *liebling*,” he added with a grin before heading off toward the Mercedes garage, disappearing into the crowd.

I stood there for a moment, my microphone still in hand, mind racing as I processed what had just happened. Bernie glanced at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did he just…?” I asked quietly, still unsure of what to make of it.

Bernie raised an eyebrow, her accent thick as she whispered back, “Flirt wit’ ye? Aye, I reckon he did.”

I felt my cheeks flush as Bernie chuckled softly beside me. “On live TV, no less,” she added with a shake of her head, her voice full of amusement.

We stood there for a moment longer, the noise of the grid surging around us, but all I could think about was what had just happened with Toto Wolff. My first race day, and it was already unforgettable in ways I hadn’t expected.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 10, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Sep 11, 2024

Former president Trump has always approached debates as professional wrestling events in which the key is not to explain policies or answer questions, but rather to demonstrate dominance over your opponent. In 2016 the Democratic nominee, former secretary of state Hillary Clinton, had a hard time countering this strategy effectively because of the many expectations of what was appropriate behavior for a female presidential candidate. In 2020 and then again in the June 2024 “debate,” Democratic candidate Joe Biden’s stutter made it difficult to counter Trump’s scattershot attacks.

The question for Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris in tonight’s presidential debate was not how to answer policy questions, but how to counter Trump’s dominance displays while also appealing to the American people.  

She and her team figured it out, and today they played the former president brilliantly. He took the bait, and tonight he self-destructed. In a live debate, on national television. 

The Harris campaign began the day trolling Trump with a new campaign ad featuring the pieces of former president Barack Obama’s speech at the August Democratic National Convention that concerned Trump. “Here’s a 78-year-old billionaire”—the ad cuts to a photo of Trump in a golf cart—“who has not stopped whining about his problems.” Then a clip of Trump shows him complaining about Harris’s crowds, before Obama notes Trump’s “weird obsession with crowd sizes,” complete with Obama’s hand motion suggesting Trump’s sizes were small. “It just goes on, and on, and on,” Obama says, before the ad shows empty seats and people yawning at Trump’s rallies.

“America’s ready for a new chapter,” Obama says to the overflow crowd cheering at Chicago’s United Center during the Democratic National Convention. “We are ready for a President Kamala Harris!” At the end, even Harris’s standard statement, “I’m Kamala Harris and I approved this message,” sounds like a challenge.

This morning, the Harris campaign began running the ad on the Fox News Channel. 

At the same time, they began running Philadelphia-themed ads across the city on billboards, in the Philadelphia Inquirer, and on food trucks and taxi cabs, sidewalk art, and digital projections making fun of Trump’s fascination with crowd sizes. They showed, for example, a full-sized Philadelphia pretzel labeled “Harris” alongside a piece of one that looked like an upside down U labeled “Trump.”

The taunting might have been behind Trump’s demand for loyalty from Republican lawmakers this afternoon, telling them to shut down the government if he doesn’t get his way on the inclusion of a voter suppression measure in the bill to fund the government. The right has often relied on threats of government shutdowns to try to get their way, but such shutdowns are never popular, and even moderate Republicans are leery of launching one just before an election.

Nonetheless, Trump tried to lock them into such a shutdown, reiterating in a post this afternoon the lie that undocumented immigrants are voting in presidential elections. “If Republicans in the House, and Senate, don’t get absolute assurances on Election Security, THEY SHOULD, IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, GO FORWARD WITH A CONTINUING RESOLUTION ON THE BUDGET. THE DEMOCRATS ARE TRYING TO ‘STUFF’ VOTER REGISTRATIONS WITH ILLEGAL ALIENS. DON’T LET IT HAPPEN—CLOSE IT DOWN.” 

Throughout the day, the Harris campaign placed posts on social media showing Harris looking crisp and presidential and Trump looking old and unkempt. And then, for ten minutes in the hour before the debate, the Harris campaign held a drone show over the Philadelphia Museum of Art showing campaign slogans and then turning the words “MADAM VICE PRESIDENT” into “MADAM PRESIDENT.” 

Hugo Lowell of The Guardian reported today that Trump’s advisors were concerned ahead of the debate about whether they would get “happy Trump” or “angry Trump,” worrying that a frustrated Trump would engage in the vicious personal attacks that turn voters off. They expressed relief that having the microphones muted when it was not a candidate’s turn to speak would prevent Harris from irritating him with fact checks and snark of her own. Conservative lawyer George Conway noted that it was “[i]nteresting how one campaign is extremely concerned about the emotional stability of its candidate, and how the other is not.”

Harris’s attacks on Trump, including her campaign’s subtle digs at his masculinity, appeared to have accomplished what they set out to. When the two came out on stage, he went straight to his podium, while she strode across the stage, moved into his space, held out her hand, introduced herself and wished him well: “Kamala Harris. Have a good debate.” He muttered in response, “Nice to see you.” Then she took her own spot at the podium. When the debate opened, it was clear that Harris was the dominant figure and that her opponent was “angry Trump.” He would not look at her during the debate.

In her first answer, Harris tried to set out both her own story as a child of the middle class and how she intended to build an opportunity economy for others, lowering food and housing costs and opening the way for more small businesses. It was a lot, quickly, and she looked a little nervous.

Then Trump spoke and it was clear he was going off the rails. His first comment was to suggest Harris was lying, and then to insist that his proposed tariffs will solve everything, although he has the way tariffs work entirely backward: they are paid by the consumer, not by foreign countries. As he followed with a long list of his rally lies, Harris started to smile.  

From then on, he continued to produce rally stories full of wild exaggerations and attack Harris with lies in what CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale called “a staggeringly dishonest debate performance from former president Trump.” "No major presidential candidate before Donald Trump has ever lied with this kind of frequency,” Dale said. “A remarkably large chunk of what he said tonight was just not true. This wasn't little exaggerations, political spin. A lot of his false claims were untethered to reality." As Harris spoke directly to the American people, growing stronger and stronger, Trump got wilder and angrier and told more and more crazy stories. 

And then, about ten minutes into the debate, Harris baited him. She invited the American people to go to one of his rallies, where “he talks about fictional characters like Hannibal Lecter, he will talk about ‘windmills cause cancer.’ And what you will also notice is that people start leaving his rallies early out of exhaustion and boredom.” 

Trump lost it. He defended his rallies, said Harris couldn’t get anyone to attend hers and has to bus in attendees (in reality, her rallies are packed and he is the one who reportedly hires attendees), and then, in his fury, repeated the lie about immigrants eating pets. When a moderator fact-checked that story, he fought back, saying he heard it on television.

And from then on, Harris kept baiting him while explaining her own policies directly to the camera, and he took the bait every single time. He ran down every rabbit hole and appeared unable to finish a thought. Notably, he refused to say he would not sign a national abortion ban and admitted that after nine years of promising one, he had no health care plan (he has, he said, “concepts of a plan,” and if they pan out, he’ll let us know in the “not too distant future”). 

He threatened World War III and repeated that the U.S. is “a failing nation.” He told a long story about threatening “Abdul,” the leader of the Taliban; in fact, the leader of the Taliban since 2016 is Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada. In response to Harris’s statement that foreign leaders thought he was a disgrace, Trump answered that Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán, who destroyed his country’s democracy and replaced it with a dictatorship, says he’s a good leader. New York Times columnist David French wrote: “It's like she's debating MAGA Twitter come to life.”

The debate moderators, David Muir and Linsey Davis of ABC, asked solid questions and corrected the most egregious of Trump’s lies. But as he continued to interrupt and yell at Harris, they increasingly gave him leeway to do so. This meant he spoke more often and for more time than Harris; MSNBC’s Stephanie Ruhle reported that he spoke 39 times for a total of 41.9 minutes, to her 23 times for a total of 37.1 minutes. But the extra time did him no favors.

By the end of the evening, Harris had delivered a clear message about her hopes to move the country forward beyond years of using race to divide people who have far more in common than they have differences. She promised to develop an economy that will build small businesses and support a growing middle class, while protecting rights, including the right to make reproductive decisions without the intrusion of the state. And she showed the nation that Trump can be baited, that he lies freely and incoherently, and—perhaps crucially—that he is no longer the dominant politician in America.  

Immediately after the debate, the Harris campaign continued their demonstration of dominance. Harris-Walz campaign chair Jen O’Malley Dillon released a statement recapping Harris’s strength and Trump’s angry incoherence. She concluded: “Vice President Harris is ready for a second debate. Is Donald Trump?”

Then things got even worse for Trump. 

Music phenomenon Taylor Swift endorsed Harris, telling her 283 million Instagram followers that she felt she had to because of Trump’s earlier reposting of an AI image of her seeming to endorse him. That, she said, “brought me to the conclusion that I need to be very transparent about my actual plans for this election as a voter. The simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth. I will be casting my vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz in the 2024 Presidential Election.”

After explaining why she was supporting Harris and Walz and urging her fans to do their own research, Swift signed off: “Taylor Swift, Childless Cat Lady.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Shifts In Perspective

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 19, Sam holds a Phantom protest.

...

“I just… I don’t understand it,” Valerie says.  “We’re enemies.  Right?  Like we actually are.  But I swear he took that hit for me.  There’s nothing else he could have been doing.”

Danny, for his part, has adopted his usual strategy when Valerie starts talking about Phantom: say as little as possible.  So instead, he just makes a small noise of acknowledgement.

“I just don’t know what to make of it, is all,” Valerie says.  “I mean, I don’t know.�� Does it sound like him to you?”

Stopping you from getting hurt by one of my parents’ weapons?  Yeah, that sounds like me, Danny doesn’t say.  Instead, he adjusts the bandana that hides his hair over the sunglasses that hide his eyes and says, “I don’t know.  Not from what you’ve said of him before.”

“I know,” Valerie groans, turning so her board flies into the alleyway in between the buildings ahead.  Danny tightens his grip around her waist from behind so he doesn’t fly off.

“And he put himself in harm’s way too,” Valerie continues.  “I don’t understand it.”

“I don’t either,” Danny says.  And because he can’t help asking, “So uh, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Right now?  Nothing,” Valerie says, taking them up over the next building.  “But it was definitely weird.  I want to know more.  Maybe… maybe I’ll just pay closer attention, watch him for a little bit.”

Well, that doesn’t say anything about what he should do.  He really doesn’t want to manipulate Valerie’s feelings in regards to him, even if her no longer actively hunting him sounds nice.  But he can’t see any clear direction for ‘I’m going to watch to see what I can learn.’  Obviously he’s not going to suddenly start being nefarious.  But if he does more good deeds than usual, that’s manipulative, right?  But it’s not like he can just ignore it if people are in danger, and he can’t just stop fighting ghosts.

Honestly, there are times he wishes he hadn’t found out who Valerie is just because of the headache of trying to figure out how to act around her anymore.

“That sounds like an okay idea,” Danny says anyway, because he has to say something to that.  “Just be safe, okay?”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” Valerie asks, and Danny can hear the tease in her voice even through her mask.  “Don’t worry, Danny.  I’ll still kick some ghost butt.”

Danny smiles a little.  “I have no doubt about that.”

Valerie laughs, and flies them both down to an alleyway a little ways from the school.  Danny hops off, and after making sure no one’s around, takes off his sunglasses and bandana.

“Thanks for the ride to school,” he says.

“No problem,” Valerie says, retracting her suit into her backpack.  “Sure beats the bus, huh?”

Danny grins.  “You said it.”

They walk the rest of the route to school, holding hands until they reach the parking lot, at which point they let go.  Danny did manage to ignore his guilt at the idea long enough to tell Valerie he doesn’t want Sam and Tucker to know they’re dating.  Valerie asked no questions, which Danny appreciated.  But that means all their dates take place outside school, and inside, they act as they always have— or, as they always have since they became friends.

So as they part ways in the hallway, Valerie turns and gives him a bright smile, says “See you at lunch,” and that’s that.

Danny grabs his stuff from his locker and starts heading for his first class, when suddenly, as he’s walking past the janitor’s closet, he hears a very clear sob from the inside.

He startles and turns to face it.  He doesn’t hear another sob, but there’s some very obvious muffled breathing.

“Uh you okay?” Danny calls.  He knocks gently on the door, only for it to swing open, the person inside clearly not having shut it all the way.

The person inside whirls around, and Danny stares at her for a minute, stunned.

“S-Sam?” he asks, trying to process what he’s seeing.  “Are you alright?”

Sam pulls in a shaky, horrible sounding breath, and gives him a terrible attempt at a glare.

“Leave— leave me alone,” she gasps, but it ends with her pressing her hand over her mouth in another sob.

“Hey,” Danny says, his hands and concern both shooting up as he takes a step into the closet.  “Hey, what’s wrong, you—”

“I said leave me alone!” Sam screams, and reaches out and shoves him hard back into the shelves of the closet.  Danny wheezes, the wind knocked out of him, but Sam runs out past him before he can say anything else.  Danny runs out into the hall as soon as he gets his breath back, but Sam’s already gone.

…

After that, Danny doesn’t see Sam for the rest of the morning, which makes him even more concerned.  He looks for a chance to talk to Tucker about it, but doesn’t manage to find one before lunch.  So he meets up quickly with Valerie, tells her he’ll be right back, and heads quickly to the lunchroom to check on her.

Instead, he finds Tucker sitting alone at a lunch table.  He looks up as he sees Danny approach, and looks away quickly after, but Danny can still see the nerves on his face.

“I haven’t seen Sam all day,” Tucker says anyway.  “Do you think she’s sick?”

“She’s not,” Danny says, looking at Tucker until he draws his gaze.  Tucker looks at him for a whole half a second before looking back down at the table, which has to be a record for lately.

“Actually,” Danny says, sitting down across from him.  “I found her this morning crying in the janitor’s closet.”

Tucker’s head snaps up, and now he’s looking at Danny.  “What?”

But before Danny can explain the little he knows, a box slams down on the table next to them, startling them both.

“We’re having a protest about Phantom,” Sam announces, glaring down at them both from over the box.

Danny and Tucker both exchange a brief glance before turning back to Sam.  Her face hasn’t changed from the firm glare she’s wearing.

“Um, okay,” Danny says, carefully.  “Sure.”

He doesn’t want to ask why, because while he doesn’t see any traces of that morning’s breakdown in her face, the fact that he hasn’t seen her since then can’t be a coincidence.

“You’re joking, right?” Tucker asks, looking at Sam in a way Danny can’t read.

“Absolutely not,” Sam says, with a harsh glare right at Tucker.  “My permit’s in the box, we’re setting it up after school.”

“You and me?” Tucker asks.

“No, all three of us, obviously,” Sam says.  She still hasn’t sat down.  “I’m not just going to leave Danny out.”

Danny raises his eyebrows slightly but doesn’t say anything.  It doesn’t feel like it would go over well to say much.

Tucker, however, does not seem to get this memo.  “Sam—” he starts.

“Great,” Sam snaps instead of letting him finish.  “I’ll meet you out front after school.  Bye.”

With that, she picks up the box again and storms off again without sitting down.

“She’s joking, right?” Tucker says after she leaves, seeming to be directed more at the empty space than at Danny.  Danny responds anyway.

“I don’t think she is,” he says slowly.  “But really, she didn’t look great this morning.  I don’t know if…” he trails off, not exactly sure what he’s trying to say.

Because what he’s thinking is I don’t know if I should take this too personally.

But he can’t say that to Tucker.

He looks after Sam for a moment, but though he can feel Tucker looking at him, when he turns Tucker just drops his gaze back to the table.

But after a second, he nods.  “Okay,” he says.  “After school, then.”

Danny nods.  “Yeah,” he says.  And that’s that.

…

Sam really goes all out.  It isn’t that surprising, especially with how rich her family is, but it’s still rather impressive in the course of a single day.

There’s giant posters with his face— well, his face as Phantom— on them, inside a stereotypical red circle with a line through it.  Sam hangs up a list of major grievances right next to the stage that’s already set up.  There’s stuff like property damage, public disruptions, time taken to finish fights, and a list of every single person who’s ever gotten hurt during a ghost fight.  Admittedly, the last part stings the most.  Danny keeps away from the stage.

He personally is standing at the archway entrance, handing out rubber bracelets that read “Phantom Sucks,” which, well if anything he can laugh at the irony.

And for the most part, he’s succeeding in his “don’t take this personally” plan.  Sure, it doesn’t feel great that so many people show up, many of whom he recognizes.  There’s people who got caught in the line of fire and some whose cars got smashed or store windows got broken.

But for the most part, Danny’s able to keep his mind off it all.  In part because he’s put himself technically out of the actual event, and in part because he’s thinking more about Sam’s slightly manic energy as they helped put everything up.  This still feels like an aftereffect of the way he found her this morning.  Which just makes it more worrying that he doesn’t know what’s wrong.

He’s interrupted while watching Sam up on the stage, making a speech that, thankfully, he can’t quite hear.

“You are kidding me, right?”

Danny turns to see Jazz standing behind him with her arms crossed.

“Okay look let me explain,” Danny says, holding his hands up.

Jazz turns her head to the sky in exasperation.

“Jazz, seriously,” Danny says.

“Fine,” Jazz says, waving a hand at him.  “I’d love to hear it.”

“I found Sam having some kind of breakdown in the closet this morning,” Danny says, glancing briefly back at her.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think this is really about me.”

“And that means you have to show up why, exactly?”

Danny crosses his arms.  “I’m worried,” he says.

“You can do that at home.”

“Yeah, okay Jazz, thanks,” he says, glaring at her a little bit.  “I’m just waiting until I can get a chance to ask her what’s wrong.  Then I’ll come home and you can lecture me.”

“Who said I was going to lecture you?” Jazz says.  “You’re free to make your own terrible choices.  Have a great time at the Danny Phantom protest.”

She turns and starts to walk away.

“I’m really not taking it personally,” Danny says before she’s too far away to hear.

Jazz glances back at him again.  She looks him up and down for a couple seconds, obviously scrutinizing, before her glare fades just a little.

“Okay,” she says.  “Good.”  And then she leaves.

Danny sighs and leans back against the cardboard archway, shortly before realizing that’s not a great idea when the flimsy cardboard collapses and he falls on top of it on the ground.

“Cardboard, it’s cardboard,” he mutters to himself as he pushes himself back up, and pulls the arch with him.

“Danny?”

Danny squeezes his eyes shut.  Oh, great.

“Valerie, hey,” he says, turning to face her with the best smile he can muster.  “You here for the protest?”

Valerie, however, has a look of slight disgust on her face, which throws him off guard.

“Uh, no,” Valerie says, which doesn’t help in his confusion.  “Are you?”

“Oh, nah, I’m just helping Sam out,” Danny says with a glance back at the stage that hopefully just screams “casual.”

Valerie steps up next to him, and when Danny looks over he sees her looking at the stage.  He’s not sure how he feels about the look on her face.

Sam screams something about how dangerous Phantom is loud enough for the two of them to hear, and Valerie wrinkles her nose.

“Wow,” she mutters after a second.  “I hope I haven’t ever sounded like that.”

Danny blinks.  “Huh?”

Valerie turns to face him.  “Let’s get out of here,” she says.

“Uh, I was actually waiting to talk to Sam,” Danny says, looking back at the stage.  “She… I don’t think she’s alright.”

“Oh she’s definitely not,” Valerie says.  “Let’s get out of here anyway.”

“What?  I can’t just leave her if I know she’s not okay.”

“Sure you can,” Valerie says.  “She’s been awful to you.  I know that, and I don’t even know everything that’s happened between you guys.  She also hasn’t asked for your help.  You can’t be telling me you want to be here.  You don’t look like you want to be here.”

Danny crosses his arms.  “Of course I don’t want to be here,” he mutters.

“Then let’s go,” Valerie says.  “Come on, I’ve had a date idea I’ve been meaning to take us on for a while.”

Danny hesitates.  He looks up towards the stage one more time.

…He’s not getting Sam’s attention any time soon.  And he can always ask her what was up tomorrow.

Danny takes a deep breath, pushes his guilt to the side, and turns to Valerie.  “Okay,” he says.  “Let’s go.”

…

Valerie takes them both a ways away from the protest before she pulls out her board.  By the time she does, Danny’s been expecting it though, so he puts his bandana and sunglasses on and climbs on behind her.  Then he wraps his arms around her so he doesn’t fly off as she takes off.

He wouldn’t be in any danger if he did fly off, but she doesn’t know that, and that’s not really how he wants her to find out.

Valerie doesn’t go nearly as fast as he can, but she still likes to go fast, and Danny can appreciate the rush of wind in his face as they both head upwards.  For all the problems being half ghosts causes, he’ll never get sick of flying.

They both end up high in the air, high enough that Danny can see the clouds around them.

“Are you nervous being this far up?” Valerie asks as they stop.  “We can go lower if you are.”

Danny shakes his head.  “I trust you,” he says.  It’s only a partial lie.  He knows Valerie won’t let him fall.

Valerie smiles back at him, then hits a button on her board that locks it in place, and sits down, pulling her hood off.  Danny pulls off his bandana and sunglasses and sits down next to her.

“We’re gonna be up here a while,” she says, leaning back on the board.  “For the sunset for me, and then the stars for you.”

Danny grins.  “Awesome,” he says.  He doesn’t have to try too hard to get excitement in his voice.  Even though it may not be his first time stargazing this high up in the air, it never gets old for him.  And doing it with someone is new.  He’s glad it gets to be Valerie.

Valerie grins back at  him, and leans back on her board.  There’s just enough space there for her to lean on her hands, and Danny marvels a minute at how calm she looks.  She doesn’t have any natural abilities to rely on up here.  If something goes wrong with that board, as far as she knows, they’re both in trouble.  He wonders for a minute who she got it from.  She said they were anonymous, but she must trust them for some reason.

“So hey,” Valerie says, bringing an end to his thoughts and drawing his gaze to her.  “Can I ask you something?”

Danny nods.  “Sure.”

“When you talked before about someone who makes you feel like you’re just around to vent to.  Was that Sam?  And the thing she vents about all the time, was that Phantom?”

Danny looks away.  “Uh,” he says, “maybe.”

Valerie doesn’t say anything for a moment.  When she speaks again, it’s definitely not what he expects to hear.

“Danny, why didn’t you tell me to stop talking about Phantom all the time?”

Danny looks over at her in surprise.  “Huh?”

“You had to be sick of it.  And you had to have not wanted to hear me go on about him too.  Tell me to stop, dumbass.  I will.”

“But you were angry about him because he ruined your entire life,” Danny protests.  “It’s not fair of me to ask you to stop talking about all your problems.”

“Danny, that’s like, what our entire relationship is built on.  We don’t ask about things the other person doesn’t want to talk about.  Why shouldn’t that go the other way around too?”

“Because—” Danny starts, but he’s not sure where to go once he does.  Because our not talking about anything made it so I never realized you were the Red Huntress?  Because our not talking about anything means you still don’t know I’m Phantom?  Because maybe sometimes we actually should talk about these things?

“Danny, I don't want you to make yourself miserable for me,” Valerie says.

“I’m not miserable,” Danny mutters.

Valerie snorts.

“Hey!”

“Well, come on.  I’m not blaming myself entirely.  But Danny.”

Danny looks down and starts fidgeting with his hands.  “You weren’t supposed to notice that,” he mutters.

“I like you,” Valerie says.  “We’re dating.  I’m supposed to pay attention, aren’t I?”

Danny doesn’t say anything.

Valerie reaches out and takes one of his hands and squeezes it.  “Hey,” she says.  “Tell me what Sam and Tucker do that bothers you so much.”

“It’s not their fault.”

“Did I ask whose fault it was?”

Danny moves their hands so their fingers are interlaced and looks out at the sky.  Partly because the sun is starting to set, and partly because it’s easier to talk when he’s not looking right at Valerie.

“We’ve been friends since we were little kids,” he says quietly.  “They’re two of my favorite people in the entire world.”

“But?” Valerie prompts.

“I hate being around them now,” Danny says, wiping at his eyes with his free hand.  “It’s never fun.  It never feels like I can just enjoy the time.  Sam is… angry.  Constantly.  And before, she— I mean she’s always been passionate about things, but this feels different.  And Tucker never looks at me anymore.  And he won’t tell me why or what’s wrong.  And every single conversation we ever have is about Phantom.  I mean, can’t they give the guy a break?  He’s not perfect!  And he shouldn’t have to be!  Why does everyone expect him to get everything right all the time?  It’s too much to put on one person— ghost, whatever,” he finishes with a mutter, stopping himself before he says something he shouldn’t.

Valerie’s quiet for a long moment, and Danny looks away and braces himself for some kind of comment about how he has to keep in mind that Phantom is dangerous, and it’s good that Sam and Tucker are wary of him, and god, he wants to go home and sleep.

Instead, however, Valerie turns him back to face her and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” she murmurs.

Danny sniffs, and rests his head on her shoulder.  “For what?”

“Making it harder for you,” Valerie says.  “I mean, you still should have asked me to stop.  And I’m not kidding about wanting you to do that from now on.  But I am sorry.”

“You have a reason to be upset,” Danny manages.

“Yeah, I do,” Valerie agrees.  “But there are things I have in my life now that I didn’t have before.”  She squeezes Danny one more time and pulls back, smiling at him.  “I’m closer with my dad now.  And I wouldn’t trade that relationship for anything.  And I’ve got you, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything either.”

“Those didn’t happen because of Phantom,” Danny says weakly.  “You did that.”

“I know,” Valerie says.  “But I’m starting to think… my life doesn’t have to be about him.  I don’t have to define myself based on what happened with Phantom.  And I mean, seeing that protest today, I…” Valerie shakes her head.  “Maybe I’ve been a little hard on him.”

Danny sniffs, and wipes at his eyes again.  “Sorry,” he says before Valerie can say anything.  “I don’t know why I’m crying, ‘s stupid, I—”

“Oh shut up,” Valerie says.  She pulls him back in for another hug, and doesn’t seem to mind when Danny takes the chance to shake in her arms.

“Hey,” she says after a while, and Danny pulls back to see her looking up.  “The stars are out.”

He looks up and sees that she’s right.  He sniffs again and blinks quickly to stop his eyes from blurring.

Valerie wraps her arm around Danny and points up at them with her free hand.  “Which constellations can you find?”

Danny leans his head on her shoulder, and looks to find the stars that are visible.  So high up, there’s less light pollution, and more to see.

“Aquarius,” he croaks, and neither of them mention how terrible his voice sounds.  He points up at the constellation.  “That star there is the supergiant Sadalmelik, and you can follow it down to Sadalsuud.  But you can’t see the whole thing.  We’d have to go further out in the country.”

“Next date, got it,” Valerie says with a smile in her voice.

“And that over there is the square of Pegasus,” Danny says.  Valerie follows his point.  “See it?”

“I think so,” Valerie says.

Danny sniffs one last time and drops his hand.  “Sorry we talked all through the sunset,” he says.

“Oh yeah, I’m real pissed about it,” Valerie says in an obvious tease.  “We have no choice but to do this again so you can make it up to me.”

Danny’s smile fades, and he doesn’t say anything.  Valerie doesn’t say anything else, though, and for a long while they both sit there.

Rather than stargazing, Danny spends it trying to feel better about the decision he’s made.

[elfwitchtrickster]

Combat Training - Loki x reader oneshot

Summary: Loki and the reader are paired up for combat training

Loki reluctantly lined up with the other avengers as Steve and Natasha stood in front of them. "Welcome back to your weekly combat training" Steve announced. "Since we spent the last three weeks covering different attack strategies I figured this week we can just practise sparring which will give you a chance to revise everything you've learnt" he said, Loki fought the urge to shape-shift into Steve and mock the patriotic hero. "Alright so we're

gonna pair you up and we can get to work" Natasha said clapping her hands. They walked along the line pairing up the superheroes, Loki zoned out as he impatiently waited for his turn. "Okay and Loki I'm gonna have you with Y/N"

Steve said, gesturing down the line. Loki raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name and leaned forward to see who Steve was pointing at.

There was a large variety of superheroes at the compound, in different sizes shapes and forms yet what Loki saw before him was certainly unexpected. Smiling at him from down the line was a short, dark clad woman with H/C hair. A smirk grew on his face as he looked his opponent up and down. He would defeat this tiny mortal in less than a minute and he wouldn't even have to mess up his hair he thought snidely. She stepped forward when Steve introduced her. "Y/N is a stealth and intelligence officer so she's here for her monthly mandatory training session" he explained. Loki nodded already bored even though they hadn't even started.

Eventually they walked off, Y/N finding an empty space on the padded floor. Loki followed her with a mischievous smile. She shifted into a fighting stance and waited for Loki to make the first move. He sighed in an exasperated way and stepped forward opting for a swift punch. To his surprise before his fist made contact she had moved to the side. Unfazed he tried again this time trying to knock her off balance but once again, she evaded his attempt. Loki stopped an expression of shock from crossing his face. She had simply gotten lucky he told himself and now moved in for a much more complex manoeuvre that would end with her on the ground. He managed to successfully lift her into the air and bring her back down, but before he could secure her place on the mat she had wriggled out of his grip. Loki huffed in annoyance and Y/N smiled cheekily, the action only irritated the God of Mischief more as he squared up for another attack.

After several more attempts Loki's hair was falling over his face as he pushed himself back to a standing position. While Y/N had not achieved a completed attack against Loki, she had managed to escape all of his. Loki was practically boiling at this point, his frustration threatening to boil over and explode on the smaller girl. The whole time Y/N giggled each time she dodged a punch which only added to the god's vexation. Thankfully, she asked for a water break which allowed Loki to have a minute to himself. He took a deep breath in, in an effort to calm himself, breathing out slowly. 'It's just like a training session in Asgard' he murmured quietly. 'You're having fun'

When they returned to sparring Loki's attitude change could not have been more drastic. While on the surface he continued to act disinterested or annoyed at her countless parries, he secretly found himself enjoying it. He had never contended with someone who had such a unique fighting style and it intrigued the god greatly. In fact as they went back and forth he couldn't help the smile the crept onto his face. As he examined Y/N's movements he tried to ignore the warm sensation in his chest that came with each of her giggles. If it wasn't for his ego he might have considered letting her win a round.

Finally Loki glanced at the clock realising they only had a few more minutes. Some of the other pairs were beginning to shake hands and walk off the mats but lucky for him, Y/N hadn't realised yet. He had to act fast so he tapped into his more magical strategies. He used his powers to temporarily freeze her in place and once he managed to get ahold of her, he pinned the girl against the wall. She gasped as his hands held hers together above her head, pressing them against the wall. It was then that Loki realised just how close they were. His chests heaved, up and down, he was sure Y/N could feel his breath fanning her face. When he looked down at her she had a stunned expression which he met with his signature smirk. It took a moment for her to recover but once she did, she smiled back at him. Loki found himself being drawn to Y/N leaning in, he caught sight of her lips below his. He felt the softness of her skin and the warmth of her touch, the intensity of her gaze almost made him melt. His lips just seconds away, his eyes fluttered closed before

A piercing whistle met his ears, making both of them flinch. "Let's go reindeer games, you can practice more next week" Stark said pointing to his watch. Loki reluctantly let go of her hands and moved back, allowing her to step off of the wall. "We will continue this some other time" he said, winking before he walked off. As he turned back to look at her one last time he saw the pink hue that had covered her cheeks and the wide grin she sported. She waved at him and Loki exited the gym, eagerly anticipating their next meeting

I know this was short but whatever

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

The Princess & the Spy

Warnings: angst, death

A/N: Hello everyone, I’m back! It’s been a couple of years. I wrote this at 3 a.m, so bare with me.

Summary: Y/n is the princess of Vallahan. Her father joins the king of Hybern during the war and Azriel is sent there to spy. He meets y/n and uses her for information. When she finds out, she’s angry, heartbroken and decides to join the war with her father.

Word count: 1.58K

In recent days, escalating tension caused by the inevitable war the king of Hybern planned against the mortal realm spread. The king of Vallahan was rumored to have aligned with Hybern. Despite the growing support for this alliance within Vallahan, princess Y/n remained against it. She actively tried to swat her father but to no avail. Reluctantly, she attended the war strategy meetings at her father’s behest, though she always sought a means to evade them. One night, as she slipped away from yet another meeting, she encountered a mysterious figure lurking in the shadows. As she moved closer, she was met with a handsome male, who was taken aback the minute she laid eyes on him.

“Are you new here? I have never seen you before” she inquired, her lips curving into a tentative smile.

“I- I am… kind of” the male stammered.

“I rarely have the opportunity to meet new people. I’m Y/n” she introduced herself, extending her hand.

“Your highness” he bowed respectfully “I’m Azriel”.

“I see you’ve heard of me. I had hoped otherwise” Y/n remarked, a tinge of disappointment in her tone.

“Of course, you are the princess of Vallahan. Why is it that you don’t want to be recognized?” Azriel inquired with genuine curiosity.

Y/n sighed softly “Because the moment people find out who I am, they start treating me with formality and- and distance”.

“I see” a gentle smile appeared on his face “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Depends”.

“If you keep our encounter a secret, I promise to return and engage with you on a more casual level” he offered.

“Alright. Your secret is safe with me” her eyes sparked with excitement, but little did she know that her trust just made Azriel’s mission a lot easier.

As days and weeks passed, Azriel would come and start a conversation with her , gradually coaxing Y/n to confide in him about the war discussions she detested attending. Unbeknownst to her, she began to harbor feelings for him, while Azriel, in turn, found himself unexpectedly drawn to her. However, their affection took a tragic turn one night when Y/n failed to appear at their customary location. Concerned for her well-being, Azriel , being a shadowsinger, inquired about her whereabouts and teleported to her chambers, only to find her in tears.

“Y/n?” He spoke softly.

“A-Az?” she was startled by his sudden presence.

“What’s wrong?” seeing tears in her eyes, made him feel something he didn’t wish to.

“How did you get in here?” She quickly wiped away her tears.

“That’s not important right now. Who hurt you?” He asked, stepping closer with concern.

“No one. It’s just… I am a fool. I thought that somehow my father would not join this war. Despite knowing his nature, I had little hope. I just- I don’t understand. I’m just tired and I don’t wish to talk about this today” she rubbed her face wearily.

“It’s alright. You are not a fool. You simply see the best in everyone” he hesitated before sitting at the corner of her bed.

“And look where that got me”.

Unsure if he should proceed, knowing that he’s also not as good as she thinks he, he decided to speak up “Y/n, there’s something I need to tell you”.

She turned to face him, curiosity all over her face “what is it?”.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”.

She chuckled softly “You know I can’t. I have a responsibility towards my people”.

“But with the war looming, doesn’t that change things?” He hoped she’d agre, that she’d be out of harm’s way when the war started. When they had to fight her father, her people. He had hoped that he’d be able to protect her, to spare her, but deep down he knew. He knew that was not going to happen, especially since he’s been lying to her, manipulating and deceiving her all this time, she’d never accept once she found out the truth.

“There was a time when I wanted to run away, to go very far away and never look back. To be free, but I cannot, Az” she responded.

“Please” he pleaded.

“Why do I sense there’s something you’re not telling me? Why the sudden talk about leaving?” she moved closer, placing her hands atop his.

He took a deep breath before speaking again “because I’m leaving tonight. I’m returning home-“.

“Well, you can always come back” she interrupted.

“No, you don’t understand. My home is not here, it’s far away and I won’t be returning, at least not in the same manner” he clarified.

“Not in the same manner? Az, you’re not making any sense. If your home is far away, why were you here?” She withdrew her hands, but he held onto hers.

“I am sorry for what I am about to tell you and know that I truly am sorry for everything. It was not supposed to end like this. I initially came here to spy on your father and report back to my high lord. When you caught me and I realized who you are, I saw an opportunity and I took it. I know it was wrong, and I apologize. If I could take it all back, I would, but I can’t. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you deserve the truth. When the war starts, we’ll find ourselves on opposite sides and I- I wanted to get you out of here. You’re not like th-“.

“Do not finish that sentence” she shook her head, trying to hold the tears from falling “I was a fool. I should’ve known. You- you… All this time I’ve been working for the enemy without knowing it, how am I supposed to face my people now? Get out! I never want to see you again” she declared, feeling something inside her fracture.

“Y/n, please. I-“.

“Leave. NOW! I don’t want to hear anything that comes out of your mouth. Leave before I call the guards” she shut her eyes, not knowing what she was hoping for: for him to stay or for him to do as she says and leave forever.

He was about to say something, but seeing how much pain he had caused her, he chose to comply. When she reopened her eyes, he had vanished, as though he had never been there. All the memories, the joy he had brought her, it was all a lie. Her heart broke into a million tiny little pieces that night. He left her the night she needed him the most. That night made her choice to join the war easier.

—-

On the battlefield she had hoped to encounter him. She didn’t know the extent of his power, she had only heard rumors about what he could do in the past two days. Yet, today, she decided she’s going to fight him. From a distance, she could spot two warriors that were distinct from the rest, and she knew one of them was Azriel. She fought her way to him and the minute she reached him, her heart sank. She still loved him, but she couldn’t back down now. She owed her people for what she had done. All that blood was on her hand. She gave him all the information he needed to attack and slaughter them. Even if she can’t defeat him, she’ll at least die with her people. As she reached him, he froze as his eyes met her. Azriel always knew what to do, but at the moment he was lost and he was afraid. She saw his hesitation and took that to her advantage and attacked him. He easily blocked her attack, but she kept swinging her sword at him. He kept in a defensive position, not wanting to hurt her by mistake, he has already done enough damage. Y/n was getting frustrated, trying harder and harder to land a blow on Azriel, determined to defeat him. He moved with precision, effortlessly blocking each blow she aimed at him, his movements a silent plea for her to stand down, but she would not yield, her determination fueled by rage and hurt. That rage was controlling her, blinding her, making her vulnerable. With a swift motion, Azriel disarmed her, his blade halting just short of her chest as he held her at bay “this doesn’t have to end this way” he urged, barely able to speak, his heart aching at the sight of what she had become. In that instant, she realized she could never defeat him or erase him from her heart. He had won twice, and she refused to let him win again. With that, she knew the only way out…she moved forward, letting the blade pierce her heart.

“NO!” Azriel screamed, retracting the blade immediately. Blood filled her lungs and covered her chest. As she began to fall, he caught her, his hands soaked with her blood “why would you do that?” He whispered, cradling her in his arms.

“It was the only way. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop loving you. I couldn’t let you win” she caressed his cheek.

“Stay with me” he pleaded, holding her tighter.

“It’s alright. I-I for-give-you” she uttered with her dying breath, her hand slipping from his face.

“I’m sorry” he repeated, bringing her lifeless body closer to his chest, his forehead resting against hers

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

deep fried delights <3 chapter 1

schlatt meets someone (you) at the carnival in town

schlatt didn't want to go to the carnival: it was loud, everything was sticky, the games were rigged, the food was overpriced, the rides were basically held together by hopes and dreams … ugh.  he didn't want to go.

but ted did. ted wanted to go so badly that schlatt would’ve felt like a loser if he’d said no, like the worst friend ever; so, he said yes, much like when you share your food with a begging puppy.  when ted said that they could make a video out of it, schlatt was caught in an unrejectable deal!

he was right, though: loud, sticky, rigged, overpriced, dangerous- he listed the flaws to the camera as they appeared on his mental checklist as the two of them walked around, trying to decide what to do first.  should they risk their lives yet? play rigged games? play unrigged children’s games? get food so schlatt didn't get hangry? yeah. food sounded good. after all, what is a fifteen-dollar foot-long hotdog to a rich man?

they continued to walk on the uneven dirt of the park until… schlatt spotted a common, but intriguing, sight: an abandoned photobooth strip.

the people in the pictures looked so unhappy that it tugged at his heartstrings: a cocky man with obvious anger and control issues, and, next to him, the most beautiful person schlatt had ever seen, crying their heart out, and missing from the last picture…

ted snapped him out of his haze to continue the trek to the food trucks before he left schlatt alone in the crowd of people.

~~~

three years. you had been with that jackass for three years, and he had dumped you on your anniversary at the same carnival that you had gone to for your first date.  on top of that, there was then photographic evidence of the event that you were sure he was gonna go jerk off to for the rest of time.  oh, well, you still had a bunch of points to spend and you weren’t sure if you’d go next year, so you figured that you may as well hit everything you can; 

it was time to collect your thoughts in line for the ferris wheel. the thought alone sparked a feeling of dread at the memory of your parents playing a “prank” on you by shaking the car and telling you that it was gonna break under you. ugh.  and if worst had come to worst? if the wheel broke, you’d sue and use the money to start a bakery or something.  you could plan your tactical strategy for hitting every game on the way out in order to be as fast as possible in the long, long line. 

when you had gotten about halfway through the line, you noticed a man gawking at you.  thoughts raced through your mind: should I call security? maybe he’ll go away if i ignore him.  you took out your phone and continued deleting all of the pictures and videos of you and he-who-shall-not-be-named, so that you didn’t have to do it later when you’d break down at home.  

god, the man was too tall to just stare at people like that. slenderman-esque, you thought.

~~~

fans.  everywhere.  they swarmed ted and schlatt like piranhas swarm to a drop of blood; it was utterly horrifying to experience, as always.  so, he slipped away as soon as he could, leaving the rest of the crowd he didn’t get to, to eat ted alive. he’d attend ted’s funeral if they found his remains. 

he had about ten to fifteen minutes until he had to reconnect with ted.  what should i do when i don’t even wanna be here? he thought. he walked around aimlessly for a minute before he noticed someone, someone familiar - you!

it was you, the beautiful person from the photo strip! he took the strip out of his pocket to compare: you were even prettier when you weren’t crying your heart out. schlatt felt something in his chest try to fly away, uncomfortable yet intriguing.

he weighed his options: either give you the pictures and get a chance to talk to you (but also risk you getting upset at the sight), or he could walk away then and there and hope that you hadn’t called security for the giant man that was staring at you for the past minute.

you had made eye contact, and his dumb fucking heart decided to take control, his feet carrying him forward.  he had felt way braver than he had any right being at the moment.

“hey, i, uh, found this…” he got lost in your eyes for a second before shaking his head and continuing, “thought you might want it back.”  he very quickly realized you probably didn’t want pictures of what looked like a horrible moment.  “i- i mean, i’m sorry, uhh… you probably don’t-” 

he looked up from his shoes when he heard a sniffle.

tag list: @xoxoave @sonnyjune @jschladderall @manticore-fangs

reviewed by: @manticore-fangs and @jschladderall

edited by: @jschladderall

AAAAAAAA I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT

[srvbryn]

Luke Castellan. Detention

Not set in riordanverse & highschool au!Luke; MASTERLIST

Luke Castellan X f!reader

Summary: "Well, well, look who's joined the detention club" Luke gets detention — He misplaced his history textbook, and what's better than stealing borrowing it from the library?

Warning: teenagers acting like teenagers, not a lot of dialogues, they have houses like the one in Harry Potter lol (only mentioned once) & Reader house is not mentioned, this is a bit boring

The detention room felt confined, with time moving at a snail's pace. Luke sat there, tracing imaginary patterns on the desk, the minutes ticking away like a never-ending countdown.

Just when he thought he was alone with the hum of Mr. D and the ticking of the clock, the door creaked open, and in walked (Name), a smirk on her lips.

"Well, well, look who's joined the detention club," Luke teased.

(Name) rolled her eyes and took the seat next to him. "Figured I'd keep you company. Detention is always more fun with a partner in crime, right?"

Luke couldn't help but chuckle — "Partner in crime, huh? I like the sound of that."

As the minutes passed, the two of them had whispered conversations, exchanged notes, and made light of the situation.

(Name) couldn't resist making fun of Luke's situation.

"So, what's the grand crime that got you in here, Luke?" she asked with a sly grin.

A few hours ago — LUKE CASTELLAN

Luke's risky textbook stealing borrowing scheme involved a well-thought-out strategy that, avoided the school administration's watchful gaze.

He may or may not have misplaced his textbook accidentally.. hahaha

However, this time, it was a classic case of overconfidence that led to his downfall.

Luke decided to carry out his plan during the school assembly, when most teachers were busy with maintaining the wandering student body under control.

Confident that he could slip in and out like a shadow, he ventured into the classroom, only to find himself face-to-face with the one teacher who had decided to stay behind to organize some papers.

As he reached for the textbook, Mr. Chiron looked up from his work and caught Luke in the act. The moment was frozen, and an uneasy silence filled the room.

Luke's grin faded into a sheepish smile as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse.

Mr. Chiron raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Luke Castellan, what exactly are you doing in here during the assembly?"

Luke scratched the back of his head, attempting to feign innocence. "Oh, you know, just wanted to get a head start on some reading. Education waits for no one, right?"

"Nice try, Mr. Castellan. I don't recall giving you permission to access the library during the assembly. Detention it is."

And that's how Luke's textbook borrowing adventure came to an abrupt halt, leading him to the very detention that (Name) chose to join.

Luke leaned in, a gleam in his eyes. "I may have liberally borrowed some textbooks without asking. The school administration didn't appreciate my innovative approach to study materials."

(Name) burst into laughter, earning them a stern look from Mr. D. "Classic Hermes house move. Couldn't just check out a classroom book like the rest of us, huh?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides, I thought it added a touch of rebellion to my academic pursuits."

The two of them continued to jokes, causing the otherwise boring detention surprisingly pleasant.

The more they chatted, the more (Name) realized there was more to Luke than his rebellious exterior.

They even swapped a few sarcastic comments about the school's absurd rules. (No phones allowed, must wear a tie all the time, don't run in the hallways (the usual))

The teacher on duty, Mr. D, sat at his desk, buried in paperwork (surprisingly) unaware.

Luke discreetly crumpled a piece of paper and passed it to (Name) with a glint in his eyes.

They exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing on their next move. (Name), with a suppressed giggle, aimed the paper at the back of Mr. D's head and let it fly.

The paper landed with a soft thud, catching the teacher's attention. He turned around, narrowing his eyes at the seemingly innocent duo.

"Alright, who did that?" Mr. D demanded, scanning the room.

Luke and (Name) exchanged innocent glances, attempting to suppress their laughter. Mr. Anderson sighed, suspecting he was dealing with a pair of children.

As Mr. D returned to his paperwork, the both of them couldn't resist another attempt at amusement.

This time, Luke folded the paper into an aeroplane. With a quick motion, he launched it at Mr. D, causing it to glide gracefully through the air.

The paper airplane did a loop-de-loop before landing on Mr. D's desk, right in front of him. He looked up, a mix of irritation and bemusement on his face.

"Alright, that's enough. We're in detention, not a paper competition," he scolded, shaking his head.

Luke and (Name) exchanged a glance, barely containing their laughter.

As the final minutes of detention passed, Mr. D kept an eye on them, suspecting that more antics were on the way.

Luke and (Name), however, had already shared enough laughs to make their time in detention enjoyable.

Luke couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as the clock ticked down to the end of their detention.

He glanced at (Name), a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Same time tomorrow, partner?"

(Name) raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. "Only if you promise not to get caught every time."

Luke chuckled. "Deal."

[lozchi]

*INHALES!!*

TAEHOON WITH A FIGHTER READER!.. please..🥺🥺 like imagine him being attracted to the reader.. because he thinks she's strong 🥺🥺.. like he'll follow her around, not exactly knowing what to do or say.. like he'll try to "challenge" her out of nowhere.. forcing her to join the dojo.. 🥺🥺.. and imagine if the reader declines because she want to prioritize her "studies"..

SORRY IF IT'S COMPLICATED 😂😂

A/N: It's not complicated at all since I actually daydreamt of this scenario so many times, all good! LMAO I MISSED HIM SO MUCH I'M CRYING (not proofread, I'll probably edit this later haha, I dunno.) For you, @geto-s-one-n-only !

Pairing: Taehoon Seong x Reader | Request had a fem reader in mind but there are no pronouns, this is gender-neutral.

Themes: you're a badass and Taehoon is whipped.

wc: 2,222 words

You were a NewTuber who gained a large following by teaching martial arts with clear instructions, impressive techniques, and a charismatic personality. Your channel has turned into a popular destination for fans of martial arts, attracting viewers globally, including the famous Hobin Yoo.

One day, Hobin himself reached out to you, intrigued by your skills and eager to collaborate. He saw the potential for a dynamic and inspiring partnership that could benefit both of your audiences. While you were excited by the opportunity, not everyone shared the same enthusiasm. Taehoon, upon hearing about the collaboration, remained indifferent. He had his own standards and wasn’t easily impressed.

However, the rest of the HYC held immense respect for your moves and teaching methods. They had seen your videos and were keen to create content with you. Hobin, recognizing the value you could bring, arranged for a one-on-one session to showcase your talents. Gyeoul attended the session and was thoroughly impressed by your techniques and teaching style.

Despite the respect from the crew, you were aware of Taehoon's dismissive attitude and decided to challenge him to a sparring match. Confident in his own abilities, Taehoon accepted, exuding his usual cocky demeanor. However, as the match progressed, it became clear that he had underestimated you. Your skill, strategy, and precision in the fight ultimately led to his defeat.

Taehoon’s loss was a humbling experience for him, and he couldn’t get you out of his mind after that.

-

It was a regular afternoon, and you had just finished recording a video on how to improve your kicks. Feeling satisfied with the session, you took a shower to freshen up, then retreated to your room for some much-needed rest. As you lay back on your bed, you decided to grab your phone and check your notifications.

To your surprise, you saw a message from someone you didn't expect: Taehoon. His message was brief and to the point:

Taehoon: wyd

You quickly responded, curious about the unexpected communication.

You: Nothing much, I just finished a vid :D

You sent the message and noticed that he had read it almost immediately. But then, there was no reply. Minutes turned into a considerable amount of time, and you found yourself left on read. It was a strange occurrence, but you shrugged it off, figuring that Taehoon might have had other things to attend to.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, it buzzed again with another message from Taehoon.

Taehoon: fight me.

I want a rematch.

-

It turned into an almost regular thing; every now and then, you'd have a sparring session in the dojang with Taehoon. These matches gradually evolved into regular hangouts, where the two of you would spend time together outside of training. One day, you both decided to grab ice cream after a particularly intense session.

"As I was saying, those cramps worsened over time since I forgot to stretch." you said, licking your ice cream as you recounted your story.

"Huh, never had to deal with that even as a beginner." Taehoon remarked with his annoying smug expression. Suddenly, his eyes darted to something behind you. "What's that?" he pointed somewhere behind you.

Instinctively, you turned to look, and in that brief moment of distraction, Taehoon leaned over and took a lick of your ice cream.

"Why you-!" you exclaimed, smacking his arm playfully.

"That's what you get for being an idiot." he retorted with a smirk.

"I'm not an idiot!" you shot back.

"Oh yeah?" Taehoon raised an eyebrow. "Your ice cream's melting and dripping down your hand right now, and you don't even notice."

You glanced down and saw that he was right—your ice cream was indeed melting and making a mess. With a frustrated sigh, you tried to salvage what you could.

"Tsk, I can't with you." you muttered, shaking your head as Taehoon chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. 

You checked your phone and saw it was getting late. "Hey, I had a lot of fun today, but I need to go and study." you said, getting ready to leave.

"I'll take you home." Taehoon offered without hesitation.

"That's sweet of you, but I can do just fine." 

"I'm not asking for permission. I'm taking you home. It's dangerous at night." Taehoon insisted, his tone firm.

"I can easily beat you in a fight. What makes you think I can't go home by myself?" you challenged him. Grrr, take the hint.

"I go easy on you sometimes, y'know?" he scoffed, not willing to back down.

You groaned and turned to leave, but he followed right behind you. "You should train in our dojang sometime." he suggested as you walked.

"Well, that's not really necessary. You already know I have somewhere else to train."

There was a brief silence between you, the sound of your footsteps filling the night air, until Taehoon broke it again.

"When can we fight again?" 

"Not sure," you admitted. "I'll be putting off my vids for a bit since I have exams."

"I'll help you study." he offered, surprising you with his sincerity.

"That's nice of you, but we both know you're just gonna end up distracting me." you said, shaking your head with a smile.

"Yeah, that's right." he admitted, laughing lightly.

"Yeonwoo can probably be more helpful than you," you added, trying to gently let Taehoon down while keeping the conversation light.

"You're comparing me to a nerd? Tch, seriously?" Taehoon retorted, clearly annoyed by the comparison.

"A really kind, good-looking, strong nerd," you added with a smirk, knowing this would get under his skin.

"Tsk. Whatever." he muttered, but you could tell he was slightly flustered.

You seized the opportunity to tease him further. "Aww, are you jealous?"

"You're getting way ahead of yourself, idiot."

"I'm not an idiot!"

The two of you continued to bicker playfully, your voices filling the quiet night as you walked. The retorts and comebacks only fueled the banter.

As you finally reached your doorstep, you turned to face Taehoon. "Well, this is me."

"Yeah, yeah." he replied, his tough exterior cracking just enough to show a hint of a smile. "Don't stay up too late studying."

"I won't," you assured him. "Thanks for walking me home."

"Whatever."

"Good night~"

"Good night."

-

Exams were nearing, and you were studying your ass off, as promised, taking some time off from your NewTube channel to focus on your exams. The pressure was intense, and you spent countless hours buried in textbooks and notes. Despite your dedication to studying, Taehoon wouldn’t leave you alone. He seemed determined to keep you company, whether you liked it or not.

You found yourself sitting on the floor, textbooks spread out around you as you racked your brain over a particularly challenging problem. You sighed in frustration, feeling the weight of the upcoming exams bearing down on you.

Just then, Taehoon leaned in, his face inches away from yours. "This has the same solution as problem 6."

"A-ah, yeah. Thanks." you stammered, trying to focus on the problem at hand while your heart raced.

The day after your exams, you received your results and were thrilled to see that you had passed with a good grade. Eager to share the news, you sought out Taehoon and showed him your grades.

"Turns out the idiot isn't an idiot at all," Taehoon commented with a smirk, clearly impressed but maintaining his usual teasing demeanor.

"Huhuhu~" you laughed triumphantly, feeling a rush of pride and relief.

"So, are you free to—" Taehoon began, but you cut him off with a grin.

"Let's train together. You, me, at the dojang."

"Alright, let's see if that brain of yours can keep up with your fists."

"You'll be eating those words soon enough."

-

As you entered the mat, you could sense the well-known surge of adrenaline. Taehoon was positioned in front of you, staring intensely into your eyes with a competitive spark.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" he teased, his usual smirk in place.

"Hah. You wish." you shot back, a confident smile tugging at your lips.

As the minutes passed, the fight grew fiercer. You managed to land a solid kick, but Taehoon quickly recovered, countering with a series of rapid attacks. 

In a swift, unexpected move, you managed to sweep Taehoon's legs out from under him. He fell to the mat, and you followed through, pinning him down. Breathing heavily, you looked down at him, a triumphant grin on your face.

"Got you." you said, breath hitching.

Taehoon, still catching his breath, looked up at you with an expression of surprise and admiration. As the adrenaline began to subside, the intensity of the moment shifted. His hand reached up, and with a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock of hair from your eyes.

-

Look, whatever happened after that fight might have slipped your mind, but for Taehoon, it was etched in his mind 24/7. It haunted him for weeks—maybe even months, who knows? The intensity of that moment had a profound impact on him, and despite his usual demeanor, he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting more.

He respected you as a fighter, admired you as a friend, but he was greedy. No matter how difficult or complicated it might seem, he wasn’t ready to let you go.

One day, as you were discussing various things, Taehoon suddenly interrupted. His tone was serious, and there was an intensity in his eyes that caught you off guard.

"Date me." he said, his words coming out with surprising bluntness.

You blinked in confusion. "Ah—Huh."

 Then, it hit you, and your eyes widened in disbelief. "HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHH?!?"

"You heard me."

"But—" you began, trying to process his unexpected confession.

"I'm not asking for your permission, I'm—" he started, but you cut him off.

"You already know my answer. You always call me an idiot. Hmph." you retorted, trying to play it cool despite the rapid fluttering of your heart.

"So it's a..." Taehoon trailed off, waiting for your response.

"A 'yes', you nutjob."

-

Being in a relationship with Taehoon didn't bring about significant changes; the main difference was the increase in intimacy.

While practicing alone, Taehoon occasionally observed you from afar, showing his admiration through his eyes. It was a fresh, more subdued method for him to display his backing and love–or like, whatever.

Still, his friends couldn't help but observe the change in Taehoon's behavior. 

“Taehoon is a simp, haha.” Snapper said with a grin.

“Shut the fuck up, you're just sad you don’t have a girlfriend.” Taehoon shot back.

“Hey! That’s a little uncalled for!”

“Haha, you deserved that.” Hobin added with a chuckle.

“Seriously though, how did you pull a complete 10?” Snapper asked, genuinely curious.

“Simple, I’m not you." Taehoon replied with a smirk.

Hobin burst into laughter at the retort. Despite the teasing, there was a genuine sense of pride and happiness in Taehoon’s voice. His expression softened as he looked at you. Seriously though, he felt so lucky to have you. The light-hearted banter among his friends only underscored how much Taehoon valued you. It was clear that, despite his tough exterior, he was deeply appreciative of the connection you shared.

Taehoon felt incredibly fortunate to have you in his life. It wasn’t just about having a sparring partner, though that alone was something he deeply appreciated. Training with you was a thrill; the intensity and skill you brought to the mat pushed him to be better, and he enjoyed the challenges you presented.

But you were so much more than that. You were his cuddling machine. Whether it was after a grueling workout or during a quiet evening, the way you nestled against him provided a sense of peace and closeness that he cherished deeply.

You were a thoughtful listener to him as well, truly hearing him out when he talked about the latest fight tactics or shared thoughts about his day. Your capability to listen without criticism and provide considerate replies established you as a reliable confidant in every way.

On top of that, you were his favorite yapper. Your lively, animated nature kept things interesting and full of life, adding an element of fun and spontaneity to your time together.

Taehoon felt immensely lucky to see your face every day. Simply seeing your smile or witnessing the sparkle in your eyes when you were happy brought a sense of joy. All these moments, whether significant or minor, accumulated into a profound gratitude for the special and irreplaceable impact you had in his life.

He took immense pleasure in admiring your moves, both in and out of the dojang. Whether it was the precision of your kicks or the graceful way you moved, he found inspiration in every aspect of your skill. Watching you train, grow, and excel was a sign of how lucky he was to share his life with someone as talented and remarkable as you.

Taehoon felt extremely fortunate to have you as his. Every day he spent with you only reminded him of how unique and invaluable you were to him.

When you and Taehoon faced off, you couldn’t help but notice a momentary lapse in his focus. "You taking this seriously or nah?"

Taehoon glanced at you, refocusing his gaze. "Relax, babe. I was just getting started."

[diminuel]

The comedic gold of Dragon saving Sabo and theres this whole “kids cant be jn the RA its dangerous” and then like 2 minutes later Dragon has Sabo training with like. Child army infrastructure. Why did he have that. Why is the information we get on Dragon presented in the funniest order possible.

That man works in mysterious ways.

But I'm not sure the child army infrastructure is part of the manga? I did take note of it in the anime but I don't remember seeing it in the manga.

But Sabo clearly stayed with them because we do get to see a panel (much later) of him training with Kuma. So children at least affiliated with the RA wasn't a no go for Mr. Supreme commander. (I'm a bit uncertain in general of the RA's strategies when it gets to liberating people/ recruiting them to the RA.)

It was apparently safe enough for Sabo to grow up on RA bases. So why not Luffy? We don't know for sure why Dragon left Luffy, though it's not a stretch to assume it wasn't only because Luffy was a potential liability to him (a "weakness" as he says it. And he is very "dramatic" about it so he must feel very fiercely about it) considering how we know that he tried to keep an eye on him and was even in Logue Town to "see him off". Sort of.

In any case, to be silly again, I think the fact that Dragon left Luffy on Goa in the questionable care of Garp while he took in Sabo (without doing enough research to figure out that there was a connection between Sabo and Luffy) is one of the main Dragon criticisms I've seen of those who take Crocodile's side in the divorce. Haha.

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 - ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 7: what friends don’t do (yearning)

Read on AO3

Read below the cut

She pulled the bread slices out of the oven and finished throwing together the salad—not that she thought he’d eat any of it.

He was busy setting her small dining table with silverware and napkins. A moment later, they were seated and digging in.

“That really was a good move,” he was saying between bites. “It woulda worked if you found a way to pin at least one of my arms. We can work on that next time.”

Lucy slathered some butter on a piece of bread. “Yeah,” she muttered mournfully. “I’ve been planning that one for a while. You kept getting me with those low sweeps—I wanted to try something that took advantage of that.”

“Not a bad strategy,” he hummed. “If you had your whip, you coulda used it. So at least in a real fight with a real bad guy, you could pull it off.”

Lucy pouted. “You can be a real bad guy when we spar.”

“What?” he cried. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“Really?” she drawled. “What about that time you—”

“That doesn’t count,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

They both were referring (or refusing to refer) to the time that Natsu had very indecently (and, he insisted, accidentally) groped her ass while trying to force her to release him from a quite complicated hold.

I didn’t know what I was grabbing! he’d sworn. You’d twisted us into a pretzel!

“Yeah, whatever,” she acquiesced. “Anyways… don’t you think I’m getting better?”

“Loads!” he said cheerfully, swallowing his last bite of fish before licking his fingers. “I don’t know if today counts as a real victory… but you’re getting stronger every time.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but she appreciated his honesty. He was leaning back in his chair lazily, watching her finish her plate. She felt a little self-conscious—she was wearing her typical t-shirt and pajama shorts, but his eyes seemed to be roaming a little more than normal. At first she wondered if she’d gotten food on her shirt—but upon looking down, nothing seemed out of place.

She stood and gathered their empty plates. She brought them to the sink and turned on the hot water, figuring she’d go ahead and clean them. When the water was warm enough, she doused the sponge with soap and began to scrub.

Is he just gonna watch me do this? she thought after a minute. I wish he’d do something useful, like take out the garbage…

She heard him stand with a grunt, and his bare feet padded quietly on the hardwood as he approached to stand behind her. While she rinsed the plates, she inspected his hazy reflection in the window above the sink: he was looking down at her with drooping eyes and a lazy smile. When his hands came to brace themselves on the bar on either side of her, her attention went from his reflection to the veins on his forearms, the calluses on his fingertips. His breath surprised her when it brushed her ear—but what surprised her more was when he continued to angle his head until his mouth hovered above her cheekbone. His lips brushed her skin lightly, as if testing for something, and then pressed firmly there.

“For the food,” he muttered.

When he didn’t release her from the trap of his arms, she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes from over her shoulder. His were piercing, watchful. His face was slightly red, but not anxiously so.

She swallowed. “I was happy to do it.”

His eyes flicked downward. “Yeah?”

Wrong thing to say, she thought in half panic. But upon second thought, she realized it might have actually been the perfect thing to say. She thought she’d say something else.

“Movie?” she asked, her voice cracking just enough to make her blush even harder.

His lips perked into an easy grin. “Sure.”

She cleared her throat. He released her.

As she changed into pajamas, she willed her heart to slow down and utterly failed. When she returned to the living room, she saw he had found a bag of popcorn and was pouring some into a large bowl. He never used the microwave; he was too impatient, and his magic was perfect for the job.

They settled on the couch, and he handed her the remote. “You pick,” he said, draping his arm over the couch back. She had her legs flung over his; it was a nice way to stay close without being so close that she couldn’t think.

“Really? Anything I want?” she teased, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn, which was wedged between his calves.

He curled his lip. “Nothing mushy.”

She giggled. “Thought so.”

Lucy shuffled through the different options that were available and settled on an action flick she’d seen once before. There was a romantic subplot, but she figured there were enough explosions to make up for it.

Thirty seconds in, they both sat up to grab more popcorn, meeting in the middle. Though they had both filled their hands, neither reclined again, favoring instead to remain near over the bowl.

Lucy watched him shove the entire bundle into his mouth in one go. As he licked his buttery fingers, she felt her stomach flip in recollection of his lips on her face mere minutes ago.

She brought a piece of popcorn to her mouth and placed it on her tongue behind her teeth. “Thanks for letting me pick,” she tested.

He fished out another handful, smirking sourly. “You did make dinner, after all.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap as she watched him stare at her absently. “Still…” she said.

She pushed herself up on her knees. Her hand sought balance on his shoulder. He stopped chewing. She moved quick, too afraid to linger in her uncertainty, and pecked him on his cheekbone—right where he had kissed her. The sound it made was sweet, and pronounced. She returned right away to her previous reclined position and filled her mouth with the rest of the popcorn in her hand. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her head back to the screen.

The movie trudged on. Lucy forced herself to focus on it, no matter how often she felt his gaze burning into the side of her face through the dark room. As his thoughtful silence persisted, she wondered if she had pushed it too far—if he was weirded out by her arbitrary reason for the affection.

She also knew he could definitely hear her heart racing. She wouldn’t be able to play pretend much longer.

But it seemed he was playing the same game. She was visibly red, but during a quieter part of the movie, he surprised her with a question.

“You cold?”

Lucy turned her head toward him, grateful for an excuse to inspect him outright for the first time in a half hour. “Huh?”

“Your feet are cold,” he observed, pushing his toes into the sole of her foot. His gaze was nonchalant.

“Oh. Uh… maybe a little,” she answered, a complete lie.

He sat up from his position leaning against the arm rest. He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and loosened it out of its fold. “Sit up,” he said.

She obeyed, eyes glued to his unreadable face.

Leaning forward to meet her, he flung the blanket around her back and secured it around her frame. She thought that’d be the end of it, but he scooted closer still, his hot fingers collecting her hair from her neck and freeing it from the confines.

He was close enough for her to smell the salt on his breath. “Better?” he breathed.

She nodded, dumbfounded and staring. He didn’t look away. After a moment, Lucy wondered what he was waiting for—that is, until he made a soft noise that was eerily close to a whine, angled his jaw toward her, and nodded his chin in a subtle expectant gesture while flicking his eyes to her mouth.

If her heart was pounding before, it was outright thundering now.

Her throat made a noise upon her sucking in a breath that sounded a lot like a gasp. She knew he heard it, but he still didn’t move. His fingers had left the blanket at some point and were resting lazily against her ankle, which was between them. Slowly, she leaned her face forward toward his, which he did a poor job keeping angled properly. When she was close enough, she had to turn her own head rather sharply to reach around to his cheek. When she made contact with it, she heard him exhale, and his eyes fluttered closed. She lingered for a beat, her nose brushing the skin she had just kissed before she slowly pulled away. He turned his head as she retreated, the breath from his lips ghosting over hers until she was too far for him to follow.

His fingers stayed on her ankle, pressing more firmly now. She didn’t recline fully back, but she did separate enough to regain her own air. The movie kept playing; a car crashed into the side of a brick building, flames breaking out on the screen. The room was dyed red by the television. Their skin flickered as they kept staring. Natsu’s jaw was clenched; hers was slacked.

He spoke again, and she almost didn’t hear over the loud sounds of the film. “Can I have some of your water?”

It took a second for his words to fully hit her, but once they did, she nodded rapidly, angling her body to turn and grab the half-full glass on the end table. He placed the bowl of popcorn on the ground, since all that was left were kernels. She resteadied herself on the cushion and handed it to him with both hands, worried her fingers would tremble.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, securing the glass from her.

She watched his throat bob up and down as he drank, and her throat ran dry. When he finished swallowing and returned it to her, she stole a couple of sips herself, emptying it. She placed it on the floor, not wanting to stretch far from him again, though she couldn’t bring herself to lift her attention from the ground.

He tapped his pointer finger twice on her ankle. He wanted her attention.

Slowly, she lifted her face up again, but she kept her eyes lowered. They were already sitting closer now than they were before, so he didn’t need to lean forward much to reach her. He brought his right hand to brush beneath her chin, tilting her up an inch. She couldn’t meet his eyes now—he was too close for that. His lips were warm on her cheek, and he placed them an inch closer. Closer to where friends would never kiss each other.

He barely pulled back. “Lucy…” he began, and his breath was on her cheek as he spoke. “Tell me... What am I supposed to do if everything you do makes me happy?”

Her heart was in her throat. They were so close now; they were breathing into each other’s necks. Her hands clung to his shirt, holding him there. “You’re exaggerating,” she whispered, clutching for a tone that was somewhat familiar while simultaneously longing for something new. “No way I make you happy all the time.”

His lips were on her ear now, dragging, not kissing. “What do I do?” he asked again.

Lucy kissed the scar on his neck. It was right there—she couldn’t help herself. “Whatever you want, Natsu,” was her faint answer.

He pulled back to look down at her, brows furrowed and lips parted. The television cast him in flickering rays of reds and blues and yellows. His right hand came to her neck, thumb tracing down her throat, then back up again. He brought his lips again to her, a mere inch from her mouth, and kissed her softly. He didn’t pull away. Her eyelids were permanently drooping now, gaze fixed low. She felt her head turning, and she wasn’t sure if she turned it herself or if his hand on her neck had done it.

Another kiss, a centimeter away now. She thought this was getting rather frustrating. “Natsu?” she urged, tilting the final bit to mingle their breaths.

It was timid, tantalizing—the way he brushed his lips over hers without actually kissing her. It was like he was mapping her out before landing. A stupid thing, in her view, and very unlike him. She wished he would barrel right in, just like he did with everything else. But she let him explore. Let the air electrify. And when he finally pressed against her mouth firmly, she whimpered.

His hands were on her face. This was a long, firm kiss. They both inhaled each other like a drug. When this kiss ended with a sweet sound that churned her gut, she was worried he’d pull away—but he didn’t. His mouth came back, lips rough but pliant, stealing every attempt of breath from her mouth. She had no idea kissing would be equally centered around teeth and tongues, alternating between avoiding and seeking them out.

After a minute, he realized all at once that his hands could do other things, too. He released her face and gathered her to his chest, yanking and tugging her close first by her clothes and then by the waist beneath them. He wasn’t content until she was in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips and his arms secured around her back.

His mouth was steaming hot. Tongue even hotter. It almost burned her own, and she sucked in a relieving breath when he pulled away to lap at her neck, which he could reach easily at this position. Her fingers were in his hair, on his shoulders, at his lower back, clawing the bottom of his shirt until it rolled up and exposed his skin.

Then, she was under him.

He propped his weight on his elbows by her head, her blond locks tangling in his fingers above. She bit his lip, and he found himself wanting to pull her hair, just a little, just to make her gasp. He tucked his hand under the nape of her neck and clenched his fist. When her mouth opened, he dove in again, deeper than before. Their foreheads brushed, and he felt the sweat collecting there.

He tore his mouth away, panting. She was wrecked beneath him, face almost as red as her lips and expression wild and helpless.

“Too hot?” he grunted, quiet but half savage.

Lucy, also panting, nodded her head. She could hardly think words, much less say them.

He peeled his body off of hers and brought her to sit up. He grabbed the empty glass on the ground and tore himself from the couch to fill it up in the kitchen. Lucy instantly shivered by the drop in temperature from his absence. She watched him return with heavy strides. He knelt in front of her on the ground and brought the glass to her lips. She drank until it was empty. As soon as the cup was removed from her lips, his mouth was back on hers for one, two, three firm kisses. But he wouldn’t suffocate her again, no matter the fact that she’d absolutely let him if he tried.

“Natsu?” Lucy squeaked. “I should tell you…”

His gaze was fixed on hers, his breath held. “What?” he urged.

“I lied to you before. About friends kissing each other on the cheek when they were happy.”

She could see his pulse beating through the vein on his neck. Her words made him nervous, she saw, so she chased him for another kiss, placing her arms over his shoulders. He swallowed it whole.

She continued against his lips, “It’s kinda… for people who are more than friends.”

His eyes flicked from her mouth to her brown irises. “We’re more than friends,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And after the thrill of his words settled into her heart, Lucy laughed. Hard.

“What is it?” he inquired anxiously.

Her forehead rested against his. “Nothing. Just kiss me again,” she said, smiling.

And he did.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Quite the Workout Part 3 -Oneshot

Sorry it took me a minute, but here's part 3. ;) I also don't necessarily like the nicknames Bucky calls reader in this one...but it seemed to fit the vibe of the story. Trigger warning: derogatory name-calling, smut Word count: 2603

Part 1 Part 2

“I’ve never been in this room before,” Y/N said, looking around the smaller workout room.

Bucky hummed.  “It’s one of the private workout rooms.”

She looked around at the equipment lining the walls, the mirror along the wall across from the door and a large mat covering the middle section of the room.  There were no windows, and she wasn’t sure but she thought she heard the click of the lock when Bucky closed the door behind them.  “Why do we need a private workout room if we’re just sparring?” she asked, though she had an inclination as to what it was Bucky had on his mind.

“So I can give you a private lesson,” he said matter-of-factly.  “Who better to learn hand-to-hand combat and sparring with than the one and only ex-Winter Soldier?”

Y/N lifted an eyebrow at him.  “I know hand-to-hand combat, Buck,” Y/N said.  “You’ve seen me do it before.”

“Yes,” he nodded, walking toward her.  “But you’ve never had to go up against me.”

Y/N huffed a laugh as his eyes narrowed, looking like a predator stalking its prey.  “You sure you won’t get a boner while trying to fight me?” she teased.

Bucky’s expression didn’t waver except for his lips slightly curling into a smirk.  “No promises,” he said.  

Y/N rolled her eyes and got into a defensive stance.  She let Bucky circle her, watching him carefully and trying to think of the next steps he could take.  She’d seen him fight in the field multiple times.  He was wicked fast, strategic, and quite lithe for a man his size.  He was taking small steps closer to her each time he circled, almost imperceptibly if she wasn’t so aware of him.  Like lightning he suddenly swung at her, and she barely dodged his attack by mere centimeters.  It slightly scared her, her eyes widening and muscles tensing.  Most people, especially men she had ever had to fight were pretty predictable, they’re bodies indicating what their next move would be with each twitch, back swing and twist.  But Bucky was like a wild cat, slinking toward her one way then surprising her going a different way.  His hits were heavy but precise.  She tried to keep her breathing even and composed.  It would do her no good to panic.  She moved so that her back would never face him, frowning as she focused on the task at hand.

Bucky’s smirk never left his face.  He knew he had the upper hand, and she knew it, too.  As much as she could hold her own against most assailants, an enhanced person was a totally different animal.  He finally stopped moving and waited for her to make the next move, his head tilting in both question and challenge at her.

Y/N couldn’t stand the anticipatory, charged silence and attacked, swinging her arm through the air toward his face.  She knew he would dodge it easily, so as he moved his head she twisted her body and punched his ribs with her other hand at the last second before springing away from him.

Bucky huffed a breath and smiled as he turned to face her.  “Good girl,” he praised her.  “Good strategy.”

Y/N shook out and flexed her hand that landed the punch.  It was like punching a brick wall.  As proud as she was at landing at least one punch, she didn’t let it deter her from being realistic about her chances.  She wasn’t enhanced, didn’t have any powers to help her.  They sparred for a while longer, Y/N doing her best to just not get hit or hurt.  Most of her movements were defensive or evasive, and she could feel her endurance diminishing as time went on.  Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes raking over her figure more often than not, which only made it harder for her to focus.  

“Would you quit ogling me and just fight?” she finally grunted as she missed hitting his torso once again.

“It’s not my fault you decided to spar with the tiniest, tightest shorts known to mankind,” Bucky retorted, his hungry gaze flitting over her lower half for the hundredth time.  “Trying to distract me with those thighs of yours.”

“Aw, I thought you liked my thighs,” Y/N said patronizingly.  The shorts had been a conscious decision, which he of course picked up on.  

“I do,” he winked.  “And that ass that’s practically hanging out of those shorts.  And what’s peeking at me between your legs every time you kick at me.”

Y/N smirked.  She conveniently hadn’t worn underwear, either.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said nonchalantly.  “I’m just here to spar with my mission partner.  It’s not my fault if he’s a horny, thigh-obsessed, sick little pussy puppy.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her.  He suddenly sprang forward and tackled her, blocking most of the fall with his body before rolling them over until he was on top of her.  Y/N squirmed and struggled, trying to fight him off but failing miserably as his metal hand gripped both of her wrists and held her hands up above her head and firmly against the mat.  She tried to lift her legs enough to kick him off, but he positioned himself between her legs, keeping them spread wide so she couldn’t bend them high or wide enough to get at him with her feet.  His flesh hand gripped her throat and she gasped as he squeezed.

“Watch your dirty mouth, baby,” Bucky growled, his face an inch away from hers.  His eyes were dark, his nose scrunched and lips curled over his teeth like he was snarling at her.  He looked more dangerous to her than he ever had before, opening up a flood of conflicting emotions that had her body responding in strange ways.  As much as she was panicking at being so easily taken down, her hips were trembling with need, her pussy hot and throbbing at the danger.  “Wearing the smallest shorts with no underwear to try and throw me off.  Once again, proving that if anyone is sick in this relationship, it’s you.”  He kissed her hard, making her hum against mouth as he stole the breath from her lungs.  The kiss was all tongue and teeth, nipping at her lips and sucking on her tongue before quickly pulling away.  He squeezed her neck again and she opened her mouth wide to suck in a breath.  He leaned down and licked a tear that she was unaware had fallen down the side of her face.  “Look at you, so desperate you’re shaking beneath me.  Such a sick, horny, pretty little bitch.”

Y/N nodded, her wrists trying to twist out of his grip.  His flesh hand moved down slowly from her neck and over her chest, kneading her breasts roughly and rucking up her tank top and sports bra so her breasts were exposed before traveling down her torso to the rim of her shorts.  He yanked them down, maneuvering her legs so he could pull them all the way off so she was opened wide and splayed out naked for him.  Y/N was panting at his rough treatment.  They had been together a couple of times since that mission where she had teased him about getting a boner watching her fight, but it had never been this rough or needy before.  She had once again said too much, done too much, and pushed him too far.  This was punishment.

Bucky never let go of her wrists, his metal hand a literal vise pinning her against the mat.  His flesh hand felt her all over, his fingers teasing her cunt and clit before quickly pulling away, then he would lean down and bite or lick along sensitive spots on her body until she was a whining, moaning, crying mess.  

“Bucky…please!” she cried out after he edged her again, pulling his fingers away from her pussy.

She yelped as he slapped her puffy pussy lips.  “What did you call me?” he asked gravelly.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry,” she pleaded, trying to grind her hips up toward him, his hard cock tenting his sweats and brushing against her every time he moved.  “Please Sergeant!  I can’t, I can’t handle it, please…”

Bucky tickled the space above her pussy with the tips of his fingers, sliding them up her stomach, making her flinch, then kneaded her breasts again, pinching her nipples too hard one at a time.  She thrashed her head back and forth, biting her lower lip to keep herself from being too loud.  Then he slapped her tits, and she shuddered with a long groan.  “You’re my little slut, aren’t you?”

“YES!” she screamed.  “I’m your little slut, Sergeant!”

Bucky smiled.  “Good girl,” he said, then sunk three fingers deep inside her.  Y/N moaned loudly at finally being filled, her head wrenching back against the mat with a thud.  His thumb rubbed at her clit as his fingers squelched in and out of her, changing the pace randomly and sporadically curling his fingers deep inside her, brushing against the special spot and teasing her.  

“Sergeant, can I please cum?” Y/N begged, her legs moving up over his hips and hooking her ankles behind his ass.

“No,” Bucky murmured.

Y/N whimpered at the denial, trying hard to stave off her impending orgasm.  She decided to try something else.  “Sergeant, will you please fuck me with your cock?”  His eyes snapped up to look at her.  “Please?” she quickly added again.  “I want your thick, fat cock inside me.  I need it.  Please?”

Bucky paused for a second before removing his hand from her pussy and pushing down his sweats and boxers just far enough to release his cock.  Y/N moaned at the sight of it, hard, long and thick, pulsing with need like she was.  He stroked himself, wiping her wetness onto himself before rubbing the tip through her lower lips.  She shook again, desperate for him but trying not to move too much for fear that he would take it away.  

“This what you want, baby?” he teased her, rubbing her clit with the tip of his cock.

“Yeah, yes, Sergeant,” she whispered.  

“Is this what your pretty little pussy needs?” he asked, rutting his hips against her so his cock length ran up and down through her pussy lips.  Y/N nodded frantically, shivering each time the head of his cock would catch against her clit or at her entrance.  “Is this what my pretty little bitch needs?  So desperate for my cock.  You gonna take all of me?”  She nodded again, more tears falling down the sides of her face.  “But you’re not gonna cum til I say so, are you, slut?”

Y/N shook her head.  “No, I won’t cum til you say so, Sergeant.  Please!”  She knew how desperate and insane she sounded, but couldn’t find it in herself to care.  It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago this would have been unfathomable to her.

Bucky hummed, then suddenly slammed himself all the way in with one hard thrust.  Y/N sobbed at finally being filled the way she wanted so perfectly like only he could.  He harshly blew out a puff of air, his eyes shut tight as he tried to keep himself composed.  “Jesus, baby.  Always so tight for me.”  Her pussy fluttered and he moaned.  “Don’t cum,” he grunted, his eyes opening and glaring at her in warning.

Y/N shook her head again.  “I won’t, I–mmh,” she moaned as he snapped his hips into her.  “I won’t,” she whined.  Bucky’s gaze raked over her, his flesh hand moving to grip and feel her thigh over his hip.  He rolled and thrust his hips into her at an agonizingly slow pace, letting her feel every inch of him moving in and out of her.  Y/N’s fingers were going numb from the tight grip of his metal hand around her wrists, and she whined again.  “Sergeant, can I please touch you?”  

Bucky looked like he was getting lost in the sensation of fucking her, and he absentmindedly nodded, his metal fingers releasing her wrists slowly.  She stretched and flexed her hands and fingers as she lowered her arms and reached up to cup the sides of his face.  Her nails scratched his beard and back into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shivered at the feeling.  Her hands felt him down his back then tugged at the bottom of his shirt, which he quickly pulled off and flung it aside.  With his metal hand now free he used both hands to feel her up, the cool metal feeling soothing against her warm skin.  Her nails dug into his back as his thrusts got harder.  “I love it when you mark me up,” he groaned.  

Bucky’s metal hand moved back up towards her neck, and he gripped her throat while his flesh hand nestled at her pussy.  As his metal fingers slightly squeezed her throat his flesh fingers started flicking at her clit.  Y/N’s hips bucked under him, her legs starting to shake around his hips.  “Sergeant!  Please, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.  Please, can I cum?”  She was begging, something she never thought she would do.  “I’ve been so good for you, Sergeant, please?  Please please please please?”

His metal hand squeezed harder and she gasped, her eyes shutting tight.  His hand moved away and tapped her cheek hard, making her eyes snap back open in shock.  “You think you deserve to cum after teasing me?  After calling me a…what was it?  ‘A sick, little pussy puppy?’”  He was driving his hips into her impressively fast and hard, his flesh fingers never stopping on her clit.

Y/N whimpered.  “I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

Bucky smirked.  “I do love this pretty pussy,” he said, tapping her clit quickly with his fingers.  “So if that makes me a sick puppy, so be it.  But you will always be my pretty, little, desperate-for-my-cock-bitch, won’t you?”          

“Yeeesss,” she hissed when he roughly tapped her clit again.  “Yes, Sergeant.”

“That’s my good girl,” Bucky smiled.  His fingers started rubbing and flicking her clit fast, his thrusts getting more brutal by the second.  Her pussy fluttered around him dangerously and his metal hand went back to her throat, squeezing harder until her eyes rolled back.  “Cum, baby.  Cum on my cock, you desperate cumslut!”

Y/N finally let herself relax enough so that his fingers drove her over the edge and she came hard around him with a garbled scream, her entire body shaking as her vision went white.  She heard Bucky’s loud groan above her and then felt him pull out of her fast, his heavy breaths panting as he stroked himself to finish, then she felt his hot cum spurt onto her right thigh, then a little on her left thigh.  She whimpered, her body limp, nerves feeling shot with overstimulation and yet numb all at the same time.  She felt Bucky’s lips replace his metal hand, kissing the red marks his fingers had made.  

“Good girl…my good fucking girl,” he murmured, nis nose and lips nuzzling along her skin up to her mouth.  “Your thighs have never looked prettier.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, her eyes still closed as his metal hand pulled her by the chin to face upwards so he could kiss her deeply.  She hummed as he pulled away.  “Yes Sergeant.”

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Daima

I just finished watching the first episode of Dragon Ball Daima, then I spent another twenty minutes figuring out how to take a screenshot of it, because I had to have this one of the bad guy shouting "Make them babies!" It's mine, Crunchyroll! You can't take it from me!

I don't want to get too deep into this, since this is a brand new show and a lot of people haven't had a chance to see it, so we'll keep this spoiler-free.

I've written about this before, but I wasn't too thrilled with the premise for this series. The main draw for me was Akira Toriyama, who wrote a message to the fans explaining what the show was about: Goku and his pals get turned into children, and they have to unravel a conspiracy to get to the bottom of it. I took a lot of comfort in this, because it showed that this wasn't just a gimmick for a new anime. Turning the gang into kids was a strategy, like Babidi mind-controlling Vegeta, or the Red Ribbon Army hiring Dr. Hedo, or King Piccolo trying to wipe out all martial artists. If de-aging the characters sells toys, great, but Toriyama understood that what sells the story is motive, and he made that clear very early on.

Then he died earlier this year, and I felt really bad about it. Let me be clear. It's not that I was worried about his death affecting the schedule or quality of Daima. What bummed me out was that his message from 2023 had given me so much confidence in the show. I liked reading it and thinking "Yeah, this guy really gets it." So when he died a few months later, I just felt acutely aware of what I had lost. There will probably be other Dragon Ball stories in the future, and I'm sure a lot of them will be good, or even great. But there will never again be a message from Akira Toriyama assuring us all that he won't let us down.

So I found it quite heartwarming to see this episode really spend a lot of time exploring the "why" of it all. I don't think it explains the full story. The title of the episode is "Conspiracy", which suggests that there's a lot more to be revealed later. But the basics are established. King Gomah binge-watched the entire Buu saga and he's worried that the guys who defeated Buu might disrupt his power base in the Demon Realm, so he's trying to nerf them before that happens. Of course, this will surely draw Goku's attention, so it kind of makes you wonder what he's got going on that would make him pull such a desperate preemptive strike.

So yeah, I think I'm finally on board with this series. It's not just superdeformed DBZ characters horsing around. There's a genuine hook to all of this, and I'm curious to see how it plays out.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 20

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Violence, murder

Fire-Roasted Revenge

You spent the next several days staking out the base, making a note of where and when guards were posted. You had a plan. The base was bigger than you anticipated. It would have been better to wait until Giemsa left on a ship. Though, you had never been patient and you had waited long enough for this moment. You waited until dark to execute your plan, and hopefully Giemsa.

You had picked off a few guards ands stolen the uniform of one of them, putting it on over your clothes, though keeping your coat on, of course. You put a torch in Mini's mouth and had her light up the perimeter, effectively trapping anyone inside, including yourself, but you would figure that out later. Then, you busted through the doors on boarback, whoever you didn't snipe in front of you was trampled by hooves. You were on a beeline to the captain's office, which was unfortunately in the center of the facility. As you went further, the marines started clearing out, either helping put out the fire or running from it. In the chaos, you were mostly ignored unless you were right in front of someone. 

You dismounted as you got close to your destination, changing strategy to be a little more inconspicuous. You had Mini wait down a hallway next to a window. It was your escape plan. It wasn't the smartest idea or the best one, but it would do. Before you left her, you thought for a second, grabbing a sword you had picked up and putting the handle in her mouth. Her tusks were sharp and dangerous on their own, but a sword probably wouldn't hurt. Plus, the pig seemed pleased to be wielding it. "Wait here. If I'm not back in 15 minutes, leave without me and meet me on the docks. And if I'm not there... it's been a pleasure working with you, Lieutenant." You pressed a kiss to her forehead and took off running. 

Your path was blocked by a few straggling marines, obviously scared out of their minds, but trying to carry out their duty until the end. Light smoke started to fill the hall. You could hear cries and screaming in the background, nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. You forgot how good the feeling of adrenaline was, and how good it would feel to be one step closer to your goal. "You can run and have a slow death or I can show you mercy. Choose." You leveled your gunblade at them. They fled. So much for duty. Melting wasn't a very pleasant feeling, you would know. 

The double doors in front of you were locked, not an obstacle for your devil fruit. You pushed them open and saw a man sitting behind a desk. "Giemsa," you said in a phony greeting. You see confusion on his face until you threw your uniform hat to the side. Then the man looked like he wanted to evaporate into thin air. The blood drained from his face. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." You laughed. "Maybe I am a ghost." You shot at him.

He had just enough sense left in his head to dodge. There was a metallic clang as his sword was blocked with your blade. He was faster now than he was then. You managed to back him up with your blade work, pulling the trigger only for him to roll away, leaving a bullet hole in the wall. The man coughed as darker, thicker smoke filled the room. You didn't even feel the stinging in your eye as you cornered him. 

"H-how are you alive?" 

"I told you. I'm a ghost." You brought your blade down hard, hands shaking as you grunted against the force of his own blade blocking you. Again, you heard screaming. This time you really heard it, though. The voices stirred something in you. In your brief distraction, Giemsa pushed you back, unbalancing you. Your mind was racing. Why did that get my attention? A bad feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You gritted your teeth and kicked him away from you, landing a shot as you did so. He fell to a knee with his side gushing blood.

The room started getting hotter and the screaming got louder. The smoke was starting to interfere with your vision. It hit you like a sea train. The screaming sounded eerily similar to... No. You looked from the direction of the screams to Giemsa on the floor. This was your chance to end him. "Fuck! Tell all your bastard friends that I'm coming for them." You ran in the direction of the screaming, dodging pieces of the ceiling that started to fall. You would be a hypocrite if you let something bad happen to your crewmates when the entire nidus for this revenge was because your former crew let something bad happen to you.

There wasn't a lot of time left. If you got out of this, you would have a massive target on your back now that they knew you were alive. Best case scenario is Giemsa burns alive here. There wasn't time to worry about that now. You were getting closer. These looked like interrogation rooms. You kicked the door down. Without wasting time you were removing shackles from wrists and ankles. "What the fuck are you doing here?! Who else is here?!" You had worry in your eyes as you looked into Quincy's. 

"Em-Emma and Dive." 

You grabbed her arm and hauled her over to the other doors. "Start checking all of them." You didn't want it to be true, that the screaming you heard was Quincy's. You could hear her voice crack screaming for her captain, but you still didn't want to believe. The amount of guilt you would have on your head if any of them died because of you... You kicked down doors until you came across Dive, releasing her in the same fashion as Quincy. You grabbed her and looked around to see Quincy pulling Emma out of a room, but she looked awfully limp. You ran to her and held Emma up from the side opposite Quincy. You pointed in the direction Mini was in. You hoped that boar still had a stubborn streak. 

"You goddamn pig! I told you to get lost!" You slapped her on the back as the four of you made it to the window. "But I'm glad to see you," you said, already helping Quincy and Dive onto her back so they could pull Emma up. "When you get out, you have to get as much fresh air into her as possible. Do you understand?" They both nodded.

"You're saying that like-"

"There's not enough room. I'll be fine." You really hated lying to your friends. You shot out the window and knocked the sharp edges from the frame. "GO!" You shoved Minerva towards the opening. 

You turned around to see fire blocking your path in every direction. The oxygen pouring in from the broken window fueled it to burn faster, hotter. Window it is. You climbed out the window, straddling the edge to see a clear exit path. There was another window that didn't have the orange glow of flames on the inside. Using your devil fruit, you made handholds in the brick of the outer wall. You looked down to see a brownish-red blob darting around the courtyard and breaking through a wall to get out. And they say I'm hard-headed. You climbed down towards the other window, but the brick under your hands was hot. Almost there. The skin on your hands started to burn as you swung yourself into the glass, landing in the broken shards. You got up, ignoring the pieces that were embedded in your flesh. 

Stumbling into the next hall, you were able to see through the smoke to a stairwell. Seeing that as your best route, you dropped to avoid the smoke that was building up, doing an army-crawl until you got to the stairs. The smoke was still thick, however crawling was not an option. Taking in a deep breath, you got up and ran down the stairs as fast as you could. Nearing the exit, you had to take in a breath. The heat and fumes scalded your throat. At this point you didn't feel very much. You knew you could heal it later. You had to get somewhere safe first. There was a great rumbling somewhere behind you. The ground started to shake harder as the rumbling got close. The building was coming down. You couldn't see well anymore. You ran in the direction of the exit, stumbling a few times as the smoke started to overtake you. At some point you looked down and you were on grass. You turned behind you to see a billowing cloud of rubble and flame. The second you found somewhere slightly hidden, you allowed your body to give out. Thank god. That would have been the lamest death ever.

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

Kid's head looked like it was about to explode when Pomp and Reck had told him earlier that day that some of the girls had gotten captured by marines. They hadn't even seen it happen. They only overheard some marines talking about it. Killer, Heat, Wire, and a few others were quick to volunteer to aid in Kid's cause to "kill all those marine bastards". 

"Looks like someone got here first." Killer observed. Smoke and flame licked at the sky through broken windows. 

A few marines were scattering like ants from the inferno. Kid dragged one over clutched in his metal grasp. "WHAT'S GOIN ON? WHERE ARE PRISONERS KEPT?" 

The marine was too scared to form a coherent sentence. 

"USELESS!" There was a squelching crunch before Kid tossed him to the ground. The flames were reflected in his eyes. "LET ME FIND OUT THAT BITCH SET THIS FIRE. IF A SINGLE HAIR IS BURNT ON ANY OF MY CREWS' HEADS I WILL RIP HER LIMB FROM LIMB!" Kid was about to barge into the burning mess when Killer held him back. 

"I don't think that's wise, Captain." 

"SO YER FINE WITH THEM BURNING ALIVE?" Kid looked like he wanted to deck Killer. 

"It's too dangerous! You know that!" The first mate was torn. Of course he loved his crew, but Kid was his best friend, the man who was going to be King of the Pirates. 

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! WHAT KIND OF CAPTAIN WOULD I BE IF I DIDN'T TRY?"

Killer released him. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. "Okay. I'm right behind ya then." No way would he let his captain go alone. Killer saw something in the distance and grabbed Kid again. "Wait! Look!" 

Kid looked in the direction Killer indicated. He saw the rotund shape of a boar. "I KNEW IT! WHEN I GET MY HANDS-" 

"No! On top!" Killer gently smacked Kid on the head.

The closer Mini got, they could make out their missing crewmates. Emma was conscious now, but drowsy. They were all covered in soot, had some minor scrapes, but there were no singed hairs on any of their heads. 

Killer helped them get down. He couldn't help but notice the obvious absence of the person he expected to see. "What happened?" He looked them over for any major injuries. Turning to the other pirates, he ordered them to take them all back to the ship and do their best first aid until he got back. 

Quincy was on the verge of tears, "It was Y/N. She saved us but...b-but..."

Dive finished for her, "But she's still in..." Her voice faded off as the building in front of them started to collapse. From one end to the other, it folded in on itself, spewing hot ash and smoke in all directions. 

They stared in silence. The only sound being the crackling of fire and the settling of twisted metal and crumbled stone. 

"Well," Kid started. "That's that then. Rest in pieces, Sea Snake." He turned in the direction of the Victoria Punk, but stopped. He could feel the eyes of Quincy, Emma, and Dive burning into his skull. "WHAT?! I'm only kidding." 

Even Killer gave him a disparaging look. 

Kid threw his hands up. "FUCK OFF, ALL OF YA! I can tell her stupid fucking gun's somewhere over yonder. Relax!" He flung his hand in the direction of the forested area next to the pile of rubble. Growling and muttering to himself, he grabbed Minerva by the tusk and tugged her in that direction. "Help me find her, pig!" As much as he didn't want to, he owed you. You had saved four of his crew now. Granted, the fire was your fault to begin with, and he wouldn't let you forget it either. 

The redhead thrashed through the forest, with Killer behind him, yelling about how stupid your gun looked and that you were lucky you didn't have a real weapon, since that would be indistinguishable from anyone else's. Kid stopped at the place he felt the presence of your gun and looked around. "I don't see anything. Time to go. We tried." 

Minerva snorted, nudging at what Kid thought was a soot-covered log. A log that coughed. Kid threw his head back and groaned. "Damn it all to hell. Fucking found her." Killer made a displeased sound. "I mean, phew. Good thing we found the twat," Kid amended. He knelt down and brushed some soot off your face just to make sure.

You were too exhausted to move. You felt someone jostling you a little, no, carrying you, and groaned. Peeling an eye open, you saw a very blurry image of mostly red. Your voice was raspy and grating, yet still carried a tone of disappointment, "Ugh. You." 

Kid hushed you, putting his hand over your mouth. "I'm not happy either but my girls would be very upset if I left ya." Kid yanked his hand back quickly and about dropped you right there. "DON'T FUCKEN BITE ME! Ya shouldn't be talkin!"

The great Captain Kid cares about your health? What next? Pigs flying? You frowned and tried to point. "Want Killer," it really did hurt to talk, you were realizing. 

"TOO DAMN BAD! YA GOT ME!" Kid grit his teeth. 

You could hear Killer laugh at Kid's discomfort. Have you ever heard him laugh out loud before? No. He only looked like he was laughing, never made a sound. You hummed, amused. "Your laugh," Killer tensed at your words. "It's nice."

Kid and Killer shared a glance. Unbeknownst to you, Killer was entirely pink under his mask. 

You let your eye close and decided to save your voice, no energy left to wonder if you were safe with them or not. You thought so, though. The soft, rhythmic tamping of Mini's hooves against the dirt and grass lulled you to sleep. 

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