#and the fact that she had the audacity to joke about it to get more eyes on her had me fuming

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[thatfreshi]

Can I request an Astarion x reader fic where the reader keeps getting hit on/cat called by random people, and she brushes it off at first but it slowly becomes evident that it really bothers her, and needs someone to intervene or comfort her?

TW - Sexual harassment, threat of kidnapping

Recommended Song: Used - SZA FT. Don Toliver

Ah taverns, such wondrous places of inebriation and sloppy people of all creeds. You and Astarion are party people, despite his introverted nature. It's more about being two people thriving in chaos, playing the other patrons like pawns to make the night exciting, flirting with a stranger to snatch their drink from the bar, and all of those morally grey things. Sure, maybe it's not ethical to steal, but it sure is fun.

It's not a secret that you are two of the most good-looking regulars, but it's also well-known that you're severely monogamous. In fact, it's gotten very close to voyeurism multiple times, which has gotten you kicked out of a couple places. You don't mind public displays of affection, even if they're a little far gone at times. All of that to say, it's hard not to notice when you arrive.

Ever since the death of Cazador, you've been living in luxury. Despite rejecting ascension, Astarion didn't mind getting his hands all over the stockpile of gold and jewels the Szarrs had at their estate. After all, you'd say he deserves it. It's almost like being nobility, adorned in gorgeous clothing amongst the common people, and yet you fit in quite well. This rich adornment came with tight-fitting gowns, gorgeous lace pieces, corsets of the highest quality. Those also didn't go unnoticed, but this night in particular some people crossed the line.

You and Astarion brought your own bottle of wine to start the evening, something to get you loose enough to put up with whatever was on tap. Occasionally you'd befriend some strangers, just for the evening. Astarion had a bad habit of making jokes about his vampirism, so you often avoided speaking to the same people again in case they'd look past his sarcasm.

This night in particular you'd come across quite the fun group, and you'd kindly shared some of your wine with them, which was a most rare occurrence. Soon enough you ran out, and Astarion offered to grab something else for the table.

"I'll be right back darling."

He has a habit of disappearing in most circles, but he's always nearby when it comes to you, especially in a place like this. Of course he's protective of you, all you truly have is each other. He'll walk to the bar and purchase a new bottle, keeping eyes, or at least ears on you the entire time he's away. Perks of loving an elf, as his heightened senses have come in handy multiple times.

"Well, that man of yours certainly is something."

A human man comments from across the table, taking a sip of your fancy wine.

"I know."

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink.

"I can't imagine he's all that in the bedroom though."

You almost spit out your wine, surprised by the audacity of this complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Just someone who thinks you could do better."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, I could bed you for a change."

You almost want to throw up at how bold this man is being. Instead of dragging the conversation on any further, you grab your drink and go to stand up, trying to eye Astarion from across the room. The tavern was awfully busy, far more than usual. After realizing he was nowhere in sight, you move to make your way to the bar. Suddenly, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you back.

"Well that's no way to treat a nice young man, now is it?"

This human snarls in your ear. No one seems to notice the situation, as the crowd is bustling. It's not often you get scared of random tavern goers, but this man is far more handsy than others.

"Unhand me."

You go to grab for the knife hidden under the slit of your dress, realizing you forgot to grab it on the way out. Of course, tonight of all nights. Realizing you were trying to grab for a weapon, the human twists your wrist behind your back, making you yelp in pain.

Astarion had a hard time hearing that night because of all the overlapping conversation, but that sound was all he needed for his ears to perk up and for him to abandon his drink mission. He has a keen sense for knowing when you're in danger.

"Adorable, you think you're that strong huh?"

He goes to feel where you reached for your knife, lingering on your leg a little too long. Then, he freezes.

"Excuse me sir, could you show me where your pulse is in your neck? Make sure your blood's still pumping?"

Astarion has his dagger in hand behind your attacker. The human starts shaking, and slowly creeps his hand off of your leg and onto his neck.

"Very good. Now, if you'd like to keep that precious sustenance pumping through your veins and don't want me to pop your jaw out of it's socket, you'll unhand my wife."

He points the tip of his dagger right where the neck meets the jawline, almost drawing blood. Soon after the human unhands your hair, and scrambles away, not before Astarion leaves the tiniest knick in his neck: a reminder. You turn around and embrace the vampire, finally catching your breath. He lets you stay wrapped around his side as he guides you out of the tavern.

"Are you alright my love? Did he hurt you?"

"Just my scalp a little. I forgot my knife before we left, stupid mistake."

He lifts your chin up to make eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't have to be armed so some man won't harass you. Would I prefer you to have a weapon on you? Of course, but if you ever can't protect yourself, I will."

You start to tear up a little. It's been a while since you've been that scared, and no one seemed to notice. What would've happened if Astarion was too late?

"Look at me."

He wakes you from your thoughts.

"Let's go home. Perhaps this isn't the right place for us."

You wrap your arm around his, holding onto his sleeve. Darkvision is nice at times like this, since he can see much further than you. The walk home is quiet, and he doesn't mind. However, he is constantly eyeing nearby alleyways in case that man decides to get smart with him. When you get home you ball up on the sofa, and he makes sure the door is double-locked, something he doesn't often do considering he made the locks himself. He makes his way to the sofa, the plush velvet making a nice contrast to rickety wooden chairs of the tavern.

"Come here darling."

He pulls you back to lay on him, and he unclasps your necklace, placing it gently on the nearby table.

"Astarion?"

You look up at him.

"Yes my love?"

Tears prick at your eyes again. You have a hard time getting the words out, as if it's an embarrassing question.

"Will... will you always keep me safe?"

Your voice wavers. He starts massaging your shoulders.

"Of course my sweet Tav, I'll keep you safe as long as you live."

His voice lowered, a certain serious tone taking hold. Part of him felt guilty things even went as far as they did tonight, but he promised himself he'd never let it happen again.

"I love you."

He smiles. It's not often you just say 'I love you' to one another, it's usually said in many different ways, in actions, in pet names. You save it for serious moments, when it feels important to remind each other of your love, how it binds you.

"I love you too darling."

Nothing else is said. Soon enough you fall asleep as he rubs your back, peaceful and safe.

[damiansgoodgirll]

hello, can you write about damian priest x reader where she just got into the main roster on RAW and she felt left out in the women's lockerroom (except becky and liv) and a impossible crush with the archer of infamy but he is the one who ask her out

love this request!

‼️a little angst and rhea’s a little mean, sorry

damian priest x reader

my birdie

you were a shy person.

always been. but when it came to wrestling, you were an animal, everyone knew about your abilities and they loved you for it. that’s why you went from nxt to smackdown and from smackdown to raw in less than two years.

people wanted to see you doing big things and big things came when hunter placed you in a completely different roaster.

you made some friends in nxt, you’ve been there the most so your colleagues got to know you better. it’s not that you were rude, you didn’t like being on your own either but you were shy.

some of your colleagues got to know this side of you and tried to involve you in more activities together, others didn’t care as they all wanted to focus on themselves.

when you spent a few months on smackdown, everyone apart from bayley ignored you. she immediately understood what you were feeling. fear of being alone and starting in a roaster where you didn’t know anybody and the fact that you weren’t talkative at all was making it 100% harder.

you were grateful for bayley and for her patience with you, that’s why you cried to her when you were being shifted on raw.

you wanted to be on raw, you were just scared of how you were going to be treated. it wasn’t easy on smackdown but at least you made a friend.

the first two weeks were hard. bayley was constantly checking on you, making sure you were okay and doing good. she even said to the other girls that you were shy and needed a little time to open up but it felt like they didn’t care.

liv and becky were the only two people who never made you feel unwanted. they took times to introduce you to the rest of the raw squad.

basically, everyone was ignoring you.

shayna tried to get to know you, and in fact she liked your shy and calm persona but she was too focused on her goals to have time to get to know you better. still, you appreciated her efforts. she still spent time eating lunch with you and you were really grateful for that.

but, apart from the three girls, it was clear that you were unwanted. other girls saw you as a threat.

especially rhea. you would describe the meeting with the judgment day “the most scary day of your life”. liv introduced you to them and you felt like an animal in a cage when you felt all of their eyes on you.

dom and finn didn’t really care about you. rhea ignored you but kept watching you. damian, well, damian had the audacity to make some stupid jokes about your shy persona.

“what is a scared birdie like you doing in a place like this?” he joked making everyone but liv laugh “cat really got your tongue birdie? be safe out there, you’re a little bird in a room full of cats ready to eat you alive”

“and the one right here” dom said pointing at rhea “is the scariest cat you’ll ever meet” and with that they all left.

you remember crying that night.

you also knew that becky and liv had a conversation with them because they stopped poking at you. they just watched you from afar. especially damian. who you got a little crush on but could never tell him. you couldn’t really understand why he was constantly watching you. when you were training. when you were on live television. when you were basically doing nothing. he was watching you and his beautiful but firm eyes made you a little scared.

“what is she doing here?” you heard rhea saying to finn, one time you were all training together. she didn’t know you were listening but you were. and her words hurt you “she looks like a lost princess from disneyland” she said making finn laugh.

you excused yourself from training with becky and seth and they immediately knew something was wrong. they took you under their protective wing, training with you and teaching you new moves.

“jeez rhea, was that necessary?” becky said with an angry look on her face.

“what?” she said like nothing happened.

“why do you all hate her so much? what has she ever done to you?” seth said to finn and the rest of the judgment day.

silence.

they had no reason to hate her “like i thought” seth said.

“she’s in the wrong place” rhea said, not making eye contact with becky.

“wrong place? she kicked your ass last week” becky said laughing “just because she’s shy doesn’t mean she isn’t capable, she’s just as smart and strong as you rhea…she just has more difficulty to open up to people…you guys should help her instead of making fun of her, or at least, if you don’t feel that kind to get to know her, ignore her…for her own sake, stop making fun of her” becky said very annoyed before leaving with seth.

that night you kept thinking about rhea’s words. maybe you really were in the wrong place. maybe you didn’t belong with them. maybe you really should be doing something different. and those thoughts made you cry because wrestling was all you ever wanted to do in your entire life.

but before you could overthink again, a soft knock on your hotel room awaked you from your wandering mind.

you weren’t definitely expecting to see damian priest in front of you.

“hey…” he smiled at you.

“you should at least wait until tomorrow to make fun of me” you said, looking at the ground “again…”

damian felt guilty.

he saw how you quickly wiped your tears away. he also knew he fucked up.

he felt guilty because in reality he was in love with you. you caught his attention the moment liv introduced you to them. he was watching every move you made, making sure you were being safe but he didn’t want to let you know what he was feeling.

“i’m here to apologise…”

“sure” you still weren’t looking at him.

“i’m serious y/n…i’m so sorry for how i made you feel, for how me and my team made you feel…” he began apologising and you let him in the room before you could catch other’s attention “we thought it was funny at first but…we clearly weren’t thinking and for that i’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to hurt you” he said truthfully but still you weren’t looking at him.

his eyes had a different effect on you.

“can you please look at me?” he said moving closer to your body “are you scared of me birdie?”

“i’m not scared…” you said raising your eyes.

now you were both looking into each other’s eyes.

“i’m sorry…really, so so sorry for hurting you…” he apologised again.

“it’s okay damian…thank you for your apology, uhm…it’s okay now i guess” you shyly smiled at him.

“and if you’re okay…i would like to get to know you a little bit more…only if you’re okay with that” he said a little awkwardly.

“yes…it’s okay for me”

“perfect” he smiled “what about tomorrow? i’ll take you somewhere nice for lunch, if you’re free of course” he rambled.

“i’m free” you smiled, seeing how funny he was being.

“then i’ll see you tomorrow birdie” he smirked before leaving your room.

“would you ever stop calling me that?” you asked him.

“i don’t think so” he smiled at you closing your hotel door.

you looked at the door for about ten minutes before moving into your bed, smiling like a teen who just got asked out.

now, all you had to do was to get a nice sleep and waiting for tomorrow to come.

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.  

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

[thesoftestpunk]

Will you be mine?

Summary: your crush is starting to become something more

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: This took for-fucking-ever, I'm sorry. I had a 5 month writers block

Warnings: Minors DNI!! If I find out you read this, I'm calling your mom. Lots of making out, dumb sex jokes, first time, smut, oral, piv sex, virgin!Eddie idk if I missed something lemme know. Also reader can honestly be read as plus size. I try to be inclusive.

Pt.1

When Eddie truly saw you for the first time, you were actually giving Dustin directions to the theater department, already late to swim practice, but you nodded along to his excited ramblings about joining Hellfire. You wished all three freshmen good luck and when you passed by Eddie, you smiled. Not even a half-assed, polite smile, but a full one. It’s so out of the ordinary for him that he just gawkes at you with wide eyes until your smile falters a fraction, and you move on. 

It’s been two years since you’ve moved into town, so he’s seen you around school before, but it’s the closest your worlds came to colliding, and in response to that, you smiled. Most people turned their noses up at the sight of him but the harder he thought about it, you never did. Not in two whole years. Even when his hair went through a terrible awkward phase. 

It set his curiosity in motion, unintentionally looking for you any chance he got. It was easiest in class, stuck in the back by choice, but that meant no one was looking at him looking at you. You sat with your friends any chance you got, devoted yourself to them, but anytime they made a snide comment, he saw you withdraw just the slightest bit, eyes drifting and frown deepening. Eddie never liked it when you frowned. In fact, anytime he could tell you were having a bad day, eyes burning with tears, he’d act like a fool in class. At first, you remained nonchalant, eyes drifting like they did with your friends, but the first time he got you to laugh, his heart felt too big for his chest. 

“Again?” Gareth teased when he caught Eddie drooling over you instead of the worksheet in front of him that only displayed the addition of his crooked name and nothing else. 

“I think I like her, man.” Eddie tries to keep his voice low. If anyone caught wind that he liked someone so high on the social ladder, he’d be eaten alive. The teasing over his hobbies he could take, but getting his heart caught on his sleeve and then stomped on made him nervous. 

“You should just ask her out.” Gareth says it so nonchalantly that Eddie can’t help but scoff.

“She’s friends with Christina Whitlock, wannabe cheerleader. She’s worse than Carver and his goons. I’m not going to put myself on the chopping block willingly.” 

“It’s either you ask her out or suffer in silence.” 

Eddie looks at you sitting in the front of the classroom, smiling at something you’ve been told, and his heart sinks a little. 

Then everything shifted after you sat next to him in English that day your friends seemed to be making fun of him about something. At first he thought you did it because you felt guilty, but when you seemed genuinely curious about his tattoos, he let his guard down. Which seemed to backfire pretty quickly. He had to endure hearing you say you didn’t like him, not once, but twice.

When he had lost all hope, you invited him to the pool. He almost didn't go, fully expecting you to turn him down politely, explaining that you were only being nice out of obligation, but none of that happened. When you had expressed your shared feelings for Eddie, he felt unadulterated joy. That was until he kissed you, and it seeped out of his skin, unable to be contained any further. Now, he got to walk hand in hand with you down the halls of the school, giving each other knowing looks when Tina stared the two of you down like she couldn’t believe you would have the audacity to hold hands. 

You always initiated the pda, and he shook off the nerves just to feel the soft skin of your palm against his. He kissed you in private, not wanting any chance of a moment ruined. But you can’t seem to get any privacy for anything more than making out. You’ve come close to the idea of more but that’s all it seems to be. An idea. It’s a lot of getting interrupted in your bed, Eddie’s hand just having slid underneath your underwear and one of you freezing at the sound of the front door. You always proceed to hiss out ‘shit. Someone’s home,’ before the two of you scramble to get decent and when, nine times out of ten, your mother checks on you, you pretend to be studying. 

Despite his -albeit joking- begging, you refuse the idea to do it in his van.

“I’m a bit of a romantic,” you argue. “So I don’t want our first time to be in the back of your smelly van.”

“Okay, it won’t be there.” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “It’ll be up front.”

You shove him off of you as he laughs maniacally, now beside you on your bed. Taking your childhood stuffed rabbit, you whack him in the shoulder playfully, and he catches it quickly. 

“How dare you use miss hoppity as a weapon!” He teases further. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, Munson.” 

He screams dramatically when you roll over on him and attack his neck in rapid kisses, making him uncontrollably giggle. He had warned you he was ticklish in some parts, and you quickly learned where for your own personal enjoyment. 

“Uncle! Uncle!” He gasps out between bouts of laughter, even though he loved the feeling of your plush lips against his neck. His beautiful neck that left your mouth watering and legs clenching at the sheer thickness of it. Just more space to place kisses. There’s a moment when he’s calming and you’ve placed both hands on his stomach, neither worrying about your mother coming to check up on the commotion you just caused. You feel him harden underneath you, just like every time you get pulled onto his lap. He can’t help it. The way your legs spread just for him, and how your shoulders relax with ease gets him going. 

“What?” You whisper when he just continues to stare like you’ve told him he’s won the lottery. 

“I haven’t taken you on a proper date, have I?” As he asks, his smile turns downward at the sudden realization. 

“No, but I don’t mind.” You trace a finger from the back of his jaw to his chin and give a little pinch. “I like this time together. Just us.”

“Well, I’d be a terrible–” the words get caught in his throat as he almost says the big word. Boyfriend. Neither of you had broached the subject, and maybe that’s why he’s brought up the fact that he hasn’t taken you out. Whatever this relationship was, he was afraid he was going about everything in the wrong way. He should have taken you out before even kissing you, if any romantic driven book he’s read has told him. “-guy if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” you ignore his fumble, bumping your nose into his. “Take me out then.” You flatten your chest to him to feel the rumble of his victorious laughter, but then you remember where you are, and your bedroom door is open fully. “We need to get up before the guard does her rounds.”

You untangle yourself from him, giggling as he has to adjust himself if your mom actually does make an appearance. 

“This Friday, sweetheart. I’m picking you up at seven o’clock, sharp.”

“I look forward to it.”

***

Eddie says he would still rather not be seen at any school event, but he shows up to your swim practice, fulfilling his promise of being in the closest spot on the bleachers as he’s allowed. He drives you home from every practice, bragging about you to you. It’s selfishly endearing listening to the way he talks about how proud he is of you for how talented you are. The rest of the girls on the team didn’t understand his insistence on catching at least the last ten minutes. Usually he would be meeting with hellfire, but he would try and make it just to cheer you on, even if he was explicitly told not to by your coach. 

“He was here again today.” you hear Christina whisper to one of the girls. “I’m starting to think it’s not just for Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” She asks innocently.

“I mean… it’s kinda pervy, right?” 

“Ugh, totally.” Another agrees. 

A chill runs down your spine at the idea of that rumor spreading. Something in you snaps as you slam your locker door shut before turning to see their shocked faces. 

“Eddie is a gentleman,” you glare at Tina. “I don’t care that you all think I’m a freak too, now that I’m dating him, but you need to remember I’m co-captain. Keep his name out of your mouth, and if I hear any sort of disrespect about him, you’re doing drills until you puke.” 

“You’re only co-captain because you’re the coach's niece.” Christina crosses her arms defensively. 

“The only reason I’m not captain is because of nepotism. He didn’t want you whining all the time, but I work my ass off harder than anyone in this room. You could stand to be a little more humble, Tina, considering how slow you were today.” Your hands shake as everyone looks back and forth between you and Christina like they’re at a tennis match, just waiting for a full on cat fight to break out. “So, do you understand me?”

The locker room is silent as you stare down Christina, challenging her to retort back, but she actually looks flustered and nods. It has the others nodding along in a chorus of agreement. There’s no more chit chat as the girls rush to finish getting dressed. You’re one of the first few to leave, leftover anger and adrenaline making you stomp on your way out. That is until you see Eddie and feel your whole body relax. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says his usual greeting. 

Sudden tears burn your eyes as you rush forward to tackle him in a hug, causing him to stumble backwards a couple of steps. He chuckles, arm coming around your middle as he assumes you’re just that excited to see him. A sniffle gives you away immediately. 

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling away to look at you. His eyebrows draw together in concern as he looks you over, hands on either side of your face to inspect closely. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yes, I just-“ you wipe your nose with your sleeve, feeling yourself get small. It’s the first time he’s seen you cry, and you don’t want to make him worry about why. “It’s stupid. Can you just take me home?”

“You can tell me.” His thumb moves back and forth over your cheek. 

“Eds,” you let out a wet laugh. “I’m fine.” To prove this, you give him a kiss. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Alright,” he eyes you warily, and even the door to the locker room, but wraps an arm around your shoulder to walk out with you. 

You’re sour for the rest of the week, not even indulging in teasing Tina about your relationship publicly. Eddie knows you’re in a mood, but he has no idea why. He tries everything he can think of; jokes, the little kisses on your collar bones that make you smile, and more jokes, but you just seem lost in your own world. For a moment, he worries you’re tired of him already and the pressure of being seen with him has become too overwhelming, and for his own sanity, he does some digging. 

It takes bribing four different people. One offer to deal at a party sends him to  Andrew Rickman,  who gets some weed for a huge discount, to send Eddie to his girlfriend, Jessica Armstrong who finally sends him to Janice Freedman and a promise to pass along her phone number to Gareth, and he’s sure he’s figured it out. 

On Friday’s you swim on your own. Eddie knows to leave you be for an hour before entering the pool house to catch you just as you’re towel drying your hair. He doesn’t like wandering the halls to risk getting yelled at, so he waits in his van, blasting music while smoking a joint. 

“Have a good swim?” His arms wrap around your waist from behind, the smell of chlorine invading his nose. 

“Mmhm,” you hum, melting into his hold. You had pushed yourself to relieve the frustration because you didn’t want to ruin Eddie’s date plan. 

“Just ‘mmhm?’” He copied your tone, slowly placing kisses along your shoulder, and up toward your neck. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here.” You remind him, voice stern, but he knows there isn’t any anger behind it. 

“Got away with it last time didn’t I?” He spins you around by your hips, making you wonder what’s suddenly gotten him in this mood. Eddie captures your lips, pulling your body flush against his, and tips your head back to deepen the kiss. It leaves you breathless immediately with how desperate it feels. 

“Eddie,” you sigh when he breaks it to move to your neck once more. His ring covered hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and giving a squeeze. It’s a shame he didn’t show up sooner or he could’ve done this when you were wearing nothing but a towel. “Seriously? Here?” 

“No,” he snorts, trying to behave. “I’m a gentleman.” 

“Not with that poking me in the thigh.” 

Before he gets the chance to laugh, someone is clearing their throat, making the two of you jump apart. Tina looks to the side, looking more than embarrassed by the obvious bulge in Eddie’s pants, and your kiss stained lips. 

“T-Tina,” you step in front of Eddie for his sake. “What, uh, what are you doing here?” 

“I signed up for extra practice time.” For the first time, Tina seems small, almost afraid to admit she needed the extra time in the water. “Guys aren’t allowed in the girls locker room, Munson.” 

“I’ll wait outside.” Stiffly, he leans forward to give you a quick kiss on the cheek from behind before rushing out. 

“Sorry,” you apologize before she can berate you for it. “I thought we were alone.”

And strange enough, she doesn’t. 

“I used to sign up for the latest slot so Declan and I could be alone when we first started dating.” She opens up her locker in search of her suit. “Just don’t go making a habit of it. Coach nearly tore my head off. Can’t imagine what he’d do to his niece.” 

“Right,” you laugh sheepishly, but catch a glimpse of the Tina you became friends with two years ago. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me yet.” She hardens once again. “You’re doing drills for getting caught.”

You sigh. Tough Tina was back. 

“Aye aye captain.” 

After you rush out, tail between your legs, you smack Eddie in the shoulder with the sleeve of your hoodie. He flinched back like it hurt, but the smile completely gave him away. 

“You dingus!” You try to keep your voice down, but the shrill tone still echoes around the building. 

“Ow!” He laughs more than he does whine. “I can’t appreciate you for sticking up for me?”

“What?” You stop winding up for another smack. 

“I heard what you did for me.” He wraps an arm around your back, pulling you close so he has to speak quietly. “No one’s ever stuck for me like that before.” 

“Well, I- I was just being honest…” your cheeks burn at the way he looks down at you, one corner of his lips tugging up. 

“Mm, well, I find your honesty extremely hot.” 

“We can not get caught by Tina again.” As much as you wanted to reciprocate his appreciation, you weren’t looking forward to extra punishment for making her endure another shared kiss between you and eddie. “You need to take me home so I can get ready for our date.”

“What’re you gonna wear?” 

“Only if you tell me where we’re going but it’s—“

“A surprise,” he finishes for you.

***

Eddie shows up at your door on time for once. He isn’t allowed to pick you up for school, or else you’d be chronically late for first period. He had told you to dress casual, but you can’t help but grab your short tan pleated skirt to match your white shirt with extended shoulders and a jean fabric vest. (A jest if you will). To top it all off, you wear your favorite beat up sneakers and ankle socks scrunched down. When you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat and you take down the hall, shouting at your parents that you’ll get the door. Your dad beats you to it on purpose, but he’s already met Eddie. They were uncertain at first, but Eddie was polite and followed your house rules. To an extent. It was all a front, and you knew it killed him just a little, but he also knew if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to date you. 

He takes you to a local restaurant, nothing fancy, but also not cheap. you love it either way. It never really mattered what the two of you did together, as long as you were doing it together. He’s a bit quiet as you eat, eyes scanning the room, but after you get him to loosen up, he acts like he owns the place. He leans back in his seat, arm thrown over the back as he heavily flirts with you, not even wondering if the other patrons are staring or not.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles while fumbling with the crumbled bills when he pays. You know he doesn’t have a traditional job, selling drugs to help his uncle with expenses, and it makes you wonder how much extra he had to sell just to take you here. There’s a pause as he calculates if there’s enough for a tip before slapping the money down and smiling at you to wave off your worry. 

“Eddie?” You gently take his hand after he’s pulled out of the parking lot. “Did you- you know you didn’t have to take me somewhere that nice, right? I would’ve been fine if you made me, like, chef boyardee at your trailer.”

“I gotta make my girl feel special sometimes, right?” He flashes you that confident smile and brings your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles. There’s a tug in your stomach when he calls you ‘my girl’ and you bite your bottom lip to stave off your sheepish grin. “Plus, the night’s not over yet. I got one more thing for you.”

You aren’t sure what to expect, but when he pulls up in front of his trailer, you feel a bit of a relief. Not because you don’t like being out in public with Eddie, you do, but you constantly worry about someone making a rude comment his way and upsetting him. In the time you’ve known him, though, the insults seem to roll off his back pretty easily, and you’re unsure how he does it. Every insult repeats in your mind for hours after. 

“Give me five minutes.” Eddie leans over to give you a quick kiss on the lips. 

“What, gotta hide all your cum socks before I go in?”

“I’ve got some class.” Eddie’s breath tickles your lips as he doesn’t lean back just yet. “I washed them yesterday.” 

As he gets out of the van, you laugh to yourself, even when he’s unlocking the door and disappearing inside. You stay inside the vehicle, only unbuckling your seatbelt and glance outside the window. The openness of the area combined with how dark it is leaves you a little unsettled. It’s eerily quiet, and you can tell even with the windows rolled up. A lone cricket and distant barking seems to be the only noise going on around. Turning by your torso, you see there isn’t much to the back of his van, bits of carpet pulling up here and there along the seams, a guitar case covered in stickers similar to what’s on his jackets, and ashtrays with cigarette butts and half smoked joints. There’s a rug thrown in the middle, probably to cover a stain or his attempt to class things up. A sharp knock startled you out of observing the burnt orange and red curves and sharp corners. 

“You okay there?” Eddie teases after opening the passenger door for you. 

“It’s scary as shit out here.” You take his outstretched hand and hop out of the van. “It’s way too quiet.”

“Let me lead you to safety, princess.”

Inside, the trailer is lit by the dim lamp in the corner of the living area, but mostly by the scattered candles along random surfaces leading toward his bedroom. The low lighting flickers off the reflection in the mugs lined along the shelves, and shadows dancing along the walls. Eddie leads you down the short hallway before you can even comment on his romantic decor. You’ve gotten a peek of his bedroom in past visits, but the two of you usually would hang out on the couch, so you know he’s tidied it up for you. There’s still plenty of clutter along his dresser and desk, but his floor is clean from any clothes or trash strewn about. 

He stops you at the end of his bed, your calves brushing against the sheets hanging over the side. Slowly, he brings up your hand to place a kiss on the back of your palm, causing you to shudder. A smile grows on his face and you can see it despite your hand being in the way. He lets go to drag the vest off of your shoulders and when it registers in your mind that he wants it off, you move with him, his face getting close to yours when he has to help your fumbling hands through the holes. You’ve been kissed by him a dozen times but when he dips his chin up to connect your lips, your skin burns in a want you’ve never felt before, as if he’s kissing you for the first time. You both move in sync, dipping down onto the bed, and not breaking contact until he’s hovering over you, delight making his features glow, but you can see the small bit of insecurity in his eyes while he seems to gather up his nerves. 

“Will you be mine?” It’s quiet, intimate, barely above a whisper, but leaves his voice graveling deep enough to send a jolt up your spine. “My girl? Each second with you…” he trails off, shaking his head as his lips split into a grin. “It’s a piece of gold, sweetheart. I want you to be mine.” 

“I-“ you huff out a laugh, his bangs moving with the small gust of air. “I thought I already was. Have been since you kissed me.” 

If his grin could get any bigger, it just did, and his body relaxes, his weight heavier on top of you. The next kiss he gives you is all teeth and tongue, before he calms and kisses you proper. Kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, his lips and the gentle swipe of his tongue erasing all the others that came before. Your giggle is muffled into his mouth, trying to pull him closer than he already was, but there wasn’t any room left. If you could find it within yourself to let go of his shirt, he could be pressed firmly against you, but then you would just want his shirt off, skin to skin, only for that to still not be enough. 

A small moan from you escapes into his mouth when he grinds his hips down into yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he does so. His large hands slide up your hips, your shirt coming up with them, and up your ribs until he’s exposed your chest. You hadn’t even bothered with a bra, not entirely expecting the night to go this far. His eyes widen at the surprise, and his cheeks go pink like he’s never had the pleasure of being inches from any pair of tits. Especially a pair like yours, beautiful and on display just for him. His mouth wraps around your right nipple, his teeth sinking into the perked up flesh, and a pained squeak falls past your lips, the sharp sting only working you up more. As an apology, he releases your nipple to swipe his tongue over it in circles, while his other hand cups your other breast, giving it a perfect squeeze. His lips move down, alternating between kisses and biting the soft flesh of your stomach until he’s positioned between your thighs. Looking up, as if asking permission, to which you nod vigorously in agreement, his hands wrap around your legs to rest them on the top of your thighs, fingers digging into the meat as he kisses the inside of your thighs. You can’t help but squirm when he pushes up the fabric of your skirt with his left hand, the one with all the chunky rings, and leaves it there to rest and places one single kiss on your clothed pussy. 

A broken whimper from you gets him into motion, removing his hand from the thigh for a brief moment, moving your panties to the side and licking up you slowly. Eager, he burrows down, his tongue swirling around your clit, nose pressed against your pubic bone, not minding the scratch of the coarse hair. In desperation to hold onto something to steady your uncontrollable squirming and maybe to just find a grip of reality while your mind floats into a high, your hand falls on his that kneads the flesh of your stomach. The lumpy metal digs into your palm, the pain bringing you further back to reality. His mouth, his hands, his heat leaves you for a moment, looking up to the panting mess that you are, and you whine at the lack of touch. One by one, Eddie removes the large jewelry while maintaining eye contact and tosses them to the side before slowly laying back down on his stomach. Slowly his eyes land on your drenched pussy, and you’d feel uncomfortable if it weren’t for the hunger in his eyes. 

“Wait,” you breathe out. Removing the spare scrunchie from your wrist, you sit up to gather all of his hair quickly, apologizing when your fingers get tangled in the curls, and put it all into a messy bun. You don’t even get to soak up the image of his hair being held by something of yours before he’s gently laying you back down, and his mouth returns to his previous work.

His heavy hands hold your already trembling thighs apart. A hesitant finger hovers near your wet entrance, sliding in slowly. You sigh in relief until he experimentally strokes your core, breath caught in your throat and back arching slightly off the bed. Pleading words, begging breaths, you want for more of his hefty fingers inside you, stretching you out for what you expect to be more later. He complies easy, tongue and fingers moving in sync faster, enjoying every moan that falls past your lips. His name is whined out on repeat, each one raising in tone and intensity along with the pressure in your stomach. He laps up the mess you make as you clench around his fingers and fall over the edge for the first, but not final, time of the night. Soft kisses with the intention of being soothing are scattered along your thighs and stomach as his soaked fingers rub your overstimulated clit, letting you catch your breath as you ride the high just a moment longer.

“Fuck,” you huff, a dazed smile following. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Eddie moves so he’s hovering over you, chin glistening with his work. “Fantasy novels.”

“No, seriously.” With your thumb, you wipe the wetness off of his chin for him. There’s a beat of silence and you realize he isn’t joking. “Wait, seriously?”

“Well… yeah.” 

You sit both of you up, scooting up his mattress until your back touches the wall. There’s the pull of rejection in his chest the further you move away, the absence of your touch and the distance between the two of you sends a message that you don’t want to go further anymore. 

“But you-” you pause, adjusting your shirt so it isn’t exposing your chest. “You… you’re you.”

“That’s the problem, apparently.” The defeat in his voice makes you wince in regret. 

“No, I mean… you’re in a metal band and-” you almost don’t say it. “And I’ve heard… y’know.”

“That I’ll give a discount for putting out?” Amusement flickers in his eyes at that particular rumor. “Okay, I let one girl give me a handy, but that’s it. I’m a massive virgin otherwise.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small, going quiet so you can process what he’s told you. “Well, if you aren’t comfortable we don’t have to.”

“I set up the place for that purpose.” your stomach twists at the image of him excitedly getting ready, lighting the candles to set the mood all with the cute little smile he gets. “Unless you…”

“I’m not.” You almost feel bad for admitting it, but you didn’t regret losing your virginity to someone else. He didn’t seem jealous, just understanding. “And I wouldn’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grows. “Good ‘cause I bought an entire box of condoms.” Leaning over, he pulls out the comically large box from his bedside table. 

“Were you expecting a sex marathon?” You gawk. 

“That’d be ideal.” 

You shut him up by swiftly removing your shirt and tossing it in his face. He’s quick to pull it off and toss it to the side, but you’re quicker in moving forward, hands falling on his shoulders and pushing him down so he’s on his back. If his hair were loose, you’d be distracted by the halo it created around his bed, but it isn’t. Instead it’s already fighting the scrunchie, his bangs falling down in sparse strands, making him look more innocent than he ever has. Crawling into his lap, you take care in placing yourself directly on his growing hard-on. His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, gripping tightly while you run yours up the entirety of his torso. A couple tugs on the fabric is your way of asking him to sit up enough so you can take it off. Immediately, your eyes land on the one tattoo you haven't had the pleasure of looking at for longer than a few seconds, and slowly you take in the small patch of hair in the middle of his chest. What gets your mouth watering is the thicker patch leading down underneath his jeans. On his back, you can see the peaks of his hip bones leading down to the short valley to his happy trail.

You drag your nails over the thicker patch of hair, smiling to yourself at his sharp intake of air, the upward tilt of his chin from your peripheral, working him up to squirm just as much as you had. He’s a whimpering mess while you only touch him anywhere besides the one place he wants. Desperate, he moves your hips for you, begging for any amount of friction. Almost defiantly, you scoot back, sitting on his thighs instead, and he huffs indignantly. You smirk, bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling fully at his pouting.

“Please,” he begs breathless, hips jutting into the air despite no available pressure from your weight. 

Giving in, you unbutton his jeans, finding the way they pop open satisfying, and tug slowly on his zipper. You can perfectly see the outline of his dick through his tight boxer briefs. You want to take your time, slowly pull his jeans off first and then his underwear, but that flies out of the window when you see just how girthy he is. You don’t undress him in any manner, running the palm of your hand up his length, a long moan filling the room. Leaning down, you kiss his stomach, his muscles jolting in surprise. You slip your hand past the waistband, fingertips brushing against the tip, already dripping at your light touch. Experimentally, you give a light squeeze when you’ve wrapped your hand fully around him. Using his pre-cum as aid, you start slow, his moans coming from deep in his chest. Slowly, you start increasing your speed, dropping kisses along his skin when he seems to get too quiet. 

“Baby, you gotta stop,” Eddie pants. You pull away completely, confusion and hurt covering your features. “No, no,” he takes your face between his hands. “I’m just gonna explode if you keep touching me like that, and I’m not quite finished with you yet.” 

You pause, blink once as heated shock covers your body over the realization. You almost made him cum too fast. Pride fills your chest, and you aren’t sure if it’s a bad feeling to have, but he returns your sheepish smile by grabbing a condom from the box. With fascination, you watch him as he rolls it on, not having had the luxury of witnessing this part. It was too dark or too quick before. There’s a bit of a struggle and you reach out to help but stop yourself, not wanting to take over. 

“Got it,” he smiles. 

“And you’re sure you want to…?” You aren’t afraid, but this is new to him. You don’t want him to be afraid. Everything should be perfect, though you know nothing ever is. 

“Do you?”

“Of course, Ed’s.” Running a hand down his chest to his stomach, to land on his strained cock, you give a reassuring smile. Before you climb back in his lap, he helps you out of your underwear, watching the way you smoothly throw a leg over him and line yourself up expertly without even looking. Raising your brows to wordlessly ask one more time, he answers by resting his hands on your hips, eyes never leaving yours. As you sink slowly down, there’s the familiar burning stretch that causes you to whimper, even more by his girth, but it’s all covered up by his moans. You bottom out, wiggling experimentally while he adjusts to the feeling.

And then you start moving your hips.

Slow at first, grinding your pussy into him, his head falling back onto the mattress and eyes squeezing shut. If he had any nails, they’d be digging into your skin, leaving crescents behind to remind you of this moment later, but his fingers are dull, pushing and pulling you into a perfect rhythm. Leaning down, you press kisses and soft bites onto his neck, your tits flat against his chest and moving with every desperate thrust he gives into you. You support yourself by your forearms, stopping your movements and letting him fuck himself into you. He’s a beautiful flustered mess when you look at him. He opens his eyes just a sliver to catch your smile. 

“Feel good?” You ask, voice soft.

“Mm-hm.” He can’t even speak, brows furrowed together roughly. “‘M gonna—“

“Go ahead.” You place a kiss on his pulse point, swallowing your moans as he thrusts harder, hitting your g-spot. His arms wrap around your waist holding you still, his hips becoming more erratic. “C’mon baby,” you coo. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, giving a few good thrusts before his hips stutter. You give him a moment to catch his breath, the only sound in the room being his panting. 

Leaning back, you smother his face in kisses, feeling his laughter vibrate underneath your chest. 

“Hey,” you say semi-serious, his soft eyes meeting yours. “You did great.”

“I sure hope so.” He finally slides out of you and you whine in indignation, missing the feeling of him already. 

“You did.” You insist. 

There’s this moment where he almost looks like he believes you and you get this warm mushy feeling in your chest at the realization that you’ve had your first time together. Not in the back of his van but in a lovingly decorated trailer with zero chances of being interrupted. To top it all off, you’re also officially his girlfriend. 

“Sweetheart?” He breaks you out of your revere. “Kinda need you off of me to get this thing off.”

“And then we cuddle.”

He smiles. “And then we cuddle.” 

Rolling onto your back, you realize you’ve still got your skirt on, laughing to yourself as you take it off. You look around and find a shirt, unsure of whose it could be, and slip it on, watching Eddie walk out of the room despite promising to get back in bed. A moment later, he returns with a damp rag, gently spreading your legs and cleaning you up the best he knows how.

“I got it, thank you.” You take it from him gently, getting the spots he couldn’t and hand it back. He immediately tosses it behind his shoulder, hoping it lands in his laundry basket. “Eddie, gross.” 

“No time, my dear.” He crawls in right behind you, pulling his comforter over the both of you so you don’t end up cold. His nose nuzzles into the back of your neck, lips leaving soft kisses on the top of your spine. 

“I can’t sleep over,” you remind him, eyelids already feeling heavy.

“I know.”

“My dad wants me back before midnight.”

“I know.”

A hand snakes over your side, wrapping around your middle to pull you flush into his chest. He breathes you in, the smell of your honey shampoo tingling his senses. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hm?” He sounds sleepy and you know you’re in trouble. 

“We can officially do it in your van, now.”

“Finally,” he teases. 

Tag list: @hesvoid3434 @jane-ways @akiratoro420 @ali-r3n @stupid-infinity (there were a couple of you it wouldn't let me tag, sorry <;3)

[its-avalon-08]

hi okay so since we have very little mark webber content im doing everyone a favour so like similar to the fernando one but this time y/n watched mark's flying 2010 crash and even though he's completely fine y/n is MAD (like it happened for the second time). Mark tries joking it off after they get home but she gives him the silent treatment+ doesnt let him kiss/touch her. then when she finally gives in she's angry and cries while mark consoles her?

please don't leave (mw6)

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i had so much fun writing this one thank you so much for this request ! i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

y/n practically clawed at the armrest as the grainy helicopter footage on the tv flickered. it couldn't be. not again. the unmistakable red of mark's car was wedged against a barrier, smoke billowing skyward. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "mark..." the word escaped her lips in a strangled whisper.

the newscaster droned on, thankfully confirming mark was unharmed. relief flooded y/n, momentarily pushing the anger aside. but as the adrenaline subsided, the fury simmered back. this was the second time she'd endured this terror in the three years they'd been together.

the apartment door creaked open, and mark limped in, a grimace on his face. even with the obvious pain, his smile was sheepish. "hey there, drama queen. looks like i caused a bit of a stir, eh?"

y/n remained glued to the couch, arms crossed. the silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. mark's smile faltered, replaced by a worried frown. he shuffled closer, a hand reaching out tentatively.

"y/n, come on," he coaxed, "it's alright. just a bit shaken, that's all."

his hand hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder. y/n flinched away, the movement sharp and cold. the hurt flickered in mark's eyes, but he persisted.

the air in the apartment hung heavy with unspoken emotions. mark hovered near y/n, his own leg throbbing from the crash, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil brewing across the room. he yearned to hold her, to feel her warmth and offer some form of comfort.

"so," mark started, his voice breaking the suffocating silence, "at least this time i didn't manage to take out any cameramen. silver linings, right?"

he forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. but as he reached out, y/n visibly stiffened. her back straightened, and her arms, which had been limp at her side, clenched into fists.

mark's smile faltered, replaced by a dawning realization. this wasn't the time for jokes. he saw it in the way her shoulders started to tremble, a silent tremor that spoke volumes.

"y/n," he began, concern lacing his voice.

but before he could continue, a dam broke within her. tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she whirled around to face him.

"silver linings?" she choked out, her voice thick with anger and barely contained fear. "mark, how can you even say that? don't you get it? every time you get behind the wheel of that car, my heart stops! i watch those races, glued to the screen, praying that the red and white doesn't end up tangled in a mess of metal, praying that i don't hear your name followed by the words 'critical condition.' this isn't some game, mark! these aren't just crashes, these are near-death experiences!"

her voice hitched, raw emotion pouring out. "and you have the audacity to joke about it? to try and find some humor in the fact that you almost died again? do you even consider what it does to me? the sleepless nights, the constant worry gnawing at my insides? i can't take it anymore, mark! i can't live like this, constantly on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop!"

y/n's rant hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. mark stood speechless, his heart sinking with every word. all the flippant remarks he'd planned evaporated. here, laid bare, was the true cost of his passion, the unseen burden he placed on the woman he loved.

shame washed over him. he hadn't truly understood her fear, the depth of her worry. now, seeing it raw and unfiltered, he felt like a monster.

"y/n," he finally managed, his voice hoarse with regret, "i... i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i was trying to be lighthearted, but you're right. it's not a joke. i was a fool. please, forgive me. i promise it won't happen next time."

"it's not enough, mark!" she shot back, tears welling up in her eyes. "what if next time... what if there isn't a next time?"

the room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. after a long moment, mark sat on the coffee table beside her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. he didn't try to touch her again, respecting the space she needed.

minutes bled into hours. finally, y/n's tense shoulders slumped slightly. with a shaky breath, she turned towards mark. he met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern.

"i just..." she began, her voice thick with emotion, "i can't lose you, mark. not like this."

large tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking. mark was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. he held her as she sobbed, whispering comforting words into her hair.

the fear, the anger, all of it spilled out in that moment. when her cries subsided into hiccups, mark gently wiped away her tears.

y/n's words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to mark's heart. shame burned in his gut, hotter than any engine fire he'd ever faced. he hadn't just been selfish, he'd been blind. blinded by the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the race. he hadn't seen the terror in her eyes, the worry etched into her every expression.

"y/n," he started, his voice thick with remorse, "i... i don't even know where to begin. you're right. it's not a joke. it's never a joke. every time i climb into that car, a part of me knows the risk. but the truth is, i never stopped to think about what it did to you. i was so focused on myself, on the competition, on the win, that i completely ignored the cost it had on you."

he took a shaky breath, pulling her closer, "those sleepless nights, that constant worry… you shouldn't have to carry that burden alone. you shouldn't have to live in fear because of my passion. it's not fair. it's not fair to you, and frankly, it makes me question my own damn priorities."

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. "this racing… it's been my life for so long. it's given me purpose, pushed me to my limits, made me feel alive. but if it comes at the cost of losing you, then what's the point? what good is a trophy if the person i love the most is shattered every time i race?"

he looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "i can't promise you i'll quit. it's in my blood, this need for speed. but i can promise you this: i'll never take it for granted again. i'll never forget the fear in your eyes. every race, every decision, every corner i take, you'll be there, a constant reminder of what truly matters. and if, at any point, you can't handle it anymore, if the fear becomes too much… i'll walk away. no questions asked. because you, y/n, you're my everything."

silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his words. but this time, it wasn't a suffocating quiet. it was a space filled with the dawning of a new understanding, a fragile hope for a future where his passion wouldn't overshadow the love of his life.

the silence stretched on, a hesitant dance between hope and uncertainty. then, slowly, tentatively, y/n reached out. her hand brushed against mark's, sending a jolt of electricity through him. he laced his fingers with hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed.

"i..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "i don't want you to quit." her eyes, though still glistening with unshed tears, held a new resolve. "but i need you to be safe. to understand how much you mean to me."

mark's heart swelled in his chest. "i do, y/n. more than you know." he pulled her gently towards him, offering a quiet, "can i kiss you now?"

y/n melted into his embrace, lips meeting. he held her tightly, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. they would face this together, fear and passion intertwined. but for now, all that mattered was the quiet comfort of each other's arms.

after a long while, y/n pulled back slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "just promise me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"anything," he whispered back, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"no more 'silver linings' jokes after a crash," she declared, a playful glint in her eyes.

mark chuckled, a genuine laugh that warmed the room. "deal. but maybe a celebratory ice cream after a win?"

y/n snorted. "we can negotiate."

and with that, they settled back into their embrace, a newfound understanding blossoming between them. the future was uncertain, the track still held dangers, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything. as mark drifted off to sleep, y/n snuggled closer, her soft breaths a lullaby against his ear.

[lilislegacy]

an analysis: piper calling percy unimpressive

(warning: i wrote this at 1 am)

so basically

remember how we all despised piper mclean when she had the audacity to call our beloved percy “unimpressive” and we all lost our shit on the inside a little bit?

i truly don’t think she meant it in the way we think she did. i think we’re all just defensive of our boy.

piper clearly states that she is comparing percy to jason. first of all, jason is her boyfriend, so of course she’s biased. second of all, hera was manipulating piper to be obsessed with jason. so other guys and girls are automatically unimpressive to her.

and here’s the big thing: piper does not call him unattractive. she does not call him ugly. she simply says he’s not her type. piper is clearly attracted to the “good boy” look. jason is literally your all-american boy. he’s tall with light skin, a sturdy build, neat blonde hair, and blue eyes. part of why annabeth doesn’t trust him is because she is unsettled by his “perfect” appearance. jason is also obedient and well-mannered. he’s your standard good boy.

and the fact of the matter is: percy looks like a “bad boy”. and often, he acts like one too. him and jason are contrasts of each other. a symbolic representation of this: their features. percy has a darker complexion, messy black hair, unique green eyes, and a “sarcastic troublemaker smile.” he’s muscular, but in a leaner and more trim way. he’s tall, but he’s not a towering muscleman by any means. not that jason is either, but don’t forget, percy is a whole one. inch. (GASP) shorter than jason (which to me isn’t even noticeable, so her pointing it out as a flaw just proves that she’s so incredibly biased towards jason.) their other big contrasting feature: their personalities. jason is respectful and well-mannered. very obedient and under control. percy, however, makes jokes during inappropriate moments, talks back to people of power and authority, gets angry quickly, and loses control easily. i mean, literally right after she says this, percy starts insulting the roman god Bacchus and rapidly escalates a situation because of his natural instinct to be disobedient. piper is horrified by him doing this, especially because jason would never. does it make US all love percy very much? yes. but piper isn’t us.

THAT SAID, even she can’t actually call him unattractive. she even went as far to state that she can see why annabeth likes him, which means even her magically-obsessed-with-jason brain can still recognize his attractiveness and see why girls find him appealing. she calls him “cute in a scruffy way,” meaning she thinks that he’s got a disheveled attractiveness to him. she also once said that his pleading eyes are like a cute baby seal’s - even she can’t deny that his eyes are wonderful. so even though piper calls him unimpressive, i think rick put in a lot of clues here showing us that she acknowledges him as a conventionally attractive person, even if she’s not personally attracted to him.

let’s sum it up, shall we?

what does it say about percy? absolutely nothing. piper calling percy unimpressive is an inaccurate and unreliable source when it comes to analyzing percy’s physical appearance, especially if you don’t consider the context. this was rick’s way of showing piper’s clear preference towards jason, just like annabeth has a clear preference towards percy. and even though she said this, rick also made her give us several hints that percy is handsome, just not in a way she’s inclined towards. rick wanted love triangles to be completely out of the question with these 4. he wanted to make it very clear that annabeth had no interest in jason, and that piper had no interest in percy. so since piper is so drawn towards jason, percy had to be very different from him in her eyes.

jason is your a superman, percy is your batman

jason is your captain america, percy is your iron man. some even say spider man.

so put yourself in piper’s shoes: after hearing percy jackson’s name non-stop for 6 months, hearing him compared to jason, hearing of all his accomplishments and how heroic he is - i mean, the guy was literally honored on olympus and offered godhood - she was expecting a stereotypical good-boy hero. a hercules. a superman. your standard muscular blinding-white-teeth-smile hunk. the conventional, well-mannered good boy. and instead she got a wild and untamed, trouble-making bad boy. percy has an edge to him. he’s intimidating and unpredictable. he’s sarcastic and witty. he just looks like he’s up to no good. she wasn’t expecting any of that. that’s not what we’re taught a hero is supposed to be like or look like.

jason is appealing in a “he’d be a respectable and sturdy husband” way.

percy is appealing in a “he’s gonna fuck up my life but i so badly want him to” kind of way. (even though once you get to know him, you see he’s literally the world’s best boyfriend. piper even gets jealous of how loving he is towards annabeth.)

she had this exact idea of what he would be, and he wasn’t that. hence her calling him “unimpressive.” but it says nothing about his attractiveness.

i rest my case, your honor.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

disclaimer: i am not saying percy is actually a bad boy or a bad guy. he is a sweetheart. he has the biggest heart ever. he’s a cute little cinnamon roll. i am simply talking of first impressions from outsiders, and how he appears if you don’t know him.

[lodeddiperactivate]

I hate you more! | Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Author's note: So not sure if people still read Rodrick Heffley fics but I had this idea (and could not find something similar that's already written) where the reader decides to sabotage Rodrick from getting it on with Heather. Reader is at the top of the highschool food chain and is friends with Heather, but hates Rodrick so she sabotages him. A classic enemies to lovers!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You feel like you've been living a double life. You get straight As because, well, your allowance is tied to your grades. But what most people don't know is that you typically sneak out at night to hang with your boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. You smoke, you party, you skip town without your parents ever knowing. But during the day, you looked like someone who goes to church every Sunday. In fact, you're quite impressed at how you're handling this double life. You learned, at a young age, that all there is to life is observing the people around you, and using those observations to your advantage.

Well, you thought to yourself, it's time to test these theories all over again as you move into a new town, new school, new classmates, and new friends. Unfortunately for you, your new neighbor doesn't seem to grasp the idea of a nice and quiet Sunday morning. You decided to pay them a visit, and maybe remind them that their garage isn't soundproof enough for the noise coming out of it.

You walked up to the door and gave 3 loud and firm knocks, waited a couple of seconds until you hear footsteps.

You expect the mom to open the door, which is why you brought cookies as a means to be a good new neighbor but you were greeted by a tall and dark-haired guy with eyeliner. He eyed you up and down in frustration before landing his gaze on the plate of cookies in your hand.

"What do you want?"

You forced yourself to be civil. "I just came here to give you cookies. We just moved in next door when I heard this sound coming from-"

"Yeah yeah, thanks for the cookies!" And with that, he slammed the door in your face. The audacity! You scoffed and started to walk away. The noise had not died down, and you walked away not believing how rude and ill-mannered your new neighbor was. God, if it means hearing this noise every weekend, you might beg your parents to move again.

~

First day of school. You were pretty confident with your social skills so highschool is a cake walk for you. Living a double life means you ought to know how to act in certain situations.

First period. You were introduced to the whole class. Your introduction was amazing. Everybody loved you. You had come into that room, dressed to impressed, and you even cracked a joke that made everyone laugh. Well, everyone except for your neighbor who's in all of your classes by the way. He was too busy talking about his band to basically anyone who's not deaf. What's worst is that you're sitting behind him.

Because of your peak social skills, you were sitting with Heather that day for lunch and apparently, they're at the top of the highschool food chain so that works for you too. You also learned that your neighbor, Rodrick, obviously had a crush on Heather. Since you sit behind him, and Heather sits beside him, you have observed all of the tell-tale signs that he's desperately in love with her. You smirked at the idea, and the endless possibilities of making his life a living hell.

~

School bell rang and everyone hurriedly packed their belongings. Heather asked if you wanted to go to the mall. You agreed and she told you to meet her upfront. Rodrick obviously heard this, and based from his expression, he was surprised that Heather and you are that close already. When everyone had left the room, you called out to Rodrick to set your plans of destroying his life in motion.

"Hey"

"Heyyy," he asked, curious why you were talking to him after he slammed the door in your face. He decided that it would be nice to at least be on your good side since you're friends with Heather so he started with an apology, "Listen, about what happened, I'm sorry but Sunday is the only time I can practice with my band. It's hard work, you know."

You smirked at his half-ass apology but mostly because you can see right through him, but you had a mission, "Oh don't worry about it! Actually, I wanted to tell you that Heather has a message for you."

As soon as you mentioned Heather's name, it was like something inside him had turned on. "Yes?"

"She's too shy to tell you this herself but she kinda has a crush on you. But she can't be too obvious because you know, in dating, guys make the first move, right?"

"Yeah," he said trying to comprehend every word you just uttered.

"Yes, so she doesn't want to go out with someone who did not officially ask her out. You know?"

"Yeah!" He said again as if he had solved a puzzle in his head.

"Okay, so tomorrow at lunch, why don't you "officially" ask her out?"

"Yeah?"

Jesus. You couldn't comprehend how slow this moron is in front of you. You were practically spoon-feeding him. You decided to repeat what you said just to make sure he gets it.

"Tomorrow. At lunch. Ask Heather out?"

"Yes. Okay, I can do that." He said trying to hype himself up.

You walked away feeling good about your plan when you decided to add one final touch to it. You looked back and called out to Rodrick.

"Oh, and don't forget, Heather looooves grand gestures!"

[justanotherlifeff]

Use of an unrequited love

Sukuna x reader [Final part of “Love is Meaningless” and “Posession”]

[Trigger warning: Kinda rapey and borderline non con. Sukuna is a red flag. Sukuna has some very backdated views on how women should dress. Sukuna is the trigger warning]

You always had these vivid dreams your entire life. Dreams that seemed awfully real despite being inexplicably blurry. You remember a time before you were born, before anyone you know existed. You remember a small hut, a decent family, a village full of friendly people. You remember a cave near the forests, the smell of homecooked food in a bento box, the sound of water at a passing by stream, the feeling of wet grass on your bare feet. You remember crimson eyes, a blurry figure, and an intense feeling of love. You remember so much, the sensations, the smell, the taste, and yet, you couldn’t remember who that man was, the one that took your heart for himself. You remember helplessness, fear, and pain from being stabbed and it all goes blank each time. And then, you woke up to face reality, as you always do after these dreams. However, this time you were looking into those crimson eyes that had always existed in those unreachable dreams.

You didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was being hit in the head while trying to fight Sukuna after he took over Megumi’s body. However, you were definitely terrified, given the fact that in the traditional Japanese room with you was the king of curses himself, waiting for you to wake up with an unreadable expression on his face.

How adorable, he thought, when you regained consciousness and had that look of abject horror. To think you of all people would look at him this way someday. Fate truly was laughably cruel. “I won’t hurt you, brat.” He chuckled, finding your reaction hilarious, and yet, more painful than any wound he had ever suffered. To think, the woman who accepted him with open arms a thousand years ago looked at him like the curse he was. Didn’t he fall for you because you never looked at him this way back then? What even was left of that love you two had? “Where am I?” You asked him, your voice full of fear and surprisingly, intrigue. He didn’t quite understand your reaction. “I wondered, how I would react if I ever heard you say these words. Whether I would chop you to pieces for acting like I was some parasite possessing Itadori for so long. But I’m afraid, whoever decided to play this sick joke towards me were right about one thing. I cannot kill you.” Sukuna sighed. That expression confused you. What was that expression in his eyes? Was it… longing? Why was there this expression of profound loss in his eyes? Why did you see these eyes in your dreams?

“Why can you not kill me?” You asked, trying to get as much information as you could. Perhaps it would help you escape, perhaps it will help you understand his weaknesses. Or perhaps, you would understand if those dreams truly had any significance. You were grasping at any opportunity at this point. “Ryomen Sukuna never took in a wife and never had children, that’s what you humans were taught in history, correct?” He asked, the frown never leaving his lips. “Yes. Was this wrong?” You asked, definitely curious. This was huge information after all. “Heh. Wrong is an understatement. I had a wife who was going to give me an heir. Before I became the king of curses, when I was just a wretch, a worthless being in this worthless world. She was weak, pathetic even. Her humanity was what killed her. And with herself, she took away the child too.” He chuckled dryly, as if he was amused by the sheer audacity of the world. He didn’t care that the wedding never happened. That you died before he could make you his, before he could give you the happiness you deserved. You were his wife in that lifetime. He didn’t accept otherwise in his mind.

Ah, that sounded, awfully familiar. Yet, somehow, when you dared to look into Sukuna’s eyes as he spoke of that past that you dreamed of, you knew exactly who you were to him. What you didn’t know was how to feel about it. “Why are you making that expression?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow at the shock in your eyes. He didn’t even tell you the whole thing yet so why were you so shocked? “Was I… her?” You asked him, not knowing what else to say. “You knew? Heh, you are a tricky one huh… How did you know? Well, I suppose that’s good since I wouldn’t have to waste my breath explaining things to you. I’m sure you realize exactly what I want from you, correct?” He had a smile on his face as he told you this, pleased that he wouldn’t have to speak of those complicated emotions. You never imagined you would see the king of curses make such an expression.

Saying no to him is a privilege in Sukuna’s views, and you didn’t earn that privilege yet. How could you? After all, in his views, you owe him far too much. You owe him his heir, you owe him your life, you owe him whatever humanity he had left in him before your death. However, he owed you everything he was. He became the King of Curses because of you and he was never one to forget ones who did him a favor. His power, his influence, everything happened because of you and he wasn’t one to stay indebted. As on que, you disappointed him yet again. “I don’t want this. You stand against everything I fight for. You have killed so many, you have massacred hundreds and thousands… I.. or to be more precise, my previous incarnation did not fall in love with this. I fell for a man who was ostracized by society because of the way he was born. I fell for a man who deserved to be treated like human. I didn’t fall for a monster.” Was your reply.

“Did you truly believe I care for your opinion? You’re mine. I won’t hurt you, not physically atleast, nor will I kill you but that doesn’t change the fact that I take what’s mine. So get this ridiculous notion out of your head that what you say, or what you want, matters to me. We could do this two ways. You can continue to reject me, defy me, and I will take away everything you care for one by one. I will kill your family, kill that pet dog you like so much, kill your friends, and kill other humans right infront of you so that I am all you have left. Or you could give in, forget about those foolish ideals you live for, and I would give you the world. I will personally make sure your family is not harmed and I will even bring that mutt to you. As for your friends and other people, I cannot make promises since your friends are my enemies. However, even a child can tell what the better option is.” Sukuna snapped at you, anger evident. How dare you defy him? How dare you try to take yourself away from him after he waited for a millennia?

He was right, you knew the better option. Reality was, you were selfish. Like all humans, you had your vices. Even now, you didn’t wish for your family to be harmed, and you knew that Sukuna was the type of man who keeps his promises. So you just looked away, and nodded, trading your friends, your companions for your family. You dreamed of a life where you would meet a good man, have a family. However, those dreams seemed like childish musings. Reality was always different, cruel. Just like how Sukuna’s satisfied smile looked more cruel than anything to you.

“Using your family works to convince you, even now… Even after what happened in your previous life.. How naive.. No matter, anyone who attempts to harm you or take you away will face a fate worse than death. Your weakness wouldn’t take you away anyone.” He said with a smile, cupping your cheek. It would sound romantic in normal circumstances but it wasn’t. You knew that your friends will attempt to save you and he would kill them. “I have restrained myself long enough. You have heightened my temptation all those months, dressing like a vulgar whore after all. Then again, all women seem to dress that way in this era. Take responsibility for your actions, woman” The smug smile on his faces told you what was about to happen. “Strip”, he commanded.

“Sukuna.. I don’t… Im not ready…” You tried protesting with a shaky voice much to Sukuna’s annoyance. “Cease your incessant whining. You’re alive because of those disgusting emotions you make me feel or you would be dead already for defying my orders. I will say this one last time. Or else, I will tear those clothes off you myself. Strip.” His voice rang, full of displeasure. With shaky hands, you complied. “Just as beautiful as I remember… I must thank whoever decided to play this cruel joke on me before killing them” Sukuna chuckled, moving close to you, eyeing your bare skin, his arms grabbing your waist to pull you closer. “Look at me” he commanded, using one hand to grab you by your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of your lips like a starved beast. Even a millenia later, you tasted the same. Your lips felt the same, soft against his.

Yet, something was missing. He couldn’t quite figure out what as he pushed you down on the futon nearby. Something about you made this different, less pleasing, less fulfilling. The thought didn’t leave his mind even as he undressed, even as he lifted your legs up on his shoulder, spat on your cunt to make it wet and plunged his cock into you. The sounds you made, of pleasure and pain were the same. The moans, whimpers, calling his name out as you grabbed his forearms, scratched his back raw… it was all the same. Your insides were just as tight, as warm, just as pleasurable as he remembered. As he fucked into you, ramming his cock against your cervix, he ended up saying those dreaded words that he only uttered all those years ago.

“I love you. Fuck! Ill make you my queen. Ill give you the whole damn world at your feet. You feel like heaven on Earth, my love. I love you.” He groaned out in your ears, about to reach his release as the erotic sounds of your moans and whimpers of his name were music to his ears. Thats when he realized what was missing. You didn’t tell him you loved him back. Not once did you show any affection towards him. As he reached his release, filling you to the brim with his seed, he realized that you weren’t the woman who loved him despite him being a monster. You were simply someone who looked like her and shared her memories. You did not love him. Unfortunately, somewhere in his twisted heart, he desperately wanted to believe you would give in if he fucked you well enough. That you would become the woman who captured his heart and he could just continue on like nothing happened. Like you never died in that past life. However, reality was often disappointing.

Pulling out of you, he was lost for a moment as he got up and sat at the edge of the bed. After a moment, he spoke. “Leave, Y/N” he said, his voice hardened. “W-what?” You asked, panting and surprised by his words. “I will win this world first. And then I will win your heart again. So, leave. Spend time with those you care for because they may die when I conquer this world. You’re not the woman I fell for. Atleast, not yet.” Sukuna answered, not even giving you a glance. “You’re just letting me leave? Just like that?” You were shocked, wondering if this is some kind of trick. “What use do I have of a love that is not returned?” Sukuna chuckled dryly in answer.

[bitchy-peachy]

I don't know whether I should find Trump voters freaking out after learning that Trump doesn't care about him funny or infuriating. It's funny bc literally every reason they had voted for this man was a bold-faced lie and infuriating bc ppl on both sides has be telling them over and over that Trump would fuck America over and now that it's affecting them and their precious gas and egg price, they want to cry about being duped.

I find regretful Trump voters quite pitiful and soulless. Which is quite a lot from me cos when I despise someone to the core I go completely apathetic towards any suffering they may have.

They voted as selfishly as possible. Some didn't even care about the prices or anything, but yes for "sticking it to the libs".

But... While a lot of maga voted for Trump because he openly hates those they hate, there's unfortunately a lot of dumbass people that actually believed he would "unify" America.

(I'm not even joking. I've seen some maga online that are that effing delusional. They really thought they were the "good guys" in voting for the orange skidmark. I swear they need to get slapped for the audacity but I don't want to catch shit from them. )

These are the same people that compared wearing a freaking MASK to slavery so they've always been stupid and also racist af. They blame and project their own mediocrity on minorities and women (even if they're women themselves cos holyshit do maga women hate other women. My own maga mother... Oh she's literally hates everything with a vagina, even animals)

Those voters regretting their vote now... They won't even get the concept of pity from me. (My maga mother and her crying over her VA benefits she voted away lost me forever too.)

They didn't even know what tariffs were ffs. Or that "Obamacare" (a nickname given by republicans themselves, btw 😂) is the ACA they wanted to keep.

They just saw "Obama" in the little nickname and thought "Evil Black Democrat President is robbing us blind. We only want ACA🤬!"

Some are trying to lie to themselves thinking the tariffs will bring back American jobs (😂) and make us buy only "American products" ignoring the fact that our "American products" have imported components that will be affected by these tariffs.

So our "Made in America" shit... Yeah. That's going up.

Oh don't get me started on how more than half of our agriculture is imported and the agriculture that's actually done in our country is done mostly by immigrants that get paid shit wages. (And when Trump deports them all and farmers are forced to hire Americans that couldn't be assed to work a field, the prices will go up for our local agriculture as well)

These morons, we have to call them that, voted for the most epic downward spiral that will tank the American economy for potential decades (not just a few years of "hardship" like that Immigrant-That-Should-Get-Pimp-Smacked-Back-To-Africa Musk claimed.)

Sad thing is that we already had poverty. The middle class no longer exists. It's everyone's poor but with a handful of rich fucks.

And these moronic ass people just freaking put that shit on steroids with their dumb fucking voting.

People tell me I shouldn't insult them so much but shit. They're fucking stupid as hell.

They don't even understand why even relatives and friends don't wanna talk to them anymore 😂.

Oh its not a "difference of opinion". They voted to make us poorer, take rights away from the lgbtqia, women (yes, you miscarry and you can die from it now cos the procedure to remove rotting fetus matter is an abortion which these stupid dumbfuckers are very deaf about.), they voted against ALL POC (including the idiots that voted against themselves. DING DING DING! DENATURALIZATION! America has done it before and Trump will be bringing it back with his fake ass "invasion" emergency to activate the army), they voted against affordable healthcare and therefore fucked over people with preexisting conditions/disabilities etc., they voted against education because republicans need only stupid people to keep them in power.

Heck, they voted against gender affirming care because they think it only affects trans people when there's people with health conditions that require this kind of care (like me. A cis woman that produces too much estrogen that causes me a variety of health problems.)

Red states are behind in everything. Education, health, minimum wages but they're sure winning by being higher in crimes, sex crimes, incest and poverty.

They mooch off blue states taxes. They don't give as much as much back as they take. If it weren't for "demonrats" they'd be completely off the map.

Republican voters like living that way without realizing they could have been so much better.

They keep willingly voting for people that keep them in that life or worse... considering that these elections had very high stakes.

These elections were not like others in the past. He has too much power with the SC, senate and representatives.

Trump voters regretting their votes now should wipe words like freedom and patriot off their vocabulary because they have selfishly and quite stupidly fucked America.

Damn this shit was long, LMFAOOO.

[bitethedevil]

More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigod!Reader): Chapter 3

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five

Read this on AO3

Summary: You get an unwanted visit from your father and you finally have the opportunity to give him a piece of your mind, though he does the same and scares the Hells out of you. Raphael takes you to the Hells, introduces you to Haarlep, and you basically do the Infernal version of getting married in Las Vegas on a whim.

Word count: 4,441

(AN: Had a lot of fun making up Infernal wedding traditions and yeah, it is one hundred percent inspired by that one scene in House of the Dragon)

TW: Blood

You were considering Raphael’s little marriage proposal: you were considering telling him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. The audacity of him…You would not spend centuries trapped in the Hells, when you would finally have the power that you had sought for so long within your grasp. Especially not as Raphael’s doting wife.

You liked Raphael. Despite his nature and his arrogance, the two of you were kindred spirits and he had grown on you throughout the many years that you had known each other. You still thought he was overstepping with his little plan.

Although he was right about one thing: the gods would not take kindly to your newfound powers. You were at a risk if you decided to stay in the Material Plane after claiming your father’s powers, as the gods might strike you down. You would become a threat to them.

A fact that was quickly proven as you fell asleep a couple of nights after your meeting with Raphael.

You suddenly saw a bright light as you were deep in slumber. You blinked in confusion and looked around at your surroundings. Anger started boiling up inside you at the realization of where you were: the Heavens.

Your dear father had suddenly remembered that he had a daughter, it seemed. You had not seen him since those few times he spoke to you when you were still a child. It had been before your mother died. The bastard did not even have the decency to check in on his child after she was essentially made an orphan.

Though here he was now, in front of you with his crystalline face and pale eyes, looking down on you as he had also done then. It angered you to no end that after having been ignored for over a whole millennium, now was the time he decided to show up. He spoke to you in Halruaan rather than in the common tongue.

“My dear daughter…” he greeted you.

You scowled at him.

“What a joke,” you scoffed in Halruaan. “I’m neither dear to you nor have you ever acted like a father to me. What do you want?”

You already knew what he wanted. He felt threatened by what you were doing, and you wanted him to admit it.

“Do you truly hate me so much, child?” Savras asked with a stern voice. “I know the things you have said of me. Are you truly so arrogant? You believe my actions unwise, though have you considered that I simply have seen the grander picture and made my decisions accordingly? You see clearer than any other mortal, and yet, there some things you cannot see and other things you willfully ignore.”

Any ‘other’ mortal, you noted he said. Your father saw you as nothing more than a mortal playing with things she did not understand. His accusation of you being arrogant was also rich coming from him who was currently talking down to you as if you were an insignificant speck.

“Arrogant, am I?” you snapped at him in common and all that hate that you had been keeping inside came rushing to the surface. “If who I am offends you, perhaps you should have been there to raise me. You see everything, isn’t that so, oh wise Savras, the All-Seeing? You knew my mother would die! And you did nothing! I was alone!”

Savras looked down at you with those empty eyes that you remembered from the few times he had spoken to you in your childhood.

“Your mother was supposed to die,” he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. “Some things are not to be changed. You know that Sibylla.”

Your eyes started tearing up despite your roaring anger at what he had said.

“Why would you put me in this world, just to be alone?” you spat at him.

“You were not alone. You had guidance from the wizard Melesmer. You were always meant to meet,” Savras said. “It is how it should be.”

“But he died too…” you said, your voice cracking.

“Though he did not die before teaching you the things that he should teach you,” Savras said coldly.

“What things?” you asked frustratedly. “Answer my question! Why did you have me just to let me suffer on the Material Plane? I prayed to you at every temple I could find, for decades, and you never answered me.”

“It is all a part of the greater picture, dearest daughter,” Savras explained. “You are immortal, and loneliness is the curse to the blessing. You will not remedy that by clinging to this…hellish half-breed, this cambion of yours. His interference in your life will only bring destruction and chaos. I have seen it.”

For some reason, it angered you even further to hear him speak of Raphael in such a manner.

“Devil,” you corrected angrily. “He’s a devil, not a ‘half-breed’ and not a cambion. And he has been there for me more than you ever have, father.”

“He will lead you to ruin, Sibylla,” Savras warned. “You will discourage him from taking the Crown of Karsus, and you will leave him and the Scepter of Savras alone. If you do not, there will be grave consequences. You are playing with the fates of a lot of mortals, child. I will not abide it.”

You sneered at him.

“How dare you demand anything of me!” you hissed at him. “So, this is what it takes for you to finally act instead of passively letting fate pass you by? You can send me back. No doubt Mystra and Azuth misses their loyal dog.”

Savras’ eyes turned thunderous, and you could physically feel the ground underneath you shake as he spoke. You felt genuine fear for the first time in centuries.

“You will heed my warnings!” he roared. “I am breaking my own principles to warn you, you arrogant child! When I look into the future I see a void, and it will come to pass if you continue down this road. I will not be able to save you from gods, devils, or mortals, should you be ignorant enough to go through with this.”

You were terrified in the face of your father’s wrath, but your stubbornness forced you to try and keep a brave face.

“Send me back,” you said quietly.

Savras raised his hand and scowled at you.

“If you cannot stop this because I tell you to,” he said. “Then think of what Melesmer would have said.”

Savras sent you back with a flick of his wrist and you woke up in your bed covered in sweat.

The next day, Raphael came by to hear if you had changed your mind. You were pacing around your tower in Waterdeep like a trapped animal. There was no doubt about it: your father had delivered a threat from the gods to you. There was a real possibility that they would strike you down, even before you got your hands on the scepter. You were getting paranoid.

The fear of dying is usually a foreign concept to an immortal, and you were experiencing the feeling for the first time in your life. It was terrifying. You did not even hear Raphael appear because you were so lost in thought. You jumped when he put a hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.

“Whatever is the matter?” he asked confused and looked at your wide-eyed expression.

“We’re doing it,” you said hurriedly. “And we are doing it now. I’m moving in with you.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“Doing what precisely?” he asked.

“What do you think?” you said frustratedly. “We are getting married. I’m moving in and I am getting out of this realm as fast as possible.”

“What has gotten into you? Calm down, dear,” Raphael said.

You spoke in a lowered voice, as if the gods might be eavesdropping. It made no sense, but your mind was running on anxiety.

“My father visited me last night,” you said. “He warned me about all of this, about the consequences, about you. Not only did he warn me, but it sounded like an actual threat. Please…just take me to Avernus.”

Raphael seemed slightly surprised but nodded. He snapped and the both of you appeared in the House of Hope.

You explained it all to him. How your father had approached you for the first time in millennia and how he warned you about what would happen if you went through with it. You were quickly convinced that staying on the Material Plane was not the way to go.

You weren’t a fan of the idea of marrying Raphael, but the more he clarified and explained how it would work, the more at ease you felt. It seemed simple enough and Raphael went into every little detail of what he expected of you.

You would act like his wife to the public, you would share a bed or at the very least a room when you slept, and you would put on a convincing performance, or the plan would crumble. The devils of the Hells had a good nose for deceit.

Your eventual divorce would be easy enough: it was simply dependent on a verbal agreement between the two of you as well. All you had to do was to mutually come to the agreement that you no longer wished to be married.

You both agreed that the wedding ritual would be performed as quickly as possible so you both could get to work. Luckily, Raphael was ordained to perform the ritual himself, as he was the child of an Archdevil, so you could get it over with in private and without anyone else there.

What you were not a fan of was the outcome of the ritual itself. Raphael explained that you would bear a mark that marked you as his and that particular detail made it hard to swallow your pride.

“I will be marked?” you asked.

“It would not be visible to you,” Raphael explained. “It is merely a formality, really. It is proof that you belong to me.”

“Like a dog-collar…” you commented with a tight-lipped smile. “Will it say, ‘Please return to Raphael if lost’ in Infernal as well?”

Raphael sighed.

“There is little difference between a mark and the rings that mortals give each other,” Raphael explained with a shrug. “Both signal ownership beneath all the tradition and symbolism.”

“Well, there is a difference,” you said. “You won’t bear a mark as well, will you?”

“It is a question of hierarchy,” Raphael explained. “As you are not even a fiend, I outrank you. I cannot make exceptions for you, dear. We will no doubt make a controversial couple as it is…And speaking of ownership, there is another topic that might be uncomfortable for you to discuss that I must bring up as well.”

“Which is?” you asked.

“Sex,” Raphael said casually. “Neither of us are the other unfaithful. We are not to bring other people into our marriage, it is simply too risky for what we are doing.”

“Are you serious?” you asked with a sigh. “Not even if it’s really discreet and someone we can trust?”

“You might as well learn this now,” Raphael said with a raised finger to emphasize his point. “There is no one in the Nine Hells that you can trust. I will keep using Haarlep to sate my needs if you do not wish to, and you are free to do the same, but no one else is to be involved.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not stupid, I know how incubi work. You can keep Haarlep to yourself,” you said. “And I’m not having sex with you either.”

“As you wish,” Raphael replied.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but if sex was the price to pay for security, power, and not getting struck down by the gods, then you could live with it.

“Speaking of Haarlep,” you said. “When will I meet them? I’ve heard you complain so much about them that I feel like I already know them.”

Raphael shrugged and got up from his seat. He beckoned you to follow him.

He took you to a room you had never been in: his bedroom. It was extravagant to the point of excessiveness. You immediately noticed the large pool in the middle of the room.

“Bit much, don’t you think?” you teased Raphael quietly.

He looked at you briefly and rolled his eyes before calling for Haarlep.

“Haarlep!”

“Mmmh?” someone said from further inside the room. It was the unmistakable sound of someone just waking up from a nap.

“We have guests,” Raphael said harshly. “Put on a robe before you enter.”

You took in the room while you waited for Haarlep.

“We’re getting drapes,” you said quietly to Raphael.

“Excuse me?” Raphael said and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You heard me,” you said. “You might be used to there being no night in Avernus, but I’m not.”

“You will get used to it, surely,” Raphael said.

“You can see in the dark anyway, so it matters little to you,” you countered. “You will get used to it. We are getting drapes.”

“Fine,” he sighed and then impatiently called for Haarlep again. “HAARLEP!”

“Always so impatient!” a very familiar voice drawled, making you furrow your brow in confusion.

Haarlep appeared in a black silk robe with red flower detailing. Their eyes lit up and their jaw fell slightly at seeing you.

“No, it can’t be,” Haarlep said excitedly. “Am I finally getting the honor of meeting the little goddess Raphael keeps talking about?”

Your face was frozen in a wide-eyed expression with a smile that was both confused and endlessly amused on your face as you looked Haarlep up and down.

Raphael had neglected to tell you a pretty crucial detail about Haarlep: that they were wearing his form. Not only that, but they also looked exactly like how Raphael had looked when you met him for the very first time in Halruaa all those years ago.

You turned your head to Raphael with the same frozen expression on your face. Raphael narrowed his eyes at you as if warning you to thread carefully. Bullying material for the next few centuries had just been served to you on a silver platter.

“How nice to meet you Haarlep…” you said and turned your attention back on them. “Excuse my reaction, but I didn’t expect you to be…well…him.”

“Oh, don’t insult me,” Haarlep purred and pulled you into a tight hug as if the two of you had known each other for forever.

You froze slightly in their embrace. You had never been hugged by Raphael before and it was odd to be embraced by his body like that. You also felt a bit too much of Raphael’s anatomy through the robe, making you move back a bit. Haarlep let you go from the embrace but kept resting their arms around your neck.

“I have heard so much about you, darling,” Haarlep purred and studied your face. “You are even prettier than I imagined and trust me he has gone on and on about you—”

Raphael interrupted Haarlep by clearing his throat and glaring daggers at them. Haarlep smiled mischievously to him over your shoulder.

You studied Haarlep’s face as well. It was so odd to see Raphael’s young face again. You had almost forgotten how he looked underneath all the glamour. Haarlep smiled at you.

“Look how young you looked once…” you said to Raphael over your shoulder. “You were kind of cute.”

Raphael was looking at the both of you with a tired expression.

“Hah!” Haarlep laughed. “I like her already. Can we keep her?”

“She is moving in, and we are doing the union ritual tomorrow,” Raphael replied smoothly. “Which means that you will move into the guest room and only enter here when called upon from this day forward. Do you understand?”

“Whatever for?” Haarlep asked with a slight pout. “Surely she wouldn’t mind sleeping between the two of us…”

Haarlep smiled at you, and you felt a hand slide down your back, making you shiver and take another step away from them.

“Oh, there will be none of that,” you quickly said, politely but firmly to them. “I’m not interested, Haarlep.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” They said with a sultry expression. “Because I am very interested, and I think that you will also find that I am very persuasive, little goddess…”

“Haarlep,” Raphael warned firmly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Haarlep said and sighed dramatically. “I will move my things to the guest room.”

Haarlep sauntered through the room.

“Oh,” they said and paused to look back at Raphael. “And congratulations on the engagement, of course, you lucky boy.”

Haarlep gave you one last glance before leaving you and Raphael alone in the boudoir.

The both of you were quiet for a moment.

“Well…that was interesting,” you said. “Do you seriously mean for us to start sleeping together in the same bed already?”

“Yes,” Raphael said casually. “Is there a problem with that?”

“It’s just that I thought we could wait until you have the Crown and all that,” you said.

“We might as well start becoming more comfortable with each other now,” Raphael said. “It will make it seem more natural once we have to keep up our little charade.”

“Alright…” you said and shrugged. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m getting fake-married tomorrow…It will just be the two of us, right?”

“There is nothing ‘fake’ about it, dear,” Raphael said and smiled. “We are getting married tomorrow. And correct…just the two of us.”

“It’s weird. Isn’t it weird?” you asked, clearly sounding nervous. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“I suppose I have had more time to make peace with the idea than you have,” Raphael said calmly. “Why, is the blushing bride getting cold feet?”

“Oh shut up…” you said quietly. “This is a perfectly sensible thing to be scared about.”

“It is merely a political alliance, my dear,” Raphael said. “The terms of it are entirely up to you. I would never force you to do anything.”

“You know I’d tear you apart if you tried to,” you said and started walking in circles.

You took a deep breath.

“Just a political alliance…” you mumbled to yourself as a mantra.

After a long day of talking every little detail of your future arrangement through, you were both exhausted and went to bed. Raphael wasted no time starting to undress once you got to the boudoir.

“Whoa, wait a moment,” you said. “Are you taking all your clothes off?”

Raphael paused and looked at you as he was halfway through unbuttoning his shirt. He had already discarded his doublet.

“Did you expect us to sleep fully clothed?” he asked with a smile. “You are free to avert your gaze if the view offends you.”

You wrinkled your nose at him and looked away, while you slipped into bed.  

“I’m sleeping in mine,” you said. “I’m not getting naked in front of you. You can add a screen to the list of things we need for the boudoir, along with the drapes, which I can’t help but notice still haven’t been put up.”

You heard a ‘poof’ from where he was standing. You glanced at him. He had changed into his devil form.

“You’re kidding, surely,” you said. “You’re not sleeping in that form, are you?”

“Sibylla…” Raphael said tiredly. “Do you intend to complain about every little thing I do?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “If I feel as much as a tip of a wing, or horn, or any other limb for that matter, while I sleep, I might just freeze it off.”

Raphael slipped into bed beside you.

“Do you wish to know what I think?” Raphael asked as he laid down beside you, facing you.

“No.”

“You are pestering me because you are terrified,” Raphael said anyway. “In fact, I am not sure I have ever seen you as rattled as you have been today. Is it merely that we are getting married tomorrow or does your little meeting with your father have something to do with it as well?”

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Both,” you said. “I can’t believe that I’m going to be stuck here…”

“I could comfort you and tell you that there are worse places to be stuck, but we both know that would be a lie,” Raphael said and stretched his limbs before closing his eyes with a sigh. “But rest assured that I will do everything in my power to make sure your stay here is as comfortable as it can be. It will only be a few centuries. It will have passed before you know it.”

“Hm,” you hummed.

It didn’t take long before Raphael fell asleep. You couldn’t sleep for all the thoughts going through your head. It was all so much to take in.

The next day the both of you got dressed in white clothing for the ritual. You in a white dress and Raphael in a simple white pants and ruffled shirt. You weren’t quite sure why that was a part of it. Perhaps Infernal weddings were steeped in just as much tradition as mortal weddings were.

Raphael had talked you through the whole thing before you even started. You decided to do it on the balcony. There were two daggers laid out on the table beside you and you were standing in front of each other.

You placed your hands flatly against Raphael’s as he had explained. Your hands were slightly shaking. Raphael smirked when he felt it. He interlaced his fingers with you instead and held your hands.

“Breathe,” he said.

You nodded and closed your eyes for a moment. You had no idea why you were so nervous. You had made up your mind about doing it, but still it made you so anxious. You took a deep inhale and then exhaled.

“Should we start?” Raphael asked calmly.

“Sure,” you said quietly.

Raphael said a few short sentences in Infernal before getting a dagger from the table. He placed the blade of the dagger between your left hand and his right hand that was intertwined with it. He said a few words again before pressing his palm against yours and pulling the dagger out. You winced when you felt it cut into your flesh, but you didn’t move.

He nodded to you, gesturing for it being your turn. You moved your bloodied hand from his to grab the other dagger to put it between your right hand and his left. He said some more words and you pulled the dagger away, cutting the both of you deeply just like before.

You held both of your bloody hands flatly to his while he mumbled some more sentences in Infernal. The blood was steadily dripping from your hands. The bloodshed wasn’t over yet though. There was one final step.

You both grabbed a dagger each and came closer to each other. You felt your heart beating slightly faster despite yourself as you briefly looked him in the eyes. He parted his lips, and you held his chin and placed the tip on the blade to his bottom lip. He did the same to you. You both cut at the same time before dropping the daggers onto the table again.

You could see the blood was dripping down his chin and you could feel your own running down yours. You were so close to each other’s faces. You placed your bloody hands on his shoulders, and he placed his on your hips. You looked each other in the eyes, though Raphael’s eyes sometimes flicked to your lips with a look of hunger in them.

He spoke the last couple of sentences in Infernal. There was a breathier quality to his way of speaking, and you could feel his breath on your skin because you were so close. When he was done speaking the words, he leaned forwards and kissed you.

You had been told to give it your all, so you did. Your lips parted for him, and you felt his tongue invade your mouth, tasting your blood. You did the same to him. Though it felt odd to kiss someone on the lips that you had known for so long, you had to admit that there was something deeply sinful and exciting about the act of it.

You suddenly flinched when you felt your left arm starting to burn slightly. Raphael grabbed it and ran his thumb over it, never releasing the kiss. You whined slightly at the sensation.

“Shhh,” he shushed against your lips. “It will be over in a moment.”

His lips met yours again and the kiss was softer this time as you felt the burning sensation become worse. You dug your nails into his shoulders as the pain peaked and passed. Only when he could feel you loosen your grip on him did he release the kiss. 

“There,” he said and looked you in the eyes.

The two of you were still standing close to each other and you noticed you were still holding onto his shoulders. You let go of him and stepped back.

“So, it’s done?” you asked. “We’re married?”

“We are,” he said and grabbed some cloth from the table to wrap around your hands that were still dripping with blood.

You rolled up your sleeve with your free hand and looked at the spot where you had felt the burning. There was raised scars depicting Infernal letters around your forearm. Raphael looked at them before continuing to wrap your hand.

“The scars will heal, and the mark will not be visible to you once it has,” he explained. “Only devils will be able to see it.”

You looked at the strange letters in wonder.

“What does it even say?” you asked.

Raphael smiled.

“’Please return to Raphael if lost’, of course,” he said.

You gave him a light slap on his shoulder with your free hand, and immediately regretted it when you felt the scar in your palm hurt. Raphael chuckled.

“It says which layer the union took place on and who you are married to,” he explained.

“Hm,” you said and looked him up and down.

It suddenly made sense why you both wore the white clothing. You were both soaked with blood, and it made a pretty contrast against the white. The symbolism of ruining something pure with blood also fit perfectly into the culture of the Hells. There was something morbidly beautiful about it.

As he finished up wrapping your hands, you looked up at him.

“So, what now?” you asked.

Raphael smiled.

“A bath, a drink, and then we get to work,” he said.

[bogwaterparasite]

Mask

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Paring: Dg Kang x Shizuka (oc)

WC: 1.3k

CW: None?? Teasing I believe, but nothing too bad

A/N: Another one YIPPEEEEE, once again I didn’t proof read this one either, so it might be a we bit funky. I hope you enjoy tho!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“You have got to be joking.”

The absurd sight before him caused Diego to erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, his loud chuckles echoing through the spacious room. Just before him stood Choi, his ever-serious boss, accompanied by a young woman who appeared to be around his age. However, what made the scene so utterly hilarious and ridiculous was the fact that the girl had a flimsy paper plate covering her face, two holes cut out to allow her to see her surroundings, and a stupid smile drawn on with a red marker.

Choi had been talking about getting a bodyguard for DG, and although it wasn't something he was favorable for, he'd imagined it would be someone stronger, intimidating even. But this? Her? This was supposed to be the person entrusted with protecting him? The notion seemed laughable at best. He was James Lee, the infamous legend who had built an empire through cunning, violence, and sheer audacity. He made sure to always leave a reminder of his power. A man of his stature and power didn't need some preposterous bodyguard, let alone one who thought concealing her identity with a paper plate was a totally normal thing to do. Why on earth would Choi think he needed someone to protect him? Did he really look down on him that much?

To make matters even more absurd, his supposed protector was a mere girl, her identity cloaked behind that ridiculous paper disguise. Choi, who is typically a no-nonsense man, must have been playing an elaborate prank. There was simply no other plausible explanation for this bullshit unfolding before Diego's eyes.

"Are you quite done?" Choi asked, his tone dripping with annoyance, clearly not appreciating Diego's mocking laughter. "Stop behaving like a petulant brat and stand up. This is no joke."

It took him a moment to completely compose himself, clearing his throat with a cough. "Sir, you can't possibly think that she is going to be able to serve as my bodyguard." The idea itself was ridiculous.

“Perhaps it would be better if I showed you.” DG raised his eyebrow in confusion before quickly realizing what he meant. The man was quick to act, pulling out a gun and pointing it directly to his head. In one fluid motion, she disarmed Choi of his gun before either of them could blink. The weapon clattered to the ground as she held Choi in an inescapable wrist-lock. She released him a moment later, leaving Diego slack-jawed. Regaining her composure, she straightened her shirt brushing off the dust particles.

"I think you'll find my skills more than adequate, Mr. Lee," she stated flatly.

Diego knew then he had underestimated her. This was no mere girl - she was a highly trained machine, her abilities honed to sheer deadly perfection. Begrudgingly, he gave a curt nod of acceptance. She would make a formidable bodyguard indeed.

A few months had passed since Shizuka was assigned as his personal bodyguard, and all in all, it wasn't nearly as bad as he had initially imagined. Having her by his side proved to be quite useful, especially when dealing with the numerous fights that took part in his day-to-day life. As time passed, he had grown to think of her as a friend; after all, they were together 24/7, and it would've been hard not to get attached. However, there was still something that bothered him. That stupid paper plate mask she insisted on wearing still threw him off in an unsettling way.

She flat-out refused to remove or even lift up the flimsy disguise, only begrudgingly raising it briefly to quickly eat or drink something before letting it fall back into place over her features. Why did she feel like she needed to hide her face from him? It offended Diego on a personal level. He had to trust Shizuka with his life in the dangerous situations they found themselves in, but she couldn't trust him with a simple factor like her face. It wasn't like he would post it online or anything. There was no logical reason to maintain such anonymity, at least not for him

That irked him in a way that was hard to describe, and in a moment of frustration, Diego had tried to forcibly remove the mask, an action that proved to be a tremendous mistake. Though he was larger and ostensibly stronger, Shizuka did not play games when it came to that wretched paper plate. An argument quickly escalated; he made a grab for it, and the next thing Diego knew, he had been thrown against the wall with such explosive force that the air was violently knocked from his lungs. After that harrowing incident, he never attempted anything of the sort again.

He still found the entire mask situation utterly stupid, however. Choi had limitless resources of money at his disposal, yet all Shizuka had been provided was a simple paper plate to conceal her identity. It was ridiculous.

Eventually, Diego decided to put an end to the idiocy once and for all. For months, he had saved his money to commission a porcelain mask from one of the finest artisans in Seoul ensuring it was perfectly fitted so it would last. In an odd way, the thought of finally being rid of her paper plate filled him with a tinge of melancholy; it was so absurd, and yet it had become an inexplicable part of her charm over the course of their time together. One simply could not help but grow attached after living in such proximity.

He arrived home later that day, clutching a striking crimson box adorned with intricate golden details engraved along its sides. Without saying anything, he simply placed the box on the floor before her, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. "Open it," he demanded gruffly, his tough demeanor betrayed by the nervous drumming of his fingers against his biceps as he awaited her reaction holding his breath. What if she despised it? He briefly debated snatching the box away, but by the time the decision was made, it was already too late - she had opened it.

A knot formed in his throat as Shizuka did not immediately react, instead analyzing the mask cradled in her hands as the atmosphere grew tense with heavy silence. "It's fine if you don't like it, I can just return it," Diego blurted out hastily, reaching for the luxurious gift. A gift which she swiftly pulled away from his grasp. Without uttering a single word, she deftly removed the tattered paper plate and carefully secured the new mask over her features. He felt his heart skip a beat as he drank in her striking appearance. And although a new mask had once again found its place upon her face, he could not fail to notice the faintest glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she gave him a brief, solemn nod of gratitude.

Diego let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders finally relaxing as the weight of anxious anticipation melted away. Since the mask had been custom made, there would have been no feasible way to return it regardless of her reaction. He stooped down to retrieve the tattered remnants of her previous paper plate "mask" from the floor, using it to lightly fan his flushed face in an attempt to get rid of the ‘evidence’.

"I'll...throw this away," he murmured gruffly, his voice thick with an uncharacteristic vulnerability as he tenderly cradled the tattered disguise. "Anyhow, it's getting late. I'm heading to bed." The words tumbled out in an uncharacteristic rush as he swiftly turned and retreated towards his room, his heart hammering in his chest as he fought to regain his composure.

Months continued to steadily pass by, the ornate porcelain mask fastidiously maintained and cared for with the utmost devotion by its recipient. And the crumpled paper plate? That remained carefully enshrined within a simple box tucked just beneath Diego's bed to this very day.

[yesterdayiwrote]

Seeing a lot of comments about Wag age gap, and feel a little out the loop. Can you please fill me in??

From what I know, Franco has been spotted with a 30 yr old woman and now a few weeks after everyone making milf jokes when he was spotted with a woman in her 50s, a lot of people are actually getting very upset now he might genuinely be messing around with a woman in her 30s who also has kids. As I understand it she's a bit of a tabloid darling which I think is where a lot of the scandal is coming from, and a lot of fangirls are getting over involved because he's their current blorbo du jour.

People have been weird about Max and Kelly for years though and although I would agree shes associated with some pretty garbage people that are more than enough grounds to not like her, her age and the fact she has a child are pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things

And yeah, even back when Nicole was with Lewis people were weird about her being older (although in fairness I think she did end up dumping him for being too immature which...understandable)

But yeah its a weird little misogynistic/ageist hole f1 fandom is getting itself into and honestly what happens now is kind of mild compared to what f1 drivers used to get up to. Very funny that everyone has been cheering on Franco to be a messy bitch and the second he does something messy people are trying to wrap him up in cotton wool and save him from the woman who has had the audacity to have had sex before. He's having fun and getting laid... He might only have 3 weeks of this before he's back to obscurity... let the guy fuck?

[survivalist-anon]

Log 2: Living Under a Rock

It's been a week since my drop-off at the hospital....no surprise I've been having trouble sleeping, I got some work leave from my boss at the nature reserve.....god damn I'm fucking tired.

Local folks both new to the town and old friends have been pandering for questions.

Some of the local middle schoolers kept fallowing me to my work place asking me about the metal guy. I simply told them I shot him in the eye, than he exploded.....I wasn't expecting those annoying brats to tell other kids about it. Obviously the local pastor (Mark) has been sending his goons to come to my cabin to convince me to come to church for the sake of saving my soul and all that "lovely" jazz. I told them I literally may have met the devil, shot him in the eye, exploded , and now he's dead and thus to leave me alone.

Some folks are a little more respectful and just ask me about more personal things. Got recommended a therapist who just moved to town named Miss Jenny Oakley, nice lady, smiles all the time and has an impressive 3 PhDs in psychology and mental health medication. She's been helping me get through the whole thing and believes I'll be able to make a speedy recovery. She trusts my resolve and that's good in my book.

....now "Newly appointed Deputy" Jeff (my ex-boyfriend) apparently thinks he can just give me the presidential treatment. He keeps following my car EVERYWHERE. I feel like nuisance now this has happened, people keep staring at me when Jeff just follows me at this point. You'd think after our falling out he'd have the self respect to be a little less...creepy about it. He's stopped by my cabin to keep checking up on me....I wonder if he thinks it's going to be like in the movies where estranged lovers get back together if something happens....jokes on him... I do not need a guy who has tried to convince me to move to Ohio and insult my family's cultural background to boot. Asshole.

Anyways, I've been hanging out at this new coffee shop that's just opened up...it's cozy, sells actual homemade pastries and the coffee is pretty good. Finally, a nice third place. I've noticed more people around my age go there too .... however I've noticed one group constantly eyeing me from across the shop every time I go...they call themselves the "Marine Spotters"...I have no fucking idea what that intels, one of them came up to my table, had the audacity to sit down in front of me like he knew me.....

"So..........you saw one?", the unshaven neck beard asked.

".......you know you could have asked to sit down and I would have said yes but fine go off Gabe Newell.", I'm not usually this hostile but things have gotten tense for while....I wouldn't blame anyone for being upset at me for it either.

"heheh very funny, anyway, my name is Benedict Grabowski. I'm the local expert in these "big metal men "....I see based on your description you've seen a "Black Legion" marine. A level 3 on the danger scale and are quite rare in these parts.", he adjusts his glasses. "The fact you even survived a harrowing encounter with one is without a doubt a life achievement and a free ticket admission to our organization!", handing me a business card with some edgy cartoon spaceman, it had his phone number, email address and an actual address...it was the abandoned mineral mine not too far from the animal reserve I work at....

"I hope your membership will prove to be of great use to us.", concluding with a smug look on his jolly face.

I sat there ready to throw this guy from window I was seated next to....but I'm certain the shop owners wouldn't be too pleased.

".....why the .org?"

He acted confused, "I beg your pardon?".

"...the .org....on your email address....you don't work for the Tillamook station do you? I told them I don't know shit.", took a frustrated sip of my coffee.

He laid back, "well...I...what one would call....a "white hat hacker"....my services in online server hacking, government surveillance and hehe...not to brag...a national code cracking champion of the Tokyo Code Breaker competition. I actually am...not a huge fan of our corporate federal overlords and I only desire for their inevitable downfall through me tanking their stocks."...

I literally was sitting across to a felon....

"so ..with your epic survival skills, my tech mastery and my collaborators", he points to his original table of collected individuals; a heavyset goth girl, the kid of one of the local beef farmers and one creepy guy I remember being the weird kid in highschool.

"Hi Steven.", I wave to him.

"Hi Lorey!", he waves and gives his creepy grin that in through literally means nothing to me. He does it for a cheap bit that I'm certain Jeff already knows and is dieing to catch him for something.

By this point Benedict was actually shocked I knew Steven. "What?! I thought you just moved here!"

I chuckled a little, "I use to live here, I know the area rather well but it's changed a bit since I was last here back in 2003. Also....what the shit is this all about?". I point to the business card.

His shocked expression transforms back into that stupid 'big shot cool guy' look. "Well, we spot those big metal men. Turns out....these anomalous entities are actually appearing throughout the whole planet. All of them of variety and....motives....". He looks around, takes out a folder of the ever lovable 'blurry photographic evidence' one would expect looking for cryptids. "Behold. Humanoids who walk amongst us!".

Im staring at the photos, one struck me to my core ....the big black and bronze one I saw being blown to chunks...the one that killed Grandpa.

"ah...I see...so it was that one.", leaning towards me closer....I can smell the fucking butter from his croissant he ate at his table. "If you need us...call us....", he decided to leave a second card....ok....."anyway, surprised?"

I was a lot more than surprised....I must have been living under a rock...."yeah....I am."

After that I decided to go home. On the ride back, I couldn't help but wonder if Benedict was telling the truth... about them being everywhere...that's a scary thought in all honesty.

I get out my car and took one long glance at my Grandpa's cabin. His only inheritance to my mom. When I said the funeral was a mess, it was an absolute garbage fire because on the same day we had his will reading. His most valuable possession in his will was this cabin, and boy was my aunt pissed she didn't get the property. At least Mom had the last laugh, anyway....as I was remembering that day....I noticed something that sent shivers up and down my spine.

A blood trail....it looked like it came from the forest behind the property, up the steps and on to my doormat. I get out of the car, cautiously, for I all know whom ever left this bloody mess is close by.

It was a huge leather sack, sealed tight with...a red wax in the opening. It was leaking a lot, I was hesitant to open it, but the blood smelt familiar. "....it can't be....", I tore off the hard wax, the gamey stink of deer was permeating throughout the porch. Opening the sack, I saw what could be weeks worth of meat. I was stunned! All nicely cut and cleaned ...I tried lifting the sack without getting some blood on me...failed...and brought it to the cellar freezer. As I placed the meat in the freezer, I saw there was a note on the bag I hadn't noticed....it was a handwritten note for certain....but I had no idea what was written on it. Again, Nordic ruins were present...but it was mixed with another language...I took medieval history a short while back and had the privilege of almost learning how to read medieval texts....it was close to it...and yet... completely unreadable for me.

I set the note on a table and save it for later.

Everything has been so strange lately.

The hours pass, and I finally decided to do some digging....this has to be some...real life ARG or something....it's either a dedicated group of cosplayers....or... something is really out there...it's so uncanny....

End of log 2

@kit-williams

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 1

Today I’m going to be sharing some of my favorite Nick and June tracks that have us all hitting rewind over and over and over and over……..after all, who doesn’t love a good mix tape?

Oranges & Tuna

This is the first time we meet Nick but given June’s familiarity, it’s not the first time she has. In Atwood’s text, Nick sounds like a bit of alright and the POV camera shot when June comes down the stairs IS a touch pervy.

Nick’s working with his sleeves rolled up, sweating and judging by the wanton looks it seems June’s in no particular rush to go shopping. She also seems to know quite a bit about him already, including the fact that he’s single. In her head, June’s already inviting Nick down to the oyster house bar for a drink, a subtle reference to a well-known aphrodisiac. It takes all of 10 seconds for Nick to start flirting with her, by telling June a gag about not being a pescatarian. It’s a fact which June purposefully ignores, in order to return his flirtation, and that’s it, that’s all it takes…..Nick’s fucked.

Throughout the next few episodes we see that Nick can neither believe nor resist June’s audacity. Nick knows he should say something when he sees her legs uncovered but he says nothing and simply stares. The sound of the lid closing on the box in front of him is like a trap snapping shut.

He can’t resist standing waaaaay too close and stroking her hand when he brings her ice, the heat is palpable. Nick now knows he’s in serious trouble and June is left reeling. Throughout season 1 these two are constantly measuring and testing each-others boundaries, but honestly from the second Nick told his tuna fish gag, he may as well have waved a white flag.

You shouldn’t wear anything for me

Sweet mother of Mercy. Apparently the sight of June’s naked body has turned Nick Blaine into the master of the double entendre overnight. Season 1 sees Nick pulling the jokes out left and right, first with the tuna fish gag and now this. Nick can hardly keep a straight face as he delivers it and June barely stifles a chuckle. This casual comment is not only a statement about June never changing her appearance to please him, but also one about how desirable he finds her, naked and unmanicured.

This is also the first time we see these two perform their infamous hand brushing and it’s literally breathtaking for the both of them. It’s a moment steeped in danger, electricity and passion, as you sense them both recalling their previous night together. Glowing lights seem to follow these two around like a spell, and as they intertwine their fingers a luminous orb appears between their hands.

I’d like to say that June ever stood a chance at resisting the foxy driver’s charms but I’d be lying. He’s hot AF, lives less than 200 feet away and flirts with her shamelessly, this was all a done deal long ago. In Atwood’s text, these two can barely keep their hands off each other and Nick is described as absolutely fascinated with her. Not surprisingly then, this scene is closely followed by a knee trembling, face melting kiss that sends June straight from “it can never happen again, sorry Nick” to a dazed mess spelling saucy words during her scrabble game.

Is This It?

Nick thinks that breaking up with June is going to be simple, in fact he seems to think he won’t need to explain himself at all. June is having none of it, this is her one small ray of light in an otherwise dismal existence so Nick had better have a good reason.

He does, he’s already seen one handmaid die and he’s starting to get seriously attached to the new one. Seeing June on the wall just because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself is more than he could bear. This is Nick doing Nick: keep your head down, step aside, stay out of trouble and keep your mouth shut.

June rightfully calls him on his shit, accusing him of being a coward who wants only to be Fred’s whipping boy for the rest of his life. How could he want to live such a small life? It’s a gut punch that leaves Blaine looking suitably ashamed.

Their individual attitudes to “ending up on the wall” speak volumes about who these two are at heart. To June death is everywhere, living in terror isn’t living and the reward is worth the risk. Nick is a survivor, sacrifice for duty and self-preservation is second nature, a small life is better than no life at all. Unfortunately for Nick, his aspirations for a life half lived died the moment he met June Osborne. Before I get into Nick and June volume 2, I’ve got volume 1 of the Lawrence and June mix up next. Back soon.

[kaiwewi]

Once Upon a Christmas Mission

Secret Santa gift for @chaoticgoodthief Prompt: "Two people with opposite personalities falling in love and balancing each other out." Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

Synopsis: Supervillain gives her second in command a new mission. The job, (un)fortunately, comes with a new teammate.

“What do you make of this one?”

“The newbie?”

Frowning, they scanned the newspaper clippings Supervillain had spread out on the desk between them. The lack of enthusiasm on the journalists’ part was plain to see in the five unremarkable blocks of text with unimaginative titles. A small, slightly blurred image next to a short article on a mall robbery a month ago showed the grinning rookie villain dodging out of the way of some local hero’s attack. He held a fistful of jewellery in one hand and a hot dog in the other.

With an attitude like his, one could only wonder how the guy hadn’t been caught or killed yet.

They shrugged. “Amateur. Opportunist. Reckless. Flippant. More luck than brains.”

Supervillain hummed. She wore her impervious poker face. Everything about her posture and tone indicated disinterest. To so unnatural a degree, in fact, that it was fairly obvious she did have an agenda.

They internally groaned. This wasn’t going to end well, was it.

“Why are you asking?”

The corner of her lips twitched with something that might have been amusement at the audible unease in their question.

“No more than simple curiosity,” she said, clearly deflecting. “The other day, he approached me. Asked if we were hiring. Said he’d be eager to join us.”

Of course he would be. Any new villain in the area would grovel for a chance to work even a single job for Supervillain. Instant infamy by mere association. But the newbie’s audacity, bypassing the official procedures and approaching Supervillain directly…

“Ah, great. Reckless, flippant, and presumptuous.”

“So, you do not believe him promising?”

“Promising?” They made no effort to hide their scoff. “All I see is a liability.”

“Or a great asset, under the right person’s supervision.”

“You must be joking.”

That phantom of a smile on her face grew teeth. She was most definitely not joking.

“Surely you could utilise a versatile new piece on the board to its full potential, brilliant strategist that you are.”

“You know I don’t work well with unpredictable people.”

“You work fine with me, don’t you?”

She made that sound like casual banter; it smelled an awful lot like a trap.

“I don’t know why this newbie intrigues you so,” they said, weighing their words carefully, “but, and please pardon my bluntness, I do not want rogue pieces fucking with my game.”

“I’m afraid I need you to give him a chance,” she said as she produced a thin folder from the upper-most drawer of her office cabinet and slid it across the desk, “because I already hired him for this job I’m putting you in charge of.”

“Unbelievable! You could have asked me first.”

She should have asked them first.

“You would have said no.”

Damn right, they would have.

She gestured at the folder. “Christmas Eve. Your target is the Downtown Museum’s special End of the Year Exhibition. Can I count on you?”

Always. And she bloody well knew it too.

They heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fine. One chance. But I swear, if he fucks up…”

***

In the end, as irony would have it, when their meticulously crafted plan did fall to pieces, it wasn’t the newbie who’d fucked up.

He, against their admittedly low expectations, had listened most attentively, had carried out his orders diligently, hadn’t so much as offered a single sign of a contrary disposition. He’d checked in every other minute to report his position, had followed the exact route he’d been assigned at the exact pace they’d agreed upon.

So, as they guided him and the rest of the team through the first stage of their plan – getting everyone inside the museum undetected – they’d had to begrudgingly admit to themself that the only thing that stood out about the newbie was his annoying enthusiasm for doing a fantastic job.

And then, just when they’d started to think that maybe this would be another flawless operation after all, one of their field operatives, Tempest, reported in.

“—s….hing’s wrong. Sec..ity guard in Sector E. Hav. ..en spotted. Abort—”

Her voice cut off. Replaced by nothing but eerily crackling white noise.

It didn’t make any sense. How was there a guard in Sector E? They’d done the maths. They’d checked everything, countless times. Security wasn’t supposed to be in Sector E for at least another 10 minutes.

Not that it made much of a difference now that their cover had been blown.

Abort operation…?

Really the only viable option at this point. But that was unprecedented. There’d been hiccups on other missions, sure, but they’d never had to call for a full hasty retreat before.

Supervillain would be so disappointed.

But they had to. By the looks of it, they’d lost one operative already. They had to get the rest of the team out. This was their responsibility. Their fault. They had to do something before—

“Reporting in,” the newbie’s voice rasped from the radio. “This is Ghost. Current position: Sector E, entrance to Stairwell 4. Assisted Tempest. She is unharmed. But the security guard escaped. And he is not one of the regular crew. I repeat, the security guard is not one of the regular crew.”

Different security. Why was there different security?

They sucked in a breath that hardly made it past their throat and did nothing to relieve them of the tightness in their chest. Then they picked up the radio, and faltered.

Which of the escape routes was least likely to be compromised? It had to be an exit point everyone was able to reach. And quick. That security guard must have raised the alarm by now.

Precious seconds ticked away.

“Exit Strategy B,” they croaked. “I repeat, Exit Strategy B. Abort operation.”

***

A mere 40 minutes after their first failed mission – hardly enough time to begin to come to terms with how badly they’d fucked up, let alone recompose themself – the newbie found them sulking at the little table in the corner of the HQ’s staff kitchen.

If he’d seen them hastily brush some wetness from the corners of their eyes as he entered the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he wordlessly walked over and set a tray of cookies down next to their still untouched cup of black coffee.

They couldn’t bring themself to contemplate where he’d found those and they didn’t particularly feel like eating anything either. They took a cookie regardless.

“Great hiding spot,” the newbie said after a moment of tense silence. “Took me forever to find you.”

That’s because they hadn’t wanted to be found.

“What do you need?” they said, speaking more to their coffee than him.

“Nothing. But I’ve got something for you; thought it might be able to lift your spirits.”

Yeah, not bloody likely.

“No thank you.”

“Why not?”

Because they didn’t deserve cheering up.

“I messed it all up,” they said, and it felt like too much of an answer. Too raw. Too honest.

Their voice shook horribly. Pathetic.

“Nah, that was bad luck. Your plan was genius.”

“My plan failed.”

“You got everyone in and out.” He offered a loathsomely genuine reassuring smile. “That the museum spontaneously hired a different security team sucks. Not your fault though. No one could have seen that coming.”

They listlessly stirred their coffee with their cookie and laughed bitterly as it broke apart and disintegrated. Just like their plan. Nothing but lukewarm wet mush.

“I should have considered the possibility. I should have had another contingency plan. You don’t understand, do you? Knowing things, anticipating events, is my job. What good am I to my team when I can’t ever acquire crucial information? I almost got Tempest arrested.”

“But she wasn’t arrested.”

“No thanks to me.”

“You weren’t there,” he said, and somehow made it sound soothing rather than accusatory.

A beat of silence in which they forced another shallow breath into their lungs.

They wanted to scream. But they had to keep their frustration in check, be professional. The newbie didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. None of this was his fault. He’d done great. Without him there…

“Thank you,” they said on the exhale.

“We are a team, you know. You do the research, prepare the operation, brief us. You find us a safe way in and out.” As he spoke, the newbie scooped up a ridiculous number of cookies from the tray. “You’re not a field operative like Tempest and me. Reacting to unexpected events and new information in the field is our job,” he said kindly, then unceremoniously dumped the entire handful of cookies into his mouth.

Like this was coffee and cake at grandma’s and not him obligingly turning a blind eye to the fact his team leader was about to have a most unprofessional breakdown in front of him.

Gosh, it was so very hard not to judge him for his table manners. It was so ridiculous it almost startled a laugh out of them despite everything.

“For what it’s worth—” they tried for a small apologetic smile “—you did do a splendid job out there. I’ll make sure to inform Supervillain about that. I know how eager you were to work with her. I cannot imagine she’ll be best pleased when we turn up empty-handed … but I’ll do what I can to ensure this mess doesn’t reflect badly on you.”

Hazel eyes watched them closely while the newbie chewed and swallowed audibly. He licked the residue powdered sugar off his lips, off the tips of his fingers. The slight creases lining the outer edges of his lower eyelids bestowed a slightly impish quality to his gaze.

The only prominent lines on their own face were those born of frowns and brooding.

His was the face of someone accustomed to grins, smirks, and laughter.

He wasn’t grinning now, of course, but …

They’d expected him to be upset. Disappointed. Anxious, perhaps, that he might have lost his one chance to impress Supervillain. But, if anything, he appeared clad in an air of nervous excitement.

“Soooo,” he drawled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Speaking of Supervillain … I was wondering. Why didn’t you tell us what we were to steal for her? Why weren’t we supposed to know until we reached Gallery 5?”

“No particular reason,” they said, careful to temper the displeasure creeping into their tone. “It was information you didn’t require prior to reaching the target location.”

The newbie pulled a face and visibly bit back what would have undoubtedly been a snide comment. Instead, he asked, “yeah okay, but what was it?”

“Hardly matters now, does it.”

“Actually, I really think it does.”

They scrubbed a hand down their face, sighed. “How so?”

“Say, what if—” he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and lifted his shoulders in a shrug “—I had, hypothetically speaking, ignored your final order, made a breezy lil detour, and used Exit Strategy A instead of B?

“And what if,” he continued, “I had, hypothetically speaking, grabbed a couple souvenirs along the way?” He gave them a sheepish look as he pulled his hands back out of his pocket, producing two messy piles of tangled jewellery and trinkets that he placed on the table between them. “Because, confession time: I did.”

And there it was, amidst all the precious metals and all the valuable stones, their target – the ancient, allegedly cursed, Amulet of the Mothers’ Sorrow.

All they managed was a choked, breathless laugh. Their head swam with so many questions and yet they couldn’t seem to locate enough words to form a single sentence.

The newbie began answering the most pressing of them – HOW!? – without prompting.

“Well. When I pulled that guard off of Tempest, I noticed that shiny keycard hanging right there on his belt, and … I nicked it. Just couldn’t help myself. Grabbed his communicator too. Also wanted to knock the guy out, but he got away.” He made a small disgruntled noise, followed by a snort. “But then the idiot ran down Corridor 14. Like, I don’t think he was even familiar with the museum’s layout.

“Anyway, I figured I’d have at least 4 minutes before he’d find the next phone or reach another guard. And even if he found a panic button, security would still have to regroup first. And with access to the staff elevator … reaching Gallery 5 would take me, maybe, 2 minutes at best. And there I’d already be in the perfect position to use Exit Strategy A.

“Long story short: I know a worthwhile opportunity when I see it. Of course—” and here his voice gained an unmistakable edge “—I hadn’t been told what exactly I was supposed to steal. So I had no choice but to stuff whatever I thought were the most likely candidates into my pockets, hit or miss, and make a run for it.”

He made a vague gesture encompassing his loot.

“Did I get the right one?”

“I—” They cleared their throat and reached for the dark amulet – a filigreed pattern, seemingly liquid, a mercury river delta, against a background of polished onyx – on a necklace with a rich green cord woven through a silver chain, and untangled it from the other treasures. It was so pleasantly warm still from when he’d carried it in his pocket, on his person. His body heat seeping into the palm of their hands as they cradled the amulet to their chest.

They could have cried. Or kissed him.

“Yeah,” they said, barely above a whisper.

“Well then,” he offered, amiably, “lucky you. And maybe next time just tell the rest of us what it is we’re going after.” A grin tugged on their new favourite teammate’s lips. “Merry Christmas.”

The newbie took a bow, turned with an exaggerated flourish, and, humming a festive tune, strolled off towards the exit.

They stared after him, transfixed.

On the doorstep, with the door already opened, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“By the way,” he said, “you got it wrong. Supervillain’s cool all right. But it isn’t her I’m eager to work with.”

~~~

Epilogue: New Christmas Traditions

“How’s the plan for this year’s Christmas operation coming along, darling?”

Their partner came up behind them, slung his arms over the back of their office chair and around their shoulders, and let his upper body go slack. As he nuzzled against the crook of their neck, he leaned on them like a particularly heavy but not at all uncomfortable scarf.

“Almost done.” They scanned the markings they’d made on the map covering half their desk. “I know how to get us inside. Currently working on how to get us out afterwards.”

“My criminal mastermind. Always gotta have at least 3 escape routes.” Their partner chuckled, somewhere between fond and mischievous, and started walking his fingers slowly down their chest.

“I prefer ‘exit strategies,’” they said, and caught him by the wrists before he got the chance to fully launch his tickle attack. “The word ‘escape’ implies opposition or pursuit. Ideally – assuming a certain someone’s antics don’t negatively affect the quality of my work – we’ll encounter neither.” Nevertheless, they turned their full attention to him now. “But should something ever not go according to plan,” they murmured into his hair, “I know I can always rely on my partner’s quick wit and nerves of steel.”

He pressed a kiss below their ear. “Damn right. Those heroes will never catch us.”

“Partners in crime.”

“Partners in crime.”

They shared a hearty laugh and a few seconds of tranquillity.

Then they gestured towards a booklet half-hidden beneath a stack of documents. The catalogue of the current target’s exhibits. “Have you had a chance to compile your wish list yet?”

“Nah,” their partner said, “I think I’d like it to be a surprise. I’ll know which ones I want when I see them. You?”

“I have picked a few favourites.”

“Perfect,” he purred. “You can tell me all about them over dinner. I made lasagna.”

“Perfect,” they echoed.

And that he was indeed: absolutely perfect.