#but she still knows better than to fuck around in them

[shotmrmiller]

the possibilities for bullying a girl into an inescapable marriage are endless … soap finding a girl from a catholic family, getting her into bed, then ‘accidentally’ letting it slip to her family and nodding along when her mother is like ‘you have to marry him it’s the only way to save yourself from sin’

price in vegas getting blackout drunk with some sweet thin he met at the casino bar, and both of them waking up in the morning with rings. so what if price wasn’t really that drunk? reader doesn’t need to know that.

ghost who convinces you to marry him for the benefits so he gets better housing and you get his health insurance. you think it’s purely transactional, so imagine your surprise when he starts expecting you to perform your other spousal duties and threatens to kill the guy you were gonna go on a date with.

gaz who agrees to be your fake boyfriend for a family dinner, so you don’t have to suffer through another round of ‘what do you mean you’re still single? when am i getting grandbabies?’ only to realize your mistake too late when you catch him in the kitchen with your mother, promising her she’s getting grandbabies soon.

soap's just looking at her mom like he hadn't a clue that it was that serious for "catholics" and he'll do right by them both and take her hand in marriage as if he doesn't have a crucifix around his neck that gleams against coarse hair and pale scars. as if he doesn't remember his ma giving him sharp twists to the ear because he'd made them late for sunday mass again. ofc not. and if he knows certain prayers, he'd learned for his future wife. obviously.

price is def the type to befriend the loud, drunken girl on vacation in some party city he'd just finished a job in. buys her drink after drink because she'd said she can hold her own. unsurprisingly, she was all talk no walk. she calls him handsome once, threads her fingers into his greying hair and his first stop is the nearest jewelry store. he doesn't touch the new mrs. price as she sleeps off the alcohol, he wants her awake for what he's got planned. (ghost ofc hears of his new wife and sends him a congrats text)

ghost gets signed up on tinder by soap against his knowledge will and when soap matches him with some girl only looking for fun, simon decides he's gonna give her more than that and if she's the type to try to kick him out the morning after, he's calling price to forge her signature onto a marriage certificate. (price eventually meets her and he's just like "shouldntve fed him, love. should've known he wouldn't leave." rip a girl just tryna have some sex)

kyle tells her that he needs a gf for the weekend because there's a wedding, soaps wedding actually, and she agrees. (every time she corrects him to his plus one he simply repeats himself.) he immediately goes back on his promise, "i won't even touch ya," cuz his hand is constantly roaming south, he sits her on his lap whether she wants it or not, and during the slow dancing he's prying her mouth open with his for, "just one kiss." if he fucks her in the groom's dressing room during the dinner, no he didn't. (he needs his hands on her, no one believes that they're dating:(

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[kismetlotts]

cw: sexual content

Colleague Simon Riley who you banter with all the time. You weren’t scared of him or intimidated by him like everyone else and he found that different; intriguing. You’d seen him kill people so effortlessly, watched him make decisions that would keep people up all night but nothing put you off. There was something there on your end that drew you in- he had no clue what it was until one morning Johnny decided to enlighten him.

“Aye Ghost has everyone tinklin’eir pants’!” He’d laughed, the two of them were walking towards a helicopter preparing for their mission together, his hand pushing Ghosts shoulder trying to get something out the man but failing as usual. Johnny can talk for days, meaningless rambling, life stories, ranting, joking- god the guy doesn’t shut up. He was nearly as bad as you and in his head he was sure you two were distantly related. Two of the most annoying people being two of the most closest people to him.

“Aside from bonnie, eh’ she’s wet for other reasons.” He’d chuckle out, arm still bumping into his shoulder while he laughs loudly, but Simon froze. His whole body hot and stomach swirling surely he must’ve heard wrong. Even if he heard right, it’s Mactavish. He’s not exactly great at reading people more so knowing something like that.

“What?” Simon asked his voice dark and gruffly. Johnnys eyes met his and his cheeky smile fell of his face. Eyes scanning Ghosts for a moment before stopping in shock, mouth open slightly.

“Ya didn’t know? You ave’ her wrapped round your finger! Don’ try mess with me every’ne knows it’s obvious- she’s even gon’ told me tha’.” And Simon just felt lost. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d never really been with a woman or exactly cared to, his life was hectic as a youngster and being in the SAS it’s not often he engages or talks to a woman other than yourself. He didn’t see you in a romantic aspect: he’d never really thought of it. You’d always just been you to him, the girl who annoys him, he’d never thought about being with you. Or maybe you were just attracted to him, maybe you just wanted to fuck him- He didn’t know. He didn’t know much about feelings.

“She said herself that she gets wet over me?” He asked again just to be clear. His way with words were cut to the point and open, hearing Simon say ‘gets wet’ so fast and easily was enough to make Johnny cringe internally but he nodded. He told Simon about that night- what you had said, what you wanted. He went over everything thag happened while you two were hanging out. You and Johnny were kind of close and as much as Johnny talks, he didn’t take the Scott man for a liar. Simon spun around on the spot, telling Johnny to continue on with the mission and take another recruit before heading for the offices, catching a glimpse of you sorting through papers.

He slipped into the room quietly, walking up behind you as you spun around reaching for something. Jumping as he looked down at you, silently.

“- Oh my fuck! Simon! You scared me you idiot.” Your heart pretty much jumping out of your chest as you huffed. You’d already been so stressed out with all this paperwork given to you- this wasn’t even your job but of course you’d help out where needed. Simon just looked down at you more, eyes squinting below his skull mask as he looked over you. You shot him a glance, then another one, then another one until you were about to ask what his problem was but Simon spoke first.

“Do I make you wet?”

“….Sorry?”

“Do I make you wet? Like horny?” You were fucking gobsmacked and you knew exactly what had happened and you swore to god were going to fucking murder that mohawk wearing, secret sharing dickhead. And Simon was no better, how can someone just go up to you and ask you that? Your back ran cold and your face burnt hot- words coming out in a jumbled mess.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And instead of talking he took a step forward, cornering you in and making you step back. Not realising what was happening yourself until you were against the wall, looking up at him with them eyes. So wide and innocent, shining in the light, but fabricated with a need. A desire.

Everything in your vision blurred beside Simon, it was like you were back in bed. Lost in your dream world, slipping your hand into your panties, circling your clit imagining he was in bed with you. Imagining you him so close to you. Your pussy throbbed and you could feel the wetness of your panties already, still looking up at him as you blinked. Simon saw it now, the look in your eyes- it really was obvious. His eyes dropped down your body and back up at your eyes as he took a step back himself in disbelief.

“Fucking ‘ell, I do don’t I?” And what could you say? Lie? That would make the situation bigger than it needed to be with either you being found out as a liar or Johnny. You couldn’t admit it could you? I mean the two of you were close but he was still your Lieutenant. You could be in a lot of trouble- fuck if he wanted, you could probably lose your job. A sigh left your lips as you wracked your head for ideas. Excuses, explanations- but you had to be honest with him, it was the only way.

“Look! It’s not like romantic- I’m not like into you like that at all. I just- Okay I just find you attractive. It’s like if you were looking at some hot naked woman, you’d get hard wouldn’t you? I cant help what my body does!” Simon stood still, staring at your legs which only added to the moment. Only added to the aching need you felt

“I’m not naked. I ain’ sexy and I wear a mask for a living ‘nd kill people, you find that attractive, do ya?” Yes. You did and you didn’t know why yourself. You knew what he meant by it and he knew you didn’t find killing people attractive so instead of getting defensive you stayed quiet. You found him attractive, his voice, his height and the mask added to your intrigue. He watched as you remained quiet taking a deep breath and tilting his head to the side.

“So you want to fuck?” His voiced asked slightly deeper and you let out a laugh, back still pressed against the wall as he moved in closer.

“Jesus Christ Simon you cant just ask someone that-“ His hands met your body as he began to trace the fabric of your clothes, running his fingers over your skin slowly because he was starting to see something in you. Something sexual and he fucking liked it. He licked his lips underneath his mask, smirking as he locked eyes with you again.

“Just take my chances then?”

[dollarbils]

i like you better with me | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. billie’s tired of chasing you to break up with him. what happens when you do, but struggle to regain her trust?

warnings. smut, angst, mean billie lowk, hella teasing, strap 🙈

part 1, part 2

your desperate. pathetically desperate. she’s been dodging your calls for days. you’d do anything to get her back which is what prompted the hasty drive to her house. the knock on her door was surely quieter than the continuous thump of your heart.

“billie!” you called, noticing the kitchen window was open so she could hear you. after a long pause, the door opened. but it wasn’t an invitation to come inside.

“what?” she asked, seeming unsurprised at your surprise turn-up.

“can we please talk?” you pleaded and she hesitated opening the door wider, for you to come in. she hesitated forgiving you without an apology like she’d done so many times.

“it depends. are you here to apologise?” you furrowed your brows, confused.

“for what?” she widened her eyes at you, as if you were stupid, and shut the door in your face. you knocked on it incessantly for the next thirty seconds before she gave in and opened it again.

“would you stop that?” she huffed, you could tell she was tired of your shit. it made you feel awful, and revealed all the reasons you should be here to apologise.

“I’m so sorry bils, genuinely. please let me in so that we can talk.” you were a rejection away from getting on your knees.

“i don’t wanna talk.” she said childishly, but however waiting for a response instead of shutting the door again.

“please give me another chance, i really need you to hear what i have to say.” it took her a while, but she was as weak as you. and she opened the door, letting you into her house, but back into her heart as-well.

“well?” she shut the door and perched herself up on the back of her couch.

“i miss you billie, and i’m so sorry.”

“are you now? because i’ve heard that before.” she wasn’t taking you seriously and she had every right not to but it was frustrating.

“come on billie, you know i still love you, i told you. i want to be with you. properly. we didn’t do it right last time. give us a chance to do it right.” you approached her, her position meaning she was a few inches beneath you. her eyes were wide and behind them, her head was spinning with contradictory thoughts. you looked at her in adoration and she folded.

“i fall for this shit every time.” she reached for your face and brought your lips to hers in a soft kiss. it wasn’t what you expected but when she smiled into the kiss, a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“ask me the question.” she stood up as you spoke, pulling you into her arms. she smiled, knowing exactly what you meant.

“did you break up with him?” her words were a whisper on your lips. a silent promise you made to her that you’d failed to keep for too long. she held her breath as you spoke, drowning in anticipation.

“yes.” her smile slowly began to widen, chuckles coming out because she couldn’t believe it. her lips leaped onto yours, this time more passionate, more desperate.

“for you.” you added in between kisses and she groaned into your mouth, it was sweet. so sweet, but you couldn’t help but want more.

“mm, you taste so good baby.” she commented when she pulled her tongue out of your mouth, licking your swollen lips.

“need you so bad.” you whined into her ear as her mouth did unholy things to your neck. she pulled you harder against her waist, wanting you to feel her. you quickly became aware of what was underneath her jeans and it made you tingle.

“been waiting to fuck you properly for so long.” she kept her mouth on the skin of your jaw while she spoke, devouring the taste of your skin.

“finally can,” she blabbed on, “my girl.” her words made you grow more desperate for her, feeling the ache in your heat. it’d been present for days.

“billie.” you repeated her name every time she sucked your skin, snaking her arms around your lower body, caressing your ass.

“i like you better with me.”

“me too.” you confirmed when her hand came to the back of your neck, providing warmth and comfort.

“mh, you like the sex.” she chuckled on your skin. and you grabbed her face bringing it up to yours before speaking.

“so do you.” she tilted her head looking upwards in animation of thought. “only with you though.” you added.

“i see what you’re doing, it’s too late to act cute.” she took your bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down softly. she pushed her hips into yours again, reminding you of her position. you couldn’t stifle the groan it caused. you were pulled into her bedroom as she removed your shirt. her hands were never in the same place as she let herself discover your body all over again. she leaned on you, the strap beneath her jeans digging into your heat. you were whining for her to do something other than kiss you.

“patience baby.” she smiled kissing your face.

“you always say that shit.” you whined when she made no move to satisfy you. you rolled your hips back and forth on her clothed dick and she laughed on your skin, her teeth grazing sensitive places. she let it happen for a while before gripping your hips to stop them from moving. she slid your sweatpants off, along with your underwear. she was painfully slow with it too.

“please billie.” she kissed across her stomach, finding every last bit of skin she hadn’t touched yet, before finally moving lower. her breath was on your heat, her lips inches from your clit. she made an effort to blow softly as she watched you squirm and clench on nothing. your whines were getting louder as she still refused to touch you where you needed her. she was so turned on watching you writhe at nothing but her breath. she moved away completely and came back up to your face.

“you’re gonna look so pretty sitting on me.” she whispered seductively before pulling you close to her and flipping you over, having you straddle her. she spread her legs so that you could feel her through her jeans.

“you’re making a mess on my jeans baby, are you gonna take them off?” you looked at her hesitantly, before pulling them off quickly. your eyes widened at the size of her and she smirked.

“can you take it?” she asked, watching your eyes wander the strap. “baby?” she called for you again and you nodded.

“what are you waiting for? do you need me to do everything?” she teased before you gathered the courage to line her up with your entrance. she watched your face as you sunk down on her, the strap disappearing slowly. you got half way before you stopped and she raised her eyebrows.

“i thought you said you could take it? is it too much?” she said in a condescending voice, it made you flush in embarrassment.

“no.” your voice was reduced to merely a breath, her affect on you evident in your expression.

“then take it.” she pulled your hips down onto her as your vision became blurry and your head started spinning. you’d never felt this full. the weight of your body pressed down on her perfectly as she groaned. you felt incapable of moving your own hips.

“move or i’ll do it for you.” she threatened as you looked at her.

“i thought you wanted me to be patient.” you replied, a slight rasp in your voice, and her mouth was agape, in shock of your clap back, as she rolled her tongue across the inside of her cheek. she showed off her strength as she lifted her hips until you were fully off of her. she ignored the fact you were wincing and whining before she pushed you back down on her strap, filling you up again without any warning. the moan that left you was guttural and she bit her lip as she heard it.

“fuck, billie.” a few tears spilled free from your eyes as she rolled your hips back and forth.

“you look so pretty crying on my dick. i like you a lot better with me.” her words were a ruse for what was to come. and the sweet undertone wasn’t about to fool you.

[fuctacles]

Just like Cinderella

happy bday to my Prince Charming @blasvemous M | 3.3k | crack treated seriously, meet cuteugly something, idiot4idiot, humiliation kink mentioned | Ao3

"Shit, fuck!" Steve lets himself have one last glance at his wristwatch, and of course, it instantly proves to be a mistake. 

He runs straight into someone's back, and it punches all the air out of his lungs. He's stunned for a second, and can barely hear a rushed apology. He thinks he mutters back 'No, it was my fault', and by the time he blinks back into reality and crouches to pick up his bag, the guy is gone. 

But not all of him. 

On the pavement, right under his bag, he finds a... something.

It's made of metal and intricate, and not his. He picks it up and straightens up quickly, in hopes of seeing the guy he ran into. There are a lot of people rushing about, though.

"Hey!" He picks up his pace again, hoping to spot the person he ran into. He remembers long hair and a mix of citrusy shampoo and cigarette smell. Not much else. Nobody turns their head as he runs through the morning crowd, so he stuffs the item deep into his bag and focuses on the initial goal of rushing to work. He can worry about this all later. 

On his break, he takes the thing out of his bag to take a better look. It looks well-made and could be expensive, but he has no idea what it could be. It reminds him of old egg beaters, but he doubts that's what it is. Maybe a toy? One of these educational puzzles for nerds, like a Rubik's cube? Or! It could be a replica of some sci-fi movie gadget. Like the sonic screwdriver that Dustin made.

He probably should just ask around. 

His usual go-to, the self-titled oracle and part-time scholar Robin Buckley, had no better ideas than him. She turned the thing in her fingers, cradling it delicately like an eggshell, while humming and hemming. 

"Looks like a tiny brace. Maybe for a york's paw? The guy could be a vet," she offers. 

"Maybe," Steve nods, not convinced at all. He doesn't want to think about a little dog with a broken paw somewhere out there, its bones unprotected. "I was thinking it could be a kitchen utensil?"

Robin puts it on the desk between them and stares at it intently. 

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, embarrassed to share his idea. "Like an egg beater?"

Robin continues her loud thinking but in the end, leaves him with nothing. 

The thing weighs him down on his daily commute, waiting in the bottom of his bag for the day he finds its owner. Steve isn't even sure if he would recognize him. Them? After a week he wasn't even sure it was a guy. 

The workload doesn't give him a break either, and once Friday finally arrives, he makes a detour on his route home to grab a drink or two. After his first drink, he checks for any loose change he could put in the tip jar and his hand finds the Thing. He pulls it out with a sigh and puts on the bartop with a small clunk. As he reaches out to put what he's found in the jar, he hears a very concerning and loud choking sound. 

To his right, a long-haired guy is wheezing his lungs out, fist-punching his own sternum. Steve immediately leans over the empty stool between them and starts smacking his back to help.

"Jesus, you alright? Went down the wrong pipe?" He looks around the man, but all he sees is a glass of beer, so hopefully he didn't get a peanut lodged in his windpipe. 

The man lets out a really gross phlegmy cough, clears his throat, and takes a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he wheezes out. "Just, uh, you know. Didn't expect to just turn around and see, uh, that." He spares a tiny glance at the Thing in front of Steve. 

Steve immediately brightens up, hoping to finally get an answer to his predicament. He swiftly moves to the empty seat, drink and Thing sliding along the bar with him. He sees the man wince while he's still facing forward like he's afraid to take a proper look. He takes a drink of his beer, this time slow and cautious, and Steve can see the redness spreading from his cheeks down his throat.

"You know what it is?" Steve asks hopefully, leaning closer to him. 

The man freezes, and maybe it wasn't in his best manners to just sit down next to someone without asking, but it's already happened and Steve is kind of desperate. 

He gulps down the beer, no accidents this time, but his voice is still strained, when he asks incredulously:

"You don't?! No, you know, that actually explains it. Take them damn thing off the bar for the love of Merlin."

Steve, while taken aback by the sudden shift and being ordered around by a stranger, stuffs the Thing away from peering eyes. 

"Why? What is it? Something illegal?" Fuck, why didn't he think about that? 

But the man is shaking his head.

"No, but I'm pretty sure the bartender wouldn't appreciate it."

"What is it?" Steve presses on.

The guy finally turns to him and Steve can see him in all his glory. Black leather, long hair, and a pair of truly soft brown eyes that don't match his overall vibe at all. And they stare right at him like they are trying to look straight into his soul. He's searching for something for a long, drawn-out moment, before he deflates, eyes skirting away, but he keeps facing Steve. 

"Really?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a fucking cock cage, man."

"A fucking cock what?" Steve asks once he gets his voice back.

"You heard me. I'm not repeating myself," he says with a scoff, eyes falling to Steve's bag. His knee starts jumping up and down restlessly. "Where did you find it?"

But Steve had questions of his own.

"Is it like, a medical thing?" he asks. 

The looks he gets back would make him believe an alien just popped out of his forehead and started dancing Macarena. He frowns defensively.

"What? I've never seen something like this!" 

"It's a sex thing," the man responds mercifully, watching him closely. 

Now it's Steve's turn to gauge his eyes at the man. He looks briefly down at his bag like the thing could just grow tentacles and have its way with him. 

"How? Why?" he asks, mouth twisting at the images flashing in his mind. "How do you know that?"

The knee never stops jumping. If anything, it becomes more erratic. 

"Uh, I know guys who are into it." The man looks away again. 

Steve rolls his eyes. Sure. He knows a guy.

"So since you know some guys," he plays along. "Maybe they know more guys and they could ask around if anyone has lost one of these?" he suggests. "Now I want it off my hands even more."

The man scoffs, almost amused. 

"Could imagine. I could take it from you and just hand it over to them, make things easier for you," he offers, glances at him, and then shrugs.

Steve recoils at the idea.

"That? No, It's my fault the guy lost it, I wasn't looking and ran into him. I need to make sure it goes back to the right hands."

The man hums, drumming his fingers against the bar. 

"I want to be there when you ask random people if they are missing their cock cage."

Steve presses his lips together. 

"Stop saying that."

"What?" He tilts his head, looking amused. "Cock cage? Like the cock cage you have in your bag?"

"Yes. That."

He raises his hands placatingly. 

"All I'm saying is I would be embarrassed as fuck if I was the idiot who lost it. Would be hard to come forward and admit it," he says, raising his shoulders. 

Steve huffs, slumping against the bar.

"Fuck, you're right."

"I know," the man murmurs back and they quietly sip their drinks. 

"There must be places where it isn't that weird to admit it," Steve thinks out loud. He looks to his bar companion for confirmation but he's frowning at the liquor display in front of him, lost in thoughts. Steve hopes they aren't about him. The guy had a good profile and a cute nose.

"Hey." He nudges him gently with an elbow. 

"Hm?" The man turns, his frown melting away so he can raise his eyebrows curiously.

"Do you know any fetish places where I could leave a poster or something?"

The man only stares at him blankly. 

"You're gonna make posters," he states more than he asks.

"If I have to." Steve shrugs. 

"You sure you don't want me to just take it off you?"

"Nope."

"We could exchange numbers and I'll let you know when I find the owner."

Steve thinks about that. 

"You could lie, though," he points out. 

He huffs, annoyed. 

"I totally absolutely could," he agrees with a resigned nod like using logic pains him. Then, he sighs. "I could buy it off you?" he finally offers. 

Steve's taken aback.

"Why do you want it so badly?" He frowns at him.

"I just want to do you a favor, man!" He rolls his eyes. He's almost angry and 100% done with this conversation, it seems, as he downs the rest of his drink and slides off the barstool. 

"Tomorrow at ten, in front of the bookstore on John Paul. Bring your silly posters and I'll show you some kink shops and bars."

Steve blinks at him.

"That okay?" the man asks, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. 

Hesitantly, Steve nods. 

"I guess that's my best shot. Thanks, man."

The guy nods.

"Don't mention it."

Then he turns and leaves, hands buried deep into his pockets, and Steve realizes he hasn't even asked for his name. 

He regrets not taking the guy on his offer to take the thing off him when he had the chance. Because he wouldn't be stuttering his way through explanations while his temporary companion revels in his embarrassment like it's the gods' nectar. 

At least now he knows his name is Eddie. 

Eddie pretends to be interested in the little display of nipple rings while Steve tries to convince the shop owner to hang his little poster saying "fetish gear found". The man finally yields, as do two others, thus concluding the number of sex shops in the area. 

"The bars don't open until late but we can try the Hangover before we part."

"What's that?" Steve asks, following Eddie anyway.

"Also a bar, but they serve hangover food around noon. They have the best bacon and won't tell me where they buy it from." He frowns like it's some personal feud. 

"Perfect. I can buy you lunch for helping me." Steve grins at him.

Eddie seems surprised at first but then smiles widely. 

"I won't say no to free food. This way, my good man!"

The place is a hole in the wall but really cozy. It seems like the same guy who took their order is cooking it and there's only one other person, with a coffee refill in front of them and a plate of... something unrecognizable under every possible sweet topping. 

"I gotta show this place to Robin, she'll love it," Steve comments while looking around. The inside looks like It was never fully finished or whatever purpose it served previously didn't require it. The walls are rough bricks, the windows old and probably drafty, and the only part of the floor that isn't rough cement is the dancefloor. 

But the collection of LED signs, mismatched couches, and a sunflower mural softened the rough interior. Steve will definitely come here again.

They get their own jug of coffee and Eddie pours for both of them.

"Girlfriend?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve rolls his eyes in a very tired way and Eddie almost chokes on his surprised laugh. 

"Geez okay, not a girlfriend then."

Steve chuckles dryly. 

"Nope, just my best friend. We play for different teams."

Eddie eyes him curiously but he doesn't elaborate on that. He clears his throat. 

"Well, in that case, I should tell you that all the places I've shown you today are queer-friendly."

"This included." The chef must have heard that last sentence. He places their food on the counter. "There you go, little gays, bone apéritif."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Eddie murmurs, immediately snatching a piece of bacon off his hash browns. 

"It is how it goes if you want more free coffee," says the chef as he turns around. 

"Your French is immaculate, Benjamine!" 

Steve makes an ugly snort at Eddie's terrible French accent. The man seems to be very proud of his little theatrics.

For a moment it's just the sound of forks against plates and the distant radio playing in the kitchen. Eddie finishes first, almost inhaling his food like he's a human vacuum, and pours himself more coffee. 

"You wanna go to the bars too? Later?"

Steve chews on his bite thoughtfully. 

"I think if you give me the addresses I'll be good to go on my own. You've already done so much, man."

Eddie is stunned into silence. This is not the answer he wanted. He licks his rapidly drying lips, looking for a good excuse to keep tagging along. 

"Uh, are you sure?" 

"Yeah, don't worry about it. You've wasted so much time on me today. I don't want to completely ruin your weekend." Steve smiles at him. 

"It's not a problem, really—"

"No, man, I wouldn't feel okay dragging you around." Steve shakes his head. 

"First of all, I'm dragging you around," Eddie huffs. "Second of all, it's the first time a man this pretty spent so much time with me and hasn't run for the hills. Let me have this."

Steve frowns at that information.

"You must have shit luck with men." 

"Tell me about it," Eddie murmurs into his coffee. 

"So it would be a date?" 

Eddie turns to him, eyes wide. But Steve holds his gaze.

"I mean, it would be nice." Eddie tugs on his hair nervously. "We can do the posters thing and then just have fun for the rest of the night, no?" he offers. 

"Absolutely." Steve smiles reassuringly. 

"Awesome." Eddie grins.

Steve spends hours figuring out his outfit. It's his first official date with a man, he has to look good. He therefore makes the mistake of calling his best friend. He nods along as she tells him what exactly to put on (How she has memorized his wardrobe is a question he doesn't want answered.) and then clears his throat when she takes a breath. 

"What if I don't want to attract women?"

There's a pause and then—

"My my, Steven, finally going for it?"

"You could say that."

"Where are you going? A bar? What's the vibe?"

He sighs. 

'We're kind of bar hopping, he's showing me around the area."

"Back up, back up!" she yells in his ear. "We?! You're not just going out? You have a date?"

"Yeah," Steve more breathes than says. He has a date. It's slowly dawning on him.

"Who is he?" Robin asks impatiently and he can easily imagine her curling up in her armchair for gossip. 

"His name is Eddie—"

"Okay, sounds normal."

"—he has this long, wild hair, and tattoos—"

"Okay, less normal."

"—but he is normal. A bit awkward, kind of dorky, not at all how you'd expect a guy in a leather jacket to be."

"Huh. Okay, maybe I won't find you in a ditch somewhere. I want a call when you get back, no later than tomorrow morning. At noon, I'm calling the police."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. 

"Of course, Robbie. But can we focus on the matter at hand?"

In the end, he goes the Freddie Mercury route, with a tank top that shows off his chest hair, and tight jeans. He throws a colorful shirt over it to fight off the night chill. Eddie looks pretty much the same as earlier, though his band t-shirt looks a bit tighter. 

"Steve," he sighs instead of a proper greeting and Steve's face falls. He looks down at himself. 

"What? Is it that bad?"

"Darling, you're gonna get eaten alive. How am I supposed to fight off all of the bargoers?"

Steve laughs in surprise, feeling himself blush.

"I guess you'll just have to hold on to me."

Eddie's eyes sparkle under the setting sun. 

"Don't have to tell me twice," he says, pulling Steve inside their first location. "I saved my favorite place for last. But we can stay wherever you feel like."

Eddie stays true to his word, parading Steve around like an arm candy, their elbows hooked together. Only on their second bar does he realize something is amiss. 

"You didn't bring your posters?" he asks curiously, cocking his head. 

Steve hums next to him, sipping on the colorful drink the bartender recommended.

"Do I need them?"

Eddie's visibly taken aback by the question. He frowns at Steve. 

"Didn't you want to find the owner?"

Steve nods, unfazed. 

"Yeah, and I did."

Eddie's face blanches. He opens his mouth before closing it abruptly, his frown deepening. 

"What? When?" he asks, barely containing his panic and immensely confused. 

"Earlier today." Steve shrugs. "Haven't given it back yet, though."

"Oh, thank gods." Eddie visibly deflates. Steve raises his eyebrows at that, so he rushes to add: "It's great that you found him so fast." He forces out a smile. "Who is it? Did he know what it was?" The poster was purposefully vague so the person calling in would have to say what they'd lost. 

Steve shakes his head, raising the drink to his lips to prolong the suspense just a bit more. 

"It's you."

Eddie's brain short circuits. He's stunned for too long for his forced laugh to work. 

"Hahah, what?" 

Steve smiles at him and since he's feeling extra merciless tonight, reaches out for the man's neck. Eddie looks close to fainting but Steve doesn't relent and rubs a thumb across his jugular, observing him shiver before he pulls him in by his nape. He leans in to press his nose to Eddie's skin, fingers digging into the roots of his hair, where lingers the smell of his shampoo. Artificial lemon and cigarettes. He must have taken a shower before going out. 

"You smell just like the guy I ran into that day," Steve explains close to his skin as he traces it with the tip of his nose. Slowly, he moves away. He's a bit worried he moved too fast, but Eddie's cheeks are red and his eyes are fixed on his mouth, so he relaxes back into his seat. "And if I had any doubts, your reaction just now dispelled them all," he finishes with a smirk. 

Eddie groans, hiding in his hands.

"This is the most embarrassing date in my life and once I wore my shirt inside out."

Steve laughs but reaches out to put his hand on Eddie's knee to weaken the blow. 

"Don't worry, it's working on me."

Eddie pushes his fingers apart to peek at him. 

"Really?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Steve nods. "I hope it works out, preferably long enough so I can tell about our first meeting at the engagement party." His smile turns wide and teasing. "We'll put Cinderella to shame."

Eddie groans, but it sounds more pained this time. 

"Careful," he says heatedly. "My humiliation kink is flaring up," he says, aiming for humor, but something new wakes up in Steve and he cocks his head with a fake pout.

"Poor baby. You wanna go hide your shame somewhere more private?"

Eddie presses his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose. 

"Can we?"

Steve finishes quickly his drink and slides off his bar stool. He feels the pleasant buzz of alcohol and Eddie Eddie Eddie. He leans in for a quick, impulsive peck against his pink lips.

"Of course." He grins. "Let's go."

[seijorhi]

haikyuu ice hockey just ignited something in me (probably bc ice hockey is the only sport i actually understand)

but it offers so much room for yandere v yandere drama. like, you're actually allowed to FIGHT in hockey (well, not allowed, but it's generally considered to be part of the sport.)

idk, it amuses me to think of a yandere player(cough oikawa cough) who's so insanely devoted to his sport, almost ruin his career by cracking the jaw of a player from another team who his darling started fucking/dating.

like she very unexpectedly dumped him right before the season started (when he didn't have the time or focus to spare to get her back) bc he was being weird and posessive, and it just gets harder and harder to watch the gossip tabloids and sports magazines spread rumors about his ex girlfriend finding new love. of course he was gonna crack.

(bonus points if he knows this other player (maybe they were on the same team growing up) and the other player is half getting with yn to piss the yandere off)

sorry for the ramble! i love your work!

ooh see i can definitely roll with ice hockey captain oikawa's girlfriend getting so sick of his jealous, possessive bullshit that she dumps him.

there's no denying he's irritated as fuck that you chose to wait until the new season starts, but he's not going into panic mode or anything. it's fine.

you can go a few dates, have your fun. oikawa's pretty sure those assholes won't be sticking around long after he brings some of his teammates along to have a nice, friendly chat with them–

(they don't have to know that he won't actually follow through on those threats to beat their faces in. probably)

–just give him a few weeks to settle into the season.

—

this wasn't technically a part of the plan.

there wasn't even a plan, until the guy you'd spend a good two drinks flirting with suddenly realised why you looked familiar, and all but high-tailed it out of there like the devil himself was at his heels.

it hasn't helped matters that your annoyingly persistent ex keeps sending you flowers – at work, at home, day after day, just so everyone in your life knows that broken up or not, oikawa still considers you his.

bullshit. it's such bullshit.

you suppose you can't blame some random guy for not wanting to get on the bad side of an ice hockey champ.

it's then, somewhere around the bottom of your third drink of the night, that the solution to your problems occurs to you.

sure, a normal, average guy might be intimidated by your ex, but you know plenty of players who'd jump at the chance. not necessarily to fuck you (you're not looking for an honest to god relationship here), but to fuck with oikawa? an opportnity to put a crack into that asshole's attitude? oh yeah.

there's a few players oikawa hates more than the shirtless blond currently draped over your shoulder, snapping what is very clearly a post-fuck selfie of the two of you to upload to his millions of followers. admittedly, kageyama probably would've worked better, if the thought of using him like that – even with his knowledge and explicit agreement – didn't leave you feeling strangely dirty, and ushijima... just no. god, you're not sure you'd even be able to get the words out, much less hold your nerve to wait for an answer.

but miya atsumu? the cocksure, arrogant as fuck (hot as hell), loudmouth winger who's got a special talent for pissing off his opponents? he'll do nicely.

—

he's gonna kill him.

oikawa's gonna fucking kill him. he'll take the penalty, take the loss, the suspension, whatever.

the moment that puck hits the ice, miya atsumu's fair game, and oikawa's going to beat his stupid, smug fucking face in.

[leiascully]

Can I request a smutty/angsty prompt? Mulder initiating more sex because he’s secretly having a bit of baby fever which opens a very serious (fight/?)conversation about having another kid. Set anytime after the truth

Here you go. 1500 angsty words; rated M for sexual situations. Trigger warnings for discussions of infertility, pregnancy, medical interventions, PTSD/trauma, etc.

They’re in South Dakota, maybe, in a small dingy motel room on the bad edge of town. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re together. They’re finally out of the car and she’s pushing her hands under the hem of his t-shirt and he’s unbuttoning her jeans and it hasn’t been that long since they made love (days? A week?) but she’s nipping at him like she wants to devour him. Time loses its meaning on the road, and so does space. But they’re here, both of them, and that’s all he cares about.

He kisses her breasts. They’re different than they were before: softer and lower, the shape of them changed. The breasts that nourished his son. He worships them with his mouth and his hands. She makes wanting little sighs and kisses his head. She’s quieter now than she used to be. Less free, maybe. In his apartment, she used to scream her pleasure. It’s not like the neighbors weren’t used to it.

Her nails prick at his skin. She’s grown them long, painted them red. He doesn’t like it much, but it does disguise her. And he likes the feeling of them scratching welts down his back. After everything, maybe he shouldn’t enjoy the pain, but it’s on his terms now.

He lays her out on the bed. The comforter is scratchy and thin under his belly as he wallows between her thighs. She moans and tangles her fingers in his hair. He’s grown it out. She brushes it tenderly off his forehead sometimes, but it’s better when she tugs at it like she’s doing now. He still can’t feel everywhere. Nerve damage from whatever happened to him. But the scratches, the prickling in his scalp, the slightly damp skin of her palm wrapped around his cock: he can feel those things.

She writhes under him, murmuring his name. He slides up her body. Her body is different too. Her belly is softer, rounder, striped with silver where their son stretched her skin.

He wants to have another baby with her. He wants to be there this time, to hold back her hair when she vomits and feel her belly swell under his splayed fingers. He wants to spill himself inside her. The urge is primal, nearly overpowering. His woman, splayed open under him. He loves her incandescently. He wants to fuck her through the cheap bed until her body goes limp with pleasurable exhaustion.

This urge to plow into her, to put his child inside her, terrifies him. The veneer of civilization is already rubbed thin by their transient life. They don’t need a baby with them in the car. But he wants to hear her call out his name, and he wants to lose himself in her body, and he wants to see the look on her face when she realizes they have been granted another miracle.

He prowls up her body to kiss her mouth. She licks the taste of herself from his tongue, greedy for his kisses. She’s in a wild mood. She sucks at his lip, lips at his nipple. He pushes two fingers into her, thumbs at her clit, makes her squirm under him. She gasps. He takes his cock in hand, rubs it between her folds. The slick head of it rests against her entrance. He can feel himself thick and heavy with need.

“Mulder, wait,” she says. “We need a condom.”

“I thought we could do without one,” he says, withdrawing just a little. His shaft slides against her clit and she arches into him automatically.

“I’m out of birth control,” she says. “We can’t.”

“I thought maybe,” he starts to say. “I thought we could try.”

“Try?” She looks up at him, puzzled, and then her eyes widen. She wriggles out from under him and sits on the bed, pulling her knees up and locking her arms around them. “Mulder, no. We can’t.”

“Why not?” He rolls onto his side. “I know it’s not the best idea.”

“Do you have any idea what I went through?” she asks. Her voice is quiet but it trembles. “Mulder, do you have any idea?”

“I know the birth wasn’t what you wanted,” he says, and trails off. Because the truth is that he doesn’t know. He wasn’t there. He knows she knows that. He was gone, and she suffered alone: not just the nausea but the fear. But he suffered too.

“I didn’t know if I would give birth to a child or a monster,” she says. “Was it a miracle, Mulder, or some strange experiment? I love him - I loved him - beyond all reason, but I still can’t answer that question. Every day, I was afraid. I was sick with it. Every minute I carried him in my body, I was afraid for his life and mine. And I was alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” he offers.

“How can you ask me this?” There are tears in her eyes. “How dare you ask me this now?”

“I thought….” He shakes his head in frustration. “It doesn’t matter.”

She’s crying now, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. One hand is pressed to her belly. The other still clutches her knees.

He rolls out of bed. The moment is gone. His cock is already drooping. He drags on his underwear and a pair of shorts, finds his t-shirt. His socks and sneakers were discarded on the floor in a more hopeful moment. He picks them up and puts them on again.

“Going for a run,” he says, as if it matters what he says, and then he’s out the door.

It’s hot. The air shimmers above the road, and there’s nowhere to run but the shoulder. He starts too fast, relishing the way the air burns in his lungs. He doesn’t have the stamina he used to, but fuck if he’s limping back early. She needs her space. So does he. There’s a chasm between them he’ll never be able to bridge with words. He might have done it with his body if he hadn’t been so rash.

It takes two. But his yearning doesn’t stack up against her avulsion. He remembers the toll the IVF took on her. She can’t learn that William’s conception can’t be replicated outside of a lab. He understands that. She can’t lie on her back with her legs up, stare at a pregnancy test that refuses to reveal the results she wants, track her cycle. He remembers the shots and the mood swings. He remembers the way disappointment crushed her. He remembers the way her back ached the last month of her pregnancy, how she couldn’t sleep.

But god, he wants a child. He wants a family, with her. He wants their child. William.

Leaving felt like erasing their tracks. It felt like starting over. For a moment, he let himself be overwhelmed with the potential of it. Now he plods down the road, legs heavy, and begins to understand the nerve he’s touched. He’s angry, and he’s aching, and he’s mourning the peace they might have known. But she’s aching too, and furious, and guilty, and ashamed.

There’s a hole in their hearts where their family might have been. He can’t fill it. Instead, he runs away, across the baking plains. He runs until he’s tired and then he turns around.

The door is unlocked when he gets back to the motel. Not safe, not their protocol, but he left the key with her. He’s sweaty and covered in dust. He stinks. He’s exhausted. The room is dark when he enters. He looks for her in the bed. She isn’t there. For a moment, panic shoots through him. But the car was in the parking lot - he leaned against it to stretch.

As his eyes adjust to the dim, he realizes she’s curled up in the armchair farthest from the door, her feet tucked up under her. Her lashes are stuck together from crying. Her sleep looks uneasy but deep. His heart breaks a little at the sight of her. It hurts, too, to know he hurt her, and it hurts to feel his own pain unacknowledged. But the ties that bind them have been snarled and knotted for years. He knows the bite of that rope as well as he knows his own heartbeat.

He slides the comforter from the bed and tucks it around her. She murmurs in her sleep but doesn’t stir. The air conditioner rattles and hisses. The air in the room is icy as the blood in his veins. He gazes down at her. She’s made herself so small. That’s his fault. That hurts. Another cut to add to his thousand. Death has already come for him and spit him back up. Now he’s a walking wound, and so is she. He forgets that sometimes, or tries to. It didn’t work this time.

She hasn’t woken by the time he’s finished his shower. He should go find them some dinner, but he’s weary to the bone. He slides into the lumpy bed alone and pulls the thin sheet over himself. It’s cold, but he’s been cold before. He knows the lonely chill of the grave. It’s unwelcome, but so familiar he’s almost comforted. The sheet is a shroud. The room closes them in, a coffin for two, suffocated by the once-fertile earth of their dreams.

[devil-in-hiding]

Got a LONG GhostPrice x reader fic for you 🫣

being married to Price and one day he asks if when he’s back from deployment he can bring his lieutenant back with him. Says he’s a real nice lad without any family of his own, he’s got nowhere to go home too after the mission. And of course you agree, how could you not? This man would (and has) killed to keep your husband safe, you owe him so much, of course you’ll let him stay over with you and John.

When they arrive, you welcome Simon with open arms. John watches happily as you take care of his lieutenant just as well you take care of him. You know how stressful deployment is for them so you’re than happy to cook warm meals for them, get them the snacks and beers they ask for, and make sure they’re as comfortable as they can be while they’re back.

Simon’s nervous around you at first. As much as John tells him he doesn’t need to be he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to take off his mask, worried you’ll judge his scars. But after the first few days he feel so much better. His stomachs full of warm food, you and John are keeping him entertained, and he’s so happy. So on the third day he finally comes down for breakfast without his mask on. Even though he’s so much more comfortable around you he still feels a bit nervous, but when you see him come down the stairs you’re so happy to see that he feels safe enough to share this part of himself with you. And when he sits down at the table his nerves are cured fully when you come up to give him a plate of bacon and eggs, and place a little kiss on his cheek right above one of his large scars. 

After the first week passes, and John sees how close you and Simon have gotten, he’s so happy. To see his lieutenant finally getting the love he’s long since deserved, and getting it from his wife no less, he couldn’t be more proud. You see how happy John is, so it’s really no surprise when he comes to you with a slightly… unusual request.

That evening, after you all finish the meal you prepared, you excuse yourself to go upstairs and let John and Simon talk.

“You’re lucky, nice bird like tha’, don’ think I’d ever be able to go on deploymen’ again if I were you” Simon grumbles while picking up his beer.

“Heh, yeah. She’s mighty fine isn’t she?” Price responds, to which Simon nods while taking a sip.

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” John asks, causing Simon to spit out his beer and choke, to which the older man lets out a small chuckle. “I mean it. She’s upstairs righ’ now gettin’ ready for ya.”

Simons mouth hangs open, and he’s completely at a loss for words.

“Course there is a little term to this arrangement,” John says with a smirk as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, eyeing his lieutenant up and down, “I get to watch the two of ya’.”

When Simon John finally ascend the stairs to get to the master bedroom, they’re greeted with the sight of reader wearing a dainty lacy two piece lingerie set, and a soft smile. She walks over to Simon, and gently takes his hand, pulling him towards the bed.

John plops down onto the armchair conveniently placed by the bed, and lights a cigar as he watches the show.

“If you change your mind just let me know, and we’ll stop.” She coos to Simon as she crawls onto the bed, laying her head on the pillow and spreading her thighs slightly as she beckons him forward with a finger, “I’m all yours tonight Si, what do you wanna do?” You ask him with a smirk.

-🫧

[possiblyreallyme]

Once a Beckman girl, always a Beckman girl

warning: very spicey/smutty but no actual penetration, toys (vibrator), size kink if you squint, big dick benn canon.

hello! i got this idea from one of my favorite one piece writer on tumbler, @innerfare!! everyone, go check them out!! thank you so much!!

"Come on, honey. Don't you wanna come back to my cabin?" Shanks asked drunkenly through his hiccups and wolfish grin, staggering over the countertop to hold onto the wood and wink at you.

You'd giggle, but you shook your head, cleaning the counter when he knocked over a glass of alcohol with his one elbow.

"I'm sorry, sir," You told him with that sweet smile, though you didn't seem very sorry. "I already have plans with your first mate."

Shanks backed off immediately, nodding his head and walking away before you could ask why. Even in his drunken state, he knew it was a complete waste of time to try and woo one of Benn's girls.

Plus, his first mate wasn't one to sleep around, so Shanks knew better than to interfere when he needed a night to relax. He was drunk, not heartless.

"Tough luck," Lucky Roux murmured through his mouthful of meat when Shanks told the table of pirates about the barmaid, not even looking up to console his captain. "No one gets one of Benn's girls."

"Yeah, no shit," The captain murmured with a hiccup, before slouching against the table with a few more, spinning a bottle cap around like a pouty child.

"I just wish we knew what he does to get girls so crazy," Yasopp replied under his breath, though he didn't necessarily care to keep his voice low. Anyone who knew Benn knew he was a charmer, even if he didn't go around flirting as much as his captain.

If only they knew. If only they knew how their Benn could drag his fingers across a lady's skin and make her feel like she was a work of art. How as much as Shanks told him one-night stands and hookups shouldn't last more than 30 minutes, he just can't leave a girl like that.

Was he not supposed to stretch her with his fingers? How was she supposed to fit him if he didn't— while you're at it, doesn't it feel better when you let her ride your face until she's squealing and pulling at your hair? And it would weight much too heavy on his conscious if he left a woman alone in bed when she's tired and sore and in need of some love, when he could put his left-over energy to use and make her a nice meal, maybe give her a massage to ease the ache he caused.

Of course a man like him was so popular with the ladies. He was practically made for women, with how he could memorize your body like the back of his hand, as if he's known you his whole life, but he only just learned your damn name.

He'll coo in that deep voice of his, say things a pirate most certainly shouldn't be saying to someone he'll never see again, with that charming smile on his face and slowly rolling his hips into yours, thumbing at your clit until you've coated the sheets in as much cum as you could give him.

And yet, he's never come across as a player. He isn't a womanizer; he isn't someone like Shanks who can't be trusted to remember his partners names after a week. He's tough as nails and brutal, but to the women whose hearts still throb for the first mate, he was a sweetheart. The type to empathize and sooth when he's just a little too big to fit all the way in your cunt, wiping your tears with kisses and assure you that you've taken more than enough for him to enjoy, so don't feel guilty.

"Benn," You're whining that night, just after you close and the Red Force was snickering when Beckman puts his hand on the small of your back, dwarfing you so intensely you felt your face go hot. You should have fucking guessed that a man with hands bigger than your head had a cock to match.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart. Just relax," He soothed, large fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling the little nerve with an ease that made you wonder if he'd done this before with you.

You knew good and damn well you'd remember if a man like this had ever been with you before, but he hadn't even taken his eyes off your face and yet he found your clit almost faster than you could.

You couldn't focus on that though, already fighting off delirium you only thought a cock could bring you, taken by surprise how he could get you so dumb when all he had done was fuck you with that big black vibrator. He kept you sat upright on his desk by letting you lay your head on his shoulder, fluttering kisses against your jaw and rubbing your back when you clenched around the toy and whined for more, soothing you with his whispers like a father soothing his baby in the dead of night.

"Not yet, little one." It had been not yet all damn night, and you were ready for more. Eyes locked on the tent in his pants, large and clearly thick enough to stretch you to your limit, but you couldn't find it in you to care how much it would hurt. He cared though, and thank God for that. He couldn't live with himself if one of his sweethearts got hurt when it was his job to make sure they were well taken care of and happy, even though Shanks tried to explain to him that his job was simply to get off and go.

When he finally pulled the vibrator out and let you slump against hi desk, he kissed along the inside of your thighs and cleaned up the mess dripping to your knees, murmuring enough poetic praise to keep you high on orgasm for longer than your ego appreciated.

"Aw, baby doll," He chuckled faintly against your cunt, a smile stretching across his lips when you squirmed and whined when his stubble brushed along your sensitive thighs. "You still wanna take my cock, don't you?"

"Yes." Your mother would be ashamed at how fast you answered the pirate, who merely chuckled again and lifted you into his arms.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More poolverine polycule?

"Fuuuuck," Wade groaned, pulling his suit away from his body. Sweat and dried blood agitated his skin and made it itch and burn. It felt like he'd rolled in meth and then laid on fire ants.

"You okay, bub?"

"Fine," Wade huffed, throwing gear down. "Just gonna try to drown myself in a cold shower." He could hear Logan in the fridge. Making a phone call. And dismissed it.

You were dealing with... something. Gone to see a specialist since they were gone. And you'd taken Mary with you, bless your heart. But now that you weren't here he was annoyed. You had some kind of witchcraft you could do that made this bullshit feel better.

Some fucking girl thing with lotion and oatmeal- he whined about feeling like a smoothie but god he always felt so much better when you were done with him. And he doubted Logan could do it- no fitness in that one. He looked at Jergens like it was a hate crime.

He watched the blood go down the drain and leaned against the wall making a mental note to call you. To see what they said at your appointments- see if they were going to DO something for you or if they could do anything aside from jam a needle into you every so often. They worried. Even if you told them it was routine.

The cold helped, most things. He looked down and tutted at his junk, "Traitor."

Logan snorted, "If you're done trying to drown, I got a towel. And I called Y/N to get the mix she uses for you."

Wade pulled the shower curtain back as he turned the water off, "Aww, Peanut-"

"Turn around, asshole," Logan said rolling his eyes, "Your back looked like it was going to peel off with your shirt."

"Felt like it," Wade said, stepping out of the tub and taking a towel, starting to dry himself off carefully. "She say anything else?"

Logan shook his head and started rubbing cream into Wade's skin gently, "Little cagey on the details," he grunted. "So-"

"So," Wade sighed, torn between relief and anxiety, "either something is worse and she doesn't want to say over the phone OR they're still running tests."

The other man grunted in agreement and Wade bit back a moan feeling guilty, "This feels so fucking good. Almost better than sex."

"Easy, bub. If you come all over her shower curtain-"

"I'll wash it like a gentleman," Wade groaned, "just don't stop. Feel like a dick-"

"I know. This first. She sounded okay, said she missed us. And that Mary was keeping her distracted."

Wade nodded and turned around so Logan could do his chest, sitting on the bathroom counter, "I don't know what witchcraft she did to this but fuck. It's worth smelling like a smoothie."

"She does class up the place," Logan hummed.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I rewatched s1e5 last night, and the warning Ed's mama gives him as a child will always hit me right where it hurts, I think. It's so painfully realistic.

Every little brown kid out there has had this talk. The particulars are different, but the fundamentals are the same. You are going to have to move through the world differently than other kids, and it's not fair and it's not right, but it is how the world works, and if you try to rebel against it too much, you're going to wind up dead or worse.

Ed's mama, I think, was especially well-equipped to give Ed this talk in a way that she thought would keep him safe. She clearly works in service; she knows first hand how rich White folks will treat you if you're not only brown but also very poor. And I can't help but think that she probably knows the talk she needs to give Ed is especially important because she knows her son, she knows he's clever and ambitious and so fucking smart, she has to know just as well as him that he could run circles around the rich white boys he sees with their private tutors and futures laid out for them, if he only had half a chance. But he's not going to get that chance, she thinks, and she knows the first question out of this kid's mouth is going to be "why not?"

And the really interesting thing, I think, is that she's broken the rules when she gives him this talk. She's taken a little piece of finery home from the estate, and she's going to let Ed keep it. She's got to know full and damn well that even this little scrap of silk, this tiny thing that she's probably chosen because it won't be missed, could cost her her job if anyone found out about it. But she brought it home to Ed, and even as she tells him that he can't have things like this, she gives him this little piece of finery to keep, because if she's already taken it for him, maybe he won't be tempted to reach for more on his own. Maybe this will keep him safe.

The thing about this talk is it's absolutely necessary and it's always going to be internalized in a way that hurts. This talk is when your parents sit you down at home, and they tell you these horrible things straight-up in a place where you're safe, but the thing is they're going to have to be a bit harsh about it because you're a kid, and you need to get the point because you're not old enough for subtlety but you're old enough that a mistake could get you killed. So she tells Ed that he's not the kind of person who gets nice things, and he never will be, because if he tries to reach further than his lot, he's never going to be safe.

And that's how we get Ed, in his late forties and richer than you can shake a stick at, and he's still absolutely convinced that he cannot have nice things. He's still hiding that piece of silk in his jacket and tucking it away in a panic whenever he thinks anyone sees it. He blames himself for not being able to handle the party, not the boat full of racist assholes, because he's thinking he should've known better when he's had never will be bouncing around in his head since he was a baby. Is it any wonder that when someone tucks that silk into his pocket all nice, and tells him he's actually very sophisticated, like Ed finally has permission to have these things, that it turns his entire world upside down?

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Princess Ti

Pair: Husband!Tee Higgins x Chase Sister!Reader

Descr: The day everyone’s been waiting for is here, GAME DAY- wait something’s not right. Barely proofread, but it's done.😅

TW: language, mentions of sex, childbirth.

Things Are Changing | Main Masterlist

WC: 5,003

....:::: * * •° ✾ °•* * ::::....

“Y/n, it’s almost kick off!” Your mother-in-law calls out.

You huff hugging your bump, looking at the shirt you’d usually be wearing for game day if you weren’t 41 weeks pregnant.

Usually, you'd be at the game cheering your husband and younger brother on from the stands, but that wasn't really an option this far along in your pregnancy. But you at least wanted to indulge in your favorite game day tradition: wearing Tee's jersey. However, that wasn’t going so smoothly either.

Your bedroom door opens, and Tee’s mom pops her head in. “You okay, darlin’?”

“I would be, but I’m still pregnant, so I’m not.” She chuckles and sits on the bed next to Tee’s jersey. 

“I know how you feel. You’re tired, antsy, anxious, moody. Little princess is really enjoying her time in there.” She offers you a kind smile.

“I think I made too good of home in there. Tee says there’s no better place for her to be than the womb. Of course, he would because he doesn’t have swollen ankles and an extra 30 lbs to carry on his torso. He was so scared I’d go into early labor that I think he convinced her to stay longer. 2 more weeks and she’ll be evicted via C-section, and that’s the last thing I want.” You pout, joining her on the bed.

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine. You’ve been doing everything right to get your body ready for this. She’ll come when it’s right. You said you woke up with contractions, right?”

You nod your head, “Braxton hicks. I’ve been dilated 2 centimeters for a week. Tee didn’t want to go to work, but it only lasted 15 minutes. The last one was actually before you came in, but it didn’t last long. It’s been like this since I hit 37 weeks.”

“Hey, you never know; babies surprise everyone.” You chuckle.

“I think I can fix this problem, though.” She points to the jersey. “Have a pair of scissors around?”

You go over to your vanity and dig out some hair scissors. She takes them and cuts a long triangle up the sides. “Here, now you can wear it and be comfortable.”

You slip the jersey over your white tee and admire her handiwork. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome; now we have a game to watch.” You happily link arms and join your mother in the living room.

“Y/n, your brother is driving me insane.” You roll your eyes when you see her eyes glued to her phone.

“What’d he do this time?” You sit between the ladies and hog a bowl of pretzels as she goes on about Ja’Marr’s post-game dinner requests.

You spend the next half snacking, yelling at the screen (not that you’d ever tell your husband), and listening to your mothers chat about their sons. You fell asleep during the start of the third quarter but woke to the same pain you felt this morning.

“I’m so tired of these fake ass contractions.” You hold on to your belly as the tightening gets worse. “Sorry for my language.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Babygirl, you’re in pain. No one is judging a few curse words, even if we both know you have a sailor’s tongue.”

“Momma, what-whatever, fuck- J told you isn’t- oh my god.” You grab hold of her hand as it’s held out.

“Hey hey, breathe, Y/n, breathe. Are you timing this?” Your mother-in-law nods as alarmed as yours. 

Your eyes squinched, teeth gritted, and you cried out in a pain you’d never felt before. “Mommy!”

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here.” You feel her free hand run your back. You try to do the breathing exercises she tells you and finally exhale when the pain dials down.

“Y/n?” You look up at the woman teary-eyed. 

“I lied, I don’t think these are Braxton hicks. They started a few hours after he left. I thought they were fake until they were happening every other hour. Now there’s even less time between them.” 

“I’m calling your midwife over and texting my son.” Your mother-in-law rubs your leg with a smile.

“Y/n, why didn’t you tell us you were in labor?” 

“Because I’m not. My water hasn’t broken yet, and they aren’t that close together. Tee’s not here. It’s not happening right now. If she wanted to come, it should've been this morning. It can’t be happening.” You shake your head and look up at the TV. As if on cue, your husband catches a pass and runs it to the endzone.

“Aww, babygirl, I know it’s scary, but this is what we’ve been waiting for.” She brings your head to her shoulder.

“The game isn’t over; we can’t just- ohhh fuck it’s back,” you whine as the contractions come back tenfold. You feel it everywhere now, your abdomen, back, pelvis- it was like you were being stabbed and electrified all over.

“Sarah is on her way over, and I called someone to get Tee.”

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

“Great catch, Tee! Great job, baby!” His teammates hollered as the wide receiver jogged over to the bench. 

The Bengals were winning 28 - 18 over the Browns, with both Tee and Ja’Marr catching each pass that came their way. Tee was all smiles as he sat back and took off his helmet. 

“That’s right, boy, show ‘em who's they daddy!” He chuckles as Ja’Marr hypes him up.

“Aight now, only one person can call me that, and she ain’t here yet.” They do their handshake with similar smiles. 

“Now that game gon be special,” Ja’Marr says before one of the sideline managers approaches them. “Hey, what’s the rush?” 

The girl looks at Tee with a sheepish smile.

He furrows his brows. “What’s wrong?”

She catches her breath and then speaks up. “We just got a call from your mom, your wife- Y/n’s in labor.”

“My sister’s in labor! Shit, I guess that day’s today.” Ja’Marr chuckles as his brother-in-law jumps up.

“I gotta go- wait, Coach- fuck.”

“Don’t worry, just go, Taylor knows. Go meet your daughter.” She smiles, ushering him off the field.

“I’ll catch up with y’all later. Take care of them! Good luck!” Tee waves as he runs into the tunnel.  

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Your midwife, Sarah, arrived at the house minutes after calling her and, making her the third person in your presence who seemed to enjoy your pain. Then, before she could even examine you, you leaned over in pain and felt a small gush of fluids coat your shorts. 

On the way to the birth center, you were shifting between feeling extremely anxious, pure electrocuting pain, and intense worry. Everything was happening so fast, and the fact that your husband wasn’t here was making all your nerves go off. 

“Wow, this room is really nice. I had all my babies in a cheap ass hospital, so I’m not used to this kind of luxury.” Your mom praised as you settled into your birthing room.

“Momma, I’m begging you.” 

Tee still hadn’t arrived yet, it that, along with the fact that you were currently 5 centimeters dilated, was not helping calm your anxiety at all. Sarah and the two moms in the room were doing their best to soothe your aches, but nothing beats the comfort of being in your man’s arms during your time in need.

“Maybe you should rethink the epidural, baby.” Mama T suggests while tying your braids up into a bun.

“Yea, babygirl, it could help. It’s never too late to ask.” Your mom added. 

In return, you shook your head, unable to open your eyes due to the pain. “No, we had a plan. No matter how bad it gets, I don’t want them to take away any of my senses.”

 God, how badly you needed your husband. You wanted him to be the one rubbing your back and helping you through the worst pain you’ve ever felt. How could he not be here right now? He’s been waiting for this day longer than you and is late! 

“Where the fuck is my husband?” You grunt through your gritted teeth.

“He’s on his way sweetheart, just breath.” Sarah coos, earning a deadly side eye from you. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“How about you think about how happy and relieved you’re gonna be when all this is over and your baby girl is safely in your arms.”

“Why did I let him do this to me?” You groaned, completely ignoring her. As the contraction subsides, you lay your hand over your eyes and let the exhaustion of labor pull you into a shallow slumber.

“Maybe we should start her on some Nitrous?”

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

About Nine Months Ago..

“My boobs have been absolutely killing me.” You hiss as you palm the tender flesh. 

“Want me to massage ‘em for ya?” You catch the cheeky smile on your husband’s face through the bathroom mirror and shake your head.

“No, Tamaurice, that will make them worse.” 

“Awww, the government name. What did I do this time?” he lightly groans, shuffling into the bathroom like a sad toddler.

“Nothing that this can’t tell us.” You shrug, pulling a box out of a CVS bag. 

“Y/n?”

“Tee?”

“That’s a pregnancy test.” 

Ever since you and Tee got married, you kept a box hidden in the lower cabinet for emergencies. “Yes, it is.” 

“Why do you already have it?” It started as a gag gift from one of your friends. It was a Secret Santa party, and they thought it would be funny since you always joke about how much sex you and Tee have.

“Baby, it’s just a precaution. I could be just PMSing, but we have to rule out the possibility.”

“How many of these have you taken without me knowing?” Enough to know you want this one to be positive.

He turns your body to face his and perfectly reads the longing on your face. You want this to be the last one more than anything.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to have a baby?” You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Y/n, I’m your husband. Remember that really expensive party on that mountain of snow? That was a wedding.” He chuckles as you slap his chest.

“I’m very aware that we’re married. It only happened eight months ago. I just didn’t want to be disappointed when you said no.” You frown, looking down.

“Hey, hey. Baby, don’t do that; let me see you.” His voice is calm and soft as he lifts your head to see his warm smile. “If you had told me you wanted to have a baby, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the second we got to the islands.” 

“Really?” He lifts you onto the counter so you can be eye to eye and smirks.

“Oh yeah, there’s nothing sexier than my wife walking around with my last name and my baby cooking for all the world to see. Fuck I’d love to see you pregnant with my jersey on. Then, by the end I get to raise a baby that looks just like you. I couldn’t be happier about that. Then after our little prince or princess is old enough and your ready, I’ll fuck you full of me again until there’s no doubt we’ll have another one on the way.”

Hearing him talk about getting you pregnant is so possessive, dirty, raunchy even, but all around absolutely amazing. He wants this just as much as you do, and maybe more. God, you’re lucky.

Grabbing his face, you smile as big as possible. “I love you so much, Tamaurice.” Then press your lips against his.

He chuckles into your lips and gently returns the kiss, wrapping your legs around him and hugging your body. “Ok baby, now don’t you have a test to take?” He asks after slightly pulling away, just enough for his words to come out clearly. You fully lean back and play with the braids on his neck.

“What if it’s negative?”

“Then I’ll spend the next few days making love to you all over this house, and we’ll enjoy every minute of it.” He said as if it was the sweetest dream he’d ever had, then pecked your forehead. “Okay mamas?”

Oh that name brought chills down your spine. You nodded as he lifted you off the counter and onto your feet. Taking a deep breath, you finally open the pink box and take out the test. “Will you stay here with me?”

“Of course, I will; now go pee on that stick mama.” He winks, slapping your butt as you walk into the water closet (private toilet). 

“I’m right here baby!” You roll your eyes but enjoy every bit of his enthusiasm. “I don’t hear any pissing, just giggling.”

“Oh my god, Tee, give it a second!”

“Want me to bring you some water? Actually I have a better idea.” Then he turns on the faucet. What’s not to love about this man?

Moments later, he hears a flush, and you join him back at the counter. “So…”

“We have to wait 15 minutes for the test to develop fully, " you said, putting the stick back in the box and washing your hands.

“You know waiting’s never been my strong suit.”

You roll your eyes and hop onto the counter. “Tell me a secret then.”

“Only if you tell me one.” He challenges laying his hands on your thighs.

“Deal.” You both smirk and count to 3 on your fingers. 

“Ja’Marr wasn’t the one who finished the rice and peas.”

“I hate making pecan pie.”

Your eyes widen while his jaw drops. “Baby, how the hell did you eat a whole pot of rice and peas?”

“Mamas, who gives a shit about the rice. You said you loved pecan pie. You asked my momma for the recipe!” Tee’s grip on your thighs deepens a bit.

“I said it because it was your favorite, and I wanted that second date! You can’t blame me for liking your fine ass. I would pretend to play flag football if it meant you’d like me as much as I did you. You know I hate running.” You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his pouty lips.

His lips curve back up in a smile as he chuckles. “You do hate running, so you’ve made that pie every year on my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas shit whenever I mention it all for me. You’ve never liked it once?”

You slowly nod, biting your lip. “Nope.”

A smirk grows on his handsome face, exposing his sparkly teeth. “You must’ve really liked a nigga to be doin’ all the cooking with no ring.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Of course I fucking liked you, have you met yourself. You’re probably the most charismatic, fine, intelligent, kind, sexy man I’ve ever met.” You smile, pecking his lips until he meets your lips with more force. 

After the short but sweet kiss, he pulls back from your lips but leaves your foreheads touching. “Damn, I don’t know what I did to deserve a woman like you. But I thank god every day for you. You know I’d do anything for you, too, right? Without you, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. After my first year in the league, I was feeling really low. Then, this angel walked onto the practice field and changed my life. There was no way I would’ve turned you down, not when you brought a light to my life I didn’t realize was missing.” You smile misty-eyed as he wipes away a stray tear.

“Shit, the only thing I regret in life is not buying you a ring sooner.” He says, causing you to scoff.

“Oh, two years was too late for you?”

“Oh, yeah. I was ready to be with you forever from day one. Your big-headed brother is the one who told me to wait, " he smirked.

You chuckle, laying a hand on his cheek. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m yours, and you’re mine; everyone else be damned.” His head turns slightly, and he kisses your palm.

“Just me and you, baby.”

Then the timer goes off.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

When Tee finally reaches the birth center, he finds your mother pacing outside.

“Hey, mama J, what’s wrong? Is she alright? Is it the baby? Oh god, what happened?” He asks with his hands going to the top of his head, panicked and looking through doors to see if anything is happening.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here.” She sighs in relief, taking the corner of his shirt and dragging him inside.

“It’s bad, isn’t it? I told her I should’ve stayed home today, but she was too stubborn, and now-

“Now, she can finally relax because you’re here.” She smiles and turns into the room. You smiled immediately upon seeing the love of your life.

“Oh fucking, finally!” Tee lets out the breath he was holding in and rushes over to your bedside. “You took your sweet ass time.”

He chuckles at your grumpiness and lifts your chin for your lips to meet briefly. “I’m sorry, mamas, I got stuck in the pads and walked into a few walls trying to get them off.”

You press your lips together to suppress your laughter. “Okay, that makes everything better, " you say as the chuckles bubble to the surface. While you release your amusement, he admires how adorable you look in your soft pink gown, with your long braids pulled up into a bun and your large bump with a fetal monitor wrapped around it.

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby. How are you so calm right now? I’ve been freaking out since this morning.” He looks over at your contraction waves and goes bugged-eyed by the giant waves produced in contrast to your bubbly appearance. “What the hell?”

“She’s on nitrous.” His mom looks over, smirking. 

“Shit, momma, I forgot you were here.” He nervously chuckles as she walks over to her son and hugs him.

“That’s ok, you have more pressing matters. You should’ve seen her earlier, though. I thought she was gonna start swinging.” The pair look over at you, taking selfies in your hospital bed.

“Now look at her, giving birth and snapping pics, mm mm mm kids nowadays.”

Then, another wave of contractions hit you a bit differently. “Oh shit.” You raise and hug your belly. “Someone call Sarah right now!”

Tee’s brows scrunch. “What’s up?”

“The baby’s coming.” You take the oxygen mask your mom hands to you and take a deep breath. He comes over and puts his hand on your lower back.

“I know, that’s why we’re here.” You shake your head and grab his free hand, squeezing as hard as possible. “Baby?”

“There’s this pressure- a lot of fucking pressure. I feel like I need to push.” You groan out.

“Wait, you mean push push?” He asks wide-eyed.

“Yes, fuck! Oh my god! Fucking shit! Why the hell did I let you do this to me?”

“Ok, we need to order more nitrous.”

“Hello friends, oh Tamaurice, I'm glad you could join us today.” Sarah chimes, walking into the room in full gear.

“Oh, that was fast.” Tee remarks.

“I heard her from down the hall, so I assume it’s baby time!” Your midwife cheers, rolling her stool over to the bed.

Suddenly, all the anxiety from earlier about Tee missing your daughter’s birth evolves into anxiety about the birth itself. “Wait, wait, wait. Baby, I don’t think I can do this. We haven’t thought this through. I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”

“Hey hey hey,” Tee cups your face in his hands and takes in the immense worry in your eyes. “Y/n, you are way more than prepared. You know exactly what to do and have all the strength to do it. You’ve done an amazing job cooking and caring for her in there, but it’s time for her to be in your arms instead of your belly.”

“But what if I’m not a good mom? What if she comes out and we just fuck her up?” Your voice trembles as you lean into him.

“Mamas, you aren’t going to be a good mom- you’ll be the best. Every decision you’ve made in the past year was for her. Our princess is being welcomed by my queen, and my queen only gives her 110%. My queen also has a king who is willing to do any and everything for you. This king is also ready to meet his Princess Ti, and I bet her momma is too.” He pecks your lips and then smiles as your tears dry up.

“Okay, let’s have a baby.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The following two hours felt like a blur of emotions: voices of your loved ones urging you to push, the hands-on your body holding you up, the exhaustion of the labor wanting to take over. Then, it all fluttered away with a sudden relief and a sharp cry. You immediately slumped back into the bed, the exertion impacting every part of your body. You wanted to fall asleep right there, now that all the pain had drifted away and you felt at ease. 

Then you opened your eyes and saw her.

At first, it was just a tiny head of dark hair. Then your midwife turned around, and there she was, wrapped up in a pink swaddle cloth, one hand swiping at her light brown cheeks and big eyes searching the room. 

“Oh my god.” Your whisper makes her eyes dark right to you, and she lets out a whimper.

“You want your mama, don’t you? Come on, sweet pea.” Sarah coos and you gently place her in your arms. 

“Oh wow, you’re real.” You breathily whisper to yourself. The infant’s eyes stay on you like you're the only person in the world, just like yours stay locked on her. “Hi, baby.” 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Tee leans over to kiss your head. You nod, stroking her tiny cheeks. 

“Yeah, she looks just like her momma.” He smiles, caressing her head.

“She’s amazing, I can’t believe we made her.” You sniffle. “Baby, we’re parents.” You smile, looking up at your husband.

“Speaking of, mom and dad, does our little angel have a name?” 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tee says as he rummages through the bag he brought. 

“What is it?”

He comes back with three black circular velvet boxes, one twice as big as the other two. “Here’s the real reason I was late.” You watch him smile, puzzled, while he hands you the bigger one.

“What is this?” 

“These ones,” he holds up the other two boxes, “are for our little princess from her uncles J and JB.” He smiles, opening one to reveal a small tiara.

Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your mouth. “Oh my god, that is the cutest thing I have ever seen.” Tee chuckles as he removes the small cap from your daughter’s head and replaces it with the small crown.

“Joe’s been asking what he should get her for months. I kept saying something fit for a princess. And he definitely delivered. He reminded me to grab it from his locker before I left. He hid it very well.” 

“And the other one?”

“I’ve had this one for a while. I think it was about a month after telling Ja’Marr that he texted me saying he had something for me to pick up.” He opens the second box.

“He didn’t.” You look up at him in complete shock and take it out of his hands.

“Pure gold bracelet, anklet, and ring set, made by the same company in NOLA that made yours. It was so hard to keep it from you; every time you had a slight ache or pain that made your days long and tiring, I wanted to bring it out and cheer you up. Especially when we found out they went out of business. I know you wanted this for our baby girl so badly. J really pulled through with this one.” Your mom joins you, looking at the set in awe. 

“I didn’t even know he knew about that.” She whispers.

“Me neither.” You sniffle as your husband kneels, takes the small bracelet out, and clasps it around your baby’s wrist.

“There are more adjustable chains for when she outgrows this one, but for now, she’s perfect.” He smiles, kissing her tiny hand.

“What about this one?” Your mom points to the box he handed you first. 

“This one is from me to my beautiful bride, who I am forever thankful for and proud of for doing one of life’s hardest jobs and giving me my baby girl.” You blink away tears as he smiles and kisses your hand before sitting on the side of the bed and revealing the last item. “I told you you’d always be my queen. And since our princess already has hers..” 

“Tee, it's beautiful.” Your voice trembled as he lifted an almost identical replica of the tiara on your baby’s head onto your own. 

“Only the best for the loves of my life.” He wipes a fallen tear from your cheek and kisses your head. Shifting over in the bed, you gesture for him to sit closer, and he gladly scoots up next to you.

Sighing in pure contentment, you lay your head on his chest. “Thank you, " you replied softly, yawning, then gently passing the bag to your husband. 

“We gotta make sure the princess lives up to her name. Ain’t that right, Tiana?” He cooes holding her with one arm and you with the other, supporting her head with your body.

“Yea my little girl’s not gonna fall for those little f boy traps, nope. She has a daddy who will show her the universe, so no one can ever top it but yourself. My precious girl, Tiana...

You swiftly drift off into a deep sleep, listening to your husband make promises to her, knowing he will keep.

ʚ❤︎ɞ ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ ʚ❤︎ɞ

A few hours later, after you’ve rested and fed your baby, Tiana receives her first visitor.

“Hey, family, where’s my Titi?” Ja’Marr sings, walking in your room.

Rolling your eyes, you nudge your head to where Tee’s sitting on the lounge chair next to your bed. 

“There she is,” he grins, sitting on the edge of the bed to admire her. “Wow, she’s incredible. You did a great job, sis.” He says, handing you two bags.

“Thank you, and thank you. How was the rest of the game?” you ask, opening the bag of steaming food, which fills the room with a mouthwatering aroma, and digging into your Cajun fries.

“It was okay. Most of the guys were worried about you. But we won, so all is well. They even dedicated the win to baby Tiana.” He chuckles, removing the beanie from his head.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, causing some of the fries to fall onto your gown.

He looks back at you, confused. “What?”

“Oh right, I forgot to tell her you buzzed your hair too.” Tee mentions it as if it was nothing.

“Bro, seriously.” Your brother questions, earning a shrug from your husband.

You continue to stare at him in shock but resume eating. “Did you do it yourself too?”

He shakes his head. “Hell nah, not after what I did to him.” You snort, thinking about the impromptu shape-up you had to give your husband.

“Yeah Tiana didn’t enjoy it either; she kicked so much that day.” 

“Baby, you sure it wasn’t because you overloaded on sugar beforehand?” Tee smirked, stealing one of your fries.

Before you can respond, you hear a whine come from his arms. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, Tiana. Are we not paying attention to you?” You smile at his ‘baby voice’ and look over to watch them interact, like everyone else in the room.

“Damn, she looks exactly like you, Y/n. Especially with the gold.” Ja’Marr winks.

“I still can’t believe you kept them a secret from me for eight months. I cried for days when they announced that they were closing down. I don’t know if you're the best or worst brother doing this to me.” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. 

“I think I earned brother of the year with that set.” You snorted, shaking your head.

“Yea, no, not with that haircut. Now go hold your niece.” You ordered, shoving him off the bed.

“Hey, that’s fine by me. Come on,  Titi, it’s Uncle Marr time.” He gave Tee grabby hands until the baby was passed into his arms then he took the seat.

“Thank goodness you don’t look anything like your dad. You might have his last name, but you got all the good Chase features.” Your husband rolls his eyes, joining you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around you, he sighs softly. “That’s my princess.”

“I know, honey. Think about this: she might not have it now, but when she gets older, I know she’s gonna have your amazing smile.” 

“You think so?” You nodded, then kissed his lips. 

“I know so because that’s the only expression she’s going to know. She’s going to learn that she has the best daddy who always makes sure her momma is smiling. She'll never have to worry with you by her side.” 

He chuckled, showcasing his award-winning smile. “I love you and Tiana so much.”

“We know, right, Titi?” Your daughter wiggled in her uncle’s arms, trying to find your voice, and then a slight whimper started to bubble.

“Oh, come on, Tiana, we were having a moment.” Ja’Marr pouts as the baby’s eyes start crinkling.

“I guess I’ll give you back now, but I will be back, Titi.” He mumbles, handing her to you.

“Oh, my precious princess Ti.”

﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌ ꕥ ﹌﹌﹌

a/n: I don't think I've ever worked on a fic as much and as hard as this one. I'm very glad it's finished, so yall enjoy. The final part of this mini series will be out next week!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged if you liked this fic. (pls validate me lol)

[hannahssimblr]

Her shoulders begin to shake with her sobs. “I hate this,” she says. “I hate all this bloody change all at once.”

“I know.”

Startled, we both look up as the patio door opens. Evie slips out. Perhaps she is looking for me, but she diverts her course and begins collecting the empty plates on the table instead. She goes back into the kitchen. 

“Fuck sake,” says Jen, swiping at her face like she could shove the tears back where they came from. “Here I am, crying at you, after Evie’s already cried at you, and who knows who else, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s alright. There’s a kind of sad, crying vibe in the air these days.”

She laughs. “Except you, right? You’ve not shed a tear.”

“I’ve cried,” I say mysteriously. “Just not tonight.”

“You will.”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I’ve been feeling a bit numb in general.”

“Makes sense. I wish I was.”

“No, you don’t.”

She rests her head on my shoulder. It’s a familiar, specifically Jen kind of action, the feel of that soft, warm cheek through my t-shirt and the smell of her shampoo. This action is one she’s repeated a thousand times before, like when we watch a film, or when she’s tired, or sad, or wants to talk about her day, or read a book with me and comment on it without context. I know it will be the last time for a while. 

“I’ll miss you,” she says. “I think I’m going to miss all of this time in my life when it’s gone.”

“Nah, things will get better than this. Don’t hold these years up as the best you’ll ever have. That’s depressing.”

“Do you think we’ll romanticise our teens some time in the future? Whether we’ll think about how young and gorgeous we were, all the fun we had, and give absolutely anything to get it back?”

I chuckle. “No. I’ve hated this mess. There’s barely anything I’d like to preserve.”

“Except me.”

“Yeah, except you, exactly as you are. Obviously. I’d keep you in a glass jar if I could and take you all over the world in my bag.”

Evie crosses the kitchen window with another handful of bowls, and we both watch her slot them neatly into the dishwasher. “And her,” says Jen. “You’d keep her too.”

“Jen.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“I think that if you had half a brain, you would.”

It’s true. This girl that I watch through the window, with whom I spent just a summer, has trusted me with her dreams. Those whispered to me in a parked, idling car. Her secrets, she revealed as we lay on the grass under a canopy of blossoming trees. There are parts of me only she has seen. I know that if the timing were different, and a girl like this would have me, I would build my world around her, but we’re too young, and by the time I met her, it was already much too late.

She flits around the kitchen until she’s cleared away the last dish, and then with idle hands, for one moment, she stands and stares out the window. I know she is looking for me, and won’t see me in the dark, yet I feel like there’s a frisson between us. It’s striking and strange. It’s some sort of knowing. We are watching one another with a stillness, like two animals of the same species spotting one another in the wild. 

Then she turns and is swallowed up by the darkened hallway behind her. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[nomie-11]

Chapter 10 - Shifting Tides

<- previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter ->

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

“Soo, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” Violet starts as the three of them walk down their new dorm. First year dorms may be the smallest private dorms on campus, but damn, all Genevieve could think was that was the best night sleep of her life. 

“I felt like celebrating,” She said, and Genevieve whistled. 

“You didn’t think to ask me first?” She says, her words light as a small smile comes on her face. 

“You have enough on your plate, sex wise,” Rhiannon said, teasing Genevieve. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?”  She asks Violet. “Ridoc definitely has a thing for you, not emotionally just physically, and Liam has a thing for you emotionally.” 

“Liam? Liam Mairi? You’re insane.” Violet says, waving her off. “And either way, if he wants to celebrate with me, he’s going to have to ask first.” 

Genevieve and Rhiannon laugh, and she giggles too, a blush on her cheeks. 

“Good morning, Ladies.” Ridoc says, forcing his way through the crowd and slinging an arm around their shoulders as they enter the dining hall. “Or should I say, riders.”

“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction. 

“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees. 

“It definitely sounds better than dead.” Genevieve says, her voice serious but the tone implicates a tease. 

“Where’s your relic?” Violet asks, used to ignoring the awful offhand comments Genevieve makes. 

“Right here,” He says, his arm falling off of their shoulders as he rolls his sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown silhouette of a dragon on his upper arm. “You?” 

“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.” Ridoc whistles, and he spins to face Rhiannon. 

“And you? What about yours, Rhi?” 

“Somewhere you’ll never see,” She responds, and he laughs. 

“You wound me.” He slaps a hand over his heart. 

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there's a smile on her face. The group moves through the hall into the line for breakfast. 

“And Genevieve?” He asks Rhiannon, completely bypassing asking Genevieve who he knows isn’t paying attention. 

“On her back,” Rhiannon says. “It’s crazy looking. Her rebellion relic mixes with her dragon relic. It’s insane.” 

As they make their way through the line, Genevieve’s mind is elsewhere. It feels as if the energy in the dining hall has shifted. It’s different now. 

“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters in a context Genevieve hasn’t heard. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.” 

“I can,” Violet shrugged, taking her chances with a maybe poisoned mug of apple juice. “I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out of the wing.” 

“I don’t even know what you’re saying, but they’d have to kill me first,” Genevieve says, taking a bite out of her own apple. As they walk to the fourth wing section of the cafeteria, they find a table and only three extra seats. 

“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts. 

“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench. 

“Sorry, Hale!” The other says over his shoulder as they find another table. 

What the fuck?

“Well, that was really fucking weird.” Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and Genevieve sits on the other side as Violet follows. 

“Even weirder?” Ridoc remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing. 

The girls follow his line of sight, and their eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take a seat. 

“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews. Jack moves again, and then again.

”Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Ridoc notes, watching the same show they all are. There’s no satisfaction in their view, everyone knows feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered. 

“Hey, Hale,” the stocky girl from First Wing I beat in my second challenge says with a tight smile as she walks past our table. 

“Hey,” she says, nodding her head, but then she turns to face Rhiannon. “That girl hasn’t spoken one word to me since I threatened her hair when she beat up Violet.”

“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench. She sits, pushing the sleeves up from her tunic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Hale, are now the most powerful rider in the quadrant. If they weren’t scared before they’re definitely scared now.” 

She blinks, her pulse elevating. Is that what is going on? Social groups have split, but it still doesn’t make sense-

“Which is why you’re sitting with us now?” Rhiannon arches a brow at the second-year. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” She holds up a fist with zero fingers raised. 

Genevieve glances around the table, to the seconds years, Quinn and Imogen, and to Sawyer who has finally arrived. Imogen is cool and Quinn is cool as well, but this was strange. Genevieve’s eyes glance at the patches on their jackets, but she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows that her patches mean Flame Section, Fourth Wing, First Year, and now also Iron Squad. 

“You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before, and now you’ve survived Threshing, so you’re worth it.” Imogen responds as she bites into a muffin. Suddenly the third years in their section sit down too, and Genevieve almost chokes on the apple she’s been nursing the entirety of breakfast. 

“My dragon is not that cool, if that's what you’re looking for,” She says, biting her tongue from saying anything mean. 

“I take immediate offense to that,” Tairn huffs. “Now eat something more than an apple and get over your fear that Oren has poisoned you.” 

“I’m not eating the food on my plate,” Genevieve counters. “It’s definitely poisoned.” 

“We aren’t looking for your dragon,” Imogen says, her voice strong. “We’re looking for you, because now you’re under our watch. Now eat your food.”

Genevieve looks bewildered, but she doesn’t say a single thing. 

“You’re the Iron Squad, and you and Violet both have some crazy dragons on your tail. That means eyes are on you from every direction. A huge red target is painted on your back.” Her voice is low, but it cuts through the clamor of the hall. “And whether you like it or not, this balance isn’t going to change any time soon, so get used to it.” 

Genevieve glances at Rhiannon, confusion evident on her face. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.” She says, her words biting and strong. 

“Oh, Xaden didn’t tell you?” She says, a sly smile on her face. “Tairn and Sgaeyl are mated, so even though your relic isn’t on your arm, you’re one of us now.”

“Oh shit,” Ridoc whispers, and Violet nods her head in agreement. 

“You’re in our squad now.” 

—————————————-

Violet had explained to Genevieve that mated dragons aren’t common, not even by a long shot, and to let mated dragons bond riders in different years was unheard of, but dragons do what dragons want, as exemplified by Violet. 

She explained that Xaden and Genevieve themselves are now binded, their lives intertwined in some sick curse that ties their fate with a little red string. When one dies, the other dies, when one gets hurt, the other feels it, when one feels another strong emotion, the other feels the emotion. She was never alone with Tairn now, but not only was Tairn in her head, Xaden was too. 

“Stop thinking so hard and get on my back, we have maneuvers to master,” Tairn grumbled, his voice low. She mounted his back, and found her seat easily. 

“Were you planning on telling me? That you and Sgaeyl were mated?” She asked over the bond, her mind distracted from her actions. 

“Sgaeyl had assured me that the wingleader would tell you, and that I shouldn’t worry about it,” He said, his tone grumpy like it usually was. “I see now that he did not, and I should stop trusting that wingleader.” 

“You don’t like Xaden?” She asked, as they took off, following second behind Professor Kaori, who Tairn had said he would only follow because he was Genevieve’s professor. 

“I don’t like the boy,” Tairn huffed. “But Sgaeyl loves him, so I won’t char him. Maybe I’ll lightly toast him.” 

“You shouldn’t set him on fire anyways, he’s an asset,” She said quickly, ignoring the blush rising on her cheeks. Genevieve cast another glance down at Violet, a few dragons back. Andarna didn’t come, Violet flew on Atrape alone.  “What’s the deal with Violet and Atrape?” Genevieve asked, quickly diverting the conversation away from Xaden and onto Violet. “She looks like she can’t hold her seat.” 

“She can’t,” Tairn replies, banking left, following Kaori into the canyons. “Atrape is one of the strongest dragons in the vale, maybe third to Codagh and I. Her powers are keeping Violet in that seat.” 

“Shouldn’t she be saving her powers, for…” Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to verbalize what she wanted to say. “…combat?”

“Stop asking meaningless questions,” Tairn huffed, his annoyance evident in every word that was communicated in their bond. “Atrape has more power in her than most other dragons could even imagine having. She will be fine.” 

And Genevieve nodded, who was she to argue with a dragon, an all-mighty, all-knowing being. The dragon that had chosen her. She was not one to argue. Her grip tightened on Tairn’s back as the cool rush of wind from the canyon blew against her hot skin. She knew better than to press Tairn when he was already somewhat irritated, but she wanted to know how Violet was keeping her seat. 

As they neared the sharp turns of the canyon, Genevieve let the questions go, her focus snapping to the task at hand. Flight training was brutal, she couldn’t afford a lapse in concentration. Train’s powerful wings sliced through the air as they banked hard left, narrowly avoiding the jagged cliffs that seemed to rise out of nowhere. Kaori’s dragon led the pack, weaving through the narrow paths with ease. She could sense Tairn’s irritation at following anyone, but for some reason, it felt as if he cared enough about her to swallow his pride. 

Behind her, the presence of a struggling Violet claws at her mind. 

Be quiet, Geneiveve, She chastised herself. Violet is your friend. She’s trying. Be nice. 

“I didn’t know nice was in your vocabulary,” Train huffed. “Now focus.” 

“I am!” She shot back, adjusting her posture as they approached a narrow pass. The jagged rocks below glinted dangerously in the sunlight, promising death to anyone who made the wrong move. 

As they passed the gap, her eyes flicked back to Violet, who was struggling more visibly now. Atrape’s wings beat with precise power, but there was something off about the way Violet held herself in the saddle. She was slipping, her body tense and rigid, as if each move was a desperate attempt to stay upright. Geneiveve knew that look–the look of someone who was fighting for control, not just over their dragon, but over themselves. 

“She’s going to fall,” Genevieve muttered over the bond, her heart skipping a beat. 

“She won’t,” Train replied, his voice steady but cold. “Atrape won’t let her.” 

Kaori signaled the next maneuver–a sharp dive into a winding ravine, followed by an immediate ascent. Genevieve could feel the pressure in her chest as Tairn obeyed, plunging toward the ground with a terrifying speed that left her stomach in knots. 

As they pulled up, her breath caught in her throat as Tairn shot off. He was so fast. The wind in her hair was so freeing. 

“You ready?” Train asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge. 

“Always.”

With a swift movement, they dove into the loops, Train’s wings angling perfectly to guide them through the tight spaces. Genevieve felt every shift, every beat in sync with her movements. They were seamless, an extension of each other. The world blurred around her as they cut through the air, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. Violet, behind her, struggling more than ever. Atrape’s wings fell, just for a split second, and Genevieve knew–knew deep in her heart–that Violet wasn’t going to make it through the next turn.

“Violet!” She shouted, the sound swallowed by the rush of wind, her heart lurching. 

She felt the tug of the bond, Xaden’s awareness surging into her thoughts. He felt it too, the fear, the instinct to protect. But Genevieve couldn’t let herself be distracted by that–by him. 

“Leave it!” Train barked, sensing her instinct to intervene. 

Genevieve hesitated, her grip tightening as the next loop approached. She had to make a decision. Focus on the maneuver, or–

Atrape dipped down, grabbing Violet with her claws and tossing her back into her seat. 

“Thank the gods,” Genevieve whispered, her own heart racing as if she was the one who fell. 

“Look at you, you have emotions!” Train laughed. 

“Oh, shut up!”

—————————————

“Were you planning on-” her shin came into contact with the punching bag she was using. “never telling me that our dragons are mated?” 

Xaden’s eyes were dead set onto her body under the guise of watching her train. Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Liam, and a few other rebellion kids were in the gym. As Genevieve’s eyes cast over the room, her eyes narrowed on Violet. 

“And why is Imogen training Violet?” Her other leg made contact strongly, but she was distracted, so she stumbled back. 

“I was going to tell you, I was just waiting for…” he trailed off, his words lost on an already angry Genevieve. 

“No you weren’t. You were going to wait for me to ask like always,” she snapped. Her eyes held so much rage, Xaden could feel the flames of anger engulfing him. “Did you manipulate Threshing?” Her voice was a dangerous whisper. “Did you tell Sgaeyl to bond me so we would be linked together?”

“Of course not!” He immediately responded. “This is the worst case scenario, I do not want to be linked to you.”

Genevieve’s expression narrowed, her body going rigid with tension. Her expression darkened as she took a step closer to Xaden, the sheen of her sweat glistening under the mage lights, but her focus was far from the physical exertion of training. “Worst case scenario?” She repeated, her words venomous. “So being bound to me is so repulsive that it’s your worst case scenario?”

Xaden ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching with tension as the weight of his own words sank in. 

“Gen, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” his voice softened, trying to ease the fire that radiated off of Genevieve. “This bond just complicates things—everything. You know that.”

She scoffed, eyes flicking between him and the rest of the room. The rebellion kids continued their sparring, laughter mingling with the sharp sound of fists hitting targets, completely unaware of the storm brewing between them. Violet had slowed her movements, however, casting a glance in their direction. It only fueled Genevieve’s resentment.

Genevieve’s fingers curled into fists, her knuckles whitening with the force of her anger. She took another deliberate step toward Xaden, her voice low and cutting, barely concealing the fury beneath the surface. “Complicates things for you, you mean.” Her eyes narrowed further, the tension in her muscles betraying her desire to his something—maybe even someone. “Because Gods forbid you have to deal with the consequences of anything outside your control.”

Xaden’s jaw tensed as he fought to keep his composure, but Genevieve’s words hit home. He’d always prided himself on control—of his dragon, his squad, his emotions—and now, it was unraveling. Genevieve, with her endless need for vengeance, her relentless drive, and now their unwanted bond, was the epicenter of that chaos. She was the reason. 

“I didn’t choose this,” he said firmly, his voice edged with frustration. “Do you think I wanted Tairn to bond with you? This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you.” His faze flickered away briefly, landing on Violet again, who had now fully paused her training to watch. That momentary distraction only inflamed Genevieve’s temper further. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. She advanced again, her proximity forcing Xaden to meet her eyes. “This isn’t about the bond alone. This is about trust. This is about the fact that you kept this from me. That you decided what I should or shouldn’t know, like you always do.” 

Xaden’s face hardened. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I was trying to figure out the details of it, how to handle it before—”

“Before what?” Genevieve’s voice rose now, drawing the attention of the others in the gym. Xaden’s group of friends in the training gym paused, sensing the rising tensions. “Before you thought it was convenient to share? Or were you hoping I wouldn’t notice the massive life-altering detail until it was too late for me to get angry?” 

Liam, sensing the explosive energy in the room, began walking toward them, his easy grin faltering, but Garrick held him back, shaking his head with an easy ‘no’. Imogen and Bodhi exchanged glances, but they stayed in place. Violet’s eyes lingered, her posture tense, though she hadn’t moved. 

Xaden stepped closer to Genevieve now, his voice lowered but charged with intensity. “I was waiting until I could tell you in a way that didn’t—”

“Make you look like the selfish bastard you are?” Genevieve interjected harshly, her words hitting with the force of a blow. Her body was shaking, but not from the fatigue. It was from the rage she’d been suppressing since Imogen told her news that Xaden should have said in private. Since she’d realized that Xaden, despite everything they’d shared, still decided to withhold something so vital. 

He flinched, a flash of regret crossing his face, but he didn’t retreat. “You know that’s not true,” he said quickly, but with conviction. “You know I never wanted this, but I didn’t want to make it worse either.”

”Worse?” Genevieve spat, her eyes blazing. “There is no ‘worse,’ Xaden. They’re dragons that bind our fate down to our own deaths and you let Imogen, someone who is practically a stranger, tell me? Instead of facing it and telling me you ran. You ran from me, from this, from everything.” 

For a moment, the silence between them was deafening. The others in the gym held their breaths, waiting for the explosion. Genevieve’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she glared at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that would justify his actions. But Xaden remained still, his expression unreadable as he weighed his next words carefully. 

“I didn’t run,” he said finally, his voice like a storm on the horizon—low, dark, and gathering strength. “I’m here, aren’t I? Fighting for us, for whatever the hell this bond means.” 

Genevieve’s gaze hardened further, but something flickered beneath her fury. His words had struck a chord, and for a brief second, she felt the weight of his own burdens, his fears. But it wasn’t enough to douse the fire inside her. 

“And yet,” she whispered, stepping back, the space between them feeling like a chasm, “you keep pushing me away. Every time I get close, every time there’s a chance for something between us that isn’t just physical, you shut down. You keep your secrets, your plans, and now even this from me.”

The gym was still now, the air thick with unspoken tension. Everyone was watching, waiting for the next move. But Genevieve didn’t care. She was done playing his games, done being a pawn in a world of half-truths and manipulations. 

“Maybe being bound to you really is the worst-case scenario,” she said bitterly, her voice cold as ice. “Because I don’t think I can trust you anymore.”

The mage light above her blew out in a craze of sparks and glitter, and it felt like her skin was on fire with… magic. 

“Day one of dragon bonds,” Imogen started, awe laced into the sarcasm she normally carried. 

“And Genevieve is already channeling.” Violet finished. 

And with that, she turned on her heel, leaving the gym and a stunned silence in her wake, her anger radiating like heat off her skin.

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

Hello everyone! What’s up? I’ve currently written a few chapters ahead so I can keep updating twice a week for at least a few weeks, so hopefully this new schedule makes you all happy!

On another note, I just wanted to say thank you for all of your words of appreciation and your compliments, I seriously cannot believe you guys actually read what I write and for you to tell me how much you love it makes me so happy I want to cry.

Please, like and comment if you enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts! What’re your predictions on her signet? I want to know~

[tennessoui]

For the OTP questions, could I ask for 25 with the smithsonian au?? I feel like it would be funny to see what they do when they do have something in common 😭

lmao the smithsonian au !!! thank you for sending this in from this list of prompts !

25. do they have any hobbies they share?

lmao they would not be able to handle having anything in common but they probably honestly have a lot that they agree about they just....refuse to admit it.

but ok here are two things they have in common/hobbies they share: hating on the rocks (geology) team & bike riding. anakin picked up biking because he knew obi-wan liked it and he decided he was going to be Better At It than obi-wan, as if leisurely biking were a competition. but since it's not a competition they just sort of accidentally end up going on nice bike rides around the dmv area. almost like a dat---(gunshots)

and obi-wan has always hated the rock people because he's just silly and petty like that. anakin also has always hated the rock people because obviously space rocks are cooler than earth rocks. but when obi-wan finds out that anakin hates the rock people he finds a rock person to take out on a date (to their trivia team night) just because he knows anakin will hate that The Most. unfortunately, obi-wan also finds him annoying because he's a rock person. this is a new low for him:

Anakin's bouncing his leg up and down beneath the table, something he doesn't even notice until Padmé reaches out and grasps a hold of his knee.

"I'd ask if you needed a drink, but you've already had three," she mutters, squeezing once before letting go. "Come on, don't tell me you need to be drunk to spend time with Obi-Wan these days."

Anakin scowls, half at the name and half at the words. "I'm not thinking about him at all," he snaps back, which is a lie. "It's just rude to be late. Especially to trivia. Why are we even on the same team? That's not--"

"He thought it would be nice," Padmé says, taking a sip of her own cider. "He explicitly requested that we don't talk about work. Maybe he's trying to bond with you."

Anakin's scowl turns into a softer frown. Bond with him? Obi-Wan Kenobi doesn't want to bond with him. How would they even work if they weren't at each other's throats? What would they talk about? How would--

His mind flashes back to the first time they ever met, before Kenobi opened his mouth to reveal that beneath his gorgeous face, he was just a British dick.

He can feel his face heating, and he takes a sip of his beard to distract himself. Ugh. Kenobi. Kenobi.

"Apologies for the delay," Kenobi says, as if Anakin's thoughts have conjured him into existence. He drops into the chair next to Padmé and kisses her hello on the cheek.

Anakin's scowl is back. Fucking Europeans. He's not even a European. He's from an inconsequential fucking island in the middle of nowhere.

"Gregor here had to finish up a bit of work at the lab," Kenobi continues before looking across the table at Anakin. "Hello, Anakin," he says, tone noticeably cooler but there's something smug about it. About his whole face. And...everything. "Have you met Gregor? He's also a Smithsonian employee."

Anakin casts his gaze to the man still standing at the head of their table. "No," he says, then adds, lying through his teeth, "Pleasure."

"Which department?" Padmé asks sociably as Gregor sits down next to Obi-Wan, who smiles and places his hand on Gregor's arm.

"Mineral studies," Obi-Wan tells them. "I thought perhaps Gregor here would be a boon during the more technical science questions we can never get right."

"Oh, is that why you brought me along?" Gregor asks, turning to Obi-Wan with a familiar, sickening twinkle in his eyes. "And here I thought this was a date, Obi."

Obi-Wan laughs and pats his arm, but his eyes are tighter around the edges. He hates the nickname, Anakin knows. Apparently Gregor doesn't.

"Only if you win it for us, darling," he tells Gregor, and Anakin scowls.

Darling. Ugh. This is bar trivia.

"Mineral studies," he says suddenly. "What's that then?"

"Well," Gregor replies, puffing up the way anyone in DC does the moment they're given an opportunity to talk about what they do for a living. "I guess the easiest way to describe it is that I study rocks. I mean, that's really boiled down, and it's more like---"

He continues, but Anakin's stopped listening the moment Gregor said the word rocks. Rocks.

He raises his eyebrows at Obi-Wan in disbelief. He brought a rock guy to trivia. He's planning to fuck a rock guy. A rock guy. He shakes his head at the other man, who just blinks as if he doesn't understand. As if hating rock people isn't the one thing that they have in common.

This is a new low, even for Kenobi.

[amazingmsme]

(Elpenor Anon)

I have this thought of literally The Epic God Siblings (y’know, Apollo, Ares, Hephaestus, Athena) literally chasing Hermes down to fucking tickle him for the amount of times he tickled them at random moments.

Hermes may be the god of travelers and mischief, but he’s also the youngest sibling (besides Dionysus), and older siblings have an obligation to bully their younger sibling.

Hermes will literally pop to random places, trying to get away, only for them to chase him down. He’s basically running away.

But they’re determined. They’re going to get their hands on their mischievous little brother and they’re going to teach him a lesson.

And Hermes knows the moment they catch him, his wings will be tingling for days.

But he knows they will catch him in the end.

Kdvaandbkx it’s their right as siblings to band together & absolutely WRECK that smug lil shit! I can totally see him having a mischievous streak where he’s been going around from one god to the next to go bother them & tickle them til they scream & then dips tf out right before they can get their revenge. & that’s just not fair, & you know they’re gonna hunt him down & give it back to him 10x as bad. I feel like Apollo & Ares are the most ruthless with their attack. Apollo because he’s close to Hermes & loves to bully him; Ares because a tickle fight is still technically a fight, & NO ONE walks away from a fight with him unscathed

Athena & Hephaestus are just barely better & are the ones who make sure he can actually fucking breathe. They only give him 5-10 second breaks, but that’s more than enough for a god! Hephaestus is slow & meticulous while Athena jumps from spot to spot to keep him guessing & keeps her touches light because she knows Hermes can’t fucking stand that

I feel like Apollo would tip him off just to make him nervous & paranoid & trigger the chase, knowing their other siblings are just waiting for him to mess up while trying to run away. Hermes knows he can’t actually escape his fate, & he’s just delaying the inevitable. But tbh he wouldn’t have it any other way! If this is what it takes to get them all to spend some quality family time together, then so be it. He’ll happily be the sacrificial lamb