#but the line between love and hate was so thin I ended up completely on the other side eventually 😂

[omppupiiras]

I didn't watch UMK this year (I never do honestly), but watching bits of it now bc of Käärijä I wonder if I would have lost my mind over this man sooner if this is how I would've been introduced to him

[museandwords]

we don't gotta be in love (bucky barnes)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, dubcon (reader is a bartering chip), arranged marriage, blood, implied age difference, virginity loss, wedding night, rough sex, Bucky is an animal, reader is Tony Stark’s daughter, alludes to Bucky beings powerful man of ambiguous design, alternate universe, breeding kink, big dick kink, Bucky is in love with her but she hates him, it’s not a fairy tale, it’s primal and it’s kind of messy.

Author’s note: this is just….pure filth, send me to jail, don’t tell my therapist.

continuation is right here

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

—

You, sweet, angelic, siren-like you. All wrapped up in a delicate lacy bra, a white ribbon in your hair, and your legs spread wide enough for Bucky to slot in between them.

Your glistening pussy was on full-display, tight and pink and soaked. Virginal and leaking slick as you lay there. You’re nervous, though you keep a brave face on as you present.

Your fiery eyes look up to meet his. You’re nervous and you’re scared. He's so big. His thick shaft dwarfs your folds as he rubs it along your seam.

You squirm, not sure what else to do. "Bucky…It's too big, it's not going to fit…" You whine at your new husband softly.

Bucky's gaze lingers on your delicate form, taking in the sight of his precious little Omega before him. He teases the tip of his thick member along your slick folds again and again, reveling in the way you quiver at the contact.

Your innocence and vulnerability only serve to stoke the primal desire within him. His intense blue eyes darken with hunger, your sweet scent of arousal enveloping him.

His large hand grips your chin firmly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze with eyes filled with determination.

"Shh, princess. Trust me," he growls softly, his voice a gravelly reassurance as his other hand snakes between your thighs, spreading your lips further to accommodate his size.

"You can take it, baby girl. You were made for me," he murmurs, the authoritative tone in his voice leaving no room for argument as he lines himself up with your entrance.

With a swift thrust, he enters you, the stretch causing you to gasp and tense against him. Bucky's restraint slips slightly at the sensation of your tight warmth surrounding him, but he reigns himself in, not wanting to overwhelm you. He holds still, allowing you to adjust to his size, his own need for you almost unbearable.

"See, you can take it," He reassures you, his hand moving up to cup your cheek tenderly as he begins to move, setting a steady pace that promises to fill you completely. He watches your reactions closely, his own control a thin veneer over his desire to claim you completely.

And just like that, Bucky made you his.

You should be afraid of this Alpha, this beast of a man who claims your virginity like he's entitled to it.

You want to hate him.

But how can you?

Your whole world is zoned in completely to where he's breaching you. He's so thick, his length seems to never end, and your back arches as you’re forced to take all of him.

It's like you can feel him in your stomach. You let out a high pitched whimper, and your thighs tighten around his waist.

As your eyes screw shut and you grip on his bicep for purchase.

Your virgin blood coats Bucky's cock, and it stains the white veil you still had on as he begins to fuck into you with a steady pace.

"I—…Bucky, I can't breathe…." You gasp, so genuine, soft and whimpery.

With your desperate plea for air, your voice tinged with a mix of fear and desire, Bucky's eyes bore into you, a glint of possessiveness shining through.

"You belong to me now, little wife," He growled, his voice husky and commanding, a mix of roughness and control.

Feeling your innocence and resistance only fueled Bucky's primal desires. He relished in the challenge, the conquest of your body like a prize waiting to be won.

As Bucky's relentless thrusting claimed you, your gasps, so pure and vulnerable, only served to fuel his aggression.

Bucky's grip tightened, his strength overpowering as he took what he wanted, his hips moving with a fierce determination. The room was consumed by the intoxicating scent of your arousal, mixing and mingling as your bodies became one.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you’re forced to take all of it again and again, the feeling of being so full is an adjustment, you hated how quickly you were coming to relish in it.

His arms come up to hook beneath the crease of your thighs and he begins to fold your body into a more submissive position. Your body curls and your eyes fly open, your glassy gaze meeting stormy blue as you can't help but let out a whiney moan from the sensation. The sight of you, vulnerable and yielding, stirs something within him, a hellish urge to devour, claim, push you to your limits as he delves deeper inside your velvety warmth.

You’re quick to realize whether you like it or not; you belong to him, for better or for worse. You go from a Stark girl to a Barnes wife. Tony Stark gave you to this beast of a man. And he takes it. Bucky takes all you have and consumes you.

Like an animal fucking for purpose rather than pleasure.

Your hand flies to the creaking mattress as you grip the sheets, your breasts bounce with each thrust and you begin to let out harsh pants that match each thrust in.

"Bucky…" You whine through gritted teeth as the pain begins to subside and the friction from the drag of his cock inside begins to feel good.

Bucky growls low in his throat as he moves within your eager, wet heat. The sound of your mingled pleasure filling the dimly lit room. His powerful thrusts are relentless. The scent of your arousal, sweet and heady, fills the space around you, driving Bucky wild with desire.

You want to hate this man. You want to hate him with all that you are because you were forced to marry him, to be his wife.

But the way he fucks into you has you confused, your brain more focused on how this Alpha takes your body so well, so dominantly and rough that it makes your pussy throb and your heart swell. It’s so ridiculous, so fucked up in your mind you can’t seem to bridge the gap.

With one particular thrust, Bucky's tip kisses your cervix, and you let out an involuntary scream from the sensation. Your manicured nails dig into the sheets, nearly shredding them as he picks up the intensity and drills harder into you.

You take it, you moan and you whine and you whimper and your tight warmth sucks his cock in, hungry for it now that you have it.

You’re overwhelmed from all the sensations, the way he's biting and sucking and licking your flesh, the way his pubic bone grinds against your clit and the way his cock stuffs you so perfectly that he rubs against your g-spot and cervix every time.

Tears begin to form in your eyes, a sign of your increased pleasure as your mouth falls open, Bucky forcing moans from your lips with each thrust in.

You know the purpose of this, you know what his instincts are telling him to do.

Reproduce. Claim. Mate.

"You're…trying….to get me pregnant…." You gasp out in realization as Bucky's hips slam into yours. You mewl, your body blossoming for him as he continues to drill into your tight wet heat.

Feeling you tighten around him, reacting to his every thrust, sent a dark thrill through him. It was as if something wild and feral prowled just beneath the surface of his skin, urging him to give in to his most basic alpha instincts.

He didn't speak, but his actions painted his intentions vividly.

You should fight, you should kick and punch and try to get this man off of you because you do not want his babies.

But your primal, baser brain won't allow you.

Because it's thriving off the Alpha presence, the possibility of pleasing your mate is more important.

The knot at the base of his cock began to swell, a signal of his impending release. As Bucky pushes his knot inside, your whole body tenses, and you begin to tremble as your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him. With a guttural growl, Bucky's body tensed, his hips stilling as he spilled his essence deep inside of you, each pulse of his release a sick twisted mark of ownership. You could feel the warmth spreading within you.

You let out a muted scream, and suddenly you’re shattering all over his cock.

Slick pools as you reach your climax, your walls constricting rhythmically around him as you grind your hips down — and involuntary action of pleasure as you ride it out. You can feel Bucky twitching inside of you, the swell of his knot keeping you locked together to ensure that they are in optimal condition to conceive, his need to give you a baby overriding any other thought in his mind.

You pant, your body is sweaty and weak as you finally begin to come down to earth.

You look at your Alpha, glowing eyes in the dark of night as you try to read him.

"Are you all calm now?" You ask, in a bratty tone.

Looking down at you, Bucky observed you with a mixture of possessiveness and satisfaction. He likes the challenge in your gaze.

Despite your bratty demeanor, Bucky found himself oddly pleased by your feistiness, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, my little wife, all calm now," Bucky drawled, his gravelly voice tinged with satisfaction.

[alastorss]

HIIII so i had an idea for like a reader that's crushing on alastor, and angel dust making jokes about it in front of alastor and basically what would happen once he catches on

Have a lovely day, get good sleep!!!<33 luv ur writing<33

a/n: hello sweets <3 thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has watched you splash your martini all over Angel's face so many times this week, he's almost certain the star is provoking you on purpose just for a free drink.

In the short time he's come to know him, he's learned that if there's one thing Angel Dust is good at—besides looking pretty on film—it's that he can be absolutely shameless.

Alastor remembers, with a twinge of disgust, that the spider had once told him he came with built in reins. That comment kept him seething for hours.

And now, poor you, having fallen into the trap of his intricate web—the Radio Demon would be laughing if he didn't actually feel slightly bad for you. He knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of those comments, after all.

You, unlike your four-armed friend, have a capacity for shame the likes of which have never been seen before. All hot cheeks and wide eyes, lips pulled into a straight, thin line—embarrassment burns in every corner of your expression.

Though, that's probably why Angel has taken such a liking to teasing you.

Here he is again, crawling over the bar to get into your face as soon as Alastor appears in the room. His voice is low and melodic, so quiet the Overlord can't quite make out the words until—

"Look, hun. Your prince charming!"

Alastor raises a brow as he takes his seat next to you at the bar, setting down his newspaper.

"What was that?" He asks, eyes flickering between you and a coy-looking Angel Dust.

"Oh, nothin'. That right, sugar?"

You look nothing but utterly defeated, martini forgotten and abandoned. "Angel..." you mutter in warning. The spider only shrugs and gives you a toothy little grin.

"Hey Smiles," Angel suddenly grabs you by the cheeks and turns your face to look in Alastor's direction. You only blink at each other in surprise. "Cute, eh?"

You quickly smack his hand away from you, swivelling around to glare. "Quit it!"

Angel puts his hands up in mock surrender. He huffs, backing off. "Okay, okay! Fine! You two are unbelievable."

With that, he stalks off to bother Husk instead. You sigh in relief, head hitting the bar counter. For a moment, you completely forget that Alastor is still sitting beside you.

"Care to explain?"

He watches as you nearly jolt out of your skin, amused at how flustered you are from a little teasing. It's rather cute.

"It's nothing!" You sputter, waving your arms around in panic.

But you can't fool Alastor. Not anymore.

It hadn't clicked before—that perhaps there was some merit behind Angel Dust's words. He had gotten so used to empty threats of sexual advances that he had ruled out the possibility that the star was being a little serious for once.

He wasn't exactly subtle, always jumping on the opportunity to make your cheeks burn whenever the Radio Demon was around.

"It didn't sound like nothing," he sings, leaning in closer to you so he can gauge your reaction.

As expected, you nearly leap away from him when he suddenly invades your personal space. He snickers.

"Not you too..." you groan.

"Why, I didn't know you had such a crush on me, darling~"

"You're the worst."

"Ah, and I suppose that's why our dear friend has been teasing you about me all this time? Because I'm the worst, and you hate me?"

He's getting entirely too close. His face is nearly touching yours.

You stare at him in bewilderment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, you manage to stammer out a weak retort.

"You should butt out of other people's business."

"It sounds like it's about to be my business, dear. You know, if you liked me so much, you could have just told me instead of Angel Dust."

"I preferred it when you were just a regular asshole, and not a cocky one!"

"Oh, how you wound me~"

"Shut up!"

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda

[mickyschumacher]

hi!! could u an oscar smut wherein he's fooling with reader, making her supress her moans bcs the walls are thin, but in reality, they were soundproof (like his drivers room post-rough race for ex.) thank uuu

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: silverstone 2024 was a tough one for oscar. he needs a bit of relieving... some reassurance if you will.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), mentions of silverstone 2024 if you couldn't tell, kissing, blowjob, technically unprotected even though it's not oral sex, pussy rubbing (?), fluff, insecure oscar :(

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x girlfriend!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

𝐀/𝐍: ugh loved doing this request! kinda took a bit of creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed it either way♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Oscar hated Silverstone with a fucking passion.

He must say, it was a newfound passion but the enthusiasm he had for it was unparalleled.

He could've won.

His first Grand Prix. His team's home race. It would've been perfect.

But in the end, his pure loyalty and reliance on McLaren let him down. He should've boxed. Fuck, he knew that. Why didn't he just say it?

Oscar couldn't help but give tight smiles to his staff as he ventured towards his room, completely over the briefing they just had. He wasn't in the mood to play nice. Kim Needle, his trainer, was hot on his trail.

Abruptly, he stopped in between the papaya and black corridor, turning to meet the surprised face of his trainer. "Kim, listen, I just need some time alone... if that's alright," Oscar asked timidly, not wanting to be an asshole entirely.

Kim pursed his lips and nodded. "Whatever you need, mate. Just come out when you're done, okay? We'll get through this one."

Oscar nodded in response, giving him a thankful smile before continuing on. Upon opening the door, he couldn't be more relieved at the sight of you worriedly sitting on the small black couch.

"Osc," you said softly, standing up from the couch with a pained smile.

The driver simply returned the gesture, closing the door behind him. He eyed your open arms, laughing internally before welcoming the warm hug.

Oscar bit his lip, trying to prevent the string of sighs coming out but the soothing rubs of your hand on his back made it difficult. He could hear your muffled sorry, apologising for the rough day.

His hands around your waist tightened. "I... fuck, I should've done better," he admitted.

Your eyes widened, immediately pulling away from the comforting embrace, letting his hands still rest on your waist. You held his warm, tired face in your hands, sternly meeting his brown eyes. You could feel Oscar relax in your grasp. "Hey, no, no. Don't do that. You did so well, baby. Just give it some time, hmm? I know it was a shitty move but it's the first time in a while McLaren's had such a fast car–a winning car. No one's going to get this right immediately."

Oscar searched your eyes, feeling your fingers trace the etched in lines of his racing gear across his face. He never knew how you did it. And by 'it,' he meant the way you consoled people. He was secretly jealous of it. How did you always know the right thing to say? God, it was almost as infuriating as it was admirable.

You were worried Oscar had gone down a horrible spiral of some sorts with his unresponsive expression. But much to your surprise, your lips had found an answer before you could even think of one.

Your arms fell to his shoulders, hands hanging around his neck. Oscar's lips, often familiar, were lost in a more passionate haze, pulling you in closer towards him.

You think you were struggling to breathe. You weren't quite sure. You could hear strained breathing. Whether it was you or Oscar was a mystery. There was one thing you were certain of, however. The burning sensation travelling up your spine as his fingers grazed your bare hot skin under your shirt.

You gasped at the coldness of his touch, allowing Oscar to kiss you deeper, accessing your mouth fully with his tongue. A small moan travelled to your ears as your hands reached those brown locks.

You rasped Oscar's name, trying to pull away for some air but it was as if some ravenous monster had captured your boyfriend. Your neck tingled with feel of his lips pressing sloppy kisses down the base, hot breath sending goosebumps up your skin.

"Oscar," you said again, this time covering his lips with your hand. You watched as his lust-ridden eyes flickered to yours, both of your chests heaving desperately for air. You could tell he was wondering why you were stopping him, especially when you were enjoying it so much. "We'll get caught."

Oscar wanted laugh internally. While it may have been your first time trying something out in his driver's room, Oscar had spent one time too many with his hands on his cock, cumming to your name. He knew they were soundproof. God forbid, someone heard private matters or him screaming out of frustration on a bad race.

But you didn't need to know that.

"Guess you'll have to be quiet then. Can you do that for me, baby?"

You blinked blankly, throat dry all of sudden. Without a word, you nodded. Your knees almost buckled at the sinister grin on Oscar's face as he took you by the hand and sat you onto his lap.

Oscar looked up at you, smiling softly while tucking your hair behind your ears. "You look so pretty," he murmured, hands brushing your body ever so slightly. "All for me?"

"All for you," you whispered, pressing your lips onto his neck.

Oscar's head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your sweet time attacking his neck. Your kisses were soft, resisting the urge to mark his neck. All the words Oscar had learned in all his years of living were coiled at his throat. He could never think straight when you glided your lips across his Adam's apple. Nor when he could feel you nestled into his laps, creating bigger problems than he imagined.

You could feel his muscles tense as your hand slid down his shirt, stopping right at his v-line. Oscar opened his eyes, looking at the spot where your hand paused and thighs straddled him. He sucked in a sharp breath, looking at you with a pleading gaze.

You smiled. Under different circumstances, you would tease him. But you couldn't afford to tease. You didn't have the time to. Your hands crept to the waistband of his jeans, pulling down the material along with his boxers.

Oscar let out a low exhale at the feel of cold air brushing his semi-hard cock. He swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth as you sunk to your knees, hand gently grazing the tip of his cock. "Oh fuck," he hissed, eagerly watching you open your mouth to let strings of warm saliva drop onto his cock, hand wrapping around to rub the lube up and down his shaft.

Your tongue swiped the bottom of your lip before pressing a small kiss to his tongue, feeling Oscar's cock twitch in anticipation. Your mouth opened, lips stretching as you hollowed your throat, taking in his cock.

A quiet groan slipped out of Oscar's mouth upon the feel of your warmth spreading around his cock, almost disappearing into your mouth. He couldn't tell what was worse. The way your mouth felt or the way you looked up at him with those eyes.

Oscar's hand travelled to the back of your neck, gathering all your hair in one hand before twirling it around to tighten his grip. He sighed as you opened your throat up further, allowing him to guide his cock. "Such a good girl," he praised.

Your thighs clenched at the praise, holding back your moan. You could feel your head begin to move as he pushed his cock down your throat. You relaxed your cheeks and mouth, taking as much of him as you could.

Oscar averted his eyes from your mouth to your face. God you were just so pretty. Your big glassy eyes, skin flushed with traces of sweat, lips red, soft, and puffy while your fragrance lulled him.

A jolt was elicited out of Oscar's body upon the feel of your hands travelling towards his balls, taking the time to rub them gently as the pace of your mouth began to speed up.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, muscles tensing while the tingling feeling at the pit of his stomach began to bubble. Reluctantly, no matter how insane you were driving him, Oscar pulled you away, heavily breathing. "I need you," he immediately said.

Without too much thinking, you were standing and undoing your own pants, letting Oscar partially pass away as the sight of your wet panties.

Instinctively, Oscar's hands reached for your waist, thumb moving to graze your covered wet folds, satisfied at the jerk of your body as he brushed your clit. He reached to grab his cock before he felt your hand on his wrist.

"Oscar," you called urgently.

"What?" He almost said painfully, knowing very well that you knew he had put off his own climax.

You winced, almost apologetic to what you were about to say. "We don't have a condom."

Oscar blinked at your words, head slumping down. Fuck. Of course... of course you didn't. As much as he loved children and especially if they were with you, he didn't have any idea of them any time soon.

But he did have a better idea.

Oscar snapped his head back up, standing up to lie you down on the couch.

"Osc, what are you–"

"Trust me, this is going to sound stupid and I'm going to feel thirteen all over again, but just trust me."

Before you could respond, you could see Oscar hovering over you with the greediest desperation. You took a sharp breath as he pulled your underwear to the side and hooked his cock underneath, flushed against your folds.

Slowly, rather than pushing into you, he rubbed his cock between your folds, letting the tip of his cock skim your clit.

"Oh fu–" you quickly covered your mouth, moaning into your forearm, teeth biting down on your lip as you remembered those thin walls.

Oscar knew exactly how you felt. It was stupid and almost childish to do but the feeling of his cock against your folds, bordering going in, receiving the vibrations of your convulsing body as he circled your clit drove him to depths of insanity he never knew he had.

He moved to remove your arm, hearing your refusal as he thrust his hips against you. "Let me hear you, baby. It doesn't matter."

You didn't understand what he meant but you couldn't do anything but fall apart, almost weeping at the way his cock felt against your pussy.

"Fuck," you sobbed out, own hips bucking faster as you chased your climax. It was hard, coming in waves while Oscar drove you higher with his thumb on your clit, moving ever so slowly.

"That's it, come on," Oscar cajoled, letting you ride out your high as he restrained himself from cumming right there and then. As much was he wanted to, he really couldn't.

He called your name, bringing you back to reality with his own desperation. You smiled sweetly, opening your mouth as Oscar's hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down his shaft with an urgent speed.

You could hear the loud rasp of Oscar's while his hips stuttered, spilling his warm cum into your mouth. Without wasting a second, his hands travelled to your face and brought your lips to his, tasting himself on his tongue.

"Well done," Oscar said, "I'm proud of you." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your lips as he brought you into a hug.

"Hey! That was my line," you complained, narrowing your eyes playfully making him laugh quietly to himself.

"Thank you though. For making me feel better. Before and well, this," he whispered with a wide smile.

You pursed your lips. "Anything for you, Osc. Just don't think about it too much, okay? I always worry what goes on in that sweet little head of yours."

Oscar laughed again, reaching over to grab your pants. He watched you put a leg into them before you paused, making him raise a brow.

"I thought you said the walls were–"

"Uh, uh," Oscar cut off, gesturing for the second leg of your pants. "Just don't think about it too much," he repeated with a cheeky grin.

You gaped, suddenly clicking two and two together. "Oscar! You little shit!"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[vivgst]

OBSSESED!Valeria

Valeria loves control, it makes her feel calm. It's like a warm blanket on a very cold day, it gives her comfort.

Her personal relationships are about control, not love, at least that's how it was with Alejandro, he loved her much more than she loved him and it was fine with her because that's how it should be.

Even after betraying the army and positioning as the leader of the Las Almas cartel, she continued to adore the idea that she had left her poor lover behind, she spent nights imagining how much Alejandro must miss sleeping next to her and that made her smile.

Until she found out that Alejandro had a new partner and you were quite different from her, you were younger and you always wore all that makeup, you looked weak and she hated you as soon as she knew about you.

Valeria was not in love with Alejandro but she enjoyed knowing that he had not been able to get over her and him being with someone else meant that things had changed.

What did he even see in you?

She didn't know and she became so obsessed with finding the answer that she couldn't stop stalking you. She did it all the time and knew everything about you, Valeria had photos and folders full of information about you, she knew that you went every Tuesday afternoon to have a coffee at the mall, that your work hours had decreased since you were with Alejandro and that on Thursdays you went out with your friends.

After a while of watching your every move the line between hate and desire became so thin that she found herself unable to discern if what she now felt for you had escalated into something completely different than what it used to be.

It became even more difficult when her own mind began to work against her and suddenly she found herself awake although she could have sworn she had fallen asleep minutes ago, but there she was, panting restlessly as she felt – felt you – move, riding her slowly while your hands squeezed her breasts, Valeria felt suffocated, each movement of your hips buried that double-end toy deeper inside her, you looked at her mockingly while she writhed with pleasure and drops of sweat fell all over your body that was numb from all the things you were feeling.

She wanted to regain some control, to push you away from her but like every dream, she didn't have much power to free herself or exercise the free will she had when she was awake so her hands tightened on your hips in a poor attempt to stop your movements, that only served as an incentive for you to start moving faster, your skin slapping against Valeria’s.

You leaned on your forearms to bring your lips closer to hers as you moaned and slowed the movement of your hips once more, the toy was rubbing against her g-spot and Valeria let out a hiss as she tightened her thighs.

She wasn't going to come from having you on top of her riding her, she didn't care how good she felt or how turned on she got just from seeing your breasts bounce every time you jumped on top of her.

However, you had other plans.

You trailed wet kisses from her jaw to her neck and up to her earlobe, nibbling on it gently, Valeria shuddered but did her best to keep fucking quiet.

“Are you shy now?” You spoke hoarsely and she growled, her hands gripping your hips so tight that your skin burned but even that felt good. “No matter how much you try to hide it, you're just as soaked as I am.” You whispered against her ear and pulled away from her to look into her eyes, both of you were panting and the room that Valeria normally hated for being cold was now so hot it was barely bearable.

“How much of a slut you- fuck...” She breathed out and there was real hate behind all the lust in her gaze, she hated you and she hated the way you were making her melt, how much she was loving every touch, every feeling and well… how much she wanted you to keep doing it just like that, driving her crazy while you rode her, she loved it.

And you were so close to making her come, but the universe was against you that night and Valeria woke up gasping, looking everywhere even though she knew very well that you weren't there.

Her body was just too hot and sweat wasn't the only thing that had the bed wet, it was uncomfortable so she got out of bed and went into the bathroom, taking off her clothes and getting into the shower which was cold.

Her body kept shivering and no matter how cold the water was, the heat in the middle of her legs didn't go away. She wanted to put her hand between her thighs and make herself come, she needed it but no, she would cut her hand before doing such nonsense for you, the shower would calm her down.

But it didn't calm her down, nothing did. The days went on and her mind kept coming back to you, wishing that dream came true even though she hated to admit it.

Valeria remembered it so vividly... now she couldn't stop stalking you even though deep down she knew that nothing would happen between you two.

At least that was what Valeria thought, she could know a lot things but she was oblivious to the fact that Alejandro was a tool for you, a toy. She was also oblivious to the fact that all your plans took shape when you started to feel watched.

Finally she had noticed you.

[icarryitin]

Cross the Line

spencer reid/gn afab!reader

reader is still more or less a blank slate but i wrote this w my fellow thick girlies in mind, love you🧡 have fun defiling a sofa you whores🫡

(this is NOT a part of Can You…? but there is a new part coming next week so !!!)

masterlist

word count: 4.3k // warnings: 18+ pls this is straight up porn, afab reader bc work with what you’ve got, unprotected PIV and all the trimmings including fingering and a sneaky blowjob, too many feelings for something i meant to just be sexy

summary: Your friendship with Spencer reaches breaking point, and there’s no going back after this.

“This is a really bad idea.”

Oh, don’t you know it. But Spencer isn’t pulling back from you – still very much in your space for a man claiming that he shouldn’t be there in the first place.

Although he’s not touching you, not yet, the tension in the room is stretched so thin that you’re worried it’ll snap. There’s no going back after that. It’s all so fragile, this delicate thing between you, and you’re afraid that one wrong move will shatter it all beyond repair. The heavy rain of the summer thunderstorm pounding against your living room window does nothing to relieve the stifling pressure in the room. You want to tell him that you agree, it’s a very bad idea. You want to tell him goodnight, you’ll see him on Monday, you want to wave him towards the stairs of your apartment building and shut the door on him. Except no sound comes out when you open your mouth. Because you’re wound so tight, only by his proximity, by the warmth that leeches over you from having him so fucking close.

You close your mouth again, clear your throat, and frown at the tiniest twitch of his lips. Smug bastard isn’t a side of him you see often. It suits him, annoyingly.

It takes a gargantuan effort to peel your gaze from his mouth, to lock your eyes on his with an intensity he doesn’t expect. To his credit, he doesn’t falter all that noticeably, the catch of his breath only detectable by the barest shudder of his shoulders – but it’s nice to know you hold the same level of power over him as he does you. Maybe not nice, maybe a little bit dangerous, maybe a little bit like standing too close to the edge of a cliff. Adrenaline thundering through your veins, nerve endings on fire, daring one of you to take the leap. Spencer caves first, the slightest skim of his fingers against yours, and it’s game over.

You have no choice but to kiss that stupid little smile right off his face.

He’s taken by surprise when you surge forward to close the gap between your faces, stumbling a little with the force of it, but he catches you. Of course he does, just like always. This moment has been months in the making – eleven months, nine days, and six hours to be exact. Which he always is. From the second you waltzed into the bullpen with your smile and your eyes and your shiny new badge, and him? He has three PHDs to his name, thinking about a fourth, and yet even just the smell of your laundry detergent can render his mind completely blank of anything but you. He should hate it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes forward, pressing his lips to yours with fervour. All he can wonder is why it’s taken so long.

Kissing Spencer Reid is everything. You could do it forever. You probably won’t be that lucky, but you would if he let you. And, while his aversion to touch has never really seemed to apply to you, it’s as though he’s abandoned it completely – the thing about kissing Spencer Reid, you find, is that he’s all hands.

On your cheeks, your jaw, the back of your neck. Sliding down to grip at your upper arms, your elbows. He tugs you in even closer by them until there’s not a breath of air between your bodies. Until he can wind his arms around you completely. Your hands have trailed up to rest on his chest, fairly content to bask in the heat of him and the stuttering of his heartbeat under your fingertips. But it’s like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you. Just that he wants to leave no stone unturned, meticulously cataloguing every inch of your body by touch alone. He probably is, knowing him, committing you to memory. The thought makes you burn, as he grasps at your waist like his life depends on it. He’s not close enough – will never be close enough, you think. His lips part for a moment, just to catch his breath before he dives back in, and you seize the opportunity to lick along the reddened line of them. No, you can’t climb into his body and live there, but sticking your tongue in his mouth is a close second. You’ll just have to live with that.

Spencer’s gasp in response to the intrusion almost makes you draw back, almost. But you can’t go anywhere because he’s on you again, more enthusiastic than he ever was before, backing you up into your apartment. One hand abandons its post on your hip to turn the lock and slide the security chain into place on the front door – safety first, the action is hotter than you’d like to admit – and then it’s back with a vengeance until you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Feet shuffle, hands fumble, you almost take the both of you down when the floorboards are interrupted by the lip of the living room rug. But the stumble isn’t worth pulling your face off of Spencer’s, not even for a second. Not until you have to manoeuvre around the coffee table to find the couch anyway.

You mumble a quiet ouch against his lips when the wooden corner of it digs into the back of your knee, and the chuckle you get in response makes your heart grow so big you’re worried it’ll burst your ribcage at the seams. Noses knocking into one another, you turn your face to scowl at the offending item of furniture, but a gentle touch to your jaw coaxes your eyes back to his. And you get it.

This is what everyone means when they say that he looks at you.

Spencer’s eyes are a shade darker in the low light, focused solely on your face. Your lips, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, he’s studying you like there’s nothing else in the world worth looking at so closely. As if he doesn’t spend most of his working day looking at your face. As if it’s not enough. Even if you weren’t a profiler, the reverence he seems to regard you in would give him away. It’s not the heady pressure of the rolling thunder that’s making you sweat - it’s that look. Because it’s the one you get all the time, reserved just for you. Okay, maybe you had noticed, but you’ve always put it down to wishful thinking. Always had an excuse. It feels more intimate than sticking your tongue in his mouth, looking at him like this. So open, so vulnerable.

He lets you back him up, this time, taking the careful step or two backwards without breaking the eye contact until he can feel the fabric of your couch against his legs. Soft, even through the fabric of his trousers. Spencer expects you’ll feel much the same. There’s no struggle for the upper hand in the quiet of the room. Just the two of you, tentatively taking a step out into the unknown side by side. He lowers himself to sit, couch cushions giving way to his body exactly as softly as he expected, lacing his fingers through yours to take you with him. He doesn’t pull, but you follow him all the same. You let him guide you, settling a thigh either side of his own, balanced carefully on his lap. He won’t let you fall.

“Hi.” His throat is dry - his voice lower, more gravelly than he’s expecting, and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to catch his eyebrows before they can jerk up in surprise.

Your laugh is mesmerising, music to his ears. It washes over him as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks, smoothing his eyebrows with your thumbs.

“Hi,” Your own shaky tone betrays you, just a little, “You okay?”

He’s nodding even as he leans in to kiss you, to inhale you, to drown in you again.

Long fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and the shuddering groan that escapes your lips is absolutely involuntary, but Spencer swallows it without a second thought. Your hands are tight in his hair as his grip wanders to your hips and squeezes – you can’t help but grind down into his lap, feel the hardness of him beneath you. And suddenly, making out like horny teenagers isn’t enough. You have to pull back, however reluctantly, though you don’t stray far.

“Spencer,” You’re breathless, eyes still closed, lips still brushing his with every syllable, “I need you.”

The streetlight shining through the raindrops on the window casts a glow behind your head, Spencer’s heavy lidded eyes fanning it out like a lens flare in a film – like a halo. He’s always thought you had one.

“You have me, you’ve always had me. Are you sure?” He wants to cringe at the question, sure that it’ll send you flying out of his lap, but he has to be certain. He has to know that this isn’t stress relief after the case, that it’s not because he’s right in front of you, that your insides churn every time you look at him the way his tie themselves into knots over you. Your responding smile is fond, one hand sliding down from his hair to swipe your index finger down the length of his nose and he can’t help the upturn of his own lips. In spite of it all, his anxiety dissolves completely, withering and dying under your sincere gaze.

“I’m sure.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

The absence of his hold on you is startling, goosebumps raising on your hips the moment his warm hands move to the buttons of your shirt. To be fair, you’re not much better yourself, already tugging at the knot of his tie until you can slip it over his head. Somewhere in the midst of scrambling fingers and wriggling stiff fabric out of waistbands, you end up buttoning your shirt to his, getting tangled in the both of them when you start wrestling the thing off of his shoulders.

It breaks the tension in the room; the stakes don’t seem quite as high when you’re both wrapped up in your shirts, giggling. Spencer’s dexterous fingers find the culprit, one of your buttons caught in the fastening of one of his, and release it. White and burgundy cotton falling away to reveal you to each other. Dishevelled, grinning, absolutely at ease with one another’s closeness. He looks like he wants to say something else but, whatever it is, he holds it back. You don’t know if things will go beyond tonight, but it’d be worth the mountain of HR paperwork to see him this free even just once more. With anyone else, you might be embarrassed - but this is Spencer.

Spencer, who knows you.

Spencer, who has seen you laugh and cry and scream. You’ve celebrated together, fretted together, grieved together. He’s seen you on your absolute best days, your absolute worst. There’s nothing you’d want to hide from him, so you don’t shy away when he leans forward to latch his lips onto your neck. When he skims his fingers across the skin of your collarbone and leaves a trail of heat and goosebumps behind all at the same time. In much the same way that he preens at your touch, he seems to lean into your hands as you swipe them along his shoulders and down the planes of his chest. Something both known and unknown slots into place. You know what it is, you’re fairly confident he knows what it is, but neither of you will voice it. You don’t think it needs to be. You both know, and that’s enough for now.

At least you don’t get tangled up in anything else, although your jeans fight to the last as they get tugged over your bent knees. You haven’t got the patience to shimmy your underwear off, mostly because he’s already got his hands on you, fingers trailing between your skin and the elastic at your hips. So he’s a tease, now that makes sense.

Lightning fractures the night outside of your darkened window at the same moment Spencer slips his hand down below the elastic of your underwear. His fingers are cold against you, squashed between your weight and his lap, but he manages to swipe them through your folds decisively enough for you to shudder. You’ve already soaked through the cotton, the anticipation had begun the moment he offered to walk you home with that look. Every step since then has only added to your arousal, and it takes no effort at all for him to begin circling your clit with his fingertip. Delicate, deliberate. He’s making you squirm on purpose, wallowing in every whine that escapes your lips and every one you hold back. Your forehead drops to his shoulder as he presses a little more firmly, beginning to alternate between slow circles and dipping his fingers down to tease at your entrance.

You’re so turned on, you think you might die. Genuinely. You’re half convinced that you’re winding closer and closer to a heart attack with every swipe of the good doctor’s fingers against you, that you’ll seize up and go into cardiac arrest at any moment. You need him to do something. You’re teetering on the brink of no return, you need him to push you.

“Spencer.” You breathe as he finally, finally, slides his fingers home inside of you. His thumb takes its place over your clit, digits working gently but relentlessly in tandem with one another.

“I know,” He replies softly, “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You can only push your face into his neck, whining in harmony with another crash of thunder from the heavens - you know how they feel. Only your crescendo is still being held at arm's length by the man underneath you. It’s rude, actually. Or hot, knowing he’s so focused on you and your pleasure that everything else has stopped existing to him. You’re not sure which option you’d lean towards. Tears start to sting at your lash line, of frustration, of overstimulation, of pleasure. You’re not sure. At least he notices when one solitary drop escapes to slide over his sternum, trailing down his naked chest. And then he doubles down, you’re not ready for it.

He plays you like a violin until you’re writhing, squirming, panting, until you can’t keep still for even a second. Just to show you that he could have done, this whole time. There’s no warning, no siren, no flashing lights or emergency broadcast - you’re cresting the wave before you even really know what’s happening. Nails digging into his shoulders, hips grinding down of their own accord, beads of sweat breaking out in your hairline. It’s downright cruel that it’s taken so long for you to gather the courage for making a move. Distantly, somewhere in your hazy mind, you hope you haven’t hurt him. At least you had the presence of mind to clamp your mouth shut rather than sinking your teeth into his neck. Another time, maybe.

Your faculties come back to you, slowly but surely, although you don’t find yourself any less insatiable than you were before your jeans found a home on the floor. Spencer catches your lips in a gentle kiss, all too innocent considering he’s pulling a very wet hand out of your underwear at the same time. You can’t pull your eyes away when he pulls back to hold it between your faces, just to watch the glisten of them in the dull light, and runs his tongue up the length of his middle finger. It’s hypnotising. You chase him, knocking his hand out of the way to pull his face to yours again. There’s no air between you, skin on skin, as you kiss him for all he’s worth in the darkness of your living room. The taste of you lingers in his mouth, you don’t mind it. Not if it means you can inhale his every breath. And then, there’s the other thing. It won’t be ignored any further, although you’re sure Spencer would be more than happy to forego his own pleasure, if the blissed out look in his eye is anything to go by.

Still, selfishly, you want to see.

One careful press of your hips into his has his eyes rolling back, head following to rest on the back of the couch. You don’t have the time to mourn his lips against yours, next mission already on track as you let your fingers wander beneath the elastic of his own under. He inhales sharply at the touch, head shooting back up, and locks eyes with you. There’s a challenge in there, somewhere under the apprehension of your next move. You pull your fingers away from him, elastic snapping against his hips, and rake his hair back from his face. Your relationship with Spencer has long since evolved past the need for words, so he knows what you mean when you look at him so carefully - it’s his choice. Another beat, another breath, and he smiles. He nods softly. His face scrunches when you lean forward to press a light kiss on the tip of his nose. It’s all far too innocent considering your hands are skimming back down to breach the band of his underwear, sliding underneath just enough to pull him out and - oh.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were into me.” The joke escapes you before you have a chance to stop it. He’s so hard it must be painful. The tip is flushed pink, giving way to smooth skin and ridged veins - you want him in your mouth. But there’s a nagging throb between your legs, less a want and more a need.

“I’d like to be.”

Your bark of laughter lights up the whole room, the city, the world. Maybe it’s a bit soon, but he wants to hear you laugh like that every day for the rest of his life. He wants to be the reason for it. God, he loves you. That’s what it is, ultimately. He wonders if you can see it in his face, the way he’s watching you, as your laughter dies but your easy smile remains. He isn’t nervous anymore. He doesn’t know why he ever was in the first place, he wants this - wants you, desperately. The decision is made when he grips at your hips again, pulling you up ever so gently onto your knees to hover above him. You pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, the chilled air that hits your slick makes you shudder involuntarily, as your other hand grips him gently to guide him. Spencer lowers you onto him slowly, eyes steady on your face.

It’s moments like this that he’s grateful for the willpower he’s cultivated over the years - because, the moment his cock hits your heat? When the head of him slips into you, when you hold yourself there for a moment, and when you steadily start to work yourself up and down? He’s done for, absolutely gone, already teetering on the edge of oblivion. You take a little more of him every time you sink down again, breathing quickening, until you can seat yourself flush in his lap. A sharp gasp escapes you, punching out of your lungs at the intrusion and he seizes the opportunity to surge forward. He kisses you deeply, a newfound fire burning in the pit of his stomach, and his grip on you turns bruising when you return the passion. Slowly, deeply, he starts to grind you down onto him, swallowing every moan and groan and whimper you let slip.

Though your movements stay steady, he’s hurtling towards his end far sooner than he wants to. Your fingers tangle in his hair, lips on his - not kissing anymore, just panting into each other’s mouths. A sheen of sweat is starting to develop along both of your bodies. Slick skin sliding together, and it feels so good. You feel so good. Hot and wet and tight around him, your scent in his nose, it’s all so overstimulating and nowhere near enough all at the same time. And he starts mumbling it all, tongue loosened by the pleasure, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Soft praises, whines, utter gibberish about how good you feel. He can’t stop, even when you giggle and press butterfly kisses to the words as they leave his lips. He wants to help you let go again, he wants to feel you squeeze around his cock the same way you did around his fingers, but he hasn’t got the presence of mind to do it. Not while he’s hanging over the edge the way he is.

A much more rational part of his mind, somewhere in the back, reminds him that he’s forgone the one cardinal rule of high school sex ed classes. In the spontaneous haste of it all, neither of you thought about a condom. He’s clean, obviously. He trusts you to be clean, obviously. But there’s still the question of where. Because he’s dangerously close and there’s going to come a point where it’s too late to ask. He doesn’t even realise he’s asked the question, in the middle of his mumbled monologue, until you’re answering him with your own question.

“Can I choose?” You interrupt his rambling with a wicked glint in your eye. In all honesty, you’re sure you could ask him anything in this moment, and his answer would be yes. Though, it turns out he’s only got the capacity to nod an affirmative.

“Oh my God…”

That’s all you get when you pull off of him suddenly, sinking to your knees on the carpet in front of him. Whatever it was that might have followed is cut off abruptly by your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

He’s right on the edge, that much is obvious, it won’t take much - and there’s nothing more you want right now than to thoroughly unravel this man. Usually so put together, buttoned up, absolutely falling to pieces under your touch. While he’s a comfortable thickness, you’re not up to trying to swallow the length of him. Frankly, neither of you have the patience to torture him with the preparation it would take, not today at least. So you settle for wrapping your lips around the head, eyes locked on his furrowed brow as he watches you, and suck. Every swipe of your tongue over him drags another groan, gasp, whine of your name. It’s dangerous information, knowing how he sounds when he’s like this. You’re not sure you’ll be able to think of anything else for the rest of your life. Looking him in the eye over the next round table is going to be interesting, to say the least. It only takes one more swirl of your tongue over him to open the floodgates.

You swallow down every last drop he gives you, warm and tangy but not unpleasant, as his spine curves towards you. Another breathless chuckle, and he strokes a finger down the side of your face when you pull off of him with a satisfying pop. Your tongue pokes out automatically, just to prove to him that you did in fact take the lot - just to watch his eyes roll back in his head again.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Spencer’s talking to himself more than he is you, as he hauls you back up and into his lap. Dick softening slowly between you, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you again, to swipe his tongue through the remnants of himself on your lips.

“I’ve been around a while, thanks for noticing.” You’re joking, nipping at his jaw, shifting as the sticky mess between your legs begs you for a quick shower before bed. The amusement on your tongue dies when you open your eyes, to see him watching you again.

“Trust me,” He’s looking at you so earnestly, you’re worried you might cry, “I noticed you a long time ago.”

It’s early when you wake - when the world is bathed in that shade of blue that only seems to exist just before the sun rises. You’re warm. Tethered to the earth by the set of arms wrapped snugly around your middle, by the steady heartbeat beneath the chest where you rest your head. Spencer isn’t awake, not really, not yet. But he shifts as you snuffle in closer under the duvet and tighten your grip in the old Academy t-shirt he’d swiped from your closet. A soft press of lips against your forehead and you sigh contentedly, more than happy to let the morning waste away. Everything else can wait.

Or at least, you want to let it wait - the blaring ringtone of your work phone in the living room puts a relative damper on that particular plan.

“Let it ring.” Comes a tired voice from somewhere above your head. Craning your neck, you spot him blinking and bleary eyed in the morning light, and take a moment to savour it. Him. He turns his gaze to you, tired as it is, and smiles softer than you’ve ever seen. It’s unspoken, a silent agreement made just before sunrise in your bed. Whatever this is, you’re in it together. So you tug the neckline of the t-shirt down, just far enough to plant a kiss in the hollow of his throat before dragging yourself from his warmth to hunt down your screeching phone.

You’re twisting your key in the front door when he plucks up the courage to ask the looming question.

“Are we telling them, or not yet?” Watching fingers tighten around the strap of his messenger bag has your mind hurtling back to the night before, and exactly what those fingers were doing. You shrug, reaching over to untangle his anxious grip and loop his hands through yours. A smile, bright as the rising sun, breaks out on Spencer’s face. You can’t help but mirror it when you answer him.

“That depends on who you want to win the betting pool.”

“There’s a pool?”

fun fact the inspiration for this was i wanted to sit in spencer reid’s lap so now we all get to sit in spencer reid’s lap you’re welcome🧡

[anyydidi]

Okay, I might be crazy, or someone might have already pointed it out (after all, I am sighs a new fan), but hear me out on this.

Am I the only one who kinda compares the relationship between Gideon and Mabel to Billford?

I feel like they are the easiest way to show that you can agree that Billford is indeed canon, while still acknowledging all the terrible things Bill has done to Ford.

To be completely honest, my focus is more on the similarities between Gideon and Bill, than Mabel and Ford. I'm sure I could find some, but let's focus on the two that are more prominent.

Gideon is the perfect example when you want to point out that Bill has "loved" (in quotes, since people like Bill or Gideon (till Weirdmaggedon) aren't capable of real love) Ford even through all he has done to him in the past and in the present.

We know that since the introduction of Gideon, he had this incredible obsession with Mabel. Instantly he wanted her to be his and would go to great lengths to get her. He wasn't afraid to lie and manipulate. He wasn't afraid to hurt her through her own brother. When he didn't, in fact, get her for himself, he turned on her and her entire family. Now, his obsession stayed persistent. He still claimed to love her, even though he was ready and literally planning to rid her of her home and family. He prioritised his own selfish goals in obtaining the Mystery Shack and power, than her, well, welfare. He also wasn't opposed to physically hurting her on multiple occasions. Yes, he did always give her a chance to join him by his side, but the second she refused, he'd try to hurt her, or worse, just straight up kill her alongside her family. Remind you of someone?

The point I'm trying to make is that, while Billford is on a whole another level, these two relationships are kind of similiar. Dare I say parallels? I don't know.

The differences are that Mabel has never fallen for Gideon's flattery and did not take his bullshit, while Ford obviously has fallen and taken Bill's. Gideon at the end did switch up and redeem himself by finally seeing love for what it truly is and put Mabel over his own selfish wants, while Bill stayed on his path and was more content to torture Ford than give up his centuries-old plan to dominate the universe.

Bill might have adored in the past, probably still adored Ford in some way till his death, even though he was incredibly abusive towards him. The line between love and hate is incredibly thin, and can get mixed up on multiple occasions. Gideon hurt Mabel, while still claiming that he loved her and Bill probably did the same with Ford. For Bill, Ford was a plaything, a pet. But children can still care for their playthings and owners can care for their pets, while throwing them away in the end when they cross their path. Bill had tried to keep Ford by his side, but alas, Ford truly did not want his world to become a playground for an interdimensional being, so he crossed Bill's path. Bill had his priorities sorted, and his number one spot was taken by his dreams of domination, so he threw Ford away, which might have hurt a little (maybe even a lot, who knows), but he was still a meaning to an end.

So, this is my surprisingly long rant on how the people who claim that there is no way that Bill and Ford might have had something more intimate going on in the past, when Bill has hurt and wronged Ford on multiple occasions, do NOT understand toxic love!! And I am showing that through a strange relationship between children!

[gtgbabie0]

✧gorgeous distraction✧

{James trying his best to study while you distract him}

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“Knock it off” James tries so hard to be serious meekly pushing your shoulder, you watch with a teasing smirk as the crease between his brows wobbles and a small chuckle escapes his supple lips, that he tries so hard to press into a thin line to show how ‘unimpressed’ he his, and he hates to admit it but you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

James could never truly be mad at you, you’re his everything and he tells you so about ten thousand times a day, so he doesn’t mind much when you press ticklish kisses against his jaw and to that sensitive part just behind his ear, while he’s trying to study, his books splayed across your bed and he pretends to more interested in them than you.

He always gets this fleeting feeling in his chest whenever he’s around you and it flutters to his stomach leaving him all giddy inside, you drive him mad in the best way possible.

Especially when your gentle fingers play with the curly ends of his hair that sit against his neck, the way your cold knuckles graze against his warm skin, he thinks he just might end up going insane.

You giggle watching as he not so sneakily glances at you, a small smile dances on his lips, and you know he can’t keep his composure for long, “James… James, give me attention” you whisper in his ear as you continue press kisses along his jaw while your gentle fingers still twirl through his hair, with the hope that he might just put away the scattered books and paper tonight.

He wants to be stubborn, he wants to regain some kind of control over himself when it comes to you, but how can he? When you smell like home and your comforting warmth is radiating from you inviting him like a Sirens melody.

"I'll kick you out" he threatens, as you blow cold air against his ear with a giggle, while he scribbles notes down on some paper.

"It's my room, love" you remind him, your head resting against his shoulder

"That won't stop me from locking you out, Love" he smiles as you let out a huff and he thinks he's finally won, that you might have gotten bored, but he's proven otherwise.

Your hands playfully tug at the hem of his sweater nimble fingers dipping under the soft weaved fabric as they gently traverse his lower abdomen, and you feel his muscles tense under your teasing touch as he lets out a breathy giggle that borders on a gasp and you relish in the soft sound.

“Oh!— alright, enough you win, you win” he smiles picking up the old tattered books on transfiguration and chucking them carelessly, you gasp watching them skid across the old wooden floor.

“What did the poor books do to you?” You giggle as he scoffs at you, his hands pull you into his lap and your heart feels so full and loved as his gentle fingers trace mindless patterns on the top of your thighs, and you lean to press a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

his hands settle against your hips, "If I fail I'm blaming you" he says, chuckling as you feign offense with an overdramatic shocked expression.

“Not my fault you're so pretty James” you whisper, hands cupping his warm cheeks, and pride blooms in your chest at the redness that tints his cheeks, "Just completely and utterly irresistible"

He’s a blushing mess and uncontrollable toothy grin splays across his face, his lips wobble as he tries to stop it, and it makes you giggle, “Well... I got nothing on you Angel” he admits with a wink and you roll your eyes at his comment leaning down to capture his soft red lips in a loving kiss that leaves him breathless, and he never wants to let you go.

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☾⋆AN// *BOOM* I wrote this instead of my essay, hope you enjoyed lovelies! <3 {{requests are open!}}

[amyelevenn]

the knife cuts both ways

PAIRING; Max Verstappen x driver!reader

SUMMARY; a pre-race argument between you and Max has harsher consequences than either of you were anticipating.

WARNINGS; talks of a car accident, somewhat graphic descriptions of the aftermath. angst no comfort

A/N; yes this is the cliche reader gets into an accident after an argument but I couldn't help myself, it's a canon event okay!

1.2k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

Max’s words just replayed in your mind, over and over and over and over, with no sign of ever running themselves thin.

“Your legacy will never live up to mine. I’m sorry I’m the better driver. You aren’t even in competition with me!”

You were sure he had said more, but you had tuned out what he was saying in hopes of having something left to salvage.

Picking at your lip to distract yourself proved ineffective – it had started bleeding, and you were still unable to take your mind off of it all. It didn’t help that you hadn’t even bothered to speak to him, or even go near his vicinity, after the matter. It did however help having motorhomes on complete opposite ends of the paddock, being able to easily navigate away from him and his team. You were still way too mad, needing much more than a few hours to cool off from the heat of the argument.

It would have to wait until the end of the race, at the least. If not, until the pair of you had flown home together, away from the prying eyes and ears of the paparazzi and fans alike. You weren’t even public with each other, so you were sure the media would have a field day with the current championship leader being in a screaming match with his only female colleague.

You hated how easily a small part of you wanted to give in to him, to just let it all breeze over just to be in his arms again, despite the horrible things that came out of his mouth.

If it wasn’t him, it would have been someone else, you try to rationalize. Everyone was thinking it, he was just the one who had the guts to verbalize it. But a small, minuscule part of you will always know that someone who loved you would never speak of you like that; no one who had any ounce of regard for your emotions would treat you the way he did.

But it was the fact that he chose to single out you.It was you who isn’t in competition with him. Not your team, or your car, you. Your legacy who would never live up to his, the 3-time world champion.

The whole of that Saturday night and Sunday morning had gone by in a blur. You weren’t even sure how you got in your car, fully equipped and watching the red lights go out as the race began.

Of course he would ruin the race that you’d be starting the highest you had before. In fact, that was the basis of your whole argument; you being proud of making it to Q3 and placing P8, but him complaining about barely making pole.

It was a massive achievement for you and your team – points weren’t something you exactly walked by every day, and you had the opportunity to score big here. But something about the importance of this race for you didn’t comprehend in Max’s mind.

The first couple laps went by smoothly, taking a couple overtakes under you belt, lined up in a solid P5. You see a Red Bull in your mirror, and before you can even ask, a voice in your ear informs you of “Perez, 1.1 behind.”

Weaving in and out of the chicanes, you get constant updates of the rocket slowing inching closer and closer to you, until you are hit with “Perez, 0.8 behind with DRS. Need you to push here.”

You were a good driver. A good team player, who followed the orders you were given to a T. so how you ended up snagging the back of the Red Bull as he overtook you was beyond you.

“Holy shit!”

That’s all you could say right before you black out; not something prophetic or memorable, but a base utterance steeped in a casual strain of effort to recentre the car. In the fleeting seconds that the words take form and flight, your brain cycles through a million images, memories plastered on a spinning reel. The blur of your life becomes a recognizable whole. You have always been your worst enemy and saviour.

Hurtling towards the concrete barrier, your brakes fail. You pray to deity above that you don’t even believe in for some kind of salvation; to make it out of this burning wreckage alive.

Your vision disappears for what feels like a millisecond, but there is too much chaos in too little time to be able to determine just how long it was. Your hearing was obliterated, the silence deafening and all consuming, forcing you into battling the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. You couldn’t move, even when you tried your very hardest – no amount of adrenaline would be able to push your paralyzed limbs enough to climb out of the crumpled mess once known as your car.

A hand frantically tapping on your helmet was the only way you knew you had survived; that there was still some life inside you, persevering in a time of desperation. You still had some feeling, which was a good sign.

But that was the breaking point, pushing you over the edge and taking Death’s hand.

Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A red flag, around turn 1. He was just there, so it would’ve had to have been someone close behind him. He slows around the last couple corners, the rest of the grid trailing behind.

“Are they okay?” he asks, as if it was some routine he had to follow rather than someone’s safety at stake. The lack of response he receives snaps him out of his clinical nature, even sparking a small bit of fear at losing a friend.

“Who is it, GP?”

“Get the car back to the garage, then we will talk.”

If that didn’t set Max’s nerves of fire, nothing else would.

He doesn’t reckon he has ever gotten out of his car quicker, fast to rip of his helmet to get a better view of the track marshals hailing over the ambulance. Their blaring sirens could be heard from the pitlane, a sound that sent a collective chill down everyone’s spines.

Perez was the one to tell him that it was your car. he was telling the crew how you clipped his back tire, but his car seemed to not have any damage. You had taken the brunt of the collision, if you could even call it that.

It was almost as if Max could feel the blood drain from his face at the mention of your name. Hearing it out loud confirmed his biggest nightmare – you were out there, hurt and surrounded by strangers thinking that he hated you.

He wanted to throw up, feeling beyond sick to his stomach at the thought of losing you before he had the chance to reconcile with you. He couldn’t afford to not have you by his side – even though you were private, you were his person – the love of his life, who he was watching die in front of his eyes.

How had he managed to get himself in this situation?

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

[vodika-vibes]

Enemies to Loves?? Character doesn't matter I just need my Enemies to lovers fill for my fourth wing hangover

Thin Line

Summary: After the rise of the Empire, you, an unwilling Soldier of the GAR, is reassigned to being Crosshair's handler. You hate him, and you think he hates you. Turns out there's a very thin line between hate and love.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 2272

Warnings: Reader has a toxic family

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I was going to do one of the many event requests that I got, but I got it with inspiration for this, and I love Crosshair, so...ta-dah~

You never wanted to join the military.

You were always a bit too…soft for military life. A bit too quick to tears, a bit too sensitive, not quite forceful enough in your everyday life.

You wanted to be an author, or a teacher, or maybe both. The last thing you wanted was to join the military.

But your parents pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

And you’ve never been very good at telling them no. It’s just easier to do what they want. And they wanted you to continue the family tradition of military service.

So you did. You gave up your dreams, as small as they were, to make your family happy. That’s what family is supposed to do, right?

To be fair, you thought that you were going to get kicked out within six months. You’re really, really not made for this lifestyle. And you probably should have been, but your father was an Admiral and your mother was a Doctor at the most prestigious military hospital in the galaxy, and your older siblings were incredibly high ranked in their respective branches…and you just weren’t.

And then the GAR was dissolved and remade into the Imperial Army, and you thought, now. Now for sure they’ll have to discharge me. 

But still, still they kept you. And, much to your blanket distress, it turns out that you're more competent than most of the people you work with. 

Which is exactly how you ended up in your current situation.

The first couple of months after the Imperial Army took the place of the GAR were hectic, but as things settled, you found yourself getting reassigned. You are now, officially, Crosshair’s handler.

It’s quite possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Are you incapable of following orders?” You ask the much taller man standing across from you, his arms are folded across his chest and he has a smug smirk on his face.

“Not so good at following orders, sweetheart.”

“Then maybe I should trade you in for someone who is,” You counter.

“You won’t. No one is as good as I am.” Crosshair is the best sniper in the Imperial army, and he knows it, damn him.

“You’re an arrogant asshole,” You say pointedly, and his smirk widens, “Fine. You did, somehow, manage to complete your mission. So, well done, I guess. But you’re stinking up my office, so get out.”

He just leans against the doorframe, “My hot water rations.”

You exhale slowly through your nose, “Crosshair, have I ever limited the amount of hot water you can use in the showers?”

“I’m just waiting for you to actually turn into as much of an asshole as you like to pretend to be, sweetheart.”

“Get.”

And then he’s gone, allowing the door to slam shut behind him. How, exactly, he managed to slam a sliding door is beyond you, but you don’t care enough to try and figure it out.

You’re pretty sure you hate him. From the top of his silver head to the tips of his toes.

He’s arrogant and pig-headed, and somehow managed to turn something that was a traditional sweet pet name into an insult. And he seems to take joy out of making your life more miserable, which is something of an achievement in and of itself. 

But, even so, you would never replace him with someone else.

Because he actually is as good as he thinks he is. And he does complete every mission that you assign him, and there’s never an excessive loss of life, which you appreciate. 

You push your fingers through your hair, and flicker your gaze across the piles of paperwork covering your desk, and then you sigh. 

You really should have told your parents to kriff off all those years ago, and just gone to school to be a teacher.

Still, if wishes were fishes-

You sigh deeply, and pull your hair out of the strict bun to pull it into a looser tail at the base of your head, and then reach for the tallest pile of paperwork that needs to be finished. 

And then your holo chirps that there’s an incoming call.

You glance at your datapad, and check the number that’s calling in, and then you groan when you see the very familiar number flashing at the top of the screen.

Your Dadmiral is calling.

You sigh one more time, and then press the button on your datapad to answer the call.

“Hi dad,” You say, flickering your gaze to the holo for a split moment, before focusing back on your paperwork.

“Hey kiddo,” Your father is an older man, with hair that’s long since gone gray and a beer belly that he’d have to work at to get rid of. You also know, though you can’t see it through the holo, that his nose is reddened by years of alcohol abuse. “Your hair isn’t in regulation, kid.”

“Ah, so you’re calling as my admiral rather than my dad. Good to know.” You reply tiredly, “What do you need, sir?”

He gazes at you severely, and then sighs, “I need to talk to you about the Dantooine mission.”

You lift your gaze, “Dantooine? That was four months ago.”

“Yes, I know.”

You sigh and open your desk to grab the file he’s talking about, “I know I filled out my paperwork properly-”

“Yes, you’ve always been very diligent about that. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” He shifts so that he’s standing at attention, “It has come to my attention that your sniper only killed the men on the list.”

“...yes?”

“Why did he not kill the other members of the cell?”

“...because they weren’t on the list of people to kill.” You reply flatly, “He followed the orders he was given to the letter.”

Your father sighs, “I recognize that. But I hoped that you realized that what the orders meant was that he was supposed to kill all of them.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Hm…I’ll make sure that your orders are more clear from now on.” Your father says, “Now…how are you?”

“Tired. And busy. So if there’s nothing else-?”

“Ah, yes. Right. Well then, I’ll talk to you later.” The call disconnects and you sigh again. If Crosshair knew just how much shit you had to deal with to keep him safe and alive…

Well, he’d likely never believe you. 

No matter. You’ll keep doing what you’re doing because it’s the right thing to do. Not because you like him or anything.

Life continues for you as it always has.

You move from planet to planet, chasing these terrorists. You give Crosshair a list of people he needs to kill, and then you fill out paperwork and move on.

He’s still a dick to you, and you tolerate everything as best as you can.

Still, every now and then, something different happens. 

Today, for example, you have a date. 

A slightly older soldier asked you out to dinner, and honestly, you need to get out and do something before you rip your hair out, or have a nervous breakdown.

So here you are, dressed in a casual dress and some nice-ish heels with your hair loose for the first time in ages, when the door to your office slides open, “Hey, so-” Crosshair stops mid sentence as he steps into your office, and then he smirks and whistles, “Well now, I didn’t know you were actually a woman under that uniform.”

“You’re a pig, and also, don’t you knock?”

“Guilty, and no.” His gaze drags down your body, an almost lecherous grin on his face, “Where are you going looking so dressed up?”

“If you must know,” You reply with a pointed glare, “I have a date.”

“You?”

You glower at him, “Believe it or not, there are people out there who want to spend time with me.”

“With you, or with your family,” Crosshair asks, smirking as you bristle under his comment, “Sheathe your claws, kitten, I happen to think you look nice.”

“You insult me and then compliment me in the same sentence. Stars, you’re so annoying.” You grumble, “What do you need Crosshair?”

He, openly, drags his gaze down your body again, “Nothing. Just wanted to annoy you, and it worked.”

You exhale sharply, “Wow, I think I actually hate you.”

“Yeah, but you’re far too nice to actually get rid of me unlike some of the other Imps.” Crosshair grins at you, and then spins and he’s gone. 

You take a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and when that doesn’t work you take another one. It’s fine. Crosshair just likes getting under your skin, he has no way of knowing that he just picked at your biggest insecurity. 

And even if he did, it's not like he would care.

You take another deep breath, and then you leave your office too. Hopefully this date will go well, you could do with someone to talk to who isn’t Crosshair.

Two hours later, you’re back in your office, your face pressed into your arms as you try to recover from the hurt that your date gave you. 

Crosshair was right.

He wasn’t interested in you, he was interested in your family, and thought that the easiest way to climb the ranks was by getting close to you. And this isn’t the first time this happened. 

In fact, this has happened every single time you’ve tried to go on a date.

The door to your office slides open, and you lift your head slightly. You recognize the armor immediately, “Go away.” You say, your voice muffled by your arms.

“Nah.” Your desk shifts and you lift your head to scowl at Crosshair, “Bad date?”

“You were right. He wanted to use me to rub elbows with my family, congrats. Get out.” You say quietly.

Crosshair doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and then, much to your surprise, you feel his hand on the top of your head, “Did he hurt you?”

“Just emotionally.” You reply.

“...want me to shoot him?”

A muffled laugh falls from your lips, “You can’t shoot someone because they hurt my feelings, Crosshair.”

He scoffs, “Sure I can.”

You lift your head and his hand falls from your hair to your cheek. His touch is hesitant, but he doesn’t pull away. But neither do you, “Honestly, why do you even care?”

“I’m the only one who’s allowed to upset you.” Crosshair replies immediately. 

“You are incredibly frustrating.”

“Yeah, my brothers told me that all of the time too.” He says with a shrug.

“Brothers?”

“Batchmates.” Crosshair clarifies, “They’re not with the Empire. They defected.”

You huff, “Lucky them.” Crosshair’s eyebrows shoot up, and you cough, “Uh…I mean-”

He watches you evenly, “Do you want to defect, kitten?”

“...I never wanted to join the military in the first place,” You admit, “I wanted to be a teacher. But because of who my parents are, no one bothered to even try to kick me out. And then the GAR turned into the Imperial Army and I’m actually competent-”

He watches you evenly, and you lean your head into his hand. At some point his thumb started rubbing soothing circles on your cheek, and you don’t know when, but you do know that it’s soothing.

“Do you have any idea how awful this job is?” You blurt, “They keep pressuring me to decommission you, and I won’t do it because as annoying as you are, you actually are as good as you think you are-” You ramble, “And I’ve never been okay with how the clones were treated and-and and…” You wave your hands helplessly, “Damn it, you’re mine! And they don’t get to tell me to throw you away like yesterday’s trash-”

Your words are cut off when his lips crash against yours.

Crosshair’s lips are warm and slightly chapped, but you’re not thinking about that because his hand is in your hair and his tongue is sliding against your lips.

And when he breaks the kiss, you just blink at him, speechless.

“I’m yours, huh?”

Your face burns, “I…well…yes.” You finally say, “You’re mine to protect and…and it’s probably not what you want-”

“Stop telling me what I do or don’t want,” Crosshair interrupts, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, “I’m glad your date went poorly.” He says, “I don’t want other men looking at you, let alone touching you.”

“I don’t belong to you, Crosshair.”

“Wrong. If I’m yours,” His lips trail up your jaw, “Then you’re mine. That’s how it works. And no take backs allowed.”

“God, I hate you.”

“No you don’t, kitten. If you hated me you wouldn’t be letting me do this.” His lips drop to your neck and he bites down, roughly enough you release a yelp.

“You’re actually the worst.” 

Crosshair grins at you, “Come with me.”

“...what?”

“We’re leaving. We’ll find some backwater planet where no one’s heard of clones or the Empire, and you can become a teacher and no one will ever make choices for either of us ever again.” Crosshair murmurs against your throat, “And I get to kiss you as much as we both want.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

Grandmother used to tell you that there was a fine line between love and hate, and when you were a child, you didn’t believe her.

But, as Crosshair drags you to his ship, you’re beginning to understand her.

[rroseselavyyy]

lavender moon - ksj

pairing: seokjin x female reader

warnings: angst with a touch of smut, shitty ending (the ending is kind of rushed :( sorry about that)

He nestled your head on his shoulder like he was helping a kitten finding a comfortable position in his embrace as you sat between his legs in the steaming bath. He nuzzled his nose to your exposed neck, planting soft kisses that made you mewl contentedly under his touch.

"Why were you crying all alone, baby?" He stroked your wet hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your back against his firm chest as if you were the only thing keeping him safe in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you shook your head to make it clear that you weren't going to give him the answer he wanted to hear, his lips eliciting a chuckle just behind your ear at your childish manner.

"I think I have an idea of what's going on." You let yourself sink further into his embrace, feeling all the stress you carried on your shoulders melt away with the scent of lavender, his thumb tracing a path across your skin to dry the drops of water that adorned all the way your arm like freshwater pearls. "You're protecting my mother again, aren't you?"

You twitched in his arms, turned in his embrace to see his expression and the moment you looked into his eyes you found yourself lost in them as they bored into yours, the love he had for you was there like concrete evidence. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"She told me you should have left me a long time ago." You attempted to cover your mouth when you realized you had said more than was necessary. Even you were amazed at how easily the words slipped out of your mouth, you blamed it on the fact that you were completely relaxed in his arms, he had that special power that made your worries go away. "I don't think she's wrong, Jinnie. I've been nothing but trouble since the first day we met."

"How on earth can she be right?-" He kissed the bridge of your nose, the gesture making you blink innocently as the touch of his plump lips sent blood rushing to your cheeks. "I love you, that's all that matters."

"Do you want to know why she hates you so much?" A thousand stars had burst open in your swelling chest as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "Because I married the love of my life and not some other girl she wanted me to marry."

"Maybe it's because my brother beat you up so badly? Not the best first impression, obviously." You chuckled nervously as you breathed the same air as him, his fingers now intertwined with yours. "Isn't it funny that you happened to be there? Maybe we might never have met if you hadn't been there to help your brother with his wounds. Did you know that I fell in love with you the moment I laid my eyes on you?"

You rolled your eyes as he looked at you with a sense of adoration, ready to tell you for the thousandth time how beautiful you were that day like a poem he recited by heart.

"I think I have lost the count of how many times you have told me this story."

His mother's never-ending insults no longer saddened you, instead Jin and your shared giggles replaced your muffled sobs in one of the sacred places blessed by your marriage, where you would make happy memories with him until the end of time.

"You looked so pretty that day that I offered to pay your brother to beat me so I could see you again. Understandably, he didn't accept the money-" Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to face him. He giggled sweetly in your ears like a song, his hands making soothing circles on your thighs. "However, still, he beat me to death anyway. He said he did it just because he thought I was a jerk. God, you should have seen his face when I told him I wanted to marry you."

"I don't want to believe you. It doesn't even make sense." You cringed at the thought, but since nothing was impossible when it came to your husband, you could easily imagine the scenario, even with details.

"Oh love, I still have the scars on my chest to prove it." He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, causing you to slap his chest lightly in return as you smiled with your eyes closed. "Maybe you'd like to kiss them better, hmm? Mrs. Kim?"

He was just an example of how maturity was not about age. Sometimes he was so sweet that he didn't even have to try to get what he wanted.

Including getting kisses from his baby.

"Only because you asked me nicely." Your lips curled into a smirk as you wasted no time in placing your hands on his abdomen, kissing a path down his neck to his chest. "I can't see anything-" You were halfway to his collarbone when he grabbed you by the hair, and even though his hands were some of the roughest you'd ever known, knowing he wouldn't put any pressure on his grip, you let him take control.

He guided you with his hands on your waist as you shifted in his embrace to find a better position on his lap. He tasted the drops of water on your lips like a man finding water in the middle of a dessert, your foreheads touching as you enjoyed the comforting silence.

"You're the only good thing in my life-" He whispered in your ear as you allowed him to help you straddle him with his expert hands. He watched your expression intently as you grabbed his hair at the back of his neck, using it as leverage to your face. "I'm not willing to give up on you ever."

"You are mine." Feeling your hips roughly lifted by the same hands that gently stroked your hair, you let out a soft whimper against his lips, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as he guided it into your welcoming walls. "I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again. She has no right to make you sad."

"Jinnie- don't you ever get mad at your mother-" You brushed his wet hair from his forehead as you finally settled into his lap. You were both still, clinging to each other as if you wanted to be moulded into one. "You know that I can take care of myself. Your mother's just being protective, there is no harm in that."

It was Jin who broke the silence as he couldn't help but thrust his hips into you, his breath catching in his throat.

"We'll get through this." You reassured him with a kiss on his lips. "Nothing scares me when you're by my side."

He tried to hide a giggle as he bit down on his lips with ultimate force, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass as he took control of you, moving you to his liking. He was too consumed with pleasure to even form words, but he promised you in a velvety voice.

"Good thing, angel. Because even when the sky falls down, even when the earth crumbles around our feet, I'll always be here by your side."

[skyfallscotland]

⭐ Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal by @caeli0306

Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Complete / AU / 70k

Violet Sorrengail is a highly effective political crisis consultant. Xaden Riorson is poised to win his late father's old senate seat. The hatred between the two runs deep, but its been years since their fiery classroom debates in college, and Violet was certain she'd never cross paths with him again, until her expertise is required to keep doctored stories that could sink Xaden's campaign from gaining traction just before the general election. The chemistry is off-the-charts, the tension has every other staffer fleeing when the two end up in the same room, and the fire that existed between them is as hot as ever. But as time goes on, Violet begins to realize exactly how true the saying, "There's a thin line between love and hate," really is.

So, so good! Deserves so much more love than it's getting. Infinite love. If you like political dramas like Scandal, you'll love this! It's like not-quite-enemies-to-lovers but with enough tension to keep you reading long into the night. Can I call it short and sweet at 70k? I don't know, it felt that way—like not a massive commitment but long enough to keep you entertained for hours. If you want to see Violet outsmarting everyone around her and Xaden down bad, this is the fic for you! I love them, your honour. More modern AU's like this one, please 💗

[grapenamjams]

At work I thought about a slightly angsty fic scenario about Togame 🐢 bare with me here as I just dump my thoughts

- A/N: reading this back I jump from using reader and “you” just ignore that. Thanks!

So, reader and Togame got together before he joined Shishitoren. Maybe first meeting when he was working at a festival (no I will not let this perfect meet cute scenario go) point is reader got to know Togame before he changed. Knowing His sweet, shy, caring, laidback side.

Therefore when he joins Shoshitoren Reader watches the Togame they knew slowly change before their own eyes. Turning cold, cocky , violent and cruel towards his fellow gang members.

Reader will still see glimpses of who he was when he was you. Reader Still knows in their heart that he would never hurt them physically and he loves and cherishes reader dearly but his personality still had changed dramatically, to the point reader found it hard to differentiate between his opposing personalities. Bleeding into his personal life. Reader also just couldn’t turn a blind eye to the things he was doing, the pain he was causing to others even though it was deserved at times he would go to extremes.

Naturally this was causing a strain between the two. distance and arguments were frequent in the relationship. Wearing each other thin. Togame knew he was hurting you and it pained him but he was adamant to his promise he made to his friend.

Reader hearing about what happend under the bridge, what Togame had done and the scheduled battle with Bofurin was pretty much the tipping point for reader.

The night before the battle. Reader and Togame had an argument.one of the worst ones yet. Words were said that hit harder than bloody fits ever could. Monster was one of the words that made Togame freeze in his tracks as he followed you into his bedroom watching you grab your things that had slowly started to apear through the years together. Reader regretted the words once they left their mouth but they remain firm. Togame didn’t remember what he said but it was enough to bring tears to his partners eyes and have them make a straight line for the door. He sinks to the floor head thudding against the wall, letting out a curse as he runs his hands through his hair the silence to loud your last words the only thing ringing in his head.

Almost a week goes by since the battle with Bofurin when Togame found himself in readers living room. He wanted to hide, to let you go completely, telling himself that you would be better off without him. Even though he was finally able to drop the facade he had built for his promise. He knows he caused you so much pain. hurt you so many times to able to save what you two had.

But in all his efforts at distance he couldn’t step away and leave things how they ended that night. not before trying to apologize to you for his behavior. He knows he didn’t deserve it, your forgiveness, for you to not remember him only for his worst parts. He knows he treated you horribly, not taking care, cherishing you as he ought had done. as he wanted too. He couldnt handle the thought of you hating him. It tore him up inside to know you thought him a cruel monster at the end of your guys story. And he tells reader all of this.

“That person…that wasn’t who I am. You know me, yeah? I got lost in my own facade I created. I just…” his deep voice falters, tears that were in his eyes begin to drop down. “Your opinion of me matters so much to me, angel. I don’t want you to hate me I don’t want you to leave us thinking I’m a monster. I know I havnt done much to prove otherwise recently… I’m so incredibly sorry for how I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I just…fuck I just wanted to try”

Your heart aches at Seeing him so desperately asking for your forgiveness. Almost as if he wants to get on his knees if you continue to stay silent. (I’m breaking my own heart here yall god T_T)

The relationship had recently become rocky, but at the end of the day you both loved each other. You had always known that his true self was locked away somewhere and you had hoped to see him again. of course it won’t be the exact same, but you knew you would love every version of him never being able to truly hate him. Meaning so much to you. Telling him this, Togame tears fall freely.

“Say it again” he pulls you into him tightly anchoring himself as he shakes with quiet,  sobs. “say that you don’t hate me please”

You hug him back just as fiercely before pulling back to cup his face in your hands. Tearful eyes taking in your face, desperately. “ I don’t hate you I never could. I love you Togame.”

[crisalidaseason]

Fourth Wing/Iron flame spoilers

Lilith Sorrengail: fucking complex character rant.

Warning: This is not a defense post for Lilith, this is merely my observations about her. I do not condone her actions at all!

So, despite many people hating her I think Lilith is a really interesting character. I can hate her actions, but not her entirely.

First of all, she is clearly a badass motherfucker that comes from a huge line of badass motherfuckers. The fact she is a storm wielder says a lot about her as a person. Storms are ruthless, destructive, but also necessary for nature.

She clearly has a very difficult position, one that makes her do things that goes against her own morals but also guarantees the protection of her loved ones. Unfortunately, regarding the bad shit, she does have to suck it up for the benefit of their country - and going against what leadership wants is clearly dangerous. In a way, her years in the military shaped her to become the current person we meet in Fourth Wing.

Lilith is not an affectionate parent to her children. She loves them very much, but she never thought about them as human beings in need of love, only protection and training. For her, making sure her children live and succeed has been her only objective. Her husband seemed to be the one to fill the role of raising them in a more affectionate manner and I think she thought that was enough. Therefore, she treats them like soldiers and her husband attends to other necessities.

Her relationship with Violet is by far the most hearbreaking. I don't think she necessarily hates her daughter, she hates herself for failing to protect Violet from the illness. There is a lot of self-hatred on Lilith's behavior and I think she runs away from it by building this huge wall between her and Violet - which is not nearly as thin as the wall of distance she built for Brennan and Mira. At the same time, Violet is the child she is most paranoid about protecting - in her own manner.

Something that I theorize: The possibility that Lilith was actually very similar to Violet in the past. The fact Lilith wield storms and her daughter wields lightning makes me think they had very similar views at some point, hence why they manifested similar signets (though I think Violet is not only capable of wielding lightning, but this is not a theory for this post).

Because Lilith distances herself even more from Violet, her daughter ends up being fully raised by the father. This is what breaks my heart even more. \when Violet mentions that her mother ingored her completely after her father's death, I can imagine that not only Violet became a reminder of Lilith's younger self, but also the copy paste behavior of her husband - whom she loved dearly. Violet is a painful walking reminder of her failures, her past self and her husband.

Lilith sending Violet to the riders quadrant was downright cruel, but I understand her reasoning. Violet would end up questioning too much within the scribes and possibly end up killed as a traitor - something that puts Mira and Lilith herself in danger too. Sending her to the riders allows Violet to focus on her survival more than the bullshit they are hiding - which fucking backfires but Lilith had no way of knowing that.

In the end, Lilith would do whatever she could to ensure Violet survived within the quadrant, and she did. Asking Xaden - the son of the man who 'killed' one of your kids, the boy you tortured - to protect your youngest is a fucking desperate move. Yes, sending Violet to the quadrant was cruel, but she had all bets that this girl would survive. Or at least die what Lilith would consider a 'honorable' death, though I don't think she actually planned to bury Violet, she would have moved more pieces on her chess game.

In iron flame, when Violet is rescued from the torture chamber, not only is Lilith ready to murder everyone on the path to her daugher, but she actually aids Xaden to get her out of there. At that point, she could not give a fuck if her daughter running away puts her and Mira in danger, she wants Violet out of harm immediatly and consequences be dealt with later. She could have forced Xaden to leave Violet there, Varrish was dead already and she could monitor the college to not have that kind of situation happen again, but no, she lets them go!

When Lilith meets her children alongside Melgren and other leaders, her only reason to have all of her kids there was for solely seeing them a last time and hand Lyra's journal. She did not know where, but she knew Violet was raising wards and needed to make sure the wards were fully powered. That book should have returned to the king's library, but instead she stole it and gave it to her children as a last action. It was a desperate measure when she felt completely powerless knowing that they were exposed to venin.

Finally, the moment of her death. Lilith proved her loyalty to her children - to Violet of all children - that moment. No way she was going to loose a child for a problem Lilith caused alongside leadership. Her death was her ultimate act of protection, even if it meant breaking her child's heart yet again.

[fanfiction-blep]

Ghost: Part Three. Na’vi Miles Quaritch X Na’vi Fem/Reader.

Part one / Part two / Part Four / Part Five

Thank you for waiting! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Quaritch having barely any control over his tail at this point it has its own warning. Jealousy. Language. Unspoken tension. Mentions of violence, Talks of death, loss of a family member. This one is pretty chill. 

Turns out Quaritch loved to fly. Ships didn’t cut it for him anymore, nothing would ever compare to flying his Ikran. He wanted nothing more than to spend hours out in the open air, but he had a mission. That wasn’t going to stop him though, the Colonel was a slick man. He always ends up getting his way. That’s why he was making his way down the winding corridors, the General had stated that (Y/N) was not to fly unattended. Quaritch would be dammed if he let that opportunity slide, she was his link to this planet, a planet he no longer hated. Whatever the feeling that replaced that hate was, it was something he couldn’t describe. Whatever it was he didn’t like it, but she could help him understand it, that was all he needed, he just had to understand this feeling. At least that's what he kept telling himself. He rounded the corner and saw Lyle and Z-dog standing by the clear door of (Y/N)’s cell, laughing. 

“What ya think ya doin’?” The Colonel stopped in his tracks, he was out of (Y/N)’s line of sight. She could hear him clear as day though 

“Nothin’ boss, the freak is talking to herself.” Lyle sniggered. 

“Thought it was funny is all” Z-dog snorted, Quaritch had to restrain his reactions. He was able to stop his ears from falling back against his head, he could stop his teeth baring, but the word ‘freak’ in reference to (Y/N) made his tail swish and thrash irrationally. 

“Well, I need her for some lessons. So beat it” he nodded in their direction motioning them to leave. Both of the recom marines sharing odd looks before turning and walking away. He opened the door and found (Y/N) on her knees, palms facing upwards and speaking lowly under her breath. The only words that he caught were ‘Eywa’ and ‘Txum’. “Hey there” he placed his hands on his hips. She looked up at him and it took his breath away. She looked, calm. Peaceful, and it struck him, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but he wanted some of that calm she seemed to find so easily. 

“What do you want? come to mock me like your buddies?” She stood from her seated position and began adjusting her hair tying it back with a thin piece of twine. 

“No.” It was a complete sentence, he had no issues with their jokes about the natives before this. He rationalised his irritation with odd logic. She wasn’t a native, she used to be a human. So it wasn’t right for them to speak about her the way they were. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. “I want more flying practice, and ya can teach me more of that Na’vi stuff.” It was a demand. He had done this over the last few days and she hadn’t really protested, other than the odd eye roll. He was already half way out the room when (Y/N) hissed in irritation. He didn’t turn around he only turned his head slightly to look at her. “Problem?” 

“I am not one of your little soldiers that you can order around!” She snapped at him. He did turn around at her outburst. 

“That’s for damn sure.” He sneered at her, almost spitting out his words “A soldier would accept orders.”

“I am not the obedient type.” she snorted her ears pulled back only slightly, her eyes warning him not to push. Her tail curled around her leg as he leaned in careful to keep his distance, nose still injured from their last altercation. 

“That’s something ya should fix sweetheart.” His voice was low, threatening. 

“Or what?” she did her best to return his threatening tone. 

“Or, I’ll fix it for ya” the air was sucked out of her lungs, there was an unspoken tension between them now. It wasn’t a violent threat, she could tell because his tail was moving in a playful manner. They stood there for several moments, both their chest heaving slightly heavier than they should have been. It was his tail that broke the trance, ‘his damn tail!’ she thought, it stroked against her calf and moved its way up. Completely without his control, she didn’t know this. (Y/N) snapped into action, she pushed past him taking him off balance only slightly. 

“Are we leaving or what?” The taller man grunted in response and headed towards to exit. They quickly found their way outside, (Y/N) jogging ahead slightly calling out to her Ikran. She took it all in, she wasn’t allowed outside often. Anytime they let her breath the fresh air she would treasure it. (Y/N)’s Ikran arrived sooner than the Colonel’s. This was for many reasons, Loyey was always close by ensuring she was there when she was needed. The Colonel was yet to form that deep bond with his own Ikran. The two climbed on their respective mounds and lifted into the air, (Y/N) taking the leave. 

“You want ta tell me where we’re going?” he asked 

“You want to learn, then you have to trust me.” she called out over the wind. 

                                                              ~*~  

The two sat opposite each other, as they had so many times in recent weeks. Currently she was teaching him basic Na’vi.

“Sung?” it was more a question than a statement, he had gotten it wrong multiple times. 

“Srung! Skxawng” 

“Srung!” (Y/N) clapped pleased with his progress, almost proud of how quickly he was picking it up. 

“Okay so this one is important” she looked up at him and stared directly into his eyes. “Oel ngati kameie” She felt almost bashful saying the words.

“Oe-l nagati kamie”

“No” she lowered her gaze and shook her head. 

“What dose it mean anyways?” The space around them became slightly colder than normal, and the light from the sun began to dim. It was the best time of day, eclipse. She closed her eyes and took it in, breathing in the change in the environment around her. “(Y/N)?” she simply hummed in response. “What does Oel ngati kameie mean?” (Y/N)’s eyes shot open and smile covered her face. 

“You said it right!” she gripped his biceps in excitement. He smirked down at her raising an eyebrow. (Y/N) pulled back and angry blush littered her cheeks, she had to get a hold of herself. He wasn’t like Jake, he didn’t want to learn because he cared. He wanted to learn so he had an advantage that her family wouldn’t see coming. Her heart told her something different. He didn’t have to learn the language, he had Spider and her to translate if it was needed. He might need her to learn to fly better, sure, but he was a true natural, he didn’t need any pointers from her. Yet at least once a day he would go to her cell and demand the same thing, he wanted to fly with her and have her teach him.

“(Y/N)? I won’t ask you again” Something about his words sent a shock down her spine. 

“Right sorry. It means ‘I see you’” 

“Well no shit! Why is that one important then?” 

“Its not a literal statement, its spiritual. It means I see you, all of you, your heart, your mind, your soul. It means that I see you for who you are, respect and accept you in your entirety.” He was taken back, he was unsure of where to look. His eyes dancing between hers, his hands, or simply the forage around them. 

“Bull-” was all he said, waiting for her to argue, but she didn’t. When he looked at her again, ready to meet her gaze, she was looking up at him with her large yellow eyes, eyes filled with understanding. Once again he didn’t know how to feel. 

“You’re telling me you don’t feel it?” she asked. “You don’t feel how everything around you is alive? Aware?” He said nothing, and she took this as an invitation. “Come” she stood up and turned in the direction of the forest. She lead him in deeper and deeper. “I don’t trust you enough, to take you anywhere sacred.” 

“So where are ya takin’ me?” He was intrigued, and stared down in awe. It was still dark, but he could see her clearly, the playful flicks of her tail, the open mouthed smile that spread joy across her whole face, the small shining spots that covered her body. Her eyes sparkled with the very essence of her emotions. ‘Is this what she was talkin’ about?’ he thought, ‘I see you’ Because he had never seen her like this inside those metal walls, no. Out here she was different, she was open and free. He was beginning to feel the same way. By the time she stopped, they were deep in the forest. Trees stretching far higher into the air than he had seen before, large leaves littered the trunks, small gecko looking creatures spun in the air.  

She stepped backwards smiling at him and sat down, her legs crossed. She gestured for him to join her.  He sat, watching her intently as she pulled her Queue. Quaritch mimicked her movements, she held out the sensitive branches at the end of her braid and connected them to the ground beneath her. Again he copied her movements. And that’s when he felt it, he felt like he was bathing in light. He felt everything around him, the trees next to him breathing in the carbon around them, the animals that were landing on the branches or plants that were way out of his line of sight. It was too much. He jumped up, almost falling back in his shock. 

“What the-”

“Quaritch-”

“NO!” she flinched back from him stepping back ever so slightly. He had threatened her, he had manhandled her, but he had never yelled, no that was a scream. “What was that”

“You felt an echo, an echo of Eywa” he looked at her with nothing but anger and distrust. “You can try and say I am lying, but you felt it! something you could never have felt as a human. Everything is connected! You could connect with Eywa directly, but I don’t-” she paused. 

“Yeah, ya don’t trust me.”

“How can I? You are only now starting to ‘see’ the beauty of this planet, yet are helping to destroy it.”

“I-”

“I have seen the struggle in you Quaritch, you feel drawn to her. To Eywa.”

“Don’t try to tell me what I am feelin’!” he warned. Sympathy filled her eyes. 

“Please, just listen to me” He was agitated and distrusting. What he had felt made him question everything, everything that he had believed, everything that he had been taught about this planet was wrong. “I know your confused, It’s like a crisis of faith. I didn’t believe in Eywa, before-.” She paused swallowing hard. “Before Grace died, but her dying words were ‘she’s real, I am with her. I am with Eywa’ Grace was the most objective and fact ruled person that I have ever met, she was in her human body yet she connected with the great mother and she is with her now. I’ve seen her through the tree of souls” Quaritch rubbed his large hands over his face, he groaned. He couldn’t comprehend this. It was too much. He turned and tried retracing his steps back to the Ikran, he needed to get out of the forest. As he stormed away all he could think was if Jake Sully hadn’t helped kill him in his so called former life he wouldn’t have to contend with these emotions. He wouldn’t have to think about all this, feel this guilt or struggle. He hated him for this reason and this reason alone, his mission was a way for him to vent this anger without being questioned. (Y/N) said nothing, just followed behind him. He reached his Ikran and attempted to climb it, ready to head back to base. “Please, don’t make me go back yet” He paused, he had realised today just how painful it was for her to be trapped in that room. No connection to the world she loved so much and it tugged at him in a way that he wished more than anything it didn’t. He would sort that out later though. For now they would stay, he would give her this. He used the excuse mentally that he needed to conduct himself mentally before returning to his team. 

“Fine, two more hours, that's it. Then we go back.” She smiled at him, only slightly, but she showed her appreciation. Her ears raised and her tail curled slightly upwards. She walked over to a more densely grassed covered area, and laid down. She let out a long breath. 

“I wont teach you anything more today, I think I overwhelmed you, I am sorry.” He was sat down next to her not looking at her at all. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with worse.” She chuckled slightly 

“I do want ya ta teach me one more thing today” He looked at her then, expectedly. She leaned up on her elbow and stared at him with confusion. She hadn’t expected any of this. His eagerness to learn. 

“What is it?” She asked and he lifted up his Queue and allowed the sensitive ends to wriggle in the open air. 

“What is this thing? I know it allows me to connect to other things on Pandora but, I feel like there is more too it than that.”

“You’re right, the Na’vi use their Queue’s to bond with the world around them, the animals and Eywa. I’m sure the scientists explained how its connected to the base of the skull and brain?” She quizzed him unsure about how to approach the topic of mating with him. It shouldn’t be uncomfortable? It’s just information. 

“Yeah taught us it would be real painful if it was cut off” The women grimaced at his words.  

“That’s a very redundant way of explaining it”

“To cut someone’s Queue would be like cutting off a limb. It’s considered shameful for a Na’vi to be without his Queue, its his way to connect with the world around him and the people”

“People?” He was intrigued looking down at her own Queue. She held the end against her chest, almost defensively she could tell what he was thinking. His body language was easy to read. 

“Yes, to connect to another Na’vi is sacred. It’s how Na’vi mate.”

“Mate?”

“Yes” She laughed at him. “They really didn’t explain any of this?” It shouldn’t have surprised her. The military had one goal with the recons, have the advantage. Unlike the Avatar program they weren’t supposed to assimilate.

“They just told us it was sensitive and to keep it safe really, not to use it on anything...”

“Making Tsaheylu, the bond with another person would be the equivalent of two humans getting married.” Quaritch froze. “It’s for life” her words struck him to his core, he knew Na’vi lived their lives with partners but he didn’t realise it was something that was so deeply spiritual, but he couldn’t help the almost crude question that left his mouth. 

“So Na’vi only marry and have sex with one person for their whole lives” He scoffed. “Prudes” (Y/N) laughed and even rolled on her side from the laughter. She leaned up and sat up facing him bracing her weight on her hands. 

“They really taught you nothing” he raised an eyebrow, it was a taunting look. encouraging her to explain. “Sex is different to Mating. Having sex outside of a bond is frowned upon but not forbidden. However making the bond with another person is a serious commitment, it changes you. You become connected to that person in every way, you see them.” He was silent taking in the information. “And you can bond with several people but one relationship doesn't end to start another. Polyamory is a common practice amongst the people, but each mate is a commitment and you are responsible for them in every way. Each partner is responsible to make sure their mate is safe, happy, healthy all of the normal relationship stuff. It’s just that most Na’vi choose to be bonded to one mate. The first person you make Tsaheylu, well some people have said that that one person makes everyone else seem like background noise.” Quaritch had been quiet the whole time, he hadn’t interrupted her, until his next question. 

“Did Sully tell you that? The background noise thing?”

“Damn, you’re obsessed with him. Next you’re going to ask me if he’s good in bed.” Quaritch’s spine straightened and an unforeseen amount of shock was displayed on his face. 

“How would ya know that?” He was furious, he didn’t know why. The women began rolling around the grass laughing again. “Stop laughing and answer me” she didn’t “Don’t make me tell ya again or so help me i will throw you over my shoulder and we’ll head back to base.” she tried her best to calm down, raising her left hand in hopes that he would give her time. 

“I- Don’t” she gasped out “But I wanted to see you’re face.” she let out several long breaths and gasped in air. He watched her, her cheeks flushed, eyes closed, and chest heaving. His own face began to burn and he threw his head up looking away from her. 

“Not funny, at all” he said 

“It was a little bit” she indicated this with her thumb and pointer finger. He still wasn’t looking at her when he asked the next question, one that took her off guard. 

“So you’ve never slept with anyone in your Na’vi body?” she paused. This was rather blunt of him. It was an invasive question and she wasn’t sure how to respond to it. 

“That’s a personal question.” She started playing with loose fabric around her ankles. Not wanting to meet his gaze. 

“Ya right, I’m sorry” he then smirked “Guess I’ve got to call ya virgin now?” he was laughing trying to take his mind off the rage he felt from those two seconds where he thought she had slept with that man.  

“Really?” she gaped at him in shock and slapped at his biceps. “You’re one crude, crude man” 

“Well ya ain’t denying it”

“Is that what you want? me to tell you whether or not I've slept with someone in this body?” 

“You don’t have to tell me nothin’ princess, but I can tell either way, you haven’t been fucked right in a long time” she was stunned, she had no idea how to respond. 

“Is that so” 

“Yep” He was curt, and didn’t want to press any further. 

There was a silence between them, somehow his words kept having this effect on her the way he spoke sent shivers down her spine, and she liked it, but she didn’t know what to say. So she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. 

“I slept with Norm” Quaritch’s head snapped to look at her, he was furious again. 

“The limp dick science major that tailed ya, Sully and ya sister?” His anger thrilled her, she wanted to respond with. ‘Not so limp dicked’ but she knew she would push him too far and she didn’t know how to respond. He shook his head, he was muttering under his breath, but he refused to meet her eye. 

“It was a one time thing if that means anything to you” (Y/N) tried to act casual shrugging her shoulders. 

“Okay?” he stood up “Ya gonna tell me you mated with the idiot as well?” he turned around and started walking over to his Ikran. (Y/N) scrambling to keep up with him. 

“No? of course not, that’s not something I would do casually.”

“Well clearly there’s a lot ya do casually, like taking men into the woods, is that how ya did it? Snuck into the woods and let him fuck ya?” She was hurt by his words. It didn’t matter how or why it happened, he was humiliating her and shaming her for it, and that wasn’t okay. She wanted to scream at him ‘fuck you’ but she knew that he would say something worse. He was already in the air flying in the direction of the base when she found herself on her own Ikran. Not a word was spoken when they arrived back, night had fallen by this time. He simply stomped behind her. When they reached her cell, he didn’t say goodbye or make a comment like he normally would, he simply locked the door and left her there in shock at his behaviour. Why was he so angry? Even he didn’t know, and he hated not knowing. On his way back to his own quarters he ran into Lyle and was greeted with jeers and laughter. Lyle has spider held tightly in his grip

“Did you have a good time out there Colonel?”

“What?” He knew what they were implying but he needed them to say it, he needed to hit something

"What are you doing with the kid?" He quizzed.

"The General had some questions, since you were busy" He threw a wink at Quaritch, the act grinding down on his already thin patience . "So we interrogated the kids" He looked down at the boy, his head was hung low. He looked tired and filled with anger. "So did you?" Lyle asked, slightly confused at the Colonels behaviour.

"What?" He asked again.

“Did you get some ass? Cus if you can than any of us have a chan-” Lyle was cut off by a strong angry blow to the face. One, that is all it took. And the recom was laying on his ass, hands to his face. “What the fu-” The blow had caused Lyle to drop Spider from his grasp. Quaritch catching him before he hit the floor.

"Show some fuckin’ respect lieutenant, I am your superior” Lyle nodded in response. "Take the kid back to his room, Not a scratch. Understood?" Lyle nodded again and moved out of the way allowing the Colonel to walk into his room, slamming the door in anger. Sitting down on his bed changing into his sleep cloths. As he laid there trying to sleep he realised. That what he felt wasn’t just anger it was jealously. He didn’t understand why, and Lyle? Well he realised that Lyle was saying in no certain terms what he had said to her face. And hearing the words repeated back to him he was pissed. He had acted like and ass and he needed to make amends. Groaning Quaritch rubbed his hands over his face. His now not causing pain at contact, He needed to figure out why the fuck the idea of her sleeping with someone pissed him off so much. He wasn’t the kind of person to judge people for being sexually active, he knew that wasn’t the case. After a period of time, he gave in and admitted to himself what he didn’t want too. The idea of her sleeping with anyone let alone Norm enraged him, because he wanted to be the only one. The only one to touch her. But he knew she would never have him, she would never see him.

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[caeli0306]

Chapter 4 of Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal is now up on AO3!

Chapter 4: Offer No Apologies is now posted on AO3: READ HERE

LMAO remember when I said yesterday that I deleted 2k of the fic? Well, lol, I deleted a whole lot more than that after. I completely changed how I thought this was going to go. So for those of you that want this fic to be longer, rejoice! We're going to have a chapter 5. In other news, please read the chapter notes for trigger warnings. We're getting EXTREMELY angsty in this one folks. For those unfamiliar, this is my @rq-gift-exchange fic for the wonderful @witch-and-her-witcher.

Summary:

Violet Sorrengail is a highly effectively political crisis consultant. Xaden Riorson is poised to win his late father's old senate seat. The hatred between the two runs deep, but its been years since their fiery classroom debates in college, and Violet was certain she'd never cross paths with him again, until her expertise is required to keep doctored stories that could sink Xaden's campaign from gaining traction just before the general election.

The chemistry is off-the-charts, the tension has every other staffer fleeing when the two end up in the same room, and the fire that existed between them is as hot as ever. But as time goes on, Violet begins to realize exactly how true the saying, "There's a thin line between love and hate," really is.

===

Xaden freezes as soon as he notices me, and I have to fight not to roll my eyes. With how surprised he acts every time he runs into me, you’d think I wasn’t the person he hired to run his entire fucking senatorial office.

“Sorrengail,” he greets, tone stilted.

“Mr. Riorson.” I nod, and I feel a bit bad when he winces ever so slightly.

We stand there awkwardly, just staring at each other, until one of the workers taps me on the shoulder, requiring direction for where to put the contents of a box. One last glance at Xaden, and I see a stormy expression that wasn’t there before.

I ignore him and get back to work.

Rhiannon meanders in 30 minutes later, her arms laden with boxes filled with files. I relieve her of one, direct her to put them in my newly assigned office. We dump them in a corner, and she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead.

“I saw Xaden stomping out of here a few minutes ago,” she hedges slowly, looking at me for my reaction. I turn away. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

I still haven’t told her the full extent of what happened that night, or the morning after. I didn’t tell her about the quiet intimacy, the hand-holding, the kisses on my head. I didn’t tell her about the moment I was no longer in denial, or how I pretty much tore my own heart out and stomped on it a few minutes later. I didn’t tell her about how I did it for Xaden’s sake, and how I’ve managed to make both of us miserable as a result.