#callin out the tropes

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

[onetrueheir]

About to be so annoying on the dash rip everyone 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↕️❤️

👉👈 are you the same train from the btvs fandom? If so hi it's been 500 years! I wrote mostly on a faith (murderousbitch)

baby you know it is. there's only one tank engine in this town.

[saberlight1]

lovefool — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, fluff, Y/N usage, reader is a cowgirl and gunslinger, hints towards murder, one bed trope, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: hii!!! i’m so happy to be writing about billy, thank you anon for sending in this request that this is based off of. i loved the show and slowly am getting more obsessed with tom blyth everyday i swearrr. i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

You and the boys damn near fell through the doors of some random boarding house you came across— the lot of you attempting to run away from a rival gang that caught you stealing cattle.

Jesse threw 10 dollars down on the counter, more than enough to get rooms for you all. You had been running around all day— but the smell of gunpowder and crimson blood still clogged your nose hairs and adrenaline still pumped through your veins. You simply wanted a bath and to go the hell to bed.

But, who would you be to turn down Jesse’s smiling face, holding out a shot of whiskey for you.

You sighed, your hat tipping down with your head as you shook it, your hands rested neatly on your gun-belt, cowboy boot tapping softly on the floor as you pretended to weigh your options.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N.” He held it out for you. “Drink with us!”

You chuckled. “Why not,” You went to sit down at the bar next to them.

“Hell yeah!” Jesse and the rest of the boys who were scattered around the bar cheered— you normally weren’t one for their after hour shenanigans.

“Only for a little bit, though. I’m tired as hell.” You said, downing the whiskey shot.

“Sure,” Jesse waved you off with a knowing look, ordering a couple more rounds for you all. You laughed, going along with his antics as always. You had known Jesse since you were young— he was the one who had vouched for you in this group, who had helped you gain the respect that you had today.

You let out a hiss at the burning feeling of that whiskey going down your throat, slamming the shot glass back onto the table.

“I’ll have what they’re havin’.” You heard that familiar husky voice from next to you. Billy Bonney stood with a small smirk toying on his lips as he sat down on the stool next to you. He nodded at the bartender when he slid him said shot, the outlaw throwing it back without hesitation.

“Where you been, cowboy?” You asked, slightly tipsy.

“Been at the Saloon playin’ Poker.” He responded.

“You win?”

His smirk only grew. “Sure did. It was a big pot too,”

“Good for you, Billy.” You smiled, turning back to grab you and him another shot. “To your winnings.” You cheered, the pair of you clinking your glasses together before downing them.

“Aye, y’all get that cattle?” He asked, leaning closer to you with a quieter voice. “Y’all stink of gunpowder.”

“Nah,” You shook your head. “Their boys came out— the shots scared the cattle away, and we ain’t have enough ammo to fight ‘em off so we had to cut and run. Shot a couple of them, though.”

He hummed. “We’ll get ‘em next time, Y/N, don’t worry.”

“I hope so. Jesse here is runnin’ up his tab right now and we barely got enough cash to buy food.” You shook your head with a bitter smile. “Aye, at least we got liquor.”

“We’ll figure it out— we always do.” Billy reminded with a comforting smile.

“Yeah.” You sighed, trying to push the worries away. You downed one last shot before pushing yourself off the bar stool. “Alright, boys, that bath is callin’ my name. See y’all tomorrow.” You turned, heading to the stairs as you heard a string of good nights.

After washing up, you put on a comfortable nightgown, heading to the room that matched the key Jesse had given you.

You carelessly threw the door open, the towel in your hands still wringing out your wet hair. But said towel almost fell from your grip once you saw a shirtless Billy standing in the middle of your room.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” You apologized as soon as his confused gaze landed on yours, backing out of the room. “Thought this was my room,”

He sighed, throwing on the shirt he was changing into before you walked in. “You’re good. Jesse told me downstairs that he ain’t have enough cash to get me a room— Hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather bunk with you than the one of the boys.”

“Oh, yeah, no, you can sleep in here. I don’t mind,” You nodded, walking in and shutting the door, placing your gun-belt down on the nightstand. Your eyes drifted to the small twin bed before you, your gaze going back up to Billy’s nervously.

“I can sleep on the floor, it’s alright.” He immediately tried to come up with a solution, already knowing what you were thinking of.

“Billy, I’m sure your back hurts just as bad as mine— if not more.” You waved him off. “I don’t want you to wake up even more sore tomorrow. It’s fine.. I ain’t scared of sleepin’ in the same bed as you. Unless you’re scared of sharin’ with me,” You lightly teased, laying down onto the bed, opening the covers for him.

A soft smile crept onto his lips. “Now, why would I be afraid of such a pretty lil’ thing like you?” He poked back, his words sending a blush to your cheeks as he got into bed, taking you up on your offer. The bed was quite small, and to ensure Billy wouldn’t fall off you were kinda hanging off the side.

A giggle left your lips. “There’s no way I’m not gon’ roll off this bed in my sleep and face plant onto the floor.”

He laid on his back, one arm thrown behind his head so he could look down at you. His gaze lingered onto yours for a moment— and you could see the gears turning in his brain. “Here,” He flipped onto his side, his hands slowly tugging you into him so your back was to his chest, his arm loosely hung around your waist. “I won’t let you fall,” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” You leaned up to blow out the candle lit next to you before snuggling back into his arms, smiling. “G’night, Billy.”

His arms tightened around you, and you could hear a faint chuckle from behind you, the man placing a soft kiss to your head. “G’night, darlin’.”

[zae-heeyyy]

Valor

Summary: Arthur takes you on one of his adventures. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!Reader Word Count: 1,760 Trigger Warning: Animal attack, angry-ish Arthur, violence Tags: mid- high honor Arthur, damsel in destress, fluff, and angst

a/n: Hey y'all! It's been a while since I posted because life is crazy right now. This is a request from @littlemistey. I'm paraphrasing from our convo, "Arthur x reader where the reader is saved by Arthur from almost being mauled by a cougar or a pack of wolves." Sketches are copied/cut from Arthur's journal. A classic "Arthur Morgan, please save me" trope. Thanks for reading!

Valor: Great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle. It denotes bravery and heroism, particularly in challenging or risky situations.

The bones in your wrists ached with the numbing weight of boredom as another morning of chores lumbered on. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. Intertwined pieces of yarn grew longer at your feet as the knitting cadence played in your head. You'd zoned out, daydreaming of anything more exciting than this.

A rhythmic clank of guns on a belt alerted you to your approaching burly cowboy.

You would've been glad to see him any other time, but your contempt for your chores and an odd hat on his head made you groan with irritation. A lit cigarette sat snug between his lips as he talked, muffling his speech.

"Why you sittin' here with your lip stuck out?" he asked, adjusting his belt and sitting beside you on a wooden crate. He tossed the cigarette away, leaned over to kiss the temple of your head, and placed a hand on the small of your back.

"Bored outta my mind," you complained. The sun reflected off a shiny decorative piece on his hat, making you squint. "And why are you wearing that stupid hat?"

"What?" he opened his hands out questioningly with a goofy grin stretched across his face. "A man keeps this camp afloat, and he can't even wear a nice hat without his lady callin' it stupid."  

You rolled your eyes and gestured to all the women in the camp, cleaning tables and guns, sewing, and helping with dinner.

"No, we keep this camp afloat while you men are out doing god knows what," you said, your stitches getting sloppier as your vexation grew. "I'm losing my mind here. Meanwhile, you come back with fancy trinkets, weird statues, emeralds, and crazy hats! You know, I think you do the robbing and hunting only sometimes, and when that's done, you're just out there playing around!"

You finally stopped knitting and turned to Arthur, whose playful grin had faltered into a thoughtful glance. You continued your monologue, "Ugh! I swear, if you don't get me outta here, I'm gonna stab Grimshaw through the eye with this needle!"

You held the sharp point inches away from Arthur's face, prompting him to snatch it from you. "Alright, easy there." He grabbed your hand in two of his gloved ones and glanced at it from under the brim of his hat, thinking for a long moment, "Fine, you can come with me long as nobody gets stabbed. Can't have a degenerate murderer loose in this camp, now, can we?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, you squealed excitedly and jumped up from your spot, pulling on Arthur's arm to make him stand, too.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said between the many kisses you laid on him. He stilled you with firm hands on your waist and chuckled.

"I reckon it won't be as exciting as you think, but I can't say no to you."

Within a few minutes, you were ready to go, aiming and checking the ammo on a varmint rifle that Arthur had given you.

"Met a strange feller, Algernon Wasp. He's a— he has— well, he— he's an artist, I guess; he's paying me to collect some stuff for his, uh, creations. Bird feathers, orchids, that kind of stuff. Would be faster with the two of us."

And that's how you found yourself in the swamps of Lemoyne with the varmint rifle slung over your shoulder as you swatted away mosquitoes and sweated your ass off. You were hot, thirsty, and worst of all, you'd only found four of the seven cigar orchids you needed.

Mud squelched under your feet as you followed behind Arthur; you spoke exasperatedly, "how much is this fool paying you for all this?"

Arthur had gone quieter as you'd gotten more frustrated over the hours. Both of you were starting to regret this decision.

"I don't know. Money is money," he said dismissively, his head on a swivel and eyes focused. You were bothered that he could so easily spot plants and always knew which direction to go, expecting you to keep pace with his long strides when mud weighed down your skirts, slowing you down. You knew it was irrational, but you were mad at him for dragging you out here despite your near begging.

The heat was getting to you, and you'd lost control of the filter from your brain to your mouth. Arthur was a few feet ahead when you started your mumbling, "goddamn swamps is no place for a lady. Gators, mud, bugs and—" You didn't get to finish your sentence before Arthur spun and made two giant steps toward you, jaw clenched.

"You got something to say?"

You crossed your arms, defiant. Arthur's reputation as a vicious intimidator didn't phase you, though. He wouldn't lay a finger on you; you both knew it. You rolled your eyes and said, "this is as boring as being back at camp, except I'm all dirty now."

He stepped closer into your space, his angry eyes searching yours. He spoke in a low volume that would scare anybody but you: "This is what you wanted, woman, so don't go gettin' mad at me because things ain't all neat and proper."

Were you frightened by him? No. Were your feelings hurt? Yes. You scoffed and nodded slowly while you spoke, "You're right. I'm gonna head to camp. I'll see you when you get back."

You didn't give him the chance to respond before you trudged in the other direction, clicking for your horse waiting nearby. Arthur watched you go until he lost sight of you in the overgrown vegetation.

Then you were on the road, your horse at a trot, when something in his line of vision spooked him. Before you could even react, you were bucked off, your head hitting the ground with a thud. Despite the pain, you knew better than to just lay there. Gators and snakes were everywhere, but only something notably terrifying would scare off your Andalusian. You took the rifle off your back, pointing it aimlessly all around, trying to focus your spinning vision on the threat beyond.

Before you could blink, a big cat took hold of your leg through your skirt. You shot wildly once, twice, then three times before the beast let go of you. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you scrambled backward as more bullets rang out from your low-caliber weapon. Hoping and praying, you squeezed the trigger one last time. Eyes closed, you prepared for the inevitable when a louder shot rang out somewhere near you.

When pain and death didn't come, you opened your eyes to see Arthur standing over you, concern distorting his face. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and he huffed, trying to catch his breath. His hands scoured every inch of you, searching for signs of bleeding. Panic started to set in again when you realized you couldn't feel anything; you held your breath as Arthur pulled up the hem of your dress, bracing for the worst.

You breathed a sigh of relief and let your head fall back onto the ground. The puncture was minor, no worse than a needle prick. Arthur stood, using his arm to wipe away the perspiration that had soaked him. Then his anger started up again.

"Can't go getting hurt like that, girl. Shouldn't've let you run off by yourself. If something happened to you, I'd—"

"Shut up, Arthur," you rose back up and tried to smile through your unease. "I'm fine, thanks to you."

He held out a hand to pull you back to your feet, then wrapped his arms around you tight. His heart hammered against his chest, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears. Then you finally let yourself cry in the safety of all his bulk.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl; I'm sorry." Every shakey inhale, sob, and gasp from you ripped him apart from the inside out. He was supposed to be looking after you, always, but his hardheadedness and pride left you vulnerable. Killing was the one thing he knew he was good for, and to almost fail at the cost of your life made his insides rot with guilt.

He peeled you away from his chest and cupped your face, "I won't let anything else happen to you, ya' hear?" You nodded, and he wiped dirt and tears away from your cheek with a big thumb and brought you back into him, stroking the back of your head. After a long moment, he retrieved your horse, helped you, and then rode beside you the whole way back to camp.

The next day, you gladly did your chores while Arthur went on his adventures. You didn't complain in the comfort and safety of a shade tree and other skilled gunmen. You were sitting in his tent when Arthur returned in the evening, now wearing his regular gambler's hat and carrying another adorned with floral designs and a peacock feather.

He greeted you with a peck on your cheek, joined you on the cot, and talked through a crooked smile, "found the rest of those orchids today and gave 'em to Algernon. Took this instead of the money. Think he was happier with that trade, anyway."  

The closer you looked at the beautiful monstrosity, the more you had to fight off your reaction. It was undeniably unique, but you couldn't image anyone wearing it seriously.

"It's um—," You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle, but your quaking shoulders gave you away. To your relief, Arthur joined in your laugh and placed the hat atop your head.

"He tried to give it to me, made me try it on, but I figured it'd look better on you. Now we both got a crazy hat."

The idea of Arthur standing in front of a mirror in the hat with all his hardened features made you throw your head back in near hysterics.

"Well, I will cherish that image and this hat forever. Thank you." Arthur's face softened as your amusement died down, then morphed into a lamentable combination of worry and self-loathing. You recognized it all too well.  

He stroked your face with the back of his hand and spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry, again, for letting you go off by yourself like that. I—"

You silenced him with your lips, pushing him onto his back and mounting him. Your new hat fell away along with his worry as you showed him just how appreciative you were.

[torushawty]

YOU CRYiN’ . . . ?

reblogs + interactions always appreciated :)

all works owned by kazushawty. song recs are for you to listen to while reading for extra immersion !!

| key: [ ★ ] = fan fav | 18+ | f! reader | in chronological order |

| key: [ 🔞 ] = smut [ 💢 ] = angst [ 🌀 ] = fluff

# — ONESHOTS / FICS . . !

[ ★ ] PSYCHOLOG-SPOT + approx. wc = 5.1k / estimated reading time / 25 minutes / college au! / ex-bf! gojo / tutor! gojo / switch! gojo / 🔞 /

SUMMARY: perhaps maybe having your ex-boyfriend satoru as your “tutor” wasn’t the best idea.

SONG REC: freaky deaky

[ ★ ] WWW.PIXELATED.STARBOY + approx. wc = 5.1k / estimated reading time / 25 minutes / cam! au / roommate gojo / camboy! gojo / switch gojo & switch reader / 🔞 /

SUMMARY: you wanted to surprise your roommate on his birthday but end up getting surprised yourself and find out he’s a popular camboy streamer.

SONG REC: need to know

SUNSETZ + approx. wc = 5.1k / estimated reading time / 25+ minutes / exes to lovers trope / ex-husband! gojo / angst ending / 🔞 / 💢 /

SUMMARY: maybe next time you should trust your gut instead of seeing your ex-husband in the middle of the night. save yourself the sheer heartbreak.

SONG REC: sunsetz

[ ★ ] DOUBLE-STUFFED: OREO STYLE + approx. wc = 4.6k estimated reading time / 19 mins 33 secs / college! au / roomate gojo! & roomate! getō / modern! au / crack / 🔞 /

SUMMARY: adult films are always so boring and overly dramatic. eye roll after eye roll when the woman “climaxes.” yet what happens when all three of you grow curious?

SONG REC: like that

[ ★ ] PUSSYCAT-PRIMADONNA + approx. wc = 6k estimated reading time / 22.67 minutes / modern! au / stripper! reader / best friend trope / crack / 🔞 /

SUMMARY: gojo visits his local strip club out of boredom. yet it’s his surprise to see the top paying girl is no one other than his pretty best friend, you.

SONG REC: buttons

SEVEN-DAY-SLUT + approx. wc = 4.9k estimated reading time / (?) / college! au + modern / ex! bf trope / crack / 🔞 / 💢 /

SUMMARY: you and your ex decide to spend halloween together for old times sake. yet a single watch of a videotape leads to an eerie phone call that says you both have seven days to live. might as well fuck each other for the last time, right?

SONG REC: turn off the light

# — THIRSTS / ASKS . . !

gojo with a low patience and a sassy gf [🔞]

king gojo + queen reader on wedding night [🔞]

spin the bottle feat. toji [🔞]

s!x deprived reader x gojo [🔞]

gojo with a spit kink [🔞]

stripper!gojo [🔞]

what karma thinks gojo’s loads are like [🔞]

stripper!gojo [🔞]

handsy make out sesh [suggestive]

what karma thinks gojo smells like

ridin gojo after he comes back from a workout [🔞] — ★

whiney gojo trying full nelson for the first time [🔞] — ★

turning satoru into a mess by telling him how good he feels [🔞]

this is your weak spot, right? [🔞] — ★

gojo makes a bet to make u squirt for the first time [🔞]

vampire gojo imagine [🔞]

what’s gojo tinder account

rockstars gojo & geto [🔞]

# — DRABBLES . . !

🐱drunk gojo who can’t help but touch himself [🔞]

gojo and how much of a moaner he is [🔞] — ★

gojo + mating press [🔞] — ★

gojo + prone bone [🔞] — ★

riding gojo while he whimpers [🔞] — ★

needy gojo [🔞] — ★

thigh riding gojo after he comes home from work [🔞]

sneaky link gojo with breed!ng kink [🔞] — ★

gojo squirting kink [🔞] — ★

gojo rubbing ur 🐱 aggressively [🔞] — ★

gojo eating u out [🔞] — ★

gojo fucking u dumb [🔞] — ★

gojo favorite positions [🔞]

fuckin u hard after callin him “honored one” [🔞] — ★

hate fucking w gojo [🔞]

gojo being horny + filling u up with his c*m [🔞] — ★

reducing strongest sorcerer 2 a whiney mess [🔞] — ★

prone bone w gojo + arm around your neck [🔞] — ★

gojo comes home to reader doing yoga [🔞] — ★

safe word with gojo [🌀]

gojo helps reader find g*spot [🔞] — ★

gojo manhandling 5’0 gf [🔞] — ★

post battle s*x [🔞]

gojo fucking you with his blindfold on you [🔞] — ★

[starryschoolgirl]

An Honest Woman Chapter 1

Summary -> Spending your youth as the neglected wife of a rich merchant wasn't what you had dreamed about as a girl. Had it not been for Elvis, the man who maintains the stable house, you could very well have died an early death from loneliness. You were lucky to have a friend as you sat in the big manor like one of the many pretty vases your much older husband owned, but the lines of fond friendship and something else soon begin to intermingle.

Warnings will vary for each chapter, please always read them.

Warnings -> Set in the late 1800s, classic trope of the inexperienced woman with an experienced man, a woman sold to a man for hefty bride-dowry toward her family, unlikely love, swearing, silent pining, neglectful husband, being a child bride in past, age difference, (lots of) eventual smut

WC -> 4.7k

A/N: This is the introduction chapter, as such it will kind of just be showing the dynamics set in the story, some of the rather spicy stuff will occur in the upcoming chapters, so look forward to those!

"Madam?"

You stared up from your palms with a look of alertness, having forgotten you were amidst others in a conversation. The boys that surrounded you, or rather, the two boys and one man who surrounded you stared at you incredulously, the man stepping forward and kneeling down in front of you as you sat on a dusty old crate that he had turned for you to sit down on. 

He pointed at your head and asked with a crooked smile,

"What's goin' on in there Honey?"

You flushed with embarrassment at your rudeness and turned away from the man's gaze, opting to stare at the discarded half-eaten apple in the corner of the stable house, probably the work of one of the boys.

"Nothing Elvis, I was just-"

He laughed softly and shook his head,

"Well that ain't good now is it?"

You stared back at him for a moment and then realized your words, before you could correct yourself he spoke again,

"And what did I tell ya 'bout callin' me that? Gonna get me in trouble with that husband of yours"

You smiled softly and remarked,

"The only thing that will get you into trouble is you calling me 'Honey', now you know he wouldn't like that, and I've told you to stop"

He shook his head and looked to the side, mumbling something under his breath before hovering his dust-covered hand above yours, not touching it, no, never that... But he hovered as closely as possible as he mumbled,

"Now don't you worry about little ole me, Honey."

You tilted your head as you stared down at the man kneeling before you, with a smile tugging at your lips you murmured,

"Who said I was?"

The two boys who worked the stables alongside their mentor, Elvis, began boredly kicking up some dust behind the man as the conversation had died down. One of the boys, Oliver accidentally made his kick too deep as it swung up and hit Elvis in the ass, making his body jump up slightly.

You and the boys began laughing as Elvis stood up and faced Oliver with a stone face. Suddenly it was just you and the other boy, Charles, laughing as Elvis chased Oliver around the stable. Eventually he'd caught up with the boy and lifted him by the back of his shirt.

"Kickin' me like I'm some steed, why I oughta..."

His teeth grit while Oliver yelped for help from you or Charles, being granted none because well, Oliver had it coming.

Elvis walked over to the wooden gates of one of the many horse stalls and hung the boy onto the corner of it by the back of his shirt. The boy yelped and hollered as Elvis stood next to him,

"Those two ain't gonna help ya till ya 'pologize, now whaddaya got to say?"

You stood up from the crate and shook your head with a smile as you made your way over, well aware that the head-strong 13-year-old Oliver wasn't going to apologize. As you reached up to attempt to grab him, Elvis eventually gave in and batted your small hands away,

"Now, now, you couldn't lift a canary out it's cage, I'll get 'im"

You smiled as the boy was lifted down, Oliver immediately ran to your arms, hugging you as you huffed out happily, "Oh poor baby"

As Elvis glared at the smug boy the sound of a creaky gate could be heard from afar. Elvis turned his head to the door leading out to the field and pointed to the boys,

"Oliver, Charles, go check on that, don't need another great escape of the horses"

The boys quickly ran out the door, Charles had started running before yelling back to Oliver, "Bet I'll beat ya to it" to which the younger boy whined as he chased him, "Hey no fair! No fair!!"

You laughed softly and shook your head, turning it to see Elvis' unimpressed stare. You shrugged and asked, "What?" as you made your way back over to your makeshift seat. He followed and lectured,

"Ya know you're too easy on 'em"

As you picked up the jacket that he had laid down for you to sit on so that your dress wouldn't get dust on it, you said pointedly,

"I'm not"

"Yeah ya are"

You turned to him with his now folded jacket in your arms and stared up at him as you replied,

"Am not"

He took a step forward, now staring down at you from almost straight above as he remarked,

"Are too"

As you stared directly up at him, and he down at you, the laughter of the boys outside and the sounds of nature had dulled into sweet background noise as you took in a familiar sound. Elvis' puffed style of breathing through his nose, like sweeps of waves in and out, heavy and heaving. You could almost feel the air leaving him dance along your nose and cheeks as the two of you stood so close.

With a gentle force, you pushed his folded jacket into his stomach and whispered,

"Am not"

As soon as the words left your lips you dropped the fabric into his grasp and quickly ran out the stables as fast as your heeled feet would let you. You could hear his playful huff for possibly one or two seconds, giving you time to just barely make your way out of the oak stable house until finally his vengeful arms caught you.

You squealed at a large pair of hands that wrapped around your waist just as your feet hit the grass.

Suddenly you were like a fairy, your feet lifted from the ground as you continued on your path, Elvis running forward a few feet more before spinning you in a circle while in his grasp.

You couldn't help the laugh that left your lips, and below it all you could hear, or rather feel Elvis laugh into the fabric of your dress that covered your stomach, you deemed the fabric too thin as you felt his huffs of laughter somehow spill through, a warm feeling covering the skin of your stomach as an equally warm feeling filled it.

It was wrong. Granted feeling this way with any man other than your husband was wrong, but with Elvis, it was on a different level. Because it felt so right. Much more right than it ever felt with your husband.

As you stared down at him, his arms still wrapped around you holding you up to a height taller than him, his head was angled in a way that made his chin poke into your stomach with how closely he held you. His eyes just barely poked out to look at you from below your breasts. 

Any other man would take a glimpse, a look. But not Elvis, and that fled you with a feeling worse than one you would've felt if he were like any other man. You weren't a woman in his eyes, you were simply a girl, neglected by her aging husband, wasting her days playing out in the field with the two boys or braiding the hair of the maid's daughters.

What a silly girl you must be to think a man like him would want you. When even your own husband wouldn't go near you.

He let out a breath as he set you back to the ground, you were quick to smooth out the pillowy skirt of your dress. As you turned to the loud joyous laughs of the two young boys you couldn’t help your smile as you watched them chase one of the horses that managed to escape after the latch on the field's gate had popped open.

You’d already been scolded twice by Alexander, your husband, for letting some of his best racing horses get loose.

You bit the back of your knuckle, noting to yourself that you’d need to approach the butler about that troublesome latch. As if he read your mind, he soothed without even sparing your worried gaze a glance, “I’ll get that fixed, a little ashamed I let it sit around ‘til now…”

You looked over to him and replied with earnest,

“Oh but you shouldn’t feel that way. I’m,”

You cleared your throat and held your head much higher as if that would help you feel more confident in your statement,

“I’m the lady of the manor, it is my duty to tend to that. I’ll approach the butler promptly”

Now he looked down at you with a smirk tugging at half of his mouth and a quirked eyebrow, he questioned with amusement,

“Aren’tcha scared of the butler?”

Whatever false confidence you attempted to instill in yourself, was now out the window as you visibly shrank in on yourself and mumbled a quiet, “yeah…”

He only laughed softly and put a hand on your back, assuring,

“I’ll fix it Honey, don’t worry”

You smiled up at him, and gave a sincere, “Thank you Elvis”

“Madam! Madam!”

The both of you turned your heads to Charles who was running quicker than a bolt of lightning, of course followed by the slower, smaller bolt of lighting named Oliver. As soon as Charles had gotten close he slowed to a stop, bending over to catch his breath with his hands on his hips, you would’ve laughed if he hadn’t said,

“The Mister is home, saw his carriage”

Your smile stalled and fell to a much smaller one. You sighed softly and walked forward petting Charles’ hair back before mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. With that small gesture and one last bidding glance to your little group that made this manor feel like home, you departed, making the long trek back to the manor to greet your husband.

As Elvis watched you go, his hand that had previously rested on your back fell to his side, the warmth in it that came from your body heat which bled through the fabric of your dress now engulfed into a tight fist. Knuckles white and all as he looked down at the grass below him.

He only allowed himself one moment of silence before he tipped the rim of his hat and ordered,

“C’mon boys, got some racks to clean, then I’ll take y’all out for supper in town”

~~~~~

“Oh dear Madam! Where have you been? Goodness is this dust?! Have you been fooling around in the dirt once more?!”

You grimaced as Mary the head maid fussed over your appearance and began to attempt to beat the dust out of your dress’ skirt, in the way a school professor would beat the chalk out of a rag at the end of his lesson. It didn’t hurt much as she attempted to whack it out of your skirt, what filled you was not pain but rather shame. You were still treated as if you were a child, but that could be because you proved to act like one.

“Oh dear, this will have to do”

She then ushered you toward the manor’s great hall, connecting 3 wings of the manor to the main entrance, and as if it were a perfectly staged play, as soon as your feet landed in front of the door where the wife should always be when her husband comes home, your husband had entered the door on cue.

You bent your head slightly and cupped your hands in front of you as his familiar voice filled your ears. You felt a tinge of hope, today was a special day after all. 

It was your anniversary. The big anniversary! Five long years, you hoped that this would be the year. You’d finally be able to show your worth as a woman, to give your husband the greatest gift of all, and show him that buying- no, that marrying you wasn’t a mistake. 

He married you. He didn’t buy you. If he did then all those nights you spent fretting over him, telling your dear friends at boarding school about him, and writing lists and lists of letters to send to him just to remain unanswered, it would all have been a waste.

Your love would have been a waste.

No, stop thinking like that, it was different. And today all your hopes and dreams of the perfect life with your husband would come to fruition. They had to.

He first greeted the butler, tossing the man his coat and asking the man to bring some cigars to his office. He then turned to Mary and asked her if she could fix him a bath. And finally there was you.

As he placed a hand on your shoulder you lifted your head, hoping to find his stare, instead you only saw him pass by, the hand on your shoulder only remained long enough for him to say, “I trust you’ve stayed out of trouble”, and walk right on through the house.

Leaving you alone in the entrance. 

You swallowed thickly and suddenly you were taken back to your first time greeting him, having only reached the marriable age of 16 just a few days prior before you were rushed into a marriage with him, all because your parents had been offered a hefty sum of money as a Bridal Token.

You remember that day, you’d been dressed in your best, and as soon as he got in the door, he passed you by. The maids at the time who stood in the hall gave hushed murmurs to each other consisting of, “Seems she isn’t quite suitable for a man’s taste yet.”, and, “She still has some filling out to do”, and of course the occasional, “Poor, pitiful thing…”

It only made matters worse that after only a month of your time here, you’d practically been fired from your job as lady of the house. You mixed up all the documentation of the servants and their time they’d spent working here, your first social event hosted as the lady of the house went down in flames, literally. 

You thought candlelight would add a tender ambience to your teaparty, and beforehand you’d made handkerchiefs for all the ladies who would be in attendance. So as you were handing them out you accidentally hovered the fabric of one just a little too close to the candle and it caught flames, you dropped it to the table, but then the tablecloth caught flames and it just continued to spread and spread.

Thankfully your life saver, and the man who in the future would be one of your only friends, had come to your rescue. He quickly put the fire out and offered you along with the other aristocratic ladies his greetings.

That would be the last time you’d see him for the next two years however, as your husband deemed it a wise choice to ship you off to an overseas boarding school. Leaving all of the town to gossip about what a horrid wife you must’ve made. Some rumors even spread that he’d had you killed on the way to the docks.

Of course that wasn’t quite the case. As you now stood to inform everyone who deemed you a dead woman that while you were away you had accidentally caused a few more fires. But those are stories for another time.

“Oh Dear,”

You lifted your head at the soft voice you recognized, it was Josephine, a maid who you’d become close friends with. She quickly marched over and pulled you into her arms, and in that gesture you felt secure enough to fall apart in her arms, your tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your chin on her shoulder. 

“Oh now, it’s alright… What does he matter anyway?”

You pulled back and stared at her wide-eyed putting firm hands on her shoulders as you warned frantically,

“J-Josie, if somebody hears you say that they would throw you out!”

Josephine continued on firmly,

“So what if they do? At least I’ll have remained true to my character, much unlike the rest of these living corpses”

She said the last part with a bit more volume as if to get her message across to the said corpses, but no one was in the room to listen. You shook your head as more tears tracked down your cheek, smiling fondly before tucking your head into her neck for comfort, mumbling a cherishing, “Oh Josie…”

After she held you for a few moments, she mumbled encouragingly,

“He’s bound to call you to his bedroom tonight to go over what’s happened in the manor within the last fortnite he’s been gone… Why don’t we gussy you up, and show him what a woman you are..?”

You held your breath as if it were hope you were desperately clinging onto. Then you asked, with a tinge of excitement,

“You think so?”

She pulled back to look you in the eye,

“I know so!! Goodness, we’ll need lots of time, I’ve gotta get you in the bath now Honey!!”

She clasped your hand in hers as she led you up the stairs, the two of you giggling girlishly with each click of your heels.

~~~~~

After hours of scraping off any sort of scent on your body, you’d been plunged into a bath filled with rose petals and goat’s milk, soaking for only a rest of 10 minutes before being pulled out. Josie roughly rubbed in all sorts of smelling oils that your husband had traded from a merchant from the East. 

Your hair was let down to grace your figure as you slipped into a long silk nightgown, with sheer lace accents in all the special places, of course to maintain your dignity you wore a long silk robe over it all as you walked through the hallways.

As the doors opened you met eyes with your husband, he sat on the bed in his own robe, reading glasses on and a few documents in hand. He noticed you linger shyly at the door, so with a beckoning hand he offered,

“Come in”

You nodded and quietly clicked the door shut behind you, pulling your robe close to you as to not reveal the surprise, only when you sat at the edge of his bed staring up at him, did you let the shoulders of the robe fall, revealing the thin straps of your nightgown that revealed much of your collarbones.

You stuttered his name,

“A-Alex”

He stared down at his documents as he asked a disinterested, “Yes?”

You bit your lower lip nervously before asking shakily,

“Do you know what tonight is?”

He hummed for a moment and offered plainly,

“It’s the 22nd my Dear”

You looked down at your fidgety hands, did he not remember? You scooted closer to him, sitting on the edge of his bed by his thighs now. He only bothered to notice you as you placed a hand on his thigh. You mumbled quietly,

“It’s our anniversary Alex…”

He stared at you as if you were a foreign sight, then his lips pursed before he said uncaringly,

“Oh, why I suppose it is…”

While you held his gaze you shrugged the robe off, leaving you only in your risqué nightgown. He looked back down at his documents and continued,

“Well, happy anniversary then Darling, what did you get- I mean, did you like what you got?”

You felt tears well up in your eyes, you knew he never personally got you anything, it was always up to his aides to buy you things for your anniversary, but it still hurt being faced with that ugly truth so directly. You sniffled softly.

“Mhm, t-the jewels were absolutely stunning Alex, I- I really loved them…”

He smiled softly up at you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek as he hummed,

“I’m glad”

He pressed a gentle peck to your cheek, but before he could pull back you put an eager hand at the back of his head, fingers buried into his brown hair with strings of gray beginning to form within it.

You maneuvered your lips onto his and leaned forward with him as his head fell back on the pillow. Your hand that rested on his thigh lifted to a new resting point which was his chest. 

For a moment you felt a sensation entirely new, his mouth had opened just slightly just enough for him to let out a gasp of surprise, but as soon as that was over his tongue had dipped between your lips.

He only allowed himself that for a moment before pulling completely away and keeping a tamed hand on your chest to keep you back.

“Darling this-”

You said his name with dire need,

“Alex..!”

“No!”

Your movements came to a halt as he raised his voice, your body had stiffened. You hated when he yelled. He stared at you and sighed as he noticed the change in your composure. Alexander brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

You stood up and backed away, keeping your eyes trained on him for a reaction, he only waved you away, “Just..! Leave, Darling, please leave… Now.”

You sniffled one final time and ran out the room, as you slammed the doors open in your leaving you saw your dear friend Josephine who must’ve been listening at the door holding her nose. You were too flustered, sad, and embarrassed to regard her as you went running down through the halls of the manor and to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The night was long as you’d cried your heart out onto your pillow, Josephine was at your side as a faithful friend (and you made sure to apologize to her numerous times for hitting her nose with the door). And when morning finally did come, Josephine informed you that Alexander would be out on business for the next few days, as apparently something went wrong with a transaction he’d made when he was in the South.

But the days would continue on, as they had in the time he was gone. And for a while you could pretend that you didn’t have a husband, that you were just a rich, happy woman, entertaining her friends which consisted of a maid, a stable-man, and two stable-boys.

One of which had a weird way of showing his worry the next day:

“Jesus you look like one of  ‘em big-eyed bugs-”

Before Charles could continue his critique on your swollen eyes, Elvis had hit him in the back of the head and muttered, “Don’t take his name in vain you fool… And quit commentin’ on a lady’s appearance. Got a lot to say for someone missin’ a whole tooth up front there”

You smiled at Elvis which he returned back to you before continuing to carry a few wood planks over to the other side of the stable, some of the wood had begun to rot from the rainy season, which meant a tune up was needed.

You rubbed your eyes gently, murmuring more to yourself than anybody, “Do they look that bad?”

Sure you spent a large portion of the night crying, mainly from your own embarrassment rather than feeling sad that you didn’t lose your virginity, though that was a negative too.

You sighed softly as all the memories of the night before had replayed in your mind.

“Alright, are ya ready?”

You looked up at the familiar voice that seemed pointed toward you, and there stood Elvis, a flowy white blouse tucked completely back into his black trousers, it looked like he made some sort of attempt to dust off the dirt that had once been on it. In his hand he held a lead tied to the horse's bit ring.

You stared at him plainly and tilted your head in confusion, he scoffed and gently tapped the crate you sat on with his foot, “You’ve been mopin’ around all day. Really bringin’ the morale down for us workers ya know? So I’m doin’ us all a favor, I’m takin’ ya to town.”

Your eyes lit up, you hadn’t been to town in almost a year, the last time you went was to go shopping for the holidays. It’s not that you weren’t allowed to go, it’s only you never had someone to go with. Josephine worked long hours and when she wasn’t working she needed to tend to her mother, ah right you needed to send her mother something…

“...pie…”

The boys looked at you like you were crazy, and it was clear they’d been spending too much time with Elvis as he had the exact same, eyebrow-quirking expression slapped on his face as well.

You asked wide-eyed,

“Can we get pie while we’re in town? Josie’s mother has been under the weather and I’ve been wanting to send her something”

Elvis smiled fondly at you and walked around the horse, which was actually his personal horse, Rising Sun, to tie the lead around the other bit ring. 

“Sure Honey, we’ll go get pie, in fact let’s get three pies, one for Ms. Josephine’s mother, one for you, and one for me”

Charles chirped in pointedly,

“Ahem”

Elvis looked down at the rascal with a glare, you of course gave in and gently ruffled the boy’s hair, cooing softly, 

“And of course we won’t forget you two, what kind of pie would the two of you like?”

Oliver piped up with a mischievous smile,

“One for each right?”

Elvis sent the kid a look and mumbled,

“Don’t push it kid, we’re getting the two of ya whatever pie is on sale”

Charles elbowed Oliver and Oliver whined at the action, you laughed softly with a shake of your head as you reached to stroke Rising Sun’s mane. Elvis hollered to the boys as he finished settling the saddle,

“Now y’all keep an eye on the stables or there will be hell to pay and no pies”

You looked at Elvis with a fond smile, “You’re too hard on them”

“Nah, you’re just too easy”

With that he knelt down by the horse, resting his palms flat open on his knee for you to step on. You stared with an unsure gaze. “I’m wearing heels Elvis…”

He processed that for a moment, unsure of the difference it would make.

“And I’m wearin’ trousers? What difference does it make now?”

You sighed softly and reasoned,

“I don’t want to hurt your hand”

Elvis gruffed out, “What’s hurting right now is my other knee cause there’s a damn rock digging further into it as you dilly-dally. I’m not a piece a glass Doll, now c’mon”

You still looked hesitant. 

“Y’all sure are takin’ a while!!”

The both of you turned your heads to mischievous Oliver, Elvis hollered his way, “Now you hush up!”

He stood up abruptly and said, “You asked for it princess”, before picking you up, arms wrapped around where your thighs would be under your dress, you were practically slung over his shoulder, like he were some ogre kidnapping a princess.

You abruptly felt a change in angle and the feel of the saddle below you, Elvis crawled out from the layers of your dress and kept a steady hand on your waist as you tried to settle in. It’s been a while since you rode a horse, yes, but something seems different this time… Oh yes, now you remembered.

“Elvis, where’s the side saddle?”

The side saddle, it made it easy and was the couth way for women in dresses to ride a horse. Though now it seems the fashion of heavily layered dresses was going out the window, it was still helpful.

Elvis shook his head and informed, “Those things ain’t safe, they’re a thing of the past now Honey”

“W-Well how am I supposed to ride this?”

With a huff Elvis had mounted the horse, and you could feel his entire front against your backside. You tried to remind yourself it’s just casual. It’s just horse-back riding into town with a friend.

“It’s simple,”

As he settled in behind you, the two of you felt impossibly close. His mouth just happened to be inches away from your ear as he mumbled,

“All ya gotta do,”

One of Elvis’ arms wrapped around your waist to rest at your thigh, and the other barely had to reach over to rest at your other thigh, both of them connected as your legs dangled off the left side of Rising Sun.

You could feel the stubble of his cheek grace your own cheek as he peeked around to see his hands and the way you were positioned,

“Is spread ya legs”

This is more of a passion project that came to me, and I'm having so much fun with it so far! Plus, it's my first series so I'm very excited in general!!

[msbigredmachine]

On Sight - Part 1 (Jey Uso/OC)

The fact that we hate each other don’t mean we can’t fuck. Just don’t fall in love with me. Jey Uso/OC 4-part series.

Warnings: The usual smut, angry sex, toxic behavior, angst

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: A fellow reader/writer suggested an "enemies to lovers" trope. Well, here is part 1! Let me know what you think.

ON SIGHT MASTERLIST

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

PART 1 - HATE?

His big, callused hands clutched your hips and yanked your ass closer to him. He sank himself back into you, uttering a low moan. You spread your legs wider for him, feeling his pelvis nudge against your backside. He squeezed your ass, giving the juicy skin a hard slap before rapidly thrusting into you.

With your face pressed to the mattress, you bit into the bedsheet to contain your moans. Your toes curled, tensing yet again from his forceful movements. You felt him shudder inside you and you arched your back some more, wanting him deeper.

"You're fuckin’ impossible," Jey growled, smacking your ass again.

"Ion wanna hear it, just fuck me." Your voice was supposed to come out angry and impatient, but instead it was high-pitched and pleading. 

He leaned down to kiss on your neck, the feel of his gold chain on your skin causing your nipples to strain against the soft sheets beneath you. You clung to them as he yanked your ass up higher and drove deeper into you, making you take all his dick. He smacked your backside again, and a muffled squeal of pleasure escaped you as your pussy squeezed his dick. Immensely turned on, you reached between your legs and touched yourself, your fingers brushing over his thrusting cock, increasing stimulation. His roughness and dominance was exhilarating. He was excellent at controlling your body, amplifying your pleasure to the max. You would never admit it to him, though, cuz you would never hear the end of it.

Without warning, he shoved your hand away from your pussy. In retaliation, you reached back and hit him in the torso, hard, your fist bouncing off the ridges of his abs. He spanked your ass repeatedly as punishment, at least ten times, grinning when you cried out from the stinging pain. He ran his palm over the curve of your ass, his thumb teasing your asshole with your juices before pushing inside with relative ease. Your muscles contracted and twitched around him, heightening both your pleasure.

"Damn you, motherfucker, fuuuck," you groaned, rolling your hips in time with his, rocking up and down his dick and his thumb simultaneously.

Jey exhaled a breathy moan. "You know how good I make you feel," his thumb curled inside your tight asshole, causing you to clench around him yet again, "Yet you keep callin’ me out my name."

"Don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t all that,” you lied, “That dick is better when I fantasize about it.” Pushing up on your elbows, your upper body twisted to face him, and you almost took your words back. He looked so sexy; his naked body was slick with sweat, his beard gleamed with your essence, having buried his face in it minutes ago. The look of pure pleasure on his features had you itching to touch yourself again.

Jey’s smirk was sinfully ice-melting. “Still talkin’ shit, huh?” 

"Damn right," you said through gritted teeth, "That’s what you get for being so fuckin’ arrogant, it makes me so-" 

Your words evaporated when all of a sudden, he pushed himself all the way inside you and held himself there. As he did, a lewd, loud squelch echoed around the bedroom. The sound came from your pussy.

"Wet?" he finished smugly.

He did that shit on purpose, but damn it, he was right. You were literally dripping down your legs and you were only going to get wetter. You would have been annoyed if it didn’t feel as amazing as it did.

"You’re so fuckin pretty, princess. If only your words weren't so ugly."

He resumed thrusting, fucking you harder. Clearly determined to drive you insane, and it was working. His groans blended with yours as the speed of his thrusts increased, and you knew he was just as close to climax as you were.

“You think you so much better than me, huh,” he snarled. He removed his thumb from your anus and squeezed your ass cheek in his rough palm. "Yet here you are, soaking wet for me, moaning my name, about to come all over my dick.” 

He throbbed inside you as he spoke, and, as predicted, it made you wetter. Every limb and muscle you owned thrummed with pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling hard enough to force a deeper arch to your back. His heavy balls slapped your clit repeatedly, drove you mad with need, the need to release. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you voiced out breathlessly, fingers digging into the blankets in front of you. His strokes were god-tier, hitting all the right spots. The man was in your stomach and you were seeing stars. "Mmmm, right there, right fucking there…”

"Shit feel good, don’t it?” Jey bragged, “You love this dick, that’s why you keep runnin’ yo mouth, you want me all up in them guts just like this."

"Fuck you," you repeated, tears springing to your eyes when he started to ease up out of nowhere. "Damn it, go faster, I’m so fuckin’ close," you whined.

"Shut the fuck up. You come when I say you come," he snapped. His thrusts slowed, and he swiveled his narrow hips, dragging his dick along your inner walls. Taking matters into your hands, you bounced yourself on his dick, fucking him right back. Grunting in frustration at your stubbornness, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you down, but you would not be denied your nut, or his.

“Damn, girl, damn,” he gasped. It sounded like gunshots going off from how hard you were throwing it back, bouncing your thick ass noisily and forcefully on his dick like you had a point to prove. His grip on your waist slackened, his grunts softened into higher-pitched, intimate moans as his body gave in to numbing pleasure. 

"Don't you dare come before me," you warned, capitalizing on his moment of weakness by grinding your ass on him, creating more of a thrust with your combined movements. Jey held you down against the bed with his big body, smothering you in the best way. His fingers found your pussy folds, applying firm and rapid pressure as he drilled you into the mattress. His touch kindled your blazing fire, the dam within you waiting to burst and release all the tension inside.

“You close, baby?” Jey asked you. When you didn’t reply right away, he brought his hand down hard on your butt. “I asked you a question. Answer me!”

“Mmm, nghhh, yes, baby, I’m about to come. Fuck!”

“Ya damn right. You gon’ come for me like the slut you are." He rubbed your pussy faster and kept pounding into you, hearing you whimper as you both neared the precipice.

You couldn’t stop the chorus of curses pouring from your lips as the wave of indescribable ecstasy rose, peaked, and then plummeted. You came hard on his dick, your body melting and trembling all at once. His already sloppy thrusts now sounded wetter than ever as your cum dripped between you, adding more friction to his deadly strokes.

"Aww, fuck..." he moaned, suddenly pulling out of you and jerking his dick in his fist. His entire body stiffened, and with a strangled groan he exploded all over your backside. A tired purr escaped your lips as you felt his warm seed spill onto your skin. Your pussy clenched from the added sensation as you struggled to recover from the intense orgasm.

"Shiiit," Jey drawled as he rested his drained dick between your ass cheeks, thrusting briefly to ensure he was all done. He gave your ass one last squeeze and dropped back down to the bed with a sigh of satisfaction. His body was warm next to you, and you fought the urge to move in for a cuddle. You never cuddled or kissed afterwards. Not when you hated his guts and he hated yours. You both lay side by side, breathing hard, basking in the aftermath of yet another bad decision.

He climbed out of the bed to retrieve his clothes. You fished out a blunt from your side drawer and lit one up, the first puff soothing your lungs. As you watched him get dressed, you found yourself regretting your impulsive decision to fuck him. You then wondered why you even bothered with regrets - you and Jey fucked practically every day.

Buttoning up his denim shirt, Jey glanced your way and then crooked his index finger at you. Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly tucked your blunt between his waiting lips, watching him take a long drag and shorten your ration. Greedy fucker.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, standing up from the bed. 

You let out a derisive snort, blowing out a ring of smoke. “No. Fuck off.” 

A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he headed for the door. That was always your answer, but you both knew better. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll see you then, baby.”

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

God, you hated him. 

You despised him with every fiber of your being. He was the bane of your existence. You hated his chiseled face. You hated his cute ass dimples. You hated the way he wrestled in the ring. You hated his breathtaking smile. You hated his high-pitched, funny laugh. You hated that everyone thought he was so cool. Basically, you hated everything about Jey Uso. Each time you laid eyes on him, your blood always boiled from just how much you despised his sorry ass. 

Like now. As you glared at the back of his head while he went over the upcoming backstage segment with the director. He was wearing that crop top again, showing off his lean body and the new tattoo on his rib cage. The art was loud and garish, yet all you wanted to do was run your tongue over that same expanse of skin and make him moan for you.

Yeah, these mixed feelings were not helping at all.

You jumped when the director called your name, informing you that filming was about to begin. You caught a glimpse of Jey’s smirk as he entered the Bloodline’s locker room, knowing damn well he was the reason for your distraction. Fighting the urge to throttle him, you focused on the director’s countdown which was seconds away.

“And…go!”

“We are here in front of the Bloodline’s locker room, just moments after Roman Reigns suffered a beatdown at the hands of Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens earlier tonight. He’s refused to be treated in the trainer’s room, choosing instead to remain in his locker room where the doctors are attending to him.” You tried to look concerned, immersing yourself into your role as backstage interviewer. “I’m hoping I can catch one of the members of the Bloodline for an update on the Tribal Chief’s condition.”

On cue, Jey emerged from the locker room, shoulders squared, trademark sneer on his face showing off his grill. Your mouth watered against your will. 

“Oh, joining us right now is one half of the undisputed Tag Team champions, Jey Uso. Jey, what can you tell us about Roman’s current condition? And can we get a comment on Sami’s remarks about putting an end to the Bloodline once and for all at Wrestlemania?”

Shit, he smelled so good. You were barely listening to his promo, mesmerized by his soft lips and the way they moved as he spoke. But professionalism came first, and so you motored on, finishing the segment without a hitch.

“And cut! Great job, guys!”

Flustered, you quickly backed away, keeping your distance as the crew dispersed. After a quick parting chat with the director, you then  pulled out your phone as you started to leave the area. You had barely taken two steps when Jey appeared in front of you, blocking your path.

“What the fuck was that?”

You made a show of rolling your eyes. “What the fuck was what, Uso?”

“That last part. That wasn’t how your lines were in the script. You was tryna trip me up!” he accused, glaring down at you.

“How? I couldn’t remember a part of it so yeah, I improvised. If you still don’t understand the concept after fourteen years in the business then that’s your problem, not mine.”

“No, my problem is you making me look bad with your bullshit. Stop playin’ with me, woman!” he shouted, pointing all five fingers in your face in that annoying way he did when he was arguing.

The nerve of this motherfucker. “News flash, uce, I don’t need to make you look bad. You do that all by yourself, with ya bra top-wearing, mullet-havin’ ass! This ain’t the eighties, homie.”

Letting out a scoff, he moved just a little closer to you, looking you up and down. “You ain’t have a problem with my mullet when I’m eatin' that pussy, though,” he leered.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You looked around hastily, hoping no one had caught that. Luckily it seemed to be only the two of you in the vicinity. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you retorted.

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” he snarled, looming over you, eyes wide and dark and menacing. “Look at you. Walkin’ round here like you own the damn company. You don’t own shit, princess. You’re a wannabe Renee Young, a dime a dozen and you can be replaced like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

You raised your eyebrows with a smirk. “Ooh, so much anger. Did Roman bitch you out again, huh? That why you so mad? Maybe you’re looking for someone to take out your anger issues on. So go ahead, Jey. Hit me.” You stepped right up to him, getting in his face. “Ain’t that what you want? To punch me in the face? To wrap your hands around my throat and choke me?”

For once in his life, he was speechless. He was stunned by your audacity and you reveled in it. Your smirk darkened. “Then do it. Do it out here where everyone can see you. I know you want to.”

The Tag champ leaned even closer, and for one terrifying second, you thought that he was going to do it. You could see the wheels turning in his head and braced yourself for another verbal assault, or worse. 

What happened next, however, came out of left field. He snatched your phone right out of your hands and darted into his locker room, slamming the door shut. For a long moment, you stood there out in the hallway, dumbfounded. And then, the rage took over, sweeping through your body, and you threw the door open, almost breaking off the handle as you charged inside. The room was empty, meaning you could throw hands with zero innocent casualties. 

“Gimme back my phone,” you demanded, holding your hand out. 

Jey held up the device, dangling it temptingly above him as he backed away. “It’s right here, come get it,” he taunted, yanking it out of reach right as you made a grab for it. “Come on girl, you can do better than that.”

“Jey, give me my goddamn phone!” You lunged again, and he twisted away from you and tossed it blindly over his shoulder. Your heart was almost in your mouth as you watched it barely miss the glass coffee table and land safely on the couch. You glared at him incredulously, your hands clenched into fists. “You are the most childish, immature person I have ever met! You’re infuriating!” you yelled.

“Careful princess, that’s a mighty big word for you,” Jey mocked. The glee in his eyes was almost disturbing.

“You fucking asshole!” You took a swing at him, but he caught your wrist before the blow could connect. In the same move, he shoved you roughly, an audible ‘oof’ expelling from your lungs as your back collided with the wall. Before you could strike again, he seized both your hands and pinned them together above your head with his much larger hand. You struggled against him, your feet and knees a blur, trying to get a shot in. You were no match for his strength, but that would never stop you from trying.

"Let go of me you dickhead...let me go!" You accentuated your demand with a strong tug on your immobilized hands. Your chest heaved angrily as you looked into his eyes. What stared back at you was a mix of fury and lust and need that you had never seen before. The sexual tension crackled in the air between you like electricity.

Uttering a soft growl, Jey dipped his head and kissed you. Hard. His mouth working yours as though he owned it. You bit down on his lip equally hard, drawing blood. Jey jerked back in pain and touched his mouth. If looks could kill, you would both be dead.

“Do that again and you'll regret it,” he snarled.

“Try me, bitch,” you spat, your words cut off by his lips crashing back onto yours. Your teeth scraped briefly right before his tongue slid inside your mouth for an earth-shattering, toe-curling kiss. His large hand seized you by the throat, keeping you pinned to the wall. You moaned into his mouth, mad at him and at yourself for how aroused you were by his aggressiveness. That, along with his tongue darting in and out of your mouth and his groin grinding against your center, made your pussy throb. You arched again with another moan, still pulling on your hands, this time wanting to touch him instead of pushing him away.

"You just love testin' me, don't you," he spat, finally releasing your hands to reach under your short dress. He located the edge of your black thong, and with a swift brutal movement, tore the skimpy lace off your body. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up effortlessly, slipping his body between your legs. He fumbled briefly with his sweatpants, and you couldn't keep a moan from escaping your lips as he entered you, hard. Speechless, eyes dilated, you were certain you were about to combust already. Each press of his hips slammed you spine-first into the wall, but you absorbed it all, processing the pain to pleasure.

“I fucking hate you,” you murmured.

“You hate me, but you love how good I fuck you,” he countered, bending his knees and powering deep into your warm depths, “You hate me, but you in my bed every other night, givin’ me this pussy. So why you lyin', huh?”

His glazed eyes remained on your features as he pumped into you with long, exquisite strokes. A shiver passed through him as your tight little cunt squeezed and moistened around his pumping cock, demanding more of the sinful pleasure he gave you. You threw your head back with a whimpering cry as he started to fuck you harder, the wet smack of your bodies echoing around the spacious locker room. Your arms and legs tensed around him, holding on tight as he punished your pussy without mercy. It was the same salacious cycle. Below-the-belt verbal attacks, prodding and provoking each other until you were fucking each other’s brains out. A unique version of foreplay that never failed to get you or him off.

Pushing off the wall, Jey carried you further into the locker room, still inside you. As he walked, you squirmed out of his arms and pushed him onto the nearby couch, straddling his lap before he could regain his bearings.

"Aht aht, don't fuckin' move," you commanded, grabbing his dick and sliding it back inside you in record time. You both moaned as your walls stretched around his impressive girth. You bounced on it, gasping loudly as you picked up speed. Jey tugged the front of your dress down to cup your exposed breasts, fondling them, pinching your nipples hard. Your pussy rippled in response and you started to grind on him, working your clit against the base of his cock and stimulating you to no end.

Jey’s hands found your hips, watching your slick flesh slide over his own in an enticing rhythm. Teasing your right nipple with his tongue, he sucked it into his mouth and reveled in your high pitched moan. “Fuckin’ good pussy,” he breathed, “Fuck me, baby. Ride my dick just like that.”

Too turned on to reply, you settled for kissing him passionately, your fingernails raking his heaving chest. He moaned against your lips, his large hands patrolling your back and your ass. Tucking your face into his neck, you gripped the armrest for leverage and rode him harder, your ass slapping loudly against his lap as you dropped your pussy aggressively on his hard length. 

“Oh my god,” Jey groaned, feeling his orgasm creep closer. Your mouth wreaked havoc on his neck, your inner muscles clenched around him with each downward motion you made, causing him to grunt and jerk his hips up into you. His hand then scraped downwards to your ass, holding you in place as he started to thrust up into you from his seated position, taking back control. Your moans and his grunts got louder, the heat ratcheted up, ever closer to what was sure to be a mind-blowing climax.

“You comin’ for me, baby?” he hissed, slapping your ass and tugging your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I can feel you, tell Daddy that you’re comin’.”

“Fuck! I'm comin', I'm comin'!” you whimpered, your eyes in the back of your head. You tried to move again, wanting to regain the upper hand, but his grip was too strong, holding you hostage as he thrust deeper, right up against your g-spot. "Fuck, Jey!" 

"C'mon," he rasped, teetering on the brink.  

The orgasm that tore through you left you gasping for air, riddling your body with tremors. Your pussy squeezed his dick so hard that it triggered his own release. His other hand shot down, gripping your ass cheek as he emptied his load with a breathless groan.

Weak and boneless, you collapsed on his chest with a deep sigh. Jey enveloped your prone frame in a hug and you both stayed silent for a few minutes, waiting for your hearts to stop pounding. When your breathing was back to normal, he guided your face to his and kissed you, his lips sweeping gently over yours. This took you by surprise. You never kissed after sex. But you embraced it, embraced the surprisingly tender gesture that made your bones melt. You gasped softly, your heart raced as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth and then sucked it back into his mouth, his lips caressing yours in teasing strokes.

"I still hate you," you said, your voice soft and small despite the harsh declaration.

Jey chuckled, nuzzling the curve of your neck and dropping a soft kiss there. “I know. I hate you too,” he murmured, sliding his lips northwards until they met yours again.

“I fucking knew it.”

The new voice spun you around, the horror visible on your features. Roman Reigns stood across the room, wearing the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. You’ve never moved so fast in your life, scrambling off of Jey and hurrying to fix your dress.

“You didn’t lock the damn door?” you hissed at him.

“What? You came in after me!” he squeaked, pulling his pants back up.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m so sick of your shit!” Snatching your phone off the couch, you scampered out of the locker room, not daring to make eye contact with Roman as you passed him. How fucking embarrassing, getting caught in 4k like this. You knew you should have been more careful, but it was much easier to put the blame on that ass Jey Uso. He couldn't do anything right, anyway!

Annoying ass punk. Dude was lucky he could fuck.

———-------

All alone in the bowels of his cousin's tour bus, Jey watched you chop it up with Kayla Braxton and special guest Cody Rhodes on the latest livestream of The Bump on YouTube. Your work on the show and on other WWE platforms, aided by your magnetic personality and penchant for randomly wearing the merch of your favorite Superstars and legends, earned you millions of admirers from around the world and backstage. It was probably why you thought you were the shit, with your fancy ass Masters Degree and Ivy League training. If only your beloved fans knew what a bitch you really were.

Several months on, he still couldn’t figure out what it was about you that made him so irritated, yet so attracted to you at the same time. When you first met, you were rude to him over a misunderstanding and had an attitude ever since. That encounter ignited a fierce rivalry that scorched earth in the workplace and eventually...shockingly...in the bedroom.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, the first time you kissed him. Or he kissed you. He still wasn’t sure who made the first move, but his life has not been the same since then. Now, everything was a competition between you, behind the scenes and between the sheets; every kiss, every time you tumbled into bed together, his desire matching yours step by step, daring each other to keep up with the other. Sex with you entailed getting pushed beyond his limits, with you doing things you knew would piss him off such as scratching the hell out of him, biting, and/or fighting him. You had a potty mouth and a mean streak a mile wide, and honestly, that shit turned him on. Yes, some of your verbal jabs cut deep, but he realized, quite morbidly, he would gladly endure them if it guaranteed he would be left weak-limbed, drained and satisfied when you were through with him. And he was. All the time. He hated how much he craved you, and to know that the feeling was mutual made his days that much more exciting. 

“So, how long have y’all been fucking?”

Roman came into his view, a trademark smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Twenty-four hours had passed since the Tribal Chief’s…discovery…in his locker room, and he hadn't said a word about it. Until now. Exhaling heavily, Jey grabbed his beer for a long gulp, deciding there was no point in lying. “About six, seven months,” he disclosed.

“Deadass?”

“Uh huh.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off the TV. He noticed how close Cody sat next to you, noted the way you entertained his little flirty gestures. It was public knowledge that Rhodes was down for the swirl. For all he cared, you were probably fucking him too, and for some reason that irked his soul.

Roman joined his cousin in the lounge area. “I always knew you'd either end up killing each other or fucking each other. It makes so much sense now. The tension between y’all was giving sexual vibes more than anything.” The Undisputed Champ smiled and shook his head. "So when you gon’ tell her you have feelings for her?"

Jey nearly choked on his beer. "The fuck?! What feelings? We hate each other! We always have!"

Bullshit. He had seen the way Jey looked at you yesterday and it definitely was not with hatred. He wondered how he had ever missed it. “Right. Humor me then. Why do you hate her? Do you even know?”

“Easy. She’s a bitch.”

“That’s Jey-speak for she’s pretty as fuck,” Roman dismissed.

Jey’s lip curled with disgust. “She’s obnoxious!”

“A.K.A. I like how she don’t take shit from nobody, especially my sorry ass.”

“She thinks she’s so much better than everybody else,” Jey argued.

“That’s Jey-speak for she's too classy for my country, ghetto ass.” Roman chuckled heartily. His boy was down bad. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d have been shocked. Remember Kendra Jones from high school?” When Jey averted his eyes, he pushed on, determined to make his point. “Yeah, I remember. Your punk ass teased her for months and it turned out you were crushing on her the whole time. This is exactly how you were, all flustered like this. You a grown ass man now, Jey. Quit playin' games and tell that girl you’re in love with her.”

Oh, hell fucking no. “I am not in love, stop puttin' shit in my head!”

Roman shook his head. “For real though, you two are weird. You ‘hate’ each other yet you’re sleeping together. That’s some toxic shit.”

"Ay yo, mind your damn business Uce. I won’t tell you again," Jey spat, getting agitated.

"It became my business when y'all fucked in my locker room!"

"Look, I’m sorry about that, a'ight? It was in the heat of the moment."

“I’m sure it was,” the Tribal Chief smirked.

“Whatever, dude.” No longer in a talking mood, he stood up and headed for the sleeping area.

“By the way, you should do somethin' 'bout that hickey on your neck!” Roman called out.

Ignoring him, Jey shut the door and climbed into his bed, weary and conflicted. His thoughts kept returning to you, and he hated it. His cousin was dead wrong. Everything he said about you was true. 

So why couldn't he stop thinking about you? Why did he always dream about you whenever he fell asleep? 

Forcing his eyes shut, he tried to block you out of his mind as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

At the same moment, as you lay in your own bed, you were staring up at the ceiling, imagining what Jey might be doing, and wondering why the fuck you cared.

Because you’ve caught feelings, girl…

Panic set in, and you shook your head adamantly. "No, no I’ve not. He don’t even like me,” you said aloud to yourself, in the emptiness of your hotel room. “This has to stop. I have to stop sleeping with him. It’s not healthy for either of us."

Yet, all you can think about is his eyes…and his mouth…and the way it feels when he touches you…

You sighed and tried to go to sleep, hoping your dreams would not be invaded yet again by the one man in the world you detested the most.

In your dream, you and Jey were a big happy family, living in a big beautiful house in a lovely suburban neighborhood. Your baby daughter sat on his lap as the three of you enjoyed dinner together.

END OF PART 1

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

Surprise!

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[derelictlovefool]

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— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧.

Notes: Miniseries my ass—Don't forget to read Part One, Two and Three! Are you ready for Wade POV :) Typical Meta and fourth wall breaking ahead. Wade gets his action sequence and reader gets some mild trauma but they're cool about it.

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, decapitation, blood and gore, unhealthy relationships, angst, explicit language, hospital mention

Words: 4k

Wade was like a gargoyle, the personal gargoyle of your shitty little apartment elevator. Stone still in the back with his arms crossed and head down—no one else daring to step into the cramped space with him anytime the doors opened. He'd been in there for the better half of the afternoon, going up and down the floors at the will of others button presses but not working up the guts to step onto your floor. Part of him hoped the doors would open and you'd be standing there, make the decision for him and pull him out of it or step in with him so you could both ride the hellevator of your relationship problems together.

The problems that he wasn't stupid enough to ignore were all his fault.

He was pissed, pissed at himself, pissed at the fuckers who got him into this mess and most of all pissed at the author for putting you two together and giving him a chance to fall so fuckin' badly in love with you. These guys never gave him a break in the love department and if he ever got his hands on them he'd shove their keyboards and pens right up their asses—It was the plot's fault that it hinged on the breakup trope, he and you the unwilling puppets strung along to amuse and entice whoever clicked on the title in their fanfic scroll.

The doors to the elevator opened and your building's security guard, Rich, stared back at him, nervous and tired as all hell. Any other day Wade would have been happy to see him. But right now he wanted to decapitate anyone who didn't have your simmering eyes, he just wanted to see you.

"Heya Wade, uh, people have been callin' the office about a thug in the elevator. Think you could uh," He gestured to the front door of the building and Wade would have tossed him out of it himself had he not soon followed up. with the fact you weren't even home. He froze, hand slapping on the closing doors and shoving them open as he barged out of the elevator.

"Where the fuck are they then?" He snapped, a sudden fear and fury overtaking him as he gripped the guard's uniform tightly. The one time he offered you some privacy and didn't follow you home of course something fucking happened, it was just his damn rotten luck. Rich trembled under his masked gaze and tried to lean back as far as humanly possible.

"I-I have no idea! Didn't come home last night, just assumed they were with you!" He yelped as Wade tossed him to the side, storming out of the building with homicidal intent rolling off of him in waves. A kidnap plot—his favourite. Note the sarcasm. He fumed as he hopped into the car he'd parked on the curb, not his, he didn't own one—he was borrowing this one. Indefinitely. He sped off, at first he was too blindsided by his anger to know where he was going but as it began to simmer realisation bit into the back of his skull like a sneaky bullet.

The fuckwads from the gig. The ones that said if he didn't behave like a good doggy they'd pop a cap in your pretty skull—He should have taken the risk and taken 'em all out Keanu style when he had the chance. But he got preoccupied by, well, you, and trying to get you as far away from him as possible. He was scared, plain and simple. Out of everyone he couldn't watch you get hurt because of him—ironic as he hurt you all the same. Maybe even worse.

After a hasty u-turn and aggressive tapping of coordinates into the shitty GPS Wade put his foot on the gas; his grip on the wheel tight enough to bend the metal beneath the silicone protection. All of this, all of the pain, the nights alone and the nights watching you cry while watching your comfort movies—all of it for nothing! The same song and dance he'd been avoiding was playing out all the same. He scowled, cursed the hostage-for macguffin-trope and promised himself he would not sit through any monologues or negotiations. He was getting you out of whatever crusty basement they had you in and taking you home and then when he had you back; he wasn't letting go.

You could hate him, throw things at him, the whole lot; but he wasn't leaving your side ever again.

He couldn't handle it even when it was self inflicted, fuck whatever your therapist said about it. Fuck whatever anyone else said about it. He needed you, more than he needed oxygen—and back in the day people called that romantic, not unhealthy or concerning.

A wire fence gave way as Wade swerved into the shady, abandoned apartment complex lot. The car sputtered in defiance as he drifted to a stop in front of the building. They knew he was coming, if they didn't they were idiots. He jumped out, heading to the front door, he wasn't going to give them a dime or a batted eyelash but he didn't have time to sneak in the back. He needed to see you were okay and if there was even a hair out of place every mother fucker in this building was going lights out for good.

The doors creaked open, his heavy steps reverberated off the walls and the prior chatter died into bated breaths. When he rounded the corner into a large open room his sights zeroed in on you immediately, tied to a chair and eyes burning with fury and panic. Blood dripped from your lips and anger flared within him before he noticed the guy beside you on the floor clutching the bloody place where his ear used to be. Oh shit. Said ear stared back at him from the puddle on the floor by your feet and he had to admit, he was impressed and dare he say, a little hard.

He wished he could've seen that.

Fuck you were awesome.

"Are you waiting for something?" You asked him, voice strained as you ignored everyone else in the room; eyes solely on Wade. You had no doubts he was getting you out of here and that made his chest swell with some emotion he couldn't quite place. Pride? Love? All of the above?

He titled his head up, noting the faded tune of 'Hit the Road Jack' coming from another room. Oh good, a backing track. He tapped his foot and nodded along for a moment as he lifted his hands, guns were on him—and you, and he chuckled. A low and dark rumble that left the room feeling colder than when he walked in. These chucklefucks had no idea how bad of an idea that was. But they would find out.

"Alrighty sluggers, you ready to dance like monkeys while I take you down in nasty ways for the author's lil action sequence?" Confused looks were shot his way and quickly dismissed as he grabbed his guns in a smooth motion. Shooting two of the guys closest to you, the bullets whizzing through the air and nailing them both in the same eye. Blood and viscera smattered the wall as their bodies went down and you winced as some of it got on you. Whoops.

"Sorry babe." He sang, receiving an unimpressed and somewhat disturbed glare from you. Yeah okay, not funny, he got it.

Wade moved on to the guys nearest to him, neither fast enough to dodge and one got a nice fat bullet to the lower jaw; ripping through skin and cracking through bone as it cut through him like a hot knife. His body fell into the guy behind him who shrugged him off with terror in his eyes. Wade loved it when they got all squirmy, made him all tingly and warm inside. It was fun—for him, anyway. The other guy got a lovely little bullet to the nose, the cartilage shattered and the middle of his face bloomed like a red rose, his body flying back until he landed on the floor looking like a Francisco Goya painting.

What was Wade if not an artist and his weapon's his tools?

Shots began to fire, none from his gun and Wade got started on the left side of the room, swerving past a baseball bat before kicking it into the air and smacking the butt of his gun into the guy's nose. Blood squirted all over the front of Wade and he didn't flinch, sheathing one gun to catch the bat and toss it across the room at one of the guys taking shots at him. It hit him square in the face, breaking his shades and it knocked him back far enough that he tripped over a chair. Wade turned back in time to knock away a punch from the guy now bleeding profusely from his bruising nose.

"You look like you just watched a naughty anime buddy, you should really be careful because the guys upstairs can see everything in your search history," He grinned at the utter despair and confusion on the other man's face, taking even greater pleasure in headbutting him and kicking him back into three of his buddies.

Two other guys ran at his side and he dodged and weaved, shooting one in the kneecap and pulling out one of his swords; decapitating the other guy in a swift motion. As his head rolled off of his body, blood and bone and muscle spilled over the floor and Wade shot the screaming man in front of him in the head. Brain matter coating his boots much to his chagrin, he pulled a face no one could see and tried to shake the shit off of him.

"Nameless bad guy number five got his brain goo all over my boot, gross."

"Wade!" Your voice cut through the pandemonium, followed by a cacophony of gunshots and Wade felt his body ripped open at multiple points. It hurt, it always did, feeling the shrapnel dig into his muscles and the bullet skid past his bones. The ones that hit his fun zone were always the worst and he made a show of bending over and groaning unhappily. His one good feature just got turned into swiss cheese. Again.

He looked up at you, making sure the fire show was reserved solely for him and there was something about the worry in your eyes that stirred something within him. You still cared, even if he wouldn't die you cared that he was getting hurt. That was something. More than enough.

He pushed himself back into action, sword swinging and cutting a guys arm off, gun lifting and blowing a guy's junk into oblivion—the howl of agony a nice backing track to the slowly fading in 'If I could Turn Back Time' by queen Cher herself. Maybe this was it, the big show that he was willing to go through hell to get back to you. Once he'd finished off these guys and untied you, you'd throw your arms around him and he'd get to whisk you off into the sunset. He smiled as he kebabified mister one arm and mister no junk in one go, their bodies tossed to the ground by inertia as he slid his sword back. He spun across the bloody pool of a floor, right into the path of a knife that twisted into his abdomen painfully—but he was too lost to his daydream to give a fuck.

He tucked his gun under the guys chin and blasted his brains out with a boyish glee, sheathing that gun as well to rip the knife out of his gut and toss it into the head of the guy who had the gall to leave the fight and start running toward you. It landed in his temple, slotting in like a perfect tetris piece and his body fell by your feet. You flinched and closed your eyes, rearing Wade back into reality somewhat. Now wasn't time to be playing, you absolutely weren't having fun so neither could he. Double time.

The last two guys went down with fierce efficiency and Wade cleaned off his sword in the crook of his elbow, sliding it back into its place as he rounded the back of your chair.

"Are you—"

"Just get me the fuck out of here Wade." Your words were sharp even though they were quiet—shaky. Wade shut his mouth with a clack of teeth. His jaw tensed as he cut the ropes on your wrists with his tactical knife and freed you from the chair. You didn't jump into his arms, more like fell limply against his chest in exhaustion as he picked you up. He could see scuffs on your skin, dried blood and scratches that made his blood boil. He'd come back and do some unspeakable performance art with these bozos corpses later, if only to make himself feel better for not being there to stop them getting you in the first place.

Having you back in his arms cemented a few things to him, cradling you to his chest and feeling the rise and fall of your own reminded him of so many nights where you were fast asleep next to him trusting your life in his hands. Something not one other person ever did, which was wise, really. But having your arm over his shoulder and knowing how you'd been so sure of him saving you; he needed that. In the world of people that saw him as a failure of a human being who was only good at killing and nothing else he needed you, who had always seen him as something more. Something that could be good, even when he did everything to prove you wrong.

He took you to the hospital despite your protests and stayed by you as they checked you over and patched you up, he threatened each and every one and you scowled and told him to shut it each and every time. It was almost like old times except you looked fatigued and sad and he was rougher and angry. When you were good to go Wade tossed around a few bills and walked out the front door hot on your heels, it was only when you started walking in the opposite direction of his car did he reach out to stop you.

"Wade—" You let him turn you around but you kept your feet planted in place and his heart twisted as your usual facade of anger had melted away into utter sadness and confusion.

"You just got kidnapped and you wanna take the bus?" He asked and you shook your head, but still didn't move. A beat of tense silence filled the space between you before you shrugged and laughed roughly, his hands hovered; wanting nothing more than to hold you again and ward off that blanket of hurt covering you.

"Were those the guys that shot you into a black hole?"

You didn't look at him as you asked and he slowly nodded.

"Yeah. I skimped on my end of the bargain and they thought they could get back at me, I'll take care of it, you'll be okay." He tried to sound reassuring, but his whole being was the opposite of that word. He would be making them all go away, that wasn't a question and he knew you wouldn't doubt that. As soon as someone went after the people he cared about, the list being very short and easy to find, they weren't destined to be in this plane of reality for much longer. They all joined the pile of the dead nameless characters only put in place to show off his wicked skills and mad devotion.

Of which he had entirely too much, he felt like he could burst at the seems from all the feelings inside him specifically labelled with your name. How could one person consume him so wholly? He had never figured it out and he doubted he ever would; despite the obvious inclination to wonder if it was the puppeteer playing him the feelings he felt were far too real and too deep to just be shrugged off as some shallow dialogue. You and him, right here and now, you were real and what you made him feel was real.

And right now he had a whole lot of fear.

You shook your head and turned away from him again, a humourless smile on your face that was hard to look at. Wade watched on carefully as you wrapped your arms around yourself and felt his arms fall to his side.

"I don't think I will be," you looked back at him, "I don't think we will be." That was the opposite of what Wade wanted to hear. He played through the scenario where he threw you over his shoulder and put you in the car, driving you home and ignoring everything you had to say about it. He tried to figure out if being with you and having you actively hate him and trying to get away from him was better than letting you go and getting the small moments of less than stellar small talk or worse; total silence.

Both sounded like garbage.

"I want to go home Wade."

"Then get in the car." He gestured back to the lacklustre scrap of metal and you shook your head, a small action that felt worse than the bullets that had ripped through him earlier. He felt his frustration boiling over, he wanted to rewind time and take back all of his stupid mistakes and all the angry words you'd thrown at each other the last few weeks. He just wanted you. He swore you still wanted him too.

"I can't."

For a moment Wade just stared at you, long and hard as you stepped away from him. He really felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place and definitely not in a good way. The worst way possible actually. He racked his brain for what to do and grovelling and being honest seemed the only way to move forward that didn't end in you running away from him for the rest of your life. As much as being stupid or aggressive would have been so much easier, he had enough brain left to realise that's how he ended up here in the first place.

"I can't lose you." He hated the way the words sounded so fragile in his mouth, he wanted to bite his tongue off as soon as he said it. You looked just as surprised as he was by him saying it and your mouth fell open as you failed to put together a reply. He watched as you pulled yourself together, the small physical cues he'd mesmerised showing him you were trying desperately to keep up the wall that had been slowly building up. But he wasn't gonna let you hide from him, not now.

"You already let me go, Wade."

He knew that, the reminder stung and he shook his head to rid himself of the flashes of your pained face, the tears he'd seen you shed when you thought you were alone.

"I fucked up, I'll wear that. I fuck up all the time and I'll keep fucking up but I," He sucked in a deep breath, holding his hands out to the side as he stepped forward, "I love you. You are the only good fuckin' thing in my life and I thought as long as you were okay and happy I could live without you, but I can't." He gritted out the words one after the other. God he hated this genre, he always ended up sounding like a wimp. But he wasn't lying, the only time he'd ever lied to you was when he told you to get lost on what had slowly become one of the worst days in his entire damn life.

He wished he had just told you the truth, he'd been getting pretty good at doing it before but something about seeing a reticle trained on you with a little red dot shook him hard to his core. He could disarm a guy in under a second but a drone with more than one controller was another matter and it had just wrecked him, his progress, his resolve; all of it. For that one second he'd lost you and then in the next he really did lose you. But it was in a far worse way as you were still walking around and breathing; just without him being able to be there breathing in that same air.

God this fucking sucked. Relationships always sucked, people were too complicated and he hated feeling how he felt right now. Utterly hopeless—the one guy in the world who could survive a nuclear bomb head-on couldn't handle a simple fucking relationship and like hell he knew how to salvage it in the wreckage he made. But he had no choice but to try and you weren't walking away. So he had to try, even when you didn't want him to.

"I'm always going to love you Wade," that was never a good start to a longer sentence, "I need time. I think we both do. Our relationship was never gonna be normal but there's a little unconventional and then there's our personal, hellish little train wreck that we got stuck in." You gestured between the both of you and Wade sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Please don't make me keep going with the pathetic grovelling babe please, the author sucks at writing it," He whispered, a half assed attempt to skirt around the heaviness of the conversation. He wasn't good at this, he never had been. Class clown extraordinaire whose way of dealing with conflict was stabbing pencils into eye sockets struggled with relationship talk, go figure.

"Wade can you be fucking serious please, no bullshit." You stressed, stepping forward and he nodded quickly, matching your step with his own so you were only a foot apart.

"I'm sorry, you know I ramble when I get nervous."

"Fucking hell," You groaned and covered your face with your hands, inhaling deeply before dropping your hands and seemingly giving up the fight for now. He was grateful because he wasn't really sure how much fight he had left in him. Well, for you he couldn't fight for eternity, fight with you even. But man it would wear him out.

"Okay just. You have a raw fucking moment with me here and I'll let you take me home, are you actually gonna do anything different or are you gonna sweep everything under the rug and hit me with the same shit in another two years?" Your question is valid and Wade mulled it over as he thought about what you might be looking for in terms of a change. His behaviour was never gonna get any better, neither was his potty mouth—but yours was no better so it wasn't that. He lifted a hand to hold the back of his neck, to think but also to pluck out the bullet that was starting to itch like hell.

"You want couples counselling or whatever I'll do it, I'm gonna be me about it but I'll sit the full hour. The quack might not make it but—" He waved his other hand in the air as he rattled off the one possibility he could think you'd like to hear and you were quick to follow up, a light full of hope flickering behind your tired eyes.

"And you'll talk to me? The next time shit hits the fan in a scary way you'll trust me enough to tell me instead of calling off our two year relationship with gross ass insults—which fucking hurt, by the way." You crossed your arms over your chest and Wade had never nodded so fast or so hard in his life. He jumped toward you like a man running from fire into the arms of a sexy fireman; except he was holding onto your arms and no one's feet were being whisked into the air—but still.

"I will—and i'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it, if that helps," The author didn't even write it so good luck getting him to remember what he even said. All he knew is that it was bad and left a terrible taste in his mouth, a mouldy taste that lingered and clogged up his throat. You didn't lurch away as his hands rested on your forearms but you didn't lean into him like you always used to, it was some uncomfortable thing in the middle that made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"It doesn't…" You roll your lips into a thin line before sighing and moving your feet, slipping your arms out of his hands and each step lead you back to the shit box Wade drove you here in. A small win, one he'd gladly fucking take right now.

End notes: Some movie!Wade seeped through here, I cannot deny a good backing track for a fight sequence, writing it while listening to those songs was an absolute blast—let me know if it was as fun to read as it was to write! As always, see you in the next one!

[latveriansnailmail]

So this one time in the early days of Avengers comics, shortly after they thawed out Captain America, the terrorist group AIM came a-callin' with their Super Adaptoid robot. The Super Adaptoid could copy all the Avengers' powers and technology (a trope that was not yet completely played out, ah, simpler times) and it utterly shamed the Avengers. Then Cap showed up and was all, "I don't need fancy powers and weapons. What I'm going to do is just regular-style kick your ass!" And then he did. He spangled the stars out of that robot and elevated ass-kicking to the status of valid ability in the Marvel Age of Comics. I've always liked that little moment.

Anyhoo, Hasbro is finally making this guy, complete with excellent size, and it should be available for preorder within the next few weeks. I'm excited! Cap can totally kick its ass.

[sseureki]

i do not care about biology and we’re not gonna do any biology in here.

[sumbril]

Developmental cycle of a fanfic writer

Step 1: Lol geez this trope is trash, who writes this shit?

Step 2: Dedicates self to writing Serious Fic only

Step 3: Wow this is getting boring

Step 4: ..No yeah I'm trash and I'm gonna write trash fuck it idc anymore

Step 5: S u f F e R mE

[toomanyfandoms02]

I Hate You -- JJ Maybank

This is a request from @purple-flamingo they give the BEST REQUESTS OMG

Tropes - enemies to lovers ;)

WARNINGS - MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

JJ requests are OPEN. My masterlist is pinned and there's a prompt list if you wanna use it!!

Summary - JJ and Reader have a rocky relationship and that changes when someone gets very hurt.

Word Count - 2.5k

"If we do get out of here, with a bunch of money, I'm getting a new board. And I'm gonna take a surf trip, the worlds callin'. I don't know, name a place." Sweat dripped down my forehead, making my face scrunch at the feeling. How could JJ be talking about the money when we were practically being baked in here.

"Spain." Kie said, humoring him.

"Okay Spain yeah, then after Spain South America or South Africa." He went on naming places.

"You know what I would do with my money?" I said, cutting into their conversation. JJ looked at me with an unamused look.

"What?" He asked plainly.

"I would pay you to never speak again." I smiled, making Kiara roll her eyes.

"Can you guys not get along for one day?" She asked, fanning herself with her hand.

"If you want I can never speak to you again, in fact, I would prefer it!" He said, ignoring his friend's question.

"Wouldn't that be the day? When you shut your damn mouth." I sighed, imagining a world where JJ Maybank shut the hell up. "Now *that* would be the beginning of a Utopia." Just then we heard a bang on the vent. Kie got up and removed it, Popes face showing in the open box. He climbed in, John B right behind him.

Kie began putting the vent back on, being stopped by John B.

"Wait, don't, there's one more." A woman climbed in after him, making Kiara freak out. He stood, explaining to her why she was okay and was going to help. He then turned to the rest of us as Kie plugged up the vent again. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, it's just baking in here." I said, retying my hair up.

"That's the only correct thing that's ever come out of Y/ns mouth." JJ remarked, throwing me a look. "I'm sweating like a whore in church." He continued.

We all sat as Cleo scolded us for not bringing weapons to hijack an entire ship. And she was right, we were *severely* unprepared. I came because Sarah was a close friend of mine and John B agreed to let me help. Though I was not very enthused that Maybank was here. He always knew how to push my buttons.

"There's 5 of us and 15 free members. 3 to 1 is as good as we are going to get." Pope explained.

"That's not the only problem, Ward is alive, and he's on the ship." My face dropped, tuning out the rest of the conversation. I can't imagine how Sarah is feeling right now. She may have been able to hide it from the Pogues, but she had a really hard time after Ward "died". She was distraught, no matter how much he put her through he was still her *dad*. I sat in her room for months as she cried and told me it was her fault. In the end though she was relieved, now it was all ripped away from her.

"Alright, let's open these things up!" I heard a voice yell from outside, bringing me from my thoughts. My eyes widened, looking to Kie. She shook her head at me, putting her finger to her lips. Cleo opened the vent and told us to shut up, hopping out.

"This container is clear boys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, checked every inch. Nothing but plastic in there." There was silence for a moment. "Come on let's go boys, we've got work to do!" She yelled, hearing retreating footsteps. Soon Cleo was letting Pope out to execute the plan. That left JJ, me, Kie, and John B in the container to wait.

"So when they do this, what's the plan." Kie asked, looking to John B. He looked around for a moment, looking like he was contemplating. Before he could say anything, JJ cut in.

"I vote we leave Y/n in here." He said, John B giving him a look.

"You're lucky I don't put you with him." He said to me. "JJ and Kie will go and lock everyone in the room. You and I will look for Sarah." JJ had a satisfied look on his face. We heard the captain telling the crew to go to the set spot.

JJ removed the vent and climbed out, I came behind him. Just as I stepped off the box under the vent JJ put his foot out. My knees hit the ground with a yelp, looking up at him. He had a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

"I hate you." I spat, "Oh, I hate you *so* much right now. " I couldn't tell what his face was doing. He didn't seem so cocky now. He maybe even looked like he felt *bad*, but that could be wishful thinking. I stood up, brushing myself off, grabbing John B's wrist.

"Let's go find Sarah." And then we were off. We started in some living quarters, banging on doors and yelling for Sarah.

"I'll go down you go up." I said as we had no luck there. I made my way downstairs, coming to flat ground finally. "Sarah?!" I yelled, entering a room that was illuminated red. "Sarah!" I yelled again, coming around the side of some pipes. A hook came out 2 inches from my face.

"Woah there." I heard a voice I recognized, goosebumps setting up on my skin. I did *not* like that voice. Rafe came from the other side. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked, the hook dragging by his side?

"I'm looking for Sarah," I said quietly. "This isn't about you. I don't want to do anything to you." My hands were firmly at my side.

"Oh, you don't huh? I don't believe you, considering you associate with the enemy." He replied, getting much closer to me. "It is unfortunate though, I hate to ruin a pretty face." Right as I went to back up he swung the hook. I felt it make contact, but I felt nothing. I held the spot and sprinted up the stairs. I tried all of the doors, the last one being unlocked.

I slid into the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible and locking it. I stood with my back against the door, sliding down it slowly. I looked down at my chest, removing my hand from the wound. My hand shook, covered in thick red blood. My jaw hung open at the sight, a giant gash sat diagonally on my chest. Just missing my right boob.

I could feel how dizzy I was, clearly losing a lot of blood. My tan shirt was soaked in it, making it extremely noticeable. Everything I learned about keeping wounds from bleeding out was useless at the moment. I couldn't just tie above this one. I shook my head trying to keep myself awake.

"Y/n?" I heard a whisper from the hall. Great, now I'm hallucinating. "Y/n?" It said a little louder this time.

"JJ?" I croaked, my ear against the door.

"Yes, now unlock the door." He said, tapping on the other side.

I swear to God if I open this door and no one is there, I'm dying.

I unlocked the door from the ground, scooting away so he could open it.

"Come in." JJ opened the door.

"What, can't do it yourself? Lazy ass." He said, shutting it behind him. He turned around, seeing me on the ground, eyes immediately wide. "Holy shit." His knees came to kneel next to me on the ground.

"Just a little scratch asshole, don't make a big deal." He put his hand over the gash, putting pressure on it. I groaned in pain, tears stinging my eyes.

"What did you do?" He lowered his eyebrows at me.

"Oh yeah, I actually did this to myself. I took this hook thing and said 'oh this looks like something I should put in my chest'." I replied mockingly. He gave me a deadpan look. "It was Rafe." I said, trying not to focus on the pain. He looked angry.

"Rafe? That little shit, I'm gonna rip that twigs head off for hurting you." He shook his head, his jaw clenching. Before I could even process *that* sentence, he continued. "It didn't pierce your heart did it?"

"No, clearly not." I moved his hand over my heart which I became increasingly aware of the slow speed it was beating at.

"That's unfortunate." He smirked, moving back to the wound. I shot him a look, a weak one probably. He let go of the gash, his hand covered in blood. He didn't even bat an eye. He took his shirt off, tying it over my chest. Over my left shoulder and under my right armpit. "That should keep it from bleeding so much." He stood, holding his hand out to me. I just shook my head.

"I can't move JJ. I need to work up some energy. Just get the boat and come around this side and I'll come out on a signal." I waved his hand away.

"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you here!" He screeched, shaking his hand back at me. I shook my head again. "God, you're a pain in the ass." He leaned down, grabbing my waist and picking me up with ease.

"What are you doing?" I groaned.

"I'm going to carry you like a koala, just hold on." He replied, hoisting me up onto him. I wrapped my legs around his hips and put my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me.

"No snide comment huh?" I mumbled into his shoulder.

"I'm nice sometimes." JJ hadn't been like this with me since we were kids. I missed it, even though I didn't want to admit it out loud. Just as he went to open the door he heard loud voices on the other side, instead of pulling open the door, he locked it, setting us down on the ground. "Seems like we are just gonna have to wait it out." He huffed. I rolled off of his lap and sat next to him.

"If you weren't carrying me you could have made it out." I said, staring straight forward. He turned his head to me with an angry look.

"Why are you like that?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"Why do you constantly put everyone before yourself? People care about you." I turned to face him.

"Oh, I'm sure you do." Sarcasm dripped from my words.

"I just tried to carry you out of here!" He spat.

"And you didn't have to!" I yelled back.

"I did it because I miss you!" His arms crossed over his chest, something he did when he was feeling vulnerable as a kid. His nostrils were flared slightly. I stayed silent, my face going soft.

"I miss you, okay? We were best friends and you changed like I was nothing. Like 6 years of friendship meant nothing to you." He looked down at his hands. "It was easier hating you than missing you."

"I don't hate you JJ." His eyes stayed down. "I didn't mean to change, I didn't even mean for it to affect you. I thought you didn't want to be around me anymore so I removed myself."

"And what gave you that impression huh?" I did not want to be having this conversation right now. But I guess hiding from a bunch of people with guns was as good of a time as ever.

"You started having really good luck with girls." I said, feeling absolutely ridiculous. His very confused face did not help. "I use to be the only girl in your life and then all these girls came in and started pining after you. But I wanted that place in your life." I couldn't stand to look at him now. The pain in my chest wasn't just a bloody gash anymore, it was tightening in anxiety.

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" He asked as if it was so obvious. I whipped my head to face him.

"Oh I'm sorry that I was 14 and totally into you but you had goo-goo eyes for every other girl. Do you know how hard it is to tell someone you have feelings for them? Like *real* feelings." My head was spinning.

"Yeah." He just nodded, looking at me with intensity. I looked into his eyes, having a sudden realization.

"No way." I laughed, grabbing his face to face me straight on. His cheeks heated up under my hand. "You do not like me." I giggled quietly. He only shrugged. "Why couldn't you tell me when I wasn't sitting here bleeding out?" I asked, looking down at JJ's shirt which was soaked with my blood. It made my stomach turn.

"Hypocrite." He laughed weakly.

"I think I'm gonna pass out." I said, letting go of his face. He shook his head, putting his hands on each side of my face.

"Come on I just got you back." A whine came from his mouth. "Please stay with me." He whispered, putting his forehead on mine.

"It's really hard to stay awake." I whispered, he shook my shoulder lightly.

"We have to get you out of here." He picked me up and put me back in koala position on him. "Just stay with me gorgeous." I smiled at the name, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck. Just as we got out the door I could hear more shouting.

"JJ! Y/n! Where are you, we need to go!" John B shouted. I kept my head down, holding on as tightly as my weak body could to JJ.

"We're here!" JJ yelled, jogging to John B. "I have to switch you to my back okay? We have to get down a ladder." I barely groaned as he switched me to his back. "Hold on tight." Voices started fading out, I could tell that this was it, I wasn't going to be able to stay awake. I didn't have time to tell JJ before my grip loosened from his shoulders and I fell backward off of him and into the water.

Then it was black.

I gasped for air after what felt like 10 seconds of darkness. I spit water out, coughing like crazy, making my chest burn like a forest fire. I felt arms wrap around me immediately.

"Oh my God, I thought I lost you." I heard JJ cry. I wrapped my arms around his neck, apologizing weakly. "It's not your fault." He let go of me, but before he could get too far I grabbed his jaw, pulling him towards me. I kissed him lightly, his nose bumping into mine from surprise.

"What the fuck?" Kiara asked, I looked around the boat laughing at everyone staring.

"That's what I was about to say." Pope laughed. "What happened? You guys were bitching at each other just this morning."

"Just rekindling an old friendship I guess." JJ shrugged.

"That looks like a little bit more than friendship." Sarah chuckled, winking at me.

"Finally though, seriously. The sexual tension between you two is suffocating. Being in that crate with you guys was unbearable." This earned a laugh from the group. JJ sat next to me, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

"I say we get home, get Y/n patched up, and then smoke a *fat* joint." He announced, getting words of agreement from everyone.

*Finally, I have my boy to myself.*

[ticklepinions]

Okay okay for the tickle tropes- I got two words for you: human. blanket.

Okay okay I got two words for you. Get. Lost.

I got two more words for you. Delete. This. I'm done.

I got two more words for you. Callin. Cops. I'm done I'm not.gonna talk about it anymore.

I got two MORE words for you. Yes. Please.

Let me set the tone for us... You're minding your own business laying tummy down on your comfort furniture (whether that be a couch, bed or in some cases the floor). You then feel a weight sprawling across your body. It's your person (platonic or romantic). Their warmth comforts you and they give you a loving squeeze. This is nice. All seems well, until they're lips almost touch your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I haven't heard you laugh in a while..."

Your eyes immediately go wide. But you have to keep your cool for as long as possible. You throw in a cheeky "Hahahahaha HA-" in hopes it would satisfy their needs. But alas, it doesn't not even a little. Fingers are now kneading your sides, your laughter spills out a few moments after. You try to squirm away but damn they are heavy. Your body seems to betray you, your arms barely protecting your ticklish sides, almost as though you welcomed the attention~ Your cheeks start to burn, I guess hearing them count your ribs aloud is a bit flustering huh? By "accident" your arm hits them, giving them a startle.

"Ah ah ah, can't have that now can we~"

They tease, pulling your arms back in a headlock. Now you're screwed. All it takes is one skilled thumb digging circles right where the ribs and under arms meet and you're a goner. You let out a few snorts and they give you a tiny break.

A smile is plastered on your face and only enlargens as they stroke your hair. But you know this was only for a moment. You couldn't help but saying something extra snarky. A surprised gasp comes from your person and you can feel their playful eyes staring at you.

"If thats the game you want to play, so be it~"

Achievement unlocked: You're BooBoo the Fool

You spoke so boldly for someone who is extremely sensitive. You feel their fingers clawing under you, effectively sending you into another fit of laughter. You arch your back to evade the tummy tickles but a surprise neck raspberry made you fall. Ticklish tears stream down your face, you'd be lying if you said you hated this. But all good things come to an end. A nice massage drives away the ghost tickles but you still giggle here and there when they go over a sensitive spot on your back. After that's done, you think it's your turn to be the human blanket. But we'll save that story for another time.

Who ever you are. Know that I admire you but am angy at you for making me read that.

[scraregenrecs]

SC Reading Challenge Enemies to Lovers Recs

This lil' project of ours is perfect for identifying exactly which tropes we need more of in the rare & gen corner of the Schitt's Creek fandom! Here's what we could find for the current ongoing @screadingchallenge. We'd love to have more!

Enemies to Lovers

Budd is a dud! Vote Sands. (Stevie/Twyla, T, by @samwhambam)

city keeps callin’ out to pay her sins (meeting you might count for enough penance) (Alexis/Twyla, M, by @turningtimeinthetardis)

Good things come in threes (Ted/Miguel, Ted/Miguel/Jake, E, by @seldom-what-i-seem)

i thought i'd ask you just the same (Alexis/Twyla, G, by @sarahlevys, with podfic by @lilythesilly, cottagepodfics, and @petrodobreva)

In the Running (Stevie/Twyla, M, by floosilver8)

something in the way she comes gliding (makes me need to fix up my hair) (Alexis/Twyla, T, by @turningtimeinthetardis)

White Flag (Ted/Miguel, M, by @seldom-what-i-seem)

[starlessea]

Ultimate Guide To Writing Second Person POV

Y/N, You, and Everything in Between

Hey everyone, here’s another post for my writing tips series - this time focusing on how to write in second person.

As a lot of fanfics are written in this POV, you’re probably already familiar with seeing ‘You’ or ‘Y/N’ to describe the reader. But, I wanted to give a few tips on how to construct this type of character - keeping it accessible, whilst not making it too vague/general either.

1) The Reader Insert

One of the most common tropes in fanfiction is to use ‘Y/N’ in place of a character name. It is literally an abbreviation for ‘your name,’ and therefore allows the reader to insert themselves into the fic.

There’s a lot of debate surrounding the use of ‘Y/N.’ Personally, I think it’s fine, and I find it quite unfair when a lot of people show undeserved bias towards it. There is, by no means, any correlation between the standard of writing and whether or not an author uses ‘Y/N.’ It is just personal preference!

However, you must ensure the following things if you are going to use it:

Be consistent in capitalisation - it’s a pet peeve to see it rendered as ‘Y/n,’ ‘Y/N,’ and ‘y/n’ all in a single fic. Pick one and stick to it.

Don’t overuse it - something about the dash really sticks out like a sore thumb. I try to use it for emphasis mainly, like if someone is talking to the character in an emotional moment. But don’t forget that you can use VARIATION, too. Such as:

He called your name.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, and repeated your name.

“I’ve called your name three times now.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, over the sound of the engine.

If you’re writing a multi-chapter fic, keep in mind that although ‘Y/N’ is meant to refer to a general name, it shouldn’t always refer to a general character! What I mean by this is, nobody wants to read a long fanfiction where the main character lacks any distinguishable features, personality traits, or development.

Just because your pronouns and naming system is vague doesn’t mean your character should be! You need to give them distinguishable characteristics - even if it’s as simple as them liking music, having a specific family background, having certain speech patterns.

As much as we might be tempted to write as inclusively as we can, it is unrealistic to have a ‘one-size-fits-all character in EVERY scenario.’ One of the main points of criticism against ‘Y/N’ is that they lack DEPTH.

Another thing to note is that there are chrome extensions like InteracticeFics - where you can enter your name at the start of a fanfic and it’ll automatically replace ‘Y/N’ with it. You may have seen those little boxes on certain Tumblr posts that allow you to do this!

2) The Impersonal ‘You’

This is just a phrase I’ve coined to describe fics that replace ‘Y/N’ exclusively with ‘you.’ I almost visualise it as a sort of hierarchy of depth, or a sliding scale that goes from Y/N > Impersonal You > Personal You > OC.

What I mean by this is, if we think of an OC, they are often a fully fleshed out character. They’ll have a full name, age, appearance, background, likes/dislikes etc. Whereas, with Y/N and the Impersonal You, we can often get away with glossing over these things - or generalising them (but not TOO much, remember).

The Impersonal You is for those who don’t like the visual look of ‘Y/N.’ It is more traditional, and I find that it takes away from the reading experience less. However, there are still pitfalls with this form:

There is a lack of variation - unlike the previous example, here you can’t switch between ‘Y/N’ and ‘you.’ Often, you’ll find that your fics become completely littered with the word, since it describes both the PERSON (the pronoun, replacing he/she/they) and the NAME. So you may find yourself left with something like this:

You finished tying your shoes and look up at the man, already looking at you. “Are you done?” He asked. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated your name to get your attention.

In that passage alone there was 8 instances of ‘you/your.’ In terms of correctness, there is nothing wrong with it. However, it leaves much to be desired stylistically.

You need to be aware of this if you’re writing in this form, and maybe carry out this visual exercise of ‘you’ spotting and counting to check. Instead, try to experiment with adverbs and playing around with syntax order. We could write something like this:

Tying your shoelaces, you looked up at the man to see that he was already looking at you. “Ya done yet?” He asked. “I’ve been callin’ for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated himself to get your attention.

3) The Personal ‘You’

This form is the bridge between the Impersonal You and an OC. It is used to describe someone who is almost an original character, whilst still keeping them relatable. I like this example especially, since it allows for a lot of variation and style.

One of the fics I’m writing, for instance, is about a teacher. Therefore, although I use ‘you’ the majority of the time, I’m also granted the extra variety of ‘Teach.’ A lot of my other characters use that nickname to refer to her. So it’s a good idea to have some distinguishable features that can be used as identifiers - like a certain profession for example.

I’ve also read another fic about a doctor, where everyone calls her ‘Doc,’ and another one where the character is identified by the name of the gang she belongs to. So, it doesn’t always have to be a job - it can be hobbies, interests, an embarrassing secret, a pet name etc.

Here are a few examples:

“Hey, Sunshine.” He greeted, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Get over here, Teach!” She called, and you quickly ran over to hear people muttering your name.

“Well if it isn’t that biker chick I’ve heard so much about.”

“I want to get to know you better, Doc.” He said, and you started by telling him your name. “That’s pretty” He replied, trying it out for himself as he struggled to pronounce it.

4) General Points

Nicknames

As we’ve just gone through, nicknames, pet names, or little identifiers can be a great way to gain some variation - and give an insight into your character’s background. Even if you’re writing in the ‘Y/N’ form, you can use general ones like ‘sweetheart’ etc. to show the relationships between your characters.

Abbreviated Names

With these nicknames, or professions, try out the long forms but also abbreviate them for variation:

Doctor > Doc

Teacher > Teach

And have different characters say them in different ways, or use different ones to address your main character. For example, you might want to emphasise different accents.

Darling > Darlin’

A Nameless Character

It might even be fun to take a meta approach, where your character is consciously aware that they don’t have a name. I read an interesting fic where the reader ironically belonged to a group called ‘nameless’ - and that’s what people called her by.

Or, you could have a character with amnesia - and watch as other people give them an array of nicknames throughout your story.

That’s it for now! I hope you found this part helpful. Send me a message if there’s any other topics you want covered.

[neon-junkie]

Vanity is a Sin - Chpt.1

Summary: The last person you expected to fall for is that pretentious man, Javier Escuella, but maybe you're not so different from him after all?

Pairing: f!Reader x Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2709

Rating: SFW

Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Arguments, Bickering, Denial of feelings, Reader has a lot of self-doubts.

Notes: I’ve wanted to write a Javier multi-chapter fic for aaaages, but wanted to do something different for it. So, enemies to lovers it is, my fave trope hehe, but we don’t see much of Javiers negative side, so let’s explore that :0

Next Chapter

It's another chilly day at Horseshoe Overlook. Despite your occasional shiver and constant goosebumps, you're thankful that you're still not stuck in Colter, but that still doesn't mean you can't wish to be somewhere warmer. It seems no matter how many layers you put on, you can't quite get warm, and you question how other gang members are walking around in their summer attire, especially Arthur.

You shiver again and accidentally manage to prick your finger with the needle you're using to sew somebody's patchy pants. "Fuck sake," you mutter under your breath, looking at your finger to inspect the damage. It's nothing, and you know it's nothing, but you're in a grumpy mood, so everything feels tenfold, especially the sting to your fingertip.

You sigh, looking up at the sky, questioning why whatever being that lives up there continues to rain on your parade. It's not just you that's in a bad mood, the whole camp seems off, but Dutch continues to attempt giving his many uplifting speeches whilst he poses in his tent with a cigar in hand, not lifting a finger to do even some basic camp chores.

He's doing the same now, and your eyes gaze over him as you stop staring at the sky. There he is, the man himself, the big boss, his voice cracking every so often; that always brings a smile to your face. Your eyes follow around the rest of the camp: Hosea is the only one stood listening to him. Molly's on the other side of her tent staring into her pocket mirror because for some reason, she no longer has to pull her weight. Bill is still asleep. Mary-Beth and Tilly are beside you, still sewing away. The O'Driscoll is still tied to the tree. Strauss is... doing whatever he does. And there's Javier, gussying himself up in Arthurs mirror, no surprise there.

You'll never understand how these boys get away with doing the bare minimum, whilst yourself and the other women are the only thing keeping this camp together. Everybody knows that if the women decided to up and leave in the night, the men would end up setting the camp on fire, probably attempting to cook their own dinner... no offence to Pearson. There's a fair few, such as Arthur and Hosea, who are able to survive on their own, but you've seen Arthur attempt to do tedious jobs before and just like you, he pricks his fingers every time he sews. At least Hosea has an excuse, being in his grey years, his bones not able to move as they used to, but he makes up for it in other ways.

But Javier? What does he do? Apart from prance around the camp in his designer crocodile boots, spending an hour shaving his moustache every morning... why does he even shave his moustache like that? You asked him once, and he replied "It rubs off from all the friction." Sure, Javier, because you're obviously a very wanted man.

Unfortunately, Mary-Beth and Tilly take quite a liking to him. They've confessed what you would view as sins before, saying they both have a soft spot for the man, to which you scoffed then laughed, and ended up choking from laughing too hard.

"Why are you laughing? I don't see why you two don't get along? He's real sweet and..." Mary-Beth had begun droning on, and you eventually interrupted her with a "Where do I start?"

Needless to say, neither of them agreed with any of your opinions of Javier, apart from him not pulling his weight as much as he makes out to. But oh, he plays guitar, so that means he doesn't have to do any chores because he blares out his music all hours of the night. You've told him to quit playing so you can sleep many times, seeing as your tent is right by the campfire, to which he always glares at you and plays louder. He once even had the audacity to wake Uncle up and begin shouting Ring-A-Dang-Do.

You took your revenge by waking up early and pouring water in his boots. He knew it was you the second he put them on, sighing and glaring at you, but not being confrontational for once. At least he started putting a curfew on his music after that.

You've been manifesting in your thoughts for a while now, not realizing your name is being called out. "Huh?" you almost yelp as somebody taps your shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Tilly asks. "You've been staring into the distance again, didn't even hear us callin' your name."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," you explain as you turn your attention to them.

"About what?" Mary-Beth questions.

"Nothing that's worth my time."

"Oh, boys?" Tilly questions, making all three of you laugh.

"Unfortunately."

"Well, Mary-Beth and I are all finished here. We're gonna make ourselves look decent and head into town, you coming?"

"Yeah. Let me finish up this, and I'll meet you by the wagon," you reply.

"Alright."

The pair excuse themselves, heading over to their tents to begin looking 'presentable', even though you would happily argue with them about that. They always look incredible, flawless yet effortless, whereas you constantly feel like a drowned rat...

You watch as they wander off, saying hello to Javier, who's still stood in front of Arthurs mirror. He's not even having a shave, he's just been stood there checking himself out for the last ten minutes, or however long it's been. Your brows furrow and you force yourself to tilt your head down, focusing on your final stretch of sewing, eventually finishing up, so you can put them back on the laundry pile and begin getting ready for your day out.

Going into town with your girl friends is always relaxing, something to get you out of camp, when you're not trailing in and out on your own accord. Yes, you know damn-well how to shoot a gun, along with all your other basic survival skills like hunting and fishing. Dutch was reluctant to take you on heists at first, calling you "another Karen, a woman who wants to get her hands dirty when she's needed here."

Dutch wasn't expecting you to put your money where your mouth is, trailing back into camp a few days later with more than enough cash to keep the camp happy. Only that was somewhat of a waste of time now you look back on it, your share being lost somewhere in Blackwater, along with the rest of the camps hard work and progress. Back to square one, yet again...

The sound of a thud startles you, looking over your shoulder to see that the final crate has been loaded into the wagon. The shop helper gives you a wave, and you beckon him over to tip him; he pours out his thanks before going back inside.

"Back to camp?" you question as you turn your focus to Mary-Beth and Tilly, who nod in agreement.

With a flick of the reigns, the three of you begin leaving Valentine, only popping into town to grab a few camp supplies and treats for yourselves. You've fancied a new outfit for a while, and you're excited to try it on later, maybe make yourself look nice so you can... sit by the campfire...

What else is there to enjoy in camp?

The path you're following leads you straight back to Horseshoe Overlook, and you warn the girls of the bump before crossing over the train tracks. A familiar figure can be seen in the distance, and as they approach, you realize it's Arthur on his new mount. He pulls up beside you as you stop the wagon, tipping his hat to the three of you.

"Where are you going?" you question.

"Just headin' into town. I didn't know you girls had just been there," Arthur explains.

"We only went to pick up supplies. What are you going for?" Tilly questions.

"Javier and Charles wanted to meet me at the Saloon, said I'd drop by this afternoon. They must already be there."

"You should get going then, you know what Javier is like," you complain, the words slipping from your mouth.

Arthur laughs at your statement. "You're right," he agrees. "But you two will learn to get along one day, you've gotta if you're gonna be in the same camp together."

"Arthur, there are plenty of camp members that don't get along. You and Micah, for instance?"

"...Yeah, you're right," Arthur hums in frustration. "Forget I said that then... Well, I best be going."

"See you later," the three of you reply.

Arthur gives another little nod and taps his spurs, heading into town, whilst you whip your reigns again and begin your return to camp. 

 By the time you arrive, it's almost sundown, and your evening is spent unloading the wagon and scoffing down your dinner. The night is free to do as you please, so just like you told yourself earlier, you get changed into your new clothes and make yourself look presentable, taking a seat at the campfire with the others and joining in on their story telling.

The evening is going well, relaxing and peaceful for once, even with Uncles banjo playing. All until the sound of heavy hooves come thudding back into camp; you turn to see a handful of the gang members returning from their night in town, only they don't seem too happy. They're huffing and grumbling, nursing what appear to be wounds, and it's easy to piece everything together and realize that they been in a bar fight.

A few of your fellow camp members get up from their seats at the campfire to go and check on them, and as much as you do care, you don't want to overcrowd them. You get up and make your way over to Pearson's wagon, picking out another bottle to drink. You're spoilt for choice, a nice selection of whiskeys and gins at your service, something different from cheap, warm beer.

You pick up a bottle and begin reading the label, checking the alcohol percentage and debating how drunk you want to get tonight. You don't overhear the sound of footsteps approaching, your mind paying no attention to sounds like that as you hear them all the time, but the sound of somebody speaking directly behind you makes you jump.

"That for me?" they ask. You peer over your shoulder to see Javier standing there, his hand rubbing his chin where a bruise is beginning to form.

"Why would this be for you?" you scoff, turning your body to face him, the bottle in your hands.

"Your poor camp member has just been in a fight, yet you won't help nurse them?" Javier questions with a laugh.

"That's your own fault, plus I ain't your mother."

You begin to walk off, but the comment Javier makes forces you to stop in your tracks. "Mary-Beth and Tilly would."

"Go and ask them then," you roll your eyes, turning to face Javier again. Who does he think you are? He begins to softly laugh and the sound makes you gag, so artificial, just like the rest of him.

"But what if I want you to help me? Surely you don't dislike me that much."

"I do, so I'd suggest you ask them."

You try and walk away yet again, and Javier mutters something under his breath. "You'll learn to like me eventually." Another scoffing sound escapes your lips as you frown at him, leaning against Pearson's table and crossing your arms, your bottle in hand.

"You know, I've never seen you wear purple before. It suits you," you smirk.

"Oh, very funny," Javier says as he raises his eyebrows. He approaches you, his strides small and slow, stopping right before you. His hand moves away from his bruise, his skin turning a deeper purple as every second passes, but your eyes are drawn to his; They're dark and blown, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, staring into yours. He's too close for your liking, you can smell the tobacco in his system with every exhale, his breathing deep, still clearly worn out from the fight.

"What's your issue with me?" Javier asks. "I mean, I've never done anything to upset you, not that I know of, but you've always had something against me."

"I've told you before," you begin as you uncross your arms, placing your bottle down on the table and resting your hands on your hips. "You don't do shit around this camp. You'll drag a sloppy score in here and there, but your vanity distracts you from doing some proper work, chores and what-not."

"Vanity?" Javier repeats the word with a laugh. "There's no harm in looking good, at least you're putting some effort in tonight. Did you buy this today?" Javier asks as he goes to tough the fabric of your blouse, but you swat his hand away.

"You're as bad as Micah," you spit at him.

"Mhmm, we both know that's a lie. For starters, I do a lot more than him around here, and you know it-"

"Please, will the pair of you quit it already?" Dutch calls out as he approaches. He must have noticed the way you two were stood so close, squaring up to each other, both too egotistical to let the other talk them down.

Dutch puts his arm out between your bodies, lightly pushing both of you away, forcing you to take a few small steps back. "I've said before that you don't have to get along, but these pathetic arguments happen far too often. Either you both drop this, or I'll have to find a way to make you get along," Dutch threatens, and you know he'll stay true to his word.

You don't bother saying anything, glaring at Javier once more before turning heel and walking away. "You forgot your drink," Javier calls out to you.

"Seems I've lost my appetite," you call back, and you overhear Dutch sigh at your comment.

Part of you feels sick, and you're unsure if that's from the adrenaline pumping in your veins, or the nerves Javier has shaken into you. Why was he stood so close? Your noses were almost touching, and you wouldn't be surprised if he kissed you just to wind you up even more. You try to keep your mind clear as you enter your enclosed tent, taking off your makeup and getting ready for bed, but you can still feel Javier's hot breaths on your skin.

You debate having a towel bath, wanting to wipe away the sin of being so close to that irritating man, but you're already in bed with no motivation to move. As you roll over, the sound of his guitar grows outside, forcing you to place your head under the pillow in an attempt to drown the music out. He's a good musician, and you're happy to admit that, but why does everything about him have to be so... him?

The perfectly coordinated outfits, the way his steel toe boots are always shining, the effortless yet pristine ponytail he always wears, the confidence and vanity in everything he says. He's like one of those flawless characters you've found in awfully written books, no weaknesses or downfalls, no ugly days, everybody loves him, yet his artificialness makes you sick.

And he knows it makes you sick, and he loves to play on it. Tonight isn't the first time he's got up close and personal with you. You know he studies your every move, watching your body language, checking to see if blush grows on your cheeks, searching for your insecurities. The comment he made earlier is still on repeat in your mind... "at least you're putting some effort in tonight." What a smug bastard. He knows how low your self-esteem is, yet you weren't expecting him to pull a Micah and make a comment like that.

But this is what he wants. He wants it to settle in your brain, to weigh you down and make you feel even worse. You just have to not let that happen, but that's easier said than done...