#finally got around to getting this sorted

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!!

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

[aplaceinme]

Buck reaches the top of the stairs and looks around. His eyes zero in on Eddie, sitting on the couch, doing something with his phone.

Looking down at his hand, Buck nods in decision and confidently walks over to Eddie. 

“Here,” Buck says, thrusting his hand out to Eddie.

“Jesus!” Eddie yelps, startled. “Buck, what the hell, man?”

“Just take this,” Buck says firmly, waving the thing he is holding. 

Eddie looks at him unimpressed, the familiar expression that says ‘why do I put up with you?’, but then he grabs the ticket. 

“This is a Lakers ticket,” Eddie says breathlessly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Buck says dejectedly, looking forlornly at the ticket. 

“Why are you giving me this? Not that I’m complaining!” 

Buck sits heavily on the armchair and tries to make himself look smaller. “Tommy gave it to me… it was a gift for our six-month anniversary.”

“Oh,” Eddie mouths the word and looks down at the ticket in apprehension. “Ok, that doesn’t really explain why you are giving it to me, though.” 

“I’m not giving it to you, or well, not really. I just need you to give it back to Tommy.” 

“Give it back?” Eddie asks confused. “Wait, he only got one ticket?” 

“No, of course not. He got two but… I- I’m keeping the other as a sort of, as a souvenir or memory or whatever,” Buck shrugs his shoulders, feeling a blush creeping up his neck. 

“Seriously? You’re not going?”

“I don’t want to go alone! The sear next to me will be empty and I just, I just know that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.” 

“If only you didn’t have a friend who likes basketball…” Eddie says drily. 

Sighing, Buck replies, “I know but it would be weird going with you instead of him… Just give it to him and tell him he can go!” 

“Are you sure?”

“I- Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” Buck says, trying to sound confident but he is sure he doesn’t quite manage it. 

“Alright, buddy. I will do it,” Eddie replies, giving him that small smile filled with sympathy that he has been giving him since the break-up.

—

It’s the day of the game and Buck is lying down on his bed trying to forget about it. However, his eyes keep going to the little box under his dresser. After one too many times glancing at the box and then at the ceiling, Buck huffs and moves over to grab it. 

Buck sits down heavily on the bed and carefully opens the box. As soon as he sees the content, his stomach twists and he starts to get teary-eyed. He hadn’t planned to have a box, it sort of just happened. It started when Buck returned home from their coffee date and found the receipt for their coffee in his wallet. It had been an impulsive decision to save it instead of throwing it away. Soon after that, Buck started to keep other things: like the ticket for the first movie they saw together, the coaster of one of the bars they went to, a copy of the recipe of the first dish they cooked together, etc. 

After the break-up, Buck added to the box the pictures he had of both of them and the ticket for the Lakers game. He grabs it and turns it around, this way and that way. Eddie told him that Tommy didn’t want to accept the other ticket back and that he had tried to convince Eddie to go with Buck. In the end, he kept it but implied that he wasn’t going to go. 

Looking down at his watch, Buck realizes that he still has time to make it. He contemplates it for a couple of minutes and then he thinks fuck it and decides to go. 

—

“Hi, excuse me, sorry, sorry, excuse me,” Buck says as he shimmies through the seats. 

Once he finally reaches his empty seat, he looks up and freezes. 

“Tommy,” Buck breathes out, feeling as if his heart is about to explode from his chest. 

“Ev- Buck,” Tommy says, just as surprised. 

They don’t move, they just stay there standing, looking at each other like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Fucking sit down, what the hell are you guys doing?” A man sitting in the row above yells at them. 

They both mumble their apologies and sit down, with their backs ramrod straight, and looking ahead. 

 “I’m sorry, I will go,” Tommy says after a while of awkward silence. “Eddie told me you weren’t going to come so I just decided at the last minute to come and.. Anyway, I will go.”

“No,” Buck says loudly, grabbing onto Tommy’s arm. 

Buck looks at his hand and exhales shakily. He swears he felt a shiver running through his spine as soon as he touched Tommy. His hands, his body, all of him has missed him terribly. 

“Sorry,” Buck lets go of the arm, even though it pains him to do so. “Stay, you don’t have to go. The game is about to start, just, please stay.” 

Tommy searches Buck’s face and, after a few agonizing seconds, he nods and sits more comfortably. 

Sighing in relief, Buck turns back to the court and tries to reassure himself that this is ok. Everything will be fine. Just two exes, sitting next to each other, watching a basketball game…

—

If you were to ask Buck how the game is going, what the score is, who is winning, and which player was the best at the moment, he would be unable to answer. He has no idea what has been happening, all he knows is that even though they are not touching, he can feel Tommy’s arm and leg right next to his. 

Even though he is surrounded by the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and many other things, Buck swears that the only thing he can smell is Tommy’s oud cologne. All he wants to do is  turn to Tommy and nuzzle his face against his neck to be able to breathe in that smell. He has missed that smell terribly, his pillows and sheets had long ago lost any traces of it. 

Suddenly, he hears Tommy mutter, “Oh, shit.” 

Buck looks over quickly, fearing that Tommy is feeling ill or that something bad happened, but he sees him looking up at something. Following his gaze, he finds that they are on the stadium screens. The Kiss Cam has chosen them. 

Glancing back at Tommy, they make eye contact but make no other move. People around him cheer and yell at them to just do it. 

This might be the last time I get to feel his lips again… the last time I kiss him , Buck thinks. 

It is that thought that makes him shrug his shoulders sheepishly at Tommy, as if saying, “I’m down if you are.” 

Tommy glances at Buck’s lips and nods. They both lean in at the same time and when their lips touch, Buck feels as if he’s coming home. Kissing Tommy again is like getting a breath of fresh air. 

It isn’t until he hears someone yelling to get a room that Buck pulls away reluctantly. Tommy has his eyes closed and his mouth is still open a little bit. Buck wants to lean in and kiss him again. 

Once Tommy opens his eyes, Buck sees that there are tears in them. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I- I need to go,” Tommy says in a choked-up voice. 

Buck stays still, watching as, once again, Tommy walks away from him, from his life, from them. 

“Not again,” Buck says under his breath. 

Determined, he stands up and starts to follow him. 

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me.”

“You go get him, honey,” A woman sitting in the row above winks at him. 

Blushing, Buck nods and replies, “Thanks! I will!”

Once he is out of the stands, Buck starts to run, wanting to catch up to Tommy. As he reaches the part of the facilities where the concession stands and bathrooms are, he runs straight into someone. 

“Fuck!” Tommy says.

“Ouch!” “Buck replies. 

They look at each other and laugh awkwardly.

“Why were you returning? Did you forget something?” Buck asks, suddenly nervous and forgetting everything he wants to say to him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I forgot something,” Tommy tells him before pulling Buck close and kissing him even more passionately than before. 

After breaking the kiss, Tommy says breathlessly, “I’m sorry for running away… both times. I just got so scared about my feelings for you, and your feelings for me, and how you can so easily break me into pieces.” 

“I’m sorry too!” Buck tells him while cupping Tommy’s cheek. “I should have fought for you, I should have gone after you.” 

“No, no,” Tommy shakes his head vehemently. “I walked away so I was the one who had to return to you.”

Buck kisses him again, a short, sweet and tender kiss.

“I’m trying to be better, Evan. I’m going to work on not letting fear control me because I- I, well… I love you.”

Smiling brightly and feeling as if everything is right in the world, Buck replies, “I love you too… just as you are. And I will be there for you, and I will help you to not run away again when you get scared, ok?”

“Ok… god, I love you so much,” Tommy says, chuckling. 

“I love you too,” Buck replies again while kissing Tommy’s nose, cheeks, and mouth. 

[unoislazy]

Take A Break

Viktor x Reader (Part One)

Viktor doesn’t want you to be like him. You’re taking a break and you’re gonna like it.

A/N: Gonna let y'all in on a secret, this is a revamp of a very old fanfic i wrote years ago when arcane first came out. It's on an old account of mine on a different platform, not gonna mention which one, but it's still up if you can find it.

You were committed.

Committed to helping out Viktor in any way that you could. You were just an apprentice in the academy, technically you weren’t even supposed to be near Viktor when it came specifically to rankings, you should’ve been focusing on lesser issues.

But with Viktor it was different. You always admired his want to help people, the way he put his all into every project that he believed would benefit the people of the Undercity.

He saw in you the same passion to help, so he kept you around. He very quickly learned he also just enjoyed your company which made you the perfect lab partner when his original one, Jayce Talis, was no longer able to help as often. The two of you very quickly became good friends, great friends even. It is to be expected for two people who get along that also spend almost every waking hour of every single day together.

The ideas he held for the potential of HexTech and how it could help the people always warmed your heart. It gave you a new spark of inspiration every time he would rattle on about some new idea he had.

Because of these ideas, you wanted to put your all into helping him achieve his goal, even if that meant spending countless hours in the lab overnight. It became a habit of yours, unbeknownst to Viktor, as far as he was aware you just got to the lab really early in the morning and just left very late at night. It wasn’t until one day, he walked into the lab extremely early in the morning, having come up with an idea and wanting to test it out, and found you fast asleep on leaning against your workbench.

The soft clink of Viktor’s cane echoed throughout the room as he made his way over to you. He looked around at all the things you had written down, all the work you had accomplished, as well as the mess that your failed attempts had made. Once he finally got close enough to you, he had noticed the slightest bit of drool that had begun to collect atop your hand that you had resting under your face to give yourself some sort of cushion. He let out a soft chuckle at this before clearing his throat rather loudly.

This attempt to wake you didn’t work, so he tried again. Once that was also met with a fail, he tried once more, this time making sure to tap you on the shoulder with a bit of force. This finally managed to wake you as you shot up from your seat, almost falling back onto the floor from the sheer force you rose with.

“You know, sleeping in the lab… it isn’t exactly advised.” Viktor said in a teasing manner as you looked around frantically before your eyes landed on him. You sighed with relief, calming down as you finally figured out who it was that woke you.

“Viktor, it’s just you.” You said, a hand over your heart as you tried to almost manually lower your heart rate back to normal. The scare he gave you was almost enough to make you think you had entered cardiac arrest. He chuckled at your reaction before taking a seat on the stool next to you, his cane still in hand as he spoke,

“You’ve been busy I see. Find anything new?” He asked, interested in your developments. You sighed, this time not out of relief but instead out of disappointment.

“Nothing yet. I can’t seem to figure out exactly how these runes work. They just don’t make any sense. It's like learning a new language without a dictionary to go off of.” You said as you rested your head on your hand once again, now noticing the drool that you quickly wiped off.

“I see well, there's no sense in returning to it right away.” He said as his eyes drifted from you, down to the pile of papers that had been spread across your desk. Some of them were his, a lot of them were yours. He could easily tell they were yours by the random doodles you would have littered across the margins of your pages. Before meeting you he would’ve thought such a thing would be a waste of space, since then however, he finds it an endearing quirk of yours that he looks forward to seeing when he goes back to look over both of your notes.

“What? But I know there is a way to fix this. I just need to,” You began to explain, eager to finish the work you started only to be interrupted by a sigh from the thin man.

“Can’t believe I am the one saying this, you are overworking yourself.” He said, his face fairly blank of emotion as he spoke to you.

“I can’t believe you just said that either.” You said, your eyes widening slightly as you met his gaze. If anyone had room to talk about overworking oneself, it certainly was not Mr. HexTech number 2.

“Something new every day I suppose. As I said, sleeping in the lab is not advised.” He said with a shrug, one of his hands leaning on his crutch as he leaned a bit more forward, knowing you would still object.

“You’ve done it.” You, as he knew you would, objected.

“Well eh, I’m not exactly the best rule follower…” He retorted with a bit of strain towards the end of his sentence.

“So why should I be?” You asked.

“Because you need a break.” He responded in a lighthearted yet still somehow stern way. He was serious but he wasn’t mad, he knew better than anyone that it was hard for such a committed worker to finally take time to prioritize themself. Half the time he only took breaks because Heimerdinger told him to.

“But you-”

“Ah, no. This is not about me.” He interrupted again, holding a hand up to signal you to stop talking.

“But I-”

“A break.” He said, leaning forward.

“But-”

“A. Break.” He repeated, almost as if he was telling you to drop it, which in a very obvious way he was. You sighed once again, realizing you weren't going to win such an argument.

“Fine, yes I’ll take a break.” You finally agreed. You rolled your eyes before turning back to your desk, and resting back in the position you had once been in. You head of your hand and your eyes facing the ungodly amount of work you still had yet to finish.

“Good, now come with me.” He spoke quickly, getting up from his chair as if he had somewhere to be.

“What, why? Where are we going?” You questioned, propping yourself up as you watched the pale man walk around your desk towards the door before stopping to turn back and look at you.

“We are going to take a break.”

Confused by his words you felt you had no other choice but to get up and follow the strange yet intelligent man. Everything he did confused you, you could never confidently predict what he was going to do next, every time you thought you could he would just add another option to the board. Knowing better than to question him at this point, you stood up from your desk, taking a moment to stretch your limbs which had been held in the same position for hours.

In the process you hadn’t realized Viktor’s eyes had remained on you, taking in as much of your body as he could see whether he realized it or not. You then caught him staring and looked down at yourself, confused as to what he was looking at. Did you have some paper stuck to you?

“What?” You asked him, looking down at yourself before looking back up at him trying to figure out what exactly he could’ve been looking at. He seemed surprised, not just by your question, but also by the fact that he had been staring in the first place. It was a habit he had, but when directed at you it felt different for him… he didn’t know why but he wasn’t going to bother exploring that area of the unknown just yet.

“Nothing, follow me.” He responded quickly before turning back towards the door and hurriedly walking out.

You followed him out of the lab, closing the door behind you, and making your way into the very intricately decorated hallways of the academy. It was a place you prided yourself on being able to work at, they didn’t just accept anyone through their doors so the fact you made it this far, even just to be an apprentice, was something you would never let yourself forget.

Even so, sometimes just being an apprentice did sometimes diminish your excitement about working in such an extravagantly intelligent place. You wanted to do things, you wanted to make a difference, you wanted to help people, and oftentimes being stuck in the role of an apprentice didn’t guarantee much of anything.

That’s why you were so eager to help out Viktor. He saw potential in you and worked upon it, he gave you things to do and actually valued your opinion when working on projects. He made you feel seen more than anyone else in the academy had at this point.

You hadn’t noticed him looking over his shoulder at you once again, watching as your eyes traced the design of each pillar that littered the hallway before smiling a little to himself.

“This way.” He spoke up, grabbing your attention quickly as he turned down a hallway and towards the main doors leading out of the academy.

“Where are we going?” You asked, now walking alongside him.

“You will see.”

“Do you ever give any straight answers?”

“You’ve been around me this long and still don’t know the answer to that?” He teased back with a smile on his face, it caused you to laugh slightly as you rolled your eyes.

“So that’s a strong no.” You laughed to which he shrugged.

Before long he brought you to a place that was rather secluded, in fact, you hadn’t even known it existed. It was, for lack of a better term, a hole in the wall outlooking the water that sat between Piltover and Zaun. It was quite nice as the sun glittered across the water giving it a twinkle that you could really only see from certain angles. It was only then did you realize how long you had fallen asleep in the lab, it was already midday.

Viktor took a seat on the ledge, looking to you to join him, which you did. You were a bit hesitant at first as the drop was quite a far one, but eventually you made your way and sat down properly. There was still enough distance between you and Viktor that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you both looked out at the view.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, looking over to him as he leaned against the wall next to him. There was a certain look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place, almost melancholic, maybe even nostalgic as he looked out at the water.

He shrugged a bit before dragging his eyes away from the water to look at you.

“I’ve always known about it. I come to relax or think, which Is part of what I think you need right now.” He said with a smile as he leaned back on the ledge a bit with his arms behind him.

You nodded before looking back out at the view before you.

You both stayed quiet for a little, just enjoying each other's company as you listened to the sounds around you. You thought it would’ve been awkward to just sit in silence with him but you were actually surprisingly really comfortable with it. You couldn’t help but wonder why he even bothered bringing you out here, if anything wouldn’t it be more important to just get you back to work as quickly as possible. So you asked,

“Hey Viktor?” You began, to which the man responded with a gentle hum, letting you know he was listening even if he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“So you can have a break.”

You sighed and shook your head knowing he was so straightforward that you had to spell things out for him sometimes.

“Yeah, I know that part but… why? Why let me have a break when this work is so important to you?”

His eyes left the scene before him before looking back towards you. A new emotion behind them that you couldn’t quite place, but it looked much more lively than the melancholic look he had before.

“Jeopardizing people you care about is not worth the sake of a project.”

His words seemed to almost float in the air for a moment before sinking in as you looked at him. He was serious about what he had said but it seemed like he hadn’t intended to say something so heavy hitting, but Viktor wasn’t exactly a sugar coater. He didn’t like to dance around the edge of things, if he had something on his mind he would say it.

But he saw your reaction and realized that maybe this once he should dial back his full passion towards everything.

“Eh, and besides, what good would it do me if my assistant was falling asleep on my all the time.” He joked a bit as he nudged you with his elbow. You smiled at him a bit, appreciating his words before looking down once again.

“This is nice.” You said quietly with a smile, now looking down at your hands which we’re responding on your lap.

“Perhaps this means you will take a break more often?” He asks, leaning a bit forward as he looks towards you.

“Perhaps it does.” You said, your smile remaining.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

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There was a second. Less than a second before Ekko's time flowed again. In that, second before Jayce and Viktor vanished into nothingness, before time turned in your favor. In that second you felt your mind separate from your body, your consciousness being bent into a spiraling corridor of Hextech, your soul being erased and repainted with the runes you studied. And then…white…a flash of nothingness and the ticking sound of a clock and in a blink of an eye you jolted awake.

The impact with something cold and hard took the breath out of you, feeling it hit right below the diaphragm. You kept sliding down something until you woke up enough to figure out where you were and how fast gravity was working against you.

You quickly figure out where you were: the Hexgate rooftop. The place you had been standing a second ago, looking at a white construct plucking all your memories away, now a dark slide with a not-so-fun ending. You cured under your breath, your hands finding anything they could grab and stop the swift descent. Finally, your fingers clawed at a sill and you haphazardly stopped your death by floor. 

With two big puffs of air, you managed to pull yourself up the ledge and immediately fall on your back, when you figured the ground was straight. You could feel your lungs explode with cold air, the tears you had before drying out in the night air. 

You frowned. Night air? Something snapped in your brain and straightened your back, sitting on your small perch. It was broad daylight … The flood of memories and images hit you all at once, and you felt all of them all at once. You felt your brain split open and be sewn back together. Jayce, Viktor, your two friends, broken and made whole again. The hextech, the hex core, and its idea of a hive mind world. Mel, a force of nature finally found what she was truly made of, marble and gold. Caitlyn and Vi, the backbone of the enforcers. You, a high society figure tangled in the science you patronized, turned fighter for Piltover's survival. 

You heard the chaos of the last hour in your mind, the screams, the clinking of swords and blasts of guns. The smell of blood, fear, and magic. 

You felt it all until…you didn’t. And it all became quiet. The silent whisper of the wind on your face and the normal sound of a city under your feet.

You got up on unsteady feet, realizing you were still wearing your makeshift enforcer armor. You looked around, seeing the skyline of the city, bathed in an orange moonlight, until you reached the Academy’s dome. A silent gasp came out of your mouth.

It was still intact. 

The gasp turned to frown and the hope to realization. You took a step back as you watched the red moon reflected on the glass pane.

It was still intact, but not for long.

You remembered Jayce talking about how he got to go to a different time, an alternate universe. A divergence in reality that sent him somewhere. His description was dire, filled with what he called ‘Hex Angels’ coming after him. But this seemed like your world, your time. Before Jinx attacked the council.

Before Jayce placed Viktor in the hextech bath, turning him into the Herald.

You had one chance. One impossible chance. 

The urgency of needing to get to council chambers hit you like a brick and you started to try and make your way inside the hexgate. Find an enforcer, tell them to get you into the chamber, and warn the councilors of the attack. If it would be easy, you were a well-known face in Piltover. Your father was a respected figure, an old councilman, only giving up his seat when your mother died 20 years ago. Getting into that chamber would be easier than getting down from this rooftop.

Which you managed with surprising ease, thanking Caitlyn for showing you the many ventilation entryways where the enemies could try and get inside.

And your feet hit the metallic floor of a walkway you ran as fast you could to any place you deemed safe to jump down. It seemed like a never-ending spiral that was clawing into your anxiety. But when you were about to scream you found yourself face to face with a door with a sign “Maintenance. Do not open it if Hexgate is hot.”

You gave it a few tugs. Nothing. You groaned and started pounding on it, until you saw an enforcer come to the door, frowning. 

He opened the door, a hand on the handle, another on his electric baton.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” 

You frowned at the first question but answered it. His eyes looked nonplussed and you frowned deeper. You hated to pull this card but you didn’t know how much time you had.

“Do you not know who I am?” Your voice echoes through the tube. “I don’t care who you are! You are trespassing on government grounds” He grabbed your forearm and roughly pushed you into a small corridor. “How did you even get in there?” He mumbled to himself, losing the door. “Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the council chamber.” You blurted out, knowing by his demeanor it was futile.  “Pal, you're going straight to HQ to answer how you got into a place with only three guarded doors, and why.”

He once more grabbed your elbow and dragged you away from the metal door towards a minuscule industrial elevator. With his free hand, he grabbed the key ring around his belt and unlocked it. It was beautifully crafted, as was everything in Piltover, but the cramped space and your shoulder pauldron made it difficult for both of you to get inside at the same time. 

You looked at the Enforcer, while he was trying to figure out if going down the thousands and thousands of stairs was worth it. The stairs were barely used, placed there by an overzealous engineer and much like the door to the elevator, it was locked. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered to the guy and when he turned you did your best Vi impression and head-butted him, leaving him hurting and confused. You quickly snatched the keys from him and rushed to the stairs.

“Stop!” You heard him mumble, trying to regain his balance.

Yanking the door open you rushed down the stairs, jumping whole sets of stairs at a time, using the walls as a concrete cushion to break your descent. You kept jumping and running and colliding with the walls, begging that the ground floor appeared soon. 

The last landing was below you and you saw four enforcers open the door below you and rushed in, looking up and spotting you. You couldn’t take them all. 

Before you could do anything you felt something shift. Similar to when someone stretched after a good nap, but it was in the air around you. Not the air you realized, the reality around you awakened. It whispered something unintelligible, but you heard it even above the guards shouting at you. A faint piano note followed and right in front of you a rune appeared. Like a pattern on a broken mirror. 

A magical rune, you remembered talking with Jayce and Viktor about it.

The officers were approaching and without thinking you inscribed the rune with your foot on the dusty floor of the stairwell. Once made you waited. The guards stopped for a moment looking confused. Nothing happened.

A conversation between you and your father flashed in your head. You had finished practicing a piece on the piano, your father, ever the willing audience sat with a frown on his face. 

“What's wrong?” you asked, turning to him and he shook his head. “Is it supposed to be a happy song?” He asked and you shook your head. “No, it’s a requiem, but I didn’t feel like playing a sad song, so I changed the note.”

Your father smiled sadly and got up from his armchair.

“My dear child, if a song is intended to be sad, then it must be played as such. That was its intended purpose.” He placed a hand on your shoulder “You are only a tool to bring that song to life, your aim should be to bring it to life.”

Intention. You’re a tool with a purpose. You nodded and took a deep breath. Looking up at the enforcers you thought about what the objective of your plan was. Leave. Move from here. And then, you stomped your boot to the ground and a wave of air burst from it. Like a gust of powerful wind, knocking the enforcers down.

You looked at the groaning bodies on the floor, your chest heaving in deep breaths. For a second you were frozen to the ground, until the clanking of metal armor and footfalls snapped you out of it. 

“I’m so sorry…” You whispered to the guards on the ground and ran outside the hexgate, shoving whoever stepped in your path out of the way. 

You relied on your muscle memory of Pilltover to get you to the University where the Council of Clans was to be taking place. You managed to lose most of the enforcers by swerving into the building’s back alleys, stopping only by a garbage chute to dispose of the outer layer of armor you still had on, leaving you with a simple pair of blue pants and a tank top.

Arriving at the University steps you slowed down and walked confidently towards the enforcers at the door, hoping they had not been warned about your encounter at the Hexgated and that they knew about who you were. The last part was quickly dismantled as they stepped towards you with a hand up. 

“I am here for the Council meeting.” You announced, your tone showing the confidence you didn’t have, but that years of practice made second nature. “Good evening. We are not expecting any visitors.” The enforcer replied, politely. “Please turn back and come back tomorrow with an appointment.”  “Councilwoman Mel Medarda is expecting me.” Your tone dripped with the impatience only a Topsider was known to have. “I am truly sorry, but we are not expecting visitors. If any member of the Council was expecting you we would have been warned.” The other enforcer repeated and started towards you. “This is astounding. How dare you stop me from an engagement with a Councillor? Preposterous. I will tell your supervisor about this…” “As is your right. Now please turn around.”

You huffed and puffed, putting on a performance of a lifetime until you finished the rune you had learned minutes ago. Once that was done you turned to the enforcers and once again apologized, watching as they got knocked on their asses when you stomped the rune with your boot. It was enough for you to walk to them and grab another key ring for your collection. 

Unlocking the side door of the main entrance you stepped inside while hearing shouting approaching from the outside. Time is running out. You looked at the marble steps and both you and your knees groaned. You took the steps two by two until you reached the second landing and then you found the main elevator. You had no time to wait for the thing to arrive nor to go to the last floor by the stairs. 

Reality did the thing again and once more a rune whispered and showed itself as if it was a patch on the elbows of a jacket. There was no dust on the floor or walls, nothing for you to write the rune on. 

All of a sudden you felt a burning sensation in your hand and looked at it. In your palm, a bright blue rune appeared, glowing in the darkened university hall. The bright light spread, filling your palm, your knuckles and your fingers. When you moved your hand to turn it and watch the light consume the rest of your extremities, you noticed your fingers were painting light into the air. You moved your fingers in a wave a small path of light painted the air in front of you, like a stroke of a brush on canvas.

Once again, the clanking of armor and shouting kicked you out of your stupor and you used your now weirdly illuminated hand. For a second today, the rune did nothing and once again you thought of the purpose you had. Reach the last floor.

Another voice flashed in your head. Vi’s shouts when you were on the hexgate, back…back there.

“Well…don’t just stand there…push forward…get them out!”

Push forward. Quickly you drew the rune in the air and just as Vi sometimes spoke with her fists, you did the same, punching the rune with enough force to push it towards its destination.  

The elevator pinged and opened its double doors and you rushed inside. The elevator took off as fast as it could with its old gears but it was still quicker than the steps and by the quiet you were hearing, the enforcers were still finding a way up.

As soon as the elevator stopped you were darting towards the gigantic doors. Midway, you caught a glimpse of something shining through the sky through a window—the rocket. Jinx was going through the motions of pulling the trigger if she hadn’t pulled it already. If the rocket was already in the air, you had seconds to put a stop to the Herald’s ascension.

You swerved right, knowing the main doors would be guarded, but the side doors were usually…hopefully… left unattended. Never did a sigh of a door make you so happy. You grabbed the door handle. Locked.

Instinctively you made the gust of air rune in the air and punched it, the door rattled. You groaned loudly, your desperation evident. You painted the rune again but made it bigger. The door rattled again. If not size, then quantity. You made four runes on the ground, in a single line and stomped on it. 

The door flew open and you ran inside, watching as everyone in the room fell silent. You hadn’t been inside the chamber when the rocket hit, but you knew that Mel’s shield had naturally appeared to protect her. Jayce, being so close to her, had been protected, but Viktor was a breath away from it.

Mel’s eyes snapped to you as you took several gulps of air. Looking at a smaller window in the chamber you saw a light fly towards the dome. You locked eyes with Viktor, sitting on a chair, his expression confused. 

As you dashed towards him, Mel and Jayce, you were half tempted to use magic again, but when he reached for his cane you stopped that thought. You weren’t about to throw poor Viktor around, this was gonna hurt as it was.

A councilman got up in an attempt to stop you, but Vi and Caitlyn's training had paid off and you quickly skidded away. You were centimeters from Viktor when a blue glow bathed the chamber. Everyone’s face turned towards the domed ceiling. As everyone’s eyes were transfixed on the sky you grabbed Viktor's hand and pulled him to you as you rushed towards Mel. You heard the glass shattering as the rocket hit the target, the force of the impact enough to send you crashing to the ground, never letting go of the bony hand in yours. And then…blackness…

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[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand. 

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring. 

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re- 

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast. 

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again. 

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck. 

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to. 

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand. 

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts. 

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt. 

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

-

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled. 

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust. 

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you. 

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[vervainandspritz]

WHEN I TOUCH HER

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy sees Y/N some time after breaking it off, she doesn't seem to notice him.. or does she?

A/N: Interact with the stories you read! It's important. Who wants something more tonight?:)

~~

People surely noticed, looking over curiously as several blinders entered the pub. Not making a ruckus of sort, slipping between other people in the fairly big crowd.

Some joined others by the table, greeting with wide grins those they know so well. Others, like John and Arthur came up to the bar, so much bigger than one in the Garrison. Three barmaids worked behind the counter, skillfully pouring all kinds of alcohol for the men in need. Known well among the people of Birmingham, they didn't have to call over to the working women to get what they came for. One of the barmaids handed over a full bottle of the finest Irish whiskey, receiving a good tip as the younger man left it on the counter, pushing it towards her with a wink.

Y/N, one of the barmaids didn't notice any of the Shelby brothers just yet, focused on the orders and techniques she taught herself so well. Tips were pouring like never before that night, as the rich guests consistently ordered more and more. A woman with such abilities was surely never seen before in any local club around here.

Night seemed to be coming to a head as the crowd slightly dispersed, giving her a much more clear view on the whole, rather massive, room. To say she saw him right away would be a lie, but Y/N could feel an intense gaze on her hands and face as she worked, cleaning up the glasses and wiping the counter down before finally looking up.

The man she avoided for over a month, more or less successfully stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched her from across the room. Despite the fact that this place was bursting at the seams, his gaze didn't falter as he watched her expression change, one much more bitter than the whiskey he held in his right hand.

”Fuck” Y/N sighed under her nose, internally rolling her eyes as she saw in her peripheral vision him slowly approaching.

Not giving him a chance to speak to her, Y/N turned around, wiping all the shelves behind her, keeping herself busy with anything, just so he wouldn't speak up. Involuntarily, the corner of her mouth raised slightly hearing his sigh of annoyance behind her back.

”Y/N” Thomas said, sitting on one of the stools. He wasn't surprised with the way she was acting, not really, knowing the situation he put them in some time ago. ”Y/N” He repeated, a little louder before dropping the glass onto the counter, causing her to huff before finally facing him.

Taking in the sight of him, already sitting by the counter, Y/N realized he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

”What the hell did I do to see you here today, Shelby?” Came out of her mouth as a greeting, her tongue effortlessly sharp as always before she cocked her eyebrow. ”Don't you have whiskey in your own pub?”

Tommy looked at her for a moment, nodding lightly with an amused smile, causing her anger to simmer even harder.

”Came to see what all the noise's about, yeah?” He offered, pushing his empty glass forward, as in a silent order for a fill up. Without missing a beat she turned it upside down, slamming against the wood in front of him.

”Unfortunately we're closing soon. Find your way out, would you?” She said, smiling so nicely in such a fake manner, Tommy internally winced.

Letting out a sigh, he got up from his chair, leaning forward on his arms.

”Don't be like that,” He insisted, looking her in the eyes.

Tommy knew how this... The whole situation looked. Without knowing the details, it was messy and he was an asshole. Like always. When usually it didn't bother him much, Tommy couldn't shake this off. So aware of what was going on in her head about him.

”Like what?” She hissed, unable to hold back the anger she held in her fear for so many days now. ”You made your choice, now don't you dare come around in a state of boredom telling me what to do!” She stated sharply, a little louder than intended which brought the attention of one of her coworkers, Diana.

She came closer, tossing the rag aside as she eyed both Thomas and Y/N, before reaching out to touch her shoulder.

”Everything alright, hun? Is this man bothering you?” She offered, narrowing her eyes without dropping his gaze.

Hearing it, Tommy smirked lightly, highly amused with how... Fitting this environment was to Y/N's combative personality.

Are all of them that feisty?

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair.

”No, Diana, it's fine he's just... A bloody idiot, he is.” She said, glaring at him before adding. ”But he's no threat. I'm fine. Get behind the bar, would you?”

After hearing an affirmative answer, Y/N grabbed a pack of cigarettes from under the counter, walking around it and heading through the door. Tommy stood there for a moment, with his eyebrows raised in surprise. Only when Diana narrowed his eyes at him, contempt clear as day in her eyes, he rolled his own before following after Y/N.

She didn't go far, as a cloud of smoke awaited him right by the entrance, in the slightly darker side of the building. Moving closer Tommy lit his own cigarette, the air around them much different as the scenery changed. The reality heaving on his heart as he saw her hardened face.

”Y/N just let me say something, aye? If after that you decide you can't be arsed to talk to me, I'll leave.” He offered, the previous confidence and cockiness in his voice now gone. A long silence followed the echo of his low, husky tone while Tommy awaited her answer, standing nearby, yet not close enough.

Her hand was super still, eyes blank as she stared ahead for a moment.

”I simply don't understand why you're bothering me now, Shelby. It's been a couple weeks and you're suddenly back like a bloody boomerang.” Y/N made sure her voice was steady and confident as she spoke, knowing that she would be able to read her eyes, so the poor lighting was an advantage she was happily using.

He walked back and fourth a couple steps, smoking the cigarette before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his black, leather shoe.

”Campbell sent her to the Garrison. She came and sang, lied to us lot sayin' she's from Ireland.” Thomas finally spoke up, taking a step forward and keeping just the minimal, necessary distance he knew she needed. His eyes locked on her as best as he could in the dark, feeling her gaze as she hears his words. ”But Polly knew, saw her by the cut with 'im. Wore a hat, thought it would be enough to fool us.” a dry chuckle left his lips. ”After a couple meetings she started spilling, believed I felt the same. Kept talkin' and I needed to have the full view before the races.” The explanation slowly started.. having sense. But not enough to calm her nerves fully.

”No need to explain it all, no it's in the past.” She said, focusing on the black material of his tie, not looking at his face. ”You've had a long time to tell me, hell, to warm me you'd go 'round with a blonde on your arm, but you didn't. Now it's– not important.” Y/N said, involuntarily stuttering by the end of her sentence.

It was all... Hard. Hard on a different level. Before it all came to a head, it was all uncertain as well. He'd come, take her places or fuck her over the counter. He'd tell her things, but never enough to make it special. Keep his arm around her shoulders in the pub but never call her his. Y/N wasn't sure what was happening between them back then, but she liked it. Felt good around the man with blood on his hands and dimples in his cheeks. The casual flings turning into something she held dear to her heart, without trying to make it hard on him with confessions.

...but then she came around, taking all his attention. Leaving Y/N feeling like nothing important, like an underwhelming fuck he'd want to forget about.

Not calling, not talking, not coming to see her.

So she moved past it, and now he was back, suddenly scooting closer and getting ahold of her hands as she finished her cigarette, ripping her out of the dark thoughts.

”He was watching you. Knew about us, I couldn't risk them taking you to jail. Not after Arthur came back barely walking.” His voice was stern, more desperate now as he saw what seemed to be indifference in her eyes. ”Look at me, Y/N” He asked, quieter, and this worked.

It always did when he talked to her gently, using the soft tone he hasn't used with anyone else. So she looked, seeing the sadness in his eyes.

”I'm looking, Thomas. It's a lot.” She admitted, her teeth nipping on her lower lip nervously.

”I know.” He responded, leaning down for a better look on her eyes. ”Today were the races. I was supposed to take her with me so she'd sing all the missing bits into my ear.” Tommy added, his voice growing husky, breathing more ragged.

”Why the hell would you tell me that now?” She asked, frustrated with his weird tactics, jealousy gnawing on her throat. Thomas smiled lightly, not noticeably seeing it.

”Because I didn't take her. Made sure she's gone for good.” Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her eyes meeting his as she searched for the truth. He was honest. Another step closed the distance between them, his firm chest pressing lightly against her own before he leaned forward, caging her between the wall. Calloused fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head up so she wouldn't look away.

Oh, how he missed the way she looked at him. These deep, expressive eyes he grew to yearn after whenever she wasn't around.

”Because when I touched her...” Tommy whispered, moving even closer. His warm breath touching her lips and chin. ”It felt like I was cheating on you.” His forehead came to rest against hers, feeling how she slightly relaxed against his body. ”I couldn't risk putting you in danger just because I so desperately need you around, Miss Y/L/N. You must forgive an old fool, eh?” His low voice slightly muffled, as his lips moved against hers in the incredibly close proximity they found themselves in.

Y/N chuckled, hearing him. The tears in her eyes remain hidden from his watchful gaze only because of the awful lighting by the pub.

”You're awful, Shelby.” She finally breathed out, leaving a small kiss, almost a peck on his lips before pushing her arms beneath his coat, wrapping them around his torso. ”Hug me, Tommy” Y/N asked quietly, touching the terrain they never explored before. The simple intimacy with no sexual undertones.

Surprisingly, Tommy couldn't imagine a better ending to this encounter as his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her face into his neck.

Resting his chin on her head, Thomas knew he was the real winner, regardless of the race results.

[bekolxeram]

Everyone decides to be sad about Tommy spending the holidays alone today. I just want to say, I hate you all. Especially @mmso-notlikethat with this post. As payback for making me cry my way into insomnia, I wrote this on my phone instead of sleeping.

By the time he knocks on the door, Tommy still has no idea what to expect. “Wear something nice, we’re celebrating tonight,” that’s the only instruction he’s received from Evan, his boyfriend once again. Tommy can’t help but smile at the mere thought of finally allowing himself to say that name.

He has a burgundy dress shirt on with a pair of light grey slim fit pants. Simple, but elegant, hopefully properly dressed for this undisclosed commemoration. March is not known for its holidays, so what’s the occasion that calls for such festivity? They did meet last March at the cruise ship rescue, maybe that was it? Or perhaps Evan is having some sort of career advancement? They’ve been back together for just a few weeks, there’s simply not enough time for Tommy to catch up on Evan’s ever so eventful life. To that, Tommy silently mourn the time they’ve lost, due to his own cowardice.

“Hey — Hey,” Evan takes a step outside of the door to greet Tommy with a quick peck on the lips. Tommy lets the younger man drag him into the loft without much reaction, because he’s still confused by the sight in front of him: Evan in his usual navy blue button up, dark jeans and… a Christmas hat?

Inside the loft is a jumble of sparkly festive decorations. To his left, he sees “Happy Birthday Tommy”; to his right, “Merry Christmas”; and deeper into the living space, “Happy New Year”.

“Jee and Mara helped setting these up,” Evan says while taking half of a roast turkey out of the oven. “This one is from Bobby. He said half a bird is enough for the two of us, if we don’t want to suffer through leftover for the next 7 days.” He then sets the tray next to some roasted vegetables and a casserole. “The casserole is from Chimney, but I’m pretty sure it’s Maddie’s recipe. Hen got you a cake. I think she said something about being sure you would like it. We can have it for dessert. Oh, and the champagne is from…”

“Eddie, because he can’t cook.” Tommy cuts in.

“Exactly!”

“Evan, what’s going on here?”

Evan steps closer, taking both of Tommy’s hands into his own, “You told me the other day that you spent your 40th birthday alone… I only realized later that you were probably on your own for the entire holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day. I know it doesn’t come close to the real thing, but I was thinking maybe we could make up for a few key moments that we missed.” He dims the lights in the loft with a remote control and fiddles with something on the dining table. Suddenly, the whole room is lit up with colorful patterns and twinkling stars. “I couldn’t get any firework around here, so I borrowed this star projector from Christopher.”

“Oh… Evan,” Tommy sighs, eyes already hazy with tears.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me or to make major commitments. I’m not asking for anything in return at all. This is… a promise, from me to you. No matter what happens, what becomes of us in the future, I’ll be there when you need me, we all will.”

Evan says earnestly, with utmost conviction in his tone. The clarity in his eyes reminds Tommy of that day at the café terrace, almost a year ago. “I just want you to know, Tommy, you’re no longer alone.”

A few drops of tears escape Tommy’s eyes, but before he can respond, Evan pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads.

“You have to kiss me now.” Evan says with a cheeky grin. Tommy waits no time to capture those smiling lips with his own, kissing him with all the love and gratitude in his heart.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so lucky to have you.” Tommy pulls him into a warm embrace.

“I love you too.” Now it’s Evan’s turn to tear up.

Tommy pulls back a little and asks, “hey, would you mind if we celebrate Valentine’s Day first?”

“Oh, you mean you’re interested in the Valentine’s Night activity?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you.”

[twisted-broth]

Partner in Crime

Mr Gap x reader

TW for murder and descriptions of gore

(Anything in bold is other world language)

Fuck you're bored. This place is boring. The same people are boring. Even when there's an earthquake you still see the same rooms, just in a different order.

Your main sources of entertainment were typically killing humans, working out, or sparring with Mr Machete. Much to your annoyance, it had been almost a month since another human got stuck here and you hadn't been able to find Mr Machete since the last earthquake.

Down to one of your last sources of entertainment that wasn't just wandering idly, you painstakingly hauled around blocks of rubble and cement in the room you dubbed the ruins. The ruins was what you assumed to be some kind of basement to this place, and where you often got dumped after a particularly bad earthquake. Luckily, it was also the location where an assortment of human world items wound up. But that wasn't what you were here for today. After several days of work, you had managed to make yourself a parkour course of sorts. Even if it was just a task to keep you from completely losing it, you were proud to have completed something.

With a newfound sense of satisfaction, you pounced from structure to structure. Since there wasn't much to do here besides run or fight for your life, you had gotten to be fairly athletic over time. Your fingertips still ached when you used them to cling onto outcroppings of rock, but the thick calluses you had grown over time served to dull the sting. Pain had become such a frequent occurrence in your day to day life that the scrapes forming on your hands and legs were merely another sensation, no different from the brush of wind.

Breathless, you leapt to your final destination, a shelf of rock sticking out from the wall about 30 feet from the ground. From the comfort of your perch, you gaze down at the floor below, feeling satisfied with your victory over the desecrate room.

"Heart."

You nearly fall off your pedestal at the sudden voice coming from the wall behind you. Whipping around, you saw exactly who you expected to see peering out at you from a crack you hadn't previously noticed in the wall.

Heart. It had taken a while for you to realize that he was no longer asking for your heart when he said it. Over time, and as the two of you grew closer, it had become his way of referring to you. It would seem the association between hearts and love was a universal concept.

"Hello heart. What doing?" You greeted him in return by leaning in closer to the gap, giving him to chance to kiss you if he desired. Even in the semblance of a relationship, Mr Gap still retained his aversion to touch. It would seem he was in a good mood today because he extended his neck as far as he was capable of to meet your lips.

A kiss with Mr Gap wasn't exactly what you would have described as pleasurable if you were still in your old world, but it was exactly what you would expect of someone in this place. His lack of lips had you kissing the strangely smooth flesh that encircled his void-like mouth. Much like his arms, he could call forth his tongue and teeth at will. Of course this was used to scare you whenever you made the mistake of letting your guard down. He seemed to have mercy on you today, as you pulled away with only a small nick on your lower lip. You noticed a drop of your blood contrasting against his grey tongue before it disappeared once more.

"Me find something. You excited." It was clear that he was also excited about whatever it was he had found, but he wanted to build up the suspense.

"What you find?" You asked, humoring him. His smile grows.

"Human here. New human. Other people not find." You quickly straighten up at the news. Finally, something interesting! And thanks to Mr Gap, this new toy could be all yours for the low, low price of... something, probably.

"Human here? They give heart?" That was your deal to keep things fair. Mr Gap would get first dibs, but if he failed then you got free range.

He sighs. "Not give. Disappointing. You go?"

You clap and jump to your feet in excitement. Finally, something interesting! "Yes me go! You take me?"

He rolled his eyes, but you could still see the smile he tried to hide. Usually he would ask you for something and you would go around in circles until he gave up, but he must be bored too since he reached out and grabbed hold of your ankle without the usual performance. Traveling through the void that Mr Gap lived in had been jarring the first few times, but now the blackness was just as much a home to you as it was to him. In the moments where neither of you had a physical form, you were one. You could feel Mr Gap's guiding presence expertly leading you both through the void. After a few minutes (or maybe seconds it was hard to tell), you emerged from a broken vent somewhere on the other side of the vast labyrinth that was your home.

You looked back at the hole you emerged from to see that Mr Gap was holding out your trusty crowbar for you. "Thank you!" You chirped as you took the tool from him. Having completed his delivery, Mr Gap disappeared from the vent. Looking up, you could see only his eye peering down at you from a small hole in the ceiling. It was nice to know you would have an audience for your show.

Light footsteps began to grow louder, coming from around the nearby corner. You propped your crowbar against the wall and leaned up next to it, trying to look natural. Soon enough, a young man in a grey hoodie rounded the corner. It was hard to tell, but you got the feeling that he would also speak English, so you gave it a shot.

"Hello. You look lost." After spending so long here, the English words felt awkward. The man's eyes light up and his shoulder visibly sag in relief. A weak smile crossed his face.

"Another person! Oh thank god it's so nice to see a friendly face here. All these monsters have been making my skin crawl." It was hard to keep up with the speed of his words. Were there really always so many? So unnecessary.

"You're scared? They're not all that bad. Looks can be deceiving." In fact, you were surprised he even thought you were still human. Most of your arms and face were wrapped in bandages and your short white hair was nearly as greasy and stringy as your partners.

"I don't see how they can be. They're all freaks and I can't even understand them! First there was that guy with no eyes who doesn't walk, then that severed head, and then that freaky face in the walls..." he slumps against the wall with a sigh.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Crawling and Chopped were two of the nicest residents here. And it was clear that he had made no effort to learn the language of this world. What a moron.

"Freaks? That's not very nice. They probably would have treated you better than I will. At least the face in the wall- my boyfriend by the way- would have given you a quick death." You watched with satisfaction as the blood drained from his face the longer you spoke. Crowbar in hand, you waited while he pathetically scrambled to his feet.

"You're one of them!" He accused you, as if it were some great revelation.

"Nah. I'm worse." Adrenaline flooded your muscles, tensing them in just the right way that you could spring into action the second your prey began to run.

This guy clearly wasn't very athletic by the way he was audibly panting and tripping over his feet after only a short sprint. Still, your heart pounded at just the thrill of the chase. Out of your peripherals, you caught glances of Mr Gap's white scleras following you, jumping from void to void to keep up with the chase.

"Me help?" He didn't want to intrude on your game without permission. How sweet.

"Yes." Who would you be if you were to deny him a bit of entertainment too?

The human rounded the next corner and began to rapidly approach an open door at the end of the hallway. He speeds up, no doubt assuming his salvation was within reach. Seconds before he reaches it, a hand flies out from a vent at the base of the wall, grabbing his ankle and sending him sprawling to the ground. Just to add insult to injury, Mr Gap's face smiles down at him from the open door before it is slammed shut, cutting the human off from his last hope.

You reveled in the fear in his eyes as he looked up at you. He trembled beneath you, one arm raised in a feeble attempt to block the incoming blow. Fear had taken his ability to speak, his lips only making the motions of "no" over and over. You can barely hear Mr Gap's shrill laughter over the pounding of blood in your ears.

Sure this place was boring most of the time, but there was something especially exhilarating about killing a prey already in unfamiliar territory. This was your domain, and you did well to establish that. The splatter of blood on your face would be worn as a symbol of your status. As the finishing touch of your ritual, you tore into the warm chest of the human and ripped out the heart as it gave one final, weak attempt to keep the body alive.

As your pulse slowly returns to its normal rhythm, you proudly display your gift to your partner in crime.

[al0velyuniverse]

POOKIE love love love the ghoap x reader content thank for feeding me nomnomnom BUT what about ghoap x reader where reader is a member of 141?? like a whole lethal force of her own and not like a barracks bunny and whatnot 🤨🤨 just a thought :3

Oh absolutely!! I will say unless i specifically say reader is a barracks bunny reader is usually 141’s civilian sweetheart!

but let’s get some sexy bad ass reader up in here with Ghoap

- the first time they see reader was when they accidentally walked into one of your sparring sessions and watched you take down a man closer in size/stature to them than yourself (they were instantly smitten)

- the boys were definitely together before meeting you, so winning you over was a group effort

- and what an effort it was, you would not give them the time of day for MONTHS. Not wanting anyone to assume you got as far as you did from sleeping with or flirting with men of a higher rank

- going out for drinks with the 141 is a nightmare. Any time you find a guy you’re interested and the two of you start flirting Ghost will give them a look that sends them running or Soap will drape himself on you like he already owns you

- you’ve definitely kicked Soaps ass in a sparring session more than once (much to Ghosts delight. you can keep Soap in his place, he likes that)

- While you can’t best him in any sort of physical competition you can outshoot Ghost 7 times out of 10 and you will never let him live down your wins

- When they finally convince you to go out on a date with them they would not stop celebrating

- Despite hyping themselves up every moment leading up to the date they damn near fumble you entirely, Ghost tripping over his words and Soap being far too eager

- somehow those boys manage to charm you. Not enough to go home with them after that first date, but enough to agree to go on a second date

- When you finally get together officially the news spreads like a wild fire around base, both jealous and terrified whispers circulating right back to you three

- Price took to calling you the ‘terror trio’ because of how deadly the three of you were on the field (definitely not because of the absolute headache the three of you together gives him)

- they’re completely obsessed with you, their cutthroat sweetheart. They like that nobody tries to mess with you because you’re scary, not them.

[saltnsugarbear]

KNOCK KNOCK congratulations on your celebration!!

“This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal. With Carmy perhaps 🧎🏼‍♀️ forbidden romance of some sort

this got soooo far away from me ummm

word count: 2.1k, it got so far from me guys

content warnings: MDNI!!! afab reader genitalia, unprotected sex, mentioned drinking, mentions of the walk-in incident

side note: i finally get to clock in on my "what if reader was claires sibling" bullshit, which no identifiers are mentioned so they could be adopted, but we're a bit messy lmao

You've always had a thing for Carmen Berzatto.

The boy down the street. The youngest of the three bears.

However you spent more time with Nat, dragged into her orbit on the volleyball court. She was peeking over your shoulder one day, looking at the shot you had gotten of the rival girls on the field. After that you two became attached at the hip until she graduated. Even afterwards you still kept in contact while going through your separate schools.

Nat was there when you walked across the stage. Seeing you and Carmy walk across the stage that afternoon left Natalie in tears in the crowd, clapping as loud as she could when they called your name.

Being friends with Nat and related to Claire left you little room to entertain your crush though. Being in the same year as both of them was enough to make you hit your head on the desk everytime they stared longingly at each other. It made you want to tear your hair out.

Claire wasn't very good at keeping a diary, leaving it out on her bed or desk. Wide open for anyone to read.

That's how you knew about her crush on Carmen. The way she talked about him, made him out to be this mythical shy guy who couldn't speak up for himself. (Mostly she complained about school but didn't you all?)

So high school yielded no action for you. Instead pining from afar, lingering in rooms when Sugar sparingly invited you to her house.

Richie always seemed to be around that house, entering or leaving or hearing him from inside the house. You had seen from your own front lawn how Richie and Mikey liked to dog on Carmy, arm slung around his shoulder and laughing loudly as Carmen's ears and face flushed. Sometimes Nat was there, shoving at Richie's arm as he tried to boost to her something he and Mikey had done.

So being in Carmy's orbit was enough until he went off to New York and Copenhagan and you never saw him again.

Not until Claire texted you saying she had run into Carmy at the grocery store.

Hearing the ups and downs of Claire and Carmy's relationship almost daily was grueling. Their adventures and scheming and spending the night at his house finally.

But it got you back in contact with Sugar, which was nice. You got to catch up with her on her grieving and her life with Pete and her expected baby.

Claire and Sugar invited you to friend's and family night at his restaurant. An exclusive time at the newest fine dining in Chicago. It was obvious you would go, invited not once but twice it basically played into your lap.

That's how you ended up watching Claire walk out of The Bear's kitchen with tears in her eyes. Richie is quick to trade places with her as you watch her walk out of the front door, the two Faks tailing behind her.

The screaming on Richie's side of the door is messy and loud. You can't even hear Carmy through the door.

Sugar keeps you around for support and clean up as the hardware man takes out the door. The sound of the saw is loud as you wipe down counters and return dishes to cabinets.

Carmy makes his presence sparing when he gets out of the walk-in, beelining for the back door. After a few minutes Sugar comes to find you.

"Hey.." She leans against the counter, watching you scrub at a particularly annoying spot.

"Hmm?" You hum, glancing at her quickly.

"You're good to leave... I... I'm sorry about... All of tonight, I didn't think..." Natalie trails off.

"Didn't think Carmy would break up with my sister?" You ask dryly. Natalie huffs next to you, ducking her head forward and leaning her forehead against your shoulder.

"Yeah... It's... I'm sorry.." Natalie sighs as you bring an arm around her. "I appreciate you..."

You hum softly, resting your cheek against the top of her head. "S'okay.."

"Nat?" It's Pete. Calling from the dining area before his head peeks in. Both of you turn to face him where he stands in the doorway holding Sugar's coat.

"Thank you, again.." Nat sighs, placing a quick kiss to your temple before letting go of you and heading towards Pete.

Natalie leaving means your in the kitchen mostly by yourself, save for the hardware guy.

He's not your problem so you head for the back door, collecting one of the coats from where it hangs and tugging it on before walking outside.

You find Carmy leaning against his car, cigarette between his lips and jacket unbuttoned, showing you the white tee that hugs his chest tight. He's built muscle since the last time you saw him... Back in high school.

"Hey..." You call softly to him, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk towards him cautiously.

"Hmm.." Carmy hums as he exhales, removing the cigarette from his lips before he turns to you. "Oh shit.."

His response makes you huff, smiling at him softly.

"You grew up." He says it as an observation but it makes your cheeks flush.

"So did you.." You tell him, tilting your head to the side. Carmy shrugs at this, sliding down his car to make room for you next to him.

"Gonna yell at me, too?" He asks, bringing the stick back to his mouth and inhaling.

"No..." You tell him, sliding onto the edge of the hood. "You've been yelled at enough tonight, let you have a break."

Carmy shakes his head before offering you his cigarette. You take it graciously, having only ever smoked a few times.

"Didn't know Sugar still kept you around..." He says casually, watching as you bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale shortly.

You hum around the filter before handing it back to him.

"Not so much anymore.. Both too busy for it.." You shrug. "Kind of hid away after you left. Didn't hear from her too often until um... Until Mikey.."

"Oh.." Carmy says and you sigh. "Didn't know that um.. that she-"

"S'okay," you tell him. "You didn't know.. Partially my fault, phone works both ways. Since you're unaware of that."

Carmy scoffs, shaking his head at you again and making you chuckle.

"Sorry I didn't uh... I didn't see you at her table..." He doesn't have to say who's table. He was so enraptured with her and it wasn't anything new. But this time it looked like a tainted enrapture, one that was going to drive him mad.

"Nothing new.." You mutter, tucking your burrowed coat in close.

"What does that mean?" Carmy snickers, looking at you sideways. You shrug, softly tapping your heel against the car.

"Just that.... Well just that you never really paid attention to me whenever she was around.." You twist your fingers around a loose string hanging from your hood. "So like... It wasn't a surprise you didn't notice me.."

You don't know why you're saying all of this. Maybe it's the wine they so readily supplied, making you loose lipped. Carmy's looking at you absolutely bewildered.

"What-"

"It's really not that big of deal, Carmy. Did it when we were in school too, not a big thing.." You brush him off, waving your hand at him like you can physically clear it from the board.

"But-"

"Doesn't matter," you cut him off. "Doesn't matter, doesn’t matter. Doesn't-"

You press a finger to his lips when he trys to speak up again. "Matter."

Carmy huffs against your finger when you're done.

"Done?" Carmy asks you while you study him. When you're sure that he's not going to try talking again, you remove your finger from his lips.

You watch as Carmy let's his cigarette fall, snuffing it out when he turns to face his body towards yours. You both stare at each other for a moment, glancing over every little feature that might have changed.

Somewhere between your impromptu staring contest and your back hitting Carmy's front door, someone had made the move. Maybe it was Carmy who brought his hand to cradle your jaw and closed the gap. Maybe you had pushed off the hood of the car and pushed Carmy up against the car door.

What ever it was had you up against Carmy's door, breathing heavily as he fumbles for his keys. Carmy fumbles with his keys, swearing softly as he pushes his hips harder against yours. You whine as the lock finally clicks, door pushing open behind you as Carmy leads you.

As soon as the doors closed Carmy is reconnecting your lips, guiding you back, back, back until your lower back hits a rough edge. The force surprises a groan out of you, welcoming Carmy to explore your mouth. Carmy's hands are firm as they climb upwards, resting and squeezing softly at your chest. He's quick to tangle his fingers in your shirt, tugging it up and breaking the kiss to lift it over your head and leaving you in just your under clothes. The way he whines when he can finally get his hands on you is intoxicating, driving your hands to grab at his waistband.

Carmy's own fingers snake down to pop the button of your pants, tugging down your zipper with ease.

"This is wrong.." Carmy pants against your lips, hooking his thumbs in your waistband of your pants and underwear and shoving them down your thighs.

"So wrong..." You say, tugging his belt out of the buckle and undoing his button and zipper.

"We should stop..." Carmy betrays his words, helping you push down his pants and stepping out of them to push up against you. His erection is painfully obvious as he grinds against you.

"Definitely," you agree, pushing yourself up onto his counter. You kick your pants off, letting them fall to the floor at Carmy's feet. Carmy groans into your skin, pressing kisses to your neck as his hands knead at your thighs.

"You should.... Should go.." He whispers against your collarbone as his hands slide just out of reach of your core. You can't fight the whine you let out at his teasing touch, grabbing his wrist to coax him closer.

"Uh-huh.." You nod, closing your eyes as the pads of his fingers swipe between your folds. Carmy's breathing is heavy as he prods at your entrance, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

When he finally pushes in, you can feel his sharp inhale against your skin. His reaction causes you to open your eyes, looking down and following his gaze. Carmy is watching the way his middle and ring fingers stretch you open, pushing until he's to the knuckles. You whine softly as Carmy curls his fingers up against your inner walls, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit causing you to buck up to his hold. He starts with shallow thrusts, driving his fingers deep and yours into his curls.

"Need.... Need now, Carm..." You whine, bucking up into his motions. Carmen groans softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. The hand not in his hair, slips fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging down at the elastic. He groans softly, starting to trail kisses up along your neck again.

"Please, Carm.." You whisper as he slowly starts slipping his fingers out of you, making you pout at the loss. His hands are quick to take over for yours, shoving off his boxers and letting his length spring free.

"Sure 'bout this?" He whispers against your cheek, nipping softly along your jaw.

"Uh-huh.." You nod, scooting your hips closer to the edge of the counter and feeling the warmth of him against your thigh. "Y're so warm, Carmy..."

The twitch he gives you in response to your whine makes you grin, capturing his lips quickly. "Please?"

Carmen is easy to persuade, bringing your knees to his sides and nudging his head up against your entrance. The first push makes you inhale sharply, just the tip much thicker than his two fingers. Carmy groans next to your ear, hands holding your hips tight.

"S'warm... Tight..." Carmy grunts, pushing a little deeper at his own words. You nod anyways, not registering his words but your body does. Carmy whines when he feels your walls clenching around him, bringing one of his hands to guide your face to him and kissing you deeply.

With you distracted Carmy is able to push until his hips are flush with yours, making you both groan.

"Gonna make you feel s'good.." Carmy promises.

And he does.

[endlessdreamworld]

Under the Veil

An 18+ fic starring Aventurine X Fem!Reader as husband and wife. Minors DNI, sort of a continuation of the general headcanons post I wrote CW: infertility, A pretty harrowing dead dove do no eat flashback involving graphic depictions of sex trafficking, non con and SA for past Aventurine, as well as a brief mention of drugs. Wordcount: 4.5k

You felt grateful for your husband’s embrace now more than ever. It was warmth you desperately needed. It was security you didn’t deserve, not when you feel like you’ve robbed him of something he deserved more than anyone else in the world. Last but not least, it muffled your quiet sobs as you processed the reality you should have been expecting all along. After all, you and Aventurine have been actively trying for kids since the day you got married over three years ago. Something was critically wrong, but you both believed that this was something money could fix. You had already spent so much money crafting the perfect nest for all of the little ones you promised to bring into the world together. You promised him no less than half a dozen kids with eyes as bright and vivid as his and no one else’s. You weren’t one to ever break your promises, not until today.

A fresh wave of tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes and into your husband’s shoulder. You didn’t deserve to be comforted like this – not when you failed him so terribly, but you knew if you tried to pull away he wouldn’t have it. So instead you inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of today’s chosen cologne. You shuddered when you quickly recognized the smell of lavender. If anyone knew the first thing about scented oils it was the calming and anxiety relieving factors of lavender. Between the pacifying fragrance and the feeling of his sweater made from the cashmere of some rare creature, it was a matter of time before the tears finally stopped.

It was unlike Aventurine to wear a simple sweater as part of the ensemble of his outfit of the day given just how much fun he has peacocking around, but between the softness of the cashmere and the session of aromatherapy, his feelings on the matter of your infertility were obvious. He was fully prepared for this outcome and came deliberately equipped to ease you through the heartbreak. Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stroked your back until you found yourself kissing him back on the shoulder and the inside of his neck. After a few more deep breaths, you worked up the nerve to look him in his eyes. It was a relief to see them narrowed softly, exuding as much warmth as the day you both took your wedding vows. You felt lighter to see he loved you as much as ever. “I’m sorry honey,” you whispered into his neck. He gave you a squeeze, and laughed quietly. The soft melodic lilt tickled the tip of your ear.

You weren’t the same after receiving the news of your utterly barren womb. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes and you stayed in bed more and more. Aventurine was dying on the inside seeing you struggle like this, feeling entirely responsible for it. He’s always wanted to be a father, that much was apparent. He made it known countless times well before the talks of marriage. The Sigonian was quite good at dealing with the cards he was given both literal and metaphorical. It’s rare that he misplays so catastrophically.

Aventurine knew it would be no easy task to convince you how little this mattered to him in the bigger scheme of things, how it was you who was his everything. You saw through it all, the bravado, the bluffing, the bullshit. You barely had to try and you found the pathetic shell of a man beneath the fineries and you chose to dive in head first. It was a long and miserable road to get to a point where you were both happy.  The fact that you were even engaging in regular intimacy after everything he’s been through is nothing short of a miracle.

Sex trafficking and slavery go hand in hand, and the life of a ‘pretty slave’ in the hands of society’s upper crust was one of unparalleled shame. He, of course, was mostly transparent about how… well used he was. Your husband never gave you the full details of what happened, favoring to spin the lie of how ‘he forgot’ which he hoped would become the truth like the other half dozen lies he continuously spun. 

He wanted to forget his first time, auctioned off to a man who was no less than thrice as old as he was, lusting over someone who was still more boy than man. He wanted to forget how that predator’s chest hair felt against his back, how the sweat slickened curls made him squirm while they left their slimy trails along his flesh. Aventurine wanted to forget the feeling of the man’s palm on his cheek as he forced the Sigonian’s face into the pillows and lined up their hips. He wanted to forget the pain of the violation. Most of all, he wanted to forget the humiliation of his body’s own betrayal as the high roller stroked him off, the little mewls and groans that slipped through his traitorous lie spinning lips before he made a mess on the bed. He wanted to forget the feeling of blood laced spunk dripping down his thigh that night. It was no small consolation that he at least had long forgotten that face.

 He wanted to forget the taste of sweat and salt leaking from every cock he had to suck. He wanted to forget the shapes of them, the smell of them, the leers, the smacks, the feeling of strangers tugging on his hair. He wanted to forget the ‘parties’ his master rented him out to. He wanted to forget about the streaks of jizz on his lower back, how they wiped themselves off on him leaving hedonistic tallies keeping score of some sick game they played amongst themselves. He wanted to forget the drugs needed to perform when his body would no longer cooperate. He – “Honey, are you okay?” You asked him. He had been staring off into space for a while. Whenever he gets like this, it’s pretty obvious he’s stuck somewhere inside of memories he didn’t want to be shackled to.

Ah, even now you’re worrying about me? He thought, and tilted your chin up to give you a kiss on your cheek right below your eye. “Me? I’m fine of course but what about you?” He cupped your face. “You’ve been out of it for the past week. I’ve been worried sick you know?” Truth be told, he was giving you some space but he was always ready to come running when you were finally ready to share some of the pain you’ve been carrying lately with him.

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I think we should talk.” Oh those dreaded words he always hated hearing. You’ve almost never said them, only when your relationship was in dire straits and you needed something from him in specific. It’s been ages since he heard them.

“Right, I’m sure we do,” he said and sat down next to you on the couch. He faced towards you and rested his arm along the top of the couch. You reached into your bag and pulled out a few resources, but it’s hard for him to pay attention to what’s in your hands when all he can see are the bags under your eyes.

“I’ve been looking into some options for us,” you presented him with some printed documents regarding surrogacy services. “So you can still be a father and pass on the bloodline.” He grew utterly quiet, but you’re undeterred, “Or maybe you could sign up at a fertility clinic and see if you can be registered as a sperm donor. I know Sigonians aren’t exac-”

“Stop,” he cut you off. Your hands froze and clutched onto your well intentioned but foolish research. His fingers rubbed against the backs of yours, coaxing you into giving up those unnecessary papers. You acquiesced and let him shuffle them back onto the table. “We can go to other doctors, get a second or third opinion or whatever.”

It hurt to hear him hold onto hope like this because the chance of having your own children was slim to none. “But what if it just can’t happen?”

“Then it just won’t happen,” he smiled but you could see the pain in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to give this up, Kakavasha. I know how much your Avgin heritage means to you. I–” tears threatened the edge of your vision, and your husband shushed you. “I promised you I’d –” he put his index and middle finger against your lips, sealing them in a gentle hold.

“Ishla rhim,” he addressed you with the Avgin term of endearment meant only for the most intimate of moments. One would be lucky to hear it more than a couple of times in their life. “Let’s pray together, do you remember how? Or do you need a little reminder?” His voice is  as warm and sweet as his namesake.

“I remember,” you told him while lifting up the wrong hand.

He clicked his tongue playfully and retrieved the correct hand while kissing the other. “It’s our left ones. You’ll always see our commitment to each other when we pray,” he rubbed the pad of his finger along the skin of your wedding band seared into your flesh with the same ink that was used for his commodity.

“Right,” you nod and he kissed your forehead. You began to recite the prayer cautiously, “May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you…?”

He nodded, “That’s right. Don’t forget the part about keeping your blood eternally pulsing.”

You groaned, “You’d think I’d know the prayer by heart after all this time.”

He laced his fingers with yours pressing your palms flat together. “You do know it, but you’re feeling a bit nervous is all.” He squeezed your fingers together and peppered the backs of your fingers with kisses, one for each knuckle. “Your fingers are shaking. Let me take over.” He recited the prayer line by line, with you following along. Yet still, you didn’t seem to feel better and he could tell. 

The air grew heavier between the two of you, and you finally broke the suffocating silence. “I think we should look into alternatives just in case…” “I’m not interested,” he said, leaving no further room for discussion. “It was only ever going to be you and I.” It was unlike you to be so pushy. You were always so mindful of his needs and careful with his boundaries.

Just as you were about to try to find another angle, he leaned over you, effectively caging you against the back of the couch. “Wife,” he begins, his eyes were colder than you’d seen them before and there was a hint of desperation in the calm black depths of his pupils that made the vivid brights of his iris seem to glow. “I think you’d benefit greatly from being reminded of our wedding vows.” His eyes roamed from your eyes to your lower lip. He grabbed your chin and tilted your face at such an angle where he commanded every last scrap of your attention. “Because you seem to be forgetting the part about ‘in sickness and in health’ and that simply won’t do. How about we renew our vows, right here, right now, hmm?” Aventurine brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth. He nuzzled his face against yours, the caress of his long and full eyelashes finally pulled you from this pit you threw yourself into. You took a better look at him and saw that look again, that one a pet would give you before you closed the door on them before leaving for one task or another. It was that look that screamed ‘please don’t throw me away’ at the top of its lungs. 

How very thoughtless of you, ignoring what was right before your very eyes. You cupped Aventurine’s face with both of your hands and his eyes fluttered shut. Guilt twisted inside of your guts, knotting you in a way that made your stomach flip. It finally dawned on you just how bad of a spot you put his already tortured soul into. “I think I may need a reminder, but not here,” you patted the couch. “There’s not enough pillows.”

“Right,” he sighed in mock defeat, “What was I thinking?” Aventurine scooped you up as he rose to his feet. “Silly me.” Countless times you were the source of his comfort, his little slice of heaven molded into flesh and shaped into his home. Now here you are, in desperate need of comfort and it’s his turn to perform. The stakes have never been higher. He knew if he failed to relieve you of that all-devouring guilt of yours, then a part of you would never be the same and he was having none of it. Aventurine set you down in the middle of your marital bed and you started making quick work of your buttons. “Hey!” he called out to you in a pout, making you freeze. “Hi?” your fingers sheepishly fidgeted with the last remaining button that kept your clothes together.

Your husband approached the edge of the bed and sat down beside you. “That’s not how our wedding night went. This,” his fingers brushed aside your own as he ran the tip of his finger along the flat surface, “was my job. And you stole it from me. Guess we gotta change things up this time.”

Aventurine put his hand on your cheek and you took the opportunity to steal a little more from him. You pawed at his clothes before he had the opportunity to disrobe himself. He hummed in amusement, “Someone is very eager,” he mused, the corners of his lips curled up into that smirk of his that never failed to make you feel like a total mess. It did him well to see you perking up a bit. He playfully pushed you down onto the bed, “Roll over for me. I want to see you on your hands and knees tonight.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You rolled over onto your stomach, just in time to see Aventurine finish undressing. He threw himself onto the bed next to you and brushed your hair back, taking a moment to just… soak in the sight of you. Ages ago he’d lay down next to you, too scared to touch you, scared to make you dirty. You always took things slow, always left the floor open for every no he was brave enough to say. That’s why the talk of all of these ‘options’ felt so unnecessary.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” he quipped smoothly. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, but he seemed content enough so there was no need to press him on it. He weaved his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt before sliding his hand up the skin on your back. With his free hand, he popped open that last button you so graciously saved for him. Aventurine made quick work of the rest of your clothing and basked in the familiar sight of you. It would always only be you. He trailed his fingers down your back, leaving little paths of gooseflesh in their wake.

“That tickles,” you laughed quietly and rubbed your back against his exploring hand. As you went to roll over and swat his hand away, he held onto your wrist and kept you on your stomach.

“On your knees for me. Please?” He nuzzled the side of your cheek. This isn’t a position you took often, so it was tremendously exciting. You felt invigorated by the simple gesture of getting on all fours. Your husband placed a hand on your hip to savor the feeling of your skin and quickly clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Too cold.” He stepped away. You turned your head to see him fidgeting with the thermostat.

“It’s not that serious. I’m not cold, I’m lonely,” you whined from on the bed. He always doted on you so much, too much even – especially during intimacy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t understand it. His words from the day you finally bridged that threshold play inside of your mind on loop during times like these. “I’ve been embraced so many times before, but this is the first time I’ve been held.”

He laughed at how petulant you’re being, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it heartwarming. Aventurine returned to your side and placed his hand on your back once more. He slid the tips of his fingers past your hips, past your ass, until they settled around your already damp lips. He traced his fingers along your slit and felt your slick stick to his dexterous digits. Your husband knew your body well and didn’t even need to slip a finger in to know how easily you’d take two more. “Yes, you certainly feel very lonely.” The way he said it made you want to protest his teasing, but honestly? He didn’t want to leave you unsatisfied for any longer.

The bed shifted under his weight as he joined you. You bent your arms, your front half dipping low enough so you could feel your chest settle on those oh so familiar soft silk sheets. Your husband sighed in satisfaction as he settled his hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his hands radiated through the relaxed muscles of your back. Strands of his soft blonde hair tickled the side of your face before you felt his nose rub against the left side of your neck. He placed a tender kiss right on the same spot his commodity tattoo would be and you purred in turn, your hands already clutching at the sheets as you salivated in anticipation. Aventurine gave himself a couple of strokes before he nestled the head of his cock at the entrance of your snatch, the lips swollen and puffy from arousal. He smirked into the skin of your neck.

“Wow, I don’t even have to touch you anymore to turn your guts into tangled ribbons,” he whispered in such a sultry tone before running his tongue along the artery in your neck. Your pulse raced wildly against the damp muscle oh so deliciously. He loved driving you crazy like this, loved the way he could move your heart, loved the noises he was going to pry out of your sweet lips.

He was met with no resistance as he bore his weight down on you. The head of his cock breached your entrance before he carefully sheathed himself into you. A little sigh of delight huffed out of your partially parted mouth. You gave a light wave with your fingers as an invitation. Aventurine placed the palm of his hand over the back of yours, lacing your hands together. He gave you a light squeeze and finished bottoming out before kissing the side of your neck.

It was a bit surprising feeling him stop there, and you thought that maybe he changed his mind. Before you had time to overthink it, he murmured into your ear as a reminder, “We’re supposed to be renewing our vows, love.”

Oh yes, that’s right, you were already so cock drunk that you forgot that part. “Right, it was just the –” you felt the tip of the fingers of his free hand trail land on your sternum. They felt cold against your burning skin.

“Yes?”

“The standard ones, something classic.” It was so unbelievably hard to keep your head in the corporeal realm when Aventurine’s touch was propelling you to heaven.

“Right, I’m listening. I want to hear you recite them because I think you might have forgotten.”

“For bett-” he started to drag his fingers from your sternum to your navel, leaving a pit in your stomach. He felt your weeping cunt seize his shaft in a chokehold. Your voice pitched high, “better andpoorer.”

“For better and for worse,” he nipped your ear and trailed his fingers back up the center of your torso before they settled back between your breasts. You clamped down firmly on his hand in your own, an attempt at avenging your broken focus. “Come on, what was next?”

“For richer, an-” he dragged his fingers from above to further below this time, settling just over your womb. “Richer and for poorer.”

He placed a warm kiss on your temple. “Good girl,” he cooed, tickling your hair. “Next?”

Your tongue swiped at your lower lip and then spit out the next bit as fast as you possibly could before he had the opportunity to scramble your brains anymore than he already had. “Insicknessan-” You should have known better than to try something like this. The moment you committed to spitting out your wedding vows, Aventurine had already taken hold of your swollen clit in between his fingers. You stumbled, unable to hold your hips up for a brief moment. Not that it had any affect on your position with the way he was holding onto you.

“In sickness and in health, and don’t you dare ever forget it,” he threatened.

You shook your head and then laid it out one last time, “But what if this is it? What if we can’t have kids of our own.”

Your husband grew silent, and you’re afraid you broke the moment when all you wanted was to be considerate of what he was sentencing himself to.

“Then it’s very simple, isn’t it?” His thighs rubbed against yours as he rolled his hips. The way his cock grinds against your core makes your eyes roll back into your head. “I’ll be the last Avgin. The bloodline dies with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Aventurine holds you still as he rocks back and forth in a steady motion. He sounded so happy as he said it, and the last of this festering worry was stolen away from you. 

Fuck, he knew just the right thing to say didn’t he? It wasn’t fair. If only you could be half as good as he was but right now, all you could do was confess a sloppy “I love you,” into the mattress accompanied by a thin stream of drool.

He huffed a breathy laugh against your back, “Oh I know you do.” Cocky and self-assured, just the way you like him. Aventurine inhaled and lightly rolled his fingers, swirling your bead in pace with the soft rock of his body against yours. You sighed, you squealed, you sang – just for him. Oh how he loved to hear you, see you, smell you. He focused on those sensations as he tried to believe the lie he just told you. Was it a lie though, if it was one of omission? It’s not like he was lying to you outright. While yes, it was that simple, that this was what he wanted, he’d be lying if he didn’t say how painful the solitude would be.

But none of that was important, not when the scent of your shampoo tickled his senses, nor when he watched the wet spot near your face slowly grow from the steady stream of drool. It was some delightful proof of just how much you were enjoying yourself. He had you right where he wanted you, and although it was out of character for him to leave you hanging on the edge, there was something he needed to do for himself or rather for both of your sakes.

“I’m going to grab something to make things a bit more exciting,” he kissed your forehead before carefully disentangling himself from you. Aventurine had enough kink for a lifetime after all of the subjugation he went through so he didn’t own what he was looking for. A substitute would do. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time nor the last time that he would hide behind his wealth as a shield. He retrieved his favorite necktie, and swirled it proactively. It was some unintentional good planning on his part that he’s spent countless hours on sleight of hand tricks. He needed the practice now more than ever. If anyone would be able to spot his facade slipping, his fingers shaking and unsure, it would be you – his chosen life partner. “Here, let me put this on,” he said as he wrapped the makeshift blindfold around your eyes. A tool, a misdirection, a temporary respite.

Aventurine rolled you onto your back and you were none the wiser to the forlorn and broken expression on his face. He needed to cry, to mourn the family you were supposed to have. The nursery he’d disassemble by himself for your sake. He couldn’t worry you, not when you needed the comfort more, when he knew what it was like to feel small and helpless as your body betrayed what you wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult to pass his tears off as sweat, his shaking voice as swells of his own pleasure. Of course he felt good too. Everyone is more comfortable at home. He saw your fingers twitching in his peripherals, a tell that was far more consistent and obvious than the frenzied fluttering of your insides. Yes, now would be a good time.

Your husband crashed his lips against yours, a calculated act of theft as he stole your cries of ecstasy right out of your throat. Some might call it slimy, some might call it cunning, he called it commitment as he used the tortured screams of your climax to mask his own erratic breathing and whimpers of heartbreak. You fell still beneath him and hummed in satisfaction. Your fingers peeled off the blindfold, and you could finally get a good look of his smiling face. He thanked Gaiathra Triclops for giving him the strength to pull himself together so he could face you with a proper smile instead of that hollow one you’d see right through in a heartbeat. “I didn’t know renewing our vows could be so fun,” you beamed up at him, a smile as calming as the moon. He found himself nuzzling into your hand. “Romantic right?”

You laughed and nodded enthusiastically beneath him. “Wanna get cleaned up?” You gave his cheek a squish.

“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Your life together carried on. This was just another point in time, one he wouldn’t deem as suffering no matter how painful. As a gambler he weighed the risks and rewards of every encounter, every interaction. Every move was calculated, every word was said with purpose. Who knows? Maybe Mama Fenge would bless him with a miracle. After all, as the fortunate boy born on the day of Kakava he was blessed from the moment he was born. All in, he didn’t even need to remind himself as he helped you wash your hair, relishing in the smile on your face, one you gifted him with today and tomorrow and every day to come.

[tojisun]

[head in my hands] diabolical hockey au just hit me rn-

thinking about being the specgru’s head coach’s controversially young gf, and most of the team are fucking enamoured.

so taken by how you look that, sometimes, they’d chirp at their coach (it’s nikto.. i have been bewitched 😣) about how maybe they’d get to focus if he just brought around his little sweetheart and nikto stares at them with pursed lips and deadpanned eyes before making them run lines for hours.

but nikto’s… intrigued by this. because he is the first to say that yes, you are a doll. god, the prettiest of them all - he still doesn't understand why you even chose him but it's not like he'll let you go anymore, darling. not a chance.

but mactavish's chirp is still bright in his ears that nikto realizes that maybe, just maybe, he can indulge the boys a little bit.

just a smidge. not enough to actually give them a taste, but just a spark; light up that hunger they're feeling, and maybe nikto can even get a reward for himself. maybe they'd finally lockdown on that powerplay or even solidify their defense, but whatever it is, nikto's quite excited.

it's not often that the solution to your team is right there, in the palm of your hands.

.

in the next practice, nikto pretends that nothing's changed in the routine. the boys are still doing their stretches, with garrick leading them to it, and the assistant coaches are gearing up for diverse set of trainings. keller, for one, already's got the backup goalie with him while they set up drills for him and price.

the practice goes on, with nikto amping up the intensity just so the reward falls sweeter than it is, before winding them down for the natural break. nikto gets off the ice while the team makes a game out of gathering up the pucks to dump them back into the bin, and he watches, almost with anticipation, as time trickles.

then, the inevitable-

you, bounding in from the locker rooms at nikto's message, and the team's attention easily being snagged.

it started with johnny, elbowing riley, then it was everyone turning to watch as you walk towards him you don't even give the others a second glance, laser-focused only on him. on nikto.

look at you. a room full of men who wants you and all you care about is him.

nikto feels his gums throb with something like pride, and he doesn't even notice that he's began posturing too - back straightened as he rolls his shoulders and stands up straight.

"baby," you breathe out, giggly almost, as you fold yourself into his arms.

"kotenok," nikto rumbles out, pulling you impossibly closer. sure, half of it is for show, but the stronger half is thrumming with obsession. with possessiveness and desire. because the team doesn't need to chirp for nikto to know how perfect you are.

the team's gone all quiet and laughably docile, and nikto would tease. would chirp back just to see all of them grumble at the realization that nikto can bring you around all they want, it won't change the fact that you don't even care about them.

but you're already in his arms and they're looking on with vivid envy that nikto dismisses the idea and calls for the end of practice.

that doesn't stop the boys from flirting with you, apparently - johnny catches up with you on his way back to the lockers, chatting up about your dogs like they're not nikto's dogs too. simon's brooding, quiet as he shadows you and mactavish on the way back, and only pipes up when you turn to include him in, like you're truly his weakness.

price is more subtle - stealing your attention as he stands beside nikto, like he is truly challenging his coach for his coach's girlfriend. it sort of works too because you're vibrating from where you stand as you ask him about his recent shutout - against washington - all starry-eyed like the fan you are.

but garrick. nikto thinks he might just be the worst because it's him who has you acting all shy, your eyes flicking up to kyle's face before ducking down as you busy yourself with the zipper of your jacket like you couldn't handle prolonged eye contact. it's kyle who speaks to you with such quiet timbre that you're visibly quaking when he leaned forward to whisper directly into your ear after another stuttered, "huh?"

it's kyle who walks away first too, and the one that had you tripping on your feet as you subconsciously followed even when nikto's already waiting by the car.

damn it. maybe he'll make garrick do suicides tomorrow.

[4ngelfawn33]

Pairing Introduction🐑 Rafe x Lamb!Reader

The last pairing I'd like to introduce is Rafe and Lamb!Reader! An unsurprising couple but not everything is as it seems...

Rafe and Lamb have know each other their whole lives, wit Lamb's father being one of Wards closes business associates, it's safe to say Lamb and Rafe have interacted a fair bit. Despite growing around each other, they didn't really grow up with each other.

Lamb and Rafe we're apart of two different crowds, truly the only things that related them to each other was one -- They're both kooks, and two -- both their dads were wealthy businessmen. Lamb!Reader spent most of her time at home, buried nose deep in some sort of romance novel, at church, usually volunteering to watch the younger children while the services were going on, or at some posh country club event with her friends.

Rafe, on the other hand, spent his times at parties, doing and dealing coke, pissing off pouges, and hanging around the most annoyingly in sufferable people on the planet. None of which Lamb could relate to. Lamb!Reader knows Rafe Cameron is not a good person, and as long as she's cordial in business related situations, Lamb didn't have to pay any mind to Rafe.

When they do finally enter each others worlds, it's because Lamb got herself into trouble, and Rafe knows how to get out of trouble. All Lamb!Reader asked, more like begged, was for him to get rid of some creepy guy Lamb got herself caught up with, so he did. After that, Lamb started going to Rafe whenever she needed a problem fixed, which wasn't often, but still.

Lamb and Rafe's relationship quickly became one of exchange. When Rafe did something for her, she'd have to do something for him back. The only thing was, he slowly started asking her for favors that crossed many intimate boundaries and because of Lamb!Readers religious background, the only way for Rafe to get what he wanted was to become her boyfriend.

I think there's a lot of indifference in their relationship! Especially since it isn't one that's rooted in love, but I also don't think it's all bad. Lamb!Reader has a very big heart, so it's impossible for her not to care about Rafe, especially since he takes care of her. When Rafe comes back injured or coked out, sometimes both, she makes a genuine effort to take care of him. She even offers to take him to the church for help to get clean.

In a similar manner, Rafe also cares for Lamb in his own odd way. He of course spoils her endlessly, lavishing her in gifts she didn't even ask for, but I also think he attempts to be there physically for her. Rafe is not a very emotionally available person, so he attempts to join her in activities he doesn't even really care for himself. He'll go to church with her, go to afternoon tea events at the country club, take her to fancy book shops, and sets up fancy beach picnics for them..

Despite their unconventional relationship, the whole mutual exchange thing works well for them! They're both satisfied in the relationship so nothing else matters <3

[lumarhorrors]

Absolutely. M!reader deserves his Prince charming! It's gonna be lovey dovey!!

TW: SA MENTIONED

Cw: smut, attempted kidnapping/ success kidnapping

You had been working for Prince Casper for a few months now after escaping from Prince Roe and his horrible treatment. You were very cautious about working for Casper as you had no clue how he'd treat you but you were definitely shocked went he asked you to do reasonable things like bring his coffee or tea, help him with moving things or even keep him company while you cleaned his office. You'd come to realise Casper actually valued his servants and staff and treated them with respect which you didn't get with Prince Reo.

You were cleaning the windows in Casper's office as he sat at his desk reading. But he was mainly looking at you with a loving smile on his face, he'd always appreciated how you were always so attentive to everything you did. He came up behind and made you sit down saying you needed a break that you were working yourself too hard. You reluctantly agreed and sat down for a bit...until you got bored after 5 minutes and went back to work which Casper wasn't happy about. It was that day you realised he cared about you more that prince reo ever did.

He soon got closer to you. And finally demanded. As nicely as he could that you'd go on a date with him. You obviously said yes. You'd never reject someone as kind and loving as casper. So the two of you went on a simple picnic date in the gardens, it was beautiful. The flowers everywhere, Casper being so loving and warm to you....soon you we put as his personal maid. Then you were his boyfriend, then his fiancee and now his husband and second king of the kingdom next to him.

When Reo found out...Holy hell his kingdom heard all about it. He put serval bounties out for your kidnapping but failed either because you kicked ass or Casper was around or guards. He was mega pissed that he kidnapped you himself. He did whatever he wanted to you....you sobbed and pleaded for him to stop that you felt like you were betraying your husband...he didn't care. When casper stormed the casper and found him on top of you, your mouth gagged and your hands tied to the bed with reo onto of you fucking you....he saw red. He dragged reo off you, untied you and as you were getting dressed dragged the naked Prince out into Reo's kingdom's courtyard and beheaded him. And everyone was glad to be rid of that disgusting monster.

When casper brought you home he kissed you and cuddled you for days and gave you everything you needed to heal. It took awhile for the nightmares to stop but they did eventually.

And during that time casper let you fuck him to distract you and give you control of that sort of thing after what reo did. And you both liked it so much it became a sort of therapy for you. When you had bad or off days casper was their under his desk as you sat in his chair with him sloppily sucking your cock. Spit and cum dripping down his mouth and chin onto the soft red carpets. And you couldn't be more happier with your life.

I fucking did it!!! I finally finished it after 2 weeks and a half!!!!! I tagged it as Yandere as I want Casper to be one after he beheads Reo as he'd do anything for his husband even killing half the kingdom who wrongs him

[earlycuntsets]

"“I CONSIDERED MYSELF TO BE MORE OF A GIRL”

A CONVERSATION WITH GERARD WAY from theboyzine.com 1/18/2015

"Gerard way is the renaissance-type singer songwriter // Goth prince frontman // comic book artist // proud father best known for both his solo music and his band My Chemical Romance. We got a chance to ask him a few questions in early January. Enjoy!

What is your favorite animal?

I would have to say an ape; for a long time I didn’t take the time to know the difference between primates, but my wife and I have been really into animals—apes are just very gentle creatures.

As an emotional professional, how do you feel when people tell you to man up?

You know, growing up as a boy you are always told not to show your emotions, that it is a sign of weakness. I have been lucky enough to lead a life where I can celebrate how I really feel—but there is still negative attention towards it and it is still considered weakness.

Is there a point, then, where one does need to (for lack of a better word) man up?

You know I really don’t like that phrase. “man up”, because it implies that emotional strength in rough times is a masculine trait, when in reality some of the strongest people I know are women. But yes, there are a lot of times when you should control your emotions–  times of crisis and need where you really can’t let them get involved. I have learned to pull my emotions out of a lot of big decisions.

You often make it a point to spread the message of gender equality in your shows. Could you describe that a little bit?

It is something I have been lucky enough to be educated about. I generally try to pay attention to it, make sure I get my facts from the best sources and whatnot, and I really relate to it. I never really subscribed to the archetype masculinity growing up, I had no interest in sports or anything like that. There was a time where I was called a girl so often that when I discovered the idea of transgenderism I considered myself to be more of a girl. So I identify with trans people and women a lot because I was a girl to a lot of people growing up. When I was doing MCR I think I finally got to display my femininity through the glam theatrical aspects of the band. It made me feel more hopeful, that I was allowed to be flamboyant. I want to make sure women and men and everyone in between feel safe and empowered.

Was there a person or thing that first sparked your interest in feminism?

When I was around 16 I became friends with these really cool girls, and that’s how I got exposed to Bikini Kill, Helium, Bratmobile—that was the real punk. All the other hardcore scenes at the time were a little bit hypermasculine and violent, which was totally unappealing to me. But here are these bands—Bikini Kill, et cetera that were actually talking about important things. That was real punk. Great bands.

What sort of advice can you offer to all of us boyz reading?

You have to surround yourself with ‘the others’. Whether they’re the creatives that you know or whatever it is. Because you guys will feed each other, that’s the nature of people. Find companions who will push you in the field you are in.

Do you hang onto traces of boyishness? Comics and digging up worms?

Well first off I don’t consider those things boyish. I am really happy that things like comics have become less marketed specifically toward boys—did you know that 50 percent of comic book readers are girls now? There is a really great picture I saw one time of a little girl with all the spiderman toys in a toy store clearly angry that they were in the ‘boys’ section. We need to let kids have more freedom of choice in who they want to be.

But answering your question, I have always been super into comic books. I didn’t really ever like sports, so I played dungeons and dragons a lot. That was a really important creative outlet for me. Of course I still love Star wars, and biking.

How do you find ways to stay positive?

Society is so interconnected these days, there is so much noise. It is really important I think to turn the noise down, to find ways to do so. Whether you’re in a creative field or not, you need to find a way to follow what is in your gut because that noise that is so obstructive is   creeping. Think about the art you make, the people you love.

My routine is really simple but important to me. I wake up every morning and my wife and I get our daughter ready for school and I drive her there. And that’s when work begins for me. I am lucky that one day I can be recording a new song and the next I am putting all of my energy into a comic.

Do you consider your marriage to be a partnership?

I am very glad you asked. I consider my whole family dynamic a three way partnership actually. My wife and I have been partners since day one, and now our daughter is the newest addition to the mix. Of course we have different duties to each other—my wife and my job is to educate my daughter  and make her feel great and teach her how to work hard, to let her choose what she loves. That’s very important to us. It is great coming home from the road because Lindsay (my wife) and I get to work together more.

Thank you so much for doing this interview, is there anything we haven’t touched that you want to say?

Don’t chase your dreams, let your dreams chase you

[a-bit-too-critical]

Holy shit?!? I watched the newest ep thinking it would be crap that I wouldn’t care about at all (especially with stolASS in the thumbnail), BUT THAT WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF DECENT??? IM KINDA OBSESSED IN SOME WAYS (obviously minus the Stolitz crap but still 😭)

Spoilersss below ofc

STELLA IS BACK LETS FREAKING GOOOO!!!

I do think the fact she never even CONSIDERED reporting Stolas’ illegal grimore use is really stupid, it feels like Viv didn’t know what would cause the authorities to arrest Blitzø so she made some crap up 😭

Here’s a more fun idea: Stella saw Blitz fall out of a window that fateful day with the grimore, but always assumed Blitz stole it and Stolas got it back easily considering the whole hell hierarchy (IMPs are seen as useless and weak). During a recent visitation day with Octavia, she was plotting ways to get rid of Stolas, asked her, and Octavia spilled what’s ACTUALLY been going on, which she then passed onto Andrelphus. Not perfect but a bit better than what was shown here I’d say

…Also why does Andrelphus keep calling Stella hot?? That’s your sister bro?? Why not make him say “you’re lucky you’re powerful” or “you’re lucky you’ve got insight on Stolas’ current life” or even “you’re lucky you’re of use to me”?? But no, we got stuff that kinda sounds like incest 😭

Not bothering to add an image here but I love the interns, they’re probably there for a college requirement or something (assuming hell has an education system) and Blitz is just like “HELL YEAH FREE LABOR” (more proof that bro does not actually care about his workers, idc what the show wants you to believe lmao) (good to see they likely weren’t caught up in the arrest tho, probably let go after they explained their story thankfully)

Also Moxxie dear god I felt so bad for him, he was sobbing and looked genuinely distressed, especially after hearing “we are going to beat you”. He definitely has ptsd from his dad and he deserves so much better than Blitz as a boss /srs

I also felt pretty bad for Loona, she doesn’t even want to work at IMP and doesn’t give a crap about the Stolas drama yet is now being arrested over it. I’ll get into this more later but proof that hell doesn’t care about hellhounds and Imps!!

Back to Moxxie, Blitz stuffing paper in his mouth while he was clearly visibly distressed caused me to lose a piece of my soul (and we’re expected to laugh at it, as usual :/)

Haven’t mentioned Millie much here but that’s kinda because she knows what to do in this kind of situation? She’s a wrath imp, she’s not afraid to kill literally anybody to save her life. She knows how to hide evidence and fight as well. She is completely fine in this scenario and knows what to do (and is clearly shown to be staying mostly calm, unlike Moxxie or Loona).

SATAN!! THE DRAGON DESIGN FITS PERFECT FOR HIM!!! this is by far my 2nd favorite sin design (only behind Bee, unpopular opinion but I freaking love her design)!!! I also love how they gave him buff arms but skinny legs (as he’s likely punching, grabbing/choking, and stuff like that a lot, but is rarely kicking, jumping around (he can fly, no need), or even running that much)!

ALSO LEVIATHAN AND BELPHAGOR!!! Belphagor fits pretty dang well imo, though I with they’d made her a bit more “plush like” to represent a sort of laziness and preference of sleeping instead of waking. Not sure how to feel about Leviathan just yet, I like the 2 head approach but the left head is just a copy paste Glitz or Glam 😭

AND BEEEEEE MY GIRL IS BACK!!! SO NICE TO HEAR HER TALK AGAIN AND HER NEW OUTFIT LOOKS SO FREAKING GOOD ON HER!!!

Alsooo I love that Moxxie has finally had enough of his boss!! He fought against his crappy defense of “attempting a crime isn’t illegal” instead of blindly defending him. You go Moxxie!!!

Anddd Andrelphus once again says his sister is hot FOR NO GOD DAMN REASON, Bee and Ozzie look rightfully disgusted though so at least it’s being portrayed as a negative thing 💀

AND VASSAGO ACTUALLY SPEAKING FULL SPANISH SENTENCES ON SCREEN WITHOUT UNNECESSARY SUBTITLES TRANSLATING HIM??? HOLY CRAP?? ITS A SMALL VICTORY BUT IM TAKING IT!!

Hey so what the hell

THIS MAN GOT HIS EYE FREAKING EXPLODED AND HE COMES OUT OF IT WITH THAT??? THATS IT?!? THATS BARELY EVEN VISIBLE WHAT THE HELL??

HIS EYESIGHT IN THAT EYE SHOULD BE AT THE VERY LEAST WEAKENED IF NOT COMPLETELY BLINDED, AND AT LEAST SOME OF HIS FACE SHOULD BE FREAKING MELTED OR CLEARLY BURNED. VIV, MAYBE TAKE SOME NOTES FROM QUEEN SCARLET FROM WINGS OF FIRE, BECAUSE EVEN THAT KIDS BOOK SERIES SHOWED HER FACE MELTED AFTER INJURY

Ughhh sorry, that one just really infuriated me :(

Ok this one might get a bit headcanon-ish since I selfship with Bee, but they mischaracterized the living hell out of her 😭

No surprise she tries to defend Blitz of course, as far as she can see that’s the father of Loona. But here’s my thing: WHY DOES SHE NOT EVEN TRY TO DEFEND LOONA??? HER BOYFRIEND’S LIKELY BEST FRIEND AND HER SELF DESCRIBED “FAVORITE PERSON”?? UGHHHHH SHE WOULD NOT DO THAT. NUH UH, SHE’S FIESTY AND WOULDNT HESITATE TO DEFEND OR SAVE SOMEONE OF HER OWN, MARGINALIZED KIND. I MEAN SHE LITERALLY INSULTED AND THREW A PENIS-POPSICLE AT MAMMON IN FRONT OF ALL THE OTHER SINS, AND SHE CLEARLY DOESNT THINK TWICE ABOUT IT. DEAR FREAKING GOD SHE WOULD DO SOMETHING-

In short, Bee would not freaking do this. Continue.

We haven’t got to this part of the ep yet so I’ll talk about it more later, BUT THEY ACTUALLY HAVE GONE BACK TO THE WHOLE CLASSISM DISCUSSION!!! FINALLY!!! Satan calls Blitz an “Imp bastard” that they can just kill and not care about, and nearly everyone agrees. With Stolas later however, that is NOT the case. I hate the classism but I love the discussion of why is so screwed up. Beautiful.

Ozzie looking up from his phone was freaking heartbreaking as well. He clearly cares about Fizz to a straight up unhealthy degree and would do anything for him (Codependency), but he knows he can’t do anything here. I think the same goes for Bee at this point, earlier she could’ve stood up and fought but now any bite-back would get her head cut off, especially considering how she is likely viewed for dating a hellhound and how Ozzie is viewed for dating an Imp.

AND BLITZ’S SPEECH?!? IM SORRY BUT IVE GOTTA RECORD THIS ONE ITS JUST TOO PERFECT, THIS IS WHAG THE SHOW SHOULDVE BEEN ABOUT AND THE PATH IT FOLLOWED.

(Ignore my friend yapping about TADC in the discord group 😭)

THIS IS ACTUALLY BEAUTIFUL. AND YKNOW WHAT THIS SHOULDVE BEEN? THE FINALE. THE END. THERE SHOULDVE BEEN NO STOLAS TO SAVE HIM. WHY, JUST WHY COULDNT THIS SHOW HAVE BEEN ABOUT MISSIONS WITH SLOWLY MORE DRAMA AND EVENTUALLY THIS, AND SINCE BLITZ HAS NO RELATIONS WITH THE POWERFUL… he just dies. It would show that, in a society so royally screwed up by this level of classism, they wouldn’t have cared. Our main guy is just some random Imp to them. Blitz never supported the rich, and for that, he died. Now THAT would’ve been a dark yet amazing commentary. But this is Viv so that’ll never happen 😭

Also this is nitpicky but the ass joke with Stolas is just so tonally dissonant, like this is a very serious and celebratory moment that shouldn’t have a stupid joke in it…

ALSO GOD DAMN IT NO NO NO MORE STOLITZZZ 😭

I am never, ever getting over the fact the actually successfully made an “in the only way I know how to… SONG” joke, it’s freaking amazing

Anyway, not going super in depth in this song but STOLITZ DOES NOT DESERVE THIS BOP OMGGG GIVE THIS TO ANOTHER SHIP PLEASE 😭

and of course Stolas called Blitz a worm and a bunch of other derogatory stuff as per usual, sureee you don’t look down on him bucko :/

GANG. WE WON. I DONT CARE IF STELLA GAVE AN EVIL SMILE AFTER THIS, THIS IS THE SWEETEST MOMENT IN THE SHOW. I KNOW STELLA WILL BE A BETTER MOTHER THAN STOLAS, AND I HOPE THE SHOW PORTRAYS HER AS ONE. ALL I KNOW IS THAT STELLA DOES CARE FOR OCTAVIA, BUT LET HER HATRED OF STOLAS GET IN THE WAY OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Now that there’s no Stolas… they can have an actually good life. Now Viv, you know you screwed up when your “bad ending” over here is actually the best possible outcome.

OK NOW UH

“You’re demon royalty!! Soooo your life has actual worth!”

THE CLASSISM HOLY HELL, I NEED MORE OF THIS. THIS!! THE THING THE SHOW WAS ACTUALLY MEANT TO COMMENTATE ON!!! HELL DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYONE WHO IS NOT ROYAL, NO MATTER HOW SUCCESSFUL THEY ARE. THEY SEE THEM AS PAWNS FOR THE ROYALTY AND HIGHER UPS TO USE.

THIS PUNISHMENT FOR STOLAS WAS ACTUALLY THE BEST WE COULDVE EVER GOTTEN. BECAUSE HE FREAKING DESERVES IT. HE ABUSED THE LOWER CLASS (Blitz) FOR HIS OWN GAIN TO THE POINT OF CHEATING ON HIS OWN WIFE AND NEGLECTING HIS DAUGHTER, PLUS IGNORING EVERY ASPECT OF HIS LIFE EXCEPT HIS LITTLE PAWN TO ABUSE. AND NOW HIS IS THE PAWN, NOW HE HAS TO SEE THE CLASSISM IN ACTION. HELL. YES. Albeit I wish Blitz would throw him out on the street to freaking die but oh well, Viv needs her stupid Stolitz :/

AND THIS. YALL DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW SATISFYING THIS WAS. Blitz managed to fight against classism in a court and show so much support for Impkind, something he should be celebrated for. And Stolas abused said impkind, so should be hated on. Simple as that. Finally the god dang tables have turned and I could not be more pleased.

And even though I’m not a fan of Loona still loving Blitz so deeply despite all the crap he puts her and the others through, I loved seeing Stolas look so horrified. It’s almost like he’s realizing his daughter never freaking says that. It’s almost like he’s realizing he was a god awful father. Took ya long enough.

ALSO I SAW A TEXT ON BLITZ’S PHONE ASKING IF HE ONLY HIRES IMPS??? I THINK HE MIGHT ACTUALLY BE CHALLENGING THE CLASS SYSTEM HERE AND BRINGING DOWN THE HIERARCHY A BIT!!! THE CLASSISM COMMENTARY MIGHT ACTUALLY BE PERMANENTLY BACK HOLY CRAP!!!

I’m not even gonna talk about the Stolitz at the end 💀

But Blitz deserves those fireworks!!! He’s not perfect by any means and his previous abusive actions toward his crew should NOT BE EXCUSED, but what he did here is amazing and should be celebrated. Love to see it

Overall rating: 9/10!!

Pros: Classism commentary, Stella gets custody of Octavia and Andrelphus gets Stolas’ position, Stolas gets what he deserves, Satan has an epic design. Also some higher quality animation!

Cons: Stolitz, Moxxie abuse played for laughs, mischaracterization of Bee