#he makes that choice. and he sticks to it. there’s got to have been easier things to have done throughout history but no.

[oh2e]

I’m reading Good Omens again and thinking about how Crowley and Aziraphale aren’t really men and aren’t really humans etc. Then I started thinking about the sentiment that even if being queer was a choice, people would still choose to be queer and how Aziraphale choses to appear as a gay man. He choses to be the kind of person who gets called “the southern pansy”. That’s a choice that he made.

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.5)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 -> Pt.6

m.list

You woke up with a headache. You barely even drink last night, but somehow, the interaction with a certain one got you all pented up that now you were struggling with a giant migraine.

Sundays were always slow. You used them to complete your homework, and then in the afternoon, you had a mandatory dinner with Aizawa and Eri in his apartment. You talked about eachothers lives and then sometimes watched a movie together. It was really nice, especially when the idea came right from Aizawa's mind in a form to create a safe and familiar space to Eri, which you were happy to comply with.

On Monday, your headache was light. It was a pulsating little tingle in your head, completely bearable.

The first class was slow. You caught yourself falling asleep multiple times, but hopefully, no one saw you.

After the party, you made your routine on speaking your head off to Jirou about what happened. You two got into the conclusion that it was a delusional event that helped out Bakugo keep his mind in peace.

It was easier to pretend that that was his intention than twirling your brain into finding out the real purpose of your interaction with him.

The sound of your stomach growling startled you out of your head. You were sitting in the sun enjoying the rays in your face when you checked the clock for the obvious. Lunch break.

You hated making the line to get lunch, so Aizawa packed you a bento with some things he found at home. He was a man in charge of a little girl, but it didn't mean that he was actually good at cooking. He had some dishes where he showed all his talent, but others, you could see little Eri gagging because of the burnt rice and steamed vegetables that looked like a pulp.

You entered the lunch zone full of big white tables and uncomfortable chairs. It's was more crowded than usual, so you had to put yourself on the tip of your toes to find Jirou and Denki.

Scanning the room, above all the heads and trying to difuse the laughs and peoples screaming from one table to another, you didn't find a trace of your friends.

"You look like a deer struck by light." Bakugo's hand was wrapped firmly in your shoulder lowering your body to the ground. "Sit with us"

That was him in real life. A silence sneaky bastard you didn't see coming.

You didn't have a choice, so you followed him through the crowd until you two made it to the table where his friends waved you happily of seeing you with them.

They didn't mind your presence at all. With years of friendship with Bakugo, they have learned no to question his outbursts or his decisions. Having you around was weird in a way that he never ever had been interested in someone, and now they have started to get used to you because he always made the effort to find you and bring you with him. You thought that no one saw him going to the kitchen where you entered a minute before? His friends had eyes on their backs. They, of course, saw this coming.

"I don't know if I'm going to stick around. My friends must be somewhere here..." You said, glancing away, trying to find the yellow spiky hair of your friend. You had to thank him because his extravagant hair was going to be your salvation.

"Let them be, stop third-wheeling them. It's annoying, " he rolled his eyes and took your bento from your hands to settle it on the table.

You were almost embarrassed for his comment, but everyone were minding their own business, leaving you like a stray castaway with Bakugo.

Sighing, you took your seat beside Sero and in front of Bakugo, who was inspecting you carefully. You tried not to sink in your seat and opened your bento. Burnt rice with poorly steamed vegetables. You hated veggies.

The feeling must've shown in your face because Bakugo was fast enough to exchange his food with yours. No questions asked. He didn't have a clue of what pushed him to do that, but just for the sake of it, he needed to look nonchalant to you to keep going the game he had in mind.

"What? No, give that back. " You started to throw your arm to grab your lunch, but he effortlessly dodged it.

"Shut up, that's what friends do." he pinched one of the languid carrots and ate it without even flinching. You tried with all your heart to not gag at the sight of that.

Friends. That's right.

The fact of him addressing what happened the other night caught you by surprise. You convinced yourself that it was with the main purpose of keeping his mind at ease. It seemed like you were wrong. It seemed like he actually meant it.

The table was in silence. Bakugo's bento was unopened in front of you, and he looked at you like you were dumb or something. You glanced at his friend casually chatting about some class, Mina watching tiktoks and moving his hands with the rhythm of some trend while you felt so out of place. You missed sassy Jirou and even the nonsense spurting out of Denki's mouth.

"Are you going to eat or what?" He was losing his patience. Don't you dare make the king mad.

You opened the bento, and the scent of his food invaded your nose. It was spicy ramen, one of your favorite. The smell of the soup prickled your nose and watered your eyes. You couldn't wait to have a spoon of that in your mouth.

Bakugo observed the change in your face and felt something flourishing inside of him. Pride.

The way your cheeks regained color after sipping the soup and how you almost moaned because of the taste made his chest puff.

You looked at him with your mouth full and smiled at him with your lips sealed shining with the oil remaining in the spoon.

His heart took a leap.

"How's that?" he quirked a brow, and you rolled your eyes still smiling.

Cocky bastard, he knew he could cook. He didn't need another one praising one of his multiple abilities.

"It's good," you said, shrugging downplaying the fact that he could actually cook.

The different combination of spices melting in your mouth with the ramen left a tingling feeling in your tongue. It was a funny feeling that complemented Bakugo, crossing his arms on top of his chest and looking at you with sufficiency.

"Are you going to judge my food now? I know it's not good enough for your expectations"

Mentally, you thought that if he said something about it, you would pull the Aizawa card from your sleeve to make him look like an idiot. Who were you fooling? The man in front of you didn't know anything about shame nor sucking superior's dick. If he needed to say something, he would say it without caring about the who.

He was about to open his mouth to give you his constructive opinion about your bad excuse of lunch when the haze of mismatched eyes caught all your attention in the corner of your eyes. Todoroki.

The memory of him apologizing for Bakugo's behavior was a current thought in your brain since that night. It wasn't because of his mysterious aura or the trouble in his family that attracted you to him. It was what you could see behind those eyes, loneliness, and hell you knew about that.

His body language, always stiff and clueless, motivated you to know more about him. He needed a wire to the ground, someone to show him the things that he had lost because of his childhood. You missed a lot of things in life, too, but you were determined to pivot the destiny. You wanted the best for him, too.

"Close your mouth. You are drooling on the table," he mumbled, clearly pissed.

Bakugo snapped out of your trance. You were watching Todoroki walking in the room until he left. You needed to catch him.

"I'm sorry I'll be right back"

You left him. The man who shared, not, gave you his lunch. You left him hanging to sprint to another guy.

Your conscience didn't put any thought of if in your mind until it was too late.

"Todoroki," you grabbed him by his wrist, gaining his attention.

Even though it was out of character for you to chase a man, and before the party, you two haven't talked, there was some sort of connection you couldn't decipher. He smiled at the sight of you.

"Hey, are you okay? Your cheeks are red. " he pointed at your face with a puzzled look.

"Yeah, I was eating something steamy, and then I ran here so..." you said out of breath.

Catching him was a short sprint, but it left your lungs burning for the sudden movement.

"I-" you cleared your throat. "I'm here to apologize for the other night. He was so rude with you, apparently with no reason"

The last thing you need in your life. Apologizing to people on Bakugo's behalf.

"He told you to apologize?" He asked, knitting his brows together. You shook your head. "Then there's nothing to apologize for, at least you don't have to"

"I was really hoping to have a good night and the Cosmopolitan? It was delicious, I didn't get the chance to thank you, it was so sudden"

He scratched his neck and suddenly smirked.

"Yeah, I was hoping on catching up with you too"

If the red in your face was a statement made before, now it was permanent. You never said that, but it was like he read your mind. You were careful with your words, and even though you wanted to tell him that, you didn't have the guts.

"Maybe we should hang out, I mean...eventually?" You were a nervous wreck being so forward with your intentions.

You didn't have any romantic expectations with him, but you couldn't blame the silly romantic girl who believed in love and enjoyed corny movies inside of you for picturing a date with him.

"Yeah, are you free this friday?" He said bluntly without any pinch of shame.

You weren't expecting it to be so soon, but your mind didn't connect with your body before your head was nodding with excitement.

You exchanged your numbers to set the time of your whatever that was going to be.

You would be completely lying if you said you didn't feel nothing about it. It was a weird feeling, like excitement combined with anxiety. You came just to apologize and left with a date under your arm.

Five days were more than enough to find an outfit, a possible place, and, of course, something to do. Drinking? Bowling? Movies? The options were endless.

You were high on your cloud when you remembered where you were before that. You couldn't help but feel like floating back to the table. You wouldn't be capable to hide your smile or the redness in your cheeks. You wanted to giggle like a little girl just by the memory of what happened.

The sudden wave of euphoria disappeared in the moment you got to the table, and only Kirishima was there looking at his phone mindlessly.

The remorse was bigger than the feeling you had just a mere second ago.

"Where did he go?" You asked his friend, and he gave you a sad smile.

"He left a while ago. He murmured something under his breath and left you this," Kirishima said, grabbing his things and leaving Bakugo's bento on the table with yours on top of it. "He said something that you didn't end your meal I don't know"

Kirishima scratched the back of his neck and the waved you goodbye.

You standed there feeling like the worse person of all world while eveyone kept eating their lunch.

You needed to revert the situation.

In your afternoon classes, you didn't see him or his friends. It was weird because they were always around laughing and throwing jokes when Denki joined them.

In your last period, Jirou found you biting your nails at the end of the classroom.

"What's going on in that little head of yours?" she threw his books on top of the desk next to yours and collapsed on her seat. "Where did you go at lunchtime? Aizawa hauled you again?"

You denied with a sad face. You weren't even trying to hide your feelings that were completely mixed. You were enthusiastic because of the date, but for one reason or another, the remorse of leaving Bakugo after what he did, it was like a kick in the guts. You felt completely rachet.

"I was with Bakugo," the little you blurted was enough for Jirou to have her jaw to the floor.

"Did you two...again?" She didn't have to say the word that she was implying.

"God no." You shook your head and played with your pen. "We just sat together with his friends and then Todoroki appeared out of nothing and I ran after him, he asked me on a date and then when I came back to the table Bakugo was nowhere to be seen"

The transitions between Jirou faces were something you would tease her about it if you weren't so confused about your emotions.

"Why are you sad then? Todoroki asked you out! That's a good thing. There's no way Bakugo walking out is worth the downfall of your euphoric state"

You bended over your seat to grab his bento and yours from your backpack, and then you piled them it in front of Jirou

"What's that?" She quirked a brow separating the tupperwares. You sighed. "I can't read minds babe"

"That's mine, and that's his," you pointed them with sorrow.

"Girl, you need to be more specific," she asked, looking serious.

"He switched his lunch with mine because I didn't like mine, and then, after I chase Todoroki, he left me his because I hadn't finished yet" you grunted putting your head between your hands. "Now I have two empty containers with the remains of me being a shitty person"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." Jirou placed her hand on your back and rubbed it for a while. "It's just a lunch, don't let the drama overwhelme you"

"It was Aizawa burnt rice and steamed veggies," you took a peak at her between your hands.

"And he finished it???" She grabbed the bento and examined it. "Ick, gross." She gagged. That didn't make any better to your state.

"What am I going to do" you asked.

Something about Bakugo eating your lunch, knowing what it was changed Jirou's mind about him being completely worthless. It took guts to eat that, even Denki, who could eat from a dumpster, threw up after tasting the vegetables.

"I think you need to...I don't know if apologize is the right word? But maybe make it up to him, " she said, patting your head.

She was right, and even though you tried to escape that, it wasn't a lie that you thought of it before Jirou statement. You just needed the reassurance, and maybe, just maybe, a way out that's wasn't going to come soon.

The last period ended. You focused on mainting your attention to everything present mic yelled in his english class. He always left you with a headache, but this time, where your mind was divided by the class and Bakugo, you didn't end up with any head related pain.

After leaving your things in your dorm and going to the bathroom for a quick refresh, you made your way to the boys' building. The boys' building was separated from the girls' building just by a street, which was very convenient. It was like we want you to be safe and make good decisions, but also, you're old enough to have sex and get freaky.

You would think that the concept of having a roommate made it hard to have intercourse but it didn't. Well, if you were lucky enough to have a decent roommate. When Jirou wanted time alone with Denki, you were more than happy to go downtown for a quick shopping spree or to the supermarket just to give them some time. Jirou did the same for you when you solicited privacy.

Denki was kind enough to give you Bakugo's floor and room by text. He kept messaging you for the gossip, but you put your phone in silence just to ignore him. Jirou would give him the details.

The looks on the boys that were there were nothing but oblivious. They didn't mind having your or any girl around. In fact, they looked at you, no, sided eyed you, like you were just one of the numerous girls that dropped by the building.

The building was exactly the same model as yours. The stairs were located on the same spot, and the number of floors was the same as yours. You could practically suit yourself pretty well if there weren't for the smell and the tall guys that looked at you weirdly but not minding you at all.

Once you stopped by his door, you had to take a long breath before knocking. Here you were, demolishing every plan you had about him. The main plan was ignoring him, but there you were knocking at his door, with his clean bento and some homemade cookies you found at the cafeteria. Was it enough to show that you were actually sorry?

That question pawned your soul. Were you actually sorry, or did you just wanted to forget the event and come clean with him to fully enjoy your date with Todoroki? Didn't that make you a bad person after all?

Saying sorry just to wash away your guilt and move on to the next while keeping in the tab the main plan of ignoring him?

Why did he have to be so stubborn with you? Why was it so hard to forget the fact that you had sex with him and move on with his life like he actually did with the other girls?

You were paying off some karma's debt or something. Why you? Jirou and Denki said once that it was fun to rile you up, but that was after solid three years of friendship, not two weeks after you knew each other.

The soft sound of your knuckles against the door echoed in the empty hallway. You were crossing your fingers for him not to be inside of his room, but once again, the world was against you.

He opened the door, sweating like a pig. Tiny drops of sweat gathered in the line of his hair just above his forehead. He didn't hide the anger when he saw you in front of him. The muscles in his body plastered against his black tank top made you feel like you were shrinking more and more under his stare.

"What are you doing here?" He was quick to ask with a disgusted facade.

You knew that he was rough, like in every sense of the word. He was rough when he talked. He was rough when he walked. He was rough when he trained, and he was rough in bed. You tried to forget the last part, but your intrusive thought never let that down.

Anyway, he was rough, but that day, in lunch break, you could swear that you saw a little bit of softness when he watched you eat his food, just a peak of it. Now, that was gone, and it was your fault.

"I'm here to give you your bento back." You extended the tupperware, and he accepted it with caution that his fingers didn't touch yours.

"That's it?" He looked at the container in his hands, purposely avoiding your eyes.

"No"

It was one word, but that caught his attention instantly.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry I left you today. It was so rude doing that after you were nice to me. " Hardly ever, you had to apologize for something, so you sucked at it.

You only had a grunt in return.

"And I also have some 'I'm so sorry' cookies for you." You grabbed a transparent bag and waved it in front of his face.

The way he rolled his eyes at the sight of it made you smile. He was crumbling in front of your eyes.

"Come in loser," he turned around and left the door open, expecting you to get in with him. It wasn't part of your plan, but it was the least you could do. After all, you were friends, right?

You closed the door behind you and observed your surroundings. You've been there before but it was dark and you were seeing double so it didn't count.

It was a pretty Bakugo room. A couple of band posters, a ton of books, gym equipment, and a pc gamer. Super boyish.

"You don't have a roommate?" You pointed towards one of the room's corners where should be a second bed.

He wanted to make a joke about how good you were faking dementia but he just shook his head instead.

"A dropout"

You were pacing in his room, looking at everything and touching it if it caught your attention. Bakugo was tucking his gym equipment away while you snooped every inch of his dorm.

The man was there, looking smoking hot after steamy training, but the smell in his room didn't show it.

"Do you have those electric pots where you can prepare meals here? It smells like burnt caramel, " you asked, scrunching your nose.

If someone paid Bakugo for every person who asked that before, he would be a millionaire. At first, the mere question embarrassed him a little, but now he was used to it.

"It's my sweat because of my quirk," he said with raspy voice.

The realization hit you hard. That smell was the one you remember from that night impregned in your clothes. It made sense, actually.

Bakugo found it hard to believe that you hadn't realized before. You were smart, smarter than half of the school, but he couldn't blame you. After all, you never have ever shared a class.

"So...are we going to play 10 questions or what?" You asked, suiting yourself in his gamer chair. It was really comfy with little pillows on the head that you couldn't reach and in your lower back.

"Tch, no, why?" You rolled your eyes at his answer. He was sitting in his bed doing absolutely nothing. What a lame fucker.

"How are we supposed to be friends if we know nothing about each other?" you stated, marking the obvious. "Ok, who's first"

"Like hell, I'm going to play a stupid game with you." he crossed his arms on top of his broad chest, and that little movement lifted his tank top, giving you a subtle look of his abs. You needed to remain composed for the sake of you.

"How boring! I'll start then. " You were thinking a good question and something to get on his nerves. "What's your favorite color?"

"Basic ass question, red," he snorted but followed along.

"Your turn," you urged him to keep going.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" He scolded you sighing and grabbing his head in his hands just to lay flat on his bed waiting for you to magically disappear.

"Because I learned how to talk, my turn"

It wasn't funny doing this without looking at his face. You found that the way his brows knitted together or the way his forehead wrinkled in exasperation was the main entertainment for you.

"How did you learn how to cook?"

You really wanted to know this, but putting a real question in between a dumb one was a power move. Well, that's what you thought.

"My dad taught me, and I continued improving my skills watching videos and practicing dishes"

You standed from your seat and walked straight to his bed. Folding a leg under your butt you sat beside him. He had his eyes closed, but the sudden sinking of his bed made him snap his eyes wide open.

The sight of you against the light of the window had him staring a little too much. You were analyzing him as well, but with another reason, you wanted to see if he was messing with you or if he actually excelled in something else than grades and training.

"My turn," he diverted your attention. "Where did you learn to ruin the fucking rice and the vegetables?"

"That's a trap. You can't copy my question!" You smacked his arm and he smirked.

"I didn't copy you" he mumbled closing his eyes again.

"You just changed a few words to make it look like it wasn't the same" you huffed and leaned against his bed pillow. "Fine, I let it slip only because I'm actually a good cooker"

"Yeah sure" he added sarcastically.

"I am" you whined. "That excuse of lunch was made by Aizawa, he's a great cooker too but that specific plate is not his strong point"

The day you told him that Aizawa was your guardian, he was impressed. He had never seen you with him before, but the fact that he packed you a lunch was a strong sign that you were close.

"Text me if Aizawa plans to give you that again," he said, opening his eyes again just to look at your reaction.

"Why?" Again, you were smart, but sometimes the kindness in humanity caught you unprepared. Mostly if the kind act was made by Bakugo himself.

"Rat poison is better than that. I'll bring you something to eat so you don't die"

The way he insinuated the most caring thing in the world, making you all flustered in your seat and then instantly went back to his obnoxious state, made you squeak internally. What was happening? Everybody knew the tales of Bakugo being a pain in the ass as a person with everyone except for his friends. It seemed you were one of them now because you were more than surprised to witnessed this change of demeanor in him.

"Your turn dumbass"

From princess to dumbass? You were making progress.

End note:

big bulky handsome Bakugo has a soft spot for reader? Of course he has. That's what the story is about. It seems that they reached a concensus for now, but how is Bakugo going to react when he finds out that reader has a date with Todoroki?? We will see...

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

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[maiiuelle]

˚❀˚

as we all know, jj is not a fan of cops. so, you can imagine how angry he’d be getting a call that you’re locked up.

it's sort of a game of telephone actually. you called kiara from the jail, pleading with her not to tell jj knowing how he'd react. but, with her parents grounding her from any more involvement in pogue business, she didn't really have a choice. so, she told pope, who immediately told jj.

luckily, your offense wasn't serious, you'd been having a bad day already and decided to go on an innocent bike ride. jj was kind enough to have slipped a joint into your backpack for an occasion like this, which you happily lit up to get your mind off of everything. your mistake was riding through the rich side of the island, some kook must've seen you and called the station to complain about who-knows-what, and the smell of weed sticking to your skin made it easier for shoupe to find you. you complied, letting him haul you in the back of his cruiser while he lectured you about drug possession and public intoxication. must be a slow day.

now you're sat in the lobby of the police station, hands bound together in metal cuffs, resting in your lap. you're barely high anymore, the light feeling in your head replaced by irritation. you hear jj before you see him, and the sound of his booming voice makes your heart sink.

"where d'ya even have her? huh, plumb?" you squeeze your eyes shut, the heat of his anger growing closer and closer.

"you need to relax, maybank." she hisses, rounding the corner before him and stopping at the sight of you. she crosses her arms, almost amused. "she's right here."

your blonde boyfriend stomps in after her, wide eyes searching the room before landing on you. he's disheveled, clearly having been in a rush to get here. you don't know what to do other than to stare back at him doe eyed. deputy plumb comes to your side and hoists you to stand with a hand on your arm, spinning you roughly so she can start to unlock the cuffs.

“alright—let’s make this quick.” shoupe’s voice draws everyone’s attention, a stack of papers in his hands that he offers to jj. “i’m doin’ her a favor, just a written warning.”

jj snatches the papers from him, superficially looking them over and then using them to point at the deputy. “you’re outta your mind, shoupe. i can’t believe—“

“i suggest—“ shoupe cuts him off, and jj’s jaw clenches. “—you kids get on home now. we’ve got some real work to do.”

deputy plumb lets you go, clipping the cuffs to her belt and nudging you toward jj. “and keep the dope on the cut.” you look back at her, keeping your mouth shut as you slink over to jj’s side.

“can count on kildare P.D., ain’t that right?” jj keeps his eyes on the officers, face red with anger as he adjusts his hat and starts walking toward the door. you stick close to him, feeling better attached to his side even if he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “pickin’ on teenage girls — real tough, shoupe. pretty sure y’all got bigger fish to fry, maybe focus on that.”

on the way out of the station, he’s silent. he doesn’t look at you or say a word until you reach the twinkie, where john b is sitting patiently in the driver’s seat. you feel real bad now, realizing you brought everyone into this mess that you could have easily avoided. jj stops at the front of the van, and you follow suit, anxiously biting your lip.

“jayj, i really didn’t mean to cause a whole—“

“nobody’s upset, sugar. relax.” he takes a second to look you over, running his hands down your arms and scanning over your body. “didn’t rough you up in there, did they?”

you shake your head. “oh, no. i’m fine.”

“good.” he brushes your hair over your shoulder, letting his hand linger by your jaw to pull you into a kiss. “least y’got a little street cred now, huh?” his calloused thumb rubs across your cheek, and a warm smile spreads across his face. you’re relieved, in the end really grateful that your boyfriend came to save the day.

˚❀˚

[aliceramblez]

BroZone Brothers With An Insecure S/O 😔💗

Tags: GN! Reader, Self-Deprecating Jokes, Low Self-Esteem, Abandonment Issues, Slight Body Insecurities. Fluff/Comfort.

A/N: Here we go with our first request! I really liked this idea as someone who has low self-esteem, and honestly it goes to all of y'all who think you're not good enough— cause you are! Also sorry it took a bit! I've been sick because the universe hates me 🙃

Feel free to leave a request & hope you enjoy! ^^

John Dory

At first, he doesn't really know what to make of it.

He finds it a bit strange, but doesn't question your odd sense of humor, and will sometimes even join in on the joke by saying stuff about himself, thinking it's some sort of inside thing between the two of you.

“Man, I can't believe I'm so clingy, sorry! Feel free to use me as a bad example, at least that way I won't be totally useless, haha!”

“Ha! You think that's bad? Babe, you haven't even seen me when I'm up at night just staring at the ceiling contemplating my life choices.”

It isn't until getting a good smack from Bruce and Floyd that he realizes you're actually being serious. And the prospect of that kinda puzzles him, not gonna lie.

“Look at you, tiger! Got yourself plenty of groupies already— Not surprising honestly. Don't have to worry about backups when you decide you're ready to move on, either!”

After a performance at the Pop Troll village, everyone is gushing over BroZone because of course they are. JD only barely manages to squeeze past the number of fans to get to you on the other side of the podium.

The oldest sibling looks at you in shock, and has to get closer to make sure he heard you right. “Babe, why would you say that?”

Caught off guard, you manage a nervous chuckle as you play with your hair. “I-I mean... Wow, would you look at the time! We gotta meet with Poppy and the others!”

John Dory stops you on your tracks and demands an explanation, which isn't really good for your poor heart. All you can do is kick the dirt and avoid his gaze, since that makes what you're about to say much easier to voice aloud.

“I mean... You're John Dory. You could date any troll you wanted and yet you're sticking with me. It honestly feels like a dream sometimes... And I'm scared of the day you realize you can do WAY better and decide to leave me.”

After processing this, he immediately holds your face in his hands and gives you the most serious expression you've ever seen on him. “I don't want just any random troll... I want you. You're my number one fan, and I'm yours, so don't even think about stuff like that, okay?”

After the exchange, he's always on the lookout for whenever your bad habit wants to kick in again and is ready to stop it ASAP

Spruce/Bruce

He notices it happens mostly when you're working at the cantina.

Whenever you get an order wrong, trip over your own feet or don't remember how to work one of the machines properly, you'll go into an awkward insecure flight response.

You'll say “Oops! Sorry! Clumsy Twinkle Toes, coming through!” while grinning and laughing along with the customers, but Bruce knows that it's affecting you more than you lead on.

It also happens whenever BroZone is getting ready to perform and you don't know what to do with yourself since you're “standing in the way”, despite being told multiple times that it's okay for you to be backstage with everyone else.

When he talks to you about it, you get really uncomfortable and just say that it's no big deal and that you can handle it.

“I've always been a clumsy person, so I guess that's always making me doubt myself over the smallest of things... Sorry if it's annoying.”

Bruce will then proceed to give you a huge warm hug and a kiss on the forehead as he whispers comforting words into your ear.

“Hey, I can be clumsy too! I've always been the worst out of everyone when it comes to choreography. Don't tell JD though, cause I know he'll throw a fit knowing I don't practice.”

He'll throw in other examples that may seem inconsequential to you, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless and smile and giggle through the embarrassing stories he shares.

He helps you get more confident by being there with you while taking orders at the cantina and praising you whenever you get something right— albeit in private as to not embarrass you.

Same goes with rehearsals, where he WILL drag you into the lounge area to hang with his brothers and/or Poppy and Viva when they decide to visit, too.

Overall he wants what's best for you and will try and push you out of your comfort zone, but only in a safe environment where he knows that if something does go wrong, it won't be as catastrophic as you make it out to be in your head.

You never stop thanking him for being your crutch during these times.

Clay

The moment he hears the words come out of your mouth he's completely flabbergasted.

First of all, who said those things to you? Because he swears he just wants to talk to them—

It's at a sleepover with his brothers and the gals at the Bergen Golf Course, and among the many games, snacks and movies watched, pictures are also taken.

As soon as you take a look at the array of selfies, you let out what sounds like a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

“I mean, at least it stays consistent— in photos, I look ugly. And in real life, I'm also ugly!”

As soon as those words leave your lips, Clay is at your side with an almost unreadable expression, only to snatch one of the photos from your hands. “How DARE you say that about the most attractive troll I've ever met? Shame on you!”

He then starts going around the room waving the picture around to his brothers, saying stuff like “Look how attractive my S/O is! I'm dating them!” while you're just blushing profusely and begging him to stop (even though deep down your kinda giddy about it).

After that day, Clay will do small gestures in which he reminds you how beautiful he thinks you are. Everything to outright saying it each morning, joking about it with his brothers, and even bragging about you to his friends in the Bergen Golf Course.

He's a simp and he's totally okay with that because it's you.

Clay feels like he's the luckiest troll in the world for being able to snatch someone like you since he's “the most boring and uninteresting of the bunch”, so he feels like he's hit the jackpot.

You immediately tell him that he's not boring to you and that he's the best boyfriend ever, which only causes him to smirk.

“Doesn't feel good to know the person you love feels so bad about themselves, does it?”

Finally realizing his reverse psychology, you give in with a laugh. “No, it doesn't. I guess... We can both work on that? Together?”

And so you do, and end up helping each other whenever one is feeling down in the dumps, as a sort of personal cheerleader. You truly couldn't have asked for someone better.

Floyd

You're the kind of person who's very vocal about your interests.

So it's no surprise that you have to catch yourself mid-ramble whenever you're talking about something you're either interested in or knowledgeable about. And with Floyd being such a good listener, it honestly slips your mind more times than you'd prefer.

After realizing you've been talking for too long, you turn pink in the face and start apologizing profusely.

“Sorry! You probably didn't need to hear all of that. They didn't call me ‘Chatter Box’ when I was younger for nothing! Haha...”

But Floyd could care less about any of that. He loves hearing you talk, not just because he's not much of a chatty person, but because he just finds it incredibly endearing.

He'll hold your hands in his own and give you the softest smile ever that just makes you think that it should be illegal to be THIS sweet.

“You're just so cute when you get lost in the moment like that. Besides, I love seeing you happy. By all means, I'm glad you get to do the talking for the both of us, otherwise we wouldn't get anywhere in this relationship.”

You laugh at his attempt to make you feel better and melt under the touch of his lips on your cheek.

After that, whenever you go out either just the two of you or with your group of friends, Floyd will encourage you to express yourself. He does this by either asking you a question directly or subtly incorporating you into the conversation by saying something like. “I think (y/n) knows about this kinda stuff. Don't you, love?”

Obviously this all happens with your consent beforehand, since he doesn't want to put you in a tight spot, either.

Either way, he always values whatever you have to say, since you always bring in new perspectives that maybe others didn't think about before.

He will also encourage you to be yourself and not try and match your topics of conversation with things you think other people will find interesting. You deserve to be happy by sharing what you love with the world.

Poppy and Viva are huge helps in the art of feeling confident by speaking your mind, and Floyd couldn't be happier for you.

You thank him by telling him about your day each night, in which sometimes he'll fall asleep to the soothing sound of your voice, which only warms your heart on so many levels.

“Goodnight, my prince.”

“Goodnight, my little chatter box.”

Branch

Just like Clay, this man is ready to throw hands.

Just give him a name and he'll get the job done before sunrise—

He notices that sometimes you struggle with finding outfits for different occasions, either something casual, dressy, classy, etc.

But it's not because you don't have anything in your wardrobe, on the contrary it's pretty much brimming. It's more the fact that you're not satisfied with any of them because you feel like you don't look good in them.

Branch tries to convince you otherwise, saying that you look great no matter what you wear, but you can't help but feel self-conscious in anything that isn't a good old sweatshirt.

He isn't knowledgeable in fashion (clearly) so he enlists the help of Poppy and The Snack Pack to try and cater outfits to your exact measurements, along with any other nitpicks you've had in the past with either texture or material.

I mean, Branch has backup plans to his backup plans, you think he wouldn't keep notes on what kind of stuff his S/O doesn't like— INCLUDING mundane stuff like their clothing?

He surprises you with these, and you can't help but feel attractive in them since he paid extra attending to the complaints you had from your own designs.

“I personally think you look great no matter what you wear. But if you feel so strongly about it, might as well get some stuff you'll actually enjoy wearing.” He'd said when you asked why he did it, and your heart just melted.

You vow to try and work on your self-imagine regardless, which he gets happy over and says he can't wait for you to see yourself the way he does.

[fairlyang]

Let you break my heart again 🕷️

you are in love with your best friend

w/c: 999

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

tags: kinda angst? you’re so in love, he doesn’t feel the same, heartbreak, shitting n crying, slightly delusional

notes: the grip this song has had on me the past two weeks- this idea came to me last week I just HAD TO-

part two

You had been feeling down the entire day since you saw Miguel post the new girl he had been talking to and calling her his girlfriend with today’s date on the caption.

Him calling you a couple hours after asking if you wanted to go to a party with him only added salt to the wound.

You have been hopelessly and desperately in love with him since your freshmen year of high school.

8 years.

8 years of silence.

8 years of torture.

No one even looked his way in high school because he, alongside you, were known as the science nerds of the school. You obviously didn’t care, if anything it made falling for him that much predictable.

At least for anyone with eyes and good at deciphering body language.

Which Miguel wasn’t.

Somehow he never realized and you never had the balls to confess your love to him.

After graduating high school he had quite possibly the biggest glow up (unbeknownst to you he had turned into spider-man) and first semester of uni changed everything for him.

He had girls eating out of the palm of his hand and practically falling to their knees for him as if they hadn’t been using him to do their homework just a few months back.

Miguel didn’t seem to care or see through all the girl’s intentions.

Meanwhile you had liked him when he would wear nerdy little crewnecks and those thick glasses that had now been long abandoned.

You liked him when he was getting brutally bullied and were the only one to ever stick up for him, but it never going well for either of you.

You liked him when he was going through a hard time with his mom and relied on you heavily for nearly everything.

You liked him when the revelation of who his father was, tore him up to literal pieces.

He was always in your head. Whether it be daydream, hearing someone talk about him, or actually dreaming about him at night.

Only in your mind can you pretend that you’re his girlfriend. That he likes you.

That you’re his first and only choice.

That you’re the only one he wants.

That he’s just as in love with you as you are with him.

He had taken over all your thoughts possible and it never got any easier.

You thought you’d get over it after sophomore year but it only grew as he ended up being your only friend throughout high school.

Nothing was more heartbreaking than having to hear him talk about all the girls he would go out with, or fuck.

The worst was when you’d actually go to parties with him. You’d end up almost throwing up or crying in the bathroom after seeing yet another new girl grinding herself against him or a girl making out with him.

It never ended up being less heartbreaking. You had luckily made a few friends who tried their best to help.

Peter B and MJ.

Somehow you befriended them your first year of uni and all four of you became a little group. They were your occasional saviors when you’d find yourself sulking over Miguel being with another girl.

They’d always try to distract you and cheer you up.

Or if they were the ones to spot Miguel fooling around they’d turn you to the opposite direction to avoid your heart from crumbling again.

You felt as if you were being entrapped.

It was almost as if Miguel subconsciously knew what he was doing.

Because when he grew bored of a girl all of a sudden his attention would be fully on you.

Buying you food, getting you cute little plants, helping you study.

It was an endless cycle of pain and heartbreak then yearning and being enamored by him.

Right now was pure heartbreak and misery.

You had been crying for hours on end now and just let your sad playlist loop.

All you were wishing for now is that one day you’d stop falling in love with him.

That somehow your feelings for him would wash away and you’ll never have to deal with this heartbreak ever again.

But it’s been long now. These feelings weren’t going to disappear.

And he wasn’t going to magically fall in love with you.

Especially because he’s always been the one to let anyone and everyone know that you were only his best friend. And nothing more.

But the way he’d wrap his arms around you, leave kisses on your forehead and cheeks just boggled your head.

The way he would just stare at you when you were rambling about the newest science news you’d heard about.

The way he would hug you tightly at the most random times imaginable.

The way he’d willingly put his jacket on you if it were too chilly outside.

The way he would get so overprotective when a guy asks you out.

So you were always questioning what he really thought of you.

He never made it easy to decipher any of his feelings unless he was telling you up front, which he almost never did.

As more hot tears fell down your face, you could only pray that someone will like you like you like him.

It felt like such an impossible ask.

You loved him so much and you could practically feel pieces of your heart breaking. Why couldn’t he just reciprocate your love?

Why did you have to torture yourself like this?

Why is the only time you’re truly happy (besides when you’re with him) is when you’re dreaming about actually being with him?

Why is it so hard for him to romantically love you?

Why does it always have to be platonic?

Maybe one day you’ll be able to get over him and these feelings won’t be as strong.

Maybe one day you’ll find someone that’ll know how to take care of your heart and return your love.

Maybe one day it’ll be him.

[kaciebello]

Pigeon ball invitation

Masterlist Badger express ★ Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff! reader (fem) Summary: Teaching Hufflepuff how to dance was not on Blasies to-do list  Warnings: no use of y/n,  Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.1k Song: Box - NCT Dream

Blaise comes from a rich family. Yes, he knows their wealth comes from his mother's multiple husbands. But he was not going to spoil her fun. What was spoiling his however was attending all these balls and events.  And one thing he despised even more was dancing. That's why he was frustrated as we watched the Hufflepuff girl glide on the floor. His head hung low as he watched her trip over her own feet.

Why he even agreed to teach her is beyond him. Maybe she batted her eyelashes at him or promised him a free delivery service. He can't remember.

“How are you this bad? I've seen you balance on a flying broom.” He says rubbing his temples. The girl stops and looks at him with a pout. 

“That's easier.” She argues back.

“ How is balancing on a moving stick easier than moving around a solid ground.” She shrugs unable to answer him. 

Right now, she was contemplating her choice of a teacher. She could have asked any of the boys really, she just wasn't sure anyone could teach her ballroom dancing but Blaise.

“Okay, one more time. And please, try to remember the steps.” He says and waves his wand so that the music plays. The girl just sings and makes her to the dummy that has been her dancing partner for the past 30 minutes.

The first few steps are now engraved in her memory and she has no problem dancing that part. It's the twist that comes after, somehow she always manages to twist her feet together. Just as she did now, in panic she even managed to trip the dummy, making it fall. When Blaise heard the thud he did not even need to turn around.

The girl looks at him with an awkward smile. He wants to say something and express his frustration, but she cuts him off.

“Maybe if I was dancing with a human!” She hurls out before thinking. That stops him in his tracks, she's not wrong. Maybe if he has her dancing with someone she will be less likely to trip them and make them face the floor. Yes, it was like 99% she would, but not 100.

“Nobody is willing to risk their feet-”

“You could.”

“EH?” He stops in his tracks. Once again, she is right. It's starting to get on his nerves. He sighs and makes his way to her.

“Fine. But only once.” He says and the girl nods. He grabs one hand to his and places the other one on her waist. She smiles up at him, making it obvious she finally got what she wanted. Blaise just huffs.

“Don't look at your feet too much.” She looks up at him to argue but just nods when she sees his serious face. With a simple wave of his wrist, the music starts to play and they start to dance. As always the first few steps are done correctly and with no problem. 

He could see the girl was more nervous with every second they got closer to the twist. They got into positions and he listed his arms so she could twirl around. Her skirt flowed a bit. At the last second her feet tangled a bit, but Blaise was prepared. Not wanting to embrace her, and frankly not wanting to dance anymore he quickly stabled her by her waist and continued to dance. Giving her a mere second to comprehend what was happening before she had to follow his lead.

When he looked down he could see her smiling seemingly proud of herself. That prompted a smile on his face too. They continued dancing and when the song was nearing the end, he knew what he had to do.

on the last note, he stopped in his tracks and pulled her closer to her body. She did not even have time to react before he dipped her. Wide eyes met his leisurely smile.

“This was not in the original dance.” She says holding on to him for her dear life. She may be a witch but she is not immune to bruises. He just shrugs. Their faces were so close he could feel her talking before he heard it.

“I guess not.” With that, he straightens them up, but not letting her go just yet.  She just looks at him as he swings them in this makeshift hug.

“That was hard.” She whispers just enough for him to hear. He lets out a laugh that rings throughout the whole ballroom.

“Wait till you have to do in a dress and heels.” He says and takes a few steps away from her. She lets out a whine at his words. He once again laughs. Holding his hand out for her to take. He was well aware he said only once, but he hoped she did not register that and he could impress her more. She takes it, getting into positions again.

A coo is heard throughout the ballroom making them stop in their tracks. Suddenly from one of the open windows,  a dove comes down with a little paper wrapped around his leg.

“A pigeon?” he asks and the girl gives him a dirty look, before reaching into her pocket and giving the dove a treat while taking the note.

“A dove, I use them when someone can't reach me. Or when I need to deliver outside of school.” She explains making him look at her weirdly.

“We have owls?” He says and she just mumbles about it not being her style. An idea popped up in his head. He runs to his bag and quickly scribbles something on a piece of paper. He runs back and hands it to the girl. She looks at him confused and she just flashes his smile.

“I do have a free delivery, no?” he asks and she just sighs and nods taking the note from him. She goes to put it in her pocket but he stops her.

“I need it to reach my mom,” he says and her eyes just widen. Before she can ask he shooks his head and answers her.

“You have about the same foot size, she might have some shoes that would feel nice while dancing.” He says and her eyes widen again.

“How do you know this stuff?” She asks but ties the note to the dove before letting it fly away.

“God forbid man express an ounce of girlish whimsy.” He says rolling his eyes. Before extending his hand to her for another dance. She hesitates but takes it nonetheless.

“With no dipping?”

“With all the dipping honey.”

Taglist: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Part 2 to: The Lieutenant's Whore

Dom!Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader, John "Soap" Mactavish x fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Reader

Summary: Hearing what he shouldn't have, Johnny is rightfully angry and what does he let that anger lead to? A bad attitude that leads to even worse decisions. As you confront him about this sudden change in demeanor, things start to heat up. What happens when Simon finds out? Actions have consequences and Johnny is about to learn that you will only ever belong to the man behind the mask.

Word Count: 11.6 k

Warnings:

The promise of going one more round had kept you in Simon’s bed, completely naked and filthy as you eagerly waited for him to get hard again. Another shared cigarette was being passed between you both to wile away the time so there was no real need for conversation; you didn’t come here to have a heart to heart, though you would have waited for hours and hours if it meant you could experience even more of the depravity that had just transpired.

As the burning smoke was exhaled out of your lungs and past your lips, a thought popped into that devious little head of yours. “You do realize that it’s the weekend, don’t you?” you questioned him casually as you passed back the cig for him to take a drag.

Simon placed the stick between his lips and drew the poison deep into his chest. “What of it?” he questioned back before he upturned his eyes at you with a smirk on his lips, letting you know that he was on to your train of thought. “You got somewhere to be, luv?”

You chuckled. “I sure do,” you played as you moved yourself onto him to straddle his lap between your thighs. You held up your fingers to count off things one by one. “Let’s see, where do I start? There’s on my back, on my knees, bent over with my ass in the air. It’ll probably take a couple days to get to it all.”

Simon shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he dug his meaty fingers into the bulk of your ass before giving it a swift smack. “So what I’m hearing is that I’m going to be absolutely knackered come Monday, is that it? Does my little slag want me to keep her dicked down all weekend?”

“As if you had a fucking choice,” you said with a devious smirk, “though it is easier to have you on board of your own volition. Do you know how hard it was waiting to do this again? Oh, no you’re gonna make it up to me and my sore fingers by keeping me busy for the next two days.”

As if he was ever going to say no to that proposition; as long as you both stayed locked up in here, no one would notice that you two had started something that would not be easily stopped. “You goin’ soft on me already? Can’t stand to think ‘bout bein’ away yet?” Simon picked mercilessly.

“You wish, bitch,” you didn’t even miss a tick, “there’s only one thing I’d miss and it’s situated between my legs right now.”

For emphasis, you rocked your hips over that meaty appendage and felt a twitch. Coming back from the dead already. Good, you’d give it a bit more to make sure that it would keep growing. Once it was quite stiff, you stopped rolling your hips and sat still; he was gonna pay for that remark.

“But, I need to grab a few things from my room before we go again,” you continued. “I will need to clean myself from time to time and lord knows I’m not about to use whatever 5-in-1 you have rotting away in the back of your shower.”

Of course you’d pull this shit the minute his cock was almost fully hard again. Fucking infuriating skank, why the hell did you make him enjoy the torture so goddamn much? Your palms were against his bare chest for leverage as you were about to move back off of him, when his hand firmly clasped around your chin to keep you in place. Going toe to toe with you since last night had been a thrill and even now he enjoyed matching your energy.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but you’ve got approximately ten minutes to get your shit and get that sweet arse back here,” he said, drawing your face into his until his lips were nearly on your own. His breath was harsh from the tobacco, but you didn’t care; you liked him best filthy. “Best hurry, luv, cause if I’m left waitin’ with this stiffy any more than what I’ve fuckin’ given you, I’ll make you ride the tip of my boot with your bare pussy until you’re beggin’ and pleadin’ with me to do you proper.”

Fuck. That was enough motivation to get your heart racing and ready to go and you quickly swung your leg off of him so you could exit the bed. His eyes stayed glued to your back as you went in search of your discarded clothing that lay scatter around his floor. As you redressed, those auburn eyes traced the outline of your bare ass until it vanished behind the tight fabric of your jeans.

“Hate to see you leave, but goddamn is it a fuckin’ pleasure to watch you go,” Simon purred through the billowing smoke of another cigarette as he watched you throw back on your disheveled shirt so you could make it across base without gathering an indecent exposure charge.

You shot him one more quick glance before rushing off. He had pulled the sheet up just over his legs and lap as he lay propped up against the wall with his arm behind his head. It was hidden behind the fabric, but you could still see the outline of his cock starting to tent it up and that only made you want to hurry even more. No sense in wasting all that for some clean clothes and a bit of shower gel.

It was still pretty early as you stepped outside Simon’s quarters, the sun’s first light had barely even started to lighten the sky yet so you felt sure that no one would be skulking around to see you leave. Not after last night anyway; most of the others were probably just tucking in to sleep off the booze. You crossed through the base with not a care in the world other than getting back to what was waiting for you beneath the covers.

What you could not have known was that someone close by had heard the sound of the Lieutenant’s door opening and you making your way out. Soap had wanted nothing more than to sleep off not just the alcohol, but the sinking feeling in his chest at what he had stumbled upon earlier in the evening; his mind had other plans though and after sitting in the silence of his room, letting the agitated thoughts run rampant through his mind, he had decided to leave before he worked himself up more than he already was and did something really fucking stupid.

A striking set of blue eyes clocked you nearly running through the base back to your barracks, still wearing the same damn clothes you had on the night before. Soap bristled at the sight as he felt that burning anger welling up in his stomach once again, which only got worse when he saw you exiting the barracks in the same quick manner with a bag now strapped to your shoulder.

He didn’t want to, but quietly he followed behind just out of sight and sure enough you were returning right back to the Lieutenant's room just as he feared. As he watched Simon meet you at the door with just the sheet from his bed barely clinging to his hips and drag you back inside, he felt his heart sink straight into his feet as his fists balled themselves tightly together.

If this was a one and done thing, a drunken mistake that you had let run its course, then Johnny was sure he could get another chance to win you over. But seeing you return to that room destroyed any hope he had that he would get the opportunity to show you that he could give you an experience just as spectacular as what he had heard through the walls in that brief moment.

Kicking the dirt beneath his boots, he stormed off back to his private quarters and entered with an agitated huff as he slammed the door behind him; he couldn’t risk anyone seeing him like this and asking their dumb questions that would surely rotten his mood even further. The wall shook as the door made impact within its frame, the percussive sound reverberating off the walls. “Fucking pussy,” the Scot cursed himself. “Ye lost yer chance at her because ye had to be a lovesick pup. All fur whit?”

Cracking his knuckles before re-clenching his fists, he pulled back his arm and released it directly into the wall. It was enough to make the wall give, but luckily not enough to leave a permanent mark. “Now she’s getting fucked by that bastard,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “That was suppose tae be us in my bed. ‘twas mah name she was suppose tae be moanin’.”

His anger was supposed to be directed at himself, as there was no other that was to blame. Who was the one that pussyfooted around the topic whenever it seemed to present itself? Who was the one that got to worked up at times to meet your obvious flirting with some of their own? And who was the motherfucker that decided to let you leave the bar that night without even asking you if you wanted to go back to his, when you had been all over him all night? All of it was Johnny’s fault in the end.

It was clear he had let his crush mess with his head and though he should have taken the loss and moved on, his mind decided it would rather put that anger towards someone else and that new target would have to be the Lieutenant; he was the one that got to have you while Johnny sat alone with only his hand to keep him satisfied.

So now Simon would have to deal with Johnny’s wrath. And he made sure to start putting that aggression to good use before the day was even out.

Sweat was pouring and limbs were entwined, cock pumping in and out of a tight hole when several hours later a loud knock sounded through the room, making you startle with a jump and Simon grumble with agitation. Try as he might to regain composure to continue, it was shattered when again a loud bang rang out.

Pulling out of you and hopping out of bed in a flurry of anger as he threw on a pair of sweatpants laying near to cover himself, he crossed the room and wrenched the door open only to be met with - nothing. He stuck his head out to look around the area, but it was quiet and undisturbed with not a soul in sight, which only pissed him off more.

You silently listened, curious as to what the intrusion to the middle of your screwing was, but there wasn’t a sound. With a grumble under his breath Simon shut the door and made his way back to you. “Fuckin’ nothing,” he confirmed, slipping quickly back out of his pants and joining you under the covers.

“Whatever it was, it’s done now,” you said trying to get him to focus back on the task at hand. “We probably needed a breather anyway.”

“Done already, sweetheart?” he smirked, setting the tone back to what it was before you were both so rudely interrupted. Frustration be damned, there was still fun to be had.

You shook your head before extending your finger and poking it straight into the middle of his chest. “Now you’re just wasting time. Get back inside me before you regret it.”

And just like that he was back in the moment as he shoved you onto your back, getting between those legs once again like the good little soldier he was to pepper your tits with a flurry of kisses.

Before evening hit that same instance happened twice more, always when you both were in the thick of it when things were the most heated and not easily stopped; it wasn’t as if you weren’t taking breaks, but whenever those long stretches of time came around, they passed by undisturbed. It was clear that someone was doing this on purpose, but the question was why? You were going out of your way to be as quiet as you could, though there were a few times you just couldn’t help it. Still, if someone had a problem with the sound, why not just say something since no one knew you were in there?

It was all very strange, but since the perpetrator couldn’t be caught you tried not to give it more mind; no sense in ruining your weekend. That was until you entered the dining hall that night for supper with Simon in toe like your own personal scary guard dog, and you noticed a significant shift in the atmosphere.

Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that you and Simon were in close proximity and hoping to keep the status quo so that your little secret wouldn’t be found out, you had decided to sit and eat separately. It wasn’t what either of you wanted, but you’d be back in each others company soon enough after you refueled.

Looking through the hall for a place to sit, you caught sight of Soap sitting off from the main group he usually hung with. It struck you as odd; it wasn’t like him to eat alone. Grabbing your food, you made your way over to him and took up a spot by his side. There was a noticeable shift in him the moment you stepped near; where he had been close and talkative before, now there was distance and silence that filled the space between your bodies as he didn’t even bother to greet you. That was not normal at all.

“Hey you, fancy meeting you here.”

You watched as his back tensed as if he had been spooked, caught off guard from being lost in deep thought, but he did not say anything in return to your greeting.

“Everything alright?” you asked as you took your seat, setting your food down and turning your body to face him in your seat with a curious eyebrow raised.

Soap quickly looked at you before he diverted his gaze into his plate, messing about the food with the tip of his fork. It looked as if he hardly had even take a bite yet. “Fine,” he answered curtly, still not meeting your eyes.

It sounded off to you and the whole thing just felt wrong, though maybe you were simply reading too much into it. The alcohol had been plenty last night and it was possible the Sargent had just overdone it after you had left the bar. That was a rare occurrence for sure, but it did happen every once and a while; perhaps last night was just another time you could add to the tally. Nudging him in the ribs with your elbow, you tried to cut the tension with a joke.

“Did the liquor make you her bitch?” you picked, expecting the usual cheeky comeback about him being able to hold his own, but you were only met with him jerking away while his spine visibly bristled at your touch.

He cleared his throat. “No.”

The reply felt even shorter than the prior one and whether or not he was going to admit to anyone right now, something was definitely wrong. “Okay, okay,” you said as you held your hands up in surrender, “just trying to make conversation, but I can see you’ve got your fucking knickers in a twist.”

Nothing, not even a smirk. Whatever it was that got to him had really sunk its fangs in deep. Fine, no more picking since that seemed to only make it worse. Maybe a deviation in conversation would work better.

Picking up your own fork, you began to mess about with the food on your plate. “You know, I really had a good time with you last night. We really need the team to get out more often when we have the time so we can have more fun together.”

The clang from his fork hitting his plate as he threw it down caused those around to look up at the both of you. The suddenness of his action shut you up as you waited to see what he would do next. Quickly he stood from his seat and gathered his things, still without ever making eye contact; he wasn’t going to sit there and listen to anymore of this inane bullshit, not when he was actively trying his best to forget the way you felt against him and all that pent up sexual tension he couldn’t hope to explore anymore.

“Ah gotta go,” he muttered as he left you sitting there, wondering what the hell happened.

You watched him leave the hall before you turned your sight over to Simon sitting not far from you and shot him a look of ‘what the fuck’, which was only met with a subtle shrug. He had noticed the unusual interaction as well, though you knew his feelings about you and Soap, so it wasn’t much consequence to him that he was leaving you alone now. At least he wouldn’t be trying anything with you again as long as he was away.

Still, with the incidents earlier, it was just too much of a coincidence to fully ignore the change in him. You ended up eating in silence just thinking over everything that had happened since the bar in hopes that maybe you could figure it out, but by the time you were finished you had nothing and so you let it be. Besides, Simon was already staring at you, waiting for you to discreetly follow him back to that den of sin that would be your residence for another day so you could end the weekend on a good note.

And what a glorious fucking time it was. The knocking only happened once more and Simon had not even stopped that time. “If it’s important, they’ll fuckin’ say so,” he had grunted as his pace didn’t even slow while he continued pounding into you.

Those sheet were absolutely ruined by the time you were both finished, covered in enough stains to create an entirely new pattern on the fabric, though neither of you were complaining; you didn’t have the strength to. Shit, it was a bitch to even think about leaving, though you knew that you had the privilege back that whenever the mood struck again all you had to do was come find him.

And yet even though you were going to leave there completely and utterly satisfied, something was still eating away at you and it had everything to do with a certain Scot with a newfound sour attitude.

“Something is seriously up with him,” you conjectured as you were drying off after just getting out of the shower, before you were set to get dressed and leave. “I have a sneaking fucking feeling he knows something is up. I think I should talk to him before this gets out of hand. I’ll probably try and catch him some time this week for a little chat; if he does have suspicions we don’t need him spreading that shit around.”

“Probably should avoid being alone with him when you do it,” Simon added.

You paused. “Is that for my benefit or yours?” you shot him a knowing look.

He stared right back at you. “Yours if you know what’s fuckin’ good for ya,” he said firmly. “He’s livid now, but there’s no sense in risking him tryin’ to get close to ya again.”

“Oh, possessive much?” you chided him. “I can handle myself.”

Getting up from his seat on the bed, he moved in and his aggressive kiss hit your mouth quickly. “Never said you couldn’t,” he returned as he broke the connection. “But I don’t want no manky bastard tryin’ anything with you, ever. I meant what I said, sweetheart.”

You kissed him back once more. “I’ll be fine.”

A swift smack to your backside punctuated your kiss. “Fine,” he conceded. “Now, get your arse outta here before I change my mind about lettin’ you go back to your bed.”

It was a few days before you found the time to actually address the Soap situation, as whenever you went looking for him the man could not be found. Literally, you would hang around his usual places, hoping to casually run into him and strike up conversation, but it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t till the middle of the week when opportunity presented itself and found you at the right place and time. As you were passing through the superior’s offices on other business that evening, you saw it just out of the corner of your eye. The bright, florescent overhead light shone from inside his office; he seemed to be the last one still there, working late. Immediately you jumped at the chance to confront him, your feet carrying you quickly in that direction before he had the possibility to evade you once again. Whatever this was that persisted between you both was going to get resolved one way or another right here and fucking now.

Rapid fire knocks upon the open door to his small office made Johnny look up from his seated position behind his desk where he sat busy with paperwork and the moment his sight clocked you, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

Johnny immediately diverted his gaze just as he had been, his emotions getting the better of him. “Ah’m kind o’ busy at the moment,” he brushed off your question as he pretended to busy himself with the papers on his desk, but you weren’t satisfied with that.

You took a deep breath as you stepped over the threshold. “Look, I think we need to talk.”

“Ah dinnae think we do,” he scoffed back.

See, again this wasn’t normal. There was no way in hell the old Johnny wouldn’t jump at the fucking chance to engage in chitchat if it meant you would stick around. Something had crawled up his ass, that was certain, you just didn’t know what.

“Johnny,” you said, brow furrowed at this sudden shift in attitude towards you lately. “What’s goin-”

“It’s Sargent tae ye,” he snapped, immediately shutting you up and cutting you off before anymore could be uttered, “’n’ ye’ll do well tae mind that.”

“Well excuse me,” you said angrily, instantly agitated by the way he had just jumped down your throat unprovoked. “What the fuck has got into you lately? Maybe you want to fill me in as to why all of a sudden you want to act like a bitch and pull this rank shit with me? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” he repeated the word with a sneer.

“Yes, friends,” you reiterated. “Ya know, pals? Good buddies? Or was I wrong?”

You had come here under the best of intentions, to clear the air of whatever the hell was going on, but his sudden hostility towards you changed all that without a second thought. Johnny wanted to continue with this bullshit then you were going to match that energy; you weren’t one to be fucked with. Even still, you needed to get down to the bottom of just how much he knew and fast.

What he said then took you by surprise. “What? Ah thought ye got wet by men in higher ranks,” the statement slipped angrily from his lips.

“Excuse me.”

Finally he looked back up into your face. “Did ye think ah wouldn’t fin’ oot about what it is ye’re up tae, hmm?” he questioned. “Aboot ye ‘n’ Ghost getting far tae familiar. Oh, thought yer wee secret was safe did ye?”

You stared back at him, furious. How the hell had he found out about that? Had he been following you when you didn’t realize it? You swore you’d been more than careful at keeping all that on the downlow. “I knew you were sweet on me, but fuck Johnny, you stalking me now?”

He shook his head. “Maybe ye should learn how tae fuck more quietly, lass,” he scoffed. “Ye’re lucky the whole base didnae hear ye taking th’ Lieutenant like a fuckin’ whore the other night, though now that ah think aboot it maybe they should. Maybe Price would like tae hear aboot this gross miss use o’ rank manipulation by one o’ his favorites.”

Oh, so this is what it was all about…that bit alone made it blatant; it was him that had been trying to sabotage you getting dicked good by the big man on base and it was all because he was jealous. His snide, underhanded comment made that crystal clear. You should have seen this coming a mile away, what with how he was practically in your pants at the bar that night, but being blinded by an overabundance of top quality dick can make anyone blind. Still, you never thought he would go as far as to threaten you; honestly you didn’t think he had it in him and it caught you slightly off-guard.

“Why don’t you just shut up and admit it,” you shot back with white hot aggression at his weak attempt at blackmail. “Admit that the only reason you’re standing here right now acting like this is because you didn’t get to tap it first. You had your chance the other night, do you know that? Shit, you had even more chances than that if we’re both being honest, it’s not my fault you didn’t jump on any of them. You snooze you loose, bitch, and now it’s the Lieutenant that gets all this to himself.”

Johnny had never been jealous of the masked man before the other night, but hearing that he had squandered his chances to have you only made his blood boil in his veins. All the time you had both spent together, all the flirting, was it all for nothing because he wasn’t headstrong enough to be his usual cocky self and go after what he wanted?

And then the bar, he hated to think it, but was that all a part of some big game? He had had his suspicions the way Simon had stormed out of there that night and you following not long after, but so entranced by your company he was that he let it slide. Now that he really thought it through it was something he had to push out of his mind because he knew he might not like the answer if he thought about it for much longer.

Cheeks burning and mouth dry, his emotions got the better of him and Johnny couldn’t stop the shit spewing forth from his mouth as he rose to stand on his feet. “Ye think ye’ve won th’ lottery, dinnae lass? Sure, L.T. might be able tae give yer body what it needs, I dinnae know what kind o’ game he’s got, but what aboot when he’s finished? Ye think he’s really th’ best option tae keep aroond?” he questioned, as he moved out from around his desk, closing the distance between you both with a few steps. “A’ve been soft aroond ye because of my feelin’s, but if ye wanted someone tae treat ye like a slag in th’ bedroom all ye had to do was say so. But what aboot after that though? How aboot also bein’ treated like a princess in public, cause if that’s th’ case yer lookin th’ wrong direction Bonnie. L.T. dinnae seem the type for that sort o’ thing.”

“And what if I like being treated as only a toy and nothing more, hmm?” you pressed him. “Maybe I don’t want to be your princess; maybe I like being a whore?”

Damn, he knew you were rough around the edges, a strong broad who knew exactly what she wanted, but something about a girl who wasn’t about to let a man make her feel weak in any sense of the word only made him want you more. Tough women who posed a challenge to win over made the Scotsman weak in the knees.

“An what aboot when he gets tired of ye, hmm? Ye know he will. Ye gonna come crawlin back tae me then?”

You smirked; god, he was trying his hardest to slide his way between you and Simon. Could you really blame him? No, but that didn’t make his disrespect any less. “Is this your angle? Talk shit and think it’s gonna change my mind, like I don’t know what the hell I’m getting myself into. Cause that’s pathetic.”

The corner of his lip upturned. “Na, pathetic is th’ way I’d have ye begging me fur more before Ah’m done, baby girl.”

Well damn, that wasn’t half bad, you thought with a chuckle. Eyes locked to his, you gave him a impressed nod. “I almost believed you, good job,” you praised his performance mockingly. “But I’m not some little girl that you can just throw on the charm and seduce; you think you know the type of woman I am, but you’ve only hit the tip of the iceberg baby. You gonna talk a big game, big man, you gonna have to live up to it.”

“Who says ah cannae?” he pushed back. “Maybe ye dinnae know me as well as ye think ye do either. Maybe ye’re afraid tae admit how much you want me.”

As if you had so easily forgotten how he used to act before his little heart had grown attached to you; like you hadn’t been there times before where he had picked up a girl from the bar, using not only the charm of his quick wit, but his slick attitude to win her over. Perhaps he had forgotten that you had not always been the object of his desire, but that was besides the point.

Johnny was trying to cross a dangerous line with you and that would not stand, not one fucking bit. Offended wasn’t the words because let’s be honest, being lusted after was anything but euphoric. However, if he thought he could come between you and Simon he had another thing coming; no matter what he did, there was no way you would not be immediately running back to the ghost-masked man of your desire. That didn’t stop you from playing the game though.

“I’m genuinely curious now since you want to talk your bullshit,” you said. “I know you have a cocky streak in you a mile wide so come on, let’s see it; show me what you got if you have the balls for it. Cash in on the checks that that mouth of yours is making. But, you know if ‘he’ finds out what you’re doing its not gonna end well for you.”

You thought calling his bluff would make him back down, but your challenge had the opposite effect now. The short distance that still existed between you both was now reduced to nothing and you could feel a muscular arm sneaking its way around your hip towards your back before he sharply snapped it back into himself with you in its grasp, pressing your body fully up against him. “Ah’m not scared o’ th’ likes o’ him.”

“You should be,” you smirked. “You think he likes to share? If you’re not careful you are gonna be in a lot of pain.”

That hand at your waist slithered its way down to your ass, where he palmed it and gave it a tight squeeze over your pants as he made your hips grind against him. “A’m done talkin aboot him ‘n’ what he wants,” Johnny said. “How aboot we talk aboot if ye want me tae stop.”

Fuck, the air suddenly felt thick with forbidden lust and though you would never belong to anyone other than Simon, it was hard not respond to Johnny’s overwhelming intensity for you in that moment. His other hand not currently gripping your ass found its way to the back of your head and he laced his fingers through the strands of your hair where he held them locked down before pulling to make your head jerk back and expose your neck.

Leaning in, his breath wafted over the tender flesh down towards your collar bone. Nostrils caught the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your natural musk and it made his head spin. “Ye think ye know whit a’m capable o’, Bonnie, but ye have no idea. Why dinnae show ye just a taste o’ it? Think ye can handle it?”

You stayed silent as he brought his head in closer towards your own, his lips inching in towards your mouth steadily. Confident and headstrong looked good on him; he should have started with that from the beginning and maybe you both would have moved past friends sooner, but now that you knew what true domination felt like, he could never hope to live up to that. As good as you felt in his arms, there was no forgetting the man who was consistently making you come.

“Please, can I handle it?” you mocked. “I’d have you whimpering on your fucking knees in an instant if I wanted to.”

“We’ll see aboot that, lass,” he said as his lips were almost upon yours, his growing hard-on pressing into the bulk of your thigh. Desperate boy, you thought. The warm, sticky heat moistening the air around your mouths from your mixed breaths, his grip on the back of your head tightening as he agonizingly rendered the distance between you to near zero, made your pulse quicken in response under his touch. Just before that first connection…his lips nearly there…you could almost taste him…a voice boomed into the room from the door making you both jump.

“Mactavish!” a gruff voice bellowed out from right at the doorway, making the Scot’s head turn with a snap towards its source. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’? You off your goddamn rocker?”

There he was in all his glory, the owner of your cunt, standing there menacingly as he took up the entirety of the exit with his size; his eyes flared with an overwhelmingly intense hatred for the man currently putting his hands all over what belonged to only him.

Leaning in towards his ear as Johnny kept his sight on a pissed off and fuming Simon, you chuckled low and seductive. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” you said in sing song fashion. “Told ya.”

Stalking inside with a huff as his pulse raced through his veins to make his body shake, Simon slammed the door to the office shut behind him and locked it, securing all three of you inside until he decided when and if he would release you. That strong jaw shifted back and forth under his mask as he ground his teeth together to stop the rage that would surely make him end up in military police custody for homicide from consuming him, though if Johnny didn’t let you go soon those twitching muscles in his forearm from his clenched fist would soon be connecting with whatever he could get his hands on.

“This doesn’t concern ye L.T.,” Johnny spat, still clinging to you tightly, “I sugges’ ye leave.”

“Fuck no, this directly involves me,” Simon hissed, cracking his knuckles that were itching to bash his skull in. The vitriol in his voice had enough of an acidic bite in it that it could have burned a hole through the fucking floor. “You currently have your filthy mitts all over something that doesn’ belong to ya. I sugges’ if you want to keep those hands attached to your goddamn arms you will get them off ‘er, now.”

“Ah think she can decide fur hers-,” Johnny tried to hold his ground, but that was not about to last. There was no chance in hell he could out intimidate the master of intimidation.

Simon cut him off abruptly before he could continue with this blatant disrespect by getting directly into his face, planting his boots firmly into the ground in case he needed to take more drastic action to get the bastard to release you back to him. The hate-filled glare that bore into Johnny’s eyes made a sneaky shiver run up his spine. “Do you think this is a fucking game, mate?” Simon threatened low and menacing, his accent getting more heavy with his growing anger. “I am not fuckin’ playin ‘round here. Get your filthy fuckin’ hands off of what isn’t yours. Now.”

The rage brewing within Simon’s words were not meant to be taken lightly and as he wasn’t about to move until you were free, there was nothing more he could do. Looking back towards you once again, Johnny bit his lip hard to stop himself from popping off without thinking things through and ripped his hand out from around the small of your back and off your hip.

“Come ‘ere,” Simon snapped his fingers at you and you shot Johnny one last look of ‘I did try to warn you’ as you crossed in front of him towards your lover.

Christ, that was too close for comfort and Simon needed to re-stake his claim right then and fucking there before he lost his goddamn mind; you were his. His. And Johnny was going to have to understand that right this fucking minute. Keeping this whole thing a secret only worked when no one was trying to worm their way between you both, now that Simon had seen with his own two eyes how his treasure had almost been stolen by someone he called friend he couldn’t see straight; he had to rectify this now and there was only one way.

He had to make his claim known without a shadow of a doubt to the one trying to undermine it.

Once you were within range, Simon grabbed you and spun you around quick; flinging your back at the wall before he pinned you against it. The full weight of his body pressed you into to surface as if he were trying to fuse you into it. In the same breath, his customary mask was wrenched above his mouth and he wasted not even a second before he took your lips heated and greedily with force.

Johnny had not kissed you, Simon’s sudden intrusion had made quite sure of that, but the bastard’s lips were near enough that that hulking beast of a man had to remove even the specter of their touch by taking them with a dizzying intensity that left you clenching your thighs. Goddamn was he grateful that a sudden knot in his stomach had told him to come find you; if he would have waited and Johnny had gotten to you he would have lost his fucking mind.

“Fine,” Johnny growled angrily at this garish pissing contest that he was being forced to witness as you both had him blocked in; screw this small ass office. “Ye’ve proven yer fucking point. Ah got th’ message. Now, how aboot ye get th’ fuck oot.”

Simon ignored everything around him except for you, his lips too busy performing that intricate dance of back and forth, connecting and reconnecting over and over with your full lips again and again until your mouth burned with the friction. Hands roaming your body, following curves that he knew by touch alone, periodically smashing up against you, a whimper escaped from you and Simon readily drank it down. You closed your eyes as you let him fill you with his possessiveness; this is why you could never ever belong to another.

“Did ye hear me?” Johnny piped up once more, done watching someone else make you come apart at the seams. He wanted you both out, now. “Ah said ah got it; Ah’ll leave her alone. Ye can fuckin go.”

One more hard, lingering kiss was left across your mouth before Simon broke the connection and paused a moment to admire his handiwork. Your lips, bright red and swollen from his assault, your cheeks blossoming with color, with the lust-drunk look plastered on your face, all made up the perfect picture. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Does he know?” Simon posed the question under his breath.

You nodded as you held Simon’s gaze. “Pretty much all of it,” you confirmed that there was no sense in hiding anything anymore as Johnny was aware of your involvement with each other.

“You want me to go, really? For what? So that you can try this shit again ‘nother time?” Simon challenged while keeping his eyes solely on you. “Sure, you’ll cool down for a bit, but let’s be honest mate; take a look at her, you aren’t gonna stay ‘way for long. No, no one’s going anywhere. Ya haven’t learned well enough yet, but that’s gonna be rectified right here and fuckin’ now.”

Giving your lower lip one last quick nip, he released you from his grip and turned to face his Judas. Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, Johnny’s posture shifted as he stared back, waiting to see what Simon would do. His palms grew sweaty as Simon moved back towards him, pointing a thick finger hotly towards the chair stationed behind Johnny’s desk.

The idea came to him in a split second as rationality had fled when the anger had settled in, a nugget of a thought that was born that first night you and Simon had rekindled your passion for fucking each other’s brains out, and now it returned to the forefront of his thoughts. The way you nearly vibrated with excitement on top of him that night when he brought it up, he knew you would be more than game for it if he suggested it now; of course his perfect little whore would want nothing more than to please him.

“That type of disrespect isn’t gonna fuckin’ fly with me,” Simon hissed. “You knew she was not up for the takin’ and yet you still tried. Now you are gonna pay; you’re gonna sit there and watch as I fuck her right on your desk. You’re gonna listen as she screams my name and see first hand just why she is mine and mine alone.”

This was ridiculous; as if Johnny were just going to stay here and take this shit. “Ye cannae do this,” Johnny said in protest, but it was in vain as Simon was not going to give up; the beast had been provoked.

“Oh yes I can; you brought this on your goddamn self by putting your nose where it didn’t belong. Now, sit - the fuck - down before I make you,” Simon demanded and begrudgingly Johnny followed orders. The skull masked giant was scary intimidating when he wanted to be and with the several inches in height he had on the pretty boy in this enclosed space, it was enough to make him submit.

Johnny subdued, Simon refocused back on you. That rough palm cupped your cheek, making you look up at him and only him. With a heavy touch he drug the thick pad of his thumb over your lower lip as he stared at their fullness with hunger in his gaze.

“How about it, hmm?” he asked. “Why don’t we give Johnny boy here a show he won’t fuckin’ easily forget; it’ll be just like you wanted. Don’t you want him to see how good you take me? He thinks he knows what you need, how about we show him how bloody wrong he really is.”

The idea of performing in front of Johnny was enough to make your head buzz with the sudden intensity of your arousal. You would have allowed the entire base to watch you get plowed by Simon, getting absolutely destroyed by his massive cock, if he asked it of you, but Johnny would do just fine.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed without hesitation. Your lover had been disrespected after all and you knew with the way Simon was fuming that the rage-fueled sex would be oh so good right now.

“Good girl,” Simon praised in the gravely tone that fit his accent to perfection. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

Your lips already raw and still parted as you waited for his mouth to come back to yours, eyes hooded with lust, you did not even protest as those large hands moved down the front of your torso and took hold of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head to leave you standing in your bra.

“She’s really giving you a treat, Mactavish. You think everyone gets this view?” Simon spat back behind him as he moved you both right before the desk with you in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He may be the only one who could touch you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want others to watch as he did it. No, he wanted to parade you around just to show off what others couldn’t have.

Those muscular arms crossed themselves across your torso, pushing your tits together to give them more lift as they sat still inside your bra while his mouth found the crook of your neck where he laid the first of a few quick nips. “Neva seen such a glorious sight, have you Johnny?” he groaned, looking down into the peaks of your breasts that had popped up over the top of your lingerie. “Let’s make it even fuckin’ better.”

With one hand he drew the clasp in the middle of your back together, pinching the sturdy fabric until the tiny hooks unclasped themselves and your bra hung loose at the front of your chest. Coming back around, his hand grabbed at the middle of the bra and wrench it forward and off your shoulder to leave your breasts fully exposed. “Don’t need this, I’ve got something for those juicy tits.”

Those two oversized hands of his cupped the fullness of your breasts within their grasps, cradling them against the palms as they spilled a little through his grip. Taking your pink rosebuds between his thumbs and the side of his pointer fingers he rolled the tiny beads around until they stuck out prominently in between his digits.

“You like that you little slag? Fuck, you have enough tits to go around, luv,” Simon said pointedly against the side of your head as he continued to work at your nipples, waiting until he got the whimper he was looking for before addressing Johnny again in mockery. “Doesn’t that just eat you up inside Johnny boy? That I get all of this to my fuckin’ self?”

A hand slipped down the front of your pants and inside the waistband, traveling across the warm, soft skin of your abdomen until it hit the crotch of your pants so that he could cup that rough palm against your sex. A moan escaped your lips as he scooped up against it and applied a good bit of pressure. “Oh,” he hissed delightedly as a dampness instantly hit his hand, “she’s already drippin’ for me, aren’t you, luv? Mmm, I think she’s enjoin’ bein’ the center of attention. Too bad you can’t get a feel of these silky petals old boy; they’re so warm and wet and soft it should be a goddamn crime. Fuckin’ hell, they’d make Satan himself repent ina fuckin heartbeat.”

You could feel Simon’s girth throbbing against your tailbone as he massaged up against your swollen clit, his other hand still cupped around your breast. He was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, audience be damned. His cock was so hard it was about to rip a hole in the crotch of his pants as he put all his energy into you, feeling it throbbing with each beat of his pulse as his heart worked extra since all the blood had rushed to that girthy appendage.

Head heavily falling back against his shoulder, you let yourself go completely to him while your hips began to move with him as you thrust against his palm to create even more friction. The thrill of having Johnny sitting there, eyes glued to you as if he were unable to pull his sight from your form only made your skin tingle with excitement and heightened your arousal. It was true, you loved being the center of attention and to have Simon so possessive over you was the icing on this sinful cake.

“These have got to go, baby,” Simon’s voice at your ear growled, his hand leaving your cunt for the moment as he tugged at the waistband of your pants. Nimbling he undid the button and pulled down the zipper agonizingly slow and you swore you could hear the second that Johnny had stopped breathing.

Simon’s heavy panting was at your ear as the rest of the entire room stood silently still. If it were up to him in that moment he would have just thrown you over the desk and entered you without another second being spent, but his anger had not left him completely yet and he really wanted his brother in arms to be destroyed.

“Slide them off, easy now; make Johnny squirm with the anticipation of it,” he ordered before he leaned in so that only you would hear the next bit. “Make him pay for tryin’ to take you from me; ruin him.”

Lifting your head back up off Simon’s shoulder you brought your gaze directly to Johnny’s face, holding his sight locked in your own. Your mouth still agape with your short, rapid exhalations you made a show of slipping your fingers into the now opened waistband at the hips. Pushing them just a little, they moved down an inch as you jutted your hip out seductively. Then you paused as Simon latched those lips to your neck.

“Do you want to see me Johnny?” you asked in a breathy whisper. “Cause I really, really want you to see me. All of me.”

Johnny could have easily looked away from the sight before him, no one was forcing him to watch, but try as he might to pull his hungry gaze away he couldn’t. Simon was right, fuck you were gorgeous being absolutely manhandled like that even though it wasn’t him that was doing it. Still, the way your body looked as it flushed pink with the heat of your pleasure made it hard not to enjoy the show. If the tightness now giving the front of his pants a good tenting was any indication, he was going to be in pure agony for weeks on end.

His silent, wide-eyed stare spoke volumes and again you lowered the waistband just a bit more, right at the base of your pubic bone. The little patch of neatly trimmed hair at the top of your pussy had just started to peak through the zipper as you paused for the second time.

Sucking the silky smooth flesh of your neck, Simon hummed into you. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised how well you were following his direction. “Steady on.”

Heavy thumps from his pulsating heart could be felt in his ears as Johnny watched on with baited breath while you finally slipped the cloth concealing your cunt off your hips and down over the curve of your ass, not stopping until you had pulled them completely off your legs and they lay resting on the ground. Standing back up to your full height you gazed back up at your audience with innocent doe eyes as you bit your lip playfully.

“What do ya think?” Simon posed the question to Soap who was now foaming at the mouth. “Can you think of anything more beautiful than this? And it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

God, the ecstasy of being paraded around like Simon’s favorite toy was out of this world and you couldn’t help but revel in the euphoria of it all. As much as you knew Simon wanted Johnny to pay for what he did, you knew that the only reason he agreed to such a punishment in the first place was because he desperately wanted someone, anyone, to know that he had you under his thumb.

And something about how incredibly, indescribably, ridiculously hot that thought was made you absolutely feral.

You ran your hands around your neck and down around your breasts, giving them a squeeze before continuing down the line of your body. You glided over your hips while giving them a twist before stopping just shy of your cunt as Johnny’s chest heaved heavily up and down.

“Fuck,” he said barely above a whisper as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and you smiled.

Simon moved back against you, his forehead resting against the side of your head as he pawed at his cock within his pants, trying to adjust the painfully tender organ to sit more comfortably to no avail; he was too worked up now and only one thing would fix it. Still, lips resting at your ear, Simon gave another command. “Touch yourself.”

That was an order you would not hesitate to follow.

Extending your middle and ring fingers, you slipped your hand fully down between your thighs and split yourself open slowly; fuck, you were just as tender as he was, your throbbing clit could barely take anymore without some form of release. Easing your fingers inside, you found that precious bean and began to stroke concise circles over the top of it.

“Mmmm…” you moaned into your closed mouth as a shiver ran through you.

Pressed up against you, Simon could feel the shake in your arm as you worked yourself, the muscle of your bicep vibrated on his torso and rubbed against his abdominals. He focused everything on the little mewls and groans you let flow out of you like music as you drew out your own ecstasy stroke by even stroke. If your loyalty to him was ever in question, it was resolved now as you followed his orders completely without hesitation.

You were the farthest thing from God as something could get, but the damnation was more than worth it just to covet you all to himself. If Simon ever felt the need to worship, it was your body that would be his religion now.

His hand cupped your cheek to hold your head against him. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” Simon groaned, eyes still closed. “Are you thinkin’ of me as your fingers do all the fuckin’ work?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Say it, out loud.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m thinking of that fat fucking cock of yours plunging deep inside me. Goddammit Simon, please, I need you baby.”

Yes, oh fucking God yes. “Look at Johnny, say it again.”

Eyes heavy lidded found the Sargent’s face. With voice clear, you spoke your truth, unashamed. “God I need to feel Simon’s cock stretching me out, filling me full, making me vibrate. Christ, I need him to fuck me stupid.”

A pathetic whimper sounded behind closed lips as your stroke hit a bit of extra sensitivity. The vision of him finally bending you over the desk to enter you was all you could imagine now and it made you writhe with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunted, his phallus bruising your leg as he ground the hard tip into your thigh. “I’m gonna fucking fill you so full to the goddamn brim with me, I’ll have your legs shakin’. You want that, to be stuffed full? Maybe I’ll really stuff you, give you everything.”

His brain was misfiring, his heartbeat pounding, his pupils dilating as each agonizing second passed until he could not hold back a thought that came forward towards the surface of his mind. The ultimate show of possession, the peak of ownership, the true slap in the face of the one watching you both right now. And he let out that thought that was snaking its way through him like electricity.

“How about we make Johnny watch as I fuckin’ breed you?” he growled, low and primal, putting his whole chest into it.

Simon almost had to grab you to stop you from falling as your knees nearly buckled out from under you at his salacious statement. That came out of nowhere to take you completely by surprise, but Jesus Christ what a visual that you were instantly obsessed with now. Was he trying to stop your heart because if he was going to say shit like that he better have a defibrillator on standby.

“Yes, fucking yes,” you whined as you fingers began to move faster and faster against your clit. “Do it baby, fucking breed me. Fill me nice and deep. Make this pussy yours.”

It was so wet between your legs the sound of your fingers stroke through your slick was now audible and Johnny was trying his hardest not to pass out. What he wouldn’t have given to have the balls to get up, throw Simon out, and have his fucking fill of you; that was a dream, but shit was he burning to slide his cock into that slopping mess gathering between your thighs.

“Please, Simon,” you cried out, “take me now. Please, I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I need to feel you.”

Simon’s member was so tender with a deep ache that it was almost painful. Enough was enough, screw Johnny and this bullshit display, this wasn’t waiting another second; if he wasn’t inside of you in the next beat it felt like he would burn to death.

A strong hand gripped your wrist and ripped your hand from out between your thighs before it moved to your hip and was joined by the other on the opposite one. You were being shoved forward, pushed from behind as Simon blocked your hips up against the edge of the desk. You were already bending over it when his forearm pressed into your shoulder blades to guide you down before his fingers were running the length of your spine to your ass.

The other hand quickly pulled down the zipper on the front of his pants and finally he was able to release himself, his pants hanging loosely about his lower hips. His cock was so swollen and feverish to the touch, the moment it hit the cooler air outside his clothing he winced. The two prominent veins along the length throbbed and pulsed with his raging heartbeat and the engorged tip shimmered with a bit of precum that had leaked out.

No time was wasted as he used his booted foot to spread your legs open wider, shifting his hips in against your ass as he slid the tip of his phallus between your damp petals. Slipping it back and forth as few times, he coated himself in your juices; he was about to go all in and he would take as much lubrication as he could so that nothing would be snagging.

Once satisfied he again grabbed your hips and aligned himself, thrusting hard towards your entrance, inserting himself fully into you. You took him all in perfectly, your body swallowing every last delectable inch as if it was designed to hold all of that girth.

“Oh god baby, you’re just suckin’ me right in, you greedy bitch,” he hissed, those fingertips bruising your skin as he held on for dear life. “Christ, take it all, slut.”

He had to pause to collect himself, otherwise this would be over before it had begun. It should be a goddamn felony for you to feel this good, as if it were that first time all over again. You had to have a bit of witch in you to keep him under your spell like this.

Breathing through the waves of ecstasy threatening to undo him, he regained his composure and began pounding into you with strong, robust thrusts, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming back into your core down to the base of his cock. Your body rocked against his intense thrusts, breasts bouncing across the desk as your face was pressed even further into the surface; you could only moan as the euphoria coursing through you at his movements was intoxicating.

A strong grip around your neck from behind picked up your head and pointed it forward right back at Johnny’s face from off the tabletop. Mouth open and jaw slack as you breathed through each delicious thrust from Simon’s cock, you locked eyes with the mohawked Sargent and held his gaze.

“There we go, you keep those eyes on ol’ Johnny boy there, pretty girl” Simon growled. “I want him to see the look in them as you take every last goddamn inch of me.”

The warmth radiating from his body made your skin tingle as your back began to glisten with perspiration; his fingertips left trails of fire everywhere he touched and you were more than willing to burn for him. He kept the pace even, making each thrust count as he hit that tiny bundle of nerve endings inside of you.

You could feel your pulse match his in perfect unison, your heartbeats determining the pace he pounded that cunt of yours. The harder his hips pumped into you, the more the sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the silence of the room. What beautiful fucking music your screwing made. The force shook through your trembling body, but the precision was spot on in hitting that perfect spot time and time again until you were so inebriated on the exhilaration of the over stimulation.

Gagging on his own moan, Simon looked down to watch himself thrust in and out of you. Too much, it was all too damn much; you took him so goddamn well, the way your juicy cunt pulled his cock in. No one had ever made him this pussy-drunk, not in recent memory and as you bucked against his pelvis, that intoxication only grew.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you buck any harder and I’m going to blow my load right fuckin’ now,” he grunted between thrusts. “You want that? For me to fill that pussy full? Why don’t you tell Johnny what you want.”

You licked your parched lips as you struggled to regain your ability to speak. “I need him to fill me Johnny,” you said, your eyes pleading with the man directly in your vision staring, unblinking. Your eyes begin to water, its too good, its too much. He’s hitting deep, as deep as the angle can get while his testicles bounce of your pussy to add that extra bit of stimulation. On your tiptoes, you are backing it up until your ass is flush with him, mouth hanging open as you pant like a bitch in heat, saliva threatening to drip from your lips. “Please, I can’t take much more.”

Johnny’s hand began pawing at himself unconsciously through his pants, trying to calm the storm. It feels like you are asking him a question, but his brain was so hazy he couldn’t form solid thoughts. That desperate look in your eye, the begging swimming in their depths, he could feel the breadth of your desire for the man behind you.

“Please…”

Simon turned his attention to Johnny for the first time since before he entered you and smirked. “So needy isn’t she?” he asked. “Always making me work for it. She’s almost fuckin’ there, though, but this part is just for me.”

Quickly he pulled his cock out of you amidst your whimpers at suddenly feeling empty and spun you around, picking you up so that your ass made contact with the surface of the desk where you sat. There was no need to worry, he was back in between those legs in the blink of an eye and as you wrapped your thighs around his hips, he thrust back inside that tight, sopping wet cave.

His body shuddered harshly from the feeling of your silky walls being wrapped around him again. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he grunted, his eyes meeting yours. You were a mess, a beautiful disaster, and his breath hitched as he admired your flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, swollen, cracked lips; all his doing.

Those primal instincts within his marrow took over and all he knew, all he cared about was the feeling of your walls constricting around him and how that pleasure takes all his cares away. His lips crashed upon yours furiously, completely muting your whines as his movements become more ferocious.

“You are mine,” Simon said repeatedly in hushed groans against your lips as if trying to pour the sentiment down your throat. “Mine.”

His, you thought. Only his.

Harder and harder his abdominal muscles clenched and retracted as he put everything into the force of his thrusts. Your tits bounced up and down in front of his face, jiggling with each hit as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to hang on as he rocked your body.

“Say it, I want to hear it,” he demanded suddenly; as much as he was struggling to hold it off, it wasn’t working, and he was about to come.

“I’m yours, Simon,” you mewled, your grip on his spine tightening.

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. “Again.”

You swallowed the saliva gathering in the front of your mouth to coat your parched throat. “I’m yours, Simon, only yours,” you said louder this time.

“Again.”

“Simon, this pussy is yours, only yours, forever yours. …Fuck.”

With that last syllable he was gone; his cock pulsed violently inside you, his body writhing harshly while he drained himself dry, coating your walls with his fluids as he continued to pump inside of you. There was no way he was going to give up until you had come too. A few more strong thrusts in and out with steady rhythm and that was all it took, you were crying out as well, throwing your head back as you shook with the intensity of it all. That grip on your hips turned painful as Simon dug his fingertips into your flesh to keep you both steady while you rode out your orgasms until there was nothing left to give and once he finally released you, you toppled backward onto the desk exhausted.

Pulling out of you nice and slow, everything was far to tender to move quick anymore, he gazed down at his masterpiece. Your entrance dripped droplets of his seed as it spilled out of you and something about it made him shiver with excitement. You looked absolutely divine stuffed with his cum.

As he looked back up towards your face, he was met with your sleepy, ecstasy-filled smile and his heart leapt in his chest. Goddamn, this was a fucking dream. He leaned over your exhausted body and pulled your head up, mashing his face into yours as he captured your lips and held them locked until he could feel your heartbeat slow to a more respectable rhythm.

Releasing you and resting his forehead on yours, he holstered his cock back inside his pants. “Get dressed and head back to my quarters, I’ll be there in a bit. I got something to finish up here first.”

You nodded into his head and he helped you to get up off the desk and grab your clothing, holding your tired, shaking body steady while you put everything back on. “You did so good for me, luv,” he whispered his praise before walking you to the door to unlock it and let you out, re-locking it behind you.

Johnny was already on his feet by the time Simon turned around. Crossing the room in just a few large steps, he was on him. Simon’s large hand wrapped itself around his throat as his face inched in closer in intimidating fashion.

“You ever try to touch ‘er again, anything more than just a friendly little handshake, and I will make it my mission to ruin your fuckin’ life. Understand me, Sargent?”

A nod of his head. “Yes,” Johnny said quietly as he struggled against his grip.

That wasn’t good enough. “I didn’t fuckin’ hear you,” Simon snapped.

“Yes, sir,” he said more firm this time.

“And if words get back to me that you went to Price about this, well, let’s just say that certain actions have consequences. Is that also fuckin’ clear?” Those rich chocolate eye bore down into Johnny’s soul with the seriousness of his words; this would be the one and only warning he got.

The sour look on Johnny’s face let him know he had gotten the message. “Crytsal, sir,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Simon snapped, releasing the grasp on his neck just as quickly as he had taken it.

Moving back, he straightened himself up to make sure nothing would look out of place to anyone he would pass on the way back to his room before speaking again. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sargent. I know I will.”

And with that Johnny was left alone as Simon threw open the door and stalked back out of his office as if nothing of note had taken place here. There was no telling right then and there what would happen next, as Soap's head was still reeling, but one thing was for certain: things were about to get interesting.

Tag list: @igotmajordaddyissues , @abbiesxox

[skitariiposting]

Skit's Mini Painting Journey Pt. 3

The Admech one.

C'mon, you all saw this one coming.

Back when I was painting my nurgles purple, I wanted to do a similar color scheme for my Admech army. I slowly moved away from it however, as I didn't quite like the way it turned out. The green and purple look took to Nurgle well, but purple Admech on desert planets didn't make a whole lot of sense. Didn't stop me from trying though, and while they certainly didn't look bad, I'm glad I didn't stick with it.

The Mars Pattern Family

This little fella may look familiar! Here was my first attempt at a more traditional mars pattern skit, and a jawa-esque one to boot! This was a kitbash of a proper galvanic rifle and backpack being added to The Makers Cult's Lil' Recruit.

I mean, Jawa admech is so amazing, but I had to have my little guy properly equipped!

Continuing the Mars linage is a technopriest and engiseer, both TMC printed minis. I love the way these two look. The face-shield on the technopriest looks amazing, and I'm incredibly proud of the reflection on it. The OSL on the hand isn't very visible in the picture, but it also looks really good.

This Thallax bot was supposed to be a Kastellan Bot for @elnubnub, however I got the two mixed up and picked the smaller one. I'm going to eventually remedy that, but he still looks good nonetheless.

This is by and large one of my best pieces in my opinion. Back when @cannibalcaprine had a bird face, this model was more applicable. Dominus Hera has so much soul and time put into her I don't know if I'll ever be able to replicate the state of mind I was in that let me get this mini to look this good. The cloth effects are fantastic, the OSL from the gun is fantastic, the molten axe is fantastic, the color choices and layout is fantastic, the cables are fantastic; I don't know who painted this mini, but it certainly wasn't me. It couldn't have been.

And the most important member of the Mars Pattern Family, the fan favorite: Goober. A kitbash gone wrong gone right. A broken mini finally becoming whole. The legend himself. What more is there to say?

Finally: The Submechanicum

Penelope, the Ocean Queen. My first model I painted for the Submechanicus. I'd love to say that this is my magnum opus, considering I made a whole video about her and everything...

However, I must rip the band aid off and say that this is the first version of Penelope...

Because what immediately followed her was this beast. This is the Krabaphron, another contender for one of my best models. This sucker was so genre defining, that it set a new standard for the rest of my Submechanicus army and would cause me to re-do my color-scheme and paint job planning going forward.

I based all of my future Submechanicus models off of it, using it as a template. The Skits and Techpriest both got the same treatment and I've got to say, I'm in love with the way it looks. I've continued using this style so far and I haven't had to make many modifications.

As such, Penelope... didn't quite fit the bill anymore. She stood out from the rest of the models.

So... after a livestream of planning and base layering...

She was finally given the paint job she deserved.

And that's just were our story begins fair traveler... With the rise of the Depth Guard, a proper protector of the Submechanicus will be needed to combat the forces of Nurgle... And coming late April, there will be such a machine surfacing, with a video to present it.

Of course, this is quite an older photo. It's far more painted than that. I've teased photos of it so far, however I'm saving the proper display of it for the video, so be on the look out if you want to see the completed product!

And that's about it! Hope you've enjoyed this little walk down memory lane and gallery of my mini painting endeavors! I'll be making a website for easier viewing once I've gone through and gotten some more professional looking pictures done. Thank you for reading and viewing!

-Jerry

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.4 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: Chapter Four. Jake has questions. The answer grows more complicated by the minute. He has a lot of thoughts on your situation.

Warnings: talks of abortion / decision to get an abortion. We’re pro-choice over here. This is an accidental pregnancy fic. Lying. Bickering. Reader being very conflicted and Jake being oblivious. Friends to lovers. Country-Singer!Jake au.

…

“So, who’s the father?”

“You don’t know him.” This feels like a strange place to be having this conversation. Your warped, horizontal view of Jake’s face doesn’t hinder the focus on his features, all scrunched with focus. This argument isn’t one that will be over quickly. Your best friend is like a dog with a bone when it comes to wanting more information out of you — you should have dropped this bombshell on him in a place with an easier escape route.

“I know everyone that you know, Sunny — who’s the father?” Jake presses, turning you onto your back without even touching you. Just his proximity as he leans closer and stares furiously at your face makes you shrink backward into the sheets. He’s crowding over you, awkwardly sticking you to the bed. He hasn’t exactly got you pinned down, but he’s in the way of you moving, and he knows it.

“It doesn’t matter.” You sigh, turning your head from him. His cologne fills your nostrils and confuses your senses. Strong scents are about as offensive as something can be to you these days but all you want at the same time is to bury your face into his neck.

The last time he was on top of you was at the Darkstar. The night all of this mess started. You wish you remembered more of it. The only thing you really remember, is how good he felt.

But your moment of remembrance is over the second that Jake opens his mouth again. Now that you’re both grown up, it’s easy to forget how much the two of you bickered as kids, and how Jake used to get under your skin back then.

“Why are you lying? — Is it Rooster? — Did you fuck Rooster?” Jake’s fingers are electric as he grabs hold of your forearm to keep you from retreating any further. Instantly, he’s that same little boy who knew exactly how to get under your skin, and you’re the same girl who knew how to make him cry for his mommy.

You’ve never torn away from his touch as quickly as you do now. Your face changes and both of your hands fly up from beside your sides, shoving hard at the faded graphic tee covering his chest before he has even had a chance to register the disgusted look on your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, or even touching you, or even bracing his own weight properly — he falls back easily.

He tumbles, the mattress and himself both making unanimous sounds of complaint. Already, he’s opening his mouth and getting ready to argue with you, his nose all wrinkled up and his eyes narrowed seriously.

“No, I didn’t fuck Rooster!” You’re over him in an instant, pointing one of those red, gelled nails in his face like he’s a dog who pissed on the carpet. Up until now, you didn’t realize that you were angry with Jake. Maybe you haven’t been all along, but you’re so angry now that it feels like you could have been burning mad at him since the two of you left the bar that morning.

He’s the one who didn’t wear a condom, he knows you’re not on birth control. But you’re the idiot who fucked him without one and didn’t even try to get a plan B. You know Jake by now, he’s exactly the same as he was when he was a teenager; couldn’t pull out of driveway let alone a pretty girl.

“I fucked a loser from back home. Thanks for the reminder.” Both of your hands come down hard and shove at his shoulders again, the worn mattress dipping under his weight while he stares up at you, still bewildered by how easily you just shoved him onto his back. The words would be more cutting if he knew you were talking about him.

Jake almost reaches for your arm again, but doesn’t. He bunches the faded blue, dated florals of the sheets into his fists and just watches you stand up. His decision to give you some space is quickly overturned; he still doesn’t have his answer.

“Tell me his name.” Jake follows you up and reaches you in one stride. He’s not going to let it go any time soon. This time, when his hand touches the small of your back, it’s more gentle. An apology, without really having to say it. “Please, Sunny. I just want to know that you’re going to be alright.”

Fuck. Your lie is catching up to you minutes in. Your heartbeat is thudding through your arms and legs and you just know that your little bundle of joy is going to have you puking again in no time.

“Ethan.” You then slowly to face him.

“Ethan Oaks? — The cop?” Jake gawks. You shake your head weakly. Jake knows you wouldn’t touch that bully with a ten foot pole. It’s got to be at least believable if you’re going to drag a third person into your web of lies, it’s got to be someone who you would have potentially still slept with. Jake’s eyes go wide and round, cat-like almost. “You fucked ET?”

No, you haven’t fucked Ethan Thorne — affectionately known as ET, both because of his name and because of his obsession with the extraterrestrial. But, you did give him a handjob in high school and Jake knows that. Jake saw it. You know Jake remembers how you had wrestled him to the ground in the hallway of that house party and sworn him to silence all those years ago.

You’ve known Ethan almost as long as you’ve known Jake. He’s a dirty blonde, exceptionally tall, bean-pole kind of skinny guy who always treated you like you were heaven sent.

“You fucked ET?” Jake’s voice only grows louder and more wild, his eyes narrowing in absolute disbelief. You take a step back, extending the distance between you and rubbing awkwardly at your temple. “When? — How? — Why?”

“I was bored.” You answer him weakly. You’ve slept with worse men for stupider reasons. There isn’t much to do back in Driftwood when Jake’s busy. “You were working. You know he’s always had a crush on me.”

“Plenty of guys have crushes on you! You fucked ET!” Jake rants, following you with each step back you take. He’s about to walk you right through the thin walls of this dusty motel. You lift your hand and poke a finger into his chest to keep him from following.

He stops.

Then, your hands push into your hair and the idea of throwing yourself on the ground and launching a full-blown, screaming, crying tantrum, is starting to look more appealing by the minute. You huff out a sigh, “Look, I don’t want to stand here and argue about all of the people we regret fucking, Jake. I don’t feel good.”

His eyes flicker downward, landing on your stomach like he’s expecting to see a difference. Like he’s expecting to be confronted with this thing that’s making you feel so awful, and screwing up all the fun you’re supposed to be having.

When he looks back up, you can tell he’s thinking the exact same thing he was before. You fucked Ethan Thorne. Really, his inner monologue focuses on the slightly deeper point of: you fucked Ethan Thorne, and you didn’t tell him about it.

Finally, he takes a step forwards and opens his arms, stretching them out towards you. You weakly shuffle closer. He wraps himself around you and closes his eyes. All too willingly, you fall into his olive-branch hug, resting your head against his chest and closing your eyes finally.

For a moment, it’s nice. Jake does exactly what you need him to. He just holds you. Your moment is done and gone far too quickly.

“You could tell everyone it’s mine.” He breathes out. Turning his face towards your neck, you feel his lips softly brush your skin. His fingers curl into the back of your t-shirt. He’s trying to imagine what you’ll look like in a few months from now, when there’s a big bump sitting between the two of you.

It doesn’t even require much thought; it’s one of the first things that crosses his mind. Everyone would believe it. Your mothers would be thrilled.

But just like that, you’re back to square one. You lied to get him out of the picture, and here he is, trying to claw himself back in. You close your eyes, pressing tighter into the fabric of his shirt and the smoky scent of his cologne.

“Jake—“

“I’m serious. I can take care of you, Sunny,” He sighs, arms flexing as he draws you closer again, leaving you with no choice but to turn your cheek against his chest. “My family love you. I love you. We could help you with him.

Him. God, he’s already picturing this. He’s making it real. How long could you really keep it to yourself? — Walking around Driftwood with a little boy, hoping that no one notices the way his smile is wide-stretching and dimpled, just like Mary-Lynn Seresin’s, or the way his wild laugh reminds them of the boys that used to tear through town all together.

“Jake.” You shove at him, all of your anger pooling together in the centre of your chest and stinging like your heart is on fire. It’s all got to go somewhere, and this time it rushes to your head. Your eyes burn, filling with too many tears to even attempt to hold back. “Stop it. I said it’s not yours.”

“But—“

“Drop it.” You spit back at him, your face burning with a sudden flush of accelerating anger. Your temper has sparked and Jake recognises the look in your eyes. Twenty years ago, that look was a clear warning that you were about to start screaming and pulling his hair. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“You’re so full of shit— you know I didn’t mean it like that,” With the two of you being so close, Jake has never come across anything he would be afraid of saying to you. He’s definitely not afraid of telling you when you’re pissing him off. “It’s not about money. You want to get stuck raising a kid with ET? — You don’t even like him.”

“I’m not raising anything with anybody!” You bite back, narrowing your eyes at him. He stares back at you. “This fucking thing has already ruined my life for like a week straight. I’m getting rid of it the first chance I get. Now drop it!”

There’s a quiet, a clarity to your face that has never been worth arguing with. Jake would never argue with you over this anyway. He wouldn’t tell you, but he’s glad. He hasn’t ever really thought about you having a family of your own; about the chair next to his at Thanksgiving suddenly being empty.

Still, your business is his business as far as he has always been concerned. With a softer expression than before, he lowers his head and makes an attempt at meeting your gaze. “Are you even going to call him? — You don’t think he deserves to at least know?”

“No, I don’t, Jake.” You answer back. “This is like getting a UTI. I’m going to see a doctor, I’m going to get it taken care of — and the sperm donor doesn’t ever need to know what he did.”

“Right.” Jake says quietly, thinking it over in his head. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he just can’t shake. He always wears a condom, always. But still, if there was a girl out there, who thought he didn’t need to know…

He shakes his head and reaches for you one last time. His fingers wrap around your forearm and give a soft, reconciliary squeeze. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

This time, you don’t wait for him to hug you. You throw yourself into his arms and with one hand on my the back of your neck and the other spreading around your waist, he drags you to him, gathering you against his chest.

His thick arms wrap around you as you sprawl into him, head tucked under his chin, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when Jake got so big. You still remember the days before he outgrew you. You don’t remember his hugs feeling different.

As he holds you, you focus onto the deep breaths he takes. His lungs filling and emptying, pushing and pulling you against him like the drag of the tide. His fingers stretch across your nape, brushing at the edges of your hairline.

“You know I just worry about you.” Jake mumbles, turning his face towards your hair. Eyes closed, he revels in the familiar smell of your shampoo. As far from home as he already is, this smell makes him feel like he’s right there again. Inhaling the scent of vanilla, you’re under his comforter and the two of you are sleeping into the late hours of the morning, waiting until his Mom calls you down for something to eat.

His fingers squeeze into your skin. He loves those mornings.

This doesn’t make you feel so sick anymore, now that you don’t have to look him in the eye. It’s easy enough to pretend that none of this is happening, and that this won’t change anything. You prod the tip of your index finger into his stomach, trying to lift the mood, “That’s not your job. I’m supposed to worry about you, remember?”

You promised his mom, right before you left, that you’d take good care of her boy. She had smiled knowingly, and shot you a quick wink, knowing that you have always been two strides ahead of Jake in all of the trouble that the two of you have gotten into over the years. Not this time. You won’t drag him into this.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your turn.” He scoffs into your temple, squeezing his arms tighter and hearing you moan in complaint against his shoulder. Quickly, it crosses his mind that he should be more gentle with you in your condition. Then, he wonders if that would upset you too. You wrap your arms around your waist and sigh. He stays as he is.

Maybe it’s not the right thing to ask. He hasn’t ever thought about how he should speak to a pregnant woman, or what they might want to do. But he knows you. He knows that if he lets you, you’ll sit here all night, staring at these four walls and driving yourself crazy.

“Mickey wants to drive down to that bar in town, shoot some pool. You feelin’ up to comin’ with us?” He asks softly.

And an hour later, you’re a couple miles down that long, empty stretch of road, perched on a stool and wincing as Bob almost pockets the white ball once again. This would be the third time. Luckily, Jake sticks his hand out and catches the ball before it dips into the hole.

“Alright, Floyd — that’s it, you’re done.” Dropping the ball back onto the table, Jake twists his cap backwards and sticks his hand out for the cue, shaking his head in disappointment.

Natasha is laughing as she pats Bob on the back, Bob is watching the ground with the cutest little schoolboy blush spread across his cheeks. Rueben is in the bathroom, Javy’s thrilled that he now has Jake as a game partner instead of Bob, Mickey’s intermittently watching the baseball game on the screen to his left. Rooster’s leaning over the bar, telling the pretty little bartender everything she’s ever wanted to hear a man with pretty brown eyes like his say.

None of them are looking at you.

Even if you’re sipping on root beer, it’s nice to feel this normal again. Even if you’re tired, and sluggish, and not entirely sure that you’re not that far from vomiting. The smell of overfilled drip trays and cheap cologne, and the ensemble of background noise makes it all that little bit better.

“Watch and learn, Bobby Boy.” Jake swaggers, showing off just the one-dimple with his crooked smirk as he leans over, lines up and shoots. The white ball crashes into a numbered blue one, sending that one uniformly into the pocket. With that, Jake stands up straight again, turns and shoots Bob a quick wink.

To most, this is arrogance. From an outside perspective, Jake sometimes comes across as provocative — and he can be. He doesn’t shy away from looking someone in their eyes. He’s confident, and straight to the point. That has rubbed a lot of people the wrong way over the years, including the people on this tour. Every single person here has threatened Jake at least once. Sometimes he just needs to be put in his place.

However, there’s a look on Bob’s face as Jake lines up to take his next shot that Jake would be thrilled to see, if he was watching. Bob’s standing now with one elbow leaned against a high table, his lips are twisted into an almost awkward frown. He doesn’t have it in him to glare with those big, baby-blue eyes, but if he did he would be.

When Bob steps up to the table to take his next turn, he’ll know that Jake will be waiting to poke fun and swoop in again. He won’t miss the shot. That’s what Jake wants.

You wish he would go about it differently, but you know that growing up with a father like Bill Seresin teaches a person a lesson or two about tough love. There are worse things than to want the people around you to succeed, you suppose.

“Thinkin’ hard?” Rueben is back from the bathroom, and draping one of his heavy arms around your shoulders. He’s even bigger than Rooster, broad and a classic kind of handsome. You’ve been tempted once or twice to ask him to work security, but you just wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if that pretty face got all messed up.

“Hardly thinkin’.” You answer back, smiling as you bring the root beer to your lips. He doesn’t know that you’re pregnant. None of them know that it’s Jake’s. You prefer it that way. Soon enough, this will be something you look back on, shudder, and try to forget.

Rueben hums an amused sound from behind you, turning his head. You keep looking forward at the pool table even though you can feel him studying your face, trying to figure you out.

Looking at the big guy, you wouldn’t have guessed that he basically ran Driftwood’s community theatre through his teens. He looks like he should have been the quarterback. Instead, he was the lead in Shakespeare’s greatest hits for six years running. That was before he became a roadie — after that big break-up a couple years ago.

It’s easier for him this way. Flying under the radar suits him. Though, you’ve never seen someone perfect Othello quite as well as Rueben.

“You’re doin’ alright, though, right?” He asks.

“Peachy.” Finally, you grace him with your gaze. He smiles, not believing you in the slightest. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, glances down at the soft drink in your hand, and untangles himself from you.

“Just checking.”

“Sunny,” Jake calls to you. He offers the cue towards you, then nods his head towards the scrabble of balls on the table. “You’re up, buttercup.”

There’s a coolness to you know that Jake hasn’t seen in days. Two steps and you’ve reached him, taken the cue and turned to survey the table. Jake picks up his beer and settles comfortably against the wall behind him. He gulps down a third of the drink at once, watching the way you bend at the waist and line up your shot.

When you stand up again, after sinking the exact ball you had aimed for, you turn around to find that Jake isn’t smiling. He isn’t taunting you, he’s not happy for you, he’s just staring at you with that same look on his face as earlier.

He’s thinking about Ethan Thorne, who’s probably still sitting in his room playing that geeky game about elves right now. Thinking of Ethan’s clammy hands on you. Thinking about the look on your face when you had been talking to Rueben just then.

Finally, he finds it in himself to offer you a hint of a smile. Then, he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a big gulp.

Maybe you could blame the fetus. You’ve been blaming it for a lot recently. Whatever it is, you don’t realise that Jake is even gone until the group of you are pouring out of that back roads bar at two in the morning. There’s a grin on your face, and a warm flush to your cheeks, and even as the only one sober, you’ve had a blast.

“Where’d Jake go?”

“Rooster’s peeling him off the floor in the men’s room.” Bob tells you, his boots kicking through the gravel as he buckles his belt back up with uncoordinated fingers, swaying slightly side to side.

“The — huh? — I just saw him.” You frown, slowing down and turning to check.

Sure enough, Rooster’s holding Jake under his arms and the two of them look like they’re trying to perform a risky cheerleading manouver. Jake’s fighting back. Every step that Rooster takes, the two of them are almost tripping on each other, and with the way Jake’s shoving at his shoulders and face, the poor guy can barely see.

Still, Rooster manages to wrestle him into the car. Past that, the big oaf is all your responsibility.

You wince, barely through the door of the motel when Jake wobbles forward and tumbles.

“Woah — oh, fuck.” Jake huffs out. His cheek smushes into the sheet under him and briefly, you think about just leaving him there, laying sideways along that uncomfortable motel bed. Then, he calls for you. First, quietly, just a breath into the room.

After, he calls you once again, more urgently this time.

“Quit yelling, I’m here.” You remind him, pressing you knee unsteadily into the mattress and smoothing your palm along the length of his back. “Kick your boots off.”

With a small exhale, Jake’s brows draw together in focus as he follows your instruction. His boots land haphazardly into the dated carpet, his hands dig under himself to find his belt buckle. The process of undressing him is a shared task, but he winds up with his head on the pillow and most of his clothes on the floor by the end of it.

“C’mere.” He doesn’t open his eyes or even gesture for you, he just speaks his request into the ether and hopes that you’re feeling kind enough to grant his wish.

“We’ve got a long couple days ahead, I don’t want to be up all night with you twitching next to me.” You frown at him. His mouth twitches and he gives a sincere shake of his head.

“I won’t. C’mere, Sunny girl. Please.” He hums out, lifting one arm finally. His hair is fluffy and messed from being tucked under that ages old baseball cap. The slow stretch into summer hasn’t yet started to darken his freckles, which means pink still sits as the most prominent colour across his flushed cheeks, and blonde stubble is settling across his jaw.

“You’re such a baby, you know that?” You scoff. Doesn’t matter that you’re mocking him; he’s smiling. He hears your jeans rattle to the floor and knows your shirt will follow, but his arms reach for you from the second that the bed dips with your weight anyway.

Stretching around your waist, tucking around your middle, he confirms that you’re sleeping in his t-shirt and buries his nose into the curve of your neck.

Baby. The word fills his intoxicated mind, and his hands follow. His open palms stretch, warm, across your stomach. You stare at the far wall, studying a disturbed patch in the paint. A quick fix job. The air conditioning whirs. You swear you can hear Jake’s ever-steady heartbeat outloud.

Why isn’t his heart thudding the way yours is?

“You’d make a good mom one day.” Jake says quietly. His thumb trails from your bellybutton down to the waistband of your cotton underwear. There’s no intent there, he’s just touching you, and it’s okay, because it’s Jake.

Your hand finds his, fingers linking together and resting there against skin that’s still entirely yours. Not stretched to accommodate someone new. Exactly the way you want it to be still. You squeeze his hand, “Go to sleep, Jake.”

“I think you should tell ET.” He adds, his voice growing gruffer as sleep comes from him. If you answer, it’ll just keep him up. “I’d… wanna know. If it was mine.”

Five seconds pass, and that becomes ten. You’ve counted to sixty before Jake’s hand relaxes in yours and his weight presses heavier into your back. He’s not really holding you, he’s just got himself all tangled around you. It’s easy enough to turn around in his arms, press your face into the warmth of his bare chest, and finally breathe.

“Night, Jake.” You whisper softly, lips grazing his skin.

At 10am the next morning, Jake’s still in that exact spot, sleeping off his hangover ahead of tonight’s show. You’re a couple of miles west, laying on a cold bench in a doctor’s office. Mickey Garcia is sitting in the waiting room, especially hungover. They told you that you would need someone to drive you home.

Mickey glances towards the clock on the wall and realizes that it’s broken. There’s also a dead fly wedged under the hour hand. Exhaling, he leans his head back and closes his eyes. If this hurries up, he might be able to make McDonald’s breakfast — he’s rarely up in time for that.

He hasn’t been waiting long, he doesn’t know how long exactly abortions take, but when you kick his ankle and startle him to attention, he figures that it can’t have been long enough.

Standing there in front of him, Mickey realizes he has never seen you crying before today. It’s unnerving.

“You… want me to call Jake…?”

“Why the fuck would you call Jake?” You bark back at him. The other three women in the waiting room all look up at you towering over his poor curly-haired kid, in hysterics yourself.

“… Because he’s your best friend?” Mickey frowns at you, wide-eyed. He has seen you sprinting away from an angry bull before but you’ve never looked this level of crazy. That receptionist to his left probably has a panic button under her desk. Subliminally, Mickey urges her to press it. “Did you… do it?”

“No.” Your voice cracks and Mickey’s eyes grow wider.

He wants to know. He should have just kept his mouth shut, and this would all be fixed by now, but he told you that he would want to know. Laying back against that chair and begrudgingly glancing over at that screen, seeing the garbled mass of grey on the ultrasound— all you could think of was Jake wanting to know.

The decision is yours, and it will be. But he just wants to know. You slept last night with your head on his chest, but woke up this morning all turned around with his palm securely on your stomach once again.

He would never have lied to you. Not about something this big. You shouldn’t have lied to him. Especially not if you were never going to keep it.

“So… are you going back in?” Mickey interrupts your train of thought.

“No.” You answer him weakly. You’ll try again another time. Once you figure out how to tell Jake that you wouldn’t let Ethan Thorne touch you with a ten foot pole — and that you’ve been so busy with his damn tour, he’s the only guy you’ve actually had sex with in months.

It’s yours. I’m not keeping it. Six words — can’t be that complicated to just spit out. Tonight’s Colorado show is sold out. Afterwards, Jake is going to be on an all-time high. All you need to do is get him alone, and explain what this kid would do to his career, explain why you lied. He’d get it.

Just a couple more days like this, and then your life goes back to normal.

…

Tags: taglist: @fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @ahoyyharrington @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @springholland @kidd3ath @kissmecaiti @swiftsgirlfriend @emma8895eb

[achaotichuman]

Acotar Rant

I actually think Elain being selfish and manipulative is a very interesting character flaw for her. It clashes with what she tries to project which is an image of perfection, loveliness and kindness.

Thing is, she isn't inherently kind. She isn't merciful or innocent. She killed a man with zero hesitation. We have no idea how she even got across the fucking battlefield, you don't think she struggled to get there??? She purposefully set out to murder a man and it didn't so much as affect her later from what we can see. She doesn't show mercy.

When people talk about Elain killing Hybern, no one ever brings up how fucking out of character that would be for her in their version of her. Just, so many people are like "Elain should get credit tooo!!!!" and then their version of Elain is the perfect, kind flower girl who can do no wrong. Like, no, if you want her to get credit you have to acknowledge that was pretty cold-blooded, and its perfectly in character for canon.

Consider how Feyre reacted to killing Hybern soldiers in Summer. She vomited her guts up and felt guilt even though they were the enemy. Elain doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.

She is selfish. Compare her actions to Nesta's throughout the entirety of ACOWAR, Nesta is out there trying to help purely out of the kindness of her heart, and Elain fucks off, because she doesn't want to.

She lets everyone baby her, she packs Nesta's things and doesn't utter a single word when the IC locks her up, even though Nesta would have taken a knife to Rhysand's throat if he dared do the same to Elain.

And its not that she feels threatened by the IC, and this evident for when she cries and says 'Nesta isn't trying' and allows herself to their manipulative device to force Nesta into scrying.

Elain is not stupid, that's quite obvious. She's shown herself to be observant and intelligent, so I doubt she was unaware of the NC using her. She knew, and she actively allows it.

I use the wording 'she lets', because I think for Elain. Instead of having the same rhetoric of her being a defenseless child who cannot think for herself, she actively has to work against bad habits and built in tendencies.

She clearly WANTS to express an image of perfection and kindness, even though her natural inclination seems to skew to the negative.

To have a perfect character is to not have a character at all. There's no growth or journey, and for Elain, she'll always side with the person that's most likely to give her the outcome she wants the most.

She wants to be left alone? She lets the IC baby her.

She wants nothing to do with Lucien? She sticks by Feyre (who routinely sees her and Azriel as a better couple.)

Now I don't think she is a mastermind or actively working for an evil cause, I just think she is naturally drawn to selfish desires even at the expense of others.

And this would make her so so interesting. She's not perfect, the projection of her image is by design, it's not the 'real' Elain, she's a bit shitty. It makes her more *human*, it makes her less of a cardboard cut out. Now we have actually have a path of growth laid out. It involves deciding between continuing down a line of chasing fleeting happiness and materialistic desires drawn out but the former future she had promised as a human, or actively working towards being the person she truly aspires to be. That truly kind and gentle soul.

Elain has a very empty character, and I will tell you that it was a choice to make her like that. It makes her so much easier for SJM to write, because she is malleable, SJM can turn her into anything she pleases later on. So, my arguing that Elain is inherently selfish is mute because despite the actual actions of Elain's character, SJM will not reflect on them as foreshadowing, Elain is like this because making her do anything of value would deprive SJM of her writing freedom while writing her. Because she would actually have to stick to whats already been set up, even a little.

What I actually think will happen, is Elain will be Rhysand 2.0

She'll do things that are inherently bad, but get away with them because 'shes perfect and can do no wrong.' Thats how SJM writes, and she'll either make Lucien a shitty person along with it, or make Lucien Elain's bitch who will simply become an empty character to slap beside Elain.

Anyway, regardless of potential, Elain will be like the rest of the lot. She has to be to fit in with SJM's brand.

This is not an incredibly deep dive into my thoughts on Elain. I have a lot more, but this is a pretty good generalization of them all. If SJM is not a coward, she will make Elain selfish and have her recognize that.

She lets everyone baby her

I would also like to reinforce, I use the word 'lets' here because Elain does not fight against the constant infantalisation even though it's clear as day, because she wants the image of being perfect. And I can go on and on about how thats probably the result of her childhood and being the middle sibling often comes with trying to get the attention of your parental figure when usually it will be cast on the eldest and youngest. But y'all ask if you want that deep dive.

Kaaaaaay bye

[msgexymunson]

Kickstart My Heart

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Description: Eddie's taken aback when someone makes a bigger scene in the cafeteria than him. Maybe he's finally met his match?

Warnings: Mostly fluff, smidge of angst, very very slight smut (making out/slight grinding) mentions of drug use, use of y/n twice (I try to avoid it if at all poss) use of pet names (princess/sweetheart etc) Reader has curly hair and a back tattoo and I'm totally projecting I'm fully aware.

A/N: Honestly I keep seeing Eddie with cheerleaders and I respectfully disagree. I wanted him to meet someone with similar interests and also wanted to see how he could deal with someone being a bit of a dom as well. I'm not 100% on this but it's been sitting in my notes forever. I'm thinking this would be a good mini series so let me know in the comments/reblogs if you like it enough for that! Edit, Part 2 now out!

5.2k words

Masterlist Part 2 Here

Eddie lounges on the bench in the cafeteria, his legs draped either side, tapping a tattoo on the floor with his feet. He was laying back, magazine in hand, reading out choice paragraphs to his followers, the Hellfire club. And anyone else who might be listening. "....see, they don't even realise how much of a joke they actually are!" Eddie flourishes the magazine and starts rolling it into a tube, mock conducting with his hands, pointing at the more popular kids in the hall.

The boys at the table nod make agreeable noises, knowing it's easier to just let Eddie continue when he's like this; but then something catches Dustin's eye.

"See? I told you Mike, she does go here." Hitting him on the arm.

"Where? Where?"

"Right there, walking in, that's the girl." Dustin stares at the doorway, transfixed.

Eddie laughs, still laying there.

"Don't tell me your losing your mind over a girl Henderson."

"I heard she just got out of Juvie. She showed up in my science class and threw a drink over Jimmy Clayton." Gareth pipes up, following Dustin's gaze.

"I saw her at the arcade wrecking it on Galactic Warriors."

"You should talk to her Dustin!" Mike laughed.

"Screw that, she's a senior and she's scary dude."

Eddie, now annoyed at the lack of attention, jumps up onto the seat, standing on it, knocking the gang out of their spell. "Hey sheep, this is reality calling!" He shouts to them in a sing song voice, bonking Dustin on the head with the magazine, then turns and looks around the room trying to find who they are talking about.

He doesn't have to wait long. A commotion starts two tables away, and the prettiest girl Eddie has ever seen is facing off with Jason Carver.

Long, messy curls adorn her head, wearing a faded Anthrax t shirt tied at the waist, nipping it in, and tight jeans, a wry smile on her lips.

"Get out of my face, freak!" Jason sneers at her.

"You just tried to grope me, now you don't like me sweetheart?" She shouts sarcastically back at him. She leans forward then sticks her middle finger up right in Jason's face.

Eddie has frozen, standing on his seat, mouth slightly open, magazine hanging from his hand, forgotten.

The girl starts to back away. As soon as she turns her back Jason mutters loudly, "as if anyone wants to touch you slut."

Eddie's about to jump off the chair, a fire lit in his stomach. But before that can happen, the girl spins around, and in one smooth, almost dance like motion, pulls her sneaker off her foot and throws it straight into Jason's face. Jason looks furious, his face bright red. The girl smiles, takes a bow, and just leaves the hall. Without her shoe.

Eddie is in love, he's sure of it. It's a peculiar, foreign feeling. He's warm all over. A flush begins to creep up his neck. A flutter in his stomach, mouth dry, head fuzzy. He watches those curls bounce off until the door shuts.

"Eddie! Earth to Eddie!"

He shakes his head to get a grip on reality, and realises oh yeah, I'm Eddie.

"What?" He jumps down to the floor, trying to act nonchalant.

"What was that about losing my mind over a girl?" Dustin grins at him.

Eddie's composure breaks for a second, then smiles back, with that signature Eddie grin. "That, my friend, is not a girl, that is a force of nature."

A shriek distracts him for a second. Someone had grabbed the sneaker and flung it at their friend, sending a drink flying. Another student grabs it with a look of disdain and flings it over their shoulder. Eddie watches it land on the floor a few feet away.

A smile parades across his face. He flings the magazine at Dustin and bounds over and grabs the shoe, then races back and grabs his battered metal lunch box in the other hand.

Dustin groans. "Oh shit Eddie, no, no!"

Eddie grins and winks at Dustin with a glint in his eye.

"Eddie, come on, you cant go after her." Mike rolls his eyes.

"And why not?"

"Because! Because she's basically you!"

"Mike's right, the universe might implode. Or you'll end up in prison." Dustin says, knowing its hopeless.

Eddie laughs. "Well now I gotta find out." He spreads his arms wide, sneaker in one hand, box in the other. "I bid you adieu," and leans into a low bow, turning to leave the room.

After a few minutes of searching and feeling embarrassed, Eddie's annoyed. No one should take up this much space inside his head so fast. You had captivated him and it was a wholly new experience. He'd had crushes on girls before, fleeting things, but this was different. He felt a burning in his chest that he'd never felt before. He decides the best thing to do is to get some air, have a smoke and chill out. There wasn't much left of lunch break after all.

He starts to walk over to his usual spot in the woods, inspecting the shoe in his hand in the process, turning it over and over. It's small, even for a girls sneaker, and about as dirty as his own. There's marks on the white leather, and scribbles and drawings on it in ballpoint pen. He sees 'Iron Maiden' in spiky letters across the side and his heart leaps. Oh come on, get it together Munson, you getting all excited over a shoe?

*******************

What a grade A prick you think to yourself as you lay on the picnic table in the woods that another senior told you about, smoking a cigarette.

You were seriously thinking this is a bad idea, coming back to Hawkins. You hadn't been here since Middle School and the crowds hadn't exactly improved. First that pervert in Chemistry tried to put his arm around you, now some basketball playing entitled dick gropes you in the lunch line.

You try to lay still and calm down, but your fingers were pulling at the hole on the thigh of your jeans, unravelling it more, your leg restlessly shaking.

Eddie approaches the clearing cautiously,  surprised to see someone on the table. Then his heart swells. It's her. She's laying on the table, curls spilling over the edge, one knee up and legs slightly apart, one socked foot dangling off the table. She looks so peaceful, and slightly vulnerable. Eddie suddenly feels a twitch in his pants, really Munson?

"You lose something?"

You look up, slightly startled, to this very pretty boy with messy brown hair, standing there grinning sheepishly, waving your shoe in the air.

"Only my mind." You say back, sitting up.

"Oh, is this isn't yours?" He smirks at you, a glint in his eye. His very familiar eyes. You take in his figure. Leather jacket, band t shirt and black jeans. He's lean, and tall, and handsome.

"Now that, that I didn't lose. I ejected it. With force."

He laughs loudly at that and moves towards you, holding the shoe out. You reach for it and he pulls it away, a cheeky smile on his face.

"So you want your homemade missile back or...?"

In response you stick your socked foot out to him. He seems surprised at this small but bold movement. He puts down the lunchbox he's holding and undoes the knotted laces, then slides the sneaker onto your foot.

"What do you know, it fits!" You giggle at him which makes his face light up.

"So what's your name?" He says tying your laces.

"Cinder-fucking-rella."

He grins at you, still holding your foot. You take a last drag of your cigarette and look him in the eye. There's a moment when you both look at each other, a heat in the air.

"Gonna need that back." You motion to your foot. He lets go and puts his hands up in mock submission, smug smile on his face. You jump off the table and start to make your way back to school.

"Hey- wait!"

"See you around Prince Charming." You say over your shoulder.

"See you princess." Is his quiet response.

Eddie's standing there, for the second time today, staring at your curls bounce, watching you leave.

*******************

Oh my God its Eddie Munson. You think to yourself, grinning now your back is turned, a flush creeping up your cheeks. You cannot believe it. He was the year above in Middle School and you crushed on him, hard. You nearly didn't recognise him with long hair but he smiled at you and it clicked and you nearly melted right then and there. God, since you'd been held back a year after the chaos that is your life you were sure you'd never see him again, at least at school. He must have been held back two years.

Eddie Munson. He looked good. Real good. And you just left. But he had looked so smug and sure of himself and you never like to do what people expect. Practically skipping to class, you kept saying his name in your head. Eddie Munson. You grin to yourself. Maybe this year wont be so bad.

*******************

"Late again Mr Munson?"

"Only so we can have these chats Mrs O'Donnell"

"Thin ice young man. Take a seat."

Eddie flops down in his chair, and leans back. Its last period, and his concentration is elsewhere. Chin resting in his hand, he thinks about the brief encounter with, well, with her yesterday. Whatever her name is. The princess. He smiles to himself. Not many people can surprise him. Why did she just run off though? He thought their chat was going well.

Halfway through the lesson, he feels something on the back of his head. Then again. Turning round, he sees her. Smirk on her face, balling up a strip of paper. He grins, then runs his hand through his hair, sending an avalanche of little white balls to the floor like snowflakes. She laughs silently, banging her hand against her mouth to be quiet, and looks at him with glee. Eddie's heart is about to burst, looking at her joyful face. Lost in her eyes for a second, he remembers his 'thin ice' and whips his head back round to the front. Coast is clear.

She taps him on the back, he glances round and she waves a folded piece of paper. He looks back to the front but holds his hand out behind him to take it. She presses the note into his palm with warm fingers.

Taking the note, he unfurls it with deft movements:

Meet me after class Mr Munson.

He composes himself for a moment, his stomach somersaulting, a wide smile just itching to spread across his face. So, was he right, did she like him? He turns his head briefly to flash her a lopsided grin and a nod.

The bell rings. There was the general scuffle, chair screeches and chatter that a accompanies the end of a lesson. Eddie leapt up and nearly ran to the door, hearing a soft giggle behind him.

*******************

Look at him, he's practically skipping you laugh to yourself. Seems a shame to mess with him. You were going to mess with him though. Only a little. It's not every day your childhood crush seems to like you back.

"Hey princess." Giving you a goofy grin. "Hey" you beam back, tilting your head to one side. "Can we go to the bench, I need to ask you something."

"Er sure?" He looks happy, but confused, searching your face for answers. You whip your head around and start walking briskly. He hops to try and keep up with you. I could get used to this, Eddie Munson trailing behind me.

He catches up, and you have a chat about music, passing the time. Turns out you have pretty similar taste. He points out your Anthrax t shirt from yesterday and you talk about Iron Maiden, Ozzie, Dio, Metallica. He waves his arms in the air and bounces, so excitable, like a child. You make it to the bench and you take a seat, hands steepled in front of you, pulling a serious face.

He hops down and sits opposite, head cocked to one side, giving you his full attention. God he's handsome. That hair falling around his face, those full lips, those eyes that seem to stare into your soul and beyond. Even his neck is attractive. You realise you are staring, a cough clearing your throat.

"I hear good things about you Munson."

"Well you cant be talking to most of Hawkins then, I'm a Satan worshipping weirdo!" He opens his mouth wide, sticks out his tongue and wrinkles his nose up at you. Look at that tongue.

You stare at him in mock horror, your hand flying to your mouth.

"Really, do you sacrifice virgins?"

"I would if I could find one." He winks at you.

You laugh then, so hard you snort a little, then your cheeks blush pink.  Eddie revels in the slight drop in your guard.

"Wow princess, that was really something." He smirks at you.

"Damnit Munson, stop with the 'princess!'"

"Well what am I supposed to call you, you wont tell me your name sweetheart."

Something about the way he called you sweetheart stirred something between your legs. You rubbed your thighs together briefly. It was a great feeling, but it also annoyed you a little. You hated being out of control, and you felt a flash of, wait was that fear? He'd caught you off guard. You were supposed to be catching him off guard. You smile at him lazily.

"Well maybe you need to earn it." You winked at him.

"Ah I see how it is. Hmmm. Well, what did you want from me then, dragging me into the woods."

You reach over and grab his hand, lean closer. The warmth of his hand contrasts with the cool feel of his rings brushing your palm. "I hear you can help a girl out." You say to him breathily.

Eddie's eyebrows raise so high that they disappear into his hair and a flush appears on his cheeks. You smirk at him.

"Word is your the school's supplier. Or am I wrong?" You bat your eyelashes at him.

He nods in understanding and for a second, looks a little deflated. "Well you ain't wrong sweetheart." He grabs his metal lunchbox and plants it on the table, giving you the sell.

You agree to half an ounce, and you are sure he gives you more than that, not that you are complaining. He holds it out and you go to grab it, but he snatches it away at the last minute, grinning at you. 

"Come on Munson!" You say to him, mock pouting.

"It comes at a price."

"Oh yeah? I just gave that to you!"

"Something else. I gotta know your name." His eyes near bore into your soul.

"I told you. Cinderella."

"Very funny princess. I tell you what, we can make a deal. You come to the Hideout tomorrow night, and listen to my band. Then we can forget the name. For now."

Smooth Munson.

"Maybe I will then."

"Ah ah ah princess, you gotta. Comes with the deal you see. You need to promise."

"Fine. Cross my heart. I'll come see your band."

His grin damn near splits his face apart. "I promise you sweetheart, with your discerning taste? You're gonna love it."

*******************

Eddie gets ready for the gig tonight, backstage, standing in the mirror. Maybe he spends a little extra time on his hair. So what? He's playing a gig. Nothing at all to with her. He wondered who he was trying to kid. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of her. His mind just kept wandering. She was gorgeous and feisty and everything he could ever want. It takes a lot for him to focus on the moment. He steps out, guitar in hand, and takes a deep breath. Starts playing, and searching the very small audience. She's not here.

First song of the set down, then the second. Eddie's starting to give up, glancing at the door, when a familiar head of curls bounces through. She's here. She's just late. Eddie laughed to himself. Like Mike said, it was very Eddie of her. She sauntered over to the bar and got the attention of the server immediately, tossing her head back and smiling. Eddie felt a hotness creep into his chest, almost as if he was jealous. It was only after ordering a drink she hopped onto a bar stool, turned and looked at him, legs seductively crossed. She's fucking beautiful. Her hair seemed neater, she had clearly styled it somehow, but the curls still fell around her face. Her dress was figure hugging and black, a zip running right down the front. Her curves took his breath away. Eddie couldn't help but wonder if the whole dress came undone if you pulled that zip. He nearly faltered in his playing thinking about it. Another song down and then another, then one of the waitresses came over to him, beer in hand.

"A beer from Cinderella?" She said, pointing at her. Eddie laughed, of course she would send a drink over. Shit, do I like her because she's like me? His band finish the set, and he downs half the beer. Taking a deep breath, he moves his way into the audience.

*******************

Ok he's coming over, act natural. You try to look like you are looking the other way, then start to inspect your fingernails. Eddie stands in front of you, and you look up into those deep brown eyes of his. It takes your breath away.

"Why if it isn't Van Halen, I'm you're biggest fan" you say breathily, a smirk on your face. I'm not done playing with you yet Munson.

Eddie smirks at you, "looks like you decided to turn up after all princess."

"Well, you know, I kinda promised this guy."

"This guy must be impressive if you're coming here to this dive just to see him."

"What can I say, he's got a bit of an ego but he looks damn sexy when he plays the guitar."

Eddie nearly falters, seeing you bat your eyelashes at him. He looks so cute when he's not so sure of himself. Then he takes a different tact, pointing at the beer in your hand "aren't you a minor sweetheart?"

"Aren't you Munson?"

"Well, they don't know that " another Eddie wink.

"Don't know about me either. I told the bartender I'm 35."

Eddie laughs at this, for once feeling out of his depth.

"What are you, 17, 18?'

"Try 19 Munson." He looks at you quizzically. "Yes it's not just you that's been held back."

"How do you know about that?" Shit nearly gave it away.

"Everyone knows, you're famous Eddie."

"So, you gonna actually tell me how you know that, and how you know my full name sweetheart?"

You scrunch your face a little, realising you never said his first name before. Got a little too carried away with the game you had been playing. Shouldn't have called him Van Halen either. Seems like the right time to confess. Well, here goes nothing. You take a deep breath, your heart in your throat.

"I know you Eddie Munson. I went to middle school with you. You were in the year above. My names y/n l/n."

Eddie's eyes widen. He looks at you, really looks at you. Then the words you never thought you would hear come out of his mouth.

"Shit, y/n, I remember you. You were always running around with those nerds, you wore glasses all the time. I remember you getting pulled from school!"

"And how the fuck would you remember that?" You said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Well, I remember, I remember the talent show. When you sang in front of the whole school. Hotel California. I never expected it, no one did. You were really good."

You blush a deep crimson, annoyed at your vulnerability. Eddie doesn't seem to notice, just looking over your shoulder, remembering.

"Shit I remember hearing you sing, then having to go on with my band near straight after, feeling like we weren't gonna be shit compared to that."

You blush red to the roots of your hair. "Well, your bands really good, really good Munson..  I was just, you know, karaoke singing..."

"No, honest, I thought you were amazing." He grins at you, fingers tapping on the bar next to you. That Eddie grin makes you want to melt into a puddle. Weren't you supposed to be teasing him?

You stare into those eyes. Those big, beautiful brown eyes and realise something. Maybe you had been wrong about Eddie. You strip that bravado back, that fake confidence, and he is just a kid. An overexcited, vulnerable, kid. Just like you.

He's looking at you, staring at you with those eyes of his, and you need to do something before you are his, right here and right now. You turn to the bar and wave at the bar tender. "Two tequilas, please." As you flash a comfortable smile. The bartender catches your gaze and pours out two shots, smiling at you and raising his eyebrows at Eddie. You take your shot in hand, staring at Eddie, and down the shot. You swallow with barely a flinch, waiting to see his reaction.

"You're gonna be the death of me sweetheart." He grins, then takes his shot the same way.

"You wanna get out of here?"

**************************************

I'm the luckiest guy in the world. Eddie gazes at you, your cheeks flushed, laying on his couch, your feet resting on his lap. Listening to the metal music Eddie had put on, curled up on the couch. You had been joking and chatting for an hour or so and he just felt so comfortable around you. You seemed to have the same sense of humor as him, laughing at all his jokes. It seemed a far cry from the way you had reacted to him before, building walls up. He thought it was nice to see you as you, without defences.

"So, you want a beer, or you ready to sing for me."

"Not on your damned life Munson, though I'll take that beer."

Eddie laughs and gets up, lifting your feet softly to one side, and grabs two beers, opening them by the fridge.

"So, why wouldn't you tell me your name before." Eddie asks, his head to one side, intrigued.

'Because Munson, it was fun messing with you." You smirk back at Eddie, but there's a blush to your cheeks that makes him think you weren't being honest with him.

You continue, "a lot of people know things, or think they know why I left. I just didn't want you to judge me before you knew me."

"As a victim of judgement I can safely say I know what you mean." Eddie brings his hands up, indicating to himself. He hands you a beer which you place on the table, and he does the same. He sits next to you, close, head turned towards you. 

Damn she's intoxicating. Eddie coughs, and looks into your eyes. You smile back at him, his eyes drawn to your lips.

Come on Munson, kiss me already.

You both sit, mulling in this hot silence, looking at each other, flushed cheeks and beating hearts. It's almost a stand off, each waiting for the other to make a move. You lick your lips and try and build up that confidence that you had before. Reaching out, you hold your hand to his jaw line, gently rubbing your thumb down it, coming to rest on his chin. He moves forward, expectantly, and you take that as a sign. You lean towards him, your breath on his lips, as your hand snakes into his hair. Your noses touch, the tip of your nose rubbing just to the side of his, as your lips ever so lightly graze, sending shivers of sensation through you. His mouth opens slightly, and you both press your lips to the other, tongues touching, softly, hesitantly. Your mouths open more, tongues reaching out, exploring each others mouths leisurely, deeply. His hands reach out to hold you at the hips, pulling you closer. You pull at his hair slightly and he moans into you. You break apart, both panting slightly, and stare into each others eyes. You see those soulful dark eyes pouring out feeling to you, and you know that he has stolen your heart forever.

Eddie breaks the silence. He grins and chuckles at you, "Now that was intense."

You're breathless, wordless for once, biting your lip. "Eddie..." you manage and he smirks at you. You press your lips to his again hungrily, urgently. His hands grip your hips, and you crawl into his lap, swinging one leg over so you're straddling him. His hands massage into you, and both of your hands end up in his hair, tugging at it. You are both kissing almost violently, and you break away so you can breathe. You rock your hips forward, feeling how hard he was getting through his jeans. He takes a sharp breath at that, his hands moving lower to grab your ass, grinding you into him again. You moan low into your throat, throwing your head back.

"Jesus princess you're so fucking hot." He manages to say, his voice so low and rough its almost a growl.

You lean forward again, pulling him into another fervent kiss, tongues clashing, hips bucking. He groans and bites your lip. Grabbing you by the hips he suddenly stands up and you throw your arms around his neck for balance, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, never stopping the urgent flow of hot kisses.

He throws you on the bed and climbs on top of you, then seems to remember himself. "Sorry, you just.. you do things to me."

"You drive me wild Eddie Munson" you grin back at him. "But maybe we should, you know, take it easy. I like you, I really like you, but I mean, you barely know me."

"Not true, I know you from middle school, remember? That's years." He winks at you, then flops down next to you, on his side "Seriously though, whatever you want. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

You could have cried at that. His face turned to you, that look of concern on his face, his brows slightly furrowed, it melted your heart. You hold a hand to his cheek.

"I'm not saying I don't want to, you know. I'm just saying not yet. I do want to, I just, want to take my time with you Mr Munson."

He grinned at you, stroking your side.

"I've wanted you since your shoe connected with Jason's face."

You laughed out loud at that, he smiled at you, enjoying how much he could make you laugh. He pulled you in for another kiss, less urgent but still passionate, long and deep, like you had all the time in the world. The rest of the universe melted away, it was just you and him, wrapped in each others arms.

"Can I stay? Is that OK?" You stare in his eyes.

"Princess you're not going anywhere as long as I can help it."

"I meant for tonight, like sleep here." You poke him playfully in the ribs.

"Sure! Tonight, tomorrow, maybe the next one.." you giggle at that.

"Hold on let me grab you something" he jumps up and leaves the room. You hear the music stop and a small cry.

You sit up, as he walks back into the room, looking dejected.

"Eddie what's wrong?"

He looks at you with a miserable face, throws his hands in the air "we forgot the beers!!" He falls to the floor on his knees in mock anguish. You chuckle at his theatrics.

"You're an idiot Eddie Munson." You throw a pillow at him. He grabs it in the air and throws it back.

"What the hell was I doing? Oh yeah" He throws a faded black band t shirt to you. "To sleep in."

You get up with your back to him as Eddie sits on the edge of the bed.

"So yeah if you wanna just go to the bathroom you can change..."  he stops mid sentence.

You had started to unzip your dress, letting it fall to the ground, uncovering your back. You have a tattoo that covers your back, huge, black, bat like wings. Your black, lacy matching underwear is on display. Still with your back to him, you unhook your bra, and that falls too. You slip the t shirt over your head, it's big on you and reaches just to the tops of your thighs. Ok that was mean.

You turn around and look at Eddie's face. "What?" You smirk.

Eddie's broken. He's staring at you, beetroot red face, mouth hanging open, unable to speak.

"Holy shit.. You- you're... you've got...erm, wow." Eddie is speechless for once. "Cool tattoo." He manages to stutter out.

You smile at him sweetly. "Thank you."

"Jesus y/n that was really mean" He says, regaining some composure and pulling you roughly towards him. You laugh, throwing your head back, and his lips find your throat, kissing and sucking your neck. You let out a whimper, he feels so good against your skin.

"You've made me really hard, I hope you realise that you devil woman." He keeps kissing but he's digging his fingers into your ribs, tickling you. You giggle and squirm, enjoying the effect you seem to have on him.

"Sorry, I know, I'm an awful tease. Someone really needs to teach me a lesson."

"Oh just you wait princess. I'm totally getting you back for that."

"I look forward to it Munson." You wink at him.

Getting ready for bed, you grab your bag from the living room, and make your way to the bathroom. You come back to the bedroom with your hair piled up in a bun. Eddie's in his boxers, laying on the bed. His lean figure is relaxed, a smattering of tattoos cover his torso and arms. Your gaze settles on them, unable to take your eyes off him, and drifts down to the rather clear outline of his hardness in his boxers. Now he certainly looks impressive you think to yourself, your mind wandering.

"What's on your mind sweetheart?" He smiles at you smugly.

"Nothing" you say a little quickly. He chuckles. You're enjoying this, the to and fro between you to, even if you had lost that one. He seems to be enjoying it too, his eyes were twinkling, dark pools staring at you.

You join him in bed, under the sheets, wrapping around each other, impossibly close. He kisses you softly on the forehead. "Goodnight princess."

You smile to yourself in the dark, thinking how lucky you are, to be in Eddie's arms.

@eddiesprincess86

[cheriladycl01]

The Deeper Connection - Zhou Guanyu x ChildhoodBestfriend! Reader

Plot: You made friends with Zhou when he first came to the UK to pursue his driving career, and you were like two pee's in a pod. When he reaches F1 and life gets busy for the both of you he finds solitude in your childhood hideout.

A/N: I haven't been that active lately with finals coming up, however I'm still trying to post regularly!

You'd grown up in Sheffield all your life, you lived in a very nice home and came from a pretty well off family. With a dad in oversea real estate and your mum as a business owner and entrepreneur in the UK you wouldn't ever have to ask for anything twice.

The trouble was that you tried out so many hobbies and none of them really tended to stick.

Ballet when you were at three, didn't work with zero hand to eye coordination.

Horse-riding when you were five, didn't work after you got bored with how slowly you were being taught to ride.

Acting school when you were seven, didn't work when you were bullied for only being there because of mummy and daddies money. This completely made you loose your passion for it.

Swimming when you were eight, which you had to stop because of a medical condition with the cold water in the winters and your body temperature not mixing well.

Space camp when you were nine, didn't work because you were bored where you already knew everything they talked to you about because it was a special interest of yours.

Pottery when you were ten, whenever something broke you got really disappointed and sad with yourself and eventually it became something you only did every now and then to avoid burnout.

Gymnastics when you were eleven, didn't work after getting bored within the first weeks and it taking up too much time.

You were 12 when you met Zhou Guanyu, he moved into a house down your road in the gated woodland community of large and wealthy farm homes and mansions.

You guys became close almost straight away, you'd spend every night in the treehouse that his dad built him when they first moved in. But he wasn't always around, some weekends you'd knock on his door and no-one but the maid would answer explaining that the family weren't around.

She'd let you into the house, where you'd wait for him in either his bedroom or out in the treehouse. Sometimes he wouldn't come back until 10pm, and you'd be curled up on his beanbag in his room, asleep and his parents would have to call yours suggesting yet another sleepover.

After 3 years of knowing him, you found out where he'd been going and why he was home schooled just like you. He would kart, but now he'd got into Italian Formula 4 and he wouldn't be home as much.

You'd cried begging him not to go, Zhou really was your only friend and even though it had only been three years of friendship you'd attached yourself to him insanely quickly.

Not that he minded of course.

Your managed to go see one race with him, it was in Monza and he'd won it all. And that weekend he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes, as a two giddy sixteen year olds and went on from there.

The distance got easier when he was in the European Formula 3 championship in 2016. You being 17 weren't actually allowed to make your own choices yet, but the minute you turned 18, 5 months after Zhou, you were following him around to each race.

At this stage taking a gap year before you were due to go to university was better for you, and Zhou. In 2018, he got the news he'd be going to Formula 2 for the 2019 and you'd been accepted to Oxford.

For that first year you made it work. You visited him at races when you had breaks from university and he would come stay with you in your small uni accommodation in the off season or when he had longer breaks into between races.

But when 2020 rolled around, and you were forced to be separated by the growth of COVID-19 your relationship fizzled out. You pushed and pushed trying to keep the sparks there but one day, Zhou phoned you explaining that he couldn't do it anymore.

You'd cried so much that day, and you'd never felt more alone. The only place you thought to go that was safe was the tree house, you could get there through the side gate and you knew Zhou's parents were in China on business only leaving the maid there.

So that's what you did, you laid there curled up in a blanket Zhou brought you, crying until it got darked and you started to scare yourself looking into the dark woods.

When you were younger and you thought you heard or saw something in the woods, Zhou would hold you close explaining to you it was just your imagination and you'd immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

You left the treehouse that night getting on the last train you could think off back to Oxford.

Zhou continued in F2 in 2021, but got progressively more busy when competing in a small stint of the Winter F3 Asian Championship, of course you kept up to date with him.

You loved the boy and you didn't ever think you'd stop.

When the announcement of his promotion into F1 happened you cried happy and sad tears. Happy he'd achieved his dream, but ultimately sad he was in the big leagues now and he would definitely have no time for you.

He had a phenomenal first year and you watched every single race, even getting up at absurd hours to watch him. You cheered him on all the time and would get anxious whenever you had to stop or DNF.

Silverstone with the Russell incident was the worst. You parents had to hold you tightly as you cried seeing just how bad the crash was. Seeing George run over to his flipped over car that he couldn't get out of and a red flag being called.

You ran out the house going straight to the treehouse. His parents watched as the 22 year old climbed up the old rickety ladder, bag in hand and red bloodshot eyes.

They knew you'd seen his crash and you wanted some space.

What did shock them was the fact that you consistently came back every night for a few weeks.

It was a warmer night and you still had your blanket but there wasn't a need for a hoodie when you first came out. You were just laying there on the wooden planks looking out of the little skylight in the breaking wooden roof at the stars.

"Hey" a voice says softly making you turn to the ladder.

"Zhou?!" you explain sitting up quickly looking at him. Not that you hadn't seen him on Instagram or in his post race interviews but he'd grown into his face. He was as handsome as ever.

"Mmmmm" he sighs, almost in a grunt sort of way. He comes next to you and lays down, not coming to close scared that you'll leave if he pushes to close.

"Your star is up there tonight" he says raising his hand and pointing to the brightest star between the tree line. He'd named it your star when you'd spend the first night out here.

"How's it been, travelling round the world?" you ask softly turning to look at him, laying on your side. He turns onto his as well to also look at you.

"Lonely" he whispers with a sigh, pushing some of you hair behind your ear making you hold you breath as his fingers brush along the side of you face and down to your lips before recoiling his hand back.

"But your so busy and round people all the time!" you argue confused as to why he would ever feel lonely.

"I think sometimes even though I'm surrounded by people, they aren't people that get me... you know?" he asks turning onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"I think i feel the opposite" you laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his gaze not wavering from the sky.

"I feel like i have absolutely no-one around me, but everyone i do bump into can see right through me" you sigh, having struggled at work recently as a graduate and new employee, working from home.

"Seems like we both are out of our comfort zones then" he offers with a sigh.

"Mmmmm i did have my comfort zone at one point" you say, it came out pointedly which you didn't intend.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking over at you again.

"Yeah it was you. I don't think I've ever experienced a connection like I have... had with you" you sigh.

"Had, you don't feel that way anymore?" he asks with a sad frown, that makes a frown of you own appear.

"You broke up with me in one of the loneliest periods in my life, It's always just been you Zhou, I've never had anyone else and then you were just gone ... I- you broke me and took a part with you" you sniffle, not sure how else to describe the heartbreak you were feeling.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would splinter all over and someone would come along and patch it back up until it healed.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would completely shatter and all the pieces are spread out and someone has to come along and pick up all of those pieces and puzzle them back together.

Some people have their heart broken, where it again completely shatters but the culprit takes a piece of that heart with them so that if theirs a time when someone else does come around and fix it it's never fully fixed, beating but never full.

And Zhou had that piece of your heart and no-one had put back the remaining parts of your heart, you'd gradually started to do it yourself but it was proving to be a long process.

"I-" he starts but chokes on his words.

"I think, I'll always love you Zhou Guanyu..." you whisper sitting up, your hair loosely falling over your shoulder.

"I know I'll always love you. And I want to take back everything I did! I need you in my life!" he says looking over you, making you look down.

"You cant take it back Zhou..." you start before looking up seeing his teary expression. "But i think we could start again. I don't want my heart back, it's yours to take... all of it forever. Your only going to be it!" you smile, knowing this was your chance to have him back.

He was your soulmate you were sure of it.

He leans up and pulls you into a kiss.

"I promise from here on out, I'll never leave you again again!"

Taglist:

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[buggybambi]

So glad you're back!! Would you ever consider writing for Carmy x Richie's younger sister again?? I had an idea (if you want to write it, please dont overwhelm yourself) where reader and Carmen are fighting while reader is pregnant with their first baby and Carmen says something kinda mean to her and then she goes into laboro unexpectedly?! And seeing how Richie would react to that and be so defensive of his little sister 🥹

hi love! hope this is okay :) | fem!reader, mentions of a hospital, nicu stay/labor

You know he didn't mean it. Calling you stupid for showing up to the Bear that day when there was tools laying about, too many unknown people being around. He was just a worried soon-to-be dad, but that didn't make it easier.

Carmen was always protective over you, and now that you two had a baby on the way, it heightened. He was already on edge with the amount of repairs being done that day in the Bear, and the hazardous scene the restaraunt was in. He was just stressed out and took it out on you, like an idiot.

You didn't stick around to hear his apology after the words slipped out of his mouth. "Why are you being so difficult about this!? Showing up here was fucking stupid of you!" Nat took you outside to get you both away from each other, give you both some space to breathe. You could hear Carmen leave the restaraunt, disappearing to who knows where.

You sigh as you lean against the fence outside, gripping it with one hand. "He didn't mean it, it's just- there's been a lot happening today. Like a lot. Our fridge guy couldn't come and then a health inspection." Nat tried to explain. You were barely listening as your eyes squeezed shut. The pain in your abdomen and back you'd been briefly experiencing for the past few minutes had subsided as you let out an exhale. Syd stepped out at the same time.

"Hey, woah, you alright?" She asks. "Yeah, yeah sorry. Just Braxton Hicks. They just haven't been this intense." You answer. Syd stares at you both before clearing her throat. "I think your water just broke." She says.

You stare at her for a second, almost laughing. "Funny, Syd, but this isn't the time-" You look down and realize she's right. Your water just broke. "No, no, no it's too soon. We don't.. Carmen has to be here. You say, your voice filled with panic.

"Honey, I don't think you have a choice. Let's go to the hospital, okay? Syd, call Richie and Carmen, tell them to meet us at Chicago West." Nat takes your hand, helping you walk around the corner to her car, where she proceeds to break more then a few traffic laws.

"Who the fuck are you to talk to my sister like that?" Richie demands. The two were going back and forth after Carmen got back to the restaraunt. "Richie, I'm not fucking doing this with you right now." Carmen argues.

Syd walks in, exhaling. "Do either of you check your phones?!" She asks. "I don't know, he's a dumbass." Richie comments as Carmen rolls his eyes.

"Mine's.." Carmen frantically searches his pockets. "It must be in my office. What's the matter?" He asks. Syd frowns. "Y/n went into labor outside, Nat took her to Chicago West. I've been trying to call you to get you there before you miss the birth."

Carmen's already out the door by the time she finishes talking.

────

"If Carmen misses this, I'm going to kill him." Nat comments as she puts a pillow under your back for support. You sigh, laying back. The room is mostly quiet, except for the beeping of equipment. Monitoring your heartrate, your baby's heartrate, your contractions. It feels surreal to watch them increase and decrease with spikes on the monitor.

"He won't miss this. He'll be here." You say, your voice laced with doubt. You knew if Sydney had gotten ahold of Carmen, he'd be speeding to the hospital. Your doctor had been trying to push back your labor as much as she can, but you knew you were about to start pushing soon.

"I really hope you're right. I'm gonna go get you more ice chips." She says, stepping out of the room. You stare at the heartbeat monitors before you hear a small knock on the door. You turn to find Carmen in the doorway. "Hi." He says softly.

You smile. "Hey. Nice of you to drop by." You say, waiting for him to come over to you. When he doesn't immediately, you hold your hand out for him. He practically runs, taking it. "I'm so sorry. For not being here and for what I said. I shouldn't have- you didn't deserve that."

You shake your head. "Carm, you're here now. I'm glad you are. I love your sister but she is not a good birthing coach." She comments as he laughs.

He presses a kiss to your head. "I'm here now." He says. You squeeze his hand lightly. "I know you are, Carmy." Nat smiles as she returns. "Good, you get to live. Here are your ice chips. Best of luck." She wishes, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You smile. "Thanks for being so helpful, Nat."

────

Within the next half hour, your baby boy was in the world. Laying on your chest, his tiny hand wrapped around Carmen's finger. "He's so perfect." Carmen whispers, his voice filled with such fondness.

You two decided on a name: Theodore "Teddy" Berzatto. He was perfect to you two. Your own little boy, your son.

Richie and the rest of the staff came by the hospital. You swooned over your big brother getting to hold your little boy. "He looks just like dad." Richie admits quietly. You nod. "He does. Looks like dad and Mikey." Carmen agrees.

Your son couldn't have been surrounded with more love.

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 24

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 7k

Chapter rating: NSFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, SMUT

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3

Chapter 24: I'm Still Angry

On the first night, you’d drowned your thoughts in a haze of alcohol, seeking refuge in the oblivion it promised. On the second night, you’d danced with reckless abandon, losing yourself in the rhythmic pulse of the music until memories blurred into nothingness. And on the third night, exhaustion had claimed you, pulling you into a deep slumber that offered respite from the chaos of your mind… until the sound of music beckoned you to start the whole ritual once again.

Outside, the storm raged on, its fury unabated by the passage of time. But within the cozy confines of the tavern, the tempestuous winds and torrential rain faded into the background, drowned out by the lively chatter and infectious laughter of its patrons. In the warm glow of the lanterns, you found solace from the relentless onslaught of the elements and your thoughts. 

You hadn't returned to the ship in over a week, your stubbornness fueling your determination to stay away. The idiot could fall on Yokubari and fucking go to hell, for all you cared, or so you kept on telling yourself. During this time, Nami had visited the tavern on a few occasions, indulging in a drink or two while checking up on you. Initially, concern had etched lines of worry on her face, evident in the way she probed for details about what had transpired between you and the swordsman. But when you remained unwilling to talk, she had simply sighed in resignation, accepting your silence with a weary understanding. She assured you that they would come to fetch you before they set sail again.

"So, what's your poison tonight?" The question cut through the din of the tavern, drawing your attention back to the present moment. Leaning against the worn wood of the bar, you regarded the boy with a half-smile, appreciating his easy charm and friendly demeanor.

He had been a constant presence over the past few days, a willing partner in the impromptu dance sessions that had become a nightly ritual. Together, you had spun and laughed, losing yourselves in the music and the fleeting moments of joy it brought. He was flirty but not pushy, making him perfect for whatever you were trying to achieve with this temper tantrum of yours.

With a playful glint in his eyes, he awaited your response, his expression a curious blend of anticipation and amusement. "I think I'll stick to water tonight," you confessed with a chuckle, your voice tinged with a hint of ruefulness. "I'm still feeling the aftermath of those drinking games from last night."

The boy laughed lightly, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his gaze as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. His flirty attempt was clunky, unpracticed. "Water it is then," he murmured, his tone playful yet colored with a sliver of disappointment. "But don't think you can escape me that easily. We've got some dancing to do, remember?" 

You tossed your head back at his awkward charm, laughing heartily. Goodness, he never gave up. As you watched your dance partner come back with your drink, you noticed how he faltered in his step, how he blanched a little as he glanced over your shoulder. 

You didn’t even need to look to guess what had unsettled the boy so, but still you stared at the swordsman effectively looming over you.

Oh.

He was angry.

Your eyes traveled from his face to the swords at his side, landing on Yokubari, still strapped at his waist. You scowled, the blazing anger within you refueled at the sight. The urge to throttle him still unbelievably strong. Didn’t matter, two could play this game, your own fury not to be underestimated.

With a scoff, you turned away from him, dismissing his presence with a wave of your hand. “I don’t feel like talking to you, swordsman,” you said flatly, your voice dripping with disdain as you refused to give him any more of your attention.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the boy, sensing the tension between you and Zoro, hesitated in his approach. His easy smile faltered, replaced by a nervous unease as he quickly retreated, eager to avoid becoming collateral damage in whatever confrontation was brewing between the two of you.

Smart boy. You’d do the same if you were in his place.

Sighing, you leaned against the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s attention with a practiced gesture. The need for an actual drink abruptly urgent. “You didn’t have to chase him away like that,” you admonished, your tone thick with irritation. “He was a perfectly fine dance partner.” 

Silence answered you as you heard the subtle shift of cloth and clink of swords behind you as he matched your movements.

When the bartender inevitably ignored you too, suddenly engrossed in polishing a glass, you turned to face him. “What do you want?” you snapped, your expression a mask of defiance, resolute to not let him ruin your night.

His frown deepened, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firm grip that bordered on possessive. “We’re going back to the ship,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You paused there for an instant, eyes narrowing as you studied his features. “No,” you decided as you wrenched your hand free from his grasp and strode purposefully towards the dance floor, determined to assert your independence in the face of his domineering shit of an attitude.

You sensed Zoro's presence trailing behind you for a moment, his looming shadow casting a palpable weight in the midst of his annoyance, then not anymore. Ignoring his silent disapproval, you surrendered to the pulsating rhythm of the music, allowing it to guide your movements to the center of the crowd with instinctive grace. Drawn into the embrace of a stranger, you yielded to the seductive sway of the tune, granting the man’s touch to travel sensually along the curves of your body.

With each spin and turn, the stranger's hands ventured boldly, taunting the fabric of your shirt upwards to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of bare skin. He twirled you around, allowing your back to fall against his chest, as his fingers roamed in a slow, teasing display. 

On any other day, you would have slapped the inquisitive touch away but on this night the nerve of his exploration served the audacity of your actions. You met the swordsman’s stare with a lidded gaze. Was that fury you saw flashing in his eye? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Whatever it was that twisting up his pretty face, it felt like a victory. 

With a wicked grin, you yielded into the stranger's touch, inviting the tension to mount between you and the swordsman with each passing moment. You thrived on the satisfaction. The air hummed with unspoken defiance, a silent dare for Zoro to break his stoic façade.

The stranger's touch ventured further, his hand gliding from your stomach to your chest, his palm flat as he pressed against the fabric of your shirt before encircling your throat with a gentle yet possessive hold. Tilting your head back against his shoulder, you maintained eye contact with the swordsman, relishing the simmering intensity in his furious stare.

As the tension between you reached a crescendo, you observed with satisfaction as Zoro's hand tightened around the hilt of one of his swords, his knuckles whitening with the strength of his grip. The air crackled with anticipation, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken challenge that hung between you like a tautly drawn bowstring.

With a subtle shift in your stance, you silently dared Zoro to make a move. The stranger's touch remained a seductive invitation, a quiet provocation that dared the swordsman to act on his impulses.

And then, the tension shattered like glass.

With a swift, fluid motion, Zoro's hand inched away from the hilt of his sword, his steps carrying him across the crowded floor in a determined stride. Ignoring the curious glances of the tavern's patrons, he closed the distance between you with purpose, his gaze never leaving yours.

As he reached you, he grabbed your arm firmly but not roughly, pulling you away from the stranger's embrace with a possessiveness that left no room for argument. The stranger's hand fell from your throat, his expression a mix of surprise and resignation as he watched the swordsman stake his claim.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you shouted at him as you followed his lead.

Without a word, Zoro led you away from the pulsating rhythm of the dance floor, his grip tightening as he guided you through the maze of tables and chairs. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, the weight of his silent declaration hanging heavily between you.

As you emerged into the cool night air, the storm still raging overhead, the wind tousled your hair, rain slowly drenching your clothes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You shouted again, planting your feet down, obstinate anger filling you, refusing to budge.

Zoro’s expression remained flat; his jaw clenched in stubborn determination. “We’re going back to the ship,” he stated firmly.

You scoffed incredulously; the sound drowned out by the howling wind. “Like hell we are,” you retorted, your noncompliance unyielding. “I’m not going anywhere with you, swordsman.”

For a moment, the two of you stood locked in a silent standoff, the rain pouring down around you like a curtain of defiance. The tension crackled in the air, thick with unspoken words.

Fuck, he was stunning. You hated to admit it, but you’d missed him. Your eyes surveyed his face, taking in the scowl on his lips, the intensity of his gaze.

He moved with swift determination, pinning you against the slick brick wall. The freezing rain seeped through your already soaked clothes, but you paid it no mind amidst the brewing confrontation.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” you snapped, glaring up at him, defiance flashing in your stare.

“You’re infuriating,” he growled, leaning in close, his breath mingling with yours in the damp air.

“I’m still angry,” you declared, your brows furrowing with stubborn resolve.

“So am I,” he admitted, his hand traveling up to cradle the nape of your neck.

“You have no business being angry at me, swordsman,” you retorted, your tone sharp with wrath.

Despite the intensity of the storm raging around you, the charged atmosphere between you and Zoro crackled with an energy of its own. His grip tightened slightly, fingers tangling in your hair, his gaze boring into yours with a mixture of frustration and longing.

“You always make it so damn difficult,” he muttered, his voice low and tinged with exasperation.

“Me?” you scoffed, index pushing repeatedly into his chest painfully. “You're the one wh—”

But before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed against yours in a fervent kiss, silencing your protest with a searing passion. At first, you froze, then you matched his intensity, finding yourself responding to his movements with an equal measure of neediness, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair roughly as you pulled him closer.

His fingers traveled under your shirt, his touch scorching hot against the coolness of wet skin. You backed off searching for breath. Your eyes met his, the hunger in his gaze made your knees want to buckle a definite want settling in your core.

Fuck.

With a firm push, you disentangled yourself from his embrace, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before he yielded to your lead. As he took a step back, your hand found the hem of his sleeve, a determined look in your eyes as you started to move, dragging him through the winding maze of alleyways. Each turn was swift and decisive, your footsteps echoing against the forming puddles in the dips of the cobblestones as you navigated the labyrinthine paths with resolute haste, your destination clear in your mind.

Without a word, you pushed open the heavy wooden door of the hotel you’d been staying at, the warmth of the lobby enveloping you in a stark contrast to the coldness of the outside rain. The flickering glow of the lanterns cast dancing shadows upon the walls as you beelined to your room.

The swordsman hovered over you, placing soft kisses on your neck as you fumbled to unlock the door.

The lock clicked. You entered. In the sanctuary of your room, his hands grew bolder in their exploration, your shirt dragging dangerously high, the hem of your short skirt catching on your hips in a barely decent display.

“Shit,” you mewled, one of your hands finding purchase on the flat surface before you, nails digging in the wood as you tried to lock the door behind you. “Just let me lock the door,” you begged as he nipped at your neck, licked your ear.

He ignored your pleas, his body melting against yours, trapping you more firmly against him. His hand traveled against your thigh, traced the soft flesh near your core, his hips catching into yours. Your forehead met the wood of the door as the pads of his fingers found your soaked underwear, tracing light circles.

You moaned. Mind feeling empty as a wave of pleasure coursed through your veins.

He brought your hips tighter against his as his touch became rougher. He deftly pushed aside the drenched fabric, pads meeting your slick. Everything felt more intense all of a sudden, the embers of ecstasy unmuted as he explored relentlessly. 

His name passed your lips in a high whine. He moaned against your ear, hips unwillingly bucking into yours. Fuck. You could feel how hard he was.

The lock finally clicked. You turned around. His lips found yours immediately in a primal urgency. 

“The bed’s right there,” you mewled, your words breathy.

He kissed your jaw, down your neck. “Don’t care,” he said as one of his hands pushed up your shirt, your bra, fingers tracing the curve of your breast, pinching almost tenderly at your nipple.

“We should wash up first,” you protested meekly, your fists bunching in the wet fabric of his overcoat, movements contradicting your objections.

“Don’t care,” he repeated breath mingling with yours. He bit at your lower lip, tongue darting in, exploring, demanding. 

You obliged, hands discovering his chest, never settling in one place.

As you broke away for air, he leaned back, his hungry gaze meeting yours. He smirked, taking in the want in your eyes, your bruised lips, the flush on your cheeks. He backed off a step, eye roaming over your body, searing in the image before him in his mind, the way your skirt was hiked up, the way the wet fabric of your shirt clung to your skin as you leaned against the door.

“Fuck,” he groaned. You were the very picture of depravity.

He fell to his knees, pressed a kiss on the front of your underwear as his hands traced up along your outer thighs. As his fingers curled against the lace of your panties, he looked up at you, a soft pause as he searched your features for any hint of hesitation. 

The crystal-clear need etched on your face gave him all the confirmation he needed. He trailed the thin piece of fabric down. It caught for a moment on your knee-high boot as you lifted one leg to help him out. 

Before you could put your foot down, his hand wrapped under your knee, bringing your leg over his shoulder. He leaned his head on your inner thigh, cheek against soft flesh before placing slow kisses, tender bites as he made his way toward your heat.

Your hands found purchase in his hair, pulling painfully on the unruly locks, nails digging into his scalp, backing him away. He looked up at you, a groan escaping him at the sensation. There was clear satisfaction in his gaze.

“Look at you, witch,” his voice was gruff, tick with lust. 

It sent a shiver down your spine, a moan out your lips. You felt some of your slick drip on your thigh, cool against flushed skin. Heat spread across your face at the reaction of your body.

“I’m still angry,” you whispered as he started moving closer, one of his hands exploring up and down your outer thigh, the other dragging your skirt higher, before dipping down, fingers tracing your slit.

His grin broke into a smile as he brought them to his mouth, the light glistening on their wetness. He made a show of licking them clean. Tongue swirling, sucking against the digits before his lips came back to your inner thigh.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line,” he apologized dangerously close to your core, his breath teasing, your legs feeling less and less steady as seconds passed. “Forgive me.”

You whined his name, a hopelessly needy sound. 

Finally, finally, he met your heat, giving you no time to adjust to the relentless rhythm of his onslaught. His tongue pressed against your clit as he devoured you with the hunger of a man deprived of water, each lick and suck a desperate quenching of his thirst.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, the world feeling like a hazy dream in between the waves of pleasure threatening to drown you. Your fingers tightened in the unruly locks, nails digging into the flesh at his nape as your hips bucked unwittingly.

He moaned against you, the muffled sound sending electric shocks through you. His hold on your thigh increased, anchoring you solidly against his shoulder as his nails left crescent marks in the plush flesh. His other hand went to your core, lifting the hood of your clit slightly as he redoubled his efforts. 

Your eyes shot open at the sensation, breath catching in your throat. It was all too much, the pleasure cascading over your mind too sharp. One of your hands snapped away from his hair, clamping over your mouth, muffling the high-pitched scream that passed your lips. The back of your head hit the wood behind you loudly, the pain barely registering. 

Your gaze met his, you sensed the satisfied smirk gracing his lips more than you saw it. He moved away from your clit, exploring. His tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers taking on the bundle of nerves instead.

You were about to come, your vision starting to feel overexposed, everything swirling around you. You tried to warn him, your words incoherent.

He maintained his rhythm, allowing you to tip over the edge, white overflowing your senses.

He continued tirelessly, your thigh trembling against his shoulder. You attempted to pry him off, but he remained doggedly obstinate in his ministrations.

You bit down painfully on your palm as your mind wrestled to keep up with the overstimulation. Your breath hitched and struggled with every inhale and exhale. 

“Too much,” you begged, voice high, the sound muffled by your hand as a second orgasm coursed through you, tears threatening to flood your eyes.

He stopped then, waiting for your grip to loosen in his hair before coming back up. His chin was covered in your arousal. He pried your hand away from your mouth, pressing a soft kiss on the teeth marks etched in your skin before his lips found yours.

His movements were slow at first, allowing your mind to catch up. Then his tongue met yours in a forceful dance, the taste of your slick flooding your mouth.

Your knees buckled. Your fists bunched in his overcoat in an attempt to steady yourself but you still felt your back start to drag down against the door, your legs unable to keep you up.

His hands went behind your thighs, pulling you in his arms effortlessly. You melted in his chest, limbs uncooperative before he deposited you onto the bed.

As your back sank into the softness of the mattress, your eyes landed on the swordsman skillfully maneuvering one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Shoes,” you muttered as your gaze went to your boots. 

He grumbled a curse under his breath, bringing your other leg to his shoulder so both feet were next to one another. “Always so fucking demanding,” he complained, words barely audible as with one hand he tugged at the laces of your boots, the other going to your cunt, two fingers entering your heat.

The squelching sound of your arousal as he fingered you was obscene. Lazy whimpers escaped you as they easily slipped in and out, the hazy feeling in your mind delightful. He suddenly curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, eliciting a loud moan out of you, the promise of rapture starting to edge at your vision once more.

“Zoro,” you begged between moans, his name flowing out of your lips again and again, a deprived chant.

He finished loosening the laces of the first boot, taking it off roughly and throwing it back without care. You dimly heard it hit something but it barely reached the edge of your mind, your attention entirely focused on the shifts of his fingers.

The pad of his thumb met your clit gently, teasing as he started unlacing the second boot.

You bucked under his touch, walls fluttering against his fingers. 

His hand moved against the laces with sudden urgency, tugging harder and faster with each pull as he hurried through the process. 

The second boot joined the other. You whined in protest as he left your heat. He opened your legs, settling himself between them.

You pushed yourself to your elbows, then sitting as you took off your shirt, your bra. Your bodies almost touched in the position, your legs draped over his thighs, warmth radiating from your skin, melting into his own.  

You leaned back slightly, his gaze unabashedly took in the sight. His fingers skillfully unknotted the cords holding the swords at his side. There was a loud clang as they fell to the floor forgotten, his overcoat and stomach band following suit with urgency. 

His hands grazed up your thighs, nails digging in and sending shivers to your core. He leaned in, his lips hovering ever so close over yours.

Your hand palmed his hard-on through the fabric of his pants. You looked up at him, pupils blown in desire.

The moan that escaped him was pure lust, primal as his breath mixed with yours.

It stirred something in you. You ached to see him writhe under your touch, hear that moan again, make him whimper.

“Let me return the favor,” you demanded, fingers moving up and down, groping before inching towards the waistband of his pants.

His hand intercepted yours roughly. “Not today,” he kissed your jaw, down your throat. “Can’t wait,” he muttered after giving your nipple a flick with his tongue.

He pushed you down, your back meeting the mattress in a small bounce. You rolled your hips against his, your arousal leaving a wet spot on the front of his pants. You felt his canine graze your breast as he relished the feeling, followed by a soft bite and his tongue as he sucked and marked.

“Then just fuck me already, swordsman,” you demanded. 

He smirked against your skin. “So needy,” he remarked, pulling back, his hands departing from you as he undid his pants, his aching cock meeting your stomach.

He moved one of your legs expertly to his shoulder, fingers finding the scar near your ankle, tenderly tracing circles against it. Your other leg instinctively wrapped around his hip.

His gaze was filled with lust as he met yours. You felt the tip of his cock against your entrance. His lips went to the white line marking your skin in a soft kiss as he started sinking into you.

You whimpered as he dragged in further, the pace tortuously slow. Your fingers tangled in the sheets in ecstasy. The stretch was overwhelming, intoxicating.

“Fuck,” he moaned against your skin, biting down on the flesh above your ankle, leaving small red marks behind. “So fucking tight.”

You tried to roll your hips, take him in quicker but his hand stopped the movement, stilling you in a bruising hold.

By the time he was fully sheathed inside you, you were breathing hard, your walls already fluttering against him. He gave a tentative thrust, nails digging into the plushness of your hips before he dragged a hand to your lower stomach, increasing the pressure as he filled you oh so well.

He was so deep, it almost made your eyes roll. You could feel your breasts bounce with every slow thrust. For a moment you saw him admire the view but his gaze inevitably returned to your face as he relished each twitch of pleasure passing your features far more than anything else. 

There was a furrow on his brow as he searched for something, his hand moving your leg, opening you up, trying to find a certain angle. You let out a sharp cry as a particular thrust made you see stars.

“Zoro,” you whined, one of your hands extending towards him, “fuck,” he was just out of reach, you wanted to touch him so bad. You let your hand fall, instead joining his for an instant on your stomach.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He slid out to the tip and slammed back in, his pace increasing now that he had found what he was searching for.

Your hand fell back to the covers at the intensity of his movements, knuckles white as you gripped the sheets. His palm roamed up from your stomach, roughly groping as he leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, his breath mingling with yours suddenly. His fingers settled on your neck, then your jaw as he bit your lower lip, and kissed you hard. 

As he pulled back, his gaze blown with lust followed the strand of saliva connecting the two of you. “How long I’ve been wanting to do this?” he passed his thumb harshly on your reddened lips. “Just so you know, I’m only starting, witch.”

A smirk danced on your features at the boldness of his words, a chuckle escaping you, as though he wasn’t already fucking you senseless. You rolled your hips, meeting his rhythm. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, swordsman,” you retorted, the defiance in your stare igniting a spark in his eye, a challenge he was willing to see through.

In answer, his hand left your face, settled itself between your bodies, finding your clit in soft circles. Your back arched in pleasure, your hands flying to his arms, fingers looking for purchase. Incoherent swears passed your lips, your nails dug in, dragged along his arms. The pain mixing in with the pleasure earning you a loud groan on his part.  

You dimly caught the sound of the bed creak with each of his thrusts, the way the headboard slammed on the wall now and then, but you didn’t care, the ecstasy washing over you making you forget all sense of propriety.

Your words were incomprehensible as he brought you nearer and nearer to the edge. Closer to desperate pleas and wanton moans than coherent sentences. Your whole body tensed hard as you orgasmed, a soft flush spread across your chest. 

You heard him swear under his breath as your walls clenched around him but he didn’t stop as your mind struggled to come back. He suddenly turned you over, his thighs trapping yours. His hands found your hips, holding them up bruisingly. The moan you let out as he slid inside you again was so depraved that he almost came right there.

Your face dug in the covers, drool seeping in the fabric, nails digging hard in the soft weave. You heard threads snap as you writhed. He felt so deep. Your toes curled in pleasure. It was all too much, you were already so damned over sensitive.

“Shit, so good for me,” his hands palmed your ass roughly, velvety skin yielding under calloused fingers. His touch was domineering as it traveled along the curve of your back, pushing up your skirt, still bunched around your waist.

You felt a hand press between your shoulder blades, inch toward your neck, fingers tangling harshly in your locks for a fleeting moment. Then he grasped your arm, pulling you up easily, his arm snaking around you, his palm flat against your sweat covered skin as his hand moved up encircling your throat in a gentle yet possessive grip. Your hands instinctively settled on his forearm for support as you struggled to keep up.  

The sound of wet slapping skin, the squelch as he drilled into you intensified in the position. His hand traveled up almost tenderly, cupping your face, turning you to him. His lips captured yours lazily, one of your hands shifted away from his arm, navigating to his nape, fingers tangling in his unruly hair.

The hand on your hip roamed down, fingers finding your clit. You spasmed and begged at the blitz of sensations. Thighs trembling, there was nothing you could do but hang on for dear life, your nails digging painfully in his forearm, in his neck as his pace fastened.

Your name passed his lips. “One more for me,” he pleaded, hot breath mixing with yours before biting hard on your shoulder. 

“Please, Zoro, fuck,” you sobbed in pleasure as you felt your orgasm rapidly build up.

His hips stuttered, his rhythm broken by your pleas. “Where do you want me to cum?” the urgency in his voice was apparent as he breathed out the question.

“In-inside,” you begged over and over.

He groaned at that, the idea clearly pleasing to him. “Shit,” his thrusts were sloppy, his hold on your body harder. “So fucking perfect for me.”

With a particularly hard flick on your clit, your mind went blank, body hard then limp, entirely supported by the swordsman’s strength as rapture filled you.

He kissed and marked you almost painfully as you came down from your high, walls spasming sporadically around him. He swore emphatically, your name uttered between each curse, before emptying out inside you, his loud moans muffled against your skin.

His movements gradually slowed. He placed a fond kiss on your shoulder, and you whimpered as he pulled out of you, his seed dripping down your thigh. He lowered you gently on the bed, following you as he dropped himself next to you.

Lying there in the aftermath, a sense of weightlessness enveloped you, leaving your mind blissfully devoid of thought. His arm rested heavily on your stomach, the sensation of damp skin against damp skin a tactile reminder of the intimacy you had just shared. Gradually, he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow, his gaze fixed on you with a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

With a tenderness that caught you off guard, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before trailing along your jawline. You watched him, a puzzled furrow creasing your brow, as he rose from the bed with a quiet grunt, pulling up his pants, still pooled around his ankles, before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

"What are you doing?" you called after him, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

"You said we should wash up," he grumbled in response, the sound of running water punctuating his words.

An amused snort escaped you. "Now? Really, Zoro?" You attempted to roll over, but your muscles felt weak, and you slumped back down in defeat.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the doorway, a faint smile playing on his features as he observed your futile attempt. 

"Having some trouble?" he said, his voice laced with satisfaction as he stalked to your side, the bed dipping under his weight as he settled himself between your legs. If you weren't so fucked out, the smugness in his tone might have elicited an eye roll, but instead, a small chuckle escaped your lips at his comment.

One of his hands went behind your knee, opening you up for him. The other went to your slit, a sharp hiss escaping your lips at the over sensitivity. His fingers traced the seed dripping out of you.

He swore under his breath, his gaze blown out as he met your eyes. 

“Don’t you dare,” you breathed out in a high-pitched whine, your hips arching away. “I’m too sensitive.”

His hand left your heat, slick fingers dragging up your thighs, bunching in the skirt still gathered at your waist.

He hummed in consideration, evidently wrestling with himself. "How do you take this off?" he asked, hovering uncertainly over the fabric of the waistband.

The smile that hit your lips was genuine as you looked at him. "The zipper's on the side, you moron," you replied, pointing lazily to the concealed closure.

He leaned down, planting a tender kiss on your lips as his fingers grasped the zipper tab and pulled it down. His touch lingered on your skin, the kiss deepening. His name escaped you in a soft warning, prompting him to pull back, his lips parting from yours as he guided the fabric off, gently lifting your hips.

Gathering you into his arms, he held you close. "What's with all the tenderness, swordsman?" you murmured, nuzzling your nose against his neck. "I thought you only knew direct approaches."

"Careful, witch," he said, his tone somehow serious as he teased, his hands squeezing plush flesh as he buried his face in your hair. "If you keep this up, I'm bringing you back to bed."

Before you could offer a witty response, he gracefully lowered you into the welcoming embrace of the bathwater. Instantly, warmth enveloped you, coaxing the tension from your weary muscles. With a contented sigh, you reclined against the edge of the tub, allowing the soothing heat to work its magic.

As you relaxed, your gaze drifted to Zoro, who was now bending down to unlace his boots. The soft glow of the bathroom accentuated the contours of his muscular arms, casting a mesmerizing play of light and shadow across his skin. You couldn’t help the smirk gracing your features as you looked at the red marks plaguing his chest, his biceps. In that moment, he was nothing short of stunning, having you trapped and entranced as he undid his pants, kicked them off along with his boots. 

“Scoot,” he demanded with a cock of his head, his earrings glinting in the movement.

You raised a brow at his tone but still you obliged, shifting over. The water rose around you as Zoro settled in behind you, his presence adding to the comforting embrace of the bath.

As he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest, you didn’t resist as you backed into his hold, savoring the feeling of safety and warmth that surrounded you. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a soothing lullaby, calming your mind for a flicker of an instant.

For a while, you simply reveled in the blissful stillness of the moment, the only sound the soft murmur of the water as his hand traced up and down your arm in a mindless pattern and the quiet exhales of contentment that escaped you. 

“About Yokubari,” you began, your voice barely a whisper, laden with uncertainty.

You felt him tense behind you, his fingers coming to a halt. His lips brushed against the skin near your ear, a delicate, repentant gesture. “I'm sorry,” he muttered, his apology scarcely audible over the pitter-patter of the rain against the rooftop.

You paused, grappling with the words on the tip of your tongue. “I won't deny that I'm still furious with you, Zoro,” you confessed, the admission hanging heavy in the air between you. “But it wasn’t all you. I was tired and scared, and I overreacted. I shouldn’t have left you alone with Yokubari like that, it was irresponsible on my part.”

There was a beat of silence, his lips trailing down your neck, over your shoulder, tracing the marks he’d left moments ago. His arms slid from the bath’s edge, sinking into the water and wrapping around your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice grumbly and muffled against your skin. “You were right, I lost myself for an instant.”

You weren’t certain what it was you wanted to say, so you stayed quiet for a while. “Did you at least figure it out?” You asked eventually. 

One of his hands traveled up from your stomach tracing the curve of your breast, playing with your nipple absentmindedly. The other went to your thigh, grabbing the soft flesh, his thumb moving in light circles. You felt his teeth sink in your neck.

“I figured out what I needed to,” he muttered halfheartedly as he kissed the bite mark tenderly.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, trying to understand what he meant. You let your head fall on his chest as you looked up at him. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” You pressed, your voice tinged with apprehension.

Zoro's grip tightened around you, his expression conflicted as he struggled to find the right words. "I meant... I learned enough to control it, to keep it from consuming me," he explained, his tone imbued with a mixture of reluctance and determination. "But whether I've completely figured it out... I haven’t." He paused, his gaze searching yours before he continued. "I tried figuring it out on the day you left but I haven’t touched it since. It felt wrong to handle it without you there. I gave you my word. I should have kept it better."

His hand traveled up, wrapping around your throat for a moment before turning your head and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re an idiot, swordsman,” your breath mingled with his.

His lips curved into a wry smile against yours, his grip gentle yet possessive as he deepened the kiss, seeking solace and reassurance in the warmth of your embrace. You sank into him, the tension of the past few days melting away with each caress, each shared breath.

“I am,” he admitted. His touch left your face, going back to your breast with more purpose, his hand inched towards your heat once again, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“And you’re insatiable,” you complained in a whine, one of your hands flying to the bath’s edge to find purchase, the other settled on his leg at your side, nails digging hard.

His fingers met your core, opened you up, “I know,” he said with satisfaction dripping in his tone at the reaction of your body.

Bonus scene:

Roronoa Zoro found himself facing the consequences of his actions. The realization dawned on him that he had indeed messed up…bad. He hadn’t anticipated you staying away for so long—a thought that seemed absurd now as he reflected on it. With closed eyes, he furrowed his brow, attempting to will himself to sleep, though slumber had eluded him ever since you departed. His jaw clenched, the memory of the hurt in your eyes flickered behind his eyelids, haunting him relentlessly.

The abrupt slam of the door shattered the fragile peace of his solitude, and he fought the instinct to flinch, hoping to be left alone a moment more.

“Good, you’re awake,” Nami stated, her perceptive gaze cutting through his feigned slumber. “Follow me.”

He reluctantly cracked an eye open, a scowl of irritation etching his features. “I’m trying to sleep,” he grumbled, but the determined look in Nami’s stare made him concede defeat before the battle had even begun.

“Fine,” he muttered, begrudgingly rising to his feet.

His footsteps stopped in front of the establishment, the realization of what Nami was trying to achieve downing on him. Had he known that the navigator was going to drag him all the way to you, he would have undoubtedly put up more of a fight. He tried to turn away but her hand grabbed him hard, pulling him with her. 

“Don’t come back until you’ve made up,” Nami urged, shoving him through the doorway of the bar. “I don’t know what you did, but apologize.”

With a pat on the back, she left him standing there, her words echoing in his mind.

He sighed, shifting uncertainly in the entryway, his gaze surveying the small, cozy space. Inevitably, he spotted you, leaning against the bar, engaged in conversation with someone he couldn’t quite see, a soft smile gracing your lips.

If he were honest, he had had every intention of apologizing in that moment. However, as he watched the young man lean closer to you, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy stirred within him. Rationality reminded him that you didn’t belong to him; you were your own person. Yet, as he witnessed the intimacy of the gesture, heard the clear din of your laughter ring through the chatter of the room, his frustration boiled dangerously. The countless apologies he had rehearsed over the past few days evaporated from his mind as he stormed to your side.

You had willfully ignored him from the moment you noticed his presence, your fury towards him still evident in the fire of your eyes. He sensed his own annoyance doubling at his inability to know how to handle the situation.

Yet, as your angry gaze had met his, he felt a rush of emotions flood over him—a mixture of longing and regret.

Damn it.

In the soft glow of the lanterns, you looked breathtakingly beautiful, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you. He wanted nothing more than to pin you to that bar and kiss you dizzy. You snapped something at him, but he couldn't quite register the words amidst the whirlwind of unknown reactions coursing through him.

Before you could escape him again, he grasped your hand. A possessive hold that was unlike him.

“We’re going back to the ship,” He said, his voice feeling far away, as though it was someone else’s. Hell, even he realized how ridiculous he sounded when the words left his lips.

Fuck.

He didn’t even know how to get back to the ship. 

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[khristie16]

Two Options, One Chance

you are a model that is well introduced to your favorite guys, but how well it goes for you trying to keep both of them?

— based on these requests warnings: 18+, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, bdsm, penetration, fingering, choking, some anon called it rape fic so rape fantasy, no proofread

You've never been the type of girl who could choose only one man if you wanted both of them. Which is exactly what happened to you in the last two months. You are quite popular in a celebrity world because you make photoshoot for bikini and underwear. You have made some connections and once you met two men on a New Year's party. Charles and Carlos. It took like ten minutes to get it on with Carlos right before the countdown on the new year's coming. After few days you received a text message from unknown number. As time passed by you discovered it was Charles who wrote you. He did not want to tell you how he got your number and after some flirtatious texts you met up and hook up together.

For some time you felt ashamed of yourself for being this torn between two guys, but you successfully let it go and stayed in your confidence. This situation going on went well till one day where you started thinking that perhaps it wasn't the best choice to make colliding between two possessive guys.

There was another party of one our mutual friends with Carlos. You attended together as something like a pair even though you have never spoke with him how exclusive you two are. And given the fact you are hooking up with Charles at the same time meant you are the last to talk about exclusivity. You are not used to drinking alcohol that much so it took you few sips of wine and you danced on top of the table on the music. You liked to wear dresses and the higher you stand the easier for others to see what color of your panties you're wearing. Carlos didn't like the looks male relatives had for you and his blood started boiling. He stayed still literally for two minutes until he tossed you from the table grabbing your arm and leading you toward the exit where he called the cab to go home. You shouted at him why he is acting like this towards you but in vain.

"Shut up or you will make it worse"

You didn't know what was going on and you closed your eyes for just one minute. The next one you are lying on your stomach feeling tense wrists. As you struggle with your clear sight you feel someone presence behind you. As you finally accomodated to the light you saw handcuffs literally so tight to your skin you were afraid to move now in case you could really hurt yourself.

"Carlos…"

You started to be worried because this has never happened between the two of you. It was always rough but not like this. As you started crying resulting in the unknown fact about what was going on a harsh slap landed on your ass making you writhe on your stomach and scream in pain. Carlos was fuming and his own exhales through nose were the only thing you could concentrate on instead of the pain.

"A fucking slut"

You moved your legs up and down like a little child trying to escape the cage from this man but he held you so steady you wouldn't move an inch even if you wanted to.

"You probably fucking forgot who is your master"

Your eyes almost fell out and you screamed even more trying to escape him. He slapped you more and more you swore you wouldn't be able to sit down from the lasting pain. When you thought you're gonna pass out he sticked his dick to your hole making you cry and moan at the same time. You hated Carlos at this same second and even more the second you came on his dick.

The next morning waking up in his bed you went to the bathroom trying to not wake him up and as you took a look in the mirror you gasped. You don't even remember Carlos choking you but the fingers printed around your neck was enough to run away from his flat back to your home. You thought blocking his number immediately and when you opened the phone you saw sixteen unread messages from Charles. The last one made you scared.

I am going to your place now

As you panicked and ran towards the door to lock it there was a knock on the door. You froze on the spot and awaited what will come next. You hoped he will disappear on his own when you won't open them for him but he talked to you through the closed doors.

"I know you're there."

You didn't wanna believe him. First he could not see you like this in this state because he is not supposed to know you are seeing someone else. Second you were starting to be scared of Charles again. Yet you acknowledged that these guys probably have grown some obsession over you which Charles immediately supported.

"I have your GPS on my phone."

You cursed and thought of jumping from your window. Too high. You ran to put up a roll neck to cover the evidence from your past night. Charles grew impatient as he started punching the doors.

"Stop making noise!"

You saw him furious in front of you and his eyes immediately went to your neck. When his eyes met up with yours again he stepped closer to you and grabbed you by your hair.

"I missed you"

He attacked your lips and took everything you got left for him. You moaned and whimpered at the same time from such intrusion. You were enough overstimulated and you didn't know how much longer you could go like this.

When he tossed you on the bed, he grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt. You didn't even get the chance to catch a breath and you were already naked under him.

"What is this?"

You started begging him to stop whatever he was doing but he held you even more by crushing your waist. He slapped your left breast and you yelped in pain.

"You are fucking mine from now one"

He held you by the neck the second words left his lips and pressed firm around. You questioned what he is doing and as if he read your mind

"Whoever this was is gone, this neck is MINE"

You almost passed out and tears ran freely down your cheeks you weren't even aware of. He kissed your tears and filled you with his fingers. Your natural response was to get away from his as much as possible and as fast as possible. But he held you in his possession now and that is quite literal.

"Stop please"

You couldn't go with the overstimulation but Charles did not care. He smiled at you with psychopathic eyes and whispered to your ear.

"I'm gonna print myself everywhere, no matter how you feel about it."

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Twenty-One

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Canon-level violence (blood, gore, fighting, killing, death), mentions of SA, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You continue to compete in the Blood Rite.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty

“What are you doing here?” You asked him. “You should’ve completed the Rite years ago…”

“I just qualified for it this winter… (Y/N), we all thought you were dead.” He said and stepped closer to you, making you take a step back. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just saved your life.” He said. 

“I was doing just fine by myself.” You replied, grabbing your spear from the ground. “I don’t need help.” 

“I’m not here to help you. I just think it might be easier to have an ally out here than not.” He said. 

“And you don’t have a little band of brothers here?” You asked. 

“All my friends have completed the Rite already.” He said and let out a breath. “We should keep moving.” He said. 

You looked at him and held back a scowl as you started to walk. “Took you a while to qualify for this, hmm?” You asked and looked at him. 

“I have a mate,” he said. “And I’ve been focused on caring for her since her father clipped her wings when she was young.” 

You glanced at him. If he thought he was going to get any sympathy from you... “I don’t speak to our father anymore, either.” He said. “When our brothers didn’t find you, he got more brutal… and I decided I had enough.” 

“Good for you,” you ground out. “I’m glad you had the choice of leaving and being able to live a normal life.” You said. 

“How did you end up here?” He asked. 

“I’m not telling you anything about myself.” You said. “And if you don’t be quiet you’re going to draw attention to us and get us both killed.” You said and continued walking. 

“I just want to make Oristian.” He said, keeping pace with you. He was 10 when you left Valorworth. Had he always been this annoying? 

“I just want to survive.” You muttered and looked forward, taking a deep breath. “Just stay quiet and stay out of my way. You hunt your own food and water.” You said. “And if I catch even a whiff that you’re going to turn on me, you won’t make it to the mountain.” You said. 

“You’re taking the north way? It’s harder.” He said. 

You closed your eyes. “I know.” You said through gritted teeth. 

“If we-“

“There is no we,” you said and spun on him. That rage that was buried deep down was bubbling to the surface now. “It’s just you. And me. We are not friends. We are not family. If you insist on sticking by me, keep your mouth shut and don’t get me killed.” You said. 

He faltered his steps, frowning at your words. “Okay.” He said. 

You turned back around and continued to walk, saying those three words again in your mind to calm yourself back down.

Survive. Mountain. Mate. 

Being pissed wouldn’t get you anywhere but buried in the ground. 

Day 4-5

The fourth day went by quickly. You and Varyn ran into two separate groups that you took out easily. Varyn seemed to know one of them, but didn’t seem too upset when you killed them. You ripped your cloak more and found some flowers to clean your arm wound with water. It was wrapped as tight as possible to keep the elements out. It had stopped bleeding once water hit it. 

Varyn still wouldn’t shut up. When you were alone he would tell you about the war camp, about his mate, Wessian, and about your elder brothers. As if you wanted to know anything about his life. The life that you fled from because of your father. You didn’t blame Varyn for it, he was 10 and could barely fly properly. But that didn’t change the fact that your father raised him. Even if Varyn left the second he could. 

You were half a day's walk from Ramiel when you got into bigger trouble.

That group of 5 males was back again. You knew you would regret leaving them alive. They surrounded you again. This time, you had even less sleep, less food, and less strength than you did before. But you had Varyn. From the previous day and a half, you knew he could fight.

It didn’t go very well for you. But it went worse for them. The main brunette had left a nasty gash in your right calf. Your lip was busted open and your left eye almost swollen shut from where one of his friends hit your head with a bludgeon. And you were pretty sure another one of them twisted your left wrist even worse than it was before. Varyn was in slightly better shape, his legs were fine but you could tell his ribs were definitely not okay. 

You found a stream, filled your canteen and cleaned your wounds. You just hoped that the water was clean enough not to cause infection. 

This time you were glad that you killed them. 

Day 6

You made it to Ramiel. Your leg was killing you, but you made it to the mountain. Your second priority was finished. You would be titled Oristian with Varyn. But once he saw it, he wanted to keep going. You knew you couldn’t make the climb, but being alone with your leg’s condition worsening wouldn’t be a good choice either. So you chose to follow him. 

You told him about your new family. About Cassian, Mor, Amren, Feyre, Rhys… and Azriel. You left out the part of him being your mate. If you focused on it too long, you could swear you could feel the tug. Buried deep deep down from the spells that suppress magic. You knew he could feel it too, if it even snapped for him when it did for you. 

You told him that you were a Shadowsinger and a spy for Amarantha, and Rhys took you to his home after you found Sirona, Igna, and Oran dead. You told him how you found a place in the Night Court. And it was your home. 

You just had to last one more day, two more nights, and you could go back to your home. To your mate. 

You found a cave on the mountain, probably half way up, trusting Varyn enough at this stage to actually sleep. It was a mistake. 

Day 7

It was the last day. If you survived till dawn, you would be back home. With Azriel. But when you awoke in the morning, there was something sharp poking the side of your neck. 

“We can’t let a female win, can we?” You heard someone say. It was familiar, but you couldn’t place the voice. You opened your eyes, going to struggle but you found yourself restrained. A terrible feeling washed over you as you saw your brother laying on the ground, gasping as he held his stomach. He was bleeding out. A lot. He wouldn’t make it till dawn. He wouldn’t even make it till noon. Not unless you could bind it. And you were pretty sure your leg was infected by the way it felt when the Illyrian restraining you pulled you to your feet. Your head spun, and you figured you had a fever as well from the flush you felt on your cheeks and the chill that ran through your body despite the lack of wind. 

“Maybe we’ll clip your wings. Tear them right off of you. And then fuck you until your dead. Or close to it.” You recognized the male. It was Nearsen. He was the one who you fought the day before the qualifying course. “And then, we’ll show your wings to that pretty boy and the Lord Commander. See how they force females upon us then.” He said. 

You couldn’t even struggle against the grip of the male holding you. Did they drug you with something? Your head felt a lot heavier than it should for a fever. “You won’t touch me.” You managed to get out, wincing when Nearsen grabbed your top and pulled it towards him, causing it to rip in the process. Luckily, you still had your second layer beneath so he couldn’t see anything. That was when he took a rock and tore threw the rest of your top, exposing the top half of your body. 

“Might want to mind your tongue, princess. It won’t make it easier for you if you fight.” He said. 

You glanced over to your brother as he slowly bled to death. The only thing in his eyes was horror. Something new snapped inside of you. You couldn’t let another one of your family members die. Not if you were alive and conscious. Even if you denounced the Vash name long ago. You wouldn’t let him die. Not like this. And you sure as hell wouldn't let another male harm you without fighting.

You took a deep breath, groaning when Nearsen pushed in on the festering wound on your leg. You took your chance while his head was down, kneeing him in the groin. You quickly moved your neck before they could jab the small wooden stake in it. You hit a pressure point below their arm, seeing the stake drop. You caught it, immediately bringing it up to stab the male behind you in the neck. You recognized him too. But you didn’t dare think too much about it as you stood up straight, ignoring the pain in your leg. You held the small wooden stake, now dripping with blood.

Nearsen and two other males closed in on you. Both were injured, and one could barely walk straight from the broken leg he had. You went for him next, dodging Nearsen and knocking the injured one out. You did the same to the other male, easily finding that pressure point. Whatever weakness that you woke up to was gone. Anger and determination pulsed through your veins. 

Nearsen sneered, going to lunge at you but you simply hit his pressure point, watching as he fell down. You should kill them while they were down. You learned the cost once before. But you were concerned about your brother. You threw your cloak off, running over to him.

“How bad is it?” You asked as you poured the little water you had left on the wound before tying off his injury as tight as you could. 

“I’m not bleeding from my mouth yet.” He coughed and you shook your head. 

He told you what happened as you helped him up, both of you limping out of the cave into the late morning. How they jumped him and stabbed him before he even saw what was coming. They covered his mouth so he couldn’t warn you too. 

You glanced back, cursing yourself for not killing the three males laying in the cave. But you were closer to the top than you thought, still about halfway up the mountain. You were on the easier route of the mountain as well, not the hardest part. You could make it by dawn if you didn’t stop. And if you were correct, the monolith on top of Ramiel would heal your wounds. 

So you helped Varyn up, closer and closer to the peak. You had to let go of him, climbing the rocks instead of walking at certain points. Night had fallen, and you could barely see. But as soon as dawn hit, you would be free. You could see the moon setting, getting closer to the peak as it did. 

You were doing well until you heard the three males chasing you. You slipped, your hand scraping against the rock. “Go faster.” You yelled to Varyn, who was ahead of you. You bit down on your tongue as you climbed, each wound you had yelled at you to stop. But you had to get up there. You made it to a pass where you didn’t have to climb. Varyn helped you up the best he could and then you both sprinting up the mountain. The moon was almost set. Dawn was nearing. The sun just about to peak over the horizon. You could see the top of Ramiel. You let Varyn climb before you, starting after him. 

He waited for you at the top. He wouldn’t touch it without you. You gritted your teeth, pulling yourself up. Your leg was basically dead weight. If you made it back alive, you weren’t sure your leg would survive. 

You almost made it to the top. Almost touched that stone as you felt a spear lodge in the top of your left wing. So close to the tendon you could’ve sworn it tore right through it. You let go of the rock you were holding on to, feeling your body give way to your injuries. Your wings fought against the bindings as they tried to free themselves. Tried to keep you from falling. But you were. Tumbling down the mountain. More and more wounds littering your body. Until you landed on the pass where you sprinted. Your arm broke. Every breath hurt. You faintly heard Varyn yell. Your wings twitched at the broken bones, the wooden spear that was lodged in it had pierced all the way through. You were sure the tendon snapped. And just as you saw the sun peek out from the ground, you succumbed to the darkness.

A/N: My note from what I was writing this reads: "heheehehhe cliff hangeerrr (almost literally)…." Stay tuned for Monday!

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