#he’s saying “they’re too cute I have to kill them”

[bleeding-seraphic]

here have a nonsense doodle I don’t even remember drawing

[asmidge]

emotional over how Android 17 was built to kill and now his job is protecting life. he doesn’t want to kill the poachers even though they directly threaten the animals that are so important to him

he has a wife and kids now and has an actual life, something that Dr Gero never envisioned for him or his sister. they were created as tools meant to kill Goku but they’re his friend now. they live for themselves and value the lives that they were originally meant to destroy

[thewispsings]

Heloo can I request a smau where the reader and lando are dating and they always do date nights but its not really a date night cus oscar is always with them everytime lily isnt there and he just becomes their child 😭 thank you thank youu

just us, and your friend steve | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: at first you were annoyed by oscar being at all of your dates, until you started to miss him when he wasn’t.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 572,016 others!

yourusername: date night with my boyfriend <3…and his boyfriend!

view comments below!

user1: oscar the certified 3rd wheel

user2: that picture is so cute

landonorris: i love you :)

yourusername: haha simp

landonorris: oscar give my girlfriend her phone back

yourusername: fine 😒

yourusername: i love you too lan :D

landonorris: there she is!

user3: man i would KILL to be a third wheel in this relationship

user4: i would be landos boyfriend 😏

user5: is lando oscar’s only friend??

landonorris: yes!

oscarpiastri: it’s not nice to lie lando

landonorris: im not lying?

oscarpiastri: i have other friends!

landonorris: oh…then why don’t you go hangout with them instead of 3rd wheeling with me and my girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: …

landonorris: that’s what i thought!

yourusername: that was not nice lando.

landonorris: it wasn’t meant to be nice, it was the truth!

yourusername: still, it was mean.

oscarpiastri; yeah lando. it was MEAN.

landonorris: don’t gang up on me??

user6: LMAOO they hang out for one night and they become like this 🤞

user7: i need more of this trio

danielricciardo: and why wasn’t i invited?

maxverstappen1: i have the same question?

landonorris: because you guys have other friends! for osc it’s just me and yn

oscarpiastri; I HAVE OTHER FRIENDS.

landonorris: shhh, shhh, shhh baby it’s okay. it’s okay.

yourusername: baby 🤨

landonorris: omg it just slipped out

user8: that’s…interesting!

user9: yn and lando are so cute together

user9: and oscar cute too ig?

user10: you guess?? that man is gorgeous

user11: the “…and his boyfriend” is TOOO funny. yn i love you

user12: she’s seriously so funny

user13: how can people hate her?

user14: they’re most definitely just jealous

maxverstappen1: oh but when i want to make a heart shaped pizza with you it’s weird?

landonorris: yes!

maxverstappen1: double standard much?

landonorris: she’s my GIRLFRIEND

maxverstappen1: AND WHAT AM I?

user15: i feel like im interrupting something

yourusername: how do you think i feel…

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 528,058 others!

yourusername: paddle and golf with my baby <3 and my baby 🥹

view comments below!

landonorris: why does he get the cool picture and i get that?

yourusername: i think both pictures summarize you guys perfectly!

landonorris: so he’s cool while i’m a loser?

yourusername: i didn’t say that but…

landonorris: WOW, already favoriting the child. i can’t believe this.

yourusername: my child will ALWAYS come first.

oscarpiastri: :D

user16: we went from “my bfs bf” to “my child 🥹”

user17: WE DID IT GUYS

user18: yn and lando adopting oscar agenda is HAPPENING

charle_leclerc: are you trying to steal my child from me?

yourusername: it’s not really stealing if he willingly comes with…

charles_leclerc: it’s just stockholm syndrome, don’t worry oscar i’ll get you away from them soon

oscarpiastri: im actually having lots of fun :)

charles_leclerc: OMG WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM

user19: we got lando and yn adopting oscar…but we lost this during

user20: totally worth it

danielricciardo: when is it my time to be adopted?

maxverstappen1: you are a 35 year old grown man.

danielricciardo: 😐

user21: why is max coming for daniel??

maxverstappen1: i’m bored. since APPARENTLY i’m not landos paddle partner anymore

landonorris: max…i can explain…

maxverstappen1: save it. don’t call me. don’t come by my house. we’re done.

landonorris: i see you watched diary of a wimpy kid

maxverstappen1: i did indeed..

user24: they’re at it again…

user22: max is so funny

user23: i love him

user24: oscar being so quite during all of his is so him coded

user25: he’s just enjoying being out and about

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 601,958 others!

yourusername: vacation with the boyfie <3

view comments below!

user26: omg lando looks so good

user26: i’m going into heat

user26: WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

user26: GRRRR

user27: this is the first post in 2 months that doesn’t have oscar…

user28: and the crowd…cry’s?

user29; i can’t be the only one who thought oscar would 100% go with them on vacation

user30: i definitely thought so too!

user31: they’ve literally spend all their extra time together

maxverstappen1: how many times did he belly flop?

yourusername: i’ve been swore to secrecy.

user32: she’s so lucky

user33: right? ‘the boyfie’ IMAGINE BEING ABLE TO CALL LANDO NORRIS YOUR BF??

charles_leclerc: guess who’s with me right now 😏

landonorris: charles…don’t.

charles_leclerc: hehehe

yourusername: you’re just his rebound. you’ll never be me.

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiatsri what do you think?

oscarpiastri: i still like yn better

charles_leclerc: i bought you ice cream…

oscarpiatri: you could never be her 🤷

yourusername; IM COMING HOME FOR YOU OSCAR

landonorris: see what you did charles?

maxverstappen1: how are you holding up?

yourusername: i feel like my hearts been ripped out of my chest. i have no reason to wake up.

maxverstappen1: oh!

user34: max was NOT expecting that answer

user35: if oscar doesn’t get himself over to that damn island soon istg

user36: THATS HER BOY 💔💔💔

oscarpiastri: did you find any crabs? :D

yourusername: yes. i will put them in my suitcase and take them with me to show you

user37: so this is crazy!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 713,046 others!

yourusername: look who joined us!! my son <3

view comments below!

user38: THEY REUNITED!!!

maxverstappen1: how did she take it? 🤣

landonorris: she cried.

yourusername: i did not!

landonorris: yeah baby you did…

oscarpiastri: yn you know how much i hate agreeing with lando, but yes you did cry

yourusername: I MISSED MY SON, GOD FORBID I CRY??

user39: i get you yn. i really do

user40: omg this is so cute

user41: truly adorable

oscarpiastri: now i can see all the crabs in person :D

yourusername; THATS MY SON EVERYONE

charles_leclerc: he was mine first 🥲

yourusername: #getoverit??

landonorris; can’t believe you cried when you saw him

yourusername: i was EMOTIONAL

landonorris: in the four years we’ve been dating you have never cried when seeing me

yourusername: i see you all the time! no need to cry!

landonorris: i want you to cry! cry for me!

oscarpiastri: you could never be me ;)

landonorris: i will send you back to australia

yourusername: if you send him back, i’m going with him

landonorris: WOW.

user42: we have officially entered the era where yn is choosing oscar over lando

user43: her son > her boyfriend

danielricciardo: does this mean i can hop on a plane and go visit you

landonorris: NO. this is officially a family vacation.

danielricciardo: and i’m not family? 💔

yourusername: you’re that one uncle that you see twice a year and don’t talk to or interact with for the rest of said year.

danielricciardo; yeah that makes sense.

. . .

notes; thank you for requesting!! hope you enjoyed :)

[jongace]

jongdae…………………………

[moonstruckme]

hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!

poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary. 

The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest. 

A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first. 

“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug. 

“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?” 

“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time. 

Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips. 

“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.” 

“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?” 

You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction. 

“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully. 

“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.” 

This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds. 

James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely. 

“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.” 

You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter. 

“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask. 

“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head. 

“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?” 

You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.” 

Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”

[n6ptunova]

camera roll with bf!matt

backstory of each pic at the end <3

backstory of each pic:

༻ʚ 1. “i loveee this outfit on you, you look so cute,” you smirked knowing your boyfriend doesn’t take compliments well.

“this outfit? you have weird taste.” he rolled his eyes but you can see the corner of his lips fighting back a smile.

you ignore his comment and move away from him as he gives you a questioning look. his confusion is gone when you pull out your film camera from your drawer. “is this really worth film?”

“yes, the fit, your hair, and mr wrinkleton- this is important!! smile please.” he then finally posed, barely smiling but that’s as much as you’re gonna get out of him.

༻ʚ 2. “matt, stop!” you giggle running away from matt who had started a pillow fight earlier. you walked into his room wearing his pj bottoms (from pic 1) and told him they’re yours now. he claimed it’s his favorite but it was yours too :( you unintentionally declared a war when you said if he wants them back he’ll have to take it himself.

that’s when he stood up and started chasing you and it turned into a pillow fight. see, he doesn’t actually care about the pants- you can have his entire closet if you asked. but he loved teasing you just as much as you loved annoying him.

you run into nick’s room yelling, “ nick, help! your brother is trying to kill me!”

“she stole my pants, i want them back!” he laughed, out of breath.

“aren’t boyfriends supposed to like giving their clothes to their girlfriends? stop being a loser matt.” nick said, pulling out his phone to record this. “EXACTLY, tell him nick!!”

matt finally got a hold of you as he tackled you into nick’s bed, both of you giggling and play flighting while nick eventually gets tired and kicks you both out.

༻ʚ 3. you and matt agreed to keep your relationship offline for at least a year. well it was finally your one year anniversary and matt surprised you with a trip just the two of you.

you woke up cuddled in matt’s arms, he gave you a soft kiss as he struggled to fully wake up. you’re more of a morning person than he is so you sat up taking in the view from the hotel and that paired with how fine your boyfriend is you decided to take a “soft launch” picture asking matt if you can post it to which he nods. the pic became a fan favorite amongst his fans for obvious reasons :)

༻ʚ 4. before this picture was taken, you and matt were in his room…making out…a lot. it was getting intense with his grip on your waist guiding your hips back and forth on his lap while your hands pull and tug on his hair and his tongue down your throat.

before this went any further you hear a loud yell from chris saying ‘food’s here.’ groaning you get up off him admiring how fucked he looks. “wait a few minutes, i can’t go out with a hard on.” you laughed and said you’ll meet him outside.

when he comes out of his room his hair is still a mess and he looked as fine as ever. you told him and nick to pose for a friday dump but really, you just wanted to this look on your boyfriend. you’ll definitely pick up where you left off tonight.

༻ʚ 5. beach date with matt <3

༻ʚ 6. matt was playing with your puppy and you left them to go make some food, when you came back you found them napping together on the ground making your heart melt. you love them both so much.

tag list🤍 ~ @mattscoquette @et6rnalsun @norr1ssturni0lo @sturnsxplr-25

if you wanna be added please lmkk <3

[pucksandpower]

Blackmail Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you love your boyfriend more than life itself but who can blame you for keeping a folder of all the blackmail material he has given you over the years … just in case

You hear a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. “Y/N! Come quick!” Charles yells.

You rush over to find him standing on top of the couch, a look of sheer terror on his face. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He points a shaky finger at the floor. “Sp-spider!”

You look down to see a tiny little spider no bigger than a blueberry crawling across the hardwood. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of your brave Formula 1 driver boyfriend absolutely losing it over this tiny critter.

“Really? That’s what all the fuss is about?” You don’t bother to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Don’t laugh!” He says indignantly. “It’s a monster! Kill it, please!”

You kneel down and take a closer look at the offending arachnid. “Aww, it’s just a little jumping spider,” you say. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

Charles makes a strangled sound of disbelief. “Cute? It’s a beast from the depths of hell! I want it gone!”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “You race cars at over 300 kilometers per hour, but you’re scared of a little spider barely bigger than a piece of lint?”

“Yes! Spiders are my worst fear. Now stop teasing me and get rid of it!” He gives you his best pleading look from his perch on top of the couch.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, grabbing an empty glass from the coffee table. You gently trap the spider under it and slide a piece of cardstock underneath, trapping the spider safely.

“Is it dead? Please tell me you killed it,” Charles asks hopefully.

“Of course not, I’m just going to let it go outside. Spiders are good, they eat other bugs.”

Charles visibly shudders. “Well get it out of here! I don’t want to see it ever again.”

You carry the spider carefully to the sliding door and release it on the balcony. When you come back inside, Charles is still standing on the couch looking suspiciously around at the floor.

“The horrible beast has been banished, you can come down now,” you say.

He hesitantly steps back down onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s gone? You didn’t just give it free reign to run wild in the apartment?”

You try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Your life is no longer in peril.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t funny! Spiders are evil creatures with too many legs and eyes. They should not exist.”

You go over and wrap your arms around him comfortingly, though you’re still struggling not to giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But you have to admit, it’s kind of silly that someone who races cars at death-defying speeds could be so terrified of a tiny spider.”

He huffs indignantly. “It’s a completely rational fear. They’re all legs and eyes and they move so fast and erratically and some of them can be venomous. Absolutely horrifying.”

You smile indulgently and kiss his cheek. “Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll protect you if any more evil spiders invade our home.”

“Thank you,” he says, finally relaxing into your arms now that the threat has passed.

But you just can’t resist teasing him a little more. “It was just so small!”

He pulls back and gives you an unamused look. “You’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”

You grin impishly. “Letting my big macho boyfriend stand on the couch and scream because of a teeny tiny spider? Yeah, probably not gonna let you live this one down for a while.”

Charles groans. “This is so unfair. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out.”

You pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that Charles Leclerc is terrified of itsy bitsy spiders.”

And if you happened to save evidence of his freak out just in case? Well … it’s not technically telling anyone unless you share the video.

***

You can’t help but grin as Charles paces back and forth in your New York hotel room, running his hands through his hair in distress.

“Chill out babe, I’m sure the airline will find your luggage soon,” you try to soothe him.

Charles whips around, eyes wide. “Chill out? How can I chill out when my La Mer is missing? Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect my skincare routine?”

You stifle a laugh at his dramatics. “I mean, it’s just skincare products. Not the end of the world.”

“Just skincare products?” Charles looks at you in horror. “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just a car! La Mer is the cream of the crop, the holy grail of skin care! My face needs it to survive!”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. “Wow, didn’t realize I was dating such a high maintenance diva,” you tease.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I am not high maintenance, I just have discerning taste and an appreciation for quality.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you say. “Is that why you made us stop at three different Whole Foods on the way here from the airport until you found your favorite protein shake?”

“That is completely different,” Charles protests. “My skin is very sensitive, I can’t just use any old drugstore products.”

You laugh and pull Charles onto the couch next to you. “You’re cute when you pout.”

He tries to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m freaking out! Do you know how dry airplanes are? My skin is going to be a flaky desert by tomorrow.”

You run a hand through his hair. “Aww poor baby. However will you cope without your six hundred dollar moisturizer?”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “You joke, but this is serious stuff. Do you want a boyfriend with wrinkles and acne?”

“I mean, a few wrinkles never hurt anyone,” you say, kissing his cheek.

He gasps dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that! I’ll be twenty seven soon, wrinkle prevention needs to start now.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Most twenty seven year olds aren’t this worried about wrinkles. But I guess Formula 1 drivers really are high maintenance.”

“With good reason! We can’t have crows feet interfering with our vision,” Charles says matter-of-factly.

You give him a look. “You’re just making things up now.”

Charles holds your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mon amour, you must understand. Athletes age in dog years. We need anti-aging products just to keep up.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it!”

Charles grins cheekily. “But you love me anyway.”

You lean in and give him a soft kiss. “Yeah I do. Even if you are a high maintenance diva.”

Charles puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive! My skincare is obviously very important to me.”

You snuggle up next to him, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tell me all about this super special moisturizer.”

His eyes light up. “Well first of all it contains like crushed up diamonds or something. And they freeze each jar before shipping it to keep the ingredients ultra fresh.”

You make a mental note to Google this later, since it sounds completely absurd that diamonds would be an effective skincare ingredient. Though with Charles, you can never be too sure.

“Uh huh, diamonds. That’s totally normal,” you say, playing along.

“Exactly! And the founder makes sure each jar charges under the energy of a full moon before it’s sold. It’s really an intricate artisanal process.” Charles sighs longingly.

You smile and kiss his pouting lips. “You’re cute. I promise your skin will survive one night without magic moon diamonds.”

Charles snuggles against your shoulder. “I know, I know. Skincare is just part of my routine, it makes me feel relaxed and put together. And smelling like citrus blossoms is an added bonus.”

You kiss the top of his head. “I get that. Hopefully the airline finds your stuff soon. But in the meantime, want me to see if anyone sells La Mer nearby?”

Charles perks up. “Ooh yes, let’s check! I saw they have a Dior down the block too.”

You laugh and take his hand. “Of course they do. Come on, let’s go spoil you with new overpriced skincare products until yours turn up.”

***

You walk into the kitchen and see your boyfriend standing at the counter, a pile of uncooked spaghetti next to him. He takes a portion in his hand … which he proceeds to snap in half before dropping it into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

“Charles! What are you doing?” You exclaim in shock.

He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean? I’m just making sure the pasta will fit better in the pot.”

“But you can’t break spaghetti before cooking it!” You say incredulously. “That’s like a cardinal sin in Italy!”

Charles laughs. “Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal. The pasta will cook just fine this way.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Il Predestinato is out here breaking pasta. Do you have any idea how offensive Italians would find this?”

“I’m sure they will survive the absolute tragedy of some broken spaghetti,” he jokes.

You nod to your phone. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this for posterity then. The whole country needs to know about this travesty.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. “What? No, don’t record me!” He reaches for your phone but you spin away, giggling.

“The people of Italy deserve to know the truth about their hero!” You declare dramatically.

“Mon ange, please give me the phone,” he pleads, trying to grab your arm. You dance out of reach.

“Truth and justice will prevail!” You continue recording as Charles chases you around the kitchen island.

“Come on, delete it! This could start an international incident if it gets out!”

You pause to catch your breath, phone held high. “An international inchident? Wow, look at you being all dramatic now. I thought it wasn’t a big deal?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I didn’t think you’d actually record it as blackmail material! Please, mon amour, I’m begging you, delete the video.”

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm I don’t know … this seems like prime viral video content. Scuderia Ferrari Driver Destroys Pasta, Enrages Italy. Can you imagine the views it would get?”

“Y/N!” Charles lunges forward and tackles you onto the living room couch. You shriek with laughter as he tries to pry the phone from your grip.

“Noooo my video!” You yell dramatically.

Charles pins your arms above your head with one hand and reaches for the phone with the other. “Give it to me!”

You squirm underneath him. “Never!”

He leans down until his face is just inches from yours. “What’s it going to take for you to delete that video, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly.

You catch your breath, hyper aware of his body pressing against yours. “I don’t know, what are you offering?” You ask cheekily.

Charles brushes his nose against yours. “What if I made you your favorite dinner tomorrow night?”

You tilt your chin up in defiance. “That’s all I get for deleting potential internet gold? I don’t think so.”

He moves even closer, his lips just barely grazing your cheek. “Okay, what if I take you out for a nice date too? Dinner and a show at the opera, your choice.” His breath is warm against your skin.

You close your eyes for a second, affected by his closeness but not ready to give in yet. “Tempting, but I think this video is worth even more than that.”

Charles makes a small noise of frustration before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melt into it for a blissful moment before pulling back slightly.

“Well that’s certainly a start,” you murmur, your heart racing.

Charles lets go of your hands to cradle your face tenderly. “Mon cœur, please delete the video. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You search his eyes intently. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirms fervently before kissing you again, deeper this time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and give yourself over to the kiss. After several heated moments, you gently break away.

“Okay fine, I’ll delete the video on one condition.”

Charles looks at you warily. “Name it.”

“You have to let me drive your Ferrari.”

Charles groans and drops his head against your shoulder. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You laugh and pat his head consolingly. “Those are my terms.”

He lifts his head to grin ruefully at you. “You drive a hard bargain. But for the sake of Italian nonnas everywhere, I accept your deal.”

You lift up your phone and pretend to wipe away a tear. “The souls of broken spaghetti can finally rest easy.”

Charles just shakes his head before leaning down to silence you with another deep kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, you quietly move the video into an encrypted folder. After all, you never know when it might come in handy.

***

You raise an eyebrow as you watch Charles carefully pour Red Bull into his Ferrari water bottle. “Do you buy those in bulk?” You ask with a laugh.

Charles gasps in exaggerated outrage. “Buy from the enemy? Never!” He screws the cap on tightly and gives you a sly grin. “Max and I have an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You echo in surprise. This is news to you.

Charles nods, looking pleased with himself. “Yes, a secret trade deal. I provide him cappuccinos from the Ferrari cafe and Max supplies me with as much Red Bull as I need.”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You and Max smuggle each other contraband caffeinated drinks?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Charles glances around furtively, but the motorhome is empty except for the two of you. “It must remain a secret.”

Still chuckling, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “So the great Charles Leclerc betrays his team for energy drinks. The Tifosi would riot if they knew!”

Charles winces dramatically. “Do not say such things! It is not betrayal, merely … creative problem solving.” He takes a long swig of Red Bull and grins. “The taste of the enemy is sweet.”

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. And I can’t believe Max is your supplier!” You shake your head in amusement. “Does anyone else know about this arrangement of yours?”

“Only Lando. We needed a neutral third party to broker the deal and make the exchanges.” Charles leans in with a playful smile. “So do not be getting any ideas about exposing our scheme, yes?”

You mimic zipping your lips. “My lips are sealed … as long as you share some of that!”

Charles pretends to think about it for a second before breaking into a grin and handing you the bottle. The carbonated liquid fizzes pleasantly on your tongue, the familiar flavor mingling with the surrealness of drinking Red Bull from a Ferrari bottle. You take one more sip then hand it back to Charles.

“Just don’t let Fred or Christian find out,” you warn teasingly. “Pretty sure this counts as treason.”

Charles just laughs. “They turn a blind eye. The team knows I perform best when properly caffeinated.” He caps the bottle and adds, “But no more for you, ma belle. I only have a limited supply!”

You pout dramatically. “Fine, keep your precious Red Bull. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone what’s really in your water bottle!”

The can of Red Bull that Charles rushes to give you tastes even sweeter than usual.

[rashomonss]

Readjusting

context: just a few somewhat angsty headcanons I have for when MC and Solomon return to the present after everything, enjoy!!

warnings: this does contain nightbringer spoilers

the past changes people

MC will often become more hesitant to talk to or even engage with the brothers. Due to being treated as an attendant in the past they now are used to it, so whenever one of the brothers tries to engage with them they find it hard to sit still or listen to said brother for long periods of time without feeling out of place.

MC will often mix up the fact that they are an exchange student rather than an attendant. When Diavolo claims that he wants MC to feel comfortable as an exchange student MC will respond with something along the lines of how they don’t need much because they’re the brothers attendant. Which in return gets a few confusing stares from others.

MC still carries out some of their duties as an attendant unconsciously. Such as keeping track of the brother’s schedules, events, student council meetings, etc. The brothers don’t mind at first however what they do find unpleasant is the fact MC always follows behind them instead of right beside them like they used too. This doesn’t register until one of them says something to MC, which they in turn respond with “I always follow behind all seven of you”. Which makes their hearts sink.

Still focusing on the attendant duties, MC will still continue to carry out anything asked of them without much of a fight. Since they were so used to carrying out such elaborate things when watching over the brothers in the past they are now used to doing such tasks for them. Most of the time this will confuse most of the brothers because MC is usually more vocal with their opinion on something.

MC will unconsciously be a bit harsher and stricter on the brothers than they usually were. Since being their attendant MC had to keep each of them on a tight leash so they wouldn’t get into trouble. So now in the present if they were to start fighting MC would be the first to show up to scold them instead of Lucifer.

MC will just straight up be petty with Lucifer for a while. Due to the things he said while they were in the past they still haven’t completely forgiven him. So whenever Lucifer mentions his “family”, MC finds themselves saying some remark along the lines of “well that doesn’t include me” or “just the seven of you I know. I leave you all alone” is enough to confuse and hurt the hell out of him. MC knows that Lucifer does really care for them in this timeline, but they can’t help it. His words really did hurt them deeply for awhile.

On another topic of MC’s attitude, Diavolo soon realizes that they are much more formal with him. The cute nickname Dia was dropped and he was always referred to by a title now. When Diavolo questioned them about formality MC simply explained that the past Barbatos didn’t like them referring to Diavolo in such a manner.

MC is now more vigilant around Satan, Belphegor and Barbatos, each for different reasons.

Satan is one that worries MC the most because they became used to having to deal with his violent outbursts and destructive episodes. So when Satan gets angry in the present MC will step in front of him and the brothers separating them. Satan soon grows confused when MC prepares a spell to restrain him.

Belphegor doesn’t worry MC as much as the other two, but after he found out they were a human in the past and tried to kill them again in response MC had to remain vigilant. They still do whenever they are alone with him. Which in turn makes the youngest guilty about the past.

Barbatos is someone MC keeps Solomon away from at all costs. After all MC was used to Barbatos teleporting the sorcerer around from place to place. It did become concerning when Solomon would show up later and later each time he came home. So to avoid that MC would make themselves and Solomon avoid the butler at all costs. However the present butler soon finds this behavior hurtful when MC constantly declines his offer to come over. In the end MC has a hard time remembering that this isn’t the past Barbatos.

Many soon noticed the strong bond MC now has with Solomon and of course they all become jealous. At first they noticed how MC would go to him for little things, or just prefer to be around him more, but when they asked about moving in with him rather than staying in the House of Lamentation it threw everyone for a loop. It made it even worse when MC said they’ll be there to help the brothers every morning like usual. They wanted MC to realize that they’re an exchange student not an attendant.

Many also notice how reliant they are on Solomon for certain things. Sometimes MC just needs Solomons presence in a room to be able to feel comfortable. If not MC will then become slightly annoyed or fidgety.

Solomon becomes more protective over MC without even realizing it. If he believes one of the brothers are being too bothersome to MC he will step in and whisk them away.

Solomon finds it easier to steal MC’s attention away now. Before when he would try and drag them away from the brothers, or even try and steal their attention for just a second it always failed. However with how close they both became in the past, if Solomon interrupts a conversation MC is having with the brothers MC finds themselves listening to him a bit more than the brother they were speaking with.

MC is much more reckless and blunt with their decision making now. Before they were a bit more collected with their thoughts. However being in the past made their impulsive decision making become a habit. Thus causing the brothers to sometimes question MC methods.

MC would often question the brothers as to why they weren’t in their demon forms. They suppose they just got used to seeing them in those outfits for so long now it became the norm.

[koolades-world]

Demons and Humans not understanding each other

Inspired by several other posts I read about this same thing <3 honestly even if the brothers insisted it was safe, I would consult Satan, Lucifer or Barbatos

this is mostly mammon freaking out

Humans think the deadliest things are like, adorable, like Cerberus. Mammon especially does not understand why Mc wants to run towards the very dangerous, very mad three headed dog. A few times he has had to throw Mc over his shoulder to keep them from staying behind

“MC CERBERUS BEING THE BEST BOY DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS HE WANTS TO KILL US”

“But he’s so cute! He just needs a snuggle buddy”

Humans can also be very stubborn if they’re too hot or cold but refuse to admit it. It’s fine with Lucifer does it because he’s one of the most powerful and therefore resilient demons in Hell, but not so much when Mc does it. Beel and Mammon love playing in the Devildom snow, but given that it’s the Devildom, it’s definitely a lot colder than it is in the human realm. Even after ten layers, Mc is still freezing but refuses to admit it.

“Mc, are ya shivering? I thought ya would be too warm under all that”

“I’m sweating with this one jacket”

“I’ll live! Let’s go back to the snowman”

“no I don’t think you will”

On the same note, sometimes demons forget humans can’t withstand crazy temperatures. Asmo will invite Mc to a popular bathhouse, sauna or hot springs, forgetting that the temperature would literally boil Mc alive

“Hey Asmo this is the place you wanted to go, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t is cute?”

“Everything except the part where I boil alive”

“what!”

Some foods can kill humans just by being near them so imagine how the brother would feel when they learned this, it’s giving that lunatic pudding incident with Diavolo from that one card

“Mc! You’ll love this. Open wide!”

“Asmo I feel funny”

“DO NOT FEED MC THE TAKEOUT LUCIFER SAID ITS DEADLY FOR HUMANS IN LARGE AMOUNTS”

“FUCK NOT AGAIN”

In retrospect, humans probably sleep a lot compared to demons. Some demons probably don’t sleep at all, except Sloth demons. Setting aside about eight to nine hours of the day just to sit idly might not make sense to them until they learn they will shut down without it

“How are you feeling about the exam we just took? Exam week is finally over.”

“Mc? Mc, Satan is talking to you. Why are you on the floor”

“MY HUMAN IS DEAD”

“No, I think they’re just asleep idiot”

“oh. wait, THEYRE ASLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL lucifer is gonna kill me”

I’d say both demons and humans are social creatures, but humans will go insane without social interaction. Yeah a demon would probably be upset if they didn’t talk to someone for thousands of years but I don’t think a human could last more than ten without losing grip on reality. Humans tend to copy each other, which is probably bizarre to demons. Humans don’t even understand yawning so demons definitely won’t

Going back to the food thing, demons can probably go ages without eating, besides Gluttony demons. Humans need to eat so frequently compared to them

“So you’re tellin’ me that if Mc doesn’t eat for a whole week, their insides start to eat themselves?!”

“Yes. But, Mc ate a few hours ago.”

(Mammon was already gone when Satan turned back around)

Demons probably also play game that would definitely kill humans. My brother and I used to play crazy games when we were little (our favorite game didn’t have a name but we would put Barbies in the toy train tracks and see what would happen when different Thomas and friends character would hit her. The train tracks would glow in the dark! I did not let him put my favorite doll in the train track and he had to listen since I was the older one, she was not a barbie and had bendy feet? that’s not for now) but we never seriously got at each other throats. I cannot imagine what games demons and demon children must play. Satan was born fully grown but imagine if he was born little and the brothers had to play his favorite games with him. I feel like they would find the Barbie game I played a little weird too. Like, they would probably tell me that I should’ve done it in real life since that would be better experience or something batshit like that

“Aww, Satan, do you remember all the times we played “Five minute eye stab” with Lucifer? You were so cute. Sometimes I think Luci let you win.”

“Do not talk to me Asmodeus.”

“I’m sorry, you played what?”

“One time we gave him an actual knife by accident and since he was good, he ended up stabbing Lucifer’s eye.”

“You’ll be next if you don’t shut up and let me read”

“HE WHAT”

“Oh he’s fine now, clearly. Only took him a few hundred years to regain normal eye functions”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Babe it is a miracle Mc is still alive

[avocado-writing]

Hi dear! I would like to appreciate your works. I really enjoy everything you wrote, Wish you have a great day! 💗

Since you're taking requests, could you please write Wade with a polite, sweet and delicate partners. He's with a person who's the definition of "Too pure for this world and MUST be PROTECTED at all cost" His partner showers him with love and validation, and always love to listen to him! Thanks! 💓

possibly based on real life events.

Wade Wilson is so in love, it must be sickening to everyone around him. 

In fact he knows it is and he does not care. He’ll say “look at this meme the love of my life sent me!” and the person who he shows will roll their eyes, as if you don’t have incredible taste in cat pictures. He’ll monologue constantly about how cute you are and how much he loves that scrunchy thing you do with your nose. He’s recited committed-to-memory facts about you so many times that his friends can parrot them too. 

“Yes, I know what their favourite film is, I know you took them to a special viewing of it for their birthday. It’s cute, Wade,” says Laura, patting him on the arm condescendingly. Well, it’s not his fault you’re so wonderful! There isn’t a single thing about you that’s not perfect. He’s constantly bowled over about just how much affection he can fit in his body for you. The other night he was going on about something stupid - he can’t even remember what now, maybe it was about the new Taco Bell menu? - and then realised you hadn’t interrupted him once to shut him up like most people would.

You’d looked over the top of your magazine at him when he’d pointed this out, brow cocked.

“Why would I want you to shut up? I like listening to you talk, Wade.”

Marry you. He’s going to marry you. Every day, then divorce you every day too so he can marry you again. 

You are probably too good for him. Most of his social circle thinks so. You’re patient and kind, when you’re not at your job - where you work at a charity adopting out senior animals, as if you could be any more of a fucking angel - you like to spend your time in his shitty little kitchen, baking desserts for him to get home to. He’ll find you getting Al to taste test for you and his apartment full of laughter and joy. 

Man, he’s definitely put on like, six pounds since the two of you started dating. He needs to be stronger in the face of your cupcakes. 

They are really fucking good though. 

He walks in that night with a plushie under his arm. It’s a cow. He remembers you mentioning offhand how cute you thought cows were, so he decided to grab the biggest one the toy store one the way home had just because he knows it’ll make you smile. You don’t need any more stuffed toys; you sleep with them all in the bed and they’re pushing him off the side at this point because of their sheer number but, well, he likes seeing you happy. 

And then he hears sobbing. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks, immediately panicked. Are you injured? Has someone come to hurt you - has he painted a target on your back because of his job? Bile fills his throat as he stumbles forward…

…and there you are, sitting in front of the TV, PlayStation controller in your lap as tears run down your face while the end of the game plays out. Wade has never felt such relief in his life, laughing as the ache of it is taken from his chest. You turn to him with wide, watery eyes. 

“Don’t you laugh at me, Wade Wilson!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But babe… are you crying at the end of Kingdom Hearts?”

“No!” you lie, trying to mop your face off with your sleeve. Then the music hits its crescendo from the crappy speakers and you start wailing all over again. 

He loves you. He’d kill a million billion people for you. It would take a hell of a long time but hey, one word and he’d do it. If anyone even lifted a finger to hurt you he’d execute them so thoroughly that every generation of their family would be wiped out of existence too. 

To put it in terms you’d approve of, he’d do anything for you. But he also knows you’d never ask him to. You’re just that wonderful. 

“… would it help if I got us take-out and you started playing the second one?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to confirm. 

“I could be in this fucking game, beat Donald Duck’s little feathery ass. Disney, make it happen.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pizza or Chinese?”

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[ellecdc]

This is my first ever time requesting and i feel a tad nervous about it. Since i don’t know how the whole thing works.

Okay so i've seen in your previous posts that you said you don't write for barty jr as a central character but imma request anyways and maybe just maybe i'm lucky and you do end up writing this request (no pressure tho sweetie)

Basically a Ravenclaw reader x reg x barty. Reader is a total sweetheart but also very witty, playful and sassy in a sweet way. and marauders are also involved in the fic. (Maybe reader is neighbors with James or maybe she's beasties with rem. I don't mind. you decide that.)

Your moonwater x reader one shot was so cute and i’m just craving more of your writing.

Anyways thank you and also if you don’t want to write for barty just replace him with another character or just ignore this whole request. 💗

🤨🤨🤨🤨 I wanted to say no on account of I really don't know that I want to write for Barty BUT....you're just too cute and I love you too much and I didn't want to say no to you on your first request [which: thanks so much for bestowing me with such an honour]. 🤨🤨🤨🤨 cheeky little minx, I bet you did that on purpose 😉

So I present to you, for possibly the only time ever on ellecdc.... poly!bartylus x Ravenclaw!reader

CW: Barty jokes (?) about wanting to kill people - very on brand for him

“Reggiiieeeee.” Barty whined as he walked into their shared dorm room where Regulus had been reading due to the fact that Barty had taken up residence in the Slytherin common room, making reading nearly impossible.

Regulus stifled a sigh and offered a begrudging “yes, my love?” as Barty belly-flopped onto the bed and muttered something (unintelligible) miserably into the velvet quilts.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Regulus asked, deciding to bookmark his place and give his boyfriend his undivided attention (anything less could end up being detrimental to both Regulus and Barty’s safety).

Barty lifted his head with a pout on his lips to look at Regulus. “How mad do you think Y/N would be if I killed Potter and his friends?”

Point proven. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Regulus deadpanned, causing Barty to groan and roll onto his side.

“It’s just she’s always spending so much time with them and they’re all so annoying. And I don’t want to tell her to not hang out with them” (that was a lie; Regulus has heard Barty tell you that the Marauders were 'no good company to keep' well over hundreds of times) “so, I thought it’d just be better if they...disappeared, you know?”

“What have you done?” Regulus groaned darkly, causing Barty to chuckle.

“Nothing! Nothing...” yet. 

“You do realize that your hit list includes my brother, right?” Regulus asked.

Barty looked at him like he was sort of stupid. “Uhm...duh, it’s called hitting two bludgers with one beater-bat. Do keep up.”

“Barty, you are going to scare her away...” Regulus pressed. “...you’re kind of scaring me away.”

Barty’s groan nearly turned into a shriek as he threw himself back down onto the bed in defeat.

“Fine. But when we’re trying to enjoy a nice moment with Y/N and Potter and his cronies interrupt, it will be all your fault.” 

And with that Barty got up and stormed out of the dorm room. Regulus sighed in relief and pulled his book back out.

So, when the three of you were wandering around Hogsmeade (i.e., you and Regulus were walking hand-in-hand whilst Barty followed, balancing precariously on the stone walls of bridges as well as some fences lining various properties (much to the shop clerks and homeowners’ chagrin), pausing to pet every cat he could find and seeing how many times he could skip stones in the pond [the answer was none, he kept throwing them too hard]), Regulus got proven wrong (somehow), and (even more importantly) Barty got proven right when Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus showed up.

“Hey guys!” You called cheerily, and Regulus was almost ashamed to admit that your sweet smile and kind voice cancelled out any chagrin that the appearance of his brother caused him.

“Hello gorgeous! Baby bro.” Sirius called with a wink, causing Regulus to roll his eyes.

“Can I help you four!?” Barty nearly screeched as he showed up seemingly out of nowhere, all but standing directly in front of you like he was trying to shield you from the sight a particularly horrifying broom crash.

“Barty...” You chided jovially, gently nudging him aside. “They’re just saying hello.”

Sirius looked rather chuffed that you had defended them. Regulus didn’t like that one bit.

“Okay, well hello. You can leave now.” Barty shouted.

“Oh, lighten up, Junior.” Remus called with a smirk. “We’re all friends here.” 

Barty scoffed. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than be friends with Gryffindor’s.”

“Ew.” Everyone else said in response.

“Come on, my sweet, beautiful, angelic, lovely, smart, wonderful girl. I don’t want you or our beautiful day to be tainted by such scoundrels.” He cooed at you like you were some toddler on the verge of tears from having dropped your ice cream on the ground.

You groaned a little bit but acquiesced, allowing Barty to turn your body in the opposite direction.

“Sorry guys. I’ll see you tomorrow for our study date!” You called over your shoulder, to which Barty quickly counteracted with a “no you won’t!”

“You know, love,” Regulus murmured into your ear, “you’d probably save him a little bit of grief if you at least didn’t call it a date.” 

“Perhaps. But look at him now.” You whispered back conspiratorially. “He’s holding my hand and talking a mile a minute about how much of his dad’s money he wants to spend on us at Tomes & Scroll’s.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smirk at that. 

A Ravenclaw may have been smart enough to come up with a plan like this, but only the influence of your two Slytherin boyfriends would have made you cunning enough to pull it off. 

AN: I don't know how I feel about this one bit

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Wait could you do something for Yandere!Rook when he stays over at Ramshackle with the SDC crew? I feel like if you showed him affection he'd take a mile. Like if you sheepishly told him you liked him; the next morning he's broken into your room and happily cuddling you (his prey) in your bed. I just want to see how a lovesick Rook would behave at Ramshackle during the VDC. (How long can he keep paying Grim off with tuna?)

Congratulations! You've acquired a second shadow.

The Devotion of the Rook | Yandere Rook Hunt

He absolutely would but you don’t need to be especially nice

All it takes is just one compliment

He’s so used to the sarcastic and teasing of typical NRC

But then there’s you smiling without any other intention then just being happy

“I love your hat!”

“Why thank you, beau filou! Now what can I help with!”

Thus begins a whole new extensive photo album of all things you

He was probably already curious because of your entrance to NRC but now he’s officially obsessed

It feels like fate when Crowley and Vil dedicate you to help with the SDC crew 

Now he has access to you so much easier

So when you do return to your room during a dance break and he’s in there

You shouldn’t mind him, he only misplaced a feather from his hat

Or how he can eagerly offer to do your laundry with the liberty of taking whatever the dirtiest object in there is without alerting you 

And the pictures

Oh the pictures

he screws up his sleep schedule and risks scolding by Vil because he’s having a hard time limiting himself

And he’ll find that’s how it always is with you

“Oh Rook if you’ll excuse I’ve got to get past to the bathroom.”

“Ah~<3”

“Uh are you okay?”

“Oui! I just was surprised by how soft your touch was.”

“Hey don’t be weird.”

It only worsens after you survive Vil’s overblot with him

So brave!

You joined him when you sensed Vil’s killed intent

So oblivious!

You just casually called possibly the most dangerous creature alive by a cute nickname and got him to smile

So supportive!

The way you cheered them on despite your little twitch everytime one of them messed up

It’s invigorating

Almost more than he has with Neige

But it’d be wrong to quantify his love for the beauties in his life

Hence why he won’t keep track of how many times he ends up following you more than he does Vil

Or how the ceiling he’d reserved for Neige is filled with pictures of you

Or how often he ends up shooting arrows in the direction of troublesome students who can’t seem to stay away from you

Or how he’s willing to continue spending his allowance to pay for tuna that keeps Grim from telling you of his growing scent in the Ramshackle dorm

“Wow thanks for helping me out Rook, I didn’t know you were into building stuff.”

“I’m happy to help you mon filou! Besides seeing you work up a sweat really does something for me. I love to help you and Grim rest in beautiful luxury.”

“Aw thanks! Ace and Deuce said they’d help too but something came up.”

“I see. A shame they’re missing all the fun probably wondering how they got locked in a room with Floyd. You can trust I’ll always come when you call! In truth one may even say I am your biggest fan!”

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : BACHIRA MEGURU

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : bachira meguru x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 640

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “wife”, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : i recommend reading isagi’s version first for more context and a hugee thank you to @nymphsdomain for finding the link to a rb and to aali <3 (@tteokdoroki ) for reblogging this and isagi’s parts in the first place bc shes the reason these could even be found again!! 

⊹ isagi’s version I kunigami’s version

Isagi could only huff out as he tucked his phone back into his pockets. He should’ve expected this honestly, considering he’s known the man for years now.

It’s been quite some time since Bachira’s been hooked up to the machine. Only a few minutes were spent calibrating it with some straightforward questions, but since then, he’s gone into full, honest detail to every question Twitter had for him. And it had every person in the room looking at him with either pure shock and/or amusement.

“…and that’s when I had her squirting all over the back of the team’s bus”

Kunigami spit out his water, and Isagi’s eyes grew wider than ever before as they both turned to him.

“What?! When did this happen?!”

Bachira chuckled at their reaction, “Last match ♡”

“Milo?”

“No lies so far,” Milo laughed.

“Wait…don’t Rin and Barou always sit in the back…“

“Yup” Bachira answered proudly.

“Oh my god. They’re gonna kill you when they watch this.”

“That’s if they watch it. Which they won’t.”

“Alright next question! Twitter user @/bachirasbitch asks What’s your wildest sexual fantasy and why does it include me?”

Kunigami whistles, “Your fans are just as shameless as you”.

“They’re right though. It does include them. And the rest of my fans too.” Bachira chuckles at the looks he’s getting from his teammates before continuing, “I’ve always wanted an audience for what me and Y/N do behind closed doors. I think it’d be pretty exciting knowing someone’s watching me pleasure my wife.”

“You should make an only fans account then,” the interviewer suggests. “Your fans would probably love that.”

“Now who says I don’t already have one,” he winks back.

“Well do you?”

“I don’t have to answer that. I’m here to answer Twitter, not you” he grins.

“Fair enough,” the man sighs. “Let’s see, we’ve got time for one more question for you. @/bluelickmyclit asks What’s the most awkward thing that’s ever happened between you and one of your teammates?”

“Ooh I like this question.”

“I don’t” chimed Isagi.

“So before my wife and I moved into our apartment, we used to be next door neighbors with Yoichi. The way the floor plan was had us sharing a wall between our bedrooms. I know, silly design. Now this happened quite some time ago; before I got married, and back when this guy—” he points his thumb over to Isagi who’s hiding his face in his hands “—was single. I don’t know if I’d call this the most awkward incident but it was pretty awkward, ‘cause there wasn’t a single night we went to sleep without hearing him moan out Y/N’s name. And I mean every night—“

“Ok!” Isagi interrupted, cheeks and ears tinted pink. “I think they get it”

“I don’t know why it took him so long to realize the walls were paper thin. Y/N and I aren’t exactly the quietest people out there. He had to have heard us every night too— ow” Isagi cut him off with a punch to the arm, sick of his teasing which only furthered Bachira’s amusement.

“I hope you know Y/N found it very flattering”

“Shut up and take the cuffs off.”

“She thinks it was cute”

“Kunigami, hurry up and connect to the machine.”

“I’m rather enjoying this, actually. How often was this happening again?”

“Every night” Bachira and Kunigami continue to tease Isagi, laughing at him as he attempts to unhook one teammate and attach the sensors to the other instead.

Bachira had never had so much fun in an interview before. He couldn’t wait to go home and tell you all about it and then watch it with you when it aired. But for now, he’d enjoy messing with his friends like this. And now that Kunigami was up next, he was looking forward to it even more.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

what’s your favorite scary movie?

summary: porn star eddie is doing a halloween film with his costar, one that involves a certain mask.

pairing: porn star eddie x porn star reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: being filmed, daddy kink, use of a realistic plastic knife (nothing weird with it, though), unprotected sex, creampies, choking, brief oral sex (m & f receiving), mentions of anal, breast play, anal fingering (f receiving), degradation, rough sex, kinda dubcon

a/n: im aware halloween is over, but its always Halloween in my mind! also, sorry if anything like this has been done. I just returned to tumblr, and haven’t read many fics here in like 8-9 months.

18+ ONLY. minors do not interact or follow, or you’re getting blocked.

————————————-

Ring! Ring!

The phone next to you was ringing its familiar ringtone, and you looked at it with an eye roll. Unknown number, typical. You were acting the part of someone who didn’t like spam calls, but you hated them just as much in real life, too. You turned your attention back to the TV, ready to forget all about it and delete any voice mail they may leave, when it began to ring again. The same number popped up, and you killed the call. They called again, and again, and after the fifth time, you’d finally had enough.

“What do you want?” you asked irritably.

“y/n,” a deep voice came over the phone. “How nice to catch you.”

“Who is this?” you asked. 

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, and you could hear a grin in his voice. “I was lonely, and thought I would give you a call.”

“Very funny,” you said. “Tell me who you are.”

“What’s the fun of that?” he asked. “Isn’t mystery supposed to be more fun?”

“Is it?” you asked. “You’re probably just someone I know, trying to play some kind of weird joke.”

“Am i?” he asked. “I don’t think I know you at all.”

“Then how did you know my name and my number?” you asked. “Answer me that.”

“Maybe I have my own methods,” he said. “Ever think of that?”

“Ha ha,” you said with an eye roll. You hung up, but the same number called again and you picked up. “Yes?”

“That wasn’t very wise of you,” he said dangerously. “You didn’t even let me ask my questions.”

“They’re probably something really fucking gross,” you said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Now, now,” he said, tsking. “What do you take me for?”

“A pervert,” you said.

“You’re right,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “But that isn’t why I’m calling you.”

“No?” you asked with a chuckle. “Coulda fooled me.” 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice.

“What the fuck?” you asked, sitting up on the couch. “What kind of question is that?”

“Are you going to answer it?”

“No, now goodbye–”

“Hang up again, and you’ll regret it.”

The threatening tone of his voice gave you pause. “Who is this?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked again.

“Whatever,” you said, and dared to hang up. It didn’t last long until he called again, and you rolled your eyes as you answered. “What?!”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not gonna entertain you,” you said. “You’re a fucking creep.”

“Just answer my question and I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I really like Psycho, Halloween, Friday the 13th, The Exorcist.”

“I know you like Friday the 13th,” he said, and he laughed evilly on the other end. “I can see that you’re watching it right now.”

You froze, sitting bolt upright. “What did you just say?”

“Never mind that,” he said. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No..” you answered automatically, looking around the darkness of your windows for any signs of life. “How do you know what I’m watching…?”

“Just a guess,” he said.

You got up and turned on all the lights, looking around again to see if you could spot someone. “Look, I need to go–”

“Don’t hang up,” he nearly shouted.

“Look, this isn’t funny or cute anymore,” you said. “I’m really uncomfortable, so if you could please–”

“You look really sexy in your pretty lingerie,” he said. “I mean, I think that’s what it is. You’re wearing that pretty pink babydoll with a thong. You like to tease people, y/n? That isn’t very nice.”

“Fuck you, creep,” you said.

“You didn’t ask what my favorite scary movie is,” he said.

“I don’t care!” you cried. “Leave me alone!”

“It’s The Strangers,” he said, and you could swear his voice sounded different now. More echo, closer somehow. “You know, that movie where those people break into that house.”

“I’m–” you began, and your back collided with someone as you backed away. 

You played the part of terrified really well, and you could see the cameraman giving you a thumbs up as you kept the facade. You turned around slowly, shouting in surprise when you came face to face with a man in a mask. He was in all black, and the rest of his mask was black as well, except for the face. It looked like a ghost, its mouth agape in some kind of eternal shock. In his hand was a knife, but you knew it wasn’t a real one. It was plastic that was made to look like the real deal, something the director found at a joke shop for a little bit of nothing. You shrieked and tried to run away, but he grabbed you and held you against his back as he stroked your hair in a near-loving gesture.

“Shh,” he said in your ear, trailing the knife down your arm. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you said, feeling yourself already starting to get wet as you felt him hardening against your ass. “Why are you here, then?”

“I was hoping maybe I’d get lucky,” he purred, moving the knife between your breasts as you shivered. “You’re so much hotter up close.”

“And what do YOU look like under that thing?” you asked, your voice conveying the whole “stall him” vibe that the director wanted you to go for. “It’s not really fair that you see me and I can’t see you. If you’re really not gonna hurt me, then why won’t you show me?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “If you do one thing for me.”

“What?” you asked, turning your head so that you could look at him slightly. 

“Show me those pretty, perfect tits,” he said in your ear, running the knife between them again. “Outside of that baby doll.”

“And what would you do for me in return?” you asked, turning around in his grip and looking into that mask. “Let me live?”

“Maybe,” he said, looking you up and down. “But first, I’ll just show you my face if you do. Let’s start there, yeah?”

You smirked at him, lowering the thin straps of the baby doll and biting your lip. “You’re probably some total asshole under there. I mean, who calls random women at nine on a Friday night, stalks them, then breaks into their house?”

“Keep going,” he said, his eyes on your breasts. “Show me.”

“You’re a real pervert, you know that?” you said.

“And look what you’re doing,” he said smugly. “Giving into me.”

“You came here to kill me,” you said. “I know that to be true, but it seems like you changed your mind. Why?”

“Because why would I waste such a good set of tits?” he asked. “And I know that pussy of yours is also perfect.”

You swallowed, but smirked as you pulled the baby doll down. You exposed your breasts to him, and heard him suck in a breath. That wasn’t scripted; it was his genuine reaction. You bit your lip again, smiling as you stood before him. He took the knife and dragged it over one erect nipple, causing you to shiver and moan slightly. That also wasn’t scripted or an act, and you knew that whatever happened from this point onward, it was going to be genuine. Well, aside from the basic acts they wanted you to perform on each other, but the reactions? It would be all you, and him. 

“Like what you see?” you asked, shaking them a bit as he groaned.

“Fuck yes,” he said, his ringed hands coming up to grope them. You moaned a little, head tipping slightly as he massaged them in his hands. “I guess I need to hold up my end of the bargain, too, huh?”

“Mmm hmm,” you said, mewling as he gave your nipples a soft pinch. “Shit…”

He stepped back, and you whined at the loss of contact. He lifted the mask with one hand, revealing his face underneath. You acted as though you were surprised to see just how sexy he really was, and his pierced tongue came out between his lips with a devils-horn gesture at the top of his head. You smiled, moving closer to him and running your hands down his chest as he looked you up and down again. Soon, he was grabbing your head forcefully, and drawing your lips to his in a passionate, hard kiss. It turned sloppy, your hands wandering and his, too, finding purchase on your hips as he squeezed. Your tongue played with his piercing, and you could feel the presence of the cameraman in front of you both as you made out. One hand tangled in his hair, the other palming the big bulge that was forming in the front of his pants. His hands came up, grabbing your breasts hard as you moaned into his mouth. He tugged your lower lip between his teeth, moving away to start kissing down your neck. 

“You feel so big,” you breathed, mewling as his teeth found your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You have no idea,” he said, pulling your body to his before grabbing your ass. “I want you so bad.”

“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. You pushed him down on the couch, straddling his lap before grinding against his dick. “You know what I want you to do?”

“What?” he panted. 

“Want you to rip this thing off of me,” you said in his ear, tugging the lobe in your teeth. 

“Oh?” he asked, grabbing the back of it and tearing it down the middle. “Like that?”

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, kissing his neck as he moaned. “And I want you to put the mask back on.”

“Okay,” he said, smirking before his face disappeared beneath the Ghostface mask again. 

“You know what else I want?” you asked, moaning as you continued to glide along his clothed erection.

“Hm?”

“I want that big, thick cock down my throat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and it would have infuriated you under any other circumstances. Right then, though, you were too turned on to care. You moved from your spot on his lap to slide to your knees, keeping your eyes on him as you did so. You palmed the bulge in his pants again, feeling how hard he was and suppressing a moan. He watched you from beneath the mask, both of his arms stretched along the back of the couch as you pulled his pants down. His breathing picked up a bit as you put your mouth over his cock through his boxers, and soon, you were pulling those down, too. He was exposed to you now, all nine inches of his thick, pierced, flushed erection at your mercy. As per the script, you teased him a little, sucking on his piercing before swirling your tongue around his slit. He mewled, panting as you took the tip in your lips and sucked eagerly. His arms remained on the back of the couch, not moving yet as you started planting messy, noisy, open mouthed kisses all over the entire length of his cock. You moved farther down to take his big balls into your mouth as well, sucking on them with a moan as you jerked him off skillfully. He was panting a little more heavily now, and you traced his large vein with your tongue as you made your way back up his length.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he growled.

“Sorry, uh…” you said. “I don’t know what to call you.”

“You can call me Daddy,” he said, reaching down with one hand to stroke your cheek. “And what shall I call you, huh?”

“Anything you want,” you said with a wink, spitting on his cock and jerking him off. “Such a big dick, fuck.” 

“What did I say about teasing?” he asked, tilting your chin up with the knife.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you said, opening your mouth and taking his entire cock.

You gagged for a moment until you got your reflex under control, which was something you’d gotten good at in the business. You could feel him in your throat, stretching, his piercing at the back of it as you drug your head up, then back down. He was moaning above you under the mask, his head tipped back as he tangled a hand in your hair. You looked up at him, bobbing your head slowly as you gripped his base in one hand. You began to jerk him off in time with your movements, ignoring the camera man as he came around to get some close up shots. It felt as if he wasn’t even there, that’s how into it you were starting to get. You could feel your pussy throbbing, wetness settling in the thong you still wore as you sucked him off.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, tugging on your hair as you hollowed your cheeks. “You’re so fucking good at that. You’re a filthy little cock slut, aren’t you? I mean, who else just gets on her knees for a man she’s just met, especially one who broke into her house to hurt her?”

You responded by twisting your wrist, eyes still on him as you sucked him off messily. Drool cascaded from his dick and onto the floor below, and your throat was starting to hurt a bit from his piercing. But he was so hot, THIS was so hot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. His hips bucked upward with a loud moan, and you choked as more of his cock went down your throat again. He stroked your cheek tenderly, before yanking you off of his dick. Spit bridged your lips to the tip, and you looked up at him in surprise. Was this scripted? You couldn’t quite remember, but either way, it sent a fresh wave of arousal to your cunt.

“Rub my dick across your tits,” he said. 

“Those are one of my biggest insecurities,” you replied, but did as he asked as he moaned filthily. “But you like them, huh?”

“Fuck yes,” he panted, watching as you sucked his tip again. “You’re so hot.”

“Thanks,” you said, and you continued to alternate between rubbing his dick over your breasts and sucking him off. After a little while, he forced you to stop by grabbing your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he growled. “Did I say I was ready to cum yet?”

“No, Daddy,” you said, reaching out to jerk him off. “But I can’t stop worshipping this huge, perfect dick of yours.”

He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the couch, causing you to whine. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You already did,” he said, grabbing your spit-soaked chin in one hand and forcing you to look up into his mask. “Now, it’s my turn.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to take him into your mouth again, but you were greeted by a light slap to your cheek. “What?”

“I said stop it,” he said, pushing you away as he got up off the couch. “Sit up here for me.”

You whined, but did as he said. You sat down on the couch, watching as he lifted the mask again. He kissed you hungrily, sloppily, one ringed hand squeezing your jaw before it found your throat. He choked you for a moment, and you moaned as his hands found your breasts. He massaged them skillfully, his rings cold against your heated skin, his fingers rubbing your nipples until they were hard buds. He pinched them, tugged on them, swiped his fingers across them, all while you moaned hotly in his mouth. He grabbed his plastic knife, running it over & between your breasts before dragging it over your waist and stomach. 

“I’m going to show you just what I’m capable of,” he said, kissing down your neck after leaving a series of hickeys in his wake. He nipped at your collarbones, before he found your breasts. “You have the hottest body I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“All the other girls you broke in on weren’t as hot, huh?” you asked.

“Not even close,” he said, pulling one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking generously. “Such an amazing set of tits.”

“Fuck…” you whined, one hand in his hair as he tugged your nipple in his teeth. You knew the cameraman was probably getting a pretty good shot with that; Eddie was skilled, he knew what he was doing and how to work a woman’s body. You were reacting to him, wetness pooling in your thong, and you spread your legs for him as you grabbed one of his hands. “I want you to touch me. Please, I need it.”

“So needy, princess,” he said, giving your other nipple the same treatment as the last. He drug the knife down, running it over your cunt as he smirked. “I’ll bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you? You’re such a depraved fucking slut, you know that? Putting out for me like this, soaking that pretty thong for me.”

“Touch me the right way and find out, asshole,” you challenged, and you could feel him grinning against your breast. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said, smiling up at you as he started to kiss his way down your stomach. They weren’t gentle, tender kisses; they were needy, hard, bruising. You knew you’d have some marks there tomorrow. “Just that you think it’s so funny and cute to be calling me names right now, when I’ve got the upper hand.” 

“Who says you’ve got the upper hand?” you asked, and he slapped your thigh hard as you yelped. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Shut up,” he snarled, kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs as wide as they would go. He peeled off your thong, and the cameraman moved behind him to get a shot of your pussy. “Fuck, look at that. So fucking pretty and so goddamn wet.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, shivering as he ran the knife over your bare cunt. “Daddy…”

“I’m going to make you fucking scream, baby,” he said, and he immediately began to devour you.

You had never been eaten out like that before, either off camera or on. The way his pierced tongue moved through your cunt, so skillful and hungry, had you moaning loudly. You usually had to fake your moans, or at the very least, over exaggerate them. Not now; right now, every single noise that fell from your lips was genuine. He was devouring you, his tongue flicking your clit with every drag upward, his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave more bruises. You reached down to grab his hair, and he moaned as you pulled it roughly. His piercing dragged through your saturated folds, slowly and teasingly, before he pressed it tightly against your clit. More wetness soaked his face, and his fingers soon joined the mix. The cameraman was getting some great shots, and Eddie began to fuck you roughly on his fingers while his mouth did its magic.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you gasped, rutting against his face as you clenched around his fingers. “I need more.”

“More?” he asked, his free hand dragging the knife over your thigh. “How much more? I’m giving you all I can, you greedy whore.”

“I want more,” you insisted, your eyes nearly rolling back as he started sucking on your clit. “Please…”

“Is this what you want?” he asked, gathering some of your wetness on the fingers of his free hand and pushing a finger inside of your ass. “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasped, looking down into his big brown eyes as he started to eat your pussy again. “Fuck, please…”

He took his fingers out of your cunt, instead focusing on your ass. He shook his head back & forth rapidly, growling, his eyes still trained on your face. You kept looking down at him, playing with your breasts as his tongue swirled your clit. You tugged your nipples, and soon he was slapping your hand away with his free one to take over. He squeezed it, massaging it, pinching the nipple as hard as he could. You cried out, and you could feel the familiar sensation in your lower stomach that indicated an orgasm was imminent. He kept going, lapping at your pussy as if his life depended on it, shaking his head occasionally, using his piercing to his advantage. He began to fuck you on his tongue as he fingered your ass, moaning as more of your taste flooded his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled, moaning as he reached down to jerk himself off. “I’m going to fucking cum just from eating your pussy.”

“I’d rather you cum inside of me,” you said. “I wanna feel that big dick in my tight, wet pussy right now. Wanna feel you pumping me full of cum, and feel how good you are inside of me. Please.”

“You’d rather cum around my dick?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

“Mmm hmm,” you said. “But you gotta put the mask back on.”

“Tired of my face already?” he teased, pulling his finger out and putting the mask back on. “Alright, have it your way. How do you want me to fuck you?”

“From behind,” you said.

“Just like a disgusting fucking whore, huh?” he asked, slapping your ass as you stood up. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Then do it,” you said. “Stop talking about it and just do it already, asshole.”

He slapped your ass hard, leaving a large red handprint in his wake. You yelped but giggled, wiggling your ass toward him as he spanked it again. He held the knife to your throat, pulling you up by your head as his mouth found your ear. You could feel his giant cock throbbing against your ass, and knew he was close already. But if everything you heard about his reputation was true, you knew that didn’t mean anything. He could apparently hold off for quite awhile, even that close, and you were looking forward to having him inside of you. In fact, you needed it more than you ever needed anything. You were tired of doing films with men who had average or below average dicks; they didn’t do anything for you, and you always had to fake it. But with Eddie? You highly doubted you would have that problem.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll slit your fucking throat,” he said in your ear, pressing the hard plastic a little more firmly to your throat. “You’re in no position right now to be a fucking bitch.”

“I think I am,” you said, grinning smugly at him as you pushed back against his cock. “You’ve got me right where you want me, right? So, instead of making empty threats and being a douchebag, why don’t you just fuck me?”

He slapped your ass hard again, dragging the knife across your throat ever so gently. “You’re fucking lucky I think you’re so hot. Otherwise, I would be ending this right fucking now by cutting you wide open.”

“Fuck me already!” you said. “You’re–”

You were cut off by a loud moan as you felt him pushing inside of you. You cried out as his thick length stretched your pussy, and you could feel his piercing deep inside. He held onto your hips to anchor himself, bending you over the couch as he pushed himself deeper. You nearly screamed as you felt that piercing on your cervix, but it hurt so good. You reached down and squeezed his hand, and you could tell that he was trying hard not to break character to hold your hand. He had to know how it felt, and you could tell that he was holding back, even still. The director seemed not to notice, though; he just instructed his cameraman to get a shot of his cock buried deep inside of your pussy. He was almost fully inside, and it took you a minute to adjust to how it felt. Never had you been this full, never had anything felt so good, and you weren’t sure how long YOU would be able to last. He was moaning behind you, and you felt his dick twitch. That caused you to moan filthily, and you looked behind your shoulder into his masked face, a smirk on your own.

“What are you waiting for, Daddy?” you asked, biting your lip. “Fuck me.”

He started to thrust, keeping them slow and shallow at first. The cameraman looked up questioningly, and the director simply shrugged and instructed him to keep filming. You moaned, feeling that piercing against your cervix again with every movement inward. He kept hold of your hips, and soon, he was fucking you a little harder. You knew that he was making sure you were okay first, something that he seemingly didn’t do with any of his other costars. Maybe he found a soft spot for you, or maybe the rest of them were used to taking dicks his size. Either way, you thought the gesture of going off script was rather touching, and you looked back at him with a smile. You couldn’t tell if he was reciprocating, but the sharp thrust inside of you somehow told you that he was.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet,” he said, starting to absolutely DRILL you as you nearly screamed. “Listen to that, can you hear it?”

You could. As he fucked into you harder, you could hear just how wet you truly were for him. His fingers dug into your skin, his breath in your ear, and you just moaned as you clenched hard around him. That caused him to groan, and you smirked as you did it again. This brought another loud crack to your ass, and you yelped as the knife made another appearance at your throat.

“Stop doing that,” he growled. “You needy bitch.”

“Sorry,” you said, but did it again.

He stopped thrusting, putting the knife down to grab your throat with his hands. He choked you for a moment, chuckling darkly as you kept clenching around him. He began to move again but kept his grip, letting go only when you started clawing at his hands. He reached around to grope your breasts, rubbing the nipples as he absolutely pounded you against the couch. He was panting and groaning, the sounds filling the air as the cameraman got another shot of him fucking into you. You could feel your lower stomach tightening, but you weren’t ready for this to be over yet. Fuck, he felt so goddamn good; you never wanted it to end. You would have been content going on forever just like this, with him inside of you as you whined desperately. He knew you were getting desperate, too; he reached down, rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles as you cried out. You clenched again, his hands now on your shoulders as you braced against the couch. He drilled your needy, soaking cunt, each bump to your cervix causing you to moan even louder.

“Cum for me,” he said. “Show me just how much you fucking love what I’m doing to you. Show me what a greedy whore you are for my cock.”

You moaned, and were shocked to see that he was pulling out of you. The director was about to intervene, but Eddie was pushing you onto your back on the couch. He lifted your legs to his shoulders and pushed inside of you again, causing you to moan hotly as he filled you up again. The director stopped and instructed the cameraman to keep going, and you looked up into his masked face with a look of pleasure on yours. You arched under him, writhing, your hands finding his clothed back and digging your nails into the fabric. He pounded you hard, the new angle causing him to hit into your sweet spot. He didn’t use his entire cock this time; instead, he decided to get creative, and fucked directly into your G-spot. The feel of the piercing against it was so fucking good, and you tore at his dark shirt as he pounded against you.

“That’s it,” he cooed, the strokes of his cock remaining shallow and deep as your mouth fell slack. “Cum around my cock, princess.”

“Fuck,” you whined, your jaw still open as your head tipped back. “I’m gonna cum so hard, Daddy.”

“Cum for me,” he coaxed, his fingers rubbing hard circles on your clit again. “Do it for me. Show me how desperate you are to let some stranger fuck you like this.”

Tears began to leak out of your eyes. They weren’t bad; it was just so much, so overwhelming. You could tell that he was having doubts, so you sat up slightly to bury your face in his neck. He groaned, thrusting harder before pushing you back down. He pinned you to the couch, both of his large hands holding you down as he mercilessly pounded you. More tears leaked from your eyes, and he laughed wickedly under the mask.

“What’s wrong?” he taunted. “Is my dick too big for you, you disgusting slut? Can’t take it all?”

“No, i can,” you said, trying to get out of his grip. 

“Then take it and cum for me,” he coaxed, fucking you as hard as he could. “Go ahead, show me you can do it.”

It didn’t take much more for you to cum. A few more strokes of his cock, a few more swipes with his fingers, and that was it. You screamed in pleasure, and none of that was exaggerated or fake, either. You squirted around him twice, and the director was staring in awe as the cameraman caught everything. You kept arching, moaning, bucking up against him as he continued to pound into you. He was panting above you under the mask, moaning as you felt him twitch inside of you. He was fighting hard to keep going, but you knew he was going to lose that fight very soon. You reached down and took his knife, holding it up with a smirk.

“You wanna hold this to my throat again?” you asked. “Maybe that would get you off.”

He took it and did just that, holding it on your throat as he pounded you. You moaned, clenching around him, bucking your hips up against his thrusts to aid him. He looked down at your breasts, then back to where the knife was held to your throat, and you felt him twitch twice. You knew it was coming and, sure enough, it did a moment later. He came hard inside of you, moaning through it, his head bowed as he allowed his orgasm to take him over. He continued to thrust until it was done, stopping and nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling out. But he wasn’t finished, and you already knew what was coming because of the script. He pulled you to a sitting position and opened your legs, eyeing your dripping cunt as he rubbed the knife between both of his hands. 

“Look at that,” he said, running his fingers through your sensitive pussy before he knelt in front of you. “I made such a mess of you, didn’t I?”

“Mmm hmm,” you said, moaning as he lifted his mask. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I think you know,” he said, dragging the knife over your thigh again before he started eating you out once more. “I’m nowhere close to being fucking done with you, you fucking slut. If you think that I am, then you’d better think again.”

“So much for scary movies, huh?” you asked, moaning as he began to devour your pussy even more desperately. 

“I think this is much better,” he said, eating you out more feverishly. “You know what we should try? You know, since you’re such a filthy girl.”

“What?” you asked, moaning as he fucked you on his tongue.

“Giving it to you up the ass,” he said. “I think that would be fun, don’t you agree?”

“And cut!” the director called.

You whined as Eddie broke away from you, standing up as he helped you. The director was coming onto the set to talk to the cameraman, both of them seemingly pleased with what they’d gotten. Eddie sat the mask and the knife down on the couch, grabbing a water as someone on set offered one. He handed it to you, and you accepted it with a big smile. You took a drink, and Eddie’s hand was on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. He pulled his pants back up and gestured for someone to bring over your clothes. You slipped them on once they did, and Eddie wrapped your jacket around your shoulders for you with a smile. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I? I tried to be as careful–”

“No, I’m okay,” you assured him. “Really. I just wasn’t used to someone that big.”

“A lot of the women aren’t,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I always ask them to let me go in slow and careful, but they never really let me. I guess they don’t want to shatter the illusion. It’s just…you were crying, and i was so scared that i was hurting you.”

“Well, I can promise you that I’m totally fine,” you said, taking another sip of the water. “Do you think we did well enough for them?”

“Oh, I think we did,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Something tells me they’ll be asking us to do another one together very soon,” you said. 

“In that case,” he said, smiling as he leaned closer to you and offered an arm. “How about I buy you dinner? I know I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite tonight.”

You grinned, taking his arm with a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

____________

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[rr311]

❥# — 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 fluff, softie!bakugo, cursing

☆ — 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 he shows you his soft side ☹️

❣︎ — 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 I got this idea from listening to a song ☹️ I’m so lonely that i had to write this because I need comfort in my life. it’s bad. anyways enjoy!

the song in question

𝖪𝖠𝖳𝖲𝖴𝖪𝖨 𝖡𝖠𝖪𝖴𝖦𝖮 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍

weird as it is, katsuki had a habit of showing you his soft side. one being he can’t keep his hands off you. he’s clingy, real clingy. It was shocking of how much he would touch you, and on top of that he was protective too. overprotective you would say. whenever you guys were doing practice missions and one of the guys (kaminari or mineta) would look at you with heart eyes, he would always stand behind you glaring at them. by the aura that flamed around him, they would end up getting scared or nervously laughing looking away from you. knowing exactly why you smiled shaking your head with a sigh turning around to spot katsuki looking away with a scoff, “don’t look at me like that.” you raised a brow placing a hand on your hip not even willing to argue with him, only shaking your head walking up to him. “you need to stop.” pecking his cheek as he grinned with a shrug. “not my fault those damn idiots keep staring at you.” l you shake your head watching him walk past you with a chuckle but gasp feeling him pull you by your waist as he did.

what else is weird that ever since he started to have that change in his attitude, he’s been showing affection around everyone but it would be small minor things. like holding your hand, whenever you guys are watching a movie or sitting on the couch he or you would put his arm over your shoulder, or whenever it’s just you two out in the dorms he would always back hug you enjoying the comfort he got from your warmth, giggling each time. “kat, what’s goin on?.” he would hum holding you tighter, “shut up loser..I just had a long day.” smiling everytime using your hand to ruffle his hair. he would do this so everyone knows who you’re with, though he didn’t like the constant teasing mina and kirishima did he still does it so no one gets any smart ideas with you. you even knew he did it to remind everyone that you’re dating him, but in reality.. he only makes that excuse so he can hold you 🤫.

he also loves touching you. like really much. though it was not a common thing he would tell everyone, touching is his love language. you thought it was cute teasing him everytime but he thought it was stupid pushing you away each time, but couldn’t help but have that cute grin on his face. the relationship was cheesy— according to kaminari and mineta probably due to jealously that bakugo out of all people got to pull you, but in reality it was cute and everyone thinks you guys look adorable together. bakugo would always yell at them feeling flustered but you would always laugh saying thank you to everyone, “awww look at them!.” mina cooed as she saw you both on the couch, katsuki’s arm wrapped around you as you were cuddled to his side eating. “they look like a married couple.” kirishima added on with a smile but his smile dropped eyes going wide as he saw bakugo’s eyes on them glaring at em both. mina and kirishima looked away from them pretending they were doing something as you heard katsuki scoff. “what’s wrong?.” you asked taking another bite from your plate looking up at him who looked at you with a frown, “pinky and shitty hair fan girling again.” he rolled his eyes as you laughed shaking your head. “let em. there’s nothing wrong with that.” you muttered, leaning up to peck his lips hearing them “awww!!” again giggling pulling back. katsuki groaned glaring at you as you laughed, “you did that on purpose didn’t you?!.” you poked your tongue out shrugging, “I don’t know..did I?.” before you knew it, he pushed you off the couch with a smug grin feeling your glare on him. “I’ll kill you!.” — “If you can catch me nerd!”

“they’re so cute together.”

“couldn’t agree more.”