#hope nobody comes to make this a BIGGER mess

[axetivev]

— Summary: Childhood friends with the strongest sorcerer. But high school separates you, but oh! When you two became older, you met again. You thought Satoru was still Satoru. But guess, you are wrong!

— Warnings/Tags: Yandere!Satoru, Reader is older than Gojo (2 year gap), Ooc Gojo (?), Childhood friends to lovers, smut, semi-public sex, marking, Mentioned multiple rounds, Mostly Vanilla lol.

— Words: 2.4k

— A/N: yeah, perhaps this isn't one of my best works,, writerblock and work really drains the living shit out of me. but really, i enjoyed writing this. requests are now open btw! I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoy writing this !! <3 (spoilers, a new oc is coming up !)

— Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Male!reader.

You’ve known Satoru since practically diapers. From your childhood, you remembered vividly that you were known to eh the energetic one while Satoru was more of the quiet one.

You remembered that day you met with his blue eyes, informations about his curse technique, everything. Your parents, well. They expected you two wouldn’t be so close, in their eyes, you were two years older then him and you too were weaker then him. They thought Satoru wouldn’t even want to play with you or even took a glance. But they were very very very wrong.

Despite that you were older then him. Somehow, you were more like the child then Satoru. Satoru himself? He was like the older one. Even if people doesn’t know much about them, it’s was so easily mistaken between who’s older and who’s younger. Not to mentioned, Satoru was also slightly taller then you.

“Gojo!!” You were giggling as you showed the white haired boy the frog in your hand as the frog let out a small sound. “I found a little frog!! Take a look!!”

Satoru looked at you, titling his head, slowly inspecting the certain “frog”. “...That’s a toad.”

“But it’s cute, right!” You smiled brightly at him. He can practically saw small stars inside of it, thought he doesn’t say it. Satoru loved it that you were smiling at him.

Only at him. No one else. Only him.

However, when highschool roles around. Specifically in Tokyo Jujutsu, it’s somewhat difficult to believe that you and Satoru was somehow, separable. You were close with Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara. Personally, in your eyes. Satoru already had his own friend group. Seguru Geto and Ierie Shoko. So why would you bother him so much since he already had more friends? Besides, in Tokyo Jujutsu, he was practically famous! Even once, you saw one of the teachers got embarrassed simply by looking at him.

But that decision might be the stupidest thing you’d ever do.

When you went to a mall with Nanami and Haibara. Time really messed with you, the first energetic child now become more of the calm one. You were looking at Haibara who was eagerly running around while Nanami, who was beside you kept pinching the bridge of his nose. Muttering about something you cannot really heard since the mall was rather filled by many.

“He has too much energy...” Nanami rubbed his face, you just chuckled beside him.

“Guys!!” Haibara eagerly walks up to you, grabbing your hands as he squeezed it. “I founded a photo booth right around the corner! Wanna check it out?”

“Yu—” Nanami was about to capture Haibara’s wrist, only for him to run away quickly. Nanami groaned as he followed the brown haired male’s steps.

You were just laughing to yourself seeing how funny and amusing the scene is to your eyes. Really, it’s fun to see both of them almost like tom and jerry whole you were just trying your best to not make a bigger scene. After your laugh, you were about to follow both Nanami and Haibara.

“[Name].”

You stopped mid track, your eyes widened and you felt your body tensed up. That voice... sounds so familiar. You immediately turned your head, you saw... no one. Nobody. Where you hearing things or that was actually someone calling you? You don’t really know, you were still puzzled by who’s voice it was—standing alone though many people were walking around you. It felt weird... you stood there long enough for Nanami and Haibara to go up to you. Their face was showing clear concerned. But you brushed them off.

“Just! Hearing... things. Nothing to worry!” You shrugged to both of them. Trying to act calm. But you knew; someone was watching you.

Time sure flies fast.

You lost Haibara. But still having Nanami, that’s now becoming more quiet from the past years. You can’t blame him, you also grief a lot since Haibara was the sunshine, with him not being around. Soon enough, you and Nanami slowly grew apart. Making you feel lonely most of the time.

You also heard about what happened to Satoru after years of basically silence. Honestly, you had your own urge to talk with him, but your parents wanted you to focus on school. Even so, that same voice that called you, the first time you heard it in the mall was played repeatably in your mind. Or what it actually that same voice kept calling you? You don’t really know, you just kept your mouth shut since there’s practically no one you can speak with.

And years of work, you now, found yourself to be a sorcerer. Working in the same high school you use to attend, a lot of students love you, and some hated you. The students who loved you said that though you’re strict, you were kind to them. Having actual effort in teaching them, while those you hated you? Yeah. The strict part—but some also had respect on you. Some saying you were better then a certain teacher that many girls in Tokyo Jujutsu often say was “too-handsome-to-be-a-teacher”.

It was a normal day in your class, you taught some of the students about basic stuff, and training. As the bell rang, before you could dismiss the class, a tall male came to the class. All of the students were gasping as they stare at the sorcerer who was standing with a stupid grin in his face, white haired, blindfolded eyes… Wait. Satoru—!?

Students already rose from their seats. Running to Satoru as if he was like an idol who would hiatus for a very long time after their first appearance. You just stood in your desk, he was like you remembered, his features were like you remembered. He’s just taller now, maybe—even taller then you. Satoru greets the students, like they were friends since forever, until that covered eyes of his stared at you, straight to your soul. It… hah?

“[Name].”

That voice… Satoru’s voice was similar—no, identical to that voice that often called you. Making you froze, slightly tensed up. You saw him walked up to you, you just looked at him, it was clear he was taller then you. Some of the students, who looked at both of you actually surprised to saw you being somehow shorter then you, when they knew you were older. But they didn’t really expect that you were shorter then him—now, that doesn’t really matter for your current position.

Satoru’s hands both clamped over your shoulder, you flinched. “Goj—”

“Let’s make out.” His voice was loud enough to be heard by every student in your class, your eyes widened, heck. Even some sorcerers took a peak from the door, Satoru doesn’t care probably, because you were literally being thrown to his shoulder before he dashed with a blink—!

“GOJO—HEY! PUT ME DOWN!!” You were practically yelling while you turned your head back. But the male seemed to be stubborn, unwilling to let go.

“Satoru, [Name]. I didn’t call you by your last name.” That was all he said, before he found an empty room, immediately locking the door. How did he even get access to the key…?

You were practically manhandled by Satoru, his hands, surprisingly bigger then yours, grabbed your hips before giving it a squeeze, you swore it will bruise later on. Satoru’s right hand, originally on your hip moved to your chin. You were now face to face with the man once your childhood best friend that grew apart, Satoru sighed as he pulled his blindfold. You then met with his blue eyes, your eyes widened for a second, your hand slowly tried to reached his black cloth.

“Ah, Goj—Satoru, your—" “I know, [Name].” Satoru held your wrist, giving it a tight squeezed that make you yelp. He led your wrist to his lips, placing a kiss—almost hesitant.

“[L.Name] [Name], finally… I got my hands on you. Again,” he empathize that word, you slightly titled your head. Satoru leaned forward, his teeth slowly contacting over your skin. Not enough for blood to flow but enough to make you gasped. “It’s been painful seeing you around him.”

Your legs tightened around his waist, you tried to said something, but Satoru pushed his index and middle finger to your mouth as he licked the place he had bite. He then slowly unbutton your shirt—placing wet kisses and some bite marks along the day. Your hands moved to his hair, as you yelp from the pain, but it felt good. Fuck, or were you just horny?

“Seriously, you were distant when we were in highschool,” Satoru let out a bitter laugh, his free hand moved down, almost urgently trying to unbuckled your belt. “Especially when you’re with them.”

“Sa–Satoru…” You whimpered, Satoru’s breath reached your ears. You gasped when your crotch, clearly show a tent forming was squeezed by him. A smirk played on his lips the moment Satoru unzipped your pants, letting it fall to the ground.

A whine escaped your lips when Satoru bit your ear. You haven’t or couldn’t see it, but you swore there’s a lot of marks in your body at this point. Satoru crashed his lips against yours, a moan escaped your lips as his tongue easily dominating yours. Such of a heated kiss that you failed to notice that fact Satoru already ripped your boxers as he continued to kiss you breathlessly.

The kiss wouldn’t end if you haven’t pulled his hair, a thin thread of saliva connecting between yours and Satoru’s lips. For a moment, you two just stare at each other. It felt a little… uncomfortable, to say the least. Just him, staring at you slowly ticks you off.

“…What?” You broke the silence. Satoru playfully rolled his eyes.

“Admiring you, but it seems you’re impatient,” Satoru let out a chuckle, you raised an eye brow—soon enough, you felt a fingers, specifically three, entered your hole. “You barely changed…”

His fingers thrust right into your prostate. Almost immediate, you thought at least he would go slow. But he doesn’t choose that route—his fingers opening you up—scissoring you so much as if he prepared you for war. You wrapped you wrapped your arm around his neck, resting your head over his shoulder as you let out a quiet whines. You don’t even know if this room was able to muffled you voice.

You felt your orgasm was close. Your hands clutched over his backed clothes, your cock already spitting precums but Satoru pulled his fingers away with a grin, while a disappointed whine escaped your lips. You were about to protest—really, however it never happened when you felt something already rubbing your hole. You looked down as your eyes turned from weariness to horror.

How big was that!? 9 inches!? It’s also thick… who the fucks need a penis that big!?

“It’s big isn’t it?” Satoru rested his head on your chest, with a grin that you’d gladly slap him. For now, you couldn’t. “Hit my back five times if necessary.”

You felt his cock entered your hole—fuck, he haven’t even moved a single inch but you already felt your own dick twitching. Honestly, you can lie that it felt weird that you were about to get fucked by your own childhood best friend, and you also can’t lie that it also excites you. Satoru’s hand tightened around your hips, letting you adjust abit before thrusted his cock. A moan escaped your lips as you met with your climax. Your cum stained your shirt, it felt humiliating thought no one was watching.

Even so, Satoru smiled, he rested his head over your shoulder—taking your right hand and intertwining them with his—his pace was unforgiving. Your arms tightened around Satoru’s neck, your hands clawing his still cloth back. And your moans spilling out, you tried to remind yourself—mentally scolding yourself that there’s a chance people could hear you, now, it’s too late to think about it. You just kept on moaning like an animal in heat.

“[Name]…?” Satoru placed a kiss over your shoulder, making your dick twitched. “I’m close… can I fill you? Pretty please?”

“Fuck, damnit fine—fine! I’m—I’m coming!”

Soon enough—you were met with another orgasm, a loud moan escaped your lips. Begging no one would hear you, Satoru continued his unforgiving pace—your toes curled, you’re still sensitive after all. Satoru then paint your asshole white, it felt so warm—too warm for cum. A disappointed whine escaped from your lips when he pulled his cock out, your hole was dripping. With Satoru’s cum. You looked up, meeting with the blue eyes from your childhood. Seemingly dark with something—you swore you see hearts as his pupils.

“So? How was it?” Satoru’s eyes were back to normal when he spoke.

You sighed at his words. “It’s my first time, and you just went out and—”

“You’re a virgin!?”

“…Yeah?”

Satoru smirked, you saw those similar pupils resurface—he held both of your wrist and put them on top of your head as you felt his tip rubbing your rim. “You’re so innocent… I promise I’ll be gentle this time.”

Every part of your body was sore as you come out from that room you’ve had multiple rounds with Satoru. He was beside you, holding you so tightly, almost as if you’d go by a blink.

Not with this jelly legs—!!

Just right the moment the two were out, Yaga Masamichi. Was patrolling around the halls and saw you, giving a wave.

“[L.Name]!, it’s rare to see you coming home late.” He came up to you, giving Satoru a nod.

“Wait, what time is it?” Your voice coming out raspy. You swore you’d beat the living shit out of this dumbass so called “strongest”

“It’s currently… ah, 6:45 P.M.” Masamichi said casually. Your eyes widened, Satoru in the other hand, held back a chuckle.

“I— 6:45!?” Your voice was practically echoing around the halls. Satoru smirked, guiding you to go out from the school. Not even giving Masamichi a glance. His eyes were just on you. Before he carried you—your body in his arms while your hands on his chest.

“Rest.” Satoru told you, you should of just refuse. But you nodded, you make yourself comfortable as sleep slowly taking over you when your head was on his chest so prefectly.

“Mine.”

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[maybankxw]

LIVING ROOM

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings: mature content ahead! [ unprotected sex; public sex; alcohol] minors dni!!!

summary: basically having sex at a party

word count: 2k

a/n: oh its been forever since I wrote my previous work, but wow I've missed it a lot and all of you guys! I hope you enjoy reading this x

links: masterlist / taglist / ask box

any feedback would be appreciated!

“Living room.” I stared at the message that popped up on a screen, someone’s arm nudged mine and I immediately locked the phone so nobody else could see the sender’s name.

“Are you coming for a swim?” Sarah yelled through the sound of music blasting out of the speakers, “Everyone’s gathering outside,” her finger crooked pointing at the door, “I haven’t seen JJ though,” she finished the remains of her drink, throwing her crumpled plastic cup into a pile of trash on the table.

“I haven’t seen him either,” I yelled back, leaning close to her to hold her by the shoulder, “I’ll join y’all later, okay?” 

“Sure thing,” a sly smile curled on her lips, “Oh and if you see JJ by any chance, tell him we’re out, will you?” “Course.” “See you then!” she waved her hand up in the air heading towards the exit and I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I’ve been holding. My head was dizzy from the alcohol and the stuffy air in the house. I spun around, checking my surroundings just to see most of people going outside and the ones who weren’t, well, were too drunk to get up. 

I made my way to the living room, anticipation searing through me, nervousness coiling in my body, despite the whiskey in my system I couldn’t shake it off. It was dark, the skies outside turned navy blue, a few lanterns casted a dim glow over the walls and there he was –– JJ Maybank sprawled across the sofa, watching my every step. He never failed to make my breaths hutch and my heart pound faster, drunk or no, he had an effect on me.

“You’re here.”

His gravelly voice made me swallow thickly and clutch my phone tighter. I took deliberate steps in his direction, “Sarah was looking for you.”

Grey t-shirt with a little logo on his left was tight around his body covered with a checkered shirt draped over his shoulders, a pair of jeans that fitted perfectly and the usual boots. He let out a chuckle, dropping his head, his hair messily hanging low, shading his face, a can of beer rested in his hands, it must have been his tens or even eleventh, “Is this why you’re here?”

“No.” He moved closer to the edge, parting his knees, stretching his arm, inviting me closer. His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, lustful blue eyes stared into mine, beckoning me.

The metal can went to rest on the floor beside the sofa and his hands went busy with me, huge palms gripped my waist as he pulled me closer, his head bent up to look at my face, chin grazing my stomach, “Maybe we should stop hiding?” his voice was a low murmur as his fingers skimmed my sides, my hips, fiddling with the hem of my dress. Then abruptly he pulled it up to my chest, “I can’t keep pretending anymore.” Soft lips pressed my stomach lightly and my knees buckled at the sensation of his skin on mine. His impatience was showing, his hands captured my ass and he pushed me further into him, leaving wet kisses all over my skin. I grasped his hair, tugging and pulling at the pleasure he caused me, making even a bigger mess on and in his head, biting my lips to prevent from making any noise, couldn’t give it up to him yet.

He squeezed my ass tighter, completely burying his face into my stomach, nuzzling it with his nose, his hot breaths burning my skin, making my stomach tug with new force.

Suddenly, I sensed his vulnerability, which boosted my confidence and as adrenaline kicked in, I straddled his hips, making his back meet the backrest of the sofa we were seated on.

His ocean blue eyes carefully traced every inch of my face, trying to read my emotion, we were in the dark, but still could see each other just fine. My cheeks were flushed, palms clammy, lips parted as I tried to get my breathing back to normal, but it wouldn’t calm down.

“So what do you say?” he put a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb running over my cheek, “I want to touch you like this in public too.”

“We’re drunk,” a lazy smile stretched on my lips, “We might as well make a stupid decision.”

“Stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” he chuckled, pulling me closer by my hips.

“I don’t mind,” I whispered, cupping his face, stroking his cheek, his skin feeling prickly under my touch.

He covered my hands with his, swivelling his head to the side to kiss the inside of my palm, his eyes never leaving mine.

I couldn’t help anymore, desperate, I needed to taste him and feel him, be with him, now and forever.

My fingers slid lower and I wrapped them around his throat, brushing my lips against his teasingly, my eyes fluttering closed at his presence so so close. My hips shifted, causing him to groan, but he let me tease him a little more, grinning as I left tiny strokes on his lips, “Kiss me already, will you?” his laugh rumbled through me, causing my own smile to stretch out.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I want more than that.”

And just like that I tasted him, the remains of alcohol on his lips mixed with the scent of his cologne made me dizzy as I gasped for air, his tongue fighting with mine. His huge palms slipped down my shoulders pulling the straps of my dress off and he started nipping on my neck, veering to my collarbone, peppering me with kisses. My face was burning, my eyelids heavy. He was everywhere, invading my space and yet, that wasn’t enough.

“JJ,” I breathed out as he sucked on my neck, leaving a bruising spot, “I—“

“Mhm?”

“Need you,” my eyes searched for his as I ripped the clasps on his shirt open, pulling the grey tee over his head, running my fingers along his naked torso, his chest heaving as he watched my every move.

He was swift to unzip my dress and pull it off completely, leaving me naked. His eyes darkened with lust and he crashed our lips together again, his chest pressing mine, his palm flat on my lower back scooping me closer.

I fiddled with his belt and zipper as we kissed, finally undoing it open, tugging his pants off along with his boxers, his hips flexing upwards to help me get rid of the clothes, his cock jutting out to his stomach, hard and sleek, pre cum oozing out.

My fingers wrapped around the base, bringing a throaty growl out of JJ’s mouth. I gave him a few gentle pumps, kissing his shoulder, my thumb rubbing the head of his cock, spreading his arousal, feeling myself clenching over nothing, aching for him to fill me. 

“Jesus,” he threw his head back, holding my wrist as I stroked him faster, trailing a path of kisses up his throat to his chin. 

“Come here,” he made me let go, lifting me up, stroking my entrance with his tip, slowly lowering me onto him, giving some time to adjust. I gave him a satisfaction of a moan finally coming out of me, tightening around him and easing him out.

“Oh—,” I panted into his ear, hanging over his neck, gripping the back of his hair, deliberately moving my body back and forth, “I’ve missed you,” I blurted out, lifting myself up and down repeatedly, my hands roaming over his neck and chest and stomach as his hands roamed over my sides, caressing my back and the back of my neck.

“I’ve missed you too,” JJ made me look at him, kissing me softly, slipping out and lowering me down the sofa, my back meeting the coarse upholstery.

He was towering over me, his knees on both sides of my thighs, trapping my body beneath him. JJ’s gaze darkened as he studied my face, pure need written all over it, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it, his breathing turning rapid. His sandy hair hung low and messy, covering his forehead. Warm fingers gripped my throat, pinning me down as his hips flexed and he sunk in me slow and deep eliciting a moan out of my mouth. A little necklace caught my attention as it dangled over his neck with every new thrust he made. 

“Fuck—“ I let out a breathy sound, feeling him fucking into me, picking up the pace, his eyes misty, watched me, intimidating. He had full control over me now. 

I was panting, one of my hands settled on his waistline, while the other scratched his bicep, “JJ,” I choked out.

“That’s right, pretty, say my name,” his thumb brushed my lower lip and I parted them, taking his finger in my mouth, sucking on it and muffling my whines as he pounded harder, his hips meeting mine, the sloppy sound of our bodies filling the room, overlapping with the faint sound of music playing in another room. My tongue kept flicking the pad of his finger as he held my neck, his hold tight enough to keep me in place, but not cutting the air off for me.

He felt good, filling me in, holding a steady rhythm of his thrusts.

“J—“ I moaned, running my fingertips across his ribs and down to his stomach, feeling his muscles flex, “I want you to have me from behind.”

He pulled out slowly, leaving me empty and needy, swiftly flipping me over, my knees and palms bent and propped onto all fours, “Whatever you ask, gorgeous.”

I heard him groan, sinking back into me, his hands heavy on my hips tightening their hold. He leaned closer, weighing me down, his lips finding their way to my shoulder, I could hear his throaty growls as he thrusted deeper, lengthening his strokes, his mouth  inches away from my ear.

“Fucking love having you like this,” he grunted, leaving yet another kiss on my back and pulled back to quicken his pace. Thick fingers came to play with my nipples, pinching and squeezing, making me cry out. I pushed my ass back to meet his movements wanting all of him, as close as possible. 

My face buried into the pillow that rested right beside us as I muffled my cries because it was getting unbearable to stay quiet and there were still people in the house. To my surprise nobody even bothered to come here, which was also relieving. 

My hands went back to rest on my lower back, palms up in the air and I felt one of his covering mine, our fingers partly laced.

“Give it up to me,” his voice came out gravely  and low as he gasped for air, our bodies sweaty and hot. I clenched him and then a few more times, before locking in a long spasm, screaming into the pillow, squeezing his fingers so hard it must’ve been painful. 

He fucked me through my high, chasing his own, thrusting harder. The room smelled like perfume, alcohol and sex. A few more pushes and I felt him pull out, cum rushing out to paint my back, thick and warm ropes dripped down my skin. I let out a sigh, trying to catch my breath, relaxing just a little, listening to him stroking his cock.

He put a kiss on my ass cheek, before slipping of the couch, “Stay here.”

I turned my head just to see him grabbing his shirt to wipe me clean, “It will get stained,” I protested, but he kept doing it anyway.

“I don’t care about it, I care about you more.”

I smiled to myself, getting back up to my feet, to finally see his face again, eyes hazy and drunk on sex, hair sweaty messily falling all over his face, chest wet, drops of sweat scattering down, his lips were parted as he waited for my response, “So can I take your ‘I don’t mind” as a yes?” he caught me by my waist, pressing me into him, our skin sticky as he slightly swung us from side to side, smirking.

“Mhm, I don’t wanna pretend anymore either,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him deep and gentle, feeling his heart thumping against my chest, “Let’s go for a swim then? Together.”

[knavesflames]

sucking arles dick???😁😇

Hi!! Apologies this took so long.

Word count: 725

Contents: blowjob, tears, praise

[scheduled post]

Nsft utc!

She’s gentle at first, her lips which are so usually set in a line turning up into a warm smile as you sink to your knees. Her eyes glint when your mouth instinctively opens at the feeling of her ever so gently tapping the tip of her on your face, and the second your tongue swirls over her, she lets out a breathless “good girl”.

She watches you with her lips parted, her eyes half closed and glazed with the pleasure she’s attempting to hide she’s feeling— she’s the fourth harbinger, known for being mad and cursed, of course she struggles to express her pleasure. At least, to begin with. She’s still, letting you work and get used to her because yes, she is bigger than average, and yes, it’s a struggle for you. With your head against the bed and your knees on the floor cushioned by a pillow (she’s mad and cursed, not cruel as some might think, though she enjoys the misconception), you know that once she gets worked up enough there’s no escape.

Her charred fingers grip the bedsheets, pink, just like you wanted them. You remember when you asked so kindly for them.

“Tell anyone that I sleep in a bed with pink sheets with flowers on and you’ll regret it, my dear.”

You, of course, promised you’d tell nobody. Though, you have to stifle a laugh when she’s grumbling about work and climbing into said bedsheets, her expression a stark contrast to where she’s about to hibernate for the night.

She can’t seem to help herself, you look so beautiful on your knees, and she starts gently moving her hips, grabbing your wrists with such care and placing them above your head. A loose grip, but a grip nonetheless and you know not to move them away from her. Her gentleness proves her love for you, but you know not to be disobedient (unless you want to cum so many times you can’t take it).

Her breath becomes heavier, quick puffs of air leaving her lips. She does not make a sound, and yet you can see how her cheeks begin to flush and her thrusts begin to speed up until they become more than gentle thrusts, but an attempt to get as deep into your mouth as she can. And when she finally hits the back of your throat, a groan does come out of her, though strained and muffled by how hard she’s gritting her teeth. She stays there, enjoying the sensation before you cough, your body heaving for a split second before she pulls back, bringing strings of saliva with her.

She gives you respite for only a few seconds before she continues, taking a step forward so your head is pinned to the bed, so you get to watch as she fucks your throat with reckless abandon in the hopes of chasing the high you both know so well. She hits the back of your throat again, and again, and your gagging and choking only becomes more prominent every single time your nose meets her pelvis.

“You take me so well, do you not, doll? Look at you, so messy for me. My pretty little whore.”

You attempt to hum in response, but she only groans again. Her grip on your wrists becomes tighter as she loses her sense of self control. With her ragged breathing and her eyes on you as tears prick at your eyes, she begins fucking your throat fully, shallowly thrusting and relishing in every single sound you make. Gags and choking and the lewd, lewd sloppy sounds echo the lavish bedroom, and before long, a few tears slip down your cheeks, mingling with the spit on your chin. Yet, the only thing you can focus on is her babbling praises, becoming more and more incoherent.

Her thrusts slow, but harden, and within a few more jerking movements of her hips, she makes a sound akin to a whine and a growl combined. You feel the strings of cum slide down your throat, and just the way she likes it, you swallow every last drop before she pulls out and bends down, her thumb swiping over your bottom lip to clear the drool threatening to join the mess on your chin.

“You did so well. So, so well. Come here, angel.”

[alavestineneas]

Poisonous bites

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it. warnings: mentions of minor violence, mentions of cheating, not really canon-compliant, blood and shitty people in shitty relationships word count: 3,7k

Part 1 is here

author's note: part 2 of Losing Dogs is here! thank you for the love and support that you showed for the first chapter - hope you enjoy this one too! we all love some twisted people in fiction :)

She knows.

It's in his mind when they get into the black car, away from the president's party and obnoxiously loud music, with a few new cuts on his hands and faint blue marks on her neck.

She knows.

It's the only thought in his head when it hits the pillow at almost midnight, as her warm body lays beside him, breathing even so faintly. His brain almost explodes under the pressure of guessing her thoughts, hidden behind the soft smile and gentle touch. She, the ghost wrapped in opulent sheets, is a new figure on the chessboard. The crippling fear of being watched cuts his forehead in sharp, taunting pain.

YN, the blind lamb with sharp teeth, knows.

-

He did everything right. A whisper here, a bribe there, and no one noticed how a small, silly rumour grew into a threat almost overnight, pointing its sleek, twisted fingers at the President. Corrupt, illegal activities—that's what the press called them, but the truth was much less poetic. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, and some people shouldn't be trusted.

It was supposed to be a simple payback—let the bastard simmer in his own venom, betrayed by people he considered allies. But then it became something bigger: the sacred place is never empty, and the herd of sheep is always in need of guidance. That's when Coriolanus knew what he had to do for the better future of Panem. For the pride of his family. For the satisfaction of his hunger.

He is deep in his thoughts when YN appears in the doorframe; she is careful not to make too much noise as she waits for him to look up. Beautiful, like death herself— Coriolanus saw her enough times up close to recognize the dark glimmer in her eyes.

''Come here,'' he motions, clearing the space on the table for her to sit.

She does. YN's steps are light, even in the heels she always wears. There were a lot of things money couldn't buy, and class was one of them. Nobody came close to her upbringing; therefore, nobody could come close to him.

''Here,'' he hands her his speech, a careful combination of neat letters. Coriolanus watches with starved eyes as she reads, studying every expression and passing of emotion on her dolled-up face. ''What do you think?''

''It's good, really good.'' YN nods, a small smile covering her lips. ''You were always great at this type of thing, since the academy.''

Coriolanus feels a cold sting in his abdomen; she knows him. Before he became a man, before he got a chance to truly be the person he was destined to be, YN remembers a peckish, awkward boy who was pathetic enough to let an animal fool him. 

''Thank you,'' he says, placing a hand on her thigh and slowly sliding it up. He likes the way her body reacts in response, leaning closer.

It doesn't matter who he was before. He won, and he is almost at the top—a few steps, and there won't be just her body underneath him—the whole country will be in his hands.

-

Her husband is messed up. The way he fucked her in the dining hall hours before the guest arrived, in the same dining hall where they stand, brings a smile to YN's face. Nobody suspects a thing, not even her closest confidants, who now sipped from the stylish tall glasses beside YN, conversing on everything and anything but the swollenness of her lips.

Coriolanus wants to play in politics now that he has had enough of game-making. Like a small, pouty child tired of his old toys. The thought of her husband in a one-piece strikes her as funny; her mind is drawing the picture vividly. He was, for sure, a mama's boy. He still is.

It's cute, the way he kisses her aged picture when he thinks YN can't see him, or the way he buys the rose female perfume nobody ever uses—its smell still lingers in the air every time the maids change the sheets. The only woman who can truly love is a mother, he told her one day. The only woman he thought was deserving of loving back.

YN watches as he approaches the group of men with confident steps. The people are right, the way is wrong—if it were that easy to fit in their circle, it wouldn't be as important. Just like she predicted, he is quickly cast aside to the benches of dialogue; the tall figure of her husband lingers silently, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It's entertaining to see him slowly boil, which goes unnoticed by everybody else in the hall. YN observed him for years to crack his facade as swiftly as she does now. A few moments, and he will decide to walk away, unable to swallow his pride back anymore, and there will be no chance of meeting the people he desperately needs.

''Excuse me for a moment,'' YN smiles at the women beside her, placing her glass on the gilded trail. They are good people—sure, some a little less bright and some a little less assertive as she is, but still, most of the information she finds useful comes from them—silent furniture, as they often joke. They are noticed no more than vases in the corners of their grand mansions; just like their houses, their husbands come in different shapes, and just like houses, the inside is always the same. Empty.

''Good evening, gentleman!'' she chirps, putting on one of her many expressions. She never felt bad about changing her face to fit the situation better; after all, they were all just different versions of her. ''I believe you already met my husband.'' YN delicately diverts her gaze from the black mass of suits to her husband's face, sending a loving smile his way.

The men are smitten, as usual. Who could've thought the young lad was the owner of this house? YN doesn't pay them much attention; they are never the driving force behind connections. Instead, she turns to the only woman in the bleak company.

''Missis Nej, what a lovely broch! You have to tell me where you got it; the details are incredible!''

It was true—YN sees no point in lying about liking something when the compliment is right there—a beautiful dove broch with sparkly gems instead of eyes, placed on a delicate lace.

The woman's face lights up at her words. ''I made the design myself, and then my seamstress pulled it together. I am glad you like it—isn't the stitching so fine?''

''It is! I wish I was as creative as you are; my imagination is only enough for the table centerpieces.''

''You know what? I have many other drafts at home; why don't you and your husband stop by for tea for a few hours? To see if my seamstress could come up with something for you?''

''Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful! What do you think, Coriolanus?''

What can he think? Her husband is happy things are going his way, of course, but there is something else in his gaze that makes YN's heart skip a beat. Suspicion. The only thing she should be scared of was her husband's mind—the deadliest of the weapons, his paranoia. It, like a vicious exotic, has to be put away from his reach; it sinks its teeth in everything Coriolanus feeds to it, and if he does not, turns onto him.

He smiles and nods, wrapping his hand around her bare shoulders. YN thinks she ought to be more careful; it was her job to keep him on a leash, like a beat she signed to care for. Whose fault would it be if the wild thing did what wild things do—bite?

-

He almost doesn't have any opponents left. Those who dared not to support the young candidate from the party were quickly silenced, and those who tried to get their hands on Snow's place were eliminated. What was better was that nothing could be traced back to the blonde male in a red suit. YN didn't worry about that.

She had to work overtime to make sure their paths didn't cross. Coriolanus never told her his plans so she could build hers. Oh, no. She had to scurry, like a rat, searching for his ideas to make sure they didn't clash with hers because, just like her mother told her, you can't put on everything best at once.

That's why YN sits in the dim, foul-smelling room on the outcast of the city during what was supposed to be a lunch hour. She almost laughs at the thought of her Coriolanus finding out where his wife spent this afternoon— in a brothel, in clothes that weren't even hers, without her usual jewellery and signature scent.

The door to the room opens quickly, but YN doesn't even bother looking in its direction. She knew what she was going to see there, so why bother?

''YN,'' the man in his forties breathes out, ''you came.''

Jerome. A tailored suit of dark brown, matching his hair. Wealthy, pretty enough, and damn stubborn. One of the few who refused to step down in elections, one of the few who still had a huge chance at winning them.

''Of course, I did—how could I not?'' She sheds a tear, breathing in his scent and hiding her face in his lean chest. ''I missed you, J; I missed you so much.''

They used to fuck before she married Coriolanus, ever since she turned eighteen. He even wanted to marry her for some time before she married Snow. YN was quite popular with the suitors; her husband was a fool for thinking other men didn't notice her. They did.

Jerome crushes her lips with his, leaving no time for talking. He was a serious man—a tough man, even—the type to endure the hardships of life without complaining. He is the type to get what he wants, no matter the obstacles. YN thinks he could've been on top instead of her dear husband if she only chose to marry him, but Jerome is too human for her. He is a man, a man who takes pleasure in her, and YN can't stand it. She likes her lovers without weaknesses, and Jerome isn't like that.

When an hour passes, YN thinks it is time to return home; she kisses Jerome goodbye one last time and waits for him to exit the room as quickly as he enters. That's the agreement: he pays for the room under his name; he deals with hosts and room service. YN just has to be, and he is happy with that.

She waits exactly fifteen minutes before she picks up her coat from the floor and puts it on—fifteen minutes is what was needed for a junkie she hired to stab Jerome in the ally seven times—for every year of their age gap when he first kissed her at her birthday party. Symbolic: She pays attention to the details, not only on her high-end dresses. YN imagines the headlines in the papers tomorrow morning: a respected politician found dead near the whorehouse. A death fit for a pig.

She leaves the building in a good mood—one more step to being the first lady of Panem—and she still has an hour before Coriolanus returns home. YN has everything in check, down to the smallest gist, except for the blonde man in the telephone booth across the street.

-

Coriolanus is mad. Another man, behind his back, even if for the sole purpose of eliminating him. He doesn't like that YN makes arrangements when it is he who is the man of the house, the driving force behind the successes. She forgot her place, and if he has to remind her, he will. Coriolanus always liked YN better with her mouth shut.

''How are things at work?'' YN asks, twirling in front of the mirror in their bedroom. It's like she doesn't notice his annoyed stare or his jealous eyes following her every move.

Coriolanus doesn't answer. He pulls her closer and takes off her robe in one swift motion. It falls on the floor, light blue fabric pooling around his feet. He searches for something—anything—to indicate another man's presence near her body or in it. Nothing—her skin glows under the faint light of lamps, free of any marks or scratches.

Coriolanus sighed with relief, his hands letting go of YN's hips. She looks at him, confused.

''Is there anything wrong? Why did you stop?''

He wants to slap her. To make her apologize, to make her beg for his forgiveness. But something in her deep eyes and painted lips makes his head cloud, stirring around a familiar mix of emotions. Anger. Lust. Fear. Maybe she was the death herself—he wouldn't know. The way YN laughed as he kissed her exposed skin, pressing a little too hard for it to be enjoyable, made blood rush to his body. ''Tell me,'' Coriolanus whispers in her ear. "Have you ever killed?"

YN grins, holding his reddened face in her hands. ''No, never.''

Coriolanus chuckles softly, diverting his gaze to her chest. A lie.

He turns her around, pushing her body on the bed before getting on his knees. That was the night he knew she had to die.

-

It wasn't hard to make her fall in love with him. Flowers on the doorstep of the mansion just in time for her to leave the house, along with a handwritten note declaring his undying affection. Make her less alert; make her more vulnerable. YN gave him the key to her demise easily—it was always him.

Coriolanus was good at ensuring everyone benefited him, and his wife did nothing better than play right into his hands. YN willingly planned her own funeral with her every move—she knew too much about his secrets and had become a liability. If only she knew better than to play with fire, she might have stood a chance.

It's a shame, really, to kill her so soon. He was almost enjoying her—the way she trembled under his touch, the way she whispered his name in ecstasy. But that was the way of the world. There could be only one winner, and Coriolanus knew better than to believe his wife when she promised to always be loyal. If your dog bites you, someone else is feeding it.

''New wine?'' YN motions to the tall bottle on the table as they eat dinner. ''Is this the one from the Darians?''

Coriolanus shakes his head. Darians. It was like fate was testing his patience, as if one headache wasn't enough. The only one of his possible opponents in the upcoming elections held a good amount of votes, mainly because of his recognizable name. The Darians were wine magnates, with at least forty vineyards under their name. Of course, they gifted wine bottles for holidays, and of course, it was nothing but a slap in the face—Coriolanus could very much afford to buy his own bottles.

''I bought this one yesterday. Would you like a glass?'' he pours before YN has time to agree; the dark red liquor fills their glasses, turning the transparent walls slightly pink. Coriolanus watches as his wife takes a big sip, surprise evident on her face.

''It's sweet,'' she announces but quickly corrects herself. ''But it is good. Unusual, but quite nice.''

''Really?'' He acts surprised and takes a small sip, not to raise any suspicion. ''It indeed is.''

They continue their dinner as usual, with occasional remarks here and there. Everything goes according to plan, with YN drinking from her glass more than twice more. Until it doesn't.

Fifty-five minutes.

This is how long he has before the poison kills him. Given that YN weighs less and consumes more, she should start to portray the first symptoms. She doesn't.

Twenty minutes pass, and Coriolanus feels a slight nausea. Twenty-five—his head starts lightly spinning. He watches his wife put down a fork and stare at the sky through the open window. If she faints now, he would still have time to drink the antidote, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles at his wandering gaze and asks for dessert.

When thirty minutes pass, Coriolanus feels a stream of blood travels down his chin onto the freshly washed shirt. He can't keep himself on the chair, sliding down from it on the carpeted floor. The surrounding furniture stands as if in a haze, and the only thing he can make out is the nearing steps of the heeled feet.

YN says something, kneeling beside him and putting his head on her lap, although he can't understand the word she utters. It hits him like a brick wall—the smell of roses radiating from her, the same perfume his mother wore. Her hands, although adorned with more rings than his mother could've possibly owned, are just as gentle when they touch his forehead.

''I'm sorry,'' he tries to choke out, but all that comes out of his mouth is hot, thick blood.

-

When Coriolanus wakes up in the hospital, he is frantic. The only thing he was familiar with was the only thing he tried so hard to escape. Fear. It spreads through his body, paralyzing his limbs in the white room of a singular bed. It chocks him, tugging the strings in his throat to leave hot, burning holes each time he swallows. It burns, and bites, and twists in his stomach; if he survives, YN will get her revenge.

That's why she kept him alive—to taunt and mock. He lost, once and for all, and got himself into a corner with no escape. There is no point in begging, no point in lying—his wife knows everything he did, and she won't hesitate to let the whole country know. Outsmarted, outplayed. Alone.

His eyes wander across the room in a last resort—he will take his own life, and she will have no power in making him a laughing stock. But the hospital room is empty; the only thing besides a small coffee table and bed is a pile of newspapers. Coriolanus stands up and almost falls in an attempt to reach them, yet manages to grab one. Just like he predicted, on the front page of it is the perfectly painted face of his wife; the beauty of it is disturbed only by a single tear rolling down her cheek.

POISONING ATTEMPT ON A FAMOUS POLITICIAN 

Three days ago, an attempted poisoning took place in the Snow's family's mansion. Our correspondent was lucky enough to ask a few questions to YN Snow, the wife of the victim.

''Tell me, Miss Snow, why do you think you and your husband were the targets of this crime?''

''I think it is rather obvious that motive was political; we all know that my husband posed a serious threat to Ethan Darius because he was estimated to win instead of him. That's why he decided to kill him in that dirty way, like a snake, with poison, instead of losing to him in a fair competition like any gentleman would!''

''And do you think there are any correlations between Mister Darius and a string of suspicious murders of civilians and people higher in power?''

''As far as my knowledge goes, the court is still deciding on the matter, but one thing I know for sure: if Ethan Darius went as far as to try to kill his opponent, what indicates he wouldn't have done the same with others? ''

''People of Panem were moved by the love you and your husband seem to hold for each other ever since your wedding, but the way you fight for justice made many wonder - will we see you as a first lady of Panem soon?''

''I just do what any person would—it is my duty as a wife and as a citizen to advocate for those who were wronged. As for your question, I do think this happening only solidified that our country and political scene need change. And change is what my husband stands for.''

''And lastly, is there anything you wish you could say to your husband right now?''

''I would want to remind him of a simple truth:  the one who is more afraid always strikes first. Thank you.''

Coriolanus didn't need to read anymore. YN made sure she wasn't going anywhere if he did something like that in the future—the public loved her before, but now they will go crazy. But that didn't bother him too much; on the contrary, he was rather impressed. Coriolanus felt fear leave his body with every breath. His place took something else, something he couldn't quite name yet—the feeling of stillness in his stomach. He wondered if that's what fullness felt like. A sweet, honey-like sensation in his veins.

-

The hall of the president's house is filled with what seems to be hundreds of people. Tables are overflowing with the most exquisite dishes, and laughter fills the air.

''Corio, look! The kids are dressed as little snowflakes—for us! Oh, isn't it so cute?'' YN coes, motioning at the girls-ballerinas in white tutus. They twirl on the stage, their movements mimicking the ones of snow falling outside.

He doesn't care if they are dressed as giant cockroaches, but he still nods in agreement. Coriolanus watches as YN steals one white rose from the piles decorating the balcony and throws it on stage, laughing in delight when girls start to argue over it.

There are flashes of cameras capturing every interaction between them; he knows that, so he places his hand on the back of the chair YN sits on. She looks as beautiful as always, perfect from every angle. His wife might be poison, dangerous, and lethal, but he is the one who knows that, when handled with care, it brings much more benefits to its owner than any other weapon.

Coriolanus already envisions their photo as the headline tomorrow morning—beside them, the big, bold letters.

Panem today.

He feels YN place a kiss on his cheek, staining it a little with her red lipstick.

Panem tomorrow.

Coriolanus smiles and brings her closer, whispering a compliment in her ear. 

Panem forever.

The hall erupts with applause and cheers, some even going as far as shouting words of admiration for the new president and his wife. 

They are the guard dogs, and they are the house dogs guard. And, until the last brick of it is there, they will bite. 

tag list (do tell me if I'm doing it wrong) @aemondsb1tch @cecekcecekceckceckceck @queenofshinigamis @julesandro

[365emotionlessfaces]

nobody:

Dj Khaled: Anotha one!

i have all of the parts written, so i’ll probably just be uploading them all today as i finish the minimal editing that i do 🤷‍♀️

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 3 WC:~1.4k

Parent Trap was up before her the next morning. When Melissa’s eyes fluttered open, she turned her head to face the young girl’s bunk across the room, and upon seeing it was empty, Melissa made the decision to get up, too. After she got dressed, denim shorts and a simple green t shirt, she made her way to the mess hall. Looking down at her watch, Melissa realized they had opened twenty minutes ago, and hoped she would be able to find a seat.

Melissa was able to grab a bowl of breakfast and ‘Thank God, coffee!’, and as she scanned the hall for a seat, she didn’t see many seats open for her. Just as she was about to head to the door and find a picnic table outside, she saw her Aspiring One pop up out of her seat and wave to Melissa with the biggest smile Melissa had ever seen, signaling that the girl had saved her a seat. Melissa weaved through the crowd and took her place beside the girl.

“Today‘s the fishing tournament, I think,” Parent Trap didn’t take her eyes off Melissa as she waited for a response. Melissa, who hadn’t even had a chance to sip her coffee, just hummed in response, taking the chance to take her first drink. “We’ll have this one in the bag! I grew up on a bunch of different lakes.”

“Where ya from, anyways?”

“Michigan.”

“Oh, God. You’re a Lions fan, ain’t ya?” The girl laughed nervously before she told Melissa which team she actually rooted for. “A cheesehead?!” Melissa had responded incredulously. “That’s worse!” Melissa smirked when the girl turned red.

“I dunno. My parents and grandparents were all Packers fans, I think it’s genetic,” the girl grinned proudly when Melissa laughed at her joke.

They finished the rest of their meals in a comfortable silence, one Melissa was quite grateful for. When they met at the main beach area to begin fishing, Melissa realized that she had never been fishing. Before she and Joe got married, the dates were all fancy restaurants, and dinners. After they got married, Joe insisted that his fishing weekends were ‘Just for the guys, babe,’ and Melissa had never argued. She tried not letting Parent Trap realize she might be out of her depths with this one. Bullhorn Lady explained that everything at the camp was at everyone’s disposal. The only rule was that you had to get the biggest fish.

It started out slow. Everyone standing on the beach, some even wading out into the water to try to reach the bigger fish. Whether Parent Trap had sensed her hesitation or she was just genuinely trying be helpful, but Melissa noticed that every time she needed one, the young girl was right there to put a worm on her hook.

After a few hours of coming up empty handed, Parent Trap started scanning the camp, as if she were looking for something. Melissa had asked her what she was doing, and the girl’s response was to tell her to ‘hang on’ and ‘she’ll be right back,’ before shooting off into the camp. When she returned ten minutes later, the girl was dragging a pedal boat behind her.

Melissa noticed the looks of the other groups as she and Parent Trap pedaled their little boat out onto the lake. They all looked pretty upset they didn’t think about it first, especially the middle-aged men who had waded waist-deep into the lake.

Melissa couldn’t hide the smirk she had. When she looked back from the men making their ways out of the water to find their own boats, she was met with those damn shiny eyes staring at her intently.

“You’re really beautiful, Em,” Melissa noticed that Parent Trap was blushing again, and she made a mental note that this was the first time the girl had called her by her name. “I hope your husband knows how lucky he is.”

Melissa was jarred by this statement. She looked down at her left hand, and realized she still had that stupid wedding ring on, and her thoughts started to revolve around that stupid man that’s in her house, probably with another woman already. She felt her anger bubbling, and to avoid showing the young girl, she stared intently at the water beside her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything-”

“S’fine.” Melissa muttered. The girl didn’t take her eyes off Melissa, until the redhead continued, “I’m divorcing him. Found him with a dumb broad in our bed.” Melissa huffed angrily. She sat still for a moment before pulling the ring off her finger.

The girl sat beside her and watched as the redhead launched the ring into the lake, hearing the tiny plop that it made about ten feet away before it sank to the bottom, never to be seen again. “He’s stupid for that,” the girl looked at her shoes. “Fumbling you, I mean, he got a Flint Fifteen, and wherever you’re from, I bet you’re the most beautiful woman around, like a one hundred,” the girl said.

Melissa looked back at the girl, and just took in the girl’s presence. She was blushing again, and Melissa couldn’t help but think about being able to make the girl blush all the time. It was a cute look for her, all flustered-like.

“Maybe not. I’m not the easiest person to be around,” Melissa sighed thinking of all the fights she and Joe had, all the times he told her she wasn’t good enough for anything, and all the times she believed him.

“I wouldn’t want to be around anyone else,” Melissa felt her heart tug at the girl’s words. No one had ever told Melissa that she was important enough to be their top priority, and here was this kid practically throwing herself at Melissa. Melissa didn’t realize how close their faces were until-

“Oh!” The young girl exclaimed, pulling away from Melissa. She reached for her fishing pole as the line jiggled, and began reeling as fast as she could. Melissa, stunned that she had been close enough to kiss the girl, sat back in her seat and tried to push away the feeling in her stomach. The feeling that told her she should’ve done something.

As the girl was excitedly reeling in her fish, Melissa’s mind wandered. Did she wanna kiss the girl? Hell yeah, she did. But she’s a kid! She’s nineteen! But the girl’s making it pretty clear- No! She’s nineteen.

“Em! Look at this thing! It’s huge!!” Melissa was snapped out of thoughts and presented with a giant, wiggling fish. She immediately curled her lips in disgust. This thing was gross, and Parent Trap was way too excited for Melissa’s liking. “We’re definitely winning this one, too.” The girl stood proudly on her seat, showing off her prize to the older woman.

Melissa couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm. “That’s great, hon. Now put it in the cooler, so we can head back to actual land.” The girl laughed softly, and did as she was told. Melissa couldn’t find the pause or stop button for the audio track in her brain, so the entire way back to the beach, Parent Trap’s laugh replayed in her mind, over and over again, soft and sweet, and something Melissa decided she wouldn’t mind hearing all the time.

When the judgement was over, and Melissa and her Aspiring One were handed the second place ribbon, Melissa saw the look of disappointment on the girl’s face and decided she had to fix it. So, when their hard-earned free time arrived, Melissa made the decision to share her secluded beach spot.

When the girl walked out of the bathroom in a bikini that even Melissa would have hesitated to wear, the redhead’s jaw almost hit the ground. And when they headed for the beach, Melissa definitely didn’t let the girl walk ahead of her so that she could stare at her ass the whole way. That was just a bonus.

Melissa couldn’t remember a time when she had laughed this hard, or when she had enjoyed being in someone’s company this much, and when time for dinner came, she found that she didn’t want it to end. Unfortunately for her, Parent Trap was insisting she was starving.

Part Four

[xo-cod]

omg more soft Simon pls😭💗 maybe sth with a highly sensitive reader sfw or nsfw whatever works for u... luv ur blog💖

thank you sm lovie :") this is sfw! sorry i got to this so late 😩🤍

dangerous love

"don't make me say it. i can't say the words"

rolling your eyes, you sit on the lap of your beloved lieutenant. the usual firm and stoic ghost has been left at the door, here he's become so affectionate and clingy, the way you adored it. here, he's simon. his calloused hands are wandering, trying to memorise every part on your skin. even though every nook and cranny is burned into his memory, mapped out exactly where and how to caress your body to get you into a whimpering mess.

"i think that's a lie, i think you can say those words simon riley" accentuating his name elicits a small groan from his lips, how he adores it when you take charge and command him. it brings a side of him he doesn't usually feel safe to show others. but you're so different. so warm and comforting, it just naturally comes out, spilling everywhere before he can even comprehend

you're so close to him, your fingers running though his blonde soft hair scratching gently on his scalp. and he relishes in it, his eyes closing out of habit. he can't help but rock underneath you, hoping you'd forget and immerse yourself in pleasure only he can provide you

but tonight, you were on a mission. and certainly not one to settle for any less so you move back but he grumbles a little, his hold on your waist tightening so that you're back close to him. he can't help but breathe in your sweet smell, practically trembling underneath you. like you're simultaneously not enough but yet overriding his senses.

"iloveyou" he mumbles in your neck, breath tickling your chest. it makes you giggle softly, gently pushing him back. your hands lace with his bigger ones, shaking your head as you gaze down at your half sleepy man

"try again, sir" you whisper, your arms around his neck. his eyes darken with lust at the word, instantly thinking about how many ways he could have you. but you don't relent. he knows what you want and maybe it's the fact that he's so tired that all his walls are down or the fact that he's so in love with you, he can't help but give you what you want

simon leans his forehead against your own, the sweetest of smiles pulling on his lips. his hands come to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around your knuckles. he breathes you in a little, not used to being so open and vulnerable about his feelings like this. not used to having someone care for him so deeply, not thinking that he could've ever received such a thing in this painful life.

"i love you, with everything in me. i never thought i could feel this way, that it was even bloody possible..." he breaks off, gently chuckling at the predicament he was in. how for years he swore of love, swore off from ever pursuing a relationship in this life. he didn't grow up with adoring parents that showed him what love meant, he couldn't possibly drag someone else deep down in the depths of his pain and misery of his past. the same thing he was running from.

how nobody could hold a candle to him but you managed to light a whole fire deep in his soul. the embers burning more bright and intense than he could've ever imagined. you truly tilted his world on its axis but he didn't care. for once in his life, he was reckless. and he loved it, for it landed him you.

"but there you were, you little minx. and i've fallen for you y/n l/n, more than you think. more than i even bloody know" his voice is soft as he nears the end of his confession, kissing the tip of your nose. there's really nothing more he could think of, he was a man of few words so action was always his number one thing. no words could do it justice. but he'd show you, again and again. so that even if you had a sliver of doubt all of was expelled, he'd make sure of that

"i love you too si..." you whisper, tenderly holding his stubbled face between your palms. your thumbs rub soft circles on the apples of his cheeks, giving into him. you couldn't help it, he was so addicting. your arms go behind his neck, pulling him towards you desperately. and he did the same, his arms tightening around your waist as if you'd disappear right before him. like he couldn't handle the fact that there could possibly be any sort of distance between you both, he pulls you with his strong arms close to his front.

as you got lost in the feeling of him, a surety had rose, lodged deep in his throat. his hands hold you as if you'll slip through his fingers, deepening the kiss as though your lips were the sweetest of drugs. that it'll be you always, for as long as you will let him. for as long as you'll have him

[voidcat]

— [ 01:36 ] (but if you’re too drunk to drive, and the music is right…)

characters: narumi gen, you, first division (loosely mentioned)

a/n: mentions of drinking and alcohol. can be read as part of the hedgehog's dilemma series bc ngl i kinda wrote it with that in mind. i hate you mari please let my soul be free and take your rabid little brother away from me. sorry for being such good in-law material ig — 1.5k

inspired by mari's bullying comment: "but have u considered the way he looks at u when he's slightly tipsy?"

The dim lights of the bar fall gently on the eyes- something you're more than grateful for.

It's not often the teams go out together after work; let alone even just one section within a division but you'd like to hope the changes within the first division has become somewhat of a routine by now.

The place is warm enough to be of comfort but cold enough to ensure nobody falls victim to alcohol and the sleep it lulls you into. As hours have passed since your arrival, the lively chatter has spread within the space, several booths occupied, everyone divided into similar groups of those they get along well more, or those they wish to converse with. It is calmer now, with the weight of work place regulations and titles gone, just the comfort of a bunch of people, spending their night, taking some stress out in the form of sweet drinks and sour tastes, vibrant colors and heavenly smelling fries, games played with one too many rules broken and words slurred, bodies slowly losing their functions.

You spot Shinonome easily with your eyes, away by the corner, bent by the pool table and holding the cue stick like she came up with the game herself.

A pity, you think to yourself. She was so excited for tonight, especially picked the night and asked to get ready with you, even asking your opinion on her outfit and what accessories she could tweak and add or not. Instead, now hogged with the rest of them, she's teaching them a lesson they'll never forget, ignoring Tachibana's swaying walks and poor attempts to hold his ground.

Still, you think, despite the errors and trials of the evening, you're content by yourself so far. Your seating is near the bar, lest you wish for another cocktail, the volume of the music just right, a soothing and gentle melody carrying you away, reminding you of old days.

A sudden movement by your side startles you just as you bring the glass to your lips. And you notice much to your dismay that what you've assumed to be a pile of several coats and bags is certainly too human-shaped to be that.

From the slouched-over form, rises Narumi Gen, wobbling and swaying in his spot.

Rolling your eyes and breathing through your nose, you still take your sip, bigger than you were planning, and think to yourself that your proximity to the bartender will surely prove itself to be useful.

"H-hey!" Narumi says with a coarse voice, a hiccup mixed in the small word somewhere, sounds like a sore throat, or just dry.

"Fancy seein' you 'ere." He tries again, words still a struggle for him to get out and you try to recall how many drinks he had to end up such a babbling mess already.

"Congrats on your discovery of shapeshift, captain." you say and turn ahead again, a finger grazing over the rim of your glass.

He doesn't seem to pick up on your words and gives you a confused gaze, head tilted to the side so much, he almost falls, a sudden arm shooting up to the table to balance himself, not noticing your vacant hand moving to his direction in case he fell as well.

You take your arm back before he can notice.

In thought, you grab your glass and down the rest of its content in one go, looking at the bartender to notice and making a gesture his way.

The taste of zesty orange still rich on your tongue, you lick your lips, thinking. For some reason, you always overthink when it comes to him.

You doubt the count is much since he doesn't look all too bad. And you are aware, even when these after-work hangouts were barely a thing, he still rarely went out- and his joining rate to them a zero already. From what you know of him, of his life before, it's unlikely he had experience with alcohol to begin with. When you put two and two together, it doesn't really come as a surprise to see him like this.

One part of you is still unsure if he's coming to these as out of some self crafted necessity- that he should be there as the captain if he's invited, or because he genuinely enjoys the company.

The lack of a portable game console or a phone implies the former, and the thought brings a smile to your lips.

Some rustling and movement from the peripheral of your eye and you can somewhat make out Narumi changing his posture, but heed him no mind.

In the midst of your running thoughts, someone comes to take your empty glass away and bring your order.

Two glasses of sparkly, bright orange, a dark and thin straw inside, and you sigh, Narumi's hands working faster than your own, pulling one before himself.

Happily taking a drag of the drink, only to grimace at the sudden taste of alcohol, he coughs a little and you lightly pat him on the back, "there, there" you offer in half concern, half out of habit.

Yellow lights dancing among the corners of the place, it gives the impression of a space hidden and old- nostalgic, in a way. But then again so does the decor, a get-away of sorts.

Typical stools and cushions one could run into pubs back in the day, the never ending sounds of a faint coffee machine working there, clanks of knives from the kitchen here– a haven that is lived and loved. A chance for normalcy, even just for few hours.

Here, you can pretend everything is the same. In the comfort of old posters and within the reflections dirty, rusty bathroom mirrors; you can pretend you are still just a regular person. No life altering events, no losses.

No grief and no prove of lost love to begin with. Here, now, you can pretend you're still young and have someone waiting for you to return home before the sky darkens. Right now, you can let your eyes roam the sticky floors for a cat that looks well too fed to be a stray, fur soft and glinting, a hint of michief in its eyes.

"So~ come here often?" the slurred voice speaks from your side again, earning a 'pfff' from you at the cheap pick-up line.

When you turn to face him, you don't expect to see Narumi half lying on the table. Head resting snug against his palm, a stupid smile on his face– boyish, is best you can muster to decribe.

Rosy cheeks and half dropped lids, and the smile of a young boy still innocent, lost and ready to take on the world if he must looking at you with glee– like you're the most interesting thing he has seen tonight, or in his entire life- the pub the entire world, and you at its center.

This new change to him catches you off-guard. You were ready for anything. Be it a drunken mess, an overly clingy tipsy mess, a little all over the place yet a ted steady despite sleep pouring out of his eyes like the last time.

Nothing, you think, could've possibly prepared you for pink eyes glowing under the dim lights with specs of gold trapped inside the orbs– a smile so genuine, so vulnerable dancing on his lips and his free hand playing with the hem of your sleeve. Dusty pink cheeks that match his eyes and the expression of a fool you fear you might never see in your life again, Narumi Gen stares into your eyes as if there's nothing else in this room right now.

You can feel your mouth open and close with nothing to come out- muscle memory carrying you until so far.

This is bad, your brain signals you, running at a speed too fast for you to catch on- a loss of words, no idea what to do and dreading the very possibility of just sitting frozen there in silence like a deer in headlights.

Seeing movement on your part however, Narumi tries leaning in closer, moving with his folded arm and head still rested against his palm, almost knocking his- now empty, glass off in the process.

The slight tilt of the glass and its clink against the table brings you back to your senses. Hands shooting up towards his direction- to the glass and nowhere else obviously, or so you try and reason, you stall for a second with your hands still in the air.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give him a gentle squeeze, gaze softening at his reaction– heat rushing to his face, the smile morphing into a small expression of surprise,

Your voice comes out in a soft whisper he is certain he never heard of before: "Come now big guy, let's get you home." you say it like this has always been an usual occurance– and for a blink of a second, he sees the outlines of a stranger he just met.

[trashmouth-richie]

pretty sure my thumbs have never typed so fast in my life when i got this prompt from @fishwithtitz

prompt was eddie x you smut + an image saying “you’ve been poisoned” at the bottom of a cup of coffee— i tweaked this a bit

18+ minors go away, smut! anal! biting, squirting, no condoms (don’t do this in real life unless you want a baby and can provide for one) a-to-v (also don’t do this unless you want a coochie infection) this is fanfic so pls keep that in mind, another secret gross thing that happens at the end. voyeurism! (kinda) eddie fucks, like reaaallly fucks.

<800k / eddie x fem reader

“fuck.” 

The windows were streaked. Sweaty handprints pressed into the cold glass, telling a story to anyone walking past just exactly what was taking place behind the locked doors of the car. 

The leather jacket you had peeled off of his shoulders laid on the floor along with one of your broken heels (the other— shoved stiletto first into the vent) along with shreds of ripped black pantyhose. 

You sucked the ring on his lip into your mouth with a shaky moan, the heat from your mouth sending his tongue into a frenzy— making his hips thrust into your ass with such force you nearly hit the windshield. 

Facing away from him, hands holding steady onto the dash, your fingernails scrape down the vinyl in long strokes as your tight ass bobs up and down his length.

“nasty girl,” he breathes into your ear, “fucking knew it the minute I saw you.” 

Tonight was Rick’s birthday party, and when your friends had begged you to come out, you finally agreed. 

Angling your neck to the moonlight he holds your necklace close to your throat in an all too smooth motion so it was gathered in his fist. 

The marks he had sucked into your neck were already raised, and he smirked as he bit into your shoulder. 

“Your boyfriend gonna care if you go home with these?”

Whining at the pleasuring pressure of his cock stuffed tight where nobody else has been, you rub a small circle into your clit, inserting your own manicured finger into your cunt. 

“What boyfriend?” you panted out, playing coy. 

He tweezed one of your nipples between his thick fingers, twisting until you yelped out. 

“Oh baby, ‘m fuckin’ you dumb huh?”

Mewling in response he drives into you harder, faster, joining your hand on your clit until your release sprays over the dashboard. Cries spilling out of you and the sweet taste of tears ruining your makeup. He coaxes you on, cheering you like you’re a varsity lettermen. 

Flipping you around so you’re facing him, he licks up your tears, shoving you forward into your own mess—your back slick with it. 

He laughs a mocking chuckle at the sight of you, wrecked because of him. No time is wasted before he splits your pussy open, grunting when your eyes practically cross, knowing he’s bigger than the limp dick you’d been fucking until tonight, until him.

“If you don’t have a boyfriend— who’s car is this?” 

You smile a wicked grin, telling him between gasps and his choked grunts. 

“Perfect.” 

—

He zips up his jeans— door to the car open as he tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, looking for his shirt, a cigarette between his teeth. 

Standing barefoot on the concrete, you’re no longer wearing the shoes or pantyhose you wore to the party you try smudging your eye makeup to make it look decent in the closed back window, when he speaks. 

“I— yeah, I really hope you’re not expecting me to whisk you away to a fucking castle or some sh—”

You laugh light heartedly, “Eddie— trust me, I know.” 

He shoves his head through the hole of his shirt, planting heavy boots on the ground before he stands taller than you, a devils smirk on his lips. 

“Dating really isn’t my thing, but y’ might be more of a freak than I am, sugar.” 

You both smile, standing awkward in post sex bliss. 

“See ya ‘round?” you ask leaning into him, pressing your chest into the crisp white of his shirt before pressing a small kiss to his neck, leaving before his hands could hold the small of your back. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he looks down wiping the cheesy grin from his face before calling after your leaving frame, “hit me up whenever you wanna fuck in Hargrove’s car again.” 

—

That night at Rick’s, Billy was brought a beer by a pretty girl with smudged makeup, bare feet— a weird little smile on her face before she leaned into him, telling him, “drink up, handsome”.

The beer tasted different but he was already so sauced he didn’t notice. 

He also didn’t notice a white milky substance at the bottom of the cup, or a message in writing that looked similar to the graffiti in the bathroom stalls at the Hideout. 

Devil horns surrounded the scrawled message: 

“How do I taste big boy?” 

—

pls consider reblogging or commenting! it means so much to writers 🖤

hope you enjoyed the feral-ness ❤️‍🔥

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Zorag Iron - 2/3

orc!Zorag Iron x human!Reader - 2/3 Good to know: smut

Summary: Your argument with Zorag takes a sudden turn.

The rain is still heavy and restless. It pours from the dark sky, drumming on the roof of the van. The wipers on the windshield move back and forth without pause. Their clicking is a constant noise in the background, mixing with the songs coming from the radio. None of you pay attention to it. You can barely see the road through the window, and you definitely can't see the name of the streets.

"They will still be open, right?" You ask, glancing at the clock. If they didn't decide to close sooner because of the weather, they should. You only hope you didn't come all this way for nothing. And the orc next to you thinks the same thing. "I hope so," Zorag grunts. "If not, I will find someone to take care of the orders."

"Turn to the left," you are the one who breaks the silence again. "Now, Zorag!" "That's the wrong way." "No, it's not. I have been there before." "Me too," he continues to argue with you, passing the left turn completely. "I know how to drive, Ruby." You roll your eyes. "Of course, you know." His frown deepens. You aren't even sure what he looks like without the wrinkle between his thick brows. "What do you mean by that?" He grunts. "Why can't you listen to me?" You ask him, pulling your arm tighter in front of your chest. "That was the right way." "Or maybe…" Sarcasm drips from each word he says. "Maybe there are several other ways to get to the address."

You know he is right. And you want to pull on his hair because of it.

Soon, you reach your destination, and fortunately, the gates open in front of you immediately. One of the workers shows you where to go, and Zorag parks down in front of a building that looks familiar that you have in the lumberyard. Nobody is outside, but you can hear the others working inside. "Stay here," Zorag grunts. "I will be quick." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. "I bet." The line of his jaw clenches into a hard line but says nothing. The only reply you get is the hard thud of the door as he pushes it shut.

Zorag is at his wits' end with you. But he always feels like this when you're around. No matter what you do or say, there is a twitch in his stomach that makes him want to spank you and kiss you senseless at the same time. You are bossy and bratty. You always want to tell him what to do and how to do it. You always think you know better, and you are not afraid to tell him that. He has every reason to dislike you, and still. Here he is. Half hard, even after your comment about his quickness. He can't help it, though. The van is small compared to him. You were close to him the whole time, with your sweet scent mixed with the rain. Your shirt clung to your body, showing off the soft swell of your breasts and the gentle slope of your collarbone. Your hair is still a mess even after drying in the warmth of the car.

You sit and watch the men take the planks out of the back. Zorag helps them. The hood over his head hides half of his face, but you can still see the thick tusks between his lips. You can't hear what he says, but the deep rumble of his words reaches your ears and resonate in your core. He seems even bigger next to the humans. He towers over them with his broad shoulders and muscles that make his coat stretch around his arms. You can't help but stare at him the whole time.

When everything is done, the orc sits back in the car and starts the engine with a roar. The end of his dreadlocks is wet, dripping down onto his thighs. The dark jeans he wears soak them up.

"Well," you speak up. The air is heavy and tense between you two. "I'm glad it's done." Zorag just grunts. "Thanks for coming with me," you try again. He nods but says nothing.

The tension doesn't lessen, and you start to worry. Maybe you really pushed him too far? The thought almost feels comical. There is no way Zorag would get mad at you just because of a snarky comment. You two do it all the time. That's the base of your relationship. You are angry at him, he is angry at you, and that's it. Life goes on. At least, that's what you try to tell yourself the whole way back to the lumberyard in your hometown.

You don't try to speak with him anymore, and he doesn't say anything either. Your eyes are on the window, watching the trees passing by through the rain. The forest is dark, and it seems unforgivable. Lush greens surround the mountains in the background. Their tops disappear in the dark clouds. The sky flashes here and there, and thunder shakes through the air.

You can't wait to get home.

When the van stops in the protection of the storage, you can't help but sigh with relief. The day was longer than you anticipated. The sun is ready to disappear behind the trees, and the dark clouds are still thick and loud. Another flash. Another rumble.

For a second, you just stare at the orc when both of you get out of the car. You are leaning against the door while he puts the keys back in their place. He is still tense and quiet. You can see his taut muscles even through the layers of his clothes.

"Zorag?" You break the silence after biting your bottom lip almost to bleeding. He grunts in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes. "Hey," you sound almost angry. "I'm sorry okay? My comment clearly hit a sore spot, and I apologize for it. I didn't mean it." Apologizing to Zorag is new. You feel awkward, and you just want to be done with it.

And you are clearly doing it wrong.

His body froze for a long second before turning back to you with a low growl. His dark eyes seem even more dangerous than the storm outside. The hoops around his tusks glint under the dim light of the storage.

"Hit a sore spot?" He spits. Oh, oh. "I mean…" you gasp. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… It was too much, and I know that now." Before you know it, he is in front of you. His tall form towers over you, caging you against the car as you press your back to the door some more. "Why are you so upset about it anyway?" You ask him, frowning. When your attempt to apologize takes you nowhere with the orc, you choose another route. You argue. You want to fight because you are familiar with it. You know what to expect from it, and in a strange way, it gives you comfort. So you are almost shocked when, instead of snapping at you, Zorag smirks. And damn, he is really handsome when he does that. The curve of his lips is crooked because of his tusks, but it still stirs something in you. "What?" You snap. "What are you doing?" Tension keeps your back straight against the van. "If you really want to know how long I last in bed, you only have to ask." You scoff. Heat creeps up on your face. Your lips open and close as you try to come up with something. "I don't- I mean- I-" "Don't lie to me, Ruby," he warns you. "Maybe my nose is not as good as the shifters', but I notice everything." His words fan over you as he leans closer to your ear. The ring in his nose feels cold on the warm skin of your neck. Your whole body shakes at his closeness. "What are you doing?" You gasp.

What is he doing, really? Zorag isn't even sure himself. The only thing he knows is that there is no way he will let you go this time. You and his own thoughts drove him crazy the whole way back to the lumberyard.

"Tell me you don't want it," he says. His voice is a low rumble. "Tell me you don't clench your pretty thighs every time we argue. Tell me you don't get excited when we fight." You really want to tell him all those things. They are on the tip of your tongue. Lies. Lies. Lies. "That's what I thought," he hums when you say nothing.

The kiss starts slowly, giving you a chance to say no. Just a brush of his lips across yours. Soft and warm. The loops on his tusks are cold. For a second, you are not even sure if he can kiss you fully because of his teeth, but then he presses his lips against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, demanding everything you can give him. One of his arms wraps around your torso, pulling you to his body and away from the car. He is devouring you. Cradling your head in his large palm, his thumb caresses the soft spot under your ear. His chest is large and hard under your hands. You burn and ache in his arms. The feeling of his tusks pressing into your skin makes you gasp against his lips. Your mind wanders to how it would feel between your legs.

After a while, he breaks the kiss but doesn't step away from you. His breath is hot against your cheeks. Your lips are swollen, and the throbbing between your legs is in sync with the rapid beating of your heart.

"Well," you gulp. Your nails dig into his coats to keep him close. "You proved nothing." His laugh is booming. The pleasant sound runs through your body. "I really hoped you would say that," he grins with mischief in his dark eyes. His arm falls away from your body after another quick kiss as he lowers himself to his knees. Oh. "Here?" You gasp, looking around even though you know nobody else is here. The door of the storage is open, the rain still pours, and you can barely see the forest surrounding the yard. "Here," he replies. "I don't think this pussy could wait any longer either." Your back falls against the car again. His thick finger brushes over your center through your jeans. Your stomach twitches at the feeling. A breathy gasp leaves your lips when he tugs on your pants and panties until they are thrown down on the floor a few meters away from you. The cold air sends shivers through your body, and your toes curl with anticipation.

Your scent fills Zogar's nostrils to the point the blood in his veins flows and burns with desire. His mouth waters at the pretty sight of your pussy. His palms smooth over the flesh of your thighs, gripping the back of your knees to pull your legs apart until he can see your folds. Wet and aching. One of your hands is on the van behind you as you try to keep your balance while the other is already in his hair. Your grip on his thick locks is almost painful. It fuels his need for you. Zorag leans in, licking over your wetness once, twice, three times before he delves into your pussy. His tongue swirls through your folds, around your clit, and inside your entrance. Your juices coat his taste buds, his lips, and his chin. And all of a sudden, he has no idea how he could live without this anymore. Urging him on, you pull on his hair and grind your burning cunt against his face. You almost ride him, and he is more than happy to be used by you. He licks and teases, grazing his tusk over your clit. "Zorag!" You cry out his name. "Fuck!" His cock is hard as he listens to your moans and groans. His name leaves your lips like a prayer. One of his fingers finds your entrance while his lips close around your clit. Your frantic breathing changes into sobs at the sudden feeling. Pleasure burns your veins, and the coil in your stomach is tight and ready to snap. Zorag pumps in and out of you, curling his finger just the right way to find every spongy spot that makes you scream and beg for more. "Please," you moan. His cock twitches with every sweet word that leaves your lips. "Please, don't stop. Zorag!" He recognizes your orgasm even before you do. Your clit throbs on his tongue, and your walls flutter around his finger as you chase your release. He is the only one who keeps you from falling as your body jumps and shakes with pleasure.

"See?" He grunts, standing up. His arms slide around you to keep you on your legs. His mouth is full of your taste. His deep green skin glints with your wetness. "It's so much better when you stop being so bossy."

You want to hit him.

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

[atinystraynstay]

I'd Wait For You - Joshua Hong

Synopsis: Joshua was your best friend, the person who has witnessed you grow and blossom. That includes being front row to watching you fall in and out of love with people. Joshua was convinced he could treat you better. Could you find yourself to let him in?

Pairing: non-idol! Joshua Hong x fem reader

Genre: Angst, childhood friends to lovers, fluff here and there!

Word Count: 2.3k

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When Joshua thought of the person he was, it was because of you. You were the one who helped him pick out clothes so he found his style, you were the one who boosted his confidence he he doubted himself and pushed him to try new things, and you were the one who helped him made bad decisions sometimes in the hopes of making long-lasting memories. You were his person.

It was written by the universe that the two of you would be best friends. With your mothers being so close, there is no denying that you two will always have an important place in each other's lives.

Ever since you were younger, you two didn't go somewhere without the other. You attended the same schools, even the same college. Sure, college led you two to different friend groups, different activities, and different majors. But you always made time for each other even when life got busy. You two would study constantly and promised to have one meal together once a week. And you two never broke that promise.

Anyone who witnessed your friendship always commented there was something more. Joshua saw it too. He easily fell for you. How couldn't he? You accepted every version of himself and were the person who brought him an immense source of comfort. He couldn't imagine life without you.

Unfortunately, he had to imagine what it would be like to be with you.

"Do you think he's worth it?" You sighed.

The two of you were on FaceTime. It was a Tuesday night. While Joshua was at home, waiting for his food delivery, you were busy getting ready for a date.

Part of the reason why Joshua had to imagine what life would be like if you two were together is because you were seeing someone. For the past few months, you've been dating this guy named Ben. Now, Joshua didn't think much of Ben at first. He didn't seem like your type, so he thought he would come and go.

And he has to some extent. Ben and you had this awful habit of breaking up and getting back together. While it pained Joshua to see you with someone else, he loved the moments you confided him about your dating woes. He took mental notes of dos and donts for when you two (hopefully) get together. Ben was striking out left and right, mainly due to his poor communication. What Joshua didn't understand was why you always found yourself going back to him.

"Y/n, I don't know. You guys break up so much, I've lost count," he laughed. "It's only been 3 times," you groaned. "3 times what? This week?" "But he said he's changed this time. I mean, he even sent flowers to my apartment after our argument two nights again. That's got to mean something, right?" Joshua wanted to roll his eyes so much at your rationale. He adored you with every fiber in his being, and he didn't want to come across as dismissive, but he felt frustrated both because of you and for you. Ben was not worth it in his eyes. Nobody is worth it for you except for him. But he was your best friend. That was his role. "Maybe, angel. But there's only so much flowers can do to make up for how he treats you sometimes." Your smile had flattened by Joshua's words. And it pained him. He never wanted to be a source of sadness in your life. I guess that's why Joshua often pushed his feelings for you aside. He didn't want to be selfish and confess because that might cause a bigger mess. He loved you. He has since he was 8 years old. If you only saw him as a best friend, he would proudly take that role.

In a perfect world, you would confess to Joshua your feelings. He was ready to embrace those feelings head-on because he knew how he felt about you. What kept him back was not knowing how you felt towards him. You've always been so prominent in each other's lives. He didn't want to imagine a world without you. He was terrified that if he did ever confess, it would only push you away.

Joshua had found himself as the leading man in a tragic love story. "Just promise me something?" He requested. "Whatever you decide, follow your heart."

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You had to hang up the phone call in order to get ready for your date. Joshua sighed once you face vanished from his phone. He set the phone on the coffee table before driving his fingers through his hair.

How could this happen? You were supposed to be with him, not with some random guy you met who knows where? Not with someone who doesn't see your value.

The whole situation frustrated him beyond belief. On paper, you guys were a perfect match. You two knew each other like the back of your hand. Even when you did have a disagreement, you guys would not allow it to blow up. You spoke to each other with respect, even if you were both angry because you cared about each other. In some ways, you could say you loved each other. Joshua definitely was in love with you.

He has received relentless teasing from his friends about his lack of making a move on you. His friends thought even pushing might cause him to crack. And it almost did. Yet, he was still afraid of losing you and now he might actually be.

You always saw him as a friend, or at least that's what Joshua believed. You two were best friends, nothing more and nothing less. This wasn't some love story where the childhood best friends fall for each other, no matter how many times he prayed it would happen. This was his reality. If he had to let you go to keep you in his life, he would. And he would be there to pick up the pieces each time.

Suddenly, a buzz brought Joshua out of his mind and back to the present moment. He sat up a little straighter, looking towards the door of his apartment. Did he hear that correctly? He glanced towards the clock on the wall. 8:16pm.

Ding dong. Who could that be?

Joshua pushed himself off of the couch before shuffling towards the door. It was just a short walk towards the front of the apartment. He slowly unlocked the top lock and twisted the doorknob to unlock his front door.

There you were.

"Y/n?! What happened?" "Why didn't you fight for me?"

Your voice was calm, yet your body language screamed rage. You had your hair pulled back in a clip, exposing your bare face to the world. You looked divine, but Joshua didn't have time to compliment you. He noticed how your eyebrows were slightly scrunched up while you stared into him. He thought your gaze was going to burn a hole right through them. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie and sweatpants.

"Answer me, Joshua."

Oh no, I'm in deep shit. He was at a loss for words as he stared at you. His mind racking through all the interactions you had. Did he say something over FaceTime? Did he forget to say something? Did you ask him to do something but he forgot? He was drawing a blank.

"Do you like me yes or no, Joshua? Because everyone is saying you do besides you."

His eyes grew wide at that statement. Who spilled? "Y/n, listen-" "No, Joshua, you listen. How dare you let me go on dates with people who treat me poorly. You're my best friend! We're supposed to tell each other everything." That part you whispered. "How could you not tell me?"

"What a damn minute," Joshua finally said. He had a raised eyebrow before opening the door all the way. He stepped aside to let you in, motioning for you to follow him. "I am not going to argue with you outside of my apartment. Get in." You sighed and nodded, slowly stepping in. Obviously something happened in between from the moment you guys to now. Who did you speak to? Who told you his secret? Why were you angry?

Once you were fully into his apartment, Joshua closed the door. You immediately found a spot on his couch, right beside where he was previously sitting. Your hands were locked in front of you, your one leg bouncing. Your breathing was starting to slow down a bit but you gaze was still locked on him. While not as intense, you still had your eyes trained on him.

"Can I get you a water or something before we continue this conversation?" He asked gently.

"There you go again!" You groaned. Your head leaned until it hit the pillow behind you. Your gaze is now trained on the ceiling above you two. He was surprised, completely speechless as he thought he was doing the right thing. "I'm so sick of you being nice to me."

Joshua raised an eyebrow before shuffling over to you. He took a seat on the couch beside you but kept enough distance. He wasn't sure how to process all that was transpiring, but he needed to understand where you were coming from. And apparently have some explaining to you.

"Y/n, sweet girl, you need to tell me what's going on." "You is what is going on," you confessed.

Slowly, you sat up until you were at eye level with him once again. The room was tense. He was nervous, afraid that what you had been told was going to bring his worst fear to reality - that he might lose you. "Joshua, you've set too high of a standard for me. You're kind without asking for anything in return. You treat me like a fucking princess when I'm only your best friend. I'm angry that we aren't together but you treat me better than any guy I've been with."

Was this actually happening? Were you confessing to him? "Y/n, do you like me?" 'I have liked you since I knew what it meant to have a crush on someone," you admitted. "But."

Not the cursed 'but.' "We're best friends. I didn't eat to be presumptuous and think you like me when we've been friends for so long. But then Seungkwan told me that you had feelings for me yesterday. I didn't think it was true especially not when you pushed me to go out with someone else tonight."

Fuck. "Y/n, look, we are best friends," Joshua began. You looked at him as if you just stabbed him in the heart. "But, I fell in love with my best friend."

Very gently, he took both of your hands in his. You stared up at him with a facial expression he couldn't recognize. This was new for both of you. You were venturing into uncharted territory for the two of you. His thumbs caressed over your knuckles which both soothed your nerves but caused your heart to pound faster. "This was not the way I planned on telling you," he confessed. "I actually wanted to tell you once you were single again because I didn't want to stand in the way of being happy." This time, you reached out to him. Keeping one hand in his, your other hand reached over to run your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back to expose his face more. You seemed to relax under your touch which made you smile for the first time that evening. "Josh, I'm my happiest when I'm with you. Have I not made that clear in all the years we've known each other?" "Y/n, you know I have too much respect for you and too much invested in this friendship to just assume someone like you could ever be into me." You squeezed his hand gently, unable to stifle the giggle leaving your lips. You moved closer to him, our lips almost right under his. "This is so silly. What are we doing? Why are we keeping ourselves from being our happiest versions of ourselves?" He smirked at your question. With his free hand, he cupped your cheek gently. His thumb caressed over your cheek affectionately as he gazed into your eyes. He always has been mesmerized by the fact that your eyes captured any light in the room. They sparkled like two disco balls. "Let's change that," he murmured.

Time stopped. He leaned in so his lips grazed against yours as if he was testing the waters. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable with what was about to happen, as there was no turning back. When you didn't pull away, he got the green light he's been chasing after. His lips fully pressed against yours.

Your head gently tilted up, leaning to the side so your lips fit against him like two missing puzzle pieces. It felt like tiny sparks were going off against your lips. It was a feeling the two of you would soon be addicted to. And it felt so comfortable, so natural. His lips slowly chased after yours for a moment.

Even though he felt the urge to continue kissing you, to never let this moment pass, he did pull back. His forehead found yours, revealing the wide grin the two of you wore. He couldn't help but chuckle before pecking your lips once more. Joshua was just over the moon. He was eager for whatever may be next for the two of you, especially now that there were no limitations. You were his best friend, but now the girl who knew how he felt.

"I kept my promise you know," you spoke softly.

Joshua raised an eyebrow but kept a warm smile. Now what were you talking about? "You had me promise to follow my heart. And I did. You've been my heart, my love all this time."

[illuminatedferret]

Yes!

About the fate swap thing, I actually do think the timing is partially JW's fault. Not only the third heavenly calamity, but I think what pushed HX to finally do it is the Earth Master being dead. Which, while wasn't explained, I'm sure is JW's fault.

About Mt. Tonglu a.k.a Ghost Rut: absolutely! I agree, but I don't think it's only that XL was alone with HC. Rather, XL was with HC in *Ghost City*, with a bonus of Qi Rong is nearby. That's recipe for pure chaos, and honestly? I bet it infuriates JW if he knew XL solved that by having a heavy makeout session 🤣🤣🤣😭

Actually, adding to that: I bet Jun Wu hates Hua Cheng so SO much. Even from the parade, Hong'er was the one who makes XL differ from JW's character that he was portraying. Then comes Beizi Hill, which... well, I think JW hoped XL was alone, and especially the calamity XL arc. I'm sure at that point, BWX really, really hoped XL was alone, and was so so SO glad when WM finally dispersed (which leaves XL alone). Hell, I think the only reason he didn't disperse ghost fire HC was because XL didn't believe ghost fire HC's words.

I honestly wonder just how much JW knows? Because if he knew HC was all of those from the start when HC escaped the Kiln, I think he would've dispersed him. With good reason: at that point there's no other calamity and the first one was BWX, who he 'dispersed'.

.... i have brainrot over tgcf....

P.S. thanks for the tag ❤️

- 🍁

Last Ask

Oh, Jun Wu totally killed Earth Master. 100%. I'm personally of the opinion there's a reason the idea of messing with the timing of Heavenly Tribulations never comes up in the novel, but hey, that also means there's nothing actually saying it isn't possible.

I am confused by what you mean about Ming Yi's death spurring He Xuan to disrupt Shi Wudu's Tribulation, though. I don't see how that would play any factor in things. I don't think He Xuan was hesitating or anything, if that's what you're getting at. He's not the kind of man to falter. That's kind of his whole deal. He's patient, but only because he has to be. He infiltrated the heavens looking to discover why Shi Wudu was present at his death. Upon finding out (which would have happened either before or even during Book 1), I don't think anything would have stopped He Xuan from his revenge- he'd just be biding his time for the perfect opportunity (which the Tribulation definitely was). That's the tragedy of the Blackwater Arc- everyone puts their family above all else, regardless of the consequences.

Yeah, between Hua Cheng and Ghost City, I think Hua Cheng was above and beyond the bigger threat. The stronger the ghost, the worst they're impacted, after all. Ghost City probably would've been an annoyance, but when the mountain opens, we also see they become incapacitated by it- unlike Hua Cheng, who was more trying to resist its call than anything else. And, again, any damage Mount Tonglu opening could have done to Hualian's relationship would have been far more important to Jun Wu than what Ghost City might have done to Xie Lian. Actually, Qiandeng Temple was probably one of the best places for them to be at the time...

I've actually gotten into debates before arguing over whether or not Jun Wu knew about Hua Cheng. I want to believe he didn't, because it's fun to think of Hua Cheng as the dark horse Jun Wu didn't see coming, but realistically... I have to admit, I don't see how he couldn't. All he had to do was find the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods on his own home turf and it would have explained everything, if he wasn't already watching Mount Tonglu that round to keep an eye on things. Hua Cheng throughout the ages has definitely been an annoyance to Jun Wu, though.

Despite that, I don't think Jun Wu tried to disperse Hua Cheng for a couple reasons. For one, in regards to his connection to Xie Lian, that's not his M.O. Jun Wu is of the belief nobody but him can truly understand Xie Lian, and that all (other) interpersonal ties will inevitably sour and fall apart. If he felt the need to step in and disperse Hua Cheng on those grounds, he'd be admitting he feels that belief of his is threatened. That's why he never does anything to the people around Xie Lian- he might set up difficult situations, but the choices are still always left up to the people around him. He's trying to prove a point.

For two, Hua Cheng did serve a purpose. We can't forget Jun Wu is the one who set the Kiln up to start forging Supremes. He did that because when the Mortal Realm is in turmoil, when there are powerful ghosts and demons out wrecking havoc, more people pray to him, and he becomes stronger for it. Hua Cheng inspires a lot of fear among mortals and gods alike, leaving them reliant on Jun Wu for a sense of security. So Hua Cheng was in one part allowed to live because to kill him went against Jun Wu's personal philosophy(which is. as we all know. very. very important to him) and in part because he was useful for Jun Wu's goals. If needed, he could have killed Hua Cheng. But Hua Cheng never forced his hand. Ultimately, he was more useful as a boogeyman than as an accolade. Even disregarding that, without destroying his ashes, there was no guarantee Hua Cheng wouldn't come back.

[qedart]

Time Warp AU - #14 Well this update just didn't want to come together. But finally it's done (all 8K+ of it 😬) and I'm actually rather happy with how it turned out. So I hope you all enjoy this offering of Pete emotional H/C with a side of parental Icemav.

Honestly, Pete had never really got the big deal about birthdays. Sure, when he was little they seemed important. They’re supposed to, when you’re young. But he wasn’t a child anymore. 

He’d learned a long time ago that simply managing to make it through the year wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. A few rounds of people forgetting, ignoring, or scoffing at him for waiting for some kind of acknowledgment of the date had made it all very clear to him - nobody gives a damn about stuff like that, and you look pathetic if anybody catches on that you might. 

So he didn’t. Doesn’t. 

For the longest time now, the only real significance that that day held for him was as a marker of his being one year closer to independence. Living with Mav and Ice, even that didn’t provide the same spiteful satisfaction that it once had. 

These days, he didn’t count down the months until he was free of the people he found himself in the midst of. Quite the opposite really. Ice, Maverick, Tom, the Daggers, the uncles… they were good people. Good, kind, safe people - and they actually seemed to like Pete being around. 

Nothing lasts forever though, of course. He knew that. He was well aware that he was one big screw up away from blemishing whatever image they all had of him, one proper misstep from sending the whole house of cards he’d built around himself from falling to the ground in one way or another. And he was well overdue for one of those mistakes. Unfortunately, it was an inevitability. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Pete Mitchell messes up nice things. 

He tried not to let it bother him too much. 

It was better to just live in the moment, and at this particular moment he had far bigger concerns than inevitabilities or the fact that he was turning 17 in a week. The chief among them - Maverick was turning 60. 

Unlike Pete’s birthday, that was something significant. That was important. That was worthy of celebration. 

Up until this whole time-warp fiasco went down, Pete would have put money on him (any version of him) not making it past 30. 60 was double that! It demanded celebration, even if Mav himself had developed a habit of referring to the subject of his age merely as ‘the situation’.

So when Ice suggested a little lunchtime get-together by the Hard Deck the coming Saturday ‘for the birthday we’ve got coming up’, he agreed that it was a fantastic idea. 

“Penny’s got a barbecue there that we could use I’m pretty sure,” Tom chipped in over his cereal. 

“Nice. I’ll be there if there’s food,” Pete grinned as he made a bowl for himself. 

Tom rolled his eyes. 

“You were going to be there anyway, numb-skull.”

“Boys, please,” Ice sighed, before Pete could return fire. “I’ve not had my coffee yet, let’s just hold off on the bickering for a little while longer.”

Pete sniffed when Tom promptly shot him an exceedingly smug smirk. 

“I’d get drinking if I were you.”

“Pete.”

“Fine,” Pete huffed, before turning back to Ice. “The beach sounds great though. Want us to bring anything?”

“Just yourselves,” Ice replied, shaking his head. “Mav and I will sort out the logistics.”

And that was that. Party at the beach to celebrate Mav’s 60th, be there at 12. Sorted. 

The rest of the week went by like normal, for the most part. He was asked if he was excited about the party a bit more often than he expected he would be, but he figured it was just people making conversation. He and Tom spent most of Thursday trying to find the old man a fitting birthday present. 

“You’ve seen the hanger! How are we supposed to top that?!”

“I think we should probably start by setting our sights a little lower.”

In the end they decided to both go in on a new camera, figuring it was the most affordable of Mav’s hobbies to tap into. 

When the day itself eventually did roll around, Pete was up and out of bed by dawn. Not due to excitement, and not due to any additional birthday gestures like he’d been contemplating (a fry up was always a good start to the day, after all), no - due to Tom. 

“We’re going for a ride and you’re going to enjoy it,” he announced the second Pete woke (with a start, thanks to the other boy dropping his riding jacket and boots on top of him). “Up and at ‘em.” 

“But what about Mav’s-?”

“We’ll see him at the party, I’ve left a note,” Tom announced, grabbing the end of Pete’s quilt and dragging it out of the room with him. “Mush.”

“I hate you!”

“Hate me on the move. There is breakfast with our name on it somewhere.” 

“Ugh!” 

The ride, annoyingly, was fantastic. The roads were mostly clear, and riding with Tom was always a blast. Tom even bought him breakfast and a couple of pastries for after (“It’s your birthday, idiot. Of course I’m shouting”). It was… well, nice. Pete didn’t care about birthdays, he really didn’t, but even still… it was just nice. Sitting at the look out, munching on the food his best friend had bought for him, he found himself feeling genuinely content with life and how it was turning out. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to even imagine that. It was a moment he resolved to savour. 

“You feel any different?” Tom asked, smirking as he dusted the icing sugar from his Pączki off his fingers. 

Pete scoffed at the question, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding seriously. “I feel like I’ve levelled up, you know? Way more mature now. I feel like I’ve really grown as a person.”

“And yet not an inch vertically? Life’s not fair, is it-?”

“Fuck you!”

Tom snickered, ducking out of the way of the hand Pete swung at the back of his head, before holding his own up in surrender. 

“Seriously though, happy birthday,” he said, shooting Pete a warm smile that made his stomach do that fluttering thing he’d noticed it doing more and more often lately. 

Smiling himself and ducking his head, Pete shrugged. 

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well as somebody with a vested interest in your being born, I reckon it is,” Tom retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Pete scoffed, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he folded his arms over his knees. 

“A vested interest, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Nawww, you do like me,” Pete snickered. 

“You’re letting it get to your head.” 

“Is that why you brought me out here, to confess your undying love?” 

“In. your. dreams,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Bringing you out here was my present to both you and Mav.” 

“How is me going to go for a ride and being bought breakfast a present for Maverick? 

“You going for a ride and being bought breakfast means both you and I are here, not at home. Which means Mav and Ice have the whole place to themselves, all morning. And there’s no chance of either of us overhearing anything and being scarred for life.” 

Pete blinked at that, before pulling a face at the thought of Mav’s birthday ride and announcing, utterly serious, “You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for.”

“I know,” Tom drawled, before shrugging as he tucked the rubbish from his breakfast into his backpack. “And maybe I wanted to get in first with the birthday wishes.” 

“Always a competition with you, isn’t it?” Pete scoffed, ignoring the other boy’s derisive snort as he jumped back to his feet. “Race you back to the Hard Deck!” 

“Absolutely not!” Tom snapped, hurrying to his feet all the same as Pete bounded over to the bikes. “That flies entirely in the face of the contract!” 

“I laugh in the face of the contract!”

“Yes! That’s why it took so long to draft! Pete!” 

They didn’t end up racing back, much to Tom’s relief. As a result, by the time they pulled up, pretty much everybody had arrived at the beach. Bradely, Hangman, and Phoenix were still by the Bronco though, pulling the last of their stuff out the back.

“Ah, the birthday boy has arrived,” Hangman cried as they wandered over.

“Ha ha,” Pete scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning to Rooster. “Hey, can we dump our helmets and stuff in your car?”

“Sure, the back seat should be free,” he replied as he hefted the cooler from the trunk. “But really, happy birthday, Pete.”

“Ah, thanks?” Pete replied, a confused smile tugging at his lips as he stepped out of the way for Tom to stow his stuff away as well. That’s two times today. Weird. 

“What’s with the face?” Phoenix asked, laughing. “17 is a big deal.”

Pete laughed. 

“Yeah right,” he replied, stooping to grab one of the bags from their pile. “16’s supposed to be a big deal, and 18 definitely is. 17’s just there.”

“Agree to disagree. But, that raises a good question,” replied Jake, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What sort of Sweet 16 fiasco are we competing with today?” 

Pete arched a brow at the question, but figured it made sense. Out of all the milestone birthdays, 16 was the only relevant one he and Mav had an overlap on. Though he wasn’t sure how much “I spent most of it in the ER with a broken arm’ would help with gauging the temperature for how this one was going.

Instead he just shrugged. 

“Nothing really special. I’m sure this’ll be way better.”

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” Jake replied with a grin, ruffling Pete’s hair (and then, far more amusingly, Tom’s), before leading the way over to the sand. 

Pete blinked as they drew closer. A lot of people had turned up. All of the daggers were here, pitching up chairs and umbrellas or tossing a football (actually, two footballs) around while almost all the uncles and even Viper milled about among them. Mav, Ice, Slider, and Penny were getting the barbecue started, chatting with Warlock and Cyclone (which was weird, but probably Ice’s doing). He even spotted Amelia and Theo slip out of the Hard Deck, deep in conversation with Hondo (about something nerdy and interesting no doubt) to join the group. 

“Damn, Mav sure invited a lot of people for someone who pulls faces whenever anybody utters the number 60 around him,” he laughed as he hefted the bag further up his shoulder. “Or are you all gatecrashing just to torment him?”

Jake snorted at that, rolling his eyes. 

“Nah. Though he is being a baby about it, so if we did it would be his own fault,” he replied. 

“He actually ordered us not to mention ‘the situation’ the other day,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head.

“In fairness, Roo - you and Bagman were having a lot of fun at his expense,” said Phoenix as they all dropped their bags on the sand and set about making camp. She grinned at Pete and Tom. “There have been lots of fossil jokes. These two even smuggled a walker on base and swapped it with his lectern before debrief. He had to walk it to the side of the classroom.”

“Cruel,” Tom snickered from beside him. “Funny, but cruel.”

“You know it,” Jake cackled, dropping his bags down on the sand before stretching his arms over his head. “But nah, he’s opted out of a group celebration. Don’t know why. But I’m afraid that means you’re flying solo today, baby bro.”

Pete blinked again. 

“...I’m what?”

“You’ve got the spotlight pretty much to yourself today,” Bradley replied, shrugging like it was the simplest thing. “Apparently he’s got some day-trip planned with Ice tomorrow, so he’s sorted. That just leaves you with all of the attention. Reckon you can handle that?”

…Shit. 

Shit, shit shit - he had not prepared for this. He’d not expected this. What the hell even was this?! He’s turning 17. Who gives a shit?! Why the hell would all of these people come out here, some of them a hell of a long way, just for him?! They wouldn’t. Had they not been told it was just for him? Did Mav wriggle out of this at the last second and now he had 20+ people who’d pretty much written off half their weekend for no reason on his hands? 

“Pete, you alright?” Tom asked, shaking his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. 

Pete grimaced, before glancing around at the others and finding them all looking at him with concern. 

He pulled on a wide grin and laughed. 

“Me? Yeah, of course!” he replied cheerily, mind racing all the while. He needed a minute to himself. To come up with a plan. To fix this. 

Quickly turning back to the others, slapping his forehead as he did, he said, “You know what? I think I left my phone on my bike. Just gonna go grab that, can’t lose another one. Are you guys good here for a sec?”

“I mean, yeah,” Tom said slowly, frowning. 

“Great!” Pete cheered (perhaps a bit too overzealously, but whatever) before spinning around and, with a quick “Back in a moment!” taking off back up the beach. 

Right, step one, calm the hell down. He had to get a hold of himself and he had to do it now. 

Alright, it was a surprise. Alright, there were probably going to be some irritated people down there. So what? He could deal with irritated people. He could deal with people that actively wanted to kick his ass, irritated is nothing. Why the hell was he freaking out so much? Less than a year of being treated nicely and he’d gone completely soft, seriously?

He shook his head roughly. 

He was fine. This was fine. He’d make it work somehow. He just needed to stop acting like a baby and come up with a plan of action. 

He could direct attention back to Maverick. The old man can try and wriggle out of it all he likes but two can play this game. He’ll stick around for an hour, direct as much attention to Mav as possible, whip Jake and Bradely up into enough of a frenzy to keep the momentum going and then make a classy exit. Nobody will even remember he was here and they’ll forget all about this misunderstanding. That’s good. That’ll work. 

…Unless Mav launches a counter-attack. Which he would. 

Shit!

“Pete?” 

Pete whirled around and found Mav and Ice approaching, both looking concerned and not all that surprised to see him up here. Goddamnit, Tom, the snitch!!

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Mav asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty good question man,” Pete replied, running a hand through his hair anxiously as he glanced down at the beach once more before turning his attention (and frustration) back to the older man. “I get that you’ve got some sort of three quarter life crisis going on about turning 60, but seriously, throwing me under the bus so you can avoid that is a dick move.” 

Mav, the bastard, looked more confused than chastened at the rebuke, exchanging a bemused glance with Ice. 

“You’re going to have to spell this one out for us, buddy.”

Pete groaned, folding his hands on top of his head. 

“First, explain it to me, guys,” he replied. “What was the plan? Trick everyone here by saying it’s a party for Mav and then hope people aren’t too put out when it turns out it was for the other Mitchell? Jeez guys, I mean, what the hell? Why the hell?! Nobody gives a damn it’s my birthday. I don’t give a damn it’s my birthday. Now it looks like I do, and now I get to look like the stupid little moron who needed people tricked here to pad things out!”

“Pete,” Ice said slowly, holding his hands out like he was trying to calm down some wounded animal. Like Pete was being irrational about this. “You do know this party is for you, right?”

“Yes,” Pete replied with every ounce of patience he possessed. “I’m aware of that. That’s exactly my point”

“No. He means it was always intended to be just for you,” Mav weighed in. 

Pete sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his very best to channel Ice and remain as diplomatic as he possibly could (it did not help, mind you, that Ice was joining in on this nonsense. But he tried nevertheless). 

“Look,” he said with forced calm, “I see what you’re trying to do, and it’s a nice thought. I appreciate that you guys care and want to make a fuss, I do. But you can’t just expect to trick people into writing off half their weekend for one thing, and then bait and switch with a discount offer at the last second. Wood and Wolf flew in from Texas for this, guys. Please. I’ll see if I can get the Daggers to lay off the fossil jokes, but- …what’s this?”

“Read it,” Ice replied, holding his phone out to Pete until he took it and did as he was told. 

Jake has named the group chat: Big Effing Deal Jake: First of all, how. dare. you? Nat: Seconded! Both for leaving us out and forcing me to agree with Bagman. Jake: Look what you’ve brought us too!!!  Nat: I feel physically sick.  Jake: Ditto. Bradley: Wow, you guys really are in sync today.  Nat: You take that back!!! Ice: Could somebody please explain what we’re being accused of here.  Jake: Betrayal!!!  Coyote: Dude - you’ve been hitting the expresso machine again, haven’t you? Mav: Guys. BOB: Rooster mentioned you are having a get together for Pete’s birthday on Saturday and we’re all handling the rejection differently. Fanboy: How could you, Mav? Mav: Well first, there’s no rejection for anybody to handle. We floated the idea of a beach party this morning and he seemed alright with it. So if you guys are free and want to come along, you’re more than welcome to.  Jake: Was that so hard?!!!! Mav: If you’d waited a few more hours I’d have invited you in person at work tomorrow. Jake: But Roo gets his invite right away??? :(  Ice: Rooster was over during the day, so yes, he heard first. Rooster: Remember how you were supposed to help me fix their gate today?  Jake: Nope. Poorly communicated on your part.  Jake: Moving swiftly on - we need times. And gift ideas. Nat: What a crappy brother. I got my present for him weeks ago.  Payback: Burn.  Payback: Also, same. Jake: You’re a pair of goody-goodies, I’m not surprised in the slightest.  Jake: Besides it doesn’t matter how early you got it. It’s how good it is. Nat: Got you beat there too Bagman.  Jake: Bullshit. Pete and I have a connection.  Payback: Is that what we’re calling you being a terrible influence now? Coyote: Just before these three properly kick off - is this a joint birthday bash? Or Pete-specific? Mav: Pete specific.  Mav: I’ve already got plans for mine.  Ice: And by that he means I have already made plans for him.  Ice: They’re on Sunday though, so we’ll be there regardless.  Mav: And people think I’m the competitive one. My point is, I’m covered, so don’t go worrying about that. Coyote: Roger that!  Fanboy: This is going to be great!! I can bake a cake if you like!!! Lil bro likes chocolate, right? Payback: Guys - take him up on the offer!  Phoenix: This! ^^^^^ Ice: That would be lovely, Fanboy, thank you. And yes, chocolate would be well received I expect.  Fanboy: Yeeeeeesssss!!  Mav: Right, we’re just going to leave you guys to this.  Rooster: Oh, actually, just before you go… Bradley’s added Sly-Guy, Chip_P, E!News, Full_M00ning…  Mav: Oh you little shit stirrer.  Sli-Guy: First of all, how dare you?! 

Pete blinked, utterly mystified, as he scrolled through the group chat (which seemed to go on for quite a bit) before eventually turning back to Ice and Mav. 

“I… I don’t understand,” he uttered. 

“Join the club, kiddo,” Mav replied, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You helped plan this,” Ice pointed out, a baffled expression on his ordinarily nonplussed face. “I specifically asked you if you would like a party at the Hard Deck?” 

“I thought you were asking for my input for Mav’s party,” Pete muttered, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he realised just how stupid he apparently was. 

“The daggers have been talking to you about it all week?” Mav pointed out, equally confused. “Bob asked you what snacks you’d like him to bring.” 

“I thought they were coming to me because they couldn’t get anything out of you!” Pete snapped back hotly. 

Ice held up a hand, cutting that line of conversation off before it could get too heated. Taking a deep, exceedingly put upon breath, he sighed “Once again, it appears that this family’s outstanding communication skills have come back to bite us all in the ass.”

He turned back to Pete.  

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise party,” he said.

Pete scoffed softly, in spite of himself, but soon enough the begrudging amusement gave way to confusion once more. 

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why would all of them come out if they knew it was just for me?” 

“How’s it any different from them coming out for me?” Maverick asked with a frown.

Pete shrugged. 

“They’re your family,” he replied simply. “They’re supposed to show up for you.” 

“They’re your family too,” Maverick argued, his frown deepening. 

“You do know that, don’t you?” Ice said slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Yeah. Course,” Pete muttered, cutting a quick glance to the group in question. Nobody seemed to have noticed they were gone yet, thank goodness. Somehow Pete felt like he’d find himself even more outnumbered if they did. He had to bury this quick though, if he wanted to avoid that fate. 

Unfortunately, when he turned back to the oldtimers, Ice had his signature ‘so you’re just going to lie to my face now?’ expression in place. Never a good sign. Also almost never directed at Pete he realised with a dull pain. 

“You know, you pull that face every time this topic of conversation comes up.”

“What face?” 

“The ‘well if it makes them happy’ face,” Ice replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Be honest with us, Pete. What’s going on here?”

Pete shrunk back a little at that, feeling very much under a spotlight all of a sudden and not entirely sure why. 

“N-nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Well clearly something is. And just to be clear, do you honestly believe that we’d have all been fine throwing a party for Maverick and doing absolutely nothing for you?” the older man asked, arching a brow pointedly. 

“I… I mean… I… I’d get it,” Pete stuttered, heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was going on? What did he even do? He took a step back, giving into the instinct to at least be out of arm's length, only to knock into the back of Ice’s Jeep when he tried. Crap. He was trapped. And he was in trouble. And he didn’t know why. 

His alarm must have shown on his face too, because soon enough Ice was taking a step back himself, hands held up disarmingly. 

“Pete, I’m not angry with you,” he said, calmly and far gentler than before. “I’m sorry.”

Pete swallowed thickly, but nodded all the same as he tried to rein himself in, to calm down for goodness sake. He was being so damn stupid!!

“I just don’t understand,” Ice continued. “You know everybody here loves you, don’t you? We haven’t dropped the ball that much I hope.” 

Embarrassment and shame twisted sickeningly in the pit of Pete’s belly. Because he did know that. He knew how hard everybody had tried to make him and Tom feel welcome. And not just as novelty extensions of Mav and Ice either, but as their own, separate people. They’d all tried so hard to bring them into the family and make them feel like they belonged in it, Pete knew it. He saw it each day. For the most time, he felt it too, but there was just this part of him that wouldn’t allow him to accept it fully. Wouldn’t allow him to trust it. To trust them. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered weakly, staring down at the tips of his boots. “I… I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s not anything you guys have done, or haven’t done. I know how much you’ve all tried to be welcoming. And you have, truly. I love it here… so much. But… but every time I try to… it’s just in the back of my mind I’m always… I…” 

He flinched sharply when something touched his arm, but it was just Ice reaching out to him. All of a sudden, that contact, that offer of reassurance was all he wanted. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and leaned against the old man’s chest, dragging in a deep, calming breath as Ice’s arms wrapped around him, squeezed him in a tight. 

“I love it here,” he uttered. “And everybody here… and I know they- you all care - about me and Tom. But I just know…” 

He sighed deeply. 

“It’s just… self-preservation, I guess. I know it’s going to really hurt, so much, when I mess up.  I didn’t care, when it was just some other home I was stuck in longer than usual, but now… now it’s probably too late already. When I mess up and have to go-”

“Hey, who said anything about you going anywhere,” Ice said with a frown, holding him closer. “We told you, you have a place in this family for life. Nothing will change that.”

Pete sighed sadly, shaking his head where it was pressed to Ice’s sternum. They didn’t get it. They felt that way now, but it wouldn’t last. 

“No matter how hard you try, you’re going to end up alone.” 

Both Pete and Ice froze at that, before turning to face Maverick, who looked all the world like he’d just commented on the weather rather than putting one of Pete’s deepest, most painful fears to words. And he wasn’t done. 

“We’re going realise just how messed up you really are. How much damage has been done. How much of it can’t be undone. And, most importantly, how much of it you probably deserved. And sooner or later we’ll change our mind about you. It’s all well and good to say we’ll always want you in the family if we haven’t seen the full picture yet, because let’s face it, you’re on the good behaviour streak of a lifetime right now. But sooner or later, you’re going to mess up, because that’s what you do. And then we’ll see the real you. The screw up. The waste of space. The guy everybody else can see clearly. Eventually the rose-coloured glasses will come off and  we’ll really see you for what you are. We’ll get tired of trying to bring somebody into a family who doesn’t deserve to be in it and clearly is meant to be on their own. It’ll be better for everyone to just stop trying. We probably won’t kick you out, to be fair - but when you head off to college or the academy… the calls and emails will peter out. Tom will probably find his own people too, when he’s got other options. He’ll stop spending time with you too. It’ll probably be pretty amicable really. But everybody will just go on with their life and there will be no room for you in them. That will be that. Better to just accept it now, try not to get too attached to how things are, so when it happens, at least you won’t look like you were blindsided by it all. It’s a bit less pathetic if you at least saw it coming.” 

Pete’s stomach sunk so fast through the blacktop it felt like he was pulling negative G’s. Mav knew. Mav saw how this was going to play out just as clearly as he did. The first card in his little house was beginning to wobble. 

To his horror he felt his face beginning to heat up and his eyes beginning to sting. He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing them shut tight. He wasn’t a baby. This wasn’t a surprise. He wasn’t going to start crying in the middle of the car park where everybody could see him like some child. 

He jumped as an arm wrapped around his shoulders and looked up to find Ice, holding him close again, and leading them to the space between his jeep and Bradley’s Bronco - more or less out of sight from the rest of the group.

“Sit down and take a few deep breaths for me, kiddo,” he murmured, manoeuvring Pete until he was sitting down on the gravel, back pressed against the rubber of the Bronco’s tyre. Biting his lip, he folded his arms tight over his chest, knees drawing up as Ice kneeled down beside him and wrapped an arm back around his shoulders, rubbing up and down his arm soothingly all the while.. “In and out. Just like that. What the hell, Mav?” 

“Just trying to work out what we’re dealing with here,” Maverick replied, sounding tired and sad now. “Pete, can you look at me?”

Pete really didn’t want to. This was all humiliating and painful enough without risking bursting into tears the second he made eye contact with the old man as well. But, at the same time, this was the reality of the situation, and closing his eyes and hiding from it wasn’t going to change anything either, except to make him look even more childish. So whether he wanted to or not, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Clenching his jaw tight and breathing in deeply through his nose, he (as resolutely as he could manage) lifted his head and met Mav’s eye. He wasn’t expecting to be met with a sympathetic expression. How could Mav see him so clearly, and still look at him like that. 

“Does that about sum it up?” the old man asked, cocking his head to the side. “What’s going on in that head of yours.”

Scrubbing roughly at his face, Pete nodded his head. 

“M-more or less.” 

Mav hummed thoughtfully, pausing a moment, before smiling and sitting down properly across from them. 

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “The first time I met Carole, she scared that absolute crap out of me.” 

Pete blinked, confused at the strange turn their conversation had taken, but interested all the same. Mav wasn’t shy with talking about Goose or Carole, but he’d never heard that. 

A fond smile tugged at the edges of the old man’s mouth as he looked up wistfully at the sky. 

“People underestimated her. She was so loud and joyous all the time, most people figured she was probably a bit dim. But they had no idea. Sure she was smart enough, but her real strength was with people. She had this way of looking at a person, just looking at them, and seeing past all the bullshit.”

He shook his head. 

“The first shore leave after Goose and I became a team, Goose insisted that I come home with him. He hadn’t realised until we were literally docking that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so the second he put the pieces together it was, ‘Come on, you have to, Mav! It’ll be great. You can meet Carole. You guys will get on like a house on fire, I know it’. And I, for the life of me, couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to convince him otherwise. I think I was a bit blindsided that he was offering to spend more time together at all.” 

He scoffed. 

“Either way, the pressure was dialled up to 11,” he drawled. “Not only would I have to stay on my best behaviour for even longer, to keep Goose on side - and I’d been on a 6 month streak at that point and felt the end looming. But I also had to become best friends with his wife, immediately. Otherwise he’d wonder how he got that one so wrong. Then he’d look closer, and he’d see everything he’d somehow missed about me before. See exactly where I was lacking. Me getting to keep the one person in the navy, hell, the one person in the world that gave a damn about me - depended on this month going well.”

Rubbing at his scratchy eyes, Pete leaned a little more into Ice’s side, before asking. “You managed to pull that off?”

“Hell no, I lasted less than a week,” Mav scoffed, shaking his head. “And it only lasted that long because Goose and Carole had the patience of saints.”

Pete frowned. That didn’t make sense. He might not know this story but he knew a hell of a lot of the others that came later. He knew Mav stayed friends with Goose, and Carole as well, for years after when this would have happened. How could it not have worked? How did he screw up that badly and still manage to keep them around? 

He shot Ice a confused glance, receiving a ‘just roll with it’ shrug in response. 

“Carole was living in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere Texas at the time. Her aunt needed help moving or something. Unfortunately that meant I had had about six hours of travelling to work myself up and come up with a game plan for how I was going to make it all work. Going in with a charm offensive wouldn’t have done it, Goose would feel like making moves on his wife, Carole would feel like I was a creep, and I’d be stuck with both of them feeling like that for a month. I couldn’t risk being myself, for reasons already discussed. So I decided on the red carpet treatment. From the second I got out of Goose’s truck to the second we got back in it to head back to the airport, Carole Bradshaw would be shown a level of respect and deference that no admiral had or has ever received from me. The queen of England could have come around and found it excessive. But it was the best I had.

“I addressed her as ma’am, I stood when she walked into the room or got up from the table, I tried to help out around the house as much as I possibly could. A big part of the plan was also trying to give her and Goose as much space and time to themselves as possible. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and the absolute last thing I wanted is for them to miss out on time together because Goose felt obliged to bring me along with him. On paper, I thought it worked. Be respectful and stay out of the way. Unfortunately, in practice it went more along the lines of me actively avoiding everybody like it was my job and, whenever I couldn’t, making the situation so awkward it was uncomfortable for everybody. And it was uncomfortable. My god. Goose and Carole, they tried so hard to get me to relax, come out of my shell, do the exact opposite of what I was trying to do essentially. It was not going well,” Mav laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head at the memory. 

“Goose knew I was acting off, which was putting me even more on edge. And I knew I was quickly moving past that ‘meeting new people is awkward sometimes’ grace period straight into ‘this little twerp I’ve known for a few months has got a problem with the love of my life’ territory. So not ideal. And Carol… Carol knew from the beginning that I was putting up a front, which made settling around her pretty much impossible.”

Pete grimaced sympathetically at the thought of it all. 

“At least you stuck it out,” he muttered. “I would have just left at that point.”

“Oh, I did,” Mav replied without missing a beat. “About five days in everything finally bubbled over. Goose tried to coax me into telling him what was wrong for about the millionth time and… well, after days of constantly being on red alert, barely sleeping from the stress, just second guessing every single move or sound I made while knowing, in spite of trying my best, it was all going to hell - I sort of lost it on him. Told him he could take whatever friendship he thought we had and shove it where the sun don’t shine because I sure as hell didn’t need it or him. That I'd been on my own for over half my life and I didn’t need anybody, thank you very much, least of all some hapless, sheltered country-boy who clearly didn’t know what was good for him if it smacked him in the face. Then I grabbed my bag and went straight to the train station.”

Pete blinked owlishly at that, confused to say the least. 

“But I thought Goose was your best friend,” he said. 

“He was,” Mav replied. 

“Even after that?!” 

“I know, I was surprised too.” 

Pete frowned, puzzling it over as Mav laughed softly and shook his head.. 

“This being the tiny town it was, the train didn’t run very often, and I’d missed the one for that day - which was just the cherry on the top really. I figured I’d just spend the night on the platform. Didn’t want to risk missing the next one, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself at the time so it seemed fitting. Which was exactly where Carole found me three hours later.”

Ice scoffed softly beside Pete, shaking his head with a fond smile of his own. 

“Mother Goose sent in the big guns then,” he drawled. 

“I honestly have no idea if Goose even knew,” Mav replied, smiling reminiscently himself. “I think she just figured she’d given us both enough time to sulk and decided enough was enough.” 

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he recalled the encounter. 

“She came over and sat down on the ground beside me,” he said, looking around them, the corner of his lips twitching a fraction higher. “Sorta like we are right now.”

Pete smiled weakly at that. 

“She sat with me for the longest time, didn’t say a word, just waited me out, until she could tell I was ready to actually listen to her. Then she took my hand and said, “You know what, honey? If you were half as rotten as you’re afraid you are, you wouldn’t care nearly as much as you do”.”

Pete ducked his head as, all at once, tears started welling up once again. God he wanted that to be true. With every fibre of his being he did. He bit his lip as he felt Ice pull him a little tighter against his side, and heard Mav scoot closer himself, reaching out and rubbing his arm himself. 

“Do you think she was right about that,” he uttered, voice crackling with the strain of keeping himself together. 

Mav smiled, squeezing Pete’s arm gently as he inclined his head. 

“Honestly, I always had my doubts,” he confessed. “But these days… I think she probably was.” 

Before he could stop them, a couple of the tears Pete had been battling against broke free and rolled down his cheeks. 

“Oh, buddy,” Mav sighed, reaching up to rub the moisture away. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes I forget how much all of that stuff hurt.” 

Pete leaned into the contact, the corner of his mouth twitching a little as he did so.

“Actually pretty good to hear that from my perspective,” he murmured, drawing soft scoffs from the oldtimers. 

Shaking his head fondly, Mav patted Pete’s arm one last time before folding them over his crossed legs. 

“I’m telling you this for two reasons,” he said, ducking his head to meet Pete’s eye once again. “First, and I really am sorry for this but, unfortunately, this is just one of those cards that you and I got dealt. This is something that you were always going to have to work through. Being on your own for so long, and getting told so many times and in so many ways that nobody wants you, and nobody will ever want you - it leaves a mark. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It's just a hurdle that we get that some people don’t. Everyone’s got their own set. For us - it’s being very, very aware of just how much other people can hurt you, while at the same time knowing how much the alternative hurts too.”

Pete sighed softly, but nodded all the same. That point wasn’t exactly news to him, but it still sucked hearing it all the same. 

“And second,” Mav said, reaching out and brushing Pete’s hair back from his face with a small, reassuring smile. “Even though it doesn’t always feel like it, and that feeling will flare up from time to time unfortunately, some people really do stay.”

Pete lifted his head to look at the old man properly, something like hope fluttering weakly in the pit of his belly. 

“They stick by you as long as they possibly can, through more crap than you could possibly imagine. I know it’s hard to really let yourself believe that right now. I know it feels like the second you do it’ll all fall apart around you, like a house of cards. But that will fade with time and with evidence. You’re just going to have to trust me until then. You’re not meant to be alone. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong or bad about you. The people who are worth a damn, they stay - you just have to let them in in the first place.”

The older man leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Just be careful, because once you do, it’s all bets off. I had one moment of weakness around Slider 36 years ago and now I’m stuck with him.” 

Pete laughed wetly at that, smiling back as Mav practically beamed at him. 

“I hope you’re right,” he uttered, rubbing again at his face. 

“I am,” Mav replied, nodding firmly. “And look, I’m not going to lie to you and promise forever. Nobody knows what’s around the corner. Hell, a tsunami could take us all out right now.” 

Pete scoffed softly, rolling his eyes as Maverick ruffled his hair teasingly. 

“But the stuff you’re worried about, the mistakes you’re worried about making, I’m sorry but they’re just not gonna cut it.” 

Ice nodded at that. 

“Unfortunately, to shake us at this point you’d have to do things that you’re simply not capable of. And they certainly wouldn’t be accidental.” 

Pete frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. 

“...Could you give me a clue?” he asked. “You know, to be safe.”

Ice scoffed softly, before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Alright. We’re talking about doing things that would deliberately traumatise others. Not accidents, like a car crash or getting in a really bad fight, though we’d all rather you avoided that too. Stuff that’s just evil. Things specifically done to make somebody else feel afraid or humiliated or less than” Ice replied calmly, brow rising pointedly. “Do you feel that avoiding that sort of behaviour would be a struggle for you?”

“Fuck, no,” Pete replied, nose wrinkling at the thought of doing anything along those lines.

Ice  nodded. 

“There you go. There’s the bar,” he replied simply. “Anything above that? Worst case scenario, you’re the pain in the ass of the week. And that’s a title we’ve all held at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

“Unjustly,” he sniffed. 

“Ask Uncle Sli about it some time,” Mav replied without missing a beat, before turning back to Pete before Ice could retort. “Honestly kiddo, do you really think Bradely was an angel growing up?” 

“Well… yeah?”

“Think again,” Ice drawled. 

Mav hummed, nodding seriously. 

“Off the top of my head, there was that time he threw a party with his baseball team while we were out of town and trashed the house.”

“The bike he borrowed without asking, rode unlicensed, and totalled - on a dare.” 

“The kitchen he nearly burned down because ‘guys - you can’t pause online games, how many times do I have to tell you?’ and ‘I want bacon’ turned out to be a bad mix.”

“The spy-phase that ended with him trying to sneak onto a military base, ours that is, and then refusing to answer any questions or co-operate after getting caught.” 

“I maintain that that was mostly Hollywood’s fault for taking him to watch True Lies.” 

Pete blinked, stunned by the antics of, by far, one of the more mature ‘big brothers’ he had. 

Ice scoffed, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. 

“And we still love the kid. Did back then when it happened and through much less amusing run-ins too,” he said, before squeezing Pete a little tighter to his side. “So try not to worry so much. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to do stupid things. Mav does stupid things every other day and we still keep him around. And that’s these days. He was an absolute menace when I first met him. And six years older than you are now. You’re a dream in comparison.”

Mav huffed. 

“You are a delight,” he said, patting Pete on the shoulder, before shooting his husband a pointed look. “But I think some people are forgetting which one of us introduced himself by immediately talking shit.”

“We were competing and the fact that you still bring it up almost 40 years later just further emphasises what a sound psychological victory that introduction was for me.”

“I mean I wanted to kick your ass all the more afterwards, so I’m not sure how much of a victory it was.”

“Well you never did, so a big one I would say.”

“Bullshit I never did-!”

“Go-ddddddd,” Pete groaned, though he couldn’t help but grin at the bickering, which, in the span of 10 months, had somehow become the comforting soundtrack of home for him (which probably said a lot about Ice and Maverick, but who cares). “Wher’es Tom when you need him?”

“Our point,” Ice said pointedly, shooting Mav a look that said quite clearly ‘we’re supposed to be a united front, genius (also, you know I’m right), “Is that you’re going to make mistakes. Everybody does. You’re going to do stupid things, things that we don’t approve of. And, because we’re here to help you become the best person you can be, we’ll call you out on it. At one point or another, we’ll disagree, we’ll argue, feelings will probably get hurt, egos will get bruised. And then, we’re going to be here anyway. Because you’re a member of this family and that’s not going to change.” 

“And we’ll remind you of that however many times you need,” Mav replied, smiling warmly at him, before slapping his own knees and leaning back. “Now, how would you like to proceed from here? Are you alright breaking the Birthday Drought today or would you like to go home and we can just have a nice family dinner tonight. Which would you rather?”

Pete bit his lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I guess I… I wouldn’t mind staying,” he replied, his heart and stomach fluttering again at the thought of all these people, his family, turning up just for him. But this time, he found his emotions leaning more on the side of nervous excitement rather than all-consuming dread. “I mean, It’s been a minute.” 

“You’re sure?” Ice asked seriously, rubbing Pete’s back reassuringly. “Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.” 

Pete ducked his head, a small smile spreading across his face as, for the first time since this whole miscommunication came to light, and before that really, something seemed to settle inside of him. Some knot of tension that had been there for so long that he’d just learned to live with it, seemed to ease just the littlest bit. He did not doubt, for a second, that if he decided to leave now, Ice and Mav (and Tom) would cover for him, would back him up and stand in his corner. Whether they needed to or not, and Pete suspected things would probably topple in the direction of ‘not’ because the others would understand.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath (like Ice had been teaching him) he lifted his head a smiled a little wide. 

“I want to,” he said. “Seriously, if I ever say no to chocolate cake I want you to assume that somebody’s stolen my face and is impersonating me.” 

“Mark that down for both of us,” Mav replied, nodding empathetically. 

“Noted,” Ice scoffed, smiling as the three of them got back to their feet. “In that case, we should probably get back. Tom said he’d try to keep them all in one place to give us a moment alone but the fact that he seems to have managed it is making me nervous.” 

Pete snickered as Mav shot him an amused grin, before they both followed Ice back to the beach. It turned out the old man may have been right to worry. 

“In my defence,” Tom drawled as he jogged over to meet them. “I didn’t expect them all to lose their minds.” 

Pete felt like that was a pretty accurate description for the mayhem they’d just walked into. Almost all the daggers and a few of the flyboys were shouting, waving their arms about, jabbing fingers in faces or, in Fanboy’s case, cackling rather manically. And those that weren’t seemed content to either enjoy the show or stoke the fires all the more. It was pandemonium. 

“What did you do?” Ice sighed as they drew closer. 

Tom shrugged. 

“I casually mentioned that Pete and I watched Die Hard for the first time, and asked what other Christmas movies we should watch. And, well...” 

“IT’S SET ON CHRISTMAS EVE, BAGMAN!!! HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DO YOU NEED IT?!” 

“THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT! IT’S AN ACTION MOVIE-”

“ON CHRISTMAS EVE!” 

“OH MY GOD! SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?!!” 

“Well, it did distract them,” Ice replied, arching a brow as he took it all in. “They’re going to go full Lord of the Flies any moment now, but it worked.” 

Tom grinned, before slinging an arm around Pete’s shoulders and drawling, “Wanna make it worse?”

“You’ve been a terrible influence on him,” Ice sighed, shooting Mav a despairing glance as Pete laughed softly and shrugged. 

“Sure.”

Tom winked before calling over the noise, “Alright, maybe Die Hard can go one way or the other-”

“NO IT CAN’T,” Jake and Nat hollered in unison, before immediately shooting each other disgusted glares. 

“But surely we can all agree that Nightmare before Christmas-” 

And they were off again, with renewed vigour and with previous alliances suddenly shattered. 

Pete laughed as he took it all in. Tom’s arm around his shoulders; Mav and Ice squeezing his arm and ruffling his hair respectively as they walked by to try and reign in the chaos; Rooster and Hangman each elbowing their way through the crowd, hollering for him to back them up. 

The fears were still there, bubbling away beneath the surface. Pete felt that they probably always would. Allowing himself to stay this attached, to actually believe that maybe this time, just this once, things truly would turn out different… it was risky. Frankly it was downright dangerous. 

“Right, enough of this!!” Rooster hollered over the noise. “Let’s settle this properly.” 

“Agreed,” Jake replied, nodding firmly. “Dogfight football. I bags the babies.” 

“What?!” 

“You can’t take both of them!”

“Can. Did. Pete, Tom, come on.” 

Sometimes, the risks were worth taking. And, well, he’d always liked to think he was a little dangerous.

[reel-fear]

If you want my opinion, I think we should give Lone Wolf the benefit of the doubt, yes it does look a little bit cheap in some areas but the game does look pretty fun and both the art and characters are still on point. Alice and Sammy are also returning so that’s a plus! I think it’s best that we stay optimistic for this game and Bendy’s future.

That's fair and I respect your opinion, I think my thing is I'm worried people are too optimistic about Bendy's future games being better than the ones they've already created because the team behind Bendy is very anti-listening to feedback. Which means it's likely these games won't improve unless fans make a bigger push to be more critical of them and show the devs they won't spend their money unless the team can prove they care about this franchise and aren't gonna let the polish drain just because it makes more money.

I criticize Bendy not because I want it to die or be bad, I only do it because I hope one day either 1. A competitor rises up and gives the fans essentially a better version of Bendy that they deserve and they can use my feedback and others to see where it can be improved. or 2. The bendy team listens to my feedback and the general fandom's to make future games better. Plus generally get their act together.

As it stands the trailer is rushed and cheap, which is bad because a trailer for a game should be the most polished part of the affair. I mean this is what is supposed to convince people to buy the game when it comes out! I had the same problems with The Cage and I'm unhappy to see this becoming a pattern. [I mean that's a game I'm even more confident is going to horribly crash and burn cause I honestly don't know why'd they make a midquel to a game which everyone hated the ending of-]

Look. I understand some people feel a sort of loyalty to the Bendy devs, it's hard not to feel like you're in some sort of friendship when it comes to such a small indie team. But at the end of the day you have to remember defending them when they mess up only gives them more reasons to ignore feedback and most of all you don't know Mike or Meatly as people outside of what they Choose to show in their public image. So when the public image they've crafted is one that's bad and leaves people worried about how the games they're making are gonna turn out. Nobody can be blamed but them. And if you really care about them and/or Bendy it's better to boost feedback even if it's negative.

Like sure Sammy and Malice are returning but look at the treatment they got in Dark Revival! Meatly and Mike have never addressed how poorly done the original characters were in that game and I think it's cause far as they're concerned it was perfectly fine and people are complaining about nothing. [That or enough people didn't seem to care for it to matter to them whether that point was valid or not] Despite the fact Sammy was shot down for a gag after finally speaking up [and was in a ton of Dark Revival marketing material] and Malice was nothing more than a rip off of her chapter 3 self with no interesting changes, we never got to hear her thoughts on how the world is doing, on how she feels now hearing her enemy, the ink demon, was supposedly killed, or on Wilson, the keepers, etc. I mean it was a huge waste and with the promise Sammy will be 'restored to his Chapter 2 glory' I want to call this poor writing out now rather than wait for the cage to come out and pretend I never saw it coming.

Criticism is a good thing for Bendy, we should embrace it rather than shunning or discouraging it. I hope most of us can agree on that. Even if I seem harsh, I would rather lean towards that, than risk going too easy with my words and being ignored by the devs.

[alleywayrat]

Ow Characters gen headcann

I was going to write underneath the mistletoe but that didn't happen so now it's whatever I can come up with yayyyyy

This is just a whole mess of all over the place that's just how it is sometimes

No mention of readers gender, or any bodily parts

Characters - Junkrat, Bap

We all know he's incredibly energetic all the time and that will translate to how he kisses and makes out with you

Not often does he have very soft kisses, but when he does it's when you catch his alone when he's incredibly tired, whether that be waking up with him or finding him/he finds you after a big heist or mission.

Waking up with him is waking up with his limbs everywhere, sprawled out starfish style with an arm smack across your face, or him clinging to you koala style with no hope of escape.

He definitely moves around in his sleep a ton so I hope you're not a light sleeper cause you're gonna get smacked.

He's the kinda guy to fall asleep a normal way and wake up completely upside down with his head where his feet were.

A massive showoff when it comes to the things he makes and his heists, loves showing you all the cool stuff he can do.

Wants Roadhog to like you, and really hopes you guys get along cause you're his two favorite people.

Does get lonely from time to time, and wishes more people would like him (his voiceline w/Bap) and when he gets like this he will get clingy and won't want to leave your side at all.

Absolutely loves listening to you talk about the things that you love and are interested in, and will just fall head over heels if you actually listen to him when he's telling you about his hobbies and stuff and loves when you show a genuine interest in the things he's saying, because nobody else will ever listens to him.

Jean is a very loving guy and absolutely smothers you in it (in a good way). He's a very respectful and attentive guy and will always take care of your boundaries and notice things about you, like the tells for when you're feeling down in anyway.

Speaking of when you're feeling down, out of this list of characters Jean, besides Lucio, is the most attentive. As a man who has suffered through most of his life due to the omnic war, falling into Talon, and the many other things that are unspecified in his lore but one can assume many other terrible things happened due to these events and just in general due to the life he has lived, Jean knows what it is like to suffer, to be depressed and anxious, to be scared and lonely. Whether your problems are smaller or bigger, Jean will always care for you and be there for you during them. Due to the suffering he has endured, Jean wants nothing more than to keep the people around him safe, and help them when he can.

Very flirty with you, just a huge flirt. Loves it when you flirt back but if you get flustered he finds it absolutely adorable.

If you get hurt he's all over you, worrying about your health if you're injured. When you go on missions he's worried when you go out of his sight but he knows you're strong enough to hold your own. When you get back he gives you the biggest hug ever and makes sure you're still absolutely safe.

Sleeping with Jean is sweet. He prefers to be the big spoon, he loves being the one to hold you, it plays in to his protective side, but if you wanted he would be open to you being the one to hold him.

[karamazovposting]

On incommunicability

I saw a post that mentioned how Ivan is so radicalized by child abuse and yet hates Pavel so much and I want to talk about it because I genuinely think about it a lot (I clearly have issues), but I'm making my own post because I don't want to randomly come rambling into a stranger's notes.

I've said it before, but Ivan is a paradoxical (I mean, other characters refer to him as such multiple times) person and that's exactly what I love about him and the dynamic between him and Pavel. In theory he wants to help people and in some instances he does, such as the whole making Dmitri escape prison situation and his encounter with the peasant in the snow, but when he has to get emotionally close in order to do so, like he would have had to do with Pavel, he doesn't. Ivan was the only one who could have helped Pavel, except he couldn't because he has issues and can only interact with others and love at a distance.

The difference between Dmitri's situation and Pavel's is that when it comes to the former, Ivan can still act at a safe distance and even through Katya and Alyosha, so it's not an emotional ordeal. There are a lot of feelings at play in this kind of situations and feelings are not something Ivan is good with, and I think it makes sense for him to feel such rage towards Pavel simply because that's what Ivan turns any feeling he doesn't know how deal with into, so I wouldn't exactly call Ivan a hypocrite as I think it's more complicated than that; pushing away people is all he does and it's coherent of him to do so with Pavel too. To me it also makes sense for him to fail to see the suffering children that the adults around him once were, as absurd that may seem. It's all about rage and the blindness that comes with it.

It's important to highlight that it's explicitly stated that even Ivan himself doesn't know why he feels so angry towards Pavel; I've always wondered about the background of Ivan's change of attitude towards him, considering they used to have a civil relationship and it's mentioned that they used to have intellectual conversations as well, and honestly I think it's because of Ivan and his comfort zone: when things become too much, he distances himself. It's obvious that he knows what his brothers' childhoods were like, he even brings up the suffering of children at lunch with Alyosha, he knows that it ties them all together and that knowledge, on top of the abuse, has impacted him deeply. Having Pavel keep trying to get closer angers him even more and, personal opinion here, it reminds me of the way Fyodor tries to get Ivan to talk to him in some passages of the book. On the other hand, Pavel tells Ivan he's just like their father because to him Ivan is in fact just like their father: another person who discarded him. And it all stems from a deep mutual misunderstanding.

I can't really condemn Ivan, just like I can't really condemn Pavel (or Dmitri); they're a product of their environment and to me The Brothers Karamazov is also a book about misunderstanding and incommunicability: sometimes there's just some sort of invisible barrier between family members that nobody can really do anything about, and sometimes you find yourself in something that is so messed up, so tangled and so much bigger than you that you just don't know where to start to fix it (you can't, not alone at least) and I hope you get what I'm trying to say as it's difficult to explain the very specific and complicated mechanisms and feelings in such dysfunctional family dynamics.

I've said before that I don't consider Ivan's character and story tragic and while I still stand by that, this is to me the tragic thing about him: he, who has empathy for and wants to help those who've been abused, could've done something to actually help a (now grown) abused child close to him, in his own family, but couldn't even try due to being emotionally neglected (and therefore a now grown abused child) himself. In the end his inability to break the cycle, which is itself part of the cycle, digs his own grave and that's incredibly fucking sad.