#i know its not your fault but take a big fucking breath and hold my hand and we'll get through it

[buginateacup]

Anxiety is exhausting as fuck and can fuck right off

[evie-sturns]

boyfriend - Matt Sturniolo

summary: where your boyfriend of 2 years breaks up with you without reason, you go to your comfort place, your best friend matt's house and he does everything he can to calm you down.

contains: fluff, bestfriend!matt, crying, comforting.

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panic flushes over me, my body heats up as my eyes scan over the screen of my phone. i instantly call him, my boyfriend aiden

"are you serious aiden?" i raise my voice as he picks up the phone,

"we're done, i told you." he says blankly with next to no emotion in his voice, hes been my boyfriend for just over 2 years.

he knows the shape of my lips against his,

he knows that i can't sleep by myself,

he knows my family,

he knows my daily routine from the second i wake up to the second my head hits the pillow.

and now he breaks up with me over text.

"why!?" i cry, i hear a subtle scoff from aiden before he hangs up. i instantly start to sob, throwing myself up off my bed and grabbing my keys.

i run downstairs and out the door into the night air, making my way down my driveway towards my cute small car.

i slam the door to my car shut, sinking down into the drivers seat as i check my phone. i've been blocked on almost everything already.

tears soak my cheeks as i let out shaky sobs.

--------

11:49

i knock twice on matt's front door, wearing sweatpants and a small shirt. my shoulders are by my sides, shaking up and down with each panicked cry.

after a couple of seconds the door opens slowly, i'm met with matts face.

he looks down at me, a short gasp escapes his mouth as he looks at the state of me.

he grabs my hand and frantically pulls me inside, "hey- hey whats going on?" matt asks , trying to sound calm.

"matt- matt." i sob, he grabs me and pulls me into a tight up, running his mildly shaking hand up and down my back

"shh.. sh sh." matt attempts to shush me before pulling me down the corridor into his bedroom.

he throws me down onto his matress, instantly chucking a blanket over me and sitting down next to me.

he waits for me to speak, still completely unaware why i showed up to his house in floods of tears at midnight.

"i- aiden broke up.. with- with me" i manage to squeeze out in between shaking breathes.

matt goes silent before pulling me onto his lap, holding me across him. i cry into his shirt

"over text with no reason-!" i continue

matt stays silent, breathing deeply. i copy his breathing pattern "you 'wanna know something?" matt says, i nod

"he's made a big mistake, you're the most lovely girl i know. aiden doesn't know what hes lost because- i know, i know that he will regret letting go of the most gorgeous, sweet girl ever." matt sighs,

"yeah?" he continues, i nod shyly.

he rubs my arm, "you can let it all out okay?" matt says softly, picking me up and standing up out of bed, he pulls back the silky sheets of his bed before placing me.

he lays down next to me, pulling up the blanket over us, i lay my head on his chest.

"he never cared about me matt." i admit "and now half my shit is- its just stuck in his apartment" i sniffle, wiping my nose on his shirt which matt doesn't bat an eye to.

"you know what, i'll go get it now okay? chris can come stay in here while im gone." matt says, heaving himself up of the bed

"matt you don't have to do that- honestly," i protest, matt just shakes his head

"don't worry 'bout it." he says, walking out of the room.

-

chris walks into the room wearing blue pyjama pants and a loose fit white shirt, he has a concerned expression on his face as he flops down on the bed beside me

"you okay?" he asks, "i don't know- i'll be fine." i reply with a strained voice.

"matt told me what happened, i'm sorry about aiden or whatever the fuck hes called." chris sighs

he wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to his side, we lay in a comfortable silence for about 30 minutes before matt comes back

"im sorry i gotta take a shit, thats my fault give me a couple minutes." chris blurts out

"thanks chris." i laugh slightly as he sits up, walking out of the room.

-

matt comes back in holding 2 bags in his hands, he brings them over to me with a soft smile on his face. he reaches his ringed hand up and scratches the side of his face.

"you didn't have to- how'd it go..?" i say, matt lays back down next to me

"he was screaming at me the whole time, all 'who the fuck are you' but i think he recognised me after a minute of ransacking your room." matt laughs

i shake my head "i'm sorry."

"don't be" matt says,

"try go to sleep now okay?" he says pressing a kiss to my forehead.

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TAGLIST:

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt

[thebearer]

arguing with carmen and its big enough where you leave for the night but what’s even scarier to him is that you also took teddy

he'd have an actual psychotic break, nervous breakdown.

especially bc i'm picturing him reverting back to his old ways. it's rare, but he slips into a full carmy (in the lock in) level meltdown. gets unbalanced and spirals further and further, and you just happen to be who he takes it out on.

screaming at you like a maniac over something stupid- you didn't wash his spare whites (he didn't tell you they needed to be washed). it's his fault, he knows it deep down, still he's losing his shit because it's the final straw.

"you stay at home all day! all fucking day and you can't do one thing!" carmen's red faced, screaming.

you're shocked, scared, on the brink of sobbing yourself. teddy's woke up from her nap, his screaming startled her. the newborn wailing from her nursery.

"carmen, you didn't tell me-"

"-i shouldn't have to!" carmen roars. "you're home all day-"

"-i'm on maternity leave. i just had a baby-"

"-oh, so. you can't do one fuckin' thing now? i have to do it all here too?" carmen is spiraling, pacing, running a hand down his face. "i get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then i come home so i can go back and work my ass off some more, and you can't help me out?"

his words sting, shock you with the weight of them. swallowing back tears, you turn, climbing the stairs to the bedroom.

carmen is scoffing, hands shaking with rage and annoyance and just overwhelmed. your ignoring him stings. makes him spiral even more. "don't go do it now! it's too late!" carmen scoffs. "i've got a fuckin' critic coming in two hours, and i'll wear stained whites. probably get a shitty review about our food being gross an-and the chef being just as bad!"

you texted pete through your tears, telling him that you were coming to stay there for a while. shoving clothes for the night in your small bag quickly, hands shaking when you zipped it up, your wedding ring flashing at you. you stared at it, a wave of tears coming over you, screwing the ring off your finger and setting it on carmen's night stand next to a photo of you two on your honeymoon.

you packed teddy and anchovy's things quickly, knowing you'd come back tomorrow to get what else you needed. just the essentials, to get through the night. anchovy in his carrier, and teddy in her's, you ignored carmen's pacing, his deep breaths and clenched eyes, walking straight to the garage.

carmen looked up at the sound of the door, standing quickly. a damning rush of horror, of realization washed over him, pulled him right out of his clouded tantrum.

"w-what- what are you- hey, what-" carmen runs towards the car door, where you're putting teddy's car seat into place, shushing the wailing girl gently.

"-don't fucking touch me." you sneer, teeth bared in primal rage, pure protectiveness.

"baby, wait, wait, ju-just hold on. where're you- hey, don't- where're you goin'?" carmen's frantic, eyes wide, stomach churning.

you shut the car door, moving past him without looking to get to the driver's side. "no, no, no, no, no. don't-baby please, don't. i-i-i'm sorry. i'm sorry!" carmen's stuttering in fear, hands shaking trying to hold the door open, keep you from shutting it.

"let go." you growl, yanking the door. "you're not going to talk to me like that, carmen. i don't care if you're stressed, i don't care. you're not going to come home and talk to me like that because you fucked up. not when i've been at home all day taking care of our- my child."

carmen feels dizzy, mouth filling with spit, sure he's about to throw up.

you slam the door, eyes watery and red and angry, glaring at him before pulling out of the driveway.

carmen's left alone in the garage, knees weak, hands shaking. his ears are ringing, head spinning, sure that he's hallucinating- that this has to be a sick sick dream. floods of realization icy through his veins.

the house is eerily quiet, so still. no teddy, no anchovy, no you.

he isn't sure how long he sits in the garage, the sun sinking in the horizon, but he stays motionless and still. richie shows up eventually, frantic and wide eyed.

"cousin! what the fuck? dinner service started a fuckin' hour ago, and we-" he stops, slowing his stride when he gets closer. carmen's vacant gaze, trembling hands.

"hey, carm, what's goin' on? you-you alright?" richie's voice dropped low and slow, like he used to with mikey. "carmen. hey, what's-"

"-she left." carmen whispered, his eyes wide in horror. "she-she left and she took t-teddy." carmen breaks, a sob choking out of his throat.

"why? why did she-" richie stops, looking at carmen. "carmen, what did you do?"

carmen sobs- no, wails. broken and terrified and horrified. full chest sobs that are more like screams. the realization of what he had done, what he had said, feeling the full weight of the consequences of his actions for the first time.

[moonstruckme]

Hi so sorry I was t clear in my earlier request! Emt!marauders and reader in an established relationship who’s anxious about either being poorly or being injured - perhaps she breaks a bone and it’s the first time she’s done so? So not only is she hurting but she’s nervous?

No worries lovely, thank you for your request!!

cw: broken bone, nothing graphic, I'm not very happy with this but I can't figure out how to fix it so here you go sorry <3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s one of those mind-numbing, paperwork-filled days that makes James feel unproductive and twitchy and makes him forget the fact that no one calling them about severe injuries or death is, in an objective sense, a good thing. He’s moved outside to the ambulance to try and get some sun while he works, and his boyfriends have followed. Sirius is tapping his pen aimlessly on a half-filled out form while Remus is diligently working through his pile, when they’re all gratefully distracted by Remus’ phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

James catches the way his boyfriend’s expression tenses upon answering, and Sirius looks up when his voice turns gentle and soothing. Ironically, Remus’ calmest tone is an alarm bell for them both. 

“No, don’t worry about it, lovely. What’s going on?” 

“Put her on speaker,” Sirius whisper-shouts. 

Remus waves him off with a hand, brows sewing together as he cradles the phone close to his cheek. “Okay.” He starts moving with hurried steps towards the front of the ambulance. James’ stomach hollows out, and he and Sirius hop down and start closing the rear doors. “Okay, where are you now?” 

James steals his chance to ride up front with Remus, forcing Sirius to ride in the back. The other boy shoots him a sharp, half-hearted glare before shutting himself in. 

“Alright,” says Remus, still in that measured tone. “Just take a breath, sweetheart. We’re coming to get you. I’m passing the phone to James so I can drive, okay?” James holds his hand out eagerly. Sirius has all but jammed his face into the window connecting the driver’s compartment to the back. She’s crying, Remus mouths to them both. “Okay. Love you.” 

Remus doesn’t so much release the phone as James snatches it away. “Hi, angel,” he says, squeezing his boyfriend’s fingers in belated apology. “You alright?” 

There’s a shaky breath on the other end of the line, like you’re trying to do as Remus said and steady yourself. James finds that his heart trembles with it. “I’m okay,” you reply tightly. “I, um, I fell off my bike, and I think I’ve really hurt my wrist.” 

Panic laces your words, and James feels like his own blood is moving quicker just at the sound of it. He leans close to the window so Sirius can hear, doing his best to make his own voice easy and cheering. “Aw, that’s shit. But no worries, yeah? We’ll be there soon to help with that. You’re not still in the road, are you?” 

“No, I’m in the grass.” Another big inhale. “I moved my bike out of the way, too.” 

He finds himself nodding encouragingly as if you’ll sense it through the phone. “Good idea.” 

“I’m worried it might be broken.” 

“Your bike or your wrist?” 

“My wrist.” Your voice wobbles. A low pitying sound comes from the back of Sirius’ throat. 

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” James reassures you. “If it is, we’ll deal with it. We see that sort of thing all the time, you know? Just sit tight, we’ll worry about it when we get there.” 

He keeps you on the phone up until they can see you down the street. Sirius hops out of the back while they’re still rolling, causing Remus to sigh and mutter something about accident-happy partners. 

“My poor darling,” Sirius croons, keeping one eye on the arm you’re holding in your lap as he kisses a path down your nose to your lips. “I knew this fucking bike was out to get you.” 

“It’s my fault, I took the turn too fast,” you say. Your eyes move past him as James and Remus start toward you, guilt making its way into your expression. “Sorry for calling you all at work. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Remus tsks. “I already told you it’s fine. And this is exactly the sort of thing you should call our work for.” 

James nods his agreement vehemently. He crouches in front of you, holding out his hands. “Can I have a look?” 

Tentatively, almost warily, you give him your arm. 

“You scraped up your leg pretty badly,” Sirius notes, brushing some gravel away from your knee. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

“Not really, just my hands and my—ah!” You hiss in through your teeth, tears springing to your eyes as James palpates your wrist. He stops. 

“Sorry, angel.” He leans down to kiss your knuckles lightly. “Yeah, I think your distal radius is fractured.” 

Though he’s careful not to move your wrist or touch it any more, you look even closer to tears. 

“What does that mean?” you ask tremulously. 

“Only that there’s some kind of fracture in the big bone here,” Remus explains, running his finger gently over your forearm. “It’s a good sign that there’s nothing poking out. It could be small yet, but we won’t know until we get an x-ray.” 

You nod, looking largely uncomforted. “And so what do we do?” 

“You don’t do anything, gorgeous.” Sirius pecks you on the cheek. “You only need to sit pretty while we get you all cleaned up and in a splint, and then we’ll take you to the hospital to get that x-ray. Sound doable?” 

You hesitate for a handful of seconds. “Yeah,” you say, but your voice is tightening and your face pinching with nerves. James rubs his thumb over the unhurt part of your forearm. You let out a stilted little laugh, blinking hard. “Sorry, I’ve just never broken anything before.” 

“It’s alright,” Remus soothes. “It makes sense to be nervous, but we know how to handle this. You’ll be fine.” 

You nod with more conviction this time. “Okay,” you exhale. 

“That’s it, love. Take a couple more breaths like that.” 

You do. When you’re finished, your expression is more even. “Is it going to hurt?” 

“A little bit, probably,” James says honestly. “But not nearly as bad as when it happened and not for long.” 

You chew your lip, and Sirius smears a kiss across your temple. “We’re gonna take good care of you, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” you say in a small voice. “Could someone maybe hold my hand?” 

All three of them melt, but Remus volunteers before either of the other two can. “Yeah,” he says, scooting closer to you and picking up your good hand. “I can do that, lovely. Squeeze if you need to, alright?” 

Sirius brought the splint down from the ambulance with him, so he and James ready that while you lean your head on Remus’ shoulder and he draws slow patterns into the back of your hand. You’re suddenly calmer than you have been since they got you on the phone. They get the gravel out of your palm before splinting your wrist, and you don’t seem to mind the process so much with one of your boyfriends pressing his lips to your hair and the other two praising you amply after every adjustment. 

In fact, by the time they’ve cleaned all your cuts and Sirius is bandaging your thigh, James thinks you might have found a silver lining to your injuries. 

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[enmie]

*♡∞:｡.｡ Basorexia ｡.｡:∞♡*

➶ bsd's Dazai, Ranpo, Tecchou, and Poe getting perhaps a bit too spoiled

➶ basorexia: the intense desire to kiss 【romance】

➶ cw: gn!reader. suggestive (mild.) cussing (very mild)

𓅪 there will be a pt. 2 soon!

𓅪 (in thirty m :DD) I'm sorry its short.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Osamu Dazai's!

That's a little too much kisses, but he thinks he can take it! Dazai's face lights up a hundred bolts whenever he feels those plump, red lips press against his cheek. Or, whatever place. You sometimes place them on his jaw, on his neck, sometimes on his forehead. You find yourself sneakier on his stomach, directly on his lips. And you're extremely lucky whenever he lets you kiss his hair.

But today he notices you're kissing his bandages. He's just utterly confused, why you're so clingy and intimate and... loving. The contact between the roughed up bandages on his arms, and your oh-so-soft lips, it felt like he really was different. He had you. You were his.

You started by kissing his palm, which didn't surprise him at all, but slowly, you began to trail down. That was just a few minutes ago, he thinks, so how did it get to this? Holding his arm up, you're near his desk, placing gentle kisses on his forearms, slolwy, but surely.

"Well, look at you," Dazai starts. You look up (without halt) just to notice that smirk. You grumbled against his arm. "Just let me..."

"Oh, no, no," He seductively mumbles in a singsong tune. "I think it's my turn, don't you? Hm?"

Ranpo Edogawa's!

He can't help but be so whiny in front of you. Whenever you shower Ranpo with kisses, he passes out (mentally of course! Can't have the greatest detective in the world unconcious, can we?) So he pouts, stomps his feet, giggles, but then cries. Why the fuck is thid grown man crying? You sometimes wonder how a kiss on his forehead can get him so worked up.

Then again, it's so damn cute, so you can't really mind. That pout, his lips that curl down ever so slightly, and then that cute-ish, annoying-ish look in his eyes; you never question why you're so utterly in love.

"Forehead kisses are diiiiffereeeent," Ranpo whines, laying on top of you, controlling how heavy he's weighing down, on the cold, twin-sized bed. And you kiss him on the forehead as he says that.

"No they're not," You disagree. You giggle, noticing how his breathing slowed down to match yours, since his was always so fast-paced. "They're the same as every kiss."

The detective shakes his head like crazy, messing his hair up just for you to tidy it up again. He's always like this, either pouting like a kid or smiling like a complete, big idiot. You adore him so much you can't help but mind his childishness. Like you want to squish his cheeks every chance you get, or put his growing, dark hair into some kindergarten hairstyle.

He loves you. A lot. "Then again, cheek kisses are different, too," He hums against your chest, the low noise vibrating through every bone, every muscle, every nerve in your body.

Ranpo finally decides on something, the cutesy pout replaced unexpectedly by his enthusuastic smile."Every kiss with you is different!"

Suehiro Tecchou's!

The blushing mess he is, it's your fault. Suehiro usually looks stoic, but you know he's just a big baby. Your big baby, thankfully. It's not his fault you keep kissing his chest after a hundred (maybe two hundred) push ups for himself. He doesn't think it's hygienic of you, but oh well, he can take your pretty lips just fine.

He loves having you sat on his lap, letting you kiss every part of his body. And you enjoy it, because well, who wouldn't enjoy those chiseled abs and those soft but hard pecs? You just love your boyfriend's soft personality and muscular body.

"I'm all sweaty though," Suehiro says with a neutral expression, putting his hands on your hips to help you get onto him, although he was protesting against it.

"Even hotter." You comment with a lick of your lips. You kiss his chest, once, twice, thrice, and he breaks. He turns into some blushing mess he was sure nobody but you could see. "Let me shower first," You hum, shaking your head.

You're filled with dirty thoughts the moment you're with him; how could you not when he's practically asking to be loved so tenderly? "I might do something to you if you shower," You say with a suggestive wink, your lips making contact with the space between his pecs.

"You?" He chuckles, a sweet chuckle coming from a deep voice. "You're doing something to me?"

"Yeah, why?" Before he can even shower, he'd be doing something to you.

His calloused hand begins trailing lower and lower, from your waist to your hips, from your thighs to your inner thighs, his large hands only get closer to your core. "You're too confident, baby."

Edgar Allan Poe's!

It's a bit odd when he shrieks as you kiss him. Poe's hair covers his eyes most of the time, and whenever he grows his lustrous locks out, they cover his cheeks, too. Luckily, he's just had a haircut and you start to mess with him in his office to see that blush you love causing.

He's quite sure he was peacefully writing another fiction book, when you randomly entered his room and started getting all over him. He won't complain, he's your boyfriend. He's a good one.

But when you started kissing his hand? He died.

Poe shrieks in horror when you pick up his slender writing hand to press it gently against your lips, the ones that of course only he's allowed to touch. He doesn't hate it—not at all—but he loves it so much he's scared. And the sudden level of his voice startles you even though you almost instantly realize he's blushing. The boy is blushing!

"You like it?" You ask as a little tease. He huffs. "Weirdo."

You kiss his the back of his palm again, he lets out another shriek, shaking his hand like he was attempting desperately to shake the kiss off. So cute, you think. Of course he's overreacting, but that's just how he usually is.

"Y-you wouldn't like it either if I kiss you, huh?!" He yells out panickingly, all red-faced. "You squirm as much as I do!"

"Ye, but you're cuter," You insist. And he panics again, when you kiss his palm, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin as he stifles his voice.

You're ending up somewhere else. That's final.

ⒺⓃⓂⒾⒺᛌⓈ first bsd fanfic | all the people that liked this will be tagged: Taglist: @littleangelowo @mimi-asalways @glitch-ink3 @chuuya-apologist @kouleblanc

update: : @swaggestsillyfailure @noctywockty @icyfirecookie @byzantiumhollow

update: @dunnojustwannahavefun @anastasiamarch-27 @gayfrogswithhats @dazkai @matchboxartist

PART TWO!! | PART THREE!! | PART FOUR!! (coming soon)

[icallhimjoey]

I feel like Joe's the type of guy during a heatwave to complain about the heat but still insist on cuddles. And I just imagine both parties being grumpy from the heat but also from not being able to just cuddle.

lil short one! sticky sweaty cuddles with a lil side of grump! Wordcount: 1.5K

---

That Better?

"Where do you think you're going?" you can barely make out the words Joe's mouth tries to shape. He's pressed up against your chest, his whole cheek stuck to your skin in a way that makes his lips go funny.

It's uncomfortable. Way too hot and sticky. Outside you can see another flash, and hear the sky rumble in the distance. No rain yet, though. Just humidity.

"Joe," you warn when he tightens his grip on you as you try to move away a little. "Please, it's too hot." You use both hands to find his shoulders to create some space in between the two of you.

It's difficult, because you're fatigued with the heat, and Joe is stronger than you.

"The fan's on." Joe argues, though it's dry and flat, no energy to put any heat behind his words. It's already hot enough.

He holds on, quite tightly at that, and you huff a breath into his face as you relax again. You're too weak. The room already feels stifling and heavy without a person stuck to you, but Joe's lying right on top, and you desperately need the fan to hit the areas of your body that he's covering with all of his right now.

But Joe doesn't want to move.

He's grumpy for it too, but he needs the cuddles to get to sleep, no matter how warm and sweaty and gross it feels.

Which, it does.

Everything feels damp.

It's silent for a while, until you can feel a drop of sweat make its way down your scalp, sliding through your hair slowly and then picking up speed when it gets to your neck.

It's disgusting.

"I'm not even moving and I can feel myself sweat." you complain, but Joe just hums. Adds, "Yea, it's sweltering." in agreement. He can feel you sweat too, but knows that it just means that the fan feels nicer for it. He doesn't add that bit of information - fan feels like a sensitive subject now. You had just had a big fight over whether or not to sleep with the floor fan on.

It wasn't exactly a silent one - the fan or the fight.

Joe desperately wishes for the fan to be moved out of the bedroom; it's a big floor fan that sounds like an airplane taking off, he'd always say. But you need it on. You'll take the loud constant whir that will bring you an actual breeze over suffering in a dead silent humid room that feels more like a sauna than anything else.

"Baby, you know I can't sleep with it on. It's too loud."

"Can't sleep with a fan on, but can fall asleep in the middle of The Expendables." you'd sarcastically said, making a face at him. The Expendables was basically a whole film of big loud explosions. He'd insisted on watching it the other day, and then fell asleep about 15 minutes into it.

"You know that's not-" Joe sighed with frustration. "That's hardly the same."

You could feel the sweat sit between your toes, it was that hot.

"Joe, without the fan on, I don't even want to touch my own body! Let alone yours!"

You fought, back and forth until you'd cut it off by going for a cold shower. When you got out, you found Joe in bed with all the lights off and the fan on, and you silently accepted Joe's kind compromise.

When you'd laid down on the bed, Joe had immediately rolled half onto you, and you knew that in return for the fan being on, he wanted to at least be able to fall asleep the way he wanted to. Needed to.

Touching.

All snuggled up.

Breathing your breath, limbs crossing limbs, bare skin pressing into bare skin. Feeling heartbeats and hearing heartbeats, until one of you can't feel their arm anymore from lying on a shoulder weird. Joe needs the comfort of a whole person to make a psychical connection with to feel instantly at ease.

It not his fault that you calm him down so much. That he loves you.

And you love Joe too.

But it's definitely too fucking hot for any of it. You feel too grumpy, and you know Joe isn't in the best mood either.

Joe might feel at ease, but you don't feel at ease at all.

You're still holding out hope that the clouds that had threatened rain all day will actually give way. The heat needs to break already. So far, no luck though. Just some flashes and some rumbling thunder up high in the sky.

You're not a fan.

You don't like thunder storms. There's something so very threatening about them. Every loud crash makes you jump a little, surprising you every single time.

Joe knows.

He remembers the first time he'd been around you during bad weather, and he had watched you from up close for a little while until something inside of him took over.

I, big giant man. You, small little defenseless woman. Must protect.

Cave man behaviour.

Cute when you're after a little babying, but absolutely awful when the heat and the humidity had you in an awful mood. Like right now.

Another flash lights up your bedroom for a split second, and you can hear how the storm's getting a little closer.

"I'm not scared, you know," you comment softly, and Joe just hums again. Acknowledges what you're telling him, but keeps you close for his own comfort. Doesn't seem to care if you're scared or not - just pretends that you are, because he likes that a little better.

He ducks into his shoulders a little more, curls up to you a little more, and you can feel how the side of his face slides against your chest.

Slides.

You try to hold back an audible wince at how much you hate that, and you endure Joe's weight for a little while longer. But then, slowly, the itch under your skin becomes too much and it builds until you feel like you're about to burst.

"I can't," you suddenly sputter, pushing at Joe's shoulders again. "Sorry babe, but I cannot." you say definitively, groaning as you move to sit up. This time, Joe lets you go.

When you see Joe's sad little face, half of you wants to reach out to wrap your whole self around him. But the other half wants you to go sit in the freezer.

Unfortunately for Joe, the latter wins.

"M'sorry, just..." you turn in the bed and find a piece of cold mattress to lie down on, your head near the foot of the bed now, your feet near your pillow. You get the best bit of air from the fan from there too, right in your face, and it feels a little better.

It really does help that you're damp all over.

Makes the air actually cool you down.

You suppose that's what sweat's meant to do in the first place, so it makes sense.

Joe watches you from his spot.

Watches as you starfish on top of the bed in the dark, hair blowing in the breeze, and Joe wants to frown, because this isn't what he wants. But then he sees how the creases on your face slowly disappear, and just witnessing you be a little more comfortable makes his own frown smooth out a bit too.

"That better?" Joe asks, and you're not sure if it's a sarcastic question or not. If saying yes will hurt his feelings or not. You detect a little hidden bite in there though, so you don't answer.

Instead, you sigh a little contently and say, "Come over here."

Joe doesn't need telling twice.

In an instant, his legs have swung around on the bed and he finds a nice much cooler spot next to you.

"Here," you say, and you hold out your hand.

Joe gives it a glance before looking at your face. He knows you've only just showered, but your hair's mostly dry already. He notices it now as it drapes over the edge of the bed, swaying in the wind. You may be sweaty, grumpy, sticky, and uncomfortable, but you're still gorgeous. It's almost annoying how he likes the way the heat makes you look.

"Hold my hand." you say when it takes too long for Joe to grab hold of it.

It's your compromise.

Joe smiles.

Takes it.

It's not as nice, but Joe will take it, fingers intertwining as your palms glue together.

"That better?" he asks again, and this time there's no doubt about his intentions, voice much sweeter and softer, no hidden bite left in there at all.

"Hmm." It's your turn to hum now, agreeing as you add, "Better."

Joe gets to touch you.

You get the fan on.

It's not the best of both worlds - it's still fucking boiling - but it's definitely better than before.

And then, just when you think, maybe you actually could fall asleep like this, you can hear the soft patter of a few raindrops hitting the bedroom window.

Just a few at first, but it quickly picks up into a gentle, rhythmic pattern as the sound grows.

You squeeze Joe's hand, and there's still a slight slick to your palms and fingers, kind of clammy, definitely warm.

But it's kind of nice to be stuck together like this.

Joe squeezes back, and you let a happy sigh escape you.

You can actually fall asleep like this.

"Much better."

---

The Taglisted

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@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[shotmrmiller]

cw: age gap, reader is mid 20s, call off the pitch forks. f!reader, smut:)

dbf!price babyyyy

dbf!price met you on your 18th birthday for the first time, and he thought nothing of you. Just a slip of woman, if he can even call you that.

you are just simon's precious daughter.

and it stayed that way for years. he came over a lot, mostly to get away from his nagging wife and occasionally he'd see you whenever you were home from college.

again, nothing other than polite.

until one day, the guys had come over for some beer and sports. price had walked into the kitchen to get himself another beer when he noticed you on your tip toes trying to get a box of cereal from the very top shelf of the pantry.

he chuckled under his breath as he heard you mutter a string of curses when your fingertips pushed the box closer to the wall and decided to intervene.

his footsteps were silent as he approached you from behind, and easily reached for the cereal, grabbing it with a large hand.

"Oh! Thank you, daddy! I don't know why you insist on-"

you choke on your spit when you turn around and realize that it's not your dad that helped you, but his friend. his captain.

a bright, rosy hue spreads across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"I- oh! oh my god i, listen, jesus, i'm so sorry mr. price i don't- i thought it was my dad, obviously. i'm so sorry god how embarrassing-"

you're babbling but john hears nothing other than the word you so sweetly said on repeat inside of his head.

daddy, daddy, daddydaddydaddy-

"-right, mr. price?"

he's snapped back to reality with your question.

"yeah, love, i'm alright. I was just thinking if i turned off the stove before coming over or not."

thank god for your naïveté because you take him for his word, and ramble about how it happens to the best of us, good thing that stoves are now electric and whatever other nonsense.

he hands you the now-indented box of cereal and swiftly steps away from you.

"i'll tell simon that he's got to be mindful of the short occupants of his house," john playfully teases.

the peal of laughter you let out sends a jolt straight to his stiffening cock.

"i'm not short! it's not my fault all of you guys are just so big!"

oh sweetheart, you have no idea how big he is.

he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from thinking about you and the pussy he undoubtedly knows is just so tight, scorching hot and arousal sweet as honey-

"i'll see ya later, mr. price!"

he blinks rapidly, smiles and watches you walk out of the kitchen and turn the corner.

john grabs himself from outside his trousers, palm shifting his now fully erect, thick length around to hide it as best he can.

damn.

he scratches the side of his bearded face, and pops open the fridge, finally grabbing a beer.

god fucking damn.

later in the evening, once he's sobered up enough, he goes home and he fucks his wife with renewed vigor, until she's a sobbing mess under him, clawing at his broad back with her nails, and her walls spasming around him, drenching him with her slick.

john comes violently, black dots peppering his vision and a guttural groan clawing its way out of his throat, your name on the very tip of his tongue.

he doesn't hold his wife as she falls asleep just as how he left her- naked, body cooling with sweat, cunt full of his spend.

this mutton is not the lamb he wants.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Captain Hook x AFAB!Fairy!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You thought convincing a witch to make you big as a human would soften your edges. Make you feel a little less.

But thats not the case. You still get so mad you cant see straight, you still get so sad you cant stop crying, and you still get so horny nothing else matters.

Warnings: Dub con themes. Fucking of convenience 😅 XD Context?? Nay... Also unedited.

It wasn't your fault that the only person with you when you started feeling this way was Captain Hook! If you had been close to mermaid lagoon, you would've happily engaged with a mermaid and not the cruel, wicked pirate you were most certainly not supposed to fraternise with. All the fairies were loyal to Peter, you all loved Peter dearly, and therefor all the fairies hated mean old Hook.

But when you got this way trying to sneak away from the pirates before they saw you, accidentally rubbing against a tree you were attempting to slip past, and let out that desperate, too-loud moan... and he heard you... and sent his men away so he could help the odd, human-sized fairy... you didn't have a choice! You had to use the cruel pirate Captain's convenient dick.

He only had to flash a beautiful wicked smirk at you, those burning eyes that looked like blood whenever he killed simmering right through you, before your shed your thin dress and bowled him over and onto the forest floor with your eagerness to release his cock from his belt and his pants and sit on it. You fumble with the belt, unfamiliar with the article, and you accidentally leave scratch marks with your sharp nails over his thighs as you pull down his trousers, but when you finally settle down onto his cock, taking him deeply inside your throbbing, drooling pussy you feel immediate relief. If only a little bit; not nearly enough to stop.

The Captain sighs, too, experiencing probably his first warm cunt since he was stranded at Neverland. A feeling you're sure the rotten old bastard coveted desperately all these years, seeing as how eager he was to be left alone with an insatiably horny fairy. You could see it when you closed your eyes and began to ride him; Him alone in his ships study pumping his cold and lonely cock with his eyes closed imagining if only there was a pretty girl in all of Neverland to sink into. The thought would bring you unfiltered joy, Captain Hook pathetic and needy, if you weren't already busy with pure, filthy lust.

The pretty sounds of ringing slip past your lips, the only language you know, as you fuck yourself on his thick cock. The sound like if someone took a bell and shook it like crazy filling up the clearing, along with the Captain's heavy breathing under you. He raises his torso and uses his good hand to hold himself up with his fingernails embedded in the earth under him while the arm with that dreadful hook wraps around your waist; holding you close and calling you magnificent in a breathless whisper.

He cum's a few times while you fuck him, getting hard again every time when you don't stop and don't let him up, instead keeping him in your vice-grip, drawing him dry. Its your one solace. He wanted to take advantage of your predicament; well he definitely got that.

When you finally cum your wings flutter extatically behind you, sending a cold gust of wind into the forest and blowing leaves up off the ground. You leave your shimmery grease all over the Captain's dick, thighs, and pelvis. With a flap of your wings you raise off of him, turn on him like he means nothing, and slip your dress back on over your body.

You're about to leave him in that clearing, sure that he hasn't moved, when you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist and a body press tight to your back. A gasp rips from your throat, and you freeze- still.

You can feel warm breath on your neck when he mutters quietly to you; My dear, I don't know how you got to be this size. Cruel, fickle little creature... but don't think you're getting away.

We could be quite useful, to each other.

[maybe-moonchild]

CHAPTER 1

summary: In which a spilt drink leads to a very awkward reunion and a drunken piece of pizza. WC: 6.3k ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

The surface of the bar is tacky under your forearms from spilled beer and mixed drinks. You lean up against the surface as others bump into your back, half listening to Aaron's non-stop rambling about the job his uncle set him up at. His company was fine- one of Flash's basketball buddies from high school remembered for being obnoxious in your junior english class. You're barely paying attention and more preoccupied with trying to get the bartender's attention. At least then you would be able to escape the sweaty bodies pressed against your back.

Lazy Dog Saloon, a divey place nestled in Hell's Kitchen, had become Midtown high. Most of the class of 2014 had graduated from their prospective 4 year undergrad programs last week. Some returned to New York for a mini vacation before they began the next chapter in their lives while some had never left at all.

You were part of the second group.

NYU seemed like a safe choice at the time your college applications were due. The program you wanted was there and you knew that it was close enough to Queens that you felt like you'd gotten away, but not far enough that you felt like you were on the other side of the country.

Aaron continues to drone on, the sound of his voice fading with the sound of the eighties song playing over the speakers. Your shoulders sag in relief when the bartender sits down your vodka soda in front of you, sticking a dried out lime on the rim. He takes the $8 in cash you hold out to him and mumble out a thanks but he is already moving to the next person. Not that you care. You had your prize in hand and could finally return to your friends drunkenly lounging in their booth.

That was until Aarons animated hand gestures sent your drink out of your hand down the front of the shirt of the guy beside you.

"Fuck! I am so sorry," you rush out, half turning to reach over Aaron and grab a few flimsy paper napkins. You also shoot Aaron the dirtiest look you can muster at which he grimaces. "I feel horrible- god. I am so-"

Had there not been a steady stream of booze fluttering through your veins, you could play it a lot cooler than you do. Thankfully, Peter Parker isn’t able to play it much cooler either. The second your eyes met his big brown ones, they manage to somehow get bigger, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline before his lips thinned in distaste.

“... sorry…” The word comes out as a breath while his presence seems to be the only thing that you can be aware of. It’s like the sight of him is screaming inside your head.

Peter’s heart throws itself for a loop before dropping down into his stomach. He knows that voice all too well and he hates how much he still yearns to hear it again.

We both seemed to collect ourselves at the same time; he clears his throat while you look down at the spot on his shirt where the gray fabric is dark. With a shake of his head, he waives away your apology with his hand. “Don't- it’s fine, it’s fine.” He tries to mutter the words with a smile that barely classifies as anything more than a wince. “I don’t even like this shirt anyway.”

You can’t seem to get yourself to move. Not even when he gently slips the napkins out of your clenched fists so he can try and clean himself up. That, in turn, just makes you feel worse, but then again, maybe he just doesn’t want you to touch him.

Not after our six years of friendship fizzled out like a burning candle that finally reached the end of its wick.

“Nice one,” Aaron chuckles near your ear, his elbow nudging your arm teasingly. This was not the time for jokes. Not when it felt like I was staring at a ghost. The ghost of someone very much alive. Giving the red head a shove and a scowl, you hiss at him under your breath to shut up before turning back to Peter.

“I am so sorry. Seriously. This was all my fault. I… can I help?” You're clearly apologetic. It’s clear from the concern in your voice and the embarrassed look on your face.

Peter’s eyes find the ceiling so quickly that you can’t tell if the pink on his face is real or just a hallucination from the tequila shot Flash had forced on you earlier. You could’ve sworn you’d forgotten what he sounded like over the past four years. After hearing it again, your memories come flooding back all at once. Except this isn’t a memory. This is real. Peter Parker is standing right there as he wipes at his shirt. Gone is the gangly kid with perpetual untamable hair and skinned elbows from nose diving off his skateboard and in his place is someone he gracefully grew into.

“Seriously. It’s fine. It was an accident.” His hand waves awkwardly again as he drops the napkins into the trash. The smile he gives you is strained and brief but he tries anyway so he can drop the conversation. “No, it’s really alright. I think those did the trick. This shirt has gone through worse.”

You are sure you look as pathetic as you feel. Eyes wide and brow furrowed enough that the crease between them could’ve been a damn canyon. Once upon a time, you knew him better than you knew yourself. Once upon a time, the two of you could have stayed quiet for hours and still known exactly what the other was thinking.

Now? At least you knew that him saying it was fine was a load of garbage.

“Are you sure? I can ask the bartender for a towel? Or-”

He knows that look. It was the same damn look you always used to give him when you felt really bad about something. It would settle on your face when you were going to do any stupid thing you could to try and fix it.

“I’m sure,” he interjects in the hopes that you believe him- or at least pretend to. That you will just let it go, return back to Katie and Flash so you can tell them you dumped your drink on him. The three of you could laugh it up like you did in high school.

“It’s fine. I promise. Just…” he takes a deep breath and glances down at his wet shirt before finally glancing up at your face. He tries to think of something to say. At that moment, the bartender decides to drop the beer he had ordered earlier onto the counter. Peter mutters a thanks, grabbing it in one hand while digging for cash that's shoved in his front pocket to exchange it.

Before you can get another word out, he sighs, “Really. It’s fine. I can deal with it.” Peter's words are short and almost sharp. It was nothing different than how things had been between the two of you for the past eight years.

You open your mouth to protest but he is already slipping through the crowd. Drunk patrons fill the empty space within seconds so they can raise their blood alcohol content. Aaron tries to laugh it off, clapping you on the shoulder while you’re too busy staring at the back of Peter’s head disappearing around the corner.

There are two roads or whatever bullshit.

You blame it on the booze. The white claw you had sipped when you and Katie had gotten ready was the reason that you’d shrugged off Aarons hand. The extremely potent and barely drinkable margarita Flash made you at the pregame was the reason you started to slip through the crowd after him. The reason you burst through the doors of the boys bathroom without a second thought was- okay, so maybe it was also just who you were.

“Please. Let me do something to fix this,” you urge, ignoring the strange look from the man slipping around you to exit the bathroom. You also ignore the shocked look Peter gives your reflection of the dirty mirror in front of him.

“Nuh uh. No.” He practically gasps, spinning around and yanking out paper towels to hurriedly dry his hands. He has to get you out of here before you get yourself thrown out of the freaking bar.

You shoot him a look. You will stay in this bathroom all night if that was what it took… to fix… his shirt.

“Grow up Parker, it’s a boy’s bathroom. There are stalls. I’m not even crawling under one!” Your hands move as you speak while his hands find your shoulders. His touch is gentle but his face is panicked. You don’t stop him from spinning you around, guiding you out the door even when you turn your head back so you can face him.

“Look. I just want to make sure I didn’t ruin your night because I feel like a total asshole. It was an accident and now I feel your night is ruined because you're all damp and smelling like vodka.” Peter focuses on maneuvering you through the crowd. He doesn’t have the heart (or the guts) to admit that his shirt being soaked with vodka is the least of his concerns. It is *how* it got soaked in the first place. That was the real issue.

No. The real issue was you. Your presence. The fact he had to touch you right now as he manages to avoid letting anyone collide with you since you are too focused on rambling.

“Okay, you didn’t ruin my night.” The words are practically a groan of exasperation in the hopes you will just drop this. That you will just return to your cool friends and you could all go and laugh at how uncool he is.

“No?” You ask flatly, your eyebrow rising in skepticism as you try to twist around to look at him better over your shoulder. He is more concerned with keeping any drunk people from slamming into me or vice versa. “Because I feel like I did. I feel like I definitely ruined your night and you’re just telling me that I didn’t, just so I drop it and I don't let it eat away at my brain for the rest of my life.”

Because it will. I will certainly lose sleep over it.

Peter can feel his heart race as he listens to you. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming that you’d ruined his life, not his night.

”Just-“ he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he guides you around another group of drunks dancing against the wall. Never has he been more thankful for the fabric of your dress to keep his skin from yours. Even with the buffer, he feels like he is burning alive. He wishes he didn’t care that you were upset at the prospect of him being upset.

Afterall, you probably haven’t spared him a second though since high school graduation.

Not in the way he has thought about you.

Even though it’s mid-May, the nights lack the warmth that the days hold. The cool air feels good on your flushed cheeks. The alley is quiet, tucked between the bar and a closed up nail salon seated next door and the space is filled with the muffled hum of liquor filled banter.

You manage to twist around and plant yourself in front of him. He drops his hold on you but meets your wide and earnest eyes.

“Peter, all I’m saying is that I want to make it better. Yeah, I know,” you throw up your hands, letting their movements animate your words. “Yes, I’m aware that vodka sodas are only moderately pungent. And -yes. It wasn’t even that much- but still! I feel bad. Really bad. There has to be something I can do to make it right.”

Peter can feel his heart picking up again, his brain desperately trying to comprehend that after all these years - after *six years*, you were in front of him, telling him that you feel bad?

He can’t help but shake his head before quickly interjecting. “You don’t-” with a huff, he presses his palms against his face, like it will give him a moment to try and think clearly. They move up to his hair, shoving it off his forehead as he finally forces himself to actually look down at you. His voice is low and tired. “You don’t have to do anything about it. I promise. It was an accident, alright? Besides, I don’t even like that shirt that much.”

That’s a lie. It is his favorite shirt.

No one says anything for a long moment. You’re too busy studying his face for what is actually going on inside his head. He is too busy trying to force himself not to look away. Too many things hang in the foot of space between your bodies. You either can’t find, or can’t find the courage to pluck something out of the air and say something of substance.

Something that matters.

So your face softens and you opt for the cowards approach.

“You okay?”

A muscle in his jaw tenses which makes his expression look more grim. “I’m fine,” he grumbles, looking away to stare at a broken bottle, not wanting to hold your gaze anymore. He’d spent the past eight years pretending that the you-sized hole in his life had been filled with things like Spider-Man, The Bugle and his Bio-Physics degree he’d obtained last week. But now that you’re standing right here, it felt like it was somehow bigger.

Just like that, you realize that, even if he had been the one to guide the two of you out here, away from prying eyes and drunk chatter, it was your doing. You might well have been the one to drag him out the door by his hair. Your face falls when you realize he likely did it because he doesn’t think you’d want to be seen talking to him in public.

You frown at the floor and wrap your arms around yourself like you’re just trying to keep out the cool air.

“Sorry,” you murmur. It’s the best thing you can think to say. Peter looks at you, peeking up and taking notice of the little movements and gestures you make to try and smooth over the awkwardness. It reminds him of high school. Back in the middle of freshman year when you started on the edge of the circle of cheerleaders, working up the courage to belong before you eventually found yourself in the center senior year.

“It’s fine,” he says halfheartedly. In reality, it’s not fine, far from it, but… His hands curl and uncurl into fists at his side, trying to suppress the urge to reach for you.

“No, it's not.”

You’re not talking about the spilled drink anymore. You’re not even talking about the dissipation of your friendship at the start of high school. In some way, it all comes down to high school graduation four years ago.

There's a clarity to the loud sounds inside the bar as someone slips out the back door, too preoccupied with trying to light a cigarette as they head towards the street. When the door shuts again, it feels even quieter out here. Peter and you don’t say anything as they pass by and out of sight.

But neither of you return inside either.

“I shouldn’t have done that. That was…” you trail off, eyes finding the sky under pinched brows as you think. “Invasive? Presumptuous? Meddlesome?” A strained laugh falls from your mouth and cuts through the quiet. “Sorry. Vodka seriously inhibits my memory of vocabulary words.”

You don’t expect him to laugh. So when he lets out a snort and shakes his head, you find the courage to actually look at him from the corner of your eye. He’s not smiling but the little quirk of his lip might as well be a shit eating grin with how relieved it makes you feel.

“You’re drunk.” It is neither a question or statement, or both. You can't really tell.

Your nose scrunches up in thought before you settle on, “I would go with tipsy.” The toe of your shoe scuffs against the pavement and he shoves his hands in his front pockets. “I’m not sure how that’s legally determined or if there even is a way to legally determine that but…yeah. Sure. Let's go with tipsy.”

“You’re wasted,” he snorts again, only this time it sounds even more like a laugh than before.

Your mouth drops in mock offense, eyes pulling back towards his own. Something on his face catches in the light and he looks like he could almost glow in the dark but he’s forcing it down.

“Drunk is a strong word. More like… very tipsy.”

“I think we can go with sloshed instead.” Peter raises an eyebrow, his mouth curling upwards with amusement.

The roll of your eyes is dramatic and playful. Before you get the chance to shoot back, a vibrating and painful sound of an alarm from your purse interrupts you. He almost wonders if it’s a phone call, but when you retrieve it, press the screen and check the time, it’s almost relieving. Not that it didn’t interrupt the moment anyway.

“Shit,” you frown before sticking your phone back. “I really gotta get out of here. I told myself I’d be home by 1:30 since I’m meeting my parent’s for brunch.”

You’re leaving? It’s the first thought that crosses his mind and it has him on edge. For the first time in years, the two of you are alone together. Just the two of you, hidden away in an alley and having an actual conversation.

And it’s already over.

“You’re taking the train back now,” he asks with slight concern. His fingers fall from his hair so he can rub at his forehead. You were a New Yorker. Everyone took the subway. You were just a New Yorker that was determined to take the subway alone at 1 am on a Saturday while drunk in a short dress.

A skeptical smile tugs at your mouth. His concern isn’t shocking. He’d always been like that. Cautious and worried about the safety of others. It was why he always got his ass kicked in high school.

It just wasn’t something you experienced in a long time.

“Umm… Yeah?” Shrugging, you retrieve your phone from your purse to shoot off a text to Katie and Flash that you’re heading home. Peter opens his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you could handle yourself. The last thing he needed was to piss you off in this one moment of a truce.

“My apartment’s not that far anyway,” you continue as a little thumbs up appears by your text in the group chat. The phone returns to your bag amongst your wallet and lip gloss. He is already looking at you when you lift your head up to look at him.

For a moment, he kind of looks like he is 11 years old again. Like you half expect him to smile and reveal his canine tooth is still growing in. That he’ll give you the same grin through the glass of your bedroom window when the two of you were long supposed to be asleep. How he would invite you to crawl out and to accompany him to the subway because he liked it when you watched him try and skateboard in an empty train. At first, you would always hiss out ‘no’s’ which would only make him whine your name from his spot on the windowsill. Eventually, you’d relent because you always did. Then you would spend breakfast with your parents exhausted and biting down on a smile from sitting on the secret events from the night before.

“Wait, you’re taking the subway alone?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing even more than they already were before shooting upwards. He steps closer but doesn’t actually invade your space.

Alone, intoxicated, and all the way home… in a short dress…

Your own eyebrows raise in challenge. Even if you try not to look defensive, you can't help the way your arms fold over your chest and you settle back on your hip. You’ve lived in New York as long as he has, which is your entire life.

You could easily take the subway alone. It was something you’d done a million times and you were sure he had done it as much too.

A little bit of alcohol wasn’t enough to stop you and force you to waste money on a cab.

“Yeah…”

“Okay,” he sighs and you relax, both of your shoulders sagging in relief for different reasons. “I’m making sure you get home.” The words slip out and he doesn’t even think to hold them back.

You open your mouth to argue, but he continues speaking, his hands raising in surrender. “I’m sure you do it all the time but, I mean… I just…you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk. Very tipsy,” you mutter under your breath but there's no hint of actually putting up a fight. Considering your options, you look up towards the night sky like you’ll find some sort of argument hidden up amongst the stars. There are no stars. Just heavy looking clouds that hang above Manhattan with the umpteenth threat of rain this week. You don’t find one. Making a face, you know he has a point.

Odds were, you would probably be fine walking the few blocks to the subway and taking it a couple of stops towards your apartment. There was always that chance that you wouldn’t be.

The problem was that your apartment was out of the way. How did you know that? Peter lived with Ned. Ned Leeds, the same Ned Leeds that had been following Katie around from the age of five until now like a love sick puppy that rambled horribly in her presence about every detail of his life. So yes, the fact he and Peter were roommates had come up plenty of times when you and your current roommate bumped into Ned. Just like he had, in excruciating detail, explained exactly where he lived in case Katie ever happened to be in the area.

“You’re just going to tag along all the way to East village… at one in the morning… and then… trek all the way back to your place?” You shake your head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.”

The prospect of your safety overrides any arguments he could possibly make.

If he stays here and something happens to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

A guilty expression flashes in his eyes at the thought, that little *what if.* It had been replaying in his head since he got bit by that spider when he was sixteen. How the thought of where you were and what you were doing flashed through his mind anytime there was a large-scale disaster threatening New York. There were a few times it got so bad, he’d had to swing by your apartment- not in a stalker way! Just so he could know you were fine.

Besides, he only knew because your mom told Aunt May, who then mentioned it to him.

When you don’t say anything, he nods towards the mouth of the alley. “Come on.” He’s already walking towards the street, spinning on his heels and walking backwards. “It’s fine. I’ll take a cab home or something quicker than the subway.”

Something quicker than the subway and isn’t a cab? All you can do is snort as you scramble to catch up beside him. Now you just feel worse as you step onto the sidewalk. Not only does he probably resent you for the end of our friendship eight years ago and the… incident four years ago on the night of graduation, now he has to go out of his way so I don’t get murdered walking home.

“Really Pete,” you urge. The nickname falls from your lips like second nature. “It’s okay. I’m good.”

He shakes his head and turns to raise an eyebrow at your statement. You’re not good. Even if you're not stumbling black out drunk, the pink flush on your cheeks and the wide eyes are dead giveaways of your impairment. As much as he wants to hold your hand, to throw an arm over your shoulders like when the both of you were kids, he doesn’t. But he does let his hand hover behind the small of your back as you manage to find the same pace.

“I’d rather not be worried the rest of the weekend. Think of it as satiating my restless mind,” he jokes, giving you a playful look.

It’s much quieter out here and there is space to take a breath. There’s still people mulling around as they make their way home or to the next stop of their Saturday night. No one pays the two of you much attention as your pace slows to a more leisurely one.

“First of all, not drunk. Very tipsy,” you huff. “And second of all…” Peter stretches his arms behind his head while you try to think of a good point aside from the fact that you feel bad.

For a lot of things.

“You’ll be walking alone too at three in the morning!”

“And I can handle that. I’m a big boy, remember?”

There it is. That stupid lopsided grin he’d always shoot you anytime he knew he was wearing you down. When he knew you had already given in but were hoping he would drop it before you caved. You make a face that screams ‘spare me’ and scoff. The dirty look quickly threatens to be a smile and he knows you’re all in now.

“We’ll take the train, I’ll walk you home. We can even grab a slice of pizza. My treat. For old times sake?” With a shake of your head, the sigh you make is answer enough. Your answer is a yes. Just like it always was.

Okay, and maybe it's more than fine and doesn’t feel like that much of a chore.

He takes the opportunity to grab your hand so he can drag you along. The action is like muscle memory and he doesn’t realize he is doing it until you falter. You note that his hands are rougher but that makes sense considering he’s 23 years old and no longer a 14 year old kid. It’s not like you have to admit out loud that you like it. That you’d missed it. So before he can really realize what he’s doing, you commit to it.

“Only if we can take it on the road,” you say pointedly with a look to match. “I meant what I said earlier. I really need to get home so I don’t oversleep and miss brunch. My parent’s will kill me.”

Giving you a tug forward, he snorts, “Then by all means. Let's go.”

The foot traffic around is nothing like a work week morning. No hustling of business men in suits or bustling women in sharp blazers clicking down the sidewalk. The night holds its own excitement now that the weather is survivable without an actual coat and gloves. Summer is approaching and it seems to stir people out of their homes and out later than usual.

Aside from the copious amounts of rain plaguing the past week.

It was nice. Your hands are clasped together so you can keep up and he can make sure he doesn't lose you. At least that’s what the both of you tell yourselves as you settle into the familiar warmth of each other's palms and the sense of comfort they still bring after eight years.

The last time you two had touched was four years ago.

Back when his hands had found themselves tangled in your hair so he could tilt your head back further and-

“How about my treat,” you offer, leaning your head forward to look at the side of his face since he’s a step ahead of you. “Because I’m the one ruining your night.”

Peter just shakes his head and shrugs in hopes to dissolve some of your concern. “Don’t worry about it. My night isn’t ruined. You’re worth it.”

Those words make you stumble, tripping over your own feet like the world was just thrown out of orbit and he doesn’t seem to notice. It’s the last thing you expect him to say. For a moment, you wonder if maybe you were so drunk that you were hallucinating.

But no. He said it.

Your silence makes him squeeze his eyes shut and hold in a curse. It was a stupid thing to say after eight years of distance. Right after grabbing your freaking hand like things were all fine and dandy between you. If he could take it back, he would. Instead, he manages to remain looking unbothered so you wont realize that even just your silence was enough to feel like a punch to the gut.

“As long as you’re sure,” you chuckle lamely, looking down to smooth your dress as you reel in your emotions and stand a little straighter; make your movements as sure as yourself as you can pretend to be. Because the truth is, walking with him, having him tug you along and being in his presence is enough to make you sure of absolutely nothing.

Not when you thought he would still hate you for making more friends at the start of high school. Back when you joined cheerleading on a whim and your classmates started to actually see you. Your classmates actually waved at you when you walked through the halls. They would sit by you in class and turn in their seats so you were included in the conversation. Friday nights were spent at football games before the whispers of an after party in the quarterbacks basement were no longer whispers and became actual invitations.

When you didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe Peter Parker like you had as a child. It wasn’t like you had woken up one day and gotten sick of him. You just slowly realized that maybe you could have more than just one person at your side.

“I am so sure,” he reassures, dropping your hold and slowing to a stop in front of a late night pizza shop. “I’m pretty sure I owe you money for something I broke when we were in elementary school. So yeah, I’m sure.” This time when he smiles bashfully back at you, you mirror him. Somehow that makes some of the tenseness traveling between your connected arms start to resolve.

“I am so sure,” he reassures, dropping your hold and slowing to a stop in front of a late night pizza shop. “I’m pretty sure I owe you money for something I broke when we were in elementary school. So yeah, I’m sure.” This time when he smiles bashfully back at you, you mirror him. Somehow that makes some of the tenseness traveling between your connected arms start to resolve.

Peter has spent the last eight years wondering what he did wrong.

Did you just get bored? Were the stories he was telling you just not enough? Did you grow tired of him dragging you into trouble? Was the feel of being seen by the rest of the world more gratifying than his eyes alone?

So many questions without answers.

For eight years they had plagued his mind, kept him up at night and eating at the back of his brain during the day.

The two of you chat in line which is a solid eight drunk people deep. Drunk conversation and the sound of the workers drowns out how easy it is to fall back into joking around. There are stalls in the conversation where neither of you have an immediate response but the recovery is quick enough that there's no suffocating awkward silence.

And it is then that you realize that being in his presence makes you miss him more than you had during the eight years of radio silence. From the way he rocks back and forth on his feet while making sure you order your slice first, you miss him. When you try to pay, he smoothly snatches your wallet out of your hands, not even missing a beat in his conversation with the teenager at the register as he hands him cash.

Once you both receive pizza slices bigger than your heads, grease seeping through the paper plates as you take the long way to the subway entrance.

You happily take a big bite, speaking around a mouthful of dough, cheese, and tomato. “I mean it. You were always horrible at saving money when we were kids.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes which just makes it harder to chew around the smile straining your lips. There’s really no rush as you walk side by side without paying attention to where you're going. Eventually an entrance to the subway will appear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you being so, very wrong.” Once he makes sure that there is not a drop of grease on his free hand, he playfully gives your head a shove. You make a sound of protest that quickly turns to one of amusement while trying to smooth your hair.

“I am not and you know it,” you shoot back and he responds with a dramatic waive of his hand. “You would always want ice cream or a comic book. Then you’d try and give me puppy dog eyes and promise you’d pay me back. I always gave in”

And he always paid you back. Eventually. Sometimes all at once or by leaving a crumpled up five in your backpack or taping a ten dollar bill to your window.

“I did not try puppy dog eyes,” he protests with his mouth full, chewing in a hurry so he can swallow. “Plus, I was the one funding all of the trouble we got into. And I was cute. Cut me some slack.”

Never had he been so glad to bail on a night of patrol so Ned could drag him to some dinghy bar just to watch Ned botch attempt number five million and six to woo Katie into falling in love with him.

Once we are finished, you dust the crumbs and grease from your fingertips and toss the plate into the trash. He’s been done for a while and you don't hesitate to grab his own plate and send it following mine into the dumpster.

“That’s because I was always better at saving money. If I hadn’t been, how was I supposed to treat you to snacks?”

Peter snickers, “You were definitely not better at saving your money than me.”

“Was too-”

“Nuh uh,” he cuts you off with a sarcastically smug expression. “Remember when you blew all your lunch money on those gum ball machines. The ones with the little rubber pencil toppers inside? You skipped lunch for over a week in hopes of getting that crab one.”

When he looks over at you and sees how your lips curl in an amused smile as you stare ahead, he bites down on his grin but it still feels white hot on his face.

Wherever you two have meandered to is much quieter. Cars are not passing down the road and most people still out at this hour are sticking to the well lit streets with more foot traffic.

“Oh my god. My mom was so mad at me when she found out.” You throw your head back to laugh at the memory. It feels good. It feels right to be here right now. “She found out because you told May that my mom was too busy that week to make me lunch so she’d put an extra sandwich in your lunch box for you to give me.”

Peter opens his mouth to speak but cuts himself off with a look of concentration.

Something is off.

His footsteps slow, yours following when a big burly man in a black fitted shirt steps into your path from the entrance of a long closed restaurant. It wasn’t just a passerby. You can tell from the way his attention is fixated on Peter. The guy's narrowed eyes move to size you up.

Not that you were a threat.

Another man steps out behind you, a third crossing the street and approaching. Muggers. That’s your first thought. It wasn’t terribly uncommon in a city like this, especially given the time and day. You quickly figure out this isn’t a chance of opportunity when the man standing a few feet in front of you speaks.

“Peter Parker?” He tilts his head, features dark from the lack of street lamps but there was no mistaking the glint in his eye. That was enough for Peter to step closer to you. He keeps you half behind him, an arm going out to keep his body between yours and theirs. There was more than one threat to worry about. The other two approach and settle in their own spots so they can circle you against the wall. Peter tries to have his head turned enough to keep the other two men in his peripheral vision.

You tell yourself to stay calm, that everything is going to be fine.

That voice in your head has to scream that at you when you see the flash of the gun dangling in the guy's hand.

[evie-sturns]

Truth or Dare - Matt Sturniolo

-----------------------°°••....••°°------------------------

summary: an innocent game of truth or dare results in you losing your virginity to matt.

warnings: NSFW, swearing.

--------------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

"mattt.." i groan as my head rests on his lap. "you alright baby?" matt says quietly as he puts down his phone.

me and matt have been together for about 2 months, but we've never done anything sexually, ive never done anything sexually. im a total virgin and matt doesnt know.

"we should do something" i say sitting up on the couch and readjusting my ponytail. "like what?" matt says softly as he stands up "likee... truth or dare?" i say giggling and matt smiles at me "what are we, in 6th grade" matt says with a small laugh.

i stand up and drag matt to the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. matt sits down on the bed and i instantly crawl onto his lap, straddling him. "okay hmf, truth or dare?" i ask smiling and matt grins at me "truth? i dont know." he replies awkwardly "have you ever done anything illegal?" i say smirking and he doesn't reply. "matt..." i say dragging out the 'a' trying to hold back another laugh.

after a few rounds, matt starts to shift uncomfortably under me. i reposition myself on his lap and he groans "are you okay? am i too heavy sorry.." i say awkwardly "no- no..you just might need to get off" matt mumbles as i see his cheeks flush.

i realise whats happening, matts bulge is poking my ass. as soon i realise i jump off him and cover my face out of embarrassment. my grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my eyes. my cheeks go a deep red and he smiles at me, i see his eyes flick down to my lips and i smash my lips into his. he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap. he breaks for a second and grabs the hem of my shirt. "ca-can i?" matt asks and i dont fully understand what he means, but i agree to it. he pulls my shirt over my head, revealing my pink lacy bra. my eyes widen but i ignore it.

is this really happening? am i even ready? am i about to loose my virginity?

i go along with it, ill be fine. he unclasps my bra and his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. he is the first man to ever see my chest. he flips us over so im on my back, he looks down at me and puls down my shorts slowly, revealing my matching panties. "fuck your so perfect." matt grumbles. hes fully clothed but im only wearing my panties, its somewhat humiliating. he quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his dick springs out onto his stomach, its big. jesus christ its big.

he pulls my panties off and rubs his tip against my clit. he teases my entrance and my breathing becomes more frantic, why am i so scared? i feel a few tears roll down my cheek and matt gasps looking at me, insantly pulling away from me and yanking up his sweatpants. "hey, hey, are you okay?" he says shakily grabbing my cheek "sorry." i sniffle as i wipe my eyes. matt sits down on the bed and i sit up, he maintains a distance "dont cry, im so sorry can you talk to me please, whats going on sweetheart" he says gently and fidgets with his rings. i shuffle over and sit on his lap. his breath hitches in his throat as my naked body leans against him, but he plays it off as a cough. "just promise you wont judge me okay?" i say breaking the silence and he stambles "i would never judge you sweetheart." he says soothingly

"i know i havent told you but im a.. uh.. virgin." i whisper out and he nods understandingly "but i thought i was ready.. its not your fault i- i just uh. when you took your pants off it was.." i say quietly as i wipe my eyes "its big.. your dick is really big." i say with an embarrassed giggle. he just smiles at me "im sorry for taking it fast, i would've gone slow if i knew, your just so pretty i assumed youd done it." he says comforting me and rubbing my thighs "i wanna do it still though." i say quietly and he nods "o-okay!!" he says trying to hold back his excitement "do you wanna ask me questions before we start" he asks "well i did wanna know uhm, how many people have you fucked." i say softly "3 people, yeah uh.. three." he says i let out a sigh of relief "so your good at it??" i reply instantly and matt laughs rubbing his eyes "i guess?" he says embarrased and i get off his lap.

"can you talk me through it?" i ask laying back on the bed "yeah, okay sure!" he says positioning himself between my legs "im gonna have to stretch you out a little first okay? i dont want it to hurt." he says and i nod "just my middle finger, have you ever done this to yourself?" i shake my head "no.." and he just nods "okay thats fine!" he says "just relax okay." he says pushing his long middle finger all the way into me "your doing so good." he growls quietly thrusting it slowly in and out. "i'm gonna add another finger, and your gonna take it really well." he says pushing another finger into me.

this is a really new sensation, but it feels really good. it kind of burns though.

after a few minutes of him spreading his fingers apart inside of me he pulls both of his fingers out and i whine "baby your gonna get my cock, be patient." he says sternly and i nod quickly. he positions his tip at my entrance and i moan softly "such pretty noises." he mumbles as he pushes his tip just inside of me and pulls it back out, then pushes it in again. "so fucking tight oh my god." he whimpers as he pushes slightly more into me "im just gonna give you half okay?" he says sliding further into me and i let out a long moan. "its okay baby, hold my hand" he says reaching his hand out and gripping my sweaty palm.

"your only taking half, do you think you can take the rest of it?" he whispers in my ear "yeah- yes matt.." i say nervously and he slides all the way in, his tip kissing my cervix "so good for me baby." he says resting inside of me "so so perfect." he groans as he slides all the way out to his tip, then pushes all the way inside me again. "fuck.." he whimpers as he starts to thrust in and out faster "matt oh my god." i moan as he presses on my lower stomach with his free hand, so he can feel how deep he is inside of me. the stomach bulge is clear and its driving matt crazy. "your clenching baby, cum for me." he whispers "i- i dont know how to!!" i say loudly and he shushes me "yes you do, i know you can." he stays calm and i let out a loud moan before orgasming all over his length "goodd... fuck oh my fuck.. so good baby so so perfect." he whispers words of affirmation in my ears before abrubtly pulling out and cumming all over my tits "fuck fuck fuck.." he says quickly as he strokes his dick a few final times before collapsing next to me and grabbing my waist to pull me into a tight hug on the bed. "you did so well. so so well." he says in between heavy pants as my legs just shake.

"your legs are shaking, you sure your okay?"

"i-i just..." i can barely string together a sentence as my hole aches.

-------------------------°°••....••°°------------------

yall BETTER send me requests in my inbox PLEASE!!

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 16)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (16)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Lucy was paying when she heard the yelling. Usually, she wouldn’t think much of it, but in that moment, her body reacted instinctively as her head whipped around. She couldn’t see outside but at the distinctive smashing of glass, she ran before she knew she was. Her knee complained as she negotiated the corner of the restaurant to the front door at pace, and the cold night hit her hard, but not harder than the sight of her girlfriend, limp in the front seat of her car, covered in glass and… blood. Lucy was shoved backwards as three girls took off up the street, but Lucy couldn’t give a fuck, she was at YFN’s door in a heartbeat, grabbing at the handle. The door was locked, fuck. She was starting to panic out of pure fear for her little Australian splattered in blood, tears welling in her eyes. She reached her hand through the broken glass, earning herself a few scrapes but not caring. She pulled the lock and almost wrenched the door off its fucking hinges.

“No! No - little one.. fuck….fuck!”

Her head was tilted, almost resting on her shoulder, and the blood. It was everywhere. She spotted the brick on the driver’s seat and her stomach dropped.

“No - please no…” She was crying as her hand found the far side of her head, hoping her spine wasn’t damaged. YFN shifted, lifting her head a little and Lucy let herself breathe the smallest sigh of relief. No neck injury. She gently lifted her head. The brick had left a gash just above her eyebrow, though the impact area had been slightly larger. Lucy ripped off her shirt and pressed it to the wound, trying to stop the blood running like a river down her face. Lucy was covered in blood and was shaking, terrified.

“Please wake up… please.. I’m so sorry. I…”

As if she’d heard the words, YFN groaned, her lips trembling as she slowly became conscious again. Her eyes fluttered open for a second and shut immediately, squeezing tight from the pain.

“L….Luce…”

“Right here. I’m right here, I’m so sorry my love. This is all my fault. I’m sorry-” Her voice broke. “Please stay awake. Please.”

“I f..feel sick. It hurts.”

“I know, my love. Stay strong for me, please. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

A crowd had gathered around but they were all useless, standing back and taking photos rather than helping. Especially when they realised it was Lucy Bronze.

“I’m going to get you to the hospital. Little one, do you think you can hold this to your head for a second?”

She helped to lift YFN’s trembling hand to the shirt on her head and ran around to the driver’s side, throwing the brick in the back seat and jumping in. She placed her hand over YFN’s, pressing it down and pushing her head into the seat. She whimpered.

“Sorry… sorry my love, we need to keep your head up. We need to keep the pressure on. Stay awake for me please..” She tried to sound calm under pressure but everything she said was rushed with fear. She’s just glad her neck wasn’t broken.

Lucy sped towards the hospital, not giving a fuck about traffic or lights or laws. She picked up the little Australian who’d stolen her heart and again, ignoring the pain throbbing through her knee, she carried her into the Emergency Department, shouting.

Several hours, scans and stitches later, they were in a private room. YFN was unconscious. They’d made her stay awake for several hours during the questions from staff and police, treatments and for monitoring purposes afterwards, but now she was sleeping softly, a bandage covering the stitches across the top of her left eyebrow. Lucy couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop her thoughts. Her eyes drifted over YFN. Here she was, the woman who’d dropped into her life out of absolutely nowhere. She’d had no idea who Lucy was. No idea about football. Nothing beyond that big, kind and caring heart of hers that always wanted the best for the people around her, regardless of herself. She’d seen Lucy at her best, and her worst, and loved her through all of it. But better than that, she’d understood her through all of it. Lucy would be lying to herself if she hadn’t thought about ending it, purely for YFN’s own sake. But that was just a flicker of an option she knew she’d never have the strength to do. The baggage that came with Lucy was significant, and she knew that, but she could never have expected something as dramatic as this. God, she loved the woman. She loved her. And she hadn’t even had a chance to tell her yet. She wanted to go to sleep next to her and wake next to her every day. She wanted to travel with her, experience new things, new foods, new movies… anything. Anything. With her. And no, they hadn’t known each other long at all, but Lucy knew. She’d been around. She understood. This was it, this was her home, her future. She’d accomplished a lot in life, football having been the most important thing to her, but she knew she’d drop it in a heartbeat for her. The tears fell silently as she thought about YFN and all she’d been through. She struggled to comprehend how she was single, and so closed off from letting people into her life. But she’d let Lucy in, and Lucy took that seriously. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Lucy had sent a few messages to her lawyers; they were going to press charges. She’d also messaged Jordan, knowing that she needed to tell her before she saw the photos online. Jordan had lost her mind, wanting to come back, but Lucy had said no. YFN wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want to inconvenience her and her training, and they both knew it. Jordan agreed eventually, offering to tell Katie and Caitlin, though she also wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night.

The photos leaked quickly with Lucy receiving multiple texts and phone calls. She ignored almost all of them except her family, Sarina, Alexia and her Barca coach. She even ignored Keira.

Her body uncontrollably shook with another wave of sadness, and she tilted her cheek into YFN’s palm. Her thumb stroked her cheek.

“Luce..?”

Lucy’s head whipped up. “You shouldn’t be awake…”

Her eyes were sleepy, and her brow furrowed in pain as she saw Lucy’s red eyes. “Come here.” She whispered. Lucy opened her mouth to argue but YFN wasn’t having any of it. “You need to sleep, and I need you. Come here.”

Lucy made her way carefully into the bed next to her, sliding under the covers. Her bicep pillowed itself under YFN’s neck and wrapped around her collarbones, while the other pulled her gently back into her. Her lips kissed her sun-kissed hair, and her cheek rested itself gently on her temple.

“Sleep please…” She mumbled as she drifted off to sleep again, much more comfortable and warm than she was before. Lucy slept.

Her head was pounding when she woke. Lucy was already awake, of course, pacing on her phone, talking in hushed whispers to not wake her up. She spotted her and ended the call, immediately by her side. YFN had some water, and painkillers, with the doctor coming in to explain the damage. They were concerned about the impact to her brain, though the results from their scans thus-far had been positive. They wanted to keep her in for another night to assess her. The main thing she craved was a shower and clean clothes, and she told Lucy the same. She’d said that clean clothes were on the way, and seemed a little like she was omitting some details, but YFN was in too much pain to care.

Lucy helped her out of the bed and to their shower. She undressed her with care and showered with her, making sure she was never too far away in case she stumbled or needed her. It was exactly what YFN needed. She needed Lucy right there; she needed to feel her and know she wasn’t going anywhere. Lucy’s hands glided over her in the shower, soaping her up and massaging her tight neck and shoulders after sleeping in a hospital bed. YFN groaned at the feel, turning around to face a tired looking Lucy. Lucy’s green eyes met hers a little blurry as she realised that she must have taken her contacts out and didn’t have her glasses.

“I can hear you thinking from here..”

“Lots to think about.” Lucy murmured.

YFN felt her stomach drop a little, worry seeping in. “Please don’t leave me..”

Lucy was startled by this, and then she understood where it was coming from. “I’m too selfish to ever do that, even if it is what’s best for you.”

Lucy admitting weakness was a rarity, but it just proved to YFN that Lucy was just as self-aware as she was. She breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “What now?”

“Now… we have clean clothes coming-”

“-and glasses I hope.”

Lucy chuckled. “And glasses. Firstly, I want us to leave this fucking city as soon as you’re discharged tomorrow. My lawyers are working on pressing charges. I’m unsure about the rest. I was supposed to leave for Barca in 3 days, and I need to cancel my session today, so I have a few phone calls to make.”

YFN kissed her jaw, her lips brushing up to her ear and back. Lucy shuddered. “I’m really happy to be leaving the city, I’m excited for Manchester and Birmingham and your family, and Dory. As for the charges…” Lucy gave her a look that said it wasn’t an option, but she was already in agreement. “…I’m fully on board. We need to talk lawyer costs though.” Lucy shook her head, but she continued. “But Luce, you’re not cancelling your flight to Barca. And you’re not cancelling your session today. I know its hard because of how fresh this is… but this is your career, and I will not accept you pushing that aside. We’ll still have our third date. You’ll still get me settled in with Dory.. and I’m safe in the hospital. I need to know that these… maniacs… haven’t affected our lives because they don’t get that. They can smash my head open with a brick-” Lucy winced, “-but they’re not taking anything else from us. They’re not affecting your career. They’re not getting me deported. And they’re definitely not ruining what we have..” To be honest, they were even closer than they would have been without all of the drama happening.

Lucy wasn’t keen on the idea, but she knew there was no arguing. If YFN was safe, and they were okay, then she was right, the stalkers didn't get to take anything else from them.

They finished up in the shower and dried off when a knock came at the door. Lucy lifted YFN up, leaving her sitting safely on the sink before exiting in a towel to get the door. YFN heard murmurs and then Lucy was back with a bag of clothes. They got dressed and YFN found Lucy’s glasses, putting them on her gently. She could see Lucy’s eyes coming into full focus again as she placed them on her. A smile crossed her face, followed by a little wince at the sight of the swelling around the bandage. Lucy took her head incredibly gently between her hands and kissed her eyebrow near the wound. Lucia Roberta ‘Tough’ Bronze. In reality, she’d been the most gentle human when it came to YFN.

They exited the room to see Leah sitting in one of the chairs, patiently waiting. YFN couldn’t help the confusion, but Lucy was quick to explain. “Leah’s still off with her ACL, and she lives in town. She called when she saw the photos, and Leah being Leah, offered to help.”

“We definitely appreciate it… thanks Leah.” She gave a genuine smile to the England Captain, feeling a little wobbly.

“You’re welcome, and I don’t want to intrude.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She stood looked a little awkward, her hands going to her back pockets, and then out to her front pockets.

“You’re not intruding at all, I think Lucy is headed off soon..” She looked at Lucy who frowned at that. “So I appreciate any company I can get.”

Leah relaxed a little and wandered over to the bed as YFN climbed back in, sitting up. “I heard you’re in here overnight?”

“One more night.” Lucy replied for her. “She’s still dizzy and sick, and a little foggy.” She turned to YFN, fluffing the pillow up behind her back. “I need you to eat today, please. Plenty of water also. Let the nurse know if you feel like you’re getting worse. I’m just a call away.”

YFN nodded, leaning forward to accept the kiss she planted on her forehead before her lips trailed down and found her lips gently. “Anything goes wrong. You. Call.”

YFN smiled at her persistence, her dimple on full display. Lucy admired her a little longer before she gave Leah a look that demanded she also do the same. Leah nodded and Lucy left, albeit unwillingly.

“I understand if you can’t stay.. I just wanted Lucy to feel a bit better about leaving me here after…” She gestured to her head.

Leah smiled and YFN could see what Jordan meant when she’d spoken about her falling for her smile. Leah was adorable.

“I’m happy to stay a while, it keeps my brain from going all sorts of funny places while I’m not training.”

YFN gestured to the bottom of the bed and Leah joined her, crossing one leg, keeping her other extended.

“You’re not training at all?”

“Off and on. I’m allowed two days a week at the minute. The rest is cardio and gym work to keep myself fit.”

“You must be dying to get back out there.”

“Yeah, it’s very difficult to be honest. I miss it so, so much. I’m dying to get back out there with the girls.”

YFN and Leah chatted for a while, getting more comfortable with each other. From their conversation, YFN realised that Leah was quietly intelligent, incredibly kind, and humble. She could see clearly why she was the Captain of the England squad. They spoke about her knee, her career, her Captaincy, as well as YFN’s life in Australia, her motivations and even her relationship with Lucy. Leah had known Lucy for a long time, and even though she was Jordan’s best friend and had no doubt seen Lucy at her worst during the years, she was a big advocate of hers. This surprised YFN as she was Keira’s best friend, and they had been together for several years. Though, Leah’s willingness to advocate so loyally for Lucy made her feel like Keira must have been fine with their relationship.

The more she got to know her, the harder it was for her to understand why she would have left Jordan. They seemed like two pieces of a puzzle. She brought Jordan happiness and support; Jordan brought her peace and kindness. Eventually, of course, the topic shifted to Jordan. Leah admitted that she’d wanted to talk to YFN a while about it because she’d become so close to Jordan and was ‘healthily on the outside of the female football drama’.

YFN knew it took courage and trust to admit what she did, but she did it anyways. Leah had felt overwhelmed in the position she found herself in, being Captain of England, and seeing that her girlfriend was so upset being the last choice for both Arsenal, and England when she worked so hard. Leah felt like she was being torn apart as she was in the biased position of dating one of the players least used by the teams. She knew Jordan was a fantastic player. She had nothing but kindness to say about her as a person, and a player, but she felt like she was betraying Jordan by not sticking up for her with Sarina, and with Jonas. It was absolutely not her place to choose squads and she knew that, and she knew that Jordan knew that also. She’d said that Jordan tried to not show how upset it made her, she’d keep it to herself because she didn’t want any pressure on Leah. Leah knew that Jordan never expected her to be an exception, but it still didn’t stop the pain in her heart and the thoughts in her head being stuck in the middle.

Leah admittedly didn’t cry often, but she was crying as she spoke about Jordan.

“It was the biggest mistake of my life. I was so weak." She said as YFN handed her tissues. “I loved her. I… I love her.”

YFN knew that it must have taken a lot for Leah to admit this all to her, especially when they didn’t know each other well. She was pouring her heart out to her because YFN was currently the closest she could get to Jordan. She knew this and told Leah how much she appreciated how open she was being.

“I can’t…speak for Jordan. She’s her own person. But I can tell her your side, Leah. Maybe then she’ll be willing to listen and have a proper conversation with you. I think you two both need to be in a room to talk this out because regardless of what happens, I know that you were really good friends, and you shouldn’t lose that..”

Leah was appreciative, and YFN knew that the outcome was exactly what she’d hoped for. They spent a bit longer together, playing cards and such before Caitlin arrived with someone YFN had never met before, Kyra Cooney-Cross. They’d said that Katie was stuck in interviews and couldn’t make it until later. Leah greeted them and took her leave, needing to go for a suit fitting for an upcoming carpet event.

Kyra was a cute little Australian also, with the personality of a cheeky kid. Caitlin had apparently been trying to ‘keep her in check’.

“A brick?!” Kyra asked, shocked.

“Fucking unbelievable. This is bullshit. Are you takin’ them to court?” Caitlin asked as they were all sitting on the bed, playing Uno.

“Lucy’s pissed. She’s spoken to her lawyers and yep, they’re pressing charges. First problem is they need to actually ID the girls. They all have fake accounts and the fan photos they have with Lucy don't help when they don't know their names.”

“They’ll get ‘em for sure.” Kyra said, dropping a +4 on Caitlin who groaned. “But it’s so wrong, and so scary.”

“Have you had more fans and fanatics since moving to Arsenal?” YFN asked.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t even used to have a chant and now they’re yelling it every game which is so sick.”

“I think it all changed after the world cup, to be fair.” Caitlin chimed in. “Now it’s not just wanting to watch us as players but wanting to know our personal lives as well. I can’t even get a coffee without being papped or recognised.”

“Ah, no privacy..”

“Yep. I’m a football player, not a celebrity. It’s turnin’ more into how the men’s game is which isn’t great, but I guess it just shows how far the women’s game has grown over the past few years.”

YFN nodded, able to understand their situation just a little bit more after being the victim of some Lucy fanatics. Thinking of Lucy, she checked her phone. She had multiple messages from Jordan and Katie, as well as other players she’d met. She responded to Jordan, agreeing to the phone call once she’d finished training, and texted Katie back also. Then she answered Lucy’s check-up message with a quick selfie of the three of them. Kyra had apparently never met Lucy before and was a big fan, getting nervous at the idea that she may meet her if she hung around long enough.

“Lucy’s going to bring food, are you two hungry?”

Although they’d missed half a day of training, they were more than happy to accept any food Lucy would bring them.

As they started their fifth game, Katie arrived with a hug and joined in on the game after checking on YFN. At the end of their seventh game, Lucy arrived. Her eyes immediately found YFN, relaxing at the sight of her okay. And of course, she was carrying pizzas from the restaurant she and YFN had tried to get them from the night before. Hopeless romantic. The Arsenal girls eagerly took the boxes from her hands while YFN shook her head and grinned at Lucy’s thoughtfulness. She grabbed her face and pulled her in for a ‘Hello, I missed you’ kiss. Lucy tenderly kissed back, and then inspected her bandage and head. Her black eye had developed, but YFN gave her the good news from the doctor regarding her progress. Lucy said hi to the girls, clapping hands and they introduced her to Kyra who looked like a star struck kid. Lucy chuckled at that, agreeing to a selfie before she joined them on the bed. They all knew they shouldn’t be eating take-away during the season but as Katie had said with a mouthful of pizza, “We’re eatin’ this in support of our friend who recently won a battle with a brick so dig in, girls!”

The pizza was incredible and according to Lucy, completely free after the restaurant had seen what happened the night before. YFN couldn’t blame them. If she was serving Lucy Bronze, she’d also give her whatever she wanted for free. They ate pizza, laughed, bantered and YFN made sure to massage Lucy’s knee a bit after her session. Kyra asked Lucy an over-eager amount of questions, which kept Lucy well entertained as she began winning all of the Uno games.

At one point YFN took a selfie of them all, Lucy making a point by putting her arms around her in the photo while the Arsenal girls fake-strangled each other in the back. She sent it to Jordan along with a message to tell her that Leah had also visited. Then, just to spite her stalkers, and with permission, she posted the photo to social media and tagged them all.

The girls all went along with the public ‘fuck you’ and reposted to their stories, commenting on the original post.

KatieMcCabe: YFN 1 – Brick 0 *brick emoji*

JordanNobbs: *red heart emoji* love you chicken

CaitlinFoord: they build us aussies tough *bicep emoji*

KyraCooney-Cross: Lucy cheated in Uno

LeahWilliamson liked your post.

Ridley: I want names and addresses. Now. *angry emoji* *blue heart emoji*

LucyBronze: *red heart emoji x 3*

Jordan replied to her message then.

“Leah came to visit you?”

[sturnsyaper69]

Didn't know.

Summary: you and Chris had be really close friends for a while. But that would all change when you walked in on him doing somthing....

Warnings!: SMUTT, dirt talk, p in v, masterbation, swearing, pet names, use of slut/whore (probably missed alot)

Me and chris where really close. I loved him so much. He was so funny and had a amazing personality. But there were times we're he was more dirty minded then most times. It was quite rare to see him like this but if I being honest I didn't mind it. Like there were times when we were alone and he would start talking to me about sex and porn smirking like he was about to pounce on me any second. Or times when I swear I cuaght a glimpse of his hard dick before he vanished into his room and coming back to find it gone. I tried not to think about it but after this event I couldn't.

It was the afternoon and starting to get dark chris was in his room and so was Matt. Me and nick left to go get food for all of us. Once we got back nick told me to go get chris and Matt. I nod and run to Matt's room yelling "DINNER MATTT" Mar jumped and laughed "JESUS- okay finnaly I'm so fucking hungry" I giggly "sorry!" I say before running downstairs. To chriss room.

I burst into his room before I stopped and gasped loudly by the scene that played out in front of me. It was chris laying on his bed his jean zipper down and his hard dick in his hand as he stroked himself hardley letting out loud grunts and moans "..f..fuckk" he let's out as he drops his head back against the head board. He picks up pace, his eyes glued shut. Before the door hit the wall as it was opened so quickly. His eyes shoot open as they widen shockingly. His mouth open wide as he yells "Wh- g....GET OUT Y/N" chris screams his eye brows furrowed and I shut my eyes and yell "OH MY GOD CHRIS IM SORRY" I scream as I slam the door behind me. I stand behind his door frozen. As I open my eyes and breathe heavily, running back up the stairs. To see Matt and Nick eating. "What was that about?" Nick says giggling. "It's noting nick he was busy, and he was just extra grumpy. I roll my eyes, playing it off." By the time I'm eating, Nick and Matt are finished, and they dart back to their rooms

My appetite is ruined by the image of chris replaying in my head. And it doesn't help that he's the one I sleep with every night or watch movies with, etc.

Yet I am slightly turned on. I scoff trying to brush off the fact that I liked what I saw.

My panties getting damp from the thought of it. I whine under my breath before I hear a chair being pulled out, met with the sound of someone sitting down.

I look up.

It's chris.

His eyes are staring dead at me. My eyes widen, and I look down. At my food. Before hearing him scoff.

"Oh, so we're playing that game?" I look up at him.

"what are you talking about." I say, trying to avoid contact.

"The whole fucking poor me game. As if it was my fault what just happend." He say sharply.

I roll my eyes "oh its not your fault? You shouldn't of been doing that shit while I was over you disgusting perv" I say wildly.

His eyes drop, and his nose flares. He looks at me through furrowd eye brows, making me shiver.

"Shut the fuck up you dirty little fucking whore. As if I hadn't cuaght you fingering you sorry little pussy becuase you can't take any." He states darkly with a glint of animalistic presence in his eyes.

I never knew he could be like this.

I look away embarrassed but angered. I stutter before hearing him chuckle.

"Cant get anything out can we?" He smirks

"SHUT UP! I HATE YOU" I scream in his face before trying to get up. His smirk dropping.

One of His cold, big hand slithers over my wrist, holding me in place with such power. His jaw clenched and eyes scarily dark once again.

"You've allways had a fucking attitude on you haven't you sweetheart?" He says his thumb carresing my wrist as he let's out a grin.

He always knew how to deal with my temper, and I loved that about him. So I couldn't help but melt at his words.

My eyes empty from all anger and fill with passion.

He knew he had me right were he wanted me.

"I'm really sorry, chris, I didn't know." I say with empathy. As his glare tightens, he makes me tremble from the shoulders down.

He swallows hardly, causing his Addams apple to strain a agaist his throat. "Honey. I know you didn't. But since you saw that, I need something from you." He says with a slight smirk on his face.

I look at him confused. "What is it chris" I say as he rolls his eyes.

"You know what I fucking want dumbass. Don't play dumb." He says strongly once again. Making me angry again.

"Wow I was being fucking nice and you get pissed again? Fuck you I'm not giving you shit." I say ripping from his grasp and getting up.

I hear his chair scrape against the floor hardly before hearing it fall. Followed by him pulling my shirt towards him, ripping it slightly, as he pushed me against the wall with power, making me grunt.

"You fucking slut, how fucking dare you say that shit to me" he yells wildly making me jump at how angry he was. His eyes pierced onto mine as his his hands had fist fulls on my shirt in it as he breathed heavily.

"I don't give a fuck what you think your gonna do, but I'm getting what I fucking want." He says as he screams in my face.

I scream back "Stop yelling at me!" I say looking away.

He brings his hand to my jaw and forces me to look at him.

"You want me to stop yelling at you, then you know what I fucking want. So be a good girl and drop low for me." He said before kissing my lips passionately, making me whine and moan in his mouth as he grinded his tongue against mine.

He breaks the kiss with a slight grin. Before slaping my ass. I got onto my knees before he got angry again.

He bit his lip and smirked. "Good girl, baby," he says as he runs his hand through my hair roughly.

He grabs a full fist of my hair and pushes me toward his crotch.

His huge bulge was straining through his jeans and begging for attention.

"Unzip me. I Wanns see if you can suck my dick quicker then you talk slut" he says glaring at me deeply.

I follow his orders, unzipping his pants "yes chris" I say before his hand grabs my jaw, roughing pushing my head up towards him.

"No. Daddy, call me fucking daddy." He states firmly.

"Yes daddy" I say whining as I smirked up at him biting my lip.

He grins wickedly and groans "mhmm" he says, satisfied with my answer.

I pull his jeans down before undoing the button. His jeans fall to the ground before he kicks them away.

He's left in black boxers. It isn't long until I slips my finger tips below the waistband.

I pull them down and his hard cock springs out.

My eyes widen as I take in his massive dick. The tips shiny from pre cum and twitching for attention.

He looks at me with a smirk and darkly chuckles.

He grabs his hard dick and starts slapping it on my face. Biting his lip while looking down at me.

He growls lowly and he rubs his thumb agaist my lips and I stick out my tounge.

He smacks and rubs his tip on my tongue as he groaned.

"Mhmm fuck what a good girl" he says his head falling back.

I whine before swirling my tongue around on his tip, and he lets out a croaky roar.

"No fucking teasing princesses." He say his first grips onto my hair before he forces me deep onto his dick.

His breath hitches and hips buck, as I moan before i start bobing my head up and down on his cock.

He moans deeply patting my head.

"Fuck.. just like that" he whines darkly.

He massages my shoulders, making me whine in pleasure.

I pick up pace as I look up at him, he stares back down his eye brows furrowed before a deeply low moan escapes his lips.

His eyes snap shut.

"Close...." I hear him say panting loudly.

I rub my hands on his theighs pushing him closer as he grabs my head and pushes me all the way down on his dick as he moaned deeply.

He bucks his hips violently making me gag and whine. Spit and cum dripping down my chin onto my theighs as he rode out his orgasm.

"Fuckk yess atta girl baby", chris says as he pulls me off his dick grabs me by my waist carring me as he rubbed my back.

"You okay, sweetheart? Your being such a good fucking girl for daddy but I'm not done with you yet baby" he says as his large hand rubbed my back through my shirt as he growled in my ear.

I whimper noding "yeah im fine I just want you so bad daddy" I say impatiently with cuased him to Crack.

He stormed down to his room, slaping my ass as he threw me back on his shoulder.

We went into his room and he shut the door before locking it. He sat me on the bed and stared at me deeply.

"I want you to take off your cloths princess let me see you" he says grinning.

I listen to his orders and strip off all my clothes.

I'm left completely naked.

He turns around, and he whimpers at the sight.

He strokes his cock before I say "don't touch yourself daddy let me make you feel good come here." I say whining

He growls deeply before smirking "damn baby, your making me so fucking horny" he says trying to contain his composure.

I grow wetter and wetter as he walks closer.

I sat on his bed on my knees in a sitting position as he stood at the end of the bed.

He looked at my breasts, then my stomach, theighs, hands, arms shoulders, and then my face.

He bites his lip then signals me to come to him.

His arms out as if he was gonna pick me up softly. I wiggle towards towards his arms as he grabs me and places me on the edge of his bed.

He stands over me and can't keep his eyes off me.

He let's out a deep sigh.

I look at him, tilting my head. "You can touch me, chris." I say, grabbing his hand.

His eye brows furrow at my touch. "Y/n. I don't think I'll be able to hold back, I don't want to hurt you." He says clenching his jaw.

At this point I was soaked.

I needed his dick right fucking now.

"Then don't. I want you so bad baby, fucking destroy my pussy please daddy" I beg him.

He forces his lips onto mine as he kisses me while laying me down.

He breaks the kiss and slaps my theighs "spread you fucking legs princess, let me hear thoose pretty moans." He says and i immediately follow his orders.

I spread my legs wide, and he does hesitate to bury his face between my legs, making me moan loudly.

His tounge grinds on my wet pussy as his nose hits my clit making me arch My back.

Aster about a minute I felt the knot in my stomach as I ache and cry out.

"Feel good, baby? Such a good fucking slut" he says making me shiver as the knot burst cuasing me to push chriss face deeper into my legs.

He moaned and ate me out with a incredibly fast pace as I pull his hair and grind agaist him he breaks the contact and smirks at me.

"You taste so good darling, come here let me make you feel even better" chris days before picking me up by the waist.

He sits down agaist his bed head board and Squats me over his dick.

"I want you to ride me hard, can you be a good girl and do it for daddy?" he says to me making me even more Hornier.

It was pretty obvious he had a kink but I never thought he would be that kinky.

But I wasn't complaining. I was enjoying every second of it.

He slowly starts to sit me down onto his cock.

"Good girl almost there, baby. I'm so proud of you" he says as I take half of his dick.

I let out loud whines and moans as I sit fully on it.

He kissing me again "good girl you took all of me princess" he says before he starts moving slowly making me moan loudly.

He grabs my hips and keeps me in place as he fucks me. Speeding up making me scratch his shoulders and kiss all over his neck.

"Ughh... uh.. fuckkk daddy..mhmm" I let out long moans and squels as he slams into me picking up pace before he starts panting.

"Fuck.. close.." I whine and grab his shoulders

Wrapping my self around him as I bounce on his dick hardly.

"Fuck yeah baby take this fucking cock" he says before rubbing my ass before his hand slithers down My leg to my clit were he stars rubbing it hardly.

I squels and tense as I shake and moan, he smirks and kissing my neck ad I cum all over his lap riding my orgasming out as I grindes on him.

He moans loudly before spilling into my pussy deeply. He groans and cums again.

The rooms filled with slapping nosies and moans.

We catch our breath before laying next to each other breathless.

He turns to me and smiles.

"Thanks for repaying me," he says cheekily, making me giggle and nudge him as I fall asleep in his arms.

HEY GUYSSSS, this is really lazy, and I haven't been posting stories because all the ones I've made I've hated. Like the ideas good, but the writing gets so messyyy like this one at the end and shit. Also, if you have any ideas, please ask me OR ANYTHINGGG. I love yall so fucking much also thanks so much for all the attention on my last post!! 💓 I'm so sorry I'd I don't reply to comments I get so nervous and don't know what to sayyy but I notice them!! LOVE YALLL ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[im-yn-suckers]

ink

pairing-bf niki x gf reader

warnings-kisses, lotssssss, both of yall are soft asf, reader is up at 11 and niki gets home from dance practice at that time, crying, mention of snot, cuddles, mention of s*gag* sch*gag* school.*gag* not proofread bc im lAzy, lmk what i missed

why are you up at 11 with your computer on right in front of you? because of your fucking professor. yes, yesterday you had to miss class because you overslept. like its not your fault that school starts at 6 and they give you homework that takes you hours to do. anyway, according to your friends, you had an essay due tomorrow so you only had one day to work on it.

your pens and pencils were scattered all over the table. your notebook was open and your notes were written messily due to you being extremely tired. sticky notes on the edge of your laptop and notes.

dry tears stained your face and left a pink tint. your lips and mouth were sore from having them scrunched. your eyes were puffy, and your nose with snot coming out of it. you reached for your tissue, and placed it in the trash next to you, after cleaning your nose.

a minimum of 1,000 words for your essay, 100 done. stress was going in through the front door, sadness through the back and exhaustion through the windows.

you looked up to the ceiling to prevent crying, almost there. you can do it, you know you can. so why are you telling yourself you cant. it was dark out and you could barely see. 100 words, 10 tear stained tissues, and one coffee later, you took a two minute break. not enough. tears ran down your face while typing, your hands cramping and at the very moment you let out a sob-

-"Y/N!!! im home and i have some sna- baby, whats wrong?"- even though he was tired at this hour, he was always energized to see your face. he dropped the bags of snacks and drinks on the floor and went to hug you.

he saw your laptops screen, tissues, notes, pens and tear stained pages and started to peck your scalp.

-"its ok, my love. you'll be ok, i'm here. nothings going to happen"- he reassured you, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your forehead.

he closed your laptop notebook and pencil case, wiped your tears, and put it all in a pile to the side. he put the snacks and drinks on the table.

after a bit of eating, laughing and reassuring, you told him your essay was due tomorrow. he set your stuff up and told you to take deep breaths to calm down before starting again.

you had one paragraph left, you're almost there. you can do it. you set your hand on the table to look through your notes. niki grabbed a pen and your hand. he started to doodle some weird figures. little giggles escaping his lips. he switched the color to red, holding your hand down so you wont look

you wondered what he was doing. he smirked mischievously, put the pen back and laid his head on the table to avoid your eyes.

you looked at your hand and saw two stick figures in black ink. they were holding hands and had big smiles on their face. in red ink, there was a heart surrounded by 5 little ones. flowers in the background as well.

you looked over at niki who was looking at you. he blinked in awe and you finished your essay. you closed you laptop and put everything in your backpack. you walked over to your room while niki was getting ready to sleep.

you looked at your hand again and nik just stood at the door frame. you quickly finished getting ready and laid down. niki plopped himself on top of you playfully, filling your room with laughter.

-"i'm so proud of you baby. i love you"- he said, kissing your head

-"i know, i love you too"- he leaned forward and kissed you softly.

he held you close to him and kissed you passionately. he fell asleep after a few seconds and you looked at your hand once more. you kissed his nose and fell asleep on his arms

an: wow, its longer than usual. woohoo. slayyy fr. sunghoon drabble coming soon yall

[ineffablywriting]

break my heart again

an angsty one shot about overheard conversations, Grammy awards and a girl who just wants to be loved

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised, regret etched into his face. 

“Don’t be,” Bella replied, not turning to look at him. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.” 

“It’s the Grammy’s,” He implored, reaching out and tugging on her shoulder to get her to look back at him. 

She shrugged his arm off and took a step further away before sucking in a deep breath and turning to face Harry once again. “I know. And I get it. I really get it, Harry. This is a big opportunity for you and you have a real chance of winning.”

“Yes, exactly!” He said in relief, allowing a small smile to curl his lips. But Bella didn’t smile back and his own slipped off just as quickly as it had appeared. “There’s a but,” he stated. 

“There’s a but,” Bella nodded. “My sister’s wedding is on the same day. You knew this.” 

“I know,” he agreed.

“But this is more important to you,” Bella continued for him. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Harry replied sharply, his lips turning down as he tried not to snarl. He hated when people accused him of things when they had no idea what was going through his head. 

“I’m not,” she shrugged. “I heard you on the phone to your manager,” she took another step away from him. 

“You were listening in on my phone calls?” he glared at her, feeling a pinch in his chest. He ignored it, refusing to acknowledge the trickle of guilt forming in his heart. 

“You know I wasn’t,” Bella shook her head, already so disappointed she couldn’t even find herself feeling angry at his accusal. “I had come over cause we were meant to go to dinner that night. You were the one who gave me a key to your house, remember?” 

Another step back, and this time Harry’s eyes flashed as he stomped across the room and stood right in front of her. “Why are you slowly stepping further and further away?” he asked her, his voice a low growl. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just decide to leave.” 

Bella swallowed back the lump in her throat and looked away from him, her eyes landing on her shoes as she tried to draw up enough courage to say what she needed to say. 

“This isn’t working, Harry,” she told him. 

“What do you mean?” he took a sudden step back, his voice once again back to its normal decibel. 

“I mean, I think we need to stop pretending this, whatever this is between us, is working. Your career is always going to be more important to you. I will always be further down that list. I don't even come in second,” she scoffed bitterly, wrapping her arms around her stomach to try and hold herself together as she felt herself fall apart inside. 

“What the fuck are you on about, love?” he scoffed right back. “You’re talking rubbish. We’ve known each other our whole lives, no one else works as well as we do.” 

“Harry,” Bella sighed, looking up at him once again. “I know.” 

“Know what?” 

“I’ve known from the start. This thing between us was never real for you.” She lifted a hand and rubbed away the lone tear that had escaped. She hadn’t even felt them building. 

“What?” This time Harry took a step back, fear of what Bella was saying and worry about what she was about to reveal, causing his heart to race.

“I heard you talking to Jeff that day over a year ago, before you asked me out. How dating me would be great for your image since we’ve known each other longer than almost anyone else. How dating someone who wasn’t famous would be a better brand for you, to make you more relatable to the fans. How it would make you more endearing,” she spoke, not taking a breath and letting out all the words she’d buried deeper and deeper in her chest for the last year of her life. “I’d hoped maybe, just maybe that you’d fall in love with me too. I thought maybe when you gave me a key to your place it meant that you cared just a little. But I was wrong. And I don’t blame you,” she continued. “It was my fault. I knew what I was getting into and I did it anyway.”

“Bella,” Harry paused and took a deep breath then started again. “I…fuck. I should have told you from the start,” he began, hating the heartbroken look on her face. “But you have to know that I do-”

“Don’t,” Bella stopped him, anger written all over her face. “Don’t lie to me,” she told him. “Not anymore.” 

“Did you even realise that I also got the email Jeff sent to you and your management and PR team?” she asked him. 

“No,” Harry looked horrified, feeling sick at the reminder of the words he’d read and the words he’d typed back, hitting reply all in the email. 

“Yes,” Bella said sadly. “So I’m saving you the trouble. Here’s my key,” she placed it on the coffee table by the door where Harry had thrown his own keys. “I’ve already told my sister that you won’t be able to make it to her wedding - she said congrats on the Grammy nomination and she hopes you win. So, you don’t have to worry about finding an excuse to - what was it you called it? - an excuse to get out of going to a stuffy event that you didn’t care about?” 

Harry flinched at the harsh words he’d used. He remembered being so angry and frustrated that day that he’d been rude in every conversation he’d had, and every email and text he’d sent. Things hadn’t gone right in the studio and he’d taken it out on everyone around him. 

“Bella,” he tried again, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Like I said we don’t have to pretend anymore, at least not between us. I know you want to go to the Grammy’s. And I know you want it to go off without a hitch, so I won’t say anything.” 

“Say anything?” he repeated, dumbly. “About us being broken up,” she told him, not meeting his eyes. 

“Broke-broken up?” 

“That’s the next step according to the emails. They all seemed to think I was in on all of this,” she waved her hands around between the two of them. “So they sent me a timeline of when and how we were to break up and all the things I was and wasn’t allowed to say about it.” 

“They did what?” Harry asked, and when she looked up at him he looked furious. 

“Yeah,” Bella reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper with a list of instructions on it. She handed it over to Harry. “I- I thought you would have helped come up with these.” 

Harry was silent for a couple of minutes, reading down the list, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his fingers tightened on the edges. “I would never come up with anything like this,” he told her, looking up. His eyes were pleading with her to believe him. But Bella just shrugged and looked away, and Harry didn’t think his heart had ever ached this much in his life. “It still doesn’t matter,” she told him. 

“Of course it matters!” He hissed. “No one told me about this shit,” he waved the paper at her. 

Bella smiled a little bitterly, her eyes once again looking so sad. “No one told me about our whole relationship, so I guess that kinda makes two of us.” 

He flinched back at her comment and she regretted saying anything. Despite everything, she still didn’t want to hurt him. 

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” she shut her eyes, counted to ten and then looked back up at him. “I already agreed to all the conditions. You’ll go to the Grammy’s and win your awards and feel accomplished, and I’ll go to my sister’s wedding and spend the day with my family pretending everything is fine between us. Then a few weeks later, your team will let it slip to the media that we’re going through a rough patch and a couple days later we’ll confirm that we’ve broken up,” she told him, not an ounce of emotion behind her words. 

Harry hated it. 

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to break up.” 

“Harry,” Bella sighed, this time sounding exasperated. “Not everything is about what you want.” 

“I know that,” he said defensively. 

“Then you need to accept that this is happening.” 

“You-you want to break up?” he asked her, his chest tight. He couldn't breathe.  

Bella shook her head and Harry almost felt a little bit of relief until she spoke again. “I want to be loved,” she said sadly. “And I don’t think you know how to do that.”

She took a step forward and gripped Harry’s hand. “I hope - I hope one day you’ll realise your worth isn’t defined by your success and I hope that one day you’ll be able to let yourself fall in love with someone who makes you forget about the rest of the world enough that you put them first. And I’m sorry that wasn’t me.” 

Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving Harry clutching hold of the locket he’d given her. He opened it and stared at the two photos she’d placed inside one night when they’d been cuddled on the couch watching a movie. 

The two images stared back at him, teasing him cruelly with the smiling faces of himself and Bella when they were ten. The same smiles were on the other side with a picture of them ten years later when they’d recreated their childhood photo. 

He didn’t realise he was crying until a single tear dripped onto the locket. 

-

Helloooo, it’s been a while. A lot has changed in my life so I’ve been a bit busy haha. I would love some feedback tho. I haven’t written anything in over a year so I’m feeling a little rusty. Let me know what y’all think! 🫶🏼

[undertheopensky]

Anticipation

Whumptober Day 16: Alt #5 Body Modification

Characters: Legend, Wild, Warriors

Trigger warnings: Presumed drowning, body horror, painful transformations, some blood

Read on Ao3!

Oh look! More drowning! Except not really.

-----

“Why is your Hyrule so inconvenient?”

“It’s not my fault the lizalfos took over the docks!” Wild stabs one under the arm. Black-blooded and undeterred, it just hisses and swaps its jagged weapon to the other hand. “I clear them out and then they come back, it’s just the ways things work here!”

“Well it’s fucking annoying!” Wars knocks aside the spear aimed for his gut, then uses his shield to knock the monster back a few paces. When it stumbles at the edge of the wooden platform, he pushes the advantage and shoves it off into the river below.

“Wait, don’t -”

“They swim,” says Wars flatly, wiping his hair out of his face. He ducks to the side when the lizalfos spits at him again.

“Yeah,” says Wild. “And good luck getting them out of the water again.”

Wars mutters curses under his breath.

Having - finally - finished off his current opponent, Wild switches to a bow so he can take out the lizalfos Wars had unsuccessfully tried to drown. The best thing to do is just pepper them with arrows until they get angry about him dodging their return shots and come close enough to hit with a sword, or keel over with twenty arrowheads in their face. And since Wild is best with a bow, that makes it his job. Fortunately it’s one he enjoys.

Wars curses again. “Shit - vet, look out!”

There’s a yelp, a splash, and triumphant lizalfos jeering.

Wild rolls his eyes. “You okay down there, vet?”

He fully expects to hear cursing, or maybe complaints about getting his boots wet. That there’s nothing -

“The vet can swim, right?!” he asks, running for the dock Legend had been standing on.

“He said he could!”

But there’s uncertainty there, because none of them have ever seen him do it. When they’d wound up on Outset for a week Legend had refused to get within spitting distance of the water.

Absently blocking a tail swipe, Wild scans the rough water for red and gold and pink, and - there! Dragged along in the current. It doesn’t even look like he’s trying to swim, just struggling uselessly against the water. The vet is so going to get it for lying about being able to swim. If Wars doesn’t kill him, Time definitely will, once they make it back and Wars snitches.

Graceless but efficient, Wild hacks away at the lizalfos until it collapses in a heap of smoke. A quick check proves Wars is holding his own against the only two remaining, a black and a blue, so he can handle that.

Monsters dealt with, Wild jumps in the water -

And finally hears Legend screaming.

Sound underwater is always weird. Too flat, and strangely echoing. Wild still recognises the sound of Legend in pain, and his heart tries to turn itself inside out on the spot. Fuck. Fuck. What had happened? Had one of the lizalfos got in a lucky shot while pushing him off the platform? Was that why he hadn’t surfaced? But it’s been minutes what could have - there’s blood in the water -

Wild swims closer. There’s a - a zora? Tangled up with him, are they trying to help Legend? Wild doesn’t know them, doesn’t know anyone with that combination of pink and gold and gossamer veils instead of thick fins. What if they’re not helping? What if they’re why Legend is screaming? Zora are big and strong and agile in the water and this one must be huge to have such a big tail -

Legend shudders, and goes silent, and the thrashing stops, and Wild can actually get a clear look at what’s going on as he dives to the rescue.

There was no zora. The tail is attached to Legend, his body Hylian to the hips then transitioning to the pink and gold scales of an enormous fish. Wild’s never seen one with such delicate, translucent fins.

Or one that was, y’know, attached to a person, but that’s neither here nor there.

Wild hooks an arm around Legend’s waist and tows him to the surface. He’s desperately close to out of air; what about the veteran? He’d been - goddess - screaming right up to the last, so was he able to breathe underwater like this? He hopes so. Legend’s not resisting him at all and it’s really concerning, actually.

Breaching the surface, Wild takes a few seconds to gasp for air - he’d really cut it too close - before turning to inspect Legend. He’s relieved to find the veteran blinking back at him, tired but aware, water pouring from his face and hair. “Oh thank the goddess. Where are you hurt?” Wild starts swimming them towards shore - it’s not as close as it should be, because the current had apparently said ‘fuck you’ and pushed them both out to the middle while dragging them downstream.

“Mm? Jus’ a bruise, the lizalfos tripped me n’ I hit my hip on the platform as I fell.”

Wild remembers just how much blood there was in the water and does not believe him, but there’s no easy way to check while they’re both treading water. Legend being half a fish will probably also make things tricky. Do fish even work the same way Hylians do??? Legend is definitely a little hazy. He’s barely helping Wild tug them along, just giving a sluggish kick now and then, more to keep his balance then for propulsion. “Okay, so how do we get rid of the tail?”

“I transform back when I leave the water.”

Cool, that’s easy. Wild finally finds the riverbed with his feet. Blessed solid ground! Well, semi solid. It’s more sand than mud, at least. Although… hmm. There’s no way Legend will make it out of the river without feet. Wild will have to carry him. “Alright, up we go!” He scoops Legend into his arms and starts wading out.

Legend falls against him, visibly confused, before he registers what’s happening and his eyes go wide. “No!” He throws himself backwards, and his massive tail thrashes. They overbalance.

Up to his neck in river water with sand creeping into his pants, Wild turns a dead-eyed glare on Legend. “Why.”

“I wasn’t - I don’t -” Legend’s tail flicks back and forth like an agitated cat. He sinks deeper into the water. “I wasn’t… ready. I can’t -”

“Can’t turn back that fast?” Okay, so there’s a time component. That’s fine. Wild would like to get dry sometime today, but he can cope. “How long til you can make the switch back, an hour?”

“No, it’s just -” Legend looks away, shame pinning his ears low. “I just - need a break. Need to brace myself, first.”

Wild remembers Legend’s screams.

Dread rising, he asks, “It’s the same turning back?”

Legend reluctantly nods.

“Fuck.”

Legend gives a humourless bark of laughter. “Yeah.”

“The fuck kind of ability is it?”

“Cursed item,” Legend says. He scowls at Wild’s raised eyebrows. “What, did you think I was joking every time I told you not to touch my shit?

“No, I’m just surprised you still use it. It sounds horrible.”

Legend sighs. “Part of the curse. There’s no item to use - it’s just a part of me now.”

“Ledge! Wild!”

They both look up. Wars is jogging along the shoreline towards them; he would have had to navigate the docks to get off the river first before even starting to follow them, poor bastard. He’s a little out of breath when he slows to a stop near them. “Are you both okay? Ledge, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you in time, but you told us you can swim!”

“I can swim,” Legend snaps, a bit more life coming back into him. “It’s just a bit difficult when a cursed item is unexpectedly breaking every bone in my legs!”

Warriors’ face goes horrified, scanning Legend like he can see through the water still rushing past. Legend reddens. “I’m fine, stop giving me that look!”

You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you, says Wars dryly.

The sigh Legend gives is long and loud to express his annoyance, but he kicks back in the water so the pink and gold of his tail comes close to the surface. “Involuntary transformation,” he says shortly, and rights himself.

“It’s pretty,” says Warriors.

Legend glares at him, tense and waiting for the punchline.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

The tail thrashes, churning up river mud into a murky soup. “And open myself up to every joke and taunt you all can think of? ‘Legend turns into a pretty pink fish, let’s knock him in the fountain for a laugh!’”

“Legend. That doesn’t sound like a joke. That sounds like torture.”

Legend flinches and looks away.

Wars continues doggedly, “I knew a guy in the war who used transformation magic. Scary stuff - and it always left him pretty fucked up afterwards. I saw blood in the water, was that from you?”

“It was,” says Wild, ignoring Legend’s irritated hiss.

Wars grimaces. “And I bet transforming the other way is just as bad. Shit. Is there anything we can do to help? Make it easier?”

Legend shrugs and sinks deeper in the water, uncomfortable. “I mean, it’s not as bad if I have warning? When it’s unexpected it always seems to take longer.”

“That happen often?” Wars asks.

He wobbles a hand. “Not so much these days. I’m more careful around water that’s deep enough to trigger it.” He snorts. “I’ve been waiting for one of these portals to dump us in a lake, though.”

Wars and Wild both cringe.

Breathing out sharply, Legend sets his face into something grim and determined. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Legend’s stifled screams are awful, but somehow not as awful as watching his beautiful tail tear itself in two. The scales slough off in sheets, exposing twitching muscle underneath, before pale skin crawls in to replace them, painfully slow. Coiling ribbons of crimson are swept downstream along with shed scales, glimmering pink and gold. Eventually, he’s left fully Hylian, drenched and panting in the shallows.

Wars insists on running his hands over his legs, checking to make sure the skin sealed fully and the vet is intact.

“It may look horrific, but it does at least put everything back when it’s done,” says Legend dryly.

“Sounds horrific, too,” says Wild. The sound of Legend’s bones breaking, tearing away from themselves, and then reforming had nearly made him hurl.

“And this happens every time? Isn’t there any way to control it?”

Legend cracks one tired eye to look at him. “No. As soon as I’m submerged up to the waist, the curse takes over.”

“Fuck,” says Wars.

“I already said that, you’re behind the times,” says Wild, making Legend grin.

“Well it bears saying again.” Wars scrubs at his eyes. “Wild, you’re the expert here - how far off course are we?”

“Uhh.” Wild has to pull out the slate to answer that one. He knows they wound up downriver, but how far? Whoof. “Well, we’re almost to Thims Bridge,” he says, “which is not closer to Kakariko.”

“More’s the pity,” Legend mutters, trying to wring out his hair.

“However, instead of trying to catch us horses in the wetland, since we’ll be going straight past a stable I can just pull mine. So, yay for that?”

“How far is it to the stable?”

Wild squints, trying to do the math on foot. “Like… half a day, maybe? We weren’t gonna make Kakariko today no matter what, so it might be better to stay at the stable’s inn overnight.” He and Wars meet each other’s gaze and carefully do not look at Legend, who most needs the rest.

“Sounds like a plan,” Wars agrees.

With a grunt of effort, Legend levers himself upright. “Which way, then?”

“Well according to the weird glowy map, the bridge is that way, but I’m not seeing how that’s your problem.” Wars kneels in the sand, presenting his back to Legend. “C’mon, climb on.”

“What? No. You are not carrying me, there’s no need for that shit.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at you. You’re exhausted. You can barely stay on your feet. It won’t cost me anything to carry you for a bit while you get your strength back. Besides,” he adds, “your shoes are soaked. If you walk half a day in them now you’ll get blisters.”

Legend makes an indistinct grumbling noise. “Fine.”

When they eventually make it to the stable in the evening, they’re beyond relieved to see the rest of the Chain waiting there. It does mean that Wild has to race ahead making frantic gestures for everyone to shut the fuck up, lest they wake Legend, sleeping peacefully on Warriors’ back.