#ill just keep thinking my thoughts over here l

[michameinmicha]

Im so full of love for justus jonas i hope you all know i think about him a lot! I have zero energy to write or draw anything but i hope you are aware hes rotating in my brain like a little ballerina in a kids jewellry box every day and if i could make some art i would okay!!!

[lady-ashfade]

soulmate au with percy and reader. i was thinking like reader is like a complete nobody at camp and the daughter of some not really known god. percy and reader meet by accident and they figure out they are soulmates. percy at first didn’t want anything to do with it because he had feelings for annabeth but comes around.

Percy Jackson x Fem!reader. (Soulmate au)

-£ Pictured a older version of book Percy, but imagine them staying a camp or coming late.

-£ words: 1.5 words

-£ warnings: Angst, rejection, jealousy, I love annabeth, percy being mean? Idk. Anyway kinda short. What can I say, I love a man with dark hair who has sass?🤷‍♀️

“Do you ever wonder who you’re soulmates is?” percy sat on the log near the cliff looking over the sunset. annabeth keeping her eyes on the forest below, smiling softly as the orange sun hit her skin.

“I’m not worried about it, they will come to me when the time is right.” she replied with a calm voice.

percy could help himself from looking down at her hand and slowly inching his hand near hers. the marking was just late. he knew that she was his soulmate. how could she not be after everything they went through? besides no one knew him like she did.

fate is a funny thing.

because the person who was chosen to be his, and his alone wasn’t the girl he sat next to. it was you. you barely had any contact with percy. never even spiking a word to each other and yet the world still twined you together.

looking back on it he wished he reacted in a nicer way then he did. anything other then what he did, even faint.

he was running a pile of arrows to the archery training ground when he ran into you. as soon as your eyes met the world was slow for just a second and colors shined brighter then they did. in that moment you both felt something that was more then the gods. something even the gods can’t touch.

“woah,” you whisper with your hands still held onto the arrows he was trying to give to you. his hands didn’t stop clinching onto the wood, he couldn’t believe it.

you blink at him for him to do something other then stand there and stare with a open mouth. sure this type of thing wasn’t normal but he didn’t even move a inch.

but you wished he had stayed quiet, “Look, I um..” he let go of the things you two shared and took a step back with hasted.

“I have to run.” you watched him run off like there was nothing important to keep him here.

At first you thought that he was just shy, in shock, and didn’t know what to say. but you soon figured out he wanted nothing to do with you. you followed him around and tried to talk to him at every chance you got but he would always slip from your fingers.

cornering him in the woods at night wasn’t the best idea but you had but there was not other choice. it didn’t feel good to have your soulmate avoid you.

“There is a mistake.” his voice echoed through the woods, “I feel nothing for you. I am sure you are amazing, but you are not my soulmate.”

he watched the tears pool into your eyes like the waves he controlled. taking a step back from the news from his lips that crushed your soul. “I am in love with another.”

Licking your lips you roll your eyes to try and stop the tears forming. “it’s annabeth isn’t it?” he couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. the silence he gave when he opened his mouth but nothing came out told you everything you needed to know.

“I do hope you live a happy life,” you walked closer to him only inches away, “especially when she finds her soulmate.” you walked past him and down the dirt path back to your cabin where you broke down.

fate was twisted and cruel for giving you him.

day and night you thought about him. and day and night you got worse. everyone could see the toll of being rejected but no one new by who. not a soul knew about you and percy and you honestly liked it that way. no pity glances when they hung out together. 

soulmate depression was a serious thing and could lead one down to a never reversible illness. your eyes lost their light, no one ever saw you smile, looking as dead like as possible. every positive feeling in your body was drained out.

annabeth looked over at you at diner time as you stared at the plate in front of you, sitting at the edge of the bench. “It’s terrible,” she said and picked at her food with a fork. “I hope they come around.”

the trio stared at you in pity, one of them feeling guilt. “It’s a really bad case, I feel so bad.” Grover looked sad as he almost cried himself. love was supposed to be for real, that’s what soulmates were for! If he had one he would never let them get like that.

Percy found himself studying the girl. Her hair messy, her face grime and eyes blank and darker then the last time he looked in them. And Percy was the cause.

“Yeah,” the black hairy boy turned and poked at his food.

It has been week since then and a weight sunk in his stomach when he thought of you, which was almost every moment now. He thought about how you would smile before and how he wanted to see that again. He really thought he liked annabeth but each day that feeling went away.

Maybe he could think things over. But how could he apologize? Would you still want him?

But as Percy thought over the war in his head you moved on. Or as much as you could. there was a sickness in your body but you tried to fight it and spent time with your friends.

one boy took you in quickly. the two of you now glued at the hip and he was the only one who seemed to make you smile now.

“Dude,” Grover knocked his shoulder with his own, “What did he do to you?”

The son of Poseidon darted his eyes lowly at some boy. The way you smiled ever so sweetly like he has been wishing to see for weeks but this- This guy could cause it easily. And those small laughed he could hear so faintly in his ears.

“Nothing.” Percy stated while still glaring at the guy heavily.

the satyr nodded but lingered his eyes on his friend for a few seconds. clearly not believing him one bit.

“I have to tell you something,” he pulled his eyes away from you and to his friend. Guilt covering his face. “You know how y/n got reflected by her soulmate?” his voice shaky.

“Of course, it was hard to watch.” He answered. It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots when Percy lifted his brows as a sign. Grover gasped loudly.

“You did- Oh my god’s. How could you?” His mouth was then covered by Percy as he shh’d him.

Percy took a big breath as he held his hand over his mouth, “I’m not proud of it. It was just, I didn’t feel like we could be. I thought me and annabeth were soulmates until they came along,” he turned his eyes back to your direction to find you laughing slightly with your friends.

“I was terribly wrong.”

As much as Grover was mad at his friend he could see the guilt and regret on his face. He helped him come up with a plan, and gave him a very long lecture about love. Annabeth found out, and cursed him out. Saying that the marks don’t lie and was overly upset he could do that for her.

it took a week of long work for him to build up the courage to finally talk to you.

lucky he knew exactly where you would be. in the same stop he saw you for the first time as his soulmate. In the training grounds. You had been walking back to your cabin looking as beautiful as always even with your gloomy change.

you had a basket in your hand. you hummed quietly and kept your eyes on the dirt path underneath your feet. you were too out of it to hear him walking from behind you. “Y/n.” He called your name.

turning around startled you are met with him smiling at you. the boy who broke your heart standing there with a warm smile on his face as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Percy.” You whisper and step back. “I um…Do you need something?” you were shaking almost.

He got closer slowly as he got more awkward by the second, “can we talk?” you were hesitant to expect his offer but you nodded.

“I want to apologize for rejecting you. I felt horrible watching you- Well, get like this.” He kept getting closer and you didn’t know if you should run away or scream at him.

“I was wrong. You are the girl for me.” He saw the tears flood in the corner of your eyes and your lips tremble

“you think that’s enough?” you didn’t yell but he could sense the harsh tone in your voice. And you have that right.

“No, not really.” his frowns. Knowing he needed to do more.

“But I’m willing to work as hard as I need to. If you will have me?”

His green eyes filled with sorrow. the feeling to leave him here, with nothing like he did to you. But you couldn’t. You felt better in his presence as he looked at you.

“I’ll allow it, but we take this slow.” All he could do was smile again and nod his head in understanding.

even if you didn’t trust him. he healed your heart in the matter of seconds.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy. 

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them. 

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything. 

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?” 

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick? 

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?” 

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs. 

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.” 

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking. 

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.” 

“What?” 

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.” 

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time. 

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?” 

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out. 

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag. 

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?” 

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor. 

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin? 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?” 

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly. 

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks. 

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.” 

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?” 

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in. 

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine. 

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner. 

Until right now. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed. 

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.” 

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again. 

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.” 

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue. 

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat. 

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.” 

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity. 

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf. 

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.” 

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea. 

[mickyschumacher]

Hi hun

Could you maybe write a smau about Charles x Brazilian!reader and maybe she’s like a famous actress or something?

Thank you 🤍🤍

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after being publicly mistreated by your ex-boyfriend, fans couldn't be more welcoming to a certain f1 driver.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of cheating, poor humor, google translated portuguese

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x famous brazilian actress!fem!reader

𝐅𝐂: bruna marquezine

𝐀/𝐍: i opted for a sm au after getting ill this week so hope ya'll don't mind! i was also stuck between bruna and livia as the fc but i figured my girlie bruna was the best! hope this was okay anon ♡︎

𝐏.𝐒: i don't think there are much plots in sm aus so there wasn't much here lol! also getting danny ric back at this time is kinda crazy. couldn't believe it when i saw it... but i also feel for nick :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

charles_leclerc posted on his story!

yourusername

liked by masonmount, charles_leclerc, zendaya, and 2,304,093 others

yourusername: cura ♡ healing♡

view all 53,041 comments

leclercs: guYS THE DOG 👀

norrarijimin: they're soft launching 🤧🥺

zendaya: beautiful girl ❤️

yourusername: says you ♡︎

ynauurrrr: i miss her and n tho 🤧

ynbestgirl: bestie no one misses him lmao

f1gossip

liked by leclercs, pierregasly, ynbestgirl and 24,942 others

f1gossip: Rumoured WAG Y/N L/N has been promoting her heavily anticipated show in the Netherlands and seen taking pictures with her fans, a few days before the Dutch Grand Prix.

tagged: yourusername

view all 745 comments

ausnorris1: it just keeps getting better am i right?

ynbestgirl: does she ever have a day off being the prettiest woman in the world?

norrarijimin: no one talking about gasly's like?

leclercs: the drama this man likes to start...

pierregasly liked this comment!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, landonorris, and 3,294,291 others

yourusername: here are some behind the scenes while you wait for the first episode tonight!

tagged: romuloestrela, johnnyomassaro

view all 63,304 comments

romuloestrela: uau… estamos incríveis. wow... we look amazing.

johnnyomassaro: modelos models

yourusername: obviamente... obviously...

ynbestgirl: IT'S GONNA BE SO GOOOOOOD

leclercs: talent with talent... love to see it!

charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ charles_leclerc: new day, new show recommendation for tifosi! #deusslaveorei ]

[ charles_leclerc: favourite character is caterina ❤️ #deusslaveorei ]

yourusername posted on her story!

[ yourusername: i hope singapore is ready for ferrari! thank you for having me f1 ♡︎ ]

[ yourusername: the singapore grand prix winner doesn't want to show his face... anyways... proud of you charles_leclerc ]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, and 1,203,951 others

charles_leclerc: birthday break with the people i love before the us grand prix! still in shape and ready to win ❤️

tagged: arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, leclerc_pascale

view all 5,394 comments

danielricciardo: happy birthday mate! hope you had a good one ❤️

pierregasly: happy birthday bro

landonorris: why no invite brooo :(

carlossainz55: ^^

arthur_leclerc: man i look good

charles_leclerc: it's the genes

lorenzotl: you're welcome ♡︎

arthur_leclerc: ...

norrarijimin: WHY DIDN'T U TAG HER AHFSRHEAKRHESIJRB

leclercs: they're still soft launching for god's sake 😭💀

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, zendaya, and 5,938,214 others

yourusername: he wins in méxico, he wins in são paulo ♡︎ proud of you, meu lindo. proud of you, my beautiful.

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 100,392 comments

pierregasly: FINALLY

leclercs: LMAOOOO PIERRE

pierregasly: i thought i was going to die if i had to keep it a secret any longer 🤧

charles_leclerc: a for effort ig

charles_leclerc: thank you, chérie. thank you, sweetheart

ausnorris1: anyone checking up on ynbestgirl?

ynbestgirl: choosing to happily throw myself over a cliff rn.

norrarijimin: room for two?

ynbestgirl: ofc

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris, and 3,283,983 others

charles_leclerc: not that we've been hiding it but this is y/n, the love of my life. say hi y/n!

view all 13,078 comments

landonorris: hi y/n! yourusername

pierregasly: hi yourusername

danielricciardo: hiiiiiii yourusername

carlossainz55: hi! yourusername

yourusername: ...

yourusername: i have mixed feelings about this post

yourusername: what are these photos? 😭

charles_leclerc: what do you mean? they're my memories of you 😄

ynbestgirl: STOP IT CHARLES MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE yourusername liked this comment!

yourusername: ^

leclercs: and here lies ynbestgirl. y/n's biggest fan. passed on the 7th of november 2023 due to y/n herself

ynbestgirl: they do say never meet your heroes 😭

yourusername: i–

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[brynn-lear]

Prompt: Yandere!Dottore x Reader... But make it a House MD au. A/n: this idea has been rotting in my brain for such a long time... Yeah no I won't budge, Pantalone is our beloved Wilson lol. Word Count: 600 (this is a throwaway drabble)

You HATE working for Doctor Zandik’s diagnostic team.

No, that’s a lie. Everybody lies. You don’t hate working for him— you’ve grown desensitized.

The doctor’s “methods” are deeply rooted in misanthropy. Yet, his eloquent and annoyingly charming way persuasions act as a get-out-of-jail card for (most) instances of ethical and medical malpractices. Your colleagues, Dr. Sohreh & Dr. Krupp, remain equally tired of being in their positions. However, the Fontainian tragedy to all this is the screwed-up fact that none of you considered resigning. You three need him.

Krupp swallows his anger each time Zandik orders him to break into patients’ homes. As Zandik loves to remind the dean of medicine, there will be no ethics committee dilemma if all his people clean their tracks right. Why Pierro keeps him in his hospital despite being a significant liability to Morepesok Teaching Hospital? Your morals will never understand. Prioritizing genius over following proper procedure didn’t sit right with you. Then again, you were only hired because of your family’s connections, not merit…

Work for Zandik until you hate him; once that threshold is passed, work until you start vomiting out the evil you’ve done for the greater good. That’s the only thing other staff members had for advice. There’s nothing after step 2. Your soul WILL fight with your body. It was only when you started feeling bile rise to your throat on random occasions that you realized there must indeed be something broken in your psyche after years of working under him. You thought the advice was played out in dramatics. It wasn’t.

“(L/n), need a little help here,” Krupp called out as he rummaged through the patient’s trash. “Can you pass the gloves?”

After you did as told, you leaned by the patient’s piano. “Fever, fatigue, and a persistent cough. Standard symptoms for most of our patients, but—”

“This is Zandik.” Sohreh shakes her head, finding this situation wholly amusing. While you and Krupp scavenged through Zandik’s trash and forgotten candy wraps (he is unsurprisingly disorganized), she had her eyes set on his documents. “The patient is our boss. We just broke into our boss’s house like we’re actively pushing his own medicine down his throat.”

Pierro ordered you three in secret to investigate if Zandik has been ill, which opened the gates of let’s-all-break-into-his-house-for-fun for coworker bonding exercise. 

“What if this isn’t anything serious?” Krupp muttered, absolutely disgruntled. “Maybe we��re just overthinking this Zandik Is Sick conspiracy theory.”

“If it’s not serious, it’s boring.” You paused. “And he doesn’t do boring.”

Sohreh breathed in.

“Hey, guys? You might want to check this out.”

Upon hearing Sohreh’s grim tone, you and Krupp immediately grabbed the file she was holding and skimmed through it.

…

“This is his medical history. There’s blood work and imaging tests here… showing elevated white blood cells, and— a biopsy?” Krupp raised an eyebrow.

“Cancer,” Sohreh spoke, letting out the thoughts Krupp was too afraid to say. “He thinks he has cancer.”

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Sohreh and Krupp turned to look at you.

“What do you mean?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Look at the name.”

“What name?”

“Name of the patient.”

You let go of the file as Sohreh and Krupp eagerly found that they had somehow missed the person.

The two paled.

“(Y/n)—”

“It’s mine.” You sighed. “Those are my tests. I’ve been hiding it from the rest of the staff except Doctor Pantalone from Onco.”

“You have—”

“But why?” You looked down, unsure as to how you felt.

“Why does Zandik have these files?”

[sassenach77yle]

“You thought you were dying when we brought you up here, didn’t you?” I asked. My voice sounded more bewildered than accusing. It took him a moment to answer, though he didn’t look hesitant. It was more as though he was looking for the proper words. “Well, I didna ken for sure, no,” he said slowly. “Though I did feel verra ill.” His eyes closed, slowly, as though he were too tired to keep them open. “I still do,” he added, in a detached sort of voice.

“Ye needna worry, though—I’ve made my choice.”

“What on earth do you mean by that?” I groped beneath the covers, and found his wrist. He was warm; hot again, in fact, and with a pulse that was too fast, too shallow. Still, it was so different from the deathly chill I had felt in him the night before that my first reaction was relief. He took a couple of deep breaths, then turned his head and opened his eyes to look at me. “I mean I could have died last night.” He could, certainly—and yet that wasn’t what he meant. He made it sound like a conscious— “What do you mean you’ve made your choice? You’ve decided not to die, after all?” I tried to speak lightly, but it wasn’t working very well. I remembered all too well that odd sense of timeless stillness that had surrounded us. “It was verra strange,” he said. “And yet it wasna strange at all.” He sounded faintly surprised.

“I think,” I said carefully, keeping a thumb on his pulse, “you’d better tell me just what happened.” He actually smiled at that, though the smile was more in his eyes than his lips. Those were dry, and painfully cracked in the corners. I touched his lips with a finger, wanting to go and fetch some soothing ointment for him, some water, some tea—but I put aside the impulse, steeling myself to stay and hear. “I dinna really know, Sassenach—or rather, I do, but I canna think quite how to say it.” He still looked tired, but his eyes stayed open. They lingered on my face, a vivid blue in the morning light, with an expression almost of curiosity, as though he hadn’t seen me before.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, softly. “So verra beautiful, mo chridhe.”

My hands were covered with fading blue blotches and overlooked smears of buffalo blood, I could feel my hair clinging in unwashed tangles to my neck, and I could smell everything from the stale-urine odor of dye to the reek of fear-sweat on my body. And yet whatever he saw lit his face as though he were looking at the full moon on a summer night, pure and lovely. His eyes stayed fixed on my face as he talked, absorbed, moving slightly as they seemed to trace my features. “I felt verra badly indeed when Arch and Roger Mac brought me up,” he said. “Terribly sick, and my leg and my head both throbbing with each heartbeat, so much that I began to dread the next. And so I would listen to the spaces between. Ye wouldna think it,” he said, sounded vaguely surprised, “but there is a great deal of time between the beats of a heart.” He had, he said, begun to hope, in those spaces, that the next beat would not come. And slowly, he realized that his heart was indeed slowing—and that the pain was growing remote, something separate from himself. His skin had grown colder, the fever fading from both body and mind, leaving the latter oddly clear. “And this is where I canna really say, Sassenach.” He pulled his wrist from my grip in the intensity of his story, and curled his fingers over mine. “But I . . . saw.” “Saw what?” And yet I already knew that he couldn’t tell me. Like any doctor, I had seen sick people make up their minds to die—and I knew that look they sometimes had; eyes wide-fixed on something in the distance. He hesitated, struggling to find words. I thought of something, and jumped in to try to help. “There was an elderly woman,” I said. “She died in the hospital where I was on staff—all her grown children with her, it was very peaceful.” I looked down, my own eyes fixed on his fingers, still red and slightly swollen, interlaced with my own stained and bloody digits. “She died—she was dead, I could see her pulse had stopped, she wasn’t breathing. All her children were by her bedside, weeping. And then, quite suddenly, her eyes opened. She wasn’t looking at any of them, but she was seeing something. And she said, quite clearly, ‘Oooh!’ Just like that—thrilled, like a little girl who’s just seen something wonderful. And then she closed her eyes again.” I looked up at him, blinking back tears. “Was it—like that?” He nodded, speechless, and his hand tightened on mine. “Something like,” he said, very softly. He had felt oddly suspended, in a place he could by no means describe, feeling completely at peace—and seeing very clearly. “It was as if there was a—it wasna a door, exactly, but a passageway of some kind—before me. And I could go through it, if I wanted. And I did want to,” he said, giving me a sideways glance and a shy smile. He had known what lay behind him, too, and realized that for that moment, he could choose. Go forward—or turn back. “And that’s when you asked me to touch you?” “I knew ye were the only thing that could bring me back,” he said simply. “I didna have the strength, myself.” There was a huge lump in my throat; I couldn’t speak, but squeezed his hand very tight. “Why?” I asked at last. “Why did you . . . choose to stay?” My throat was still tight, and my voice was hoarse. He heard it, and his hand tightened on mine; a ghost of his usual firm grip, and yet with the memory of strength within it. “Because ye need me,” he said, very softly. “Not because you love me?” He looked up then, with a shadow of a smile.

“Sassenach . . . I love ye now, and I will love ye always. Whether I am dead—or you—whether we are together or apart. You know it is true,” he said quietly, and touched my face. “I know it of you, and ye know it of me as well.”

He bent his head then, the bright hair swinging down across his cheek. “I didna mean only you, Sassenach. I have work still to do. I thought—for a bit—that perhaps it wasna so; that ye all might manage, with Roger Mac and auld Arch, Joseph and the Beardsleys. But there is war coming, and—for my sins—” he grimaced slightly, “I am a chief.” He shook his head slightly, in resignation. “God has made me what I am. He has given me the duty—and I must do it, whatever the cost.”

“The cost,” I echoed uneasily, hearing something harsher than resignation in his voice. He looked at me, then glanced, almost off-handed, toward the foot of the bed. “My leg’s no much worse,” he said, matter-of-factly, “but it’s no better. I think ye’ll have to take it off.”

The fiery cross

[lizzieislife94x]

Professor Maximoff (w.m)

Wanda G!PxFem Reader

legal age gap y/n is 22 and lizzie is lets say 28

Just a little update to keep the book updated requests are open always Also over 10k reads holy shit I didn't think that many would see this 😳 but thank you (the fact this was the 10k read mark originally and then the whole book got removed at 700k reads still hurts my heart lmfao)

 Y/ns POV: 

"Hey can I have an iced coffee please" I say to the woman serving me "that will be $4 please and ill get your coffee right away" I smile and hand over the money as I wait for my drink after a minute she hands me my drink I smile and say thank you as I head out the store I pull my phone out to check the time and notice I'm later for my first class fuck I have professor Maximoff this morning I've already been later twice this week she's gonna kill me, she is intimidating but I can't help but drool over her every day in class she's fucking perfect and always wears these suits that do things to me I'm snapped out of my thoughts by my phone dinging I quickly look at the screen and see a text from my best friend Natasha. 

Nat<3: Dude you better get here ASAP maximoff is looking at your empty seat with an annoyed look, youre gonna be in so much shit get here like now! 

Fuck fuck fuck 

Me: Shit I had to get coffee I'm on campus ill be there in 5 minutes try and stall for me make up an excuse or something on my way. 

I take a few sips of my coffee and throw it in the trash as I run through the halls like a madman towards professor maximoffs class after a 2 minutes of sprinting I pull the door open and bend over trying to get my breath back "I'm...so..sorry I'm late professor " I say panting as I walk towards my desk I hate being in the front she's gonna stare me down "miss l/n this is your 3rd time late this week I'm not impressed you have detention" she says in a cold tone "I'm I'm really sorry my alarm didn't go off" I lie with a whisper looking down at my desk "no excuses y/n you're a grown girl youre big enough to make sure you arrive on time, open your book to page 60 and read ill deal with you later" she hisses as I pull my book out and start reading I can't help but feel sad for some reason as if I've let her down

looks like I'll actually be reading today I can't bare to look at her I don't wanna see the disappointment in her eyes, I continue to read until professor maximoff hands some tests out "pop quiz I hope you guys took in what we learned last week" fuck of course I didn't I was drooling over her I'm in so much shit "Nat you have to help me I can't remember what we where studying last week" I whisper leaning over to Nat "you need to stop having little fantasies about maximoff and start paying attention in class y/n but I'll try my best to help" she whisper shouts at me great Nat is pissed at me maximoff is pissed at me I sigh and grab my pen as I begin to read over the test paper "A, C, C, B, A, A" Nat whisper as I quickly circle the answers half way there I can do this "miss romanoff can you go to room 336 and get the books for next week please" I hear professor maximoff say out loud as I look up at her then at Nat with a pleading look "of course professor" Nat says as she stands up to leave, fuck fuck fuck I'm screwed I just have to guess the last 6 after 15 minutes I put my pen down and sigh as I lean my elbows on the desk and over my face with my hands "miss l/n get your work done no time for breaks" I move my hands slightly and look at her "I'm done professor" I say with an icy tone full of attitude "less of the attitude miss l/n and bring your test over anymore of that and ill give you detention all next week do you understand me" she states blatantly

I walk over to her desk and hand her the test "I understand professor maximoff I'm sorry" I say looking down "go and sit at your desk quietly don't disturb the rest of the class" I nod and walk back to my desk and sit for a bit as the bell rings I go to get up to leave "y/n sit you have detention for the next 2 hours" wait how did she know she's not even looking up she's marking the tests "yeah of course sorry" I say as I sit back down the classroom soon empty "grab a chair and come sit beside me you can help sort this paperwork" I just stand and grab my chair walking to her desk as I sit she looks at me for a minute studying me "what's going on with you why are you late so often, why are you giving attitude in class" she says as she places her hand on mine making me freeze "I uh I um I've not been sleeping great I'm sorry and I snapped because you where being rude and im tired I'm sorry" I say looking down she grips my chin pulling my face up to look at her "you need to start behaving y/n" she says with a tone I haven't heard, I feel my heart pound as a little moan escapes at the action she just did "I fuck..I'll um try professor"

she bites her lip as her thumb gently rubs my chin slowly moving up to pull my bottom lip slightly "you can't be making those cute little sounds y/n or you'll make it harder to keep my cool around you, you have no idea how much I wanna fuck that attitude out of you" I let out another moan feeling the pool form in my panties I don't know what came over me before I know it I'm climbing into her lap straddling her "maybe that's what I need someone to fuck the attitude out of me" I whisper into her ear making her groan I slightly grind into her to get comfortable but feel something hard forming, uh fuck she has a dick the thought alone makes me drip in an instant I'm bent over her desk with my skirt up around my waist "fuck y/n you drive me crazy it's been so hard to keep my cool I can't help but watch you walk around in these little skirts day In day out" she whispers into my ear as my panties are pulled off "fuck professor maximoff I've been so naughty I need you to fuck me hard" I whimper as I hear her pants being unzipped she spreads my legs and moans at the view I can't help but feel a little shy as she stares at me my cunt dripping I quickly cover my mouth and scream as I feel her sink deep inside me "uhhh fuck princess so tight for mommy" I moan and nod looking round "fuck to big mommy I I can't" I breath out as she leans over making me moan at the sudden movements "you can do it kitten shhh you're being so good for mommy I promise it will feel good in a minute" she moans rubbing my shoulders as I feel her thrusting slowly I can't help but moan "so good so good" I whimper as her hands run down my body to my hips as she increases her thrusts "uhhhhh fuck fuck fuckkkk"

I moan louder as she starts to pound into me harder slamming her full length deep inside me hitting my gspot repeatedly "if I ever hear another bit of attitude coming from that pretty mouth I'll fuck it out of you kitten" she moans thrusting harder "well looks...like...I'm gonna have an attitude..every...everyday" I moan out as I feel my orgasm approach "I'm gonna I'm uhhh" I scream as I cum making professor maximoff groan at the sensation she doesn't stop she only gets faster pounding my cunt relentlessly "fuck this pussy is mine do you understand " she moans I lay spread across her desk unable to form words as she pounds me over and over I feel the second orgasm hit me as she groans "fuck kitten your walls are  squeezing me so fucking good you're doing amazing give me one more" she moans as she keeps her thrusts going I can't help but whimper and drool all over her desk it feels so fucking good but I swear I'm gonna pass out "gonna...cum mommy...I " my eyes roll as she slams deep inside me cumming deep inside me as I cum all over her cock she leans her body on mine moaning into my ear "fuck kitten I've never came like that before you're such a good girl for mommy" I whimper and nod "only for you mommy" I pant trying to get my breath back as she slides out and I stand up fixing my skirt as I feel my legs shaking "I'm keeping these" she smirks holding up my panties putting them into her pocket making me bite my lip "I can't wait for monday" I smirk as I walk away on shaky legs not saying anything else. 

AN: I think I'm going to do a part 2 of this in the next hour of the events of the weekend requests are open haha stay hydrated people word count is 1.6k 

[onyourfifi]

december 3rd | park jisung

❆ | pairing : crush!jisung x fem!reader

❆ | genre : fluff, shy jisung trying to give you his sweater

❆ | word count : 1027 (queue sticker by nct 127)

❆ | note : haechan and chenle are mentioned as friends

december was quickly approaching. you and your friends were hanging out at a cafe. the frost was creeping at the edges of the window and you could see soft snowflakes fall from the clouds.

"are you guys excited for december 3rd?" haechan asks, giggling.

"wait whats going on?" jisung asks.

"oh he's talking about that one song... how does it go..." you start but you get interrupted by haechan's singing.

"i still remember the third of december, me in your sweater~"

"okay okay we get it, you know the song" chenle says, rolling his eyes.

you all laugh and continue to talk about something else, but jisung stays a little quieter than usual.

▬▬▬

December 3

December 3 is national give your gf/bf/partner one of your sweaters day :)

▬▬▬

jisung has had a crush on you ever since you met. haechan introduced you guys for the first time and he fell for you so hard. you were friendly and energetic all the time. jisung, on the other hand, was a lot more quiet than you. he had a hard time talking to you. he never thought you had the same feelings for him.

all of his friends could notice his huge crush on you. they always teased him about it when you weren't there. when you two were together, they would always try to push jisung towards you or hint at the idea. you never seemed to catch on.

"our baby jisungie gets so shy~" chenle teases.

"jisung you gotta tell her dude. i can't keep seeing you freeze up and panic every time you talk to her” haechan pleads.

"i can't do it, she’s nothing like me. how am i supposed to confess to her. you said it yourself, i can barely talk to her" jisung explains. he truly thinks he has no chance with you.

"don't say that. i'm sure you'll find the right moment, you just gotta be patient" chenle says.

december 3rd was that moment. he knew it.

that's what i should do, ill give her one of my sweaters, jisung thought. but how is he supposed pull that off. he can barely talk to you without blushing let alone give you his hoodie. he was gonna find a way. he was gonna make you his some way or another.

your friends meet up on the 3rd at a christmas market. you guys planned to walk around a bit and buy some gifts for your families. jisung had plans of his own.

"jisung, why do you have such a big bag, what do you have in there-?" chenle asks.

"o-oh it’s nothing, don't worry about it"

"imagine it's a sweater" haechan teases.

"what? how did you- i mean, i don't know what you're talking about"

haechan and chenle locked eyes. they knew exactly what he was talking about.

"heyyy jisung why don't you go see what y/n is up to" haechan pushes jisung towards you subtly.

"wait what no, what are you guys doing-"

as you were looking at the handmade ornaments, you felt a soft bump on your back. you look back to see panicked jisung and haechan and chenle running away laughing.

"oh hi jisung! there you are, i was just thinking about you."

"oh me...?"

"of course you, here wait, look at this pretty ornament, should i get this for my mom?"

"actually i wanted to talk to you about something, can we walk for a bit?"

"yeah of course!"

you start walking down the park. it’s snowing again. you looks over at jisung, his cheeks were flushed with a light shade of pink and small snowflakes were scattered across his hair. you could see him trembling, but you assumed it was because of the cold.

"so… it’s december 3rd," jisung was so nervous. his hands were trembling and his voice was shakey. i can’t believe i’m doing this.

"yeah it is! christmas is upon us!”

"yup." what kind of response was that?? c’mon park jisung, keep it together.

you could feel the tension in the air. he never comes and talks to you alone. he had something planned, didn't he?

you stop walking and turn towards him. you look up. he was avoiding eye contact. he couldn’t say anything. he could only stand there.

"so, what did you want to tell me"

"oh uh well, y'know how it's december 3rd and uhm, i searched about the date online and saw you had to give your sweater to your partner and well uhm..."

"sungie... are you about to give me a sweater?"

"how could you tell...?" jisung has never felt so warm in the winter air.

"well, you've been a lot more shy around me lately, the avoiding eye contact, your quiet voice, and how could i not notice all the teasing from haechan and chenle" you laugh. jisung tried to cover his face in embarrassment, but you pulled them away. "you're so cute jisung, how could i not like you"

jisung finally made eye contact with you. he couldn't believe what he heard. you loved him too, just like he loved you. he couldn't help but stare and smile.

"sungie, the sweater," you giggle.

"oh right, sorry"

he pulls out a soft black hoodie. you recognized it. it was his favourite sweater.

"it took me so long to pick a sweater for you. i didn't know what you liked"

"if it's from you, then it's perfect."

you take off your jacket and immediately pull the hoodie over your head to put it on. the hoodie dropped down past your waist and the sleeves hung past your hands. it smelled like him, his love.

"you look so pretty..." jisung says without any hesitation.

you laugh, "thank you jisung"

jisung pulls you into a hug, his hands wrapped around your waist. you can feel all his love for you that has been kept inside him drain from his body into yours. he pulls away from you a little and presses his forehead on yours.

"no, thank you."

in the back, you can hear faint cheering from chenle and haechan.

"wah our jisungie is no longer a baby~!"

"oh shut up!"

a/n : first longer fic!! didnt think i would be able to do it but here i am lolz. also, im totally not wishing i get a sweater :D (someone give me one plz).

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

~

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

~

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

~

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

[cherry-jamm]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

・❥・ You had no clue he was alive, but he didn’t know that

・❥・word count: 2k

・❥・warnings: mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse, ANGST, LOOSELY based off one scene from tsitp, my own hc of pre-vamp Astarion

・❥・ Has anyone else seen that one tsitp edit to Sign of the Times? No? Also it occurred to me that now 2/3 fics I’ve posted on this platform are about vampires, lord I fear I have a type, also also, let’s just pretend Astarion can remember his life pre-vamp, just pretend for me thank yewwwww

You adored your best friend more than words could describe. Anyone could tell how you admired him, just from how you looked at him. Astarion had always been very handsome, you struggled to look away from his gorgeously tanned skin, and his platinum curls. Your eyes caught on the strong curve of his nose and the way the sun highlighted his brown eyes. But he was more than just his appearance. He was clever and too charming for his own good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion would ask, his voice tinged with a teasing playfulness.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” ‘Like you’re in love with me’ is what he failed to say, but the message rang clear. The air thickened. You shrugged, eyes never breaking from his. He smiled and shook his head, the slightest bit of pink forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For all that you adored him, Astarion would worship you.

Then one day, you stopped seeing Astarion. He didn’t show up to the cafe you two had planned on meeting at, perhaps he had fallen ill. He stopped showing up to work, a spontaneous vacation he had forgotten to tell you of in advance, possibly. He wasn’t home, everything had been just as it was left no longer than a week ago. A thin layer of dust covered the house, completely undisturbed. Another week had passed before you got closure.

“This is (y/n) (l/n)?” A large man asked. He had knocked at your door late at night, a heavy hood over his eyes. You hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “You were close with Astarion Ancunin correct?” He asked.

“Correct.” You replied slowly, your curiosity peaked, along with your worry, anything could have happened to your best friend, he could be anywhere.

“I’m here on behalf of Cazador Szarr, to inform you of Astarion’s passing.” He nodded coolly as if he hadn’t just delivered the worst news one could deliver.

“How?” Your voice was quieter than you wished it to be.

“He was murdered on Cazador’s estate. We’ve been unable to determine who killed him, but we are working diligently to bring him to justice.” The hooded man assured. Tears welled in your eyes, your throat closed in on itself. You nodded quickly and closed the door once the man had left.

You never saw Astarion’s body. It was a morbid thought, sure. To wish to see the mutilated corpse of your best friend was a sentiment not shared by many. You assumed his body had already been handed off, most likely to his parents. Oh Gods, you wonder if his mother has seen the cold mangled body of her young son. You’d have to check on her eventually. You wonder if he was handled with care. Did the hooded man carry Astarion in his arms to pass him onto his father? Or was he perhaps shipped in a cramped box, tossed on their doorstep with no regard to the remains of the young boy, who had so much life ahead of him?

You lost track of how long you mourned. You would never see him again. You’d never hear his voice, look into his beautiful brown eyes. You missed him so bad it would keep you up at night, your head hurt from staying awake so long, yet your chest hurt from the idea of falling asleep and having a singular moment of not thinking of him.

After a while, you finally started to allow yourself to rest. After that, you began letting yourself enjoy things. You started getting invited to large parties hosted by Cazador, as some effort to apologize for the tragedy that had befallen your closest friend on his property. A cold case as it had been declared after almost a month. You attended a few, you couldn’t help but be made uncomfortable by the atmosphere, the guests seemed off, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched every time you set foot near Cazador’s palace, for no particular reason. Perhaps it was Astarion’s ghost keeping watch over you.

It had been your first time leaving Baldur’s Gate in years. Except for a short trip to your and Astarion’s parents you had taken a few weeks after his death, you hadn’t left in the many years since his untimely demise. You still remember that trip vividly, the smell of the countryside, and how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells to avoid speaking of the no-longer-present boy.

You weren’t doing anything particularly important on this trip, simply looking around at whatever there was to find. You had found your way to a busy market, scents of fresh bread and lavender and bright silky fabrics overwhelmed your senses when one thing caught your attention. A head of platinum curls. The head turned towards you and you swear you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was him, Astarion, undoubtedly. He’s changed, barely recognizable if you hadn’t known him like the back of your hand. You felt like you would be sick, seeing the dead boy clearly not dead. His once sun-kissed skin was now a ghastly shade of white. Cinnamon brown eyes now ran a shade of red, dark as blood. It was jarring, seeing the boy you once loved so suddenly in such a vastly different state. Yet, his nose remained the same, as did his high cheekbones, his hair hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps it was a bit messier now.

“Astarion!” You yelled before you could stop yourself. Your feet carried you to him as if it was second nature to be as close to him as possible. “Astarion!” His head turned towards you, his ruby red eyes giving you a once over before widening in surprise. You saw him take a step back, like a scared dog. You stopped running, only a few steps away from him. “How? How are you here right now?”

“I’m sorry who are you?” He asks. His eyes tell exactly what his mouth won’t, the same way they always have. He knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t play dumb.” You start, he flinches away. “You know who I am.” A few people look over at him, friends you presume. You inspect each of them, what a team he’s gathered. One of the few, a rather tall tiefling walks up to you with her fists clenched. As she approached it was like heat radiated off of her. She was about to open her mouth when a man who seemed rather keen on minding his own business stopped her. She continued glaring. “We need to talk.” You hissed to the man in front of you.

“Whatever it is that you want, I can’t provide.” His voice shook ever so slightly. Anger rose in you, he had left for 200 years and been presumed dead only to reappear and act as if he was scared of you.

“Astarion.” You said, warning in your tone. Silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. “We need to talk.” You repeated. “Alone.” You could only imagine how you looked to his friends at the moment, a strange person running towards Astarion and insisting on privacy for a conversation. You hardly cared at the moment, too lost in inspecting every curve and line of your best friend’s face. After a second he looked towards the group and nodded them away wordlessly, he held the gaze of the tiefling a second longer.

“Well, guide the way.” He said in a faux confident manner. You huffed and turned on your heel. You lead him away from the bustle of the market, somewhere you two were ensured privacy. You found yourself near a murky pond, shaded by trees, and inhabited by large bullfrogs. Just as it became most important for you to speak, you felt your throat close up. Your mouth ran dry as you looked at him.

“I thought you were dead.” Your voice held a mixture of anger and hurt. You felt tears sting your eyes and you tried to blink them away.

“You’ve done quite enough, you don’t need to lie to me now.” He said. His eyes were wider now, his lips were pressed in a thin line. In stark contrast to the confident way he had held himself around his companions.

“I- what?” You asked breathlessly.

“I said you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You have some nerve.” Astarion started. He pointed an accusatory finger at you, his face now flushed red. “Coming after me after Gods know how long, only to pretend you didn’t see me at my worst? When I was nothing more than Cazador’s spawn. You disregarded me then, why do you think you have the right to crawl back to me now.”

You felt hot tears dare to fall out of your eyes at his seemingly unwarranted anger. He looked at you like you were nothing but a monster. “Cazador’s spawn?” You repeated quietly. “You mean you- you’re-” You sputtered. You felt like the air had been punched from your chest.

“A vampire?” He scoffed. “You really should stop acting clueless, it’s hard to watch.”

“I am clueless.” You shot back immediately. “I had no idea, I-I thought you were dead. I heard the news that you had been murdered.” Tears fell down your cheeks and dripped down your chin before you could stop them. You sucked in a harsh breath. “If I had known you were alive I would’ve fought for you.” Your hands reached out to his chest, you didn’t know if you were trying to push him away or bring him closer.

“What?”

“Fought for you! I would’ve fought for you, through everything. I would’ve been there for you!” You sobbed.

“I thought you knew!” His hands found yours on his chest. His skin was ice cold and you almost hissed from the temperature change. “Cazador had told me you knew."

"You think I would've just abandoned you?" You cried, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt.

"You were at the parties!"

"And I had no idea you were there!" You insisted. Your salty tears clung to your lashes, and your throat hurt from yelling. "You should've told me!"

"How? How would I have told you?" His crimson eyes bore into yours.

"I don't know! I just wish I could've been there for you! I would've helped you, no matter what." Your voice broke off as you cried. Astarion didn't cry, he barely made an expression as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.” He still didn’t make much of an expression.

“You should go.” He said after a beat of silence.

“W-what?”

“I said you should go, anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Astarion.”

“Well I don’t want you here.” He insisted.

“Why not?” Your voice raised.

“Because if you stay any longer I think I’ll fall back in love with you.” His voice was quiet and collected. Your voice died in your throat.

“Fall back in love?” You murmured, as if speaking it too loudly would make it untrue. “You were in love with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked away from you. He took a step back. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I was. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Cazador,” he spit the name with enough venom to burn right through you. “told me that he had told you about my… transformation, offered me to you as a warm, or cold, body, and you declined. He said you simply didn’t wish to see me anymore, that you were glad to never speak to me again.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Which is a?”

“Lie.” You finished for him. “I was told that you had died. Cazador had one of his men tell me you had been murdered. I was too lost in grief to question any further. Clearly I should have.” You laughed humorlessly. “I mourned you. Everyday. For years.”

“You did?”

“I did.” You sighed. “And I did it because I loved you. With everything I had.” Awkward stillness came once again. “Can I kiss you-” You were cut off by feeling Astarion’s cold hands grab your cheeks softly and pull you into a short, tender kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He laughed airily.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For not being there.” He took a deep breath.

“Well… you’re here now.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving.” You finished

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

[k9iriz]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡

requested.

𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴...𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.

“who-who is it??....its...rhea ripley!” they announced as rhea unmasked herself...new hair color, new attitude, new everything.

you sat and watched it all unfold. people stared at you, knowing you’d have something to say...but you honestly didn’t.

would this mean she would start acting different towards me?

who knew? you played with the promise ring on your finger as you sat by the gorilla, waiting for your next...match. 

you sighed as you knew this time you’d be soaking in ice water, in a tub.

after rhea joined, she rained havoc on the women’s division, with the judgement day with along the man who let her join, edge. 

constantly getting put in squash matches since she turned on you, causing her to act totally different.

l she watched you get beat up by the girls every week and watched, even laughed at you for being so...weak.

“she might’ve been in character but...that’s her actual girlfriend, she should be ashamed of herself.” bianca sighed, watching rhea laugh and walk past alexa, auska and you, just eyeing you down, like you weren’t there.

that group gave her a bigger head than she should have.

but you were a face and she was a heel. so it wouldn’t make sense for her to help you.

“oh hi.” rhea walked up to me, making me mentally roll my eyes, with the judgement day.

i was personally sick of them, but something ticked inside of me to put my character on.

“what do you want ripley?” you rolled your eyes, fixing your jacket, turning towards her as you were met with four unpleased humans, laughing at you.

“wow? i thought my name was demi?” rhea faked gasped, making me look at her.

“anyways, we have a match tonight. and seeing you getting beat over the weeks made us think...why can’t you...let us, teach you a thing or two about setting your place here in the division.” rhea offered, mentally smirking at the mind games she was starting to play.

“you seem like a good additon for us, you got it all. you need to set your place and stop getting ragged around all the time...i mean. that’s if you got the strength too..ever since i dropped you.” rhea bragged, laughing at the last part.

that hurt. bad.

“look. i don’t wanna hear it rhea. im not joining your group at all, and for the millionth time, you don’t have to keep bringing that up.” you whispered the last part, you came out of character at this point. her words got personal.

before rhea could argue, rey and edge stood behind me as if they were gonna make a move, making me feel better. 

i joined them for redemption against rhea because we al had scores to settle with the judgement day.

rhea chuckled. “how about this. if i win, you’d have to join the judgement day, if you lose...you can stay with whoever your siding with. but ill win for sure.” rhea said.

you took her up on her offer.

“deal. now get out there. you talk too much.” you hushed rhea, making rey & edge follow behind.

she even played a part into me being terrorized.

pent up anger & betrayal flashed your head, and the neglect you got outside of work was ringing in your head like crazy as you walked out.

the match began as rhea stood across the ring, ready to claim her win tonight. with the judgement day on her side.

you had no advantage.

which irked you. 

rhea tossed me recklessly around the ring, yelling hurtful words as i played defense against her, getting my higher ups, but following her soonly hurting my ankle.

it was in so much pain as she attacked that spot every chance she got, making it physically impossible for me to stand on it...

but i fought through the pain.

i caught rhea yelling at the ref about the count, running over at her before hitting my finishing move, rolling her up as i got the three count, the audience was so pleased.

i felt like i actually accomplished something, not only beating my girlfriend, but the men started fighting on the outside as me and rhea rolled out, causing me to sneak as grab a kendo stick, rhea running in to low-blow edge, as they stood tall after they attacked rey and edge sucessfully.

forgetting about me.

i stood behind rhea as i had that...snap of rage inside.

staring at her with the fuel behind my eyes..i just wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt me...

i hit rhea hard in the back, making her fall onto the ground, her back welted with the kendo stick...making me...smile.

at the pain i had caused on her.

the thoughts came back. i blacked out. i hit her so recklessly with the kendo stick...with that betrayal, anger and hurt that she had caused on me.

the judgement day didn’t even stop me. they just watched...

then i stopped, staring at the three men that stared at rhea’s aching, struggling body as they smiled.

smiled.

before damian could speak, i snatched the mic from him, before towering over my now...ex-girlfriends body.

“even if i didn’t lose...you were getting replaced anyways.” you shrugged, with the most sadistic smile on your face.

“we don’t need you anymore.” i dropped the mic before throwing it.

you did it. you turned on her. you didn’t even unite with the men. you were too far hurt to see fit.

the tables had turned and you had given her that same pain she gave to you.

but it was more personal than a tv heel turn.

you sat in the locker room, you felt happy for getting revenge but...it still didn’t feel right.

you sat with your ankle, icing it, hissing before i sobbed sliently.

your head wasn’t on straight. you felt like it wasn’t enough. rhea was mean, rude, and careless and spent time with others instead of you & it broke your heart.

you acted on revenge and wanted her to feel the pain you did...even though it was half personal between you two.

your head sunk into your lap, struggling to stand up, as the door creeked, hearing it close, and seeing someone sit next to you.

it was rhea.

“you’re so lucky i can’t move.” you mumbled, rolling your eyes before she wiped your tears that ran down your face.

she felt so bad.

it took for you to turn heel for her to understand...it was karma biting her back.

all the things she said, how she treated you so bad, you felt alone, even at work. a place where you two wanted to be together & promised it.

you felt that promise ring was a walking joke.

“even if you did, you wouldn’t hit me.” rhea chuckled lightly, as she grabbed your ankle, slowly helping you ice it.

the silence took over as i blushed lightly, feeling bad about what happened, btu seeing her actually doing something made her smile.

“i hate seeing you like this.” rhea muttered.

“im sorry. it still wouldn’t fix how i let things get to my head. i can’t blame anything but myself for letting you feel like you were alone.”

“even if i fucked up the one promise...was to marry you. i don’t blame you for wanting to throw it at me.” rhea shrugged, sniffling some tears away, all i did was listen to her. and i finally got what i wanted.

was to see her mistake. and to fix it. but with a taste of her own medicine.

“god i hate this shit.” rhea shook her head, sitting your ankle on the chair before putting the ice pack back on it as she let her thoughts take over.

“come back. im listening love.” i looked at her, as your face softened for her, as you frowned, seeing her cry.

she wasn’t the best at expressing herself, but letting the guilt over the months eat her up once again.

she had to realize it wasn’t about her.

“you don’t wanna speak to me right now, and i sure as hell can’t see you hurt. it-its painful.” rhea silently choked out, you couldn’t do anything but hug her, limping of course.

“you don’t need to explain. i listened to you. i forgive you.”

                                                            - words of betrayal.

[venusrising91]

King Lee

Pairing: Wonho x Female reader (+ brief mention of Wonho x Male)

Genre: Smut ( no plot in sight lol, just something short to read before bed )

Summary: Powerful and handsome; King Lee beds many concubines. Though he grows bored of them after a single night. Will you be any different?

Word count: 1074

T/W: DubCon

The king's lust was rumored to be insatiable. He never called upon the same concubine. 

Each night there was a new face in his bedchamber, a new body to ravish. Tonight he would bed a young man— lean and muscular with a face even the prettiest maiden envied. Surely he would be the one to leave the king smitten, to break his unending streak of never repeating conquests. You were certain of it. 

His name was Delios and his rank was low, just a courtier. But his bottom was plump and his abdomen taut. You’d attended to him days ago in the baths, cleansing the smooth golden skin, stealing glances at the nude flesh when you thought he wasn’t looking. He caught you of course.

    “You needn't be shy of staring, I know it well, how I look,” he’d said, a haughty raise of a black eyebrow flashing above his hazel eyes. “I am a work of art, they say. The king will never tire of me. After this night, you’ll see much of me here, so look all you wish.”

You had been too shy to respond. It was not your place anyway. You were just a servant girl. But his boasts were valid enough, after all, many of the nobles and courtiers desired him. The servants too. Why shouldn’t he satisfy King Lee’s appetite? He was neither dull nor plain, like many of the lovers that filtered through his royal bed. The king liked beautiful things. And Delios was the most winsome man you’d known of.

Later that night, you escorted him to the king's bedchamber and waited to be dismissed, eyes glued to the floor, head down.

 King Lee waltzed into the room and with a wave of his hand you were relieved of your duty. 

The moans started before you’d even made it down the hallway. You paused and pressed your ear against the walls. The slapping of flesh against flesh could be heard even through the wood.

"Yes my king! Fuck me. Fill me. I am yours.” Delios’ breathy pleas and mewls spilled into the corridors, echoing in your head as you made your way to your quarters. 

Above your bed was the servant’s bell. You glanced at it, content in the knowledge that it would not ring tonight. Delios would keep the king busy well into the morning, and perhaps even the next night. You closed your eyes and welcomed sleep.

But short hours later, the shrill sound of its ringing woke you.

You sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed, slipping the servant’s uniform over yourself.

King Lee’s back faced you as you entered his chamber, broad and like the cream of ivory. Delios was nowhere in sight.

“Remove these sheets, bring new ones,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied. And then without thinking you said, “Delios? Was he not pleasurable?” Your breath caught in your throat as your sleep stupid brain registered what you’d just done. The king whipped around to glare at you. He would be well within jurisdiction to flog you for insolence. His gaze flitted over you, lingered on your face, then trailed down to your uniform. You wanted to kick yourself.

“Not only have you spoken out of turn. But you come to me in ill attire?”

You wrinkled your brow.

“Sir?”

“Your uniform. It is on backwards.”

You flushed in shame, heat rising in your eyes.

“I am sorry, please. It was—”

“Take it off.”

Shock and silence merged to form your panicked expression.

“But my lord I—”

“I will not say it again.” The king fixed his brown eyes on you, burning you through with their intensity. He had never looked at you before— never saw you as he did now. His intent gaze had you shivering.

You stripped and he regarded you for a moment. Decided he liked what was before him.  His hands were on you in an instant, kneading circles against your breasts. He bent and suckled one.

You gasped.

“My l-lord. You mustn’t—”

“Do not presume to command me. You are a servant. Are you not?”

A sheepish nod.

“I am.”

“Then serve me. With your body. For it pleases me—lowly though it may be. Is it not your duty? Your wish?”

Another nod. Your words couldn’t quite find their way out. The king smirked then, plump lips parting in ridicule. You pressed a kiss into them, unable to resist their plush temptation. 

Quickly you drew back, panting and somehow even more shy than you had been. But the king smiled and granted you his tongue. It swirled first along the bud of your nipple, cries escaped you as it puckered under the wet muscle.

King Lee lifted you, transferring your willing body onto his bed and spreading you. He tasted your slick, launching hard sucks around your bundle of nerves.

You could not hold back your whimpers. He paused and looked up at you.

“Do you want more?”

Again all you could manage was a nod.

“Whoever heard of a needy servant girl,” he chided, still licking you, “Very well then, open wider for me, darling.”

You lost count of the hours—of the orgasms. All from his mouth alone. When he had his fill, he flipped you over. The strokes were deep and glorious. The stretch of them sent your eyes rolling back.

“A needy servant with a needier cunt. Tell me, do you like being filled by your king?” A hard slap on your bare cheeks galvanized you to answer.

“Yes!” you cried, still in half disbelief the noble king was bedding you— a lowly servant.

He flipped you onto your back, thrusting into you, eyes holding you in a trance. The roll of his hips drew out your spray. His rhythm was unrelenting and the hot stream of it drenched the king's sculpted abdomen. He pulled out and watched you tremble with the high, rubbing circles onto your clit, drawing out every bit of your release.

“Look at you, fucked to ruins already. I’ve hardly even begun,” he taunted. All you could do was tremble and shudder.

“Please, my lord. No more. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he echoed, laying beside you, smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I cannot come again. I will pass out. It has been all night.”

“So it has,” he thumbed your bottom lip, biting down on his own. “Well, there is always tomorrow night.”

[ururanus]

Professor!ghost x student!reader

18+ MDNI !NOT PROOFREAD!

Age gap!reader is not a minor! unprotected sex! Virgin reader!

A.N: this is my first story English is not my first language, i hope u understand and enjoy what i have managed to put out for you 💚

-----------------------------🎀--------------------------------

It was the kast period i had with professor Ghost at that point i was really tired and couldn't keep up with his lecture. I was drifting to sleep when i heard somebody calling my name, i slightly started to open my eyes to see who was calling me, "ms.y/l/n?" Why aren't you paying attention!! " Y/n" sorry sir i just found your lecture boring so i ended up falling asleep" P.G "if you keep that behaviour up you will be send to detention after class" Y/n "yeah whatever." I thought of being a little annoying today so i talked back at him. But like the teacher he is he sended me immediately to detention.

DETENTION :

P.G "well, well miss y/l/n we both know why you are here"

Y/n "No sir i have forgotten i think you need to remind me "

P.G " well then why dont you come over here and let me remind you what you have forgotten"

POV y/n: I slowly got up and made my way to his desk. It was obvious he was looking at my tiny tight skirt. His eyes were repeatedly going from my breasts and making their way down to my thighs. I felt so hot and bothered i could already feel my cheeks going red by the thought of him taking me right then and there.

POV Ghost: miss y/n was one if the most brattiest students i have met in all my years of teaching. But i couldn't help myself from thinking the most dirtiest scenario with her, i knew it was wrong for a guy my age to have thoughts for a student of mine. She has repeated this class 3 years till now but ill make sure this year she passes by straighting her out myself. As she made her way to my desk i couldn't help but look at her plush tits and he thick thighs.

Y/n "well sir are you gonna remind me if what happened or are you just gonna keep checking me out like a horny pervert"

P.G "i think ill do the second one and more than that how about you bend over this desk and let me remind you"

He grabbed my waist tightly and he bended me over the desk. He lifted my skirt and started carasing my thigh. I could feel myself getting wet from the way he was touching me. I was snapped back to reality from feeling his hard croch rubbing against my clothed pussy.

P.G " Am i making you wet already?"

I could not form a proper sentence. I was too focused by the way his dick was rubbing against me. And then is were i felt is fingerprint pulling down my wet panties , i felt something hard entering my virgin hole and him slowly thrusting against me making me tear up

P.G "why are you so tight. Has nobody ever touched you before?"

I could not speak i only nodded to his question. He chuckled letting me know he had seen me, he started slowly but roughly thrusting inside my wet cunny. i felt my world clench around his thick dick , in a matter of time i felt myself cumming around while i was quivering, i had never felt something so euphoric before. He started moaning and thrusting faster, thats how i knew he was getting close from how tight i was. I felt warm ropes of sperm feeling me up to my core, he started slowing his pace, he leaned down kissed my cheek and had let me know how good i was for him, and that i will see him next week. And i couldn't wait...

[thirdmagic]

its just not right that its been a year and there are still hostages who aren't home, whose families are still living in fear, uncertain of the fates of their children, parents, siblings, having to live every day not knowing if their most loved ones are even alive or not. its not right. i want to celebrate this new year joyfully, to go all out on the jewish joy and remember that am israel fucking hai that we are here and alive and keepig going no matter what all those who hate us wish for us, in spite of the best efforts of those who want to take that joy away from us and who want us to associate our most holy, sacred days with sadness and pain as a psychological terror tactic.

and yet. i also can't not think of the families of the murdered and the hostages, living every day in either grief for their losses or horrible, painful, sadistic uncertainty over whether their loved ones are aive or not. i cannot imagine simply living like that, i cannot imagine even surviving such a horrible pain, i feel it in me and i don't know how to deal with it even as jew and an israeli who doesn't know these victims, let alone as someone close to them, because they are my tribe and my people too.

how are we suppose to live like this. i refuse to give in to the pain and psychological terror that those who want us dead are trying to inflict on us, but i am also a human with felings, and this agony is just too much to bear. this is after all still my tribe, my family, and i feel their loss as if they were my immediate family. i don't know how to get through this kind of rosh hashanah i dont know how to fight this psychological terror that is being inflicted on us successfully despite our best efforts.

i was fortunate. i did not lose any family to the war and october 7th. i lost my grandfather to illness and human sturggle that kills many other people. i know he spent his past year stuck in a failing body, horribly humiliated that a brilliant mind like his that contributed so much to history and research was forced to endure being treated like a child, unable to even speak his own feeling and thoughts, and that hurt enough. I knew that hoe active brillian tried el hard to communicat to us and show us that he's still capable and aware in spite of the spitw of the failngs of his body. i cant not think or worry about the idea that i might lose them, every day. i am terrified of thunderstorms, i have panic attacks, i just heard booms in the distance while writing this that terrified me. and im still doing well compared to some of my friends, my classmates, family friends, people who lost their family, people who were called upon to serve knowing they might not survive it and might not see the bright future their youth promises. i cant not remain painfully aware that if any of my loved ones were lost to this cruel, hateful, sadistic violence, all my spite would not be enough to keep my spirit alive, and i feel as if by even speculating about this very extremely hypothetical idea i am inviting the ayin ha'raa.

i dont know. how do you move on? how do you live like this? how do you just survive this? i know my ancestors and parents and grandparents, my grandpa (z"l) survived this under a time where there was no israel as a safety net, survived the pogrom in proskurov and then lived in a place that was once the most jewish city in ukraine, renamed after the monster who incited that pogrom and its victims discarded in the name of a particular concept of revolution. my grandpa who lost his parents who were exiled to siberia and he was forced to survive on fishing with his grandmother in a barely habitable north without his parents, only because his mom wanted to honor our traditions and treat him as the jewish child that he was.

i know it can be worse, and still i am hurting so, so much, and i don't know what to do with that hurt. i dont know how to survive that pain as a tribe member not directly affected, and i dont know how to survive that pain as a parent, a child, or sibling. how do you keep going like this.

[lizzieislife94x]

My New Boss Pt.2 (e.o)

Requested <3

LizziexFem Reader GxG

Leagl age gap as stated in part 1 🥰

Y/ns POV:

Friday:

I shake my legs nervously as I wait for lizzie to get back from lunch I'm so anxious about going to the club tonight "ah y/n glad to find you here I thought you'd still be out at lunch, I just wanted to say I'll pick you up at 7 tonight" I look at her shocked and confused "huh what do you mean I thought we where all making our own way" I say shyly as she smiles sitting at her desk looking into my soul "oh honey I can't take the risk of letting you walk alone incase anything happens to you" i shrug and agree "ok sounds fun ill be sure to be ready" she smiles and leans her hands on her chin "you can take an early day to head home and get ready ill be OK without you for a few hours" I stand and fix my skirt and smile "so I can leave now" I ask as she nods "yeah you have 3 hours to get ready ill be there at 7 on the dot don't keep me waiting " her tone sends shivers down my spine as I nod and head out leaving the office.

"What are you doing here" June screams scared clutching the towel that almost fell I can't help but laugh after a minute I compose myself and put my bag on the floor "lizzie gave me a half day to come home and get ready and told me she'd pick me up at 7 because she doesn't want me walking alone" her jaw drops "wait hold the conversation ill be back in a second" she hurries to her room and comes back 2 minutes later dressed as she pushes me towards the couch the shock returning to her face "dude she likes you" I screw my face up "no she doesn't she wants to make sure I'm safe" June laughs "dude she likes you better atleast try and find out cos that is one sexy woman" I roll my eyes as I get up "better find the perfect outfit for her then" I jokingly wink before heading to my room trying to find the perfect dress for tonight.

6:40pm

"Please tell me I look ok " I say as I walk out in a tight short black dress with heels with curly hair and natural make up "Holy shit I think I have a crush on you" June jokes making me smirk "so I look good?" I ask for reassurance "yes you look smoking hot y/n you're going to drop alot of jaws tonight, but I think you'll need this babe" she says handing me a glass of red wine "oh my god yes thank you, you have no idea how much I need this I'm shaking lizzie will be here in 10 minutes" I sit and drink my wine chatting to June as I hear a beep my eyes widening "wish me luck" I breath out as I stand and grab my bag and phone making my way outside my jaw hitting the floor at the stunning black range rover as the door opens and lizzie struts out in a tight fitting black pant suit my jaw almost falls off it doesn't look like she has a top on under "wow you look fucking amazing " lizzie says as her eyes run up and down my body as she opens the car door "so fucking amazing wow" I can't help but blush as she helps me up into the car her hands on my waist and lower back the door closing as I get in quickly putting my belt on as lizzie gets in "this car is amazing thank you for picking me up" I smile as she starts to drive "oh and you look so good miss olsen pant suits really work" I say gently biting my lip as she smirks "thank you but please out of work lizzie is fine bab..y/n" she clears her throat as we make the 10 minute drive quickly parking up as we make our way inside.

2 hours later:

Lizzies POV:

My eyes follow y/n as she gets a drink from the bar a brunette trying so hard to get her attention I can feel the rage inside me, I frown as I watch the said brunette leading her to the dance floor "so lizzie it's so weird seeing you outside of the office" one of the girls says the words barely register as I nod my eyes glued to her why is she all over my y/n she's mine and I don't share I get up excusing myself as I make my way to the bar getting another drink my eyes still glued as I grip the bar my knuckles turning white as her hands roam y/ns body.

Y/ns POV:

I find myself getting lost in the music as a pretty girl dances with me I remember what June said and try to distracte myself from my boss I feel her hands roaming my body but ignore it as I finish my drinking continuing to dance "excuse me" I hear rather loudly followed by the chick being pulling away from me "lizzie" I says a little confused as she glares at the girl who was dancing with me "how about you go find someone else to groap this girl is off limits " I open my mouth shocked "um excuse me how dare you say im off limits I'm single I'm very much in limits" I say annoyed almost yelling at my boss as she gives me a stern look, shit this is why I didn't wanna be here I don't wanna loose my job I go to turn and walk away but she grabs my hand pulling towards the exit the cold air hitting me like a brick as she takes me to the car "what the fuck was that all about lizzie im single and was having fun we where only dancing" i huff out folding my arms before my back hits the car lizzie trapping me in her arms as her head leans against mine a confused look on my face "you have no idea" she whispers "no idea what lizzie" I say pissed but god her smell is intoxicating she's never been this close to me "you have no idea how fucking crazy you make me, you have no idea how hard it is to control myself around you in the office when all I wanna do is make you mine make you make sounds no one ever has, make that adorable fucking smile appear everyday " she confesses making me freeze "fuck" she whispers "watching her all over you I just couldn't do it I couldn't watch" I look at her her eyes fixed on mine as I lean forward kissing her hard my hands gripping the sides of her jacket as she grips my waist pinning me harder to the car only stopping when air becomes an issue "fuck" I whisper against her lips as I bring one hand up to her check "get in" she husks into my ear as she pulls the door open I instantly jump in as she gets in starting our journey her hand resting on my thigh "where are we going " I whisper as she looks at me "I'm taking you to my house" i gulp and nod as we make the drive to her home.

"Fuck" I moan loudly as she picks me up slamming me against the closed door her lips quickly marking my neck as I grip her shoulders "fuck that feels good" I giggle as she sucks my sweet spot "do you wanna take this upstairs baby if not its ok I respect that" she says biting her lip "definitely want to take this upstairs make me yours" I tease as she rushes us both upstairs quickly making her way to what I assume is her bedroom my back quickly hitting the mattress "I wanted to rip this off you when I picked you up" she almost moans sliding my dress up, I quickly sit up leaving a kiss on her cheek as I remove the dress lizzies jaw falling open at the simple lacey black bra panties I have on "fuck y/n" she smirks as she quickly works on removing her pant suit leaving her in nothing but a simple thong my eyes growing huge at the sight of her naked tits "what see something you like" she grins walking over pushing me back as she removes my panties all I can do is nod my head making her giggle as she kisses her way up my thighs making sure to leave bite marks "mine" she mumbles her breath hitting my now soaking cunt making me moan "pleas...e momm..I uh please lizzie" she looks up her eyes snapping to mine "say it" her tone full of lust "pl..ease mommy" I moan looking into her eyes as she moans her lips finding my clit instantly as she starts to suck I close my eyes gripping her head "just like that fuckkk" I cry out as she works her way down to my dripping entrance her tounge teasing every inch of my pussy "so fucking wet and needy princess" she mumbles against my pussy making me moan at the vibration my moans getting louder as she starts to tounge fuck me my eyes rolling at the sensation rushing through my body "gonna cum mom..my fuccccck!" I cry out as she works her tounge faster her thumb teasing my clit only adding to the pleasure as I cum all over her face "there it is" she smirks getting up onto her knees "get on your hands and knees and wait for me" she states getting up and going into the walk in wardrobe I quickly get up onto my hands and knees and my legs shake, fuck what is happening am I really on my hands and knees for my boss did she really just eat me out like I was her last meal "mhh good girl just what I like to see" she says making me jump slightly bringing me out of my thoughts as I turn my head I gasp at the sight of lizzie walking over with a huge strap on her waist rubbing lube up and down it "you want mommy's cock baby" she says as she climbs up behind me her hands running down my back gently "please" I whimper as I arch my back trying to back up to feel her making her laugh "thought so gonna stretch you so good with this" she says biting her lip as she lines the toy with my entrance pushing it in slowly my mouth hanging open nothing but a silent scream leaving my mouth "fuck so fucking tight baby" she moans bottoming out before starting her slow thrusts my fists gripping the sheets as sounds I've never made leave my lips "fuck you take it so well honey such a good girl for mommy" she moans her thrusts getting faster and harder as she repeatedly hits my gspot "don't fucking stop so close mommy so fucking close" I cry as she continues to pound my pussy "such a dirty mouth princess" she says pulling my hair making me look back at her as she fucks me like never before the eye contact driving me wild "you wanna cum for mommy, I know you're so close baby I can feel your cunt getting tighter let go give it all to mommy" she husks into my ear as she slams the strap a few more times my eyes roll and full body shakes as I scream out in pleasure "that's it baby such a good girl let it all go" she continues to slowly thrust as I cum more intense than I ever have I feel her pulling out making me whimper at the empty feeling, I collapse with my head landing on the pillow as lizzie dissappears.

Lizzies POV:

I place the harness on the sink as I grab a cloth and wet it, I can't believe I finally got to be with y/n I can't wipe the smile from my face this woman has had a hold on me since she came in for her interview I shake myself out of my thoughts as I walk back onto the bedroom my heart melting at the sight of a naked sleeping y/n ontop of my bed I bite my lip walking over and whisper gently "baby I have to clean you I don't want you to be uncomfortable" she mumbles and turns onto her back opening her legs slightly to allow me to gently clean her "mhh thank you mommy" she mumbles as she instantly falls asleep I throw the cloth into the bathroom and climb into bed letting my hand gently run over her hair and cheeks "I think you're the one for me I just hope you at least like me back" I smile as she wraps her hands and leg around me cuddling into me melting my heart more as I close my eyes falling into a peaceful slumber.

AN: Don't know if this make sense 😂 hope it does and I hope yall enjoy 💗 this was longer than intended haha, make sure yall drink water and stay hydrated babes 🥰 word count 1.3k