#ive been in this position a few times over the past couple months and ive managed to stabilize and stay op

[whsprings]

.

[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE III (Buggy x F!Reader)

PART II // PART IV

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, Buggy being angry.

N/A: thirth part of this series, it's not gonna be so much longer. I hope you enjoy!

After revealing your ability to knock a guy down with just a couple of blows, your pretensions of going unnoticed within the crew have become quite impossible. You have caught the attention of Buggy, who on the one hand seems quite interested in your skills, but on the other is somewhat suspicious of you. And no wonder, in his eyes you have gone from being a helpless young girl to a killing machine, that has to confuse anyone. 

The day after what happened in the tavern he calls you to his cabin. It's the first time you've been alone with him since you found him that night in the ship's hold. You are very nervous, not because he might blow your cover but because he is so close to you. Buggy is not an overly muscular man but he is very tall, at least two feet taller than you. It was something you hadn't paid much attention to until now. Having him so close to you makes your chest tighten, making you feel ridiculous. 

"So tell me, Y/N.... why hadn't it occurred to you to tell me that you can finish a man off in half a minute?"

Buggy's voice sounds soft, almost seductive. He's using a patronizing tone. You've been watching him long enough over the past few months to know it's his way of hiding an impending anger.

"Do you think i'm an idiot?" There he is, he's just pulled out the genie. He abruptly turns to you and approaches, positioning himself dangerously close. "Tell me, do i look like a joke to you?"

You should be nervous about having to come up with some excuse but actually all you can think about is that you see him as a very kissable person. Obviously, you can't say that. 

"Did you really think I'm gonna believe the story of you not minding important to tell me about your fighting skills?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Y/N. Now."

Buggy comes dangerously close to your face, his nose almost brushing against yours. He must think your nervousness is because he's caught you, but the truth is your heart is going so fast because you're holding him so close and it feels like a sin not to eat his mouth. Every day that passes your desire for him grows and at times like this you find it hard to control yourself.

"Well?" he insists, getting impatient. 

You snap back to reality, you must answer something. You sigh, perhaps the best thing to do is to tell the truth.

"Okay..." you nod, pulling away from him a little. You can't center your head holding him so close, his scent clouding your sense. "I had foster parents, they were Marines. They were working as undercover agents, but they ended up in prison for treason or something. When they were arrested my sister and I escaped, but we ended up as slaves and were bought by a horrible guy who was in the business of training children to sell them as mercenaries in the future. I was one of the best, escaped from there, got my own life and blah, blah, blah..."

You were not good at telling stories but that time you have excelled, you have told it with such reluctance that anyone would say that you are summarizing a very boring novel. Buggy stares at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. You don't understand what's so funny, maybe you don't like to make a big deal out of it because your personal traumas have turned you into a kind of emotional robot, but it's not to make fun of other people's misfortunes either. 

"Do you really expect me to believe something like that?" 

Wow, so that's what it is, the truth has seemed too far-fetched for him. Well, good for you. 

"I have to admit, you're a good storyteller. You could use that talent for some show." You stifle a smile, one of the things you like most about that fool is how sometimes he doesn't know anything. "But I want the truth, Y/N, or we'll have a problem."

You sigh. Fuck, that's lazy, now you'll have to make something up. 

"My father was a former marine" you lie "I was trained by him." 

Buggy grimaces.

"Yes, of course the earlier story was much more interesting, it had more drama."

"I thought if I told that my father had been in the Navy you wouldn't want me in your crew" you shrug. Well, in the end a boring, simple excuse was the most convincing. 

Buggy stares at you, weighing whether to buy your excuses or not. 

"Okay, I believe you" he nods. He folds his arms and leans slightly towards you, speaking menacingly "But I hate it when people try to make a fool out of me." 

"I never have ever intended anything like that" Actually at first you did. 

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck, of course yes!" You exclaim, exasperated, stepping completely out of your role. 

Buggy pulls back, confused by your reaction. 

"What, you're offended?" he asks, incredulous "I'm the one who has the right to be angry here!"

"For God's sake, Buggy, stop thinking the whole fucking world wants to fucking laugh at you."

You've never said swear words in front of him before, nor spoken in such a rude manner. It's the first time you show him your true personality and he seems quite surprised. And a bit angry, to be honest. 

"You're obsessed with what fucking people think. Fuck it, people are bullshit." 

"How dare you talk to me like that, don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I know, everyone knows. You love make everyone know" you reply, a bit fed up now "I'm just telling you the truth."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic, maybe you don't like being on this crew anymore."

You fold your arms, he's not the only one who can be proud and stubborn, you've always been known for that too. 

"Maybe not."

Buggy's gaze seems to be on fire with rage. He's really furious. 

"Well, get the hell out then."

"No!"

That really knocks him off his feet.

"No?"

Your tone has dropped considerably, regaining your composure. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"May I ask what the hell is wrong with you?"

At this point in the conversation, and considering that you've already discovered too many cards to give up the game, perhaps it's time to tell the truth. But the one that matters. The stuff about you working as a bounty hunter or that your goal was to kidnap him is not something that seems relevant to you.

You take a breath, take a deep breath and stare at him. 

"I like you" you reply matter-of-factly.

Buggy stares at you as if he has just seen a ghost. He's speechless, that's quite a feat coming from someone who is incapable of shutting his mouth for more than two minutes. He opens his mouth slightly to say something but he can't, he gets stuck. Your confession has completely thrown him off, right now so many things are going through his head that he is unable to manage. 

"I don't care about being a pirate" since you confess, you decide to confess completely "but I like you and I don't want to leave the ship. So stop accusing me like that, it doesn't sit well with me."

Not that it feels too good to your self-esteem to see the horrified look on Buggy's face at this point, but it feels genuinely good. You've finally let it out, you've been holding it inside for so long that it's been a lump in your throat.

"Your .... Eh.... Me?" It's the only thing Buggy finds himself able to utter. 

The idea being liked by someone is not something that crosses his mind often. Buggy can brag about all his exploits and constantly bravado about his abilities, but he has always felt considerably inferior than many of his peers. He knows he inspires fear, terror even, that some of his disciples look up to him but... liking him? Why would you like him? You're quite a bit younger and very pretty. In fact you don't know it, but more than one member of the crew has commented to him once or twice that they finds you very attractive. He's sure it's a ruse or something to confuse him, there's no way you really could like him. 

"Look, I'm not going waste more time, this is a childish conversation" You tell him, once you've made your confession it's like all the nerves and fear have disappeared. You are you again. "When you calm down you look for me"

And then you make the decision to do something you've been wanting to do for weeks. You were taught that if you decide something you have to go all the way, that has always been your character. So you approach Buggy, stand on tiptoe and give him a light kiss on the lips. He stands still, motionless, like a statue. You look into those eyes that enchant you and say:

"I really wanted to do that, I'm sorry." 

And with that said you leave, returning to the deck. Buggy stares at you, static, unable to react. 

What the hell just happened?

[nininikki]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

IV. it’s all coming back to me now

✧ summary! — your complicated feelings for eren come to a head during his star-studded ball.

✧ warnings! — alcohol consumption and mentions of it, mentions of sexual activity (piv), mentions of male masturbation, adultery, age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40, some POV switching, angst

✧ author’s note! — WHEW, it’s here! after looking at nothing but this google doc for the past few days my brain is so damn fried so all i can say is THANK U ALL SM for all your love and for just existing &&& i really hope you like it! 💘🫶🏽💋💋

✧ word count! — 3.6k series masterlist! / previous chapter!

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

“i mean, it sounds stupid now, but…you should’ve seen the man.” mikasa said, her face screwed up in a scary smugness. “from my perspective, at least. it was like…” she took a big gulp of sparkling water down her throat, and chewed on some ice cubes to wash it down. hurt channeled at the network of veins on her neck, and you still hadn’t quite processed the fact that you were the cause for it.  “it was like night and day.”

***

14 SEPTEMBER, TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION 

“and ms. (y/n), who exactly are you wearing tonight?”

no matter how he tried, eren just couldn’t help the way he stared as you smoothed your hands over the skirt of your dress. it was pink, and just the right shade—the kind that reminded him of soft cotton candy melting on his tongue. the beauty—the grandness—of your ensemble was akin to walking through an entire forest of showering cherry blossoms.

“none other than mugler, of course.” you responded, flashing the oh so lucky reporter an award-winning smile. despite evening shadows that had begun dusting against his front lawn, the flush of crimson crawling over the collar of his leather jacket and peeking at the top of his neck was striking. 

what was he doing? there was an onslaught of guests piling in—all ranging from a-list celebrities to politicians with enough influence to make or break his campaign at any given moment. eren supposed he should care. and he was really, really trying to. had you not been so you, or had he not been so stupid, simply looking at you wouldn’t be such a strain. then, as quickly as that thought crossed his mind, he condemned himself for even allowing it to. he was the reason for his unfaithfulness (or, more technically speaking, his desire to be unfaithful). 

it was he who had fought tooth and nail with his very own resolve after each and every one of your phone calls, trying to keep his hands above the buckle of his belt long enough to rationalize the thoughts coursing through his head. it was he who, no matter how he tried, couldn’t find the will to fight those same temptations under the cold spray of shower water—tugging his painfully erect cock until the faint whisper of your name left his lips and the remnants of his disloyalty trickled down the shower walls. it was eren who wouldn’t be able to get the sound of your laugh out of his head even if he struck it against those same shower walls forever.

just as eren began to take his eyes off you, they landed on his wife, who was just scurrying past nearby and looked utterly delighted to see him. “ah, there you are!” mikasa’s hands found his, and she craned her neck up at him to receive a kiss on the cheek. in the time it took him to oblige her wish, her lips were in perfect position to whisper, “levi wants us to dance later.” against the shell of his ear. he understands then that his mission for tonight is to be married. he was going to sweep mikasa off her feet on the dance floor and laugh with her over a couple glasses of champagne. but first, he was going to kiss her on the cheek and tell her how radiant she looked, because that’s just what good husbands did.

***

“aren’t they cute?” hange cooed in your ear, their watchful eye turned subtly toward eren and mikasa. he was stamping a kiss over her cheek, and then spinning around to assess her outfit. if your lip reading skills served you well enough, he was saying something along the lines of, “you look amazing.”

upon catching mikasa’s diamond wedding ring glinting in the light of the setting sun as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, you briefly considered choking from the onslaught of bile climbing up your throat. “the cutest.” you chirped out instead. hanged snaked an arm around your waist a little tighter than usual, and you let them. you were gonna need it. “c’mon, i think the party’s heading inside.”

***

the jaeger ballroom was something of a spectacle. carved into the arched, sky high ceilings were designs so ornate they looked to be paintings. opulence filled the air, along with the chipper aroma of freshly poured champagnes and the staticky buzz of tipsy chatter. 

“i can have you five movie deals by the end of the night.” hange hypothesized aloud, their eyes hungrily scanning the throng of stars socializing about. 

“is now really the best time to be pimping me out?”

“honey, i can’t think of a better time than now.” their eyes lit up at the sight of an esteemed director laughing heartily over what couldn’t have been his first glass of champagne. “now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“oh, hange, please,” you half pleaded. the last thing you needed was to be alone with all your thoughts. 

hange only retracted their arm from the comfort of your waist and kissed at your temple. “you’re gonna thank me for this, don’t worry.”

you tried not to let your shoulders drop before the eyes of so many people as you carried yourself over to the bar. it was delightfully vacant and ensconced beneath just enough shadows to grant you a little bit of privacy. as you maneuvered yourself and your dress upon a chair, the memory of eren and mikasa gushing over one another poked and prodded at your brain incessantly, as if with the intention of making it explode behind your skull. 

you couldn’t help but wonder if the glances you two sneaked to one another in public, or the conversations shared during the late hours of the night, or the mutual feelings that surely plagued his thoughts as well as your own, were all just…that. a secret, an affair, a rendezvous. something dirty and scandalous and not meant to purge past the dark of night. 

who were you kidding? of course they were. no matter how little he loved his wife, (although, you couldn’t be a hundred percent sure eren didn’t love mikasa. and that made you feel a little sick) she would still be his wife. and you’d still be…well, you didn’t quite know. 

“hi.” came eren’s voice behind you, accompanied by a tap to your shoulder. you were so nestled within your head that you were hardly even startled. 

in a few lithe strides, he was standing in front of you. “hey, you,” he really did look so perfect tonight. and it didn’t help that he was looking at you like you were perfect too. “how’s your ball going?”

eren’s voice took on a joking air as he surveyed the area. “not too shabby, i’d say.” for whatever reason, when he brought his gaze back to you, they seemed as if they’d never leave. “what about you? what do you think?”

as you pondered over an answer to his question, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took the plush skin of his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before releasing the now smoothly damp, blushing flesh from its confines. only one word came to mind. “beautiful.”

at that, eren’s eyes pressed shut for a moment before opening again, seemingly miles brighter than before they closed. “that makes me happy to hear.” embarrassingly, your entire body warmed at the lower octave of his voice, and for a moment you hated that he could do this to you. “and, hey, speaking of beautiful things,” he nodded towards you, and if it were possible, his voice was even sexier when he said, “i haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night.”

somehow, your composure was still intact. “is that so?” 

“absolutely.” eren beamed. “if you’ll let me, i’d love a dance with you at some point.” 

as you took a moment to let his words seep into your skin as they always did, his attention was drawn to something on the other side of the room, and without much forewarning, he quickly said, “excuse me, (y/n).” before whisking away. 

***

“put your hands on my hips.” mikasa murmured, and then smiled politely when eren did. he hoped it wasn’t too painfully obvious to the onlookers that mikasa was skilled in ballroom dance and he was not. “everything’s going well. i’ve spoken with investors, and they’ve all seemed promising.”

eren whispered before spinning mikasa in a circle. “good to hear.”

they danced in silence for a few beats until mikasa said, “you could try and look at least somewhat in love.”

eren fought the urge to drop his smile, and spun mikasa into a dip. mikasa’s face came up flushed, smiling, and framed by a few out of place hairs. “really hard to do when you’re in my ear about investors.”

still beaming, she said between her teeth, “well, not everyone can just sit on their asses all day. one of us has to care about your career.” 

“god, you’re unbelievable.”

“am i wrong?”

the song ended, and the pair tried not to make it so obvious they were eager to get their hands off each other. eren could see a tangible effort put in by his wife to keep smiling, no matter how artificial, and he wasn’t sure whether he feared or admired it more.

***

you were out of there. from the moment he took mikasa’s hand and led her out to the dance floor. from the moment he twirled her body around in a graceful little circle. from the moment you watched them look into each other’s eyes in the way only a husband and wife did. you were so out of there.

sneaking away was easy. by now, everyone (including hange, who you could see had now taken to flirting with a random caterer) was drunk off their asses, and likely couldn’t tell you from a can of paint.

once you were outside, breathing began to feel manual. the diamonds around your neck were strangling. the jovial sounds of the party inside still rang in your ears. you weren’t far away enough. so, you ran. you ran through the vast, flourishing garden that lie behind the spacious property. you ran until the soles of your feet ached with each step. you ran until the memory of eren dancing with mikasa didn’t hurt so much.

you didn’t stop until you were in an area ensconced by trees. it’d have been completely dark if not for light emanating from the beaming moon. a tall stone fountain trickled nearby, and you wasted no time sitting on its edge. as your heart tried to climb out of your throat, a late summer breeze swept through the trees and covered your bare shoulders in goose flesh.

you wondered how you would muster the courage to go back to the party. you wondered how you would even find your way back. the gardens were a tall, grassy maze that you had hardly any business running through in the first place.

“(y/n)?” you heard a voice call. or rather, the voice—his voice. you had half a mind to brush it off as some kind of hypothermic delusion until eren smoothed through the entryway. his gaze caught yours from where you sat at the fountain, and incommunicable relief passed his eyes. “there you are,” if there was still any doubt that he was real, it was all extinguished when he wandered into the moonlit area towards you. hands folded politely behind his back, his hair a little messier than usual. “you had me worried for a moment.”

“guess i owe you a dance, then.” you attempted to joke, fighting off the shiver that threatened to rack your limbs.

“you owe me more than that, i think.” the glimmer of the moon made him look like an angel, and the firm tone coloring his voice did nothing to help. “like an explanation, maybe. as to why you’re out here.”

“how’d you even find me?” you challenged. “this place is,” you waved your arms high above your head as if to showcase its size. “massive.”

“i actually own the place, if you didn’t know.” you fought the urge to smile at his wit. eren took his hands from behind his back to unveil a pretty pink chanel heel. he only needed to hold it up for a second to know it was yours. “and i think you dropped something off on the way.”

you pulled up the skirt of your dress to see one foot still clad in its respective heel while the other was only sheathed in your nylon stockings. how much adrenaline had been coursing through your body for you to have not noticed? still inspecting your practically naked foot, you held your hand out to take the shoe from him, but he disregarded it as he kneeled before you. “no, let me.”

there was something especially intimate about this. about how delicate eren was being with you. his hands were big, but so capable of being gentle. the skin of his palms were so warm against your ankles, the tips of his fingers so light against your soles, you almost found yourself giggling at the pleasantness of it.

once he was finished, you stood, admittedly a little too flustered. “thank you.”

he seemed to barely acknowledge it, only nodding as he rose to his feet. “now, are you gonna tell me why you’re out here?”

for what felt like the first time the entire night, you finally allowed your shoulders to sink under all the emotion they had been carrying. “it’s silly.” eren’s gaze was unwavering, but soft nonetheless. he had the kind of eyes that made you want to tell him everything.

you turned your back to him, unsheathing yourself in the warmth of his stare. could eren hear the rapid thumping of your pulse? could he hear it skipping when he said, “i’m sure it’s not.”

“no it’s, uh,” gingerly, you began walking around the fountain, and you could hear his footsteps trailing close behind. “being jealous of a man’s wife, that’s…that’s, um, really stupid of me, actually…” your mouth was clumsy as it fumbled over the words, and you could only conceal the stupidity of your confession with a sardonic chuckle. “i should go.” you whispered, turning to face him again, with no intention of leaving.

“don’t.” eren protested. through your peripheral vision, you saw his hand reach for yours, and you were unsure whether you should flinch away or push yourself closer. 

your voice was a hair away from breaking. “there’s nothing for me out here.” you knew what you were saying. you understood its implications. eren was far from nothing, but he was also a fool if he believed the feelings you shared could ever go beyond this patch of land.

“how could you even say that knowing how i feel about you?” eren braved a step toward you, searching for the passion—the devotion—in your eyes that was so evident in his.

“how you feel about me?” the utter absurdity of it made you laugh, and it was then you registered the moisture building in your eyes. “yeah, like that means anything.” 

“and it doesn’t?” 

“it can’t!” the words escaped you in the form of a bitter, scratching scream. eren’s eyes only softened. “you’re married, so it can’t mean anything.”

“i think,” absolutely nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his fingertips brushing against yours. once, twice, then three times. something about each little touch made it a bit more real. now, your feelings were more than that. now, he was touching you. “i think it already does.”

it all happened so fast. you barely got the chance to think, this is such a bad idea before his fingertips were skating briskly up your arm and both of his hands—so big, and oh so capable—were on either sides of your neck. caressing the skin there, assessing the thunder of your pulse, pulling you closer until the tips of your noses brushed against one another.

the first syllable of his name left your mouth in a choked whimper, and that was all you could let before eren kissed you. 

soft. that was the only possible word. his lips were tender and sticky with champagne. you could tell he was testing your waters first—brushing his lips against yours ever so gently, allowing you to get a taste of one another before he went in for the kill. he planted a soft one on your bottom lip, then another when you felt yourself trembling. then he was at your top lip—also trembling with newborn nerves but still just as eager. “tell me to stop and i will.” eren breathed into your mouth.

you considered it for a moment. you considered letting the warmth of his hands leave your skin, letting him go back to the party, letting him leave you. his eyes were serious, and you could tell he was considering it too. you closed your eyes, grazed your lips over his just a fraction or so, and that was all the answer eren needed.

when he took your lips properly for the first time, it felt as though they were no longer yours. eren kissed you passionately, slowly, as if kissing was all you would ever be able to do. and you let him. as his tongue slipped between your already parted lips, you let yourself get lost in the champagne taste that lingered on it. you let him kiss you for so long that you’d started to get dizzy from how little you were breathing. and you loved it.

you loved having his mouth on you. you loved little wet sounds that emanated whenever he took his lips off yours. you loved how he was holding you—one hand at your nape and the other cupping your jaw. you loved how good he was making you feel. “eren, more.” you had managed to say between kisses.

and it seemed he was more than happy to oblige. he took his lips over your neck as if they belonged there, nipping and sucking at that same frenetic pulse point like he was hungry for it—hungry for you. you held his hair back as he worked down your neck and over your collarbones. eren’s eyes darkened as he smoothed his lips up and down the valley between your breasts. not yet kissing, but running his mouth over the delicate skin. “can i kiss you here?” he asked, voice muffled by desire as he palmed your left breast.

“uh-huh,” you nodded, and eren had dropped down on one knee for better access. smoothly, you maneuvered the straps of your dress off your shoulders just in time for eren to pull you in. 

his hands on your waist, his tongue making busywork over your pert left nipple, his name on your lips. “you like it when i touch you here?” he asked, the tip of his nose nudging the spot where his mouth had just been. you nodded again.

eren took a hand that had been on your waist and let it drop over your ankle. “what about right here?” then that hand was moving up your calf. “and here?” towards the back of your knee. “you like this too?” up the doughy flesh of your thigh, where he took his time fondling the nylon-covered skin. “oh, yeah, i know you like this.” he murmured as you squirmed.

“you’re so warm,” eren groaned as his remaining joined the other under your dress, both kneading your thighs whilst teasing the skin between them. the tip of his thumb grazed over the crotch area of your stockings and you shivered. “can i feel you here?” 

yes. the answer was so obvious that you’d hardly felt the need to say it. just as your mouth began to open around the response, a monstrous clap of thunder roared across the sky, followed by a burst of lightening, which was then followed by gentle rainfall.

it was like the rain had been trying to sober you. all the warmth, all the lust, all the irrationality—all rinsed away by the rain and its growing freneticism. hurriedly, you readjusted the shoulders of your dress and helped eren to his feet. “we should get out of here.” you sighed, swallowing a gulp. “before we get too wet.”

eren only nodded, his hands having settled on your waist. you waited for him to take them off, for the moment to be over, for your need to touch him to finally dissipate. you waited and waited, and it seemed he was doing the same.

finally, eren moved to slip his suit jacket off his shoulders and set it carefully over yours. “here, let me,”

“you shouldn’t.” you tried, already attempting to shrug the expensive material off of you.

eren persisted, “i want to.” as he tugged it over you more securely. “now, let’s get out of here.”

***

it was only eleven o’clock. the rest of the party, still inside and blissfully ignorant to the rain, weren’t there to see eren escort you into your car. 

“is your manager still in there?” eren asked once you were nestled safely in the backseat.

how angry would hange be if you left them there for the remainder of the night? how angry would they be if you pulled them away from a good party (and potentially even better money) just because you’d gotten a little carried away with eren in his garden?

“i’ll call them in the morning.” you decided.

tags ✧˖*°࿐ — @nyanglock @beyondsuki @punkologist @taylarxse @ittostan @rensbby @madsoncrack @shawtynoire @braxxinterlude @kai7911

© NININIKKI. do not translate, copy, or modify my works in any way shape or form.

[5-htagonist]

god damn im so happy rn... ill stick it under a readmore bc its about food and my appetite idk if it would be triggering also this turned into more of a diary entry than anything lol My Blog My Rules though

i made curry last night and im really happy because ive been having a lot of trouble eating and Making myself eat, on top of being really erally really broke so we havent had much food in the house thats just Ready To Go consistently.. like, we always have oats, but we dont always have milk, and i cant eat them with water.. or we have ham but we run out of bread, or all i want are fruits and leafs but we cant really keep anything except apples/oranges/grapes because they dont go bad before we finish them, or bananas cause they arent really ruined if theyre overripe you just throw them in the freezer. so we cant get salad materials.

if i try to just shove calories in my body and i dont like it i wont finish it. like i will feel full until i stop trying to make myself eat it. and this isnt even just when adderall affects my appetite.

then, on top of all that, i know if i eat i have to do dishes. my husband usually does them, but hes been going through a really bad time for the past couple months too, plus we only moved out july 2023, and before that his mom had been Divorced outta the house earlier that year iirc plus id been living there since july 2022, so his brain and nervous system has felt safe enough for the ptsd recovery stage for nearly 2 years. and he gets hit really hard with seasonal depression, and he has adhd too. he typically does dishes, i typically do laundry. the problem is its easier to wear the same clothes for a few days, or rewear laundry that isnt rancid, or wear ill fitting clothes that have been shoved to the back of the dresser, but its hard to wash a dish when the sink is full and the kitchen is overwhelming.

so, to avoid having dirty dishes, i wont eat. whats worse, is i was insanely stressed over school for like 3 weeks. all the stress i should have had this semester hit me really bad all at once. when im that stressed, i cant think about anything relevant to maintaining myself-- especially not maintaining neutral-positive self talk and constructive self esteem. which means i shut down if anyone needs anything from me real or imagined. which means i cant be there for my husband and make sure he eats and check in on him. so all this stupid shit just feeds into itself. ive had more s/h urges than ive had in years i think, and not even in response to anything extrinsic.

my goofy ass got drunker than i usually do super quick the other night, it wasmy husbands birthday party. i cleaned up the apartment super nice since mostly my stuff was strewn everywhere and did the dishes. i didnt eat all day and i think i had like, one inadequate meal the day before. so i was exhausted after cleaning, our roommate ordered pizza and i ate and passed out for 3 hour nap. by the time i got up everyone was already at Least buzzed. my brother in law got a mom call and my husband (drunk) was like Hey. Give me the Phone.. tell her i wanna talk... because she LOVES being upset that her kids are having a good time and feels the need for Hour Phone Call when and where she wants it, and my BIL is an adult but they dont treat him like one, so hes still really deep in feeling trapped in these trauma responses.

this i think is what really got me, other than not being on my full dose of adderall so my emotional abilities were compromised lmao. i was tryingto tell my husband i love him, because i was leaving to weed store, and he was getting triggered while drunk, so he was annoyed i was interrupting the call and i didnt get my byebyehugnkiss. not to mention they were being really loud earlier. so now i feel bad. i get back immediately down 2 shots (3 shots is where i am Comfortably Drunk) and share a j actually post cancelled kendrick just dropped. the point was that i got too drunk and started hitting myself on the head and crying in the kitchen floor lol but who cares about that KENDRIIIIIIICKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

[psycho-scribbler]

alr so i dont know if ive posted Flytrap here before but imma do dah cuz i got the first two paragraphs done (imma post em separately)

Flytrap

Part one: The Flies (1st entry)

The first thing I noticed was the flies.

I’d lived in the old house for a couple months at this point - I was still settling in and making the house “mine”, if you could put it like that. But with time, the place was beginning to feel a lot more like home.

It still had many traces from the past owners, like huge paintings of different landscapes, a few animal skulls decorating the walls here and there, and of course a beautiful set of meticulously painted, vine-adorned china they’d left behind.

But now that I had moved in, I’d started to decorate the place with my own personality - a couple plants here and there, more paintings, home-made rugs and strings of fairy lights that I set up all over the house. It was an old house, made of thick timber and with a beautiful aged look to it, so the lights and decor really made it look like a homely cabin out in the woods.

It wasn’t that far out in the woods, though. I could see the main road if I just walked out on the porch, since the house was positioned on a cliff. It was a pain in the ass to get up the stairs in front of the front door with groceries, but even inheriting the house was a fair tradeoff.

But, just as I said before, there was one thing that was beginning to annoy me.

There were so many flies.

In the beginning, when I’d first moved in, everything had been fine. Dan, my dad, had given me the keys and told me to make myself at home - and to call him if I needed any help moving my stuff or if there were problems with the electricity.

I’d spent that entire week moving my stuff into the house, with the help of my brother, dad and my twin sisters.

None of them made much conversation, since we were all pretty introverted and more the silent type than chatty. But I liked it. It was fun having them over, cooking food in the old kitchen for the first time in ages.

Once they left, though… that was a different story.

The woods around the house were loud and creepy, the house itself was creaking and whirring as if it was alive. It made me uneasy at first, but I’d learnt to live with it.

Then came spring.

The first consequence of the ground warming up and the chill disappearing out of the air, was the animals.

Woodpeckers were constantly making noise in the trees around the house, squirrels and rodents were investigating the outside of the house, and larger animals were lumbering around outside even during the day.

But after that came all the insects - ants, spiders and centipedes were just the start of it. I even found a snake behind the couch at one point, but it thankfully wasn’t venomous and I could escort it out easily.

Now that you know how frequent all the wildlife is, let’s get to the point:

The flies.

[shepevansfm]

CONNECTIONS +

FAMILY

PARENTS: country music star, dwight evans & former super model, mary evans (Divorced)

OLDER SIBLING: samuel evans

YOUNGER SIBLING: stacey evans

YOUNGER SIBLING: saylor evans

POSITIVE TAKEN

BEST FRIEND: through thick and thin these two have been there for each other through it all. shep really isn't sure where he would be withouth miles. — miles hudson

SMOKE BUDDIES: just a couple of people who get their kicks smoking some weed when theyr'e not in classes — ali rutherford

PARTNER IN CRIME: getting into trouble and talking their way out of trouble is what they do — noah puckerman

FRIENDS: shep met avery met because of their parents. dragged to various country music events is where they got to know each other. they aren't necessarily the closest of friends, but avery appreciates his place in her life. — avery dunn

PLATONIC SOULMATE: they’ve been attached at the hip after they met and even though they have no romantic connection they have plenty platonic connection. — jemma sylvester

PARTY PALS: these two used to party together when they started at psu but now she’s there to support him through his sobriety — dani flores

FAVORITE PROFESSOR: shep has been in a few of sam's different level english classes and has loved every one. — sam pierce

POSITIVE OPEN

ROOMMATE: yep they live together

SOBER PEEPS: anyone else who is living sober like he is

TUTOR: shep hasn't always been the brightest, especially when it comes to math and science so he needs a tutor.

UNREQUITED CRUSH TURNED FRIENDS: based solely on looks and never having held an actual conversation, shep had a little crush on them, and as a result, asked them on a date. they let him down quickly but gently, explaining he was adorable but she isn't into him. from this, a friendship blossomed, perhaps a little awkward at first but much better with time

CHILDHOOD FRIEND(S): would have to be from nashville

BEST FRIEND(S): a close circle of friends

ACQUAINTANCES: they're both seniors who have seen each other around campus and have shared friends so they're casual

RIDE OR DIE: that one person that matters more to him than anyone else

FRIENDS: people he’s getting to know better

LIKE A SISTER/LIKE A BROTHER: a sibling bond

FRIENDS WHO DRIFTED: were close possibly freshman year but have managed to drift apart

ROLE MODEL: someone she looks up to

UNLIKELY FRIENDS: these two you wouldn’t necessarily pair up together but they work well together

DEALER: he smokes weed so he needs someone to buy from

NEGATIVE TAKEN

DISLIKE: jake and bree have a past, shep is currently fake dating bree. they're both protective and defensive of her. so, you can see where both boys don't get along. — jake puckerman

NEGATIVE OPEN

RIVAL: could be anyone that was also on the football or basketball teams before his injury

INTIMIDATED BY: someone who’s doing everything right and getting what they want

DISTRUST: for one reason or another, could just be vibes, he doesn’t trust them

ROMANTIC TAKEN

YOURE MY BEST FRIEND BUT IVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU FROM THE DAY I MET YOU: will and dwight were both judges on a reality tv show when they met. because they had kids around the same age the two would run around set together. though they weren't always together after that, shep did his best to support charlie through his transition and now they trauma bond over hatred of their fathers, lol — charlie schuester

PR RELATIONSHIP: currently together just for the cameras their publicists thought they would help each other’s careers and image. they occasionally hook up but it's nothing serious - bree brown

EXES ON BAD TERMS: marley and shep dated when he was 21 and she was 25, making a connection thanks to a mutual friend they dated for a few months before shep cheated on marley with a friend from home. — marley rose

FLIRTATIONSHIP: they’re having a lot of fun just flirting with each other, shep finds morgan very attractive and can’t help but have a little fun — morgan weston

ROMANTIC OPEN

CRUSH (FOR HIM): been crushing on them a little while now

CRUSH (FOR THEM): someone who’s doing everything has a crush on him

FIRST TIME: he lost his virginity freshman year

FIRST LOVE: the first person to really make him know what love was

EX FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS: anyone in the past that was a casual fling

HOOK UPS/ONE NIGHT STANDS: self explanatory

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS: a good hook up never hurt nobody… or did it?

++ = future plot, has yet to happen in game

hit me up for more plots, i’m always up for it!

[foreverrogers]

hey!!

ive been reading ur fics on browser for like months and finally just got the app a few weeks ago so i can give you and all the lovely authors on this site the love they deserve 🕺

if ur still accepting requests,,

tasm!peter getting a call/text from drunk reader, they’re like in some random location just having a grand old time, unconcerned, and peter panics and swings to pick them up, take them home etc.

the fond exasperation, the tipsy flirting, the physical affection 🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️ i just want it

omg hi i LOVE this idea it is so so so adorable

peter always stays out late patrolling when you go to a party or to get drinks with your friends, just for the not so off chance that you'll need him to come get you.

he's not surprised when he gets the call, or when you reveal that you've wandered into an unfamiliar park, or that you spend five minutes fumbling to figure out how to send him your location, or that you make stay on the phone with you, nevermind the fact that he's trying to swing across the city to rescue you.

"'m sleepy," you mumble, voice quiet across the line like you've moved away from the phone, and it would have been cute if peter's entire body hadn't tensed as soon as you called.

"i know, honey. it's way past your bedtime."

"mmm.... might just" you sigh, deep and calm and restful. "lie down for a little... while I wait."

"hey, hey, don't do that. i know you're tired, need you to stay awake for me though."

you hum again, even quieter this time, and no amount of peter's prodding through the phone gets you to speak up again until he arrives.

true to your word, you're curled up on a park bench, phone still open to his contact at your side.

"y/n, hey. you in there?"

you clearly hadn't been that invested in being asleep, because the light hand he puts on your arm makes your eyes fly open. you sit up so quickly he's surprised you don't topple over onto your other side.

"pe-!" his hand is over your mouth before you can let the second syllable of his name slip away. it's not late enough that there aren't people lazily strolling through the park, and peter turns to see a couple shoot him a strange look as they walk past. he pulls back, stands up to clumsily give them the thumbs up as they hurry away.

you're frowning deeply when he turns back, eyebrows pinched tightly. "why'd you do that?"

"secret identity, baby. remember? you gonna throw up if I swing us home?"

you nod, close your eyes for just a little too long to be blinking. "yup."

peter sighs. mostly because it's like talking to a brick wall when you're drunk, like pulling a very determined child out of a candy store to stop you from jumping into fountains or wandering down interesting alleyways or staring at darkened storefront displays. it's only a little bit because you're kind of adorable like this, with your messy hair and your droopy eyes and your eager affection. he likes taking care of you. "okay. it's okay, it's not too far to walk. let's just get you home, y/n."

a hand at your elbow encourages you up off the bench, and as you start walking you hug his arm tightly, partially to steady yourself, and partially because he's soft and warm and you want to.

there's silence for a while, as you exit the park gates and start down the block, you wrapped around him with your head on his shoulder. at some point you turn, look up at him with those wide, glassy eyes. the position looks uncomfortable to him, but you don't seem to mind. "you okay?"

you're frowning again, a caricature of a frown. "are you upset with me?"

"'course i'm not."

"but you called me y/n... in the park."

peter smiles, not that you can see it. "that's your name, isn't it?"

"yeah, but you never call me y/n... it's always baby or sweetheart or honey or-"

"okay, okay, i got it," he interrupts, chuckling, knows with the years of pet names stored away in your hazy brain you'll keep going until you get home. "won't happen again, baby. promise."

you beam at him, the complete inversion of your expression in the blink of an eye. "thank you," you start, triumphant, let your grin melt a little as you look at him. "can i have a kiss to make it up to me?"

peter really laughs this time, tilts his head at you. "was that whole thing just bait to get me to kiss you?"

"nooo," you sing, shake your head, biting back your smile as you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. "now i just want a kiss."

"we'll be home in 5 minutes."

"but i don't wanna wait 5 minutes," you try, smile falling, and peter pulls you into the alley just so he doesn't have to see you frown again.

you're not that far in, just so you've both slipped into the shadows, evaded by the yellow glow of the street lights. your back is against solid brick, and you're grinning again. "better?"

"not yet," you mumble, and peter lets you gently roll up the bottom of his mask so it's sitting just below his nose.

peter's hands rest steadily at your waist, and your own come up to frame his face as you pull him into a kiss.

you taste sweet, like soda and lipgloss, and just faintly of the bitter tinge of liquor left on your tongue.

peter can't help but match your smile as you pull away. "okay, now let's really get you home."

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 54: Consequences

TWs in the tags

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“Eat.” Jane commands. “Bunny specifically requested that I let you eat today, and it’s his anniversary.”

Kitty is not hungry enough for wet cat food to taste good, but they gag it down. Their defiance only goes so far, and they won’t disobey a clear order.

“Good! He asked me to give you water, too. Kneel.”

Jane holds a water bottle to their lips. They roll their eyes, but drink from it all the same.

“Good, good. Give me your arm.”

They hold out their arm instantly. Jane puts a needle in it. An IV. Then she pulls both of their arms behind their back roughly and ties them to their ankles.

A stress position. They can handle that, they’re good at handling that. But what’s the IV for?

Jane wraps a blindfold around their head. No, no, not that, not with the IV, that means she can leave them here for months without even needing to touch them. And they’ll hear nothing and see nothing and feel nothing for months, no no no please no.

“Wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said, I won’t do it again, please! Please, master, I’m sorry. I never would’ve done it if you said it was against the rules! Please, I’m good, I’m obedient, there’s no need for this. Just tell me that I have to be nice to you and I will. I’ll be nothing but respectful, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not about rules.” Jane winds duct tape around their head, over and over and over. The blindfold isn’t coming off any time soon. “I can hurt you whenever I want, for whatever reason I want. And you mocking me makes me want to hurt you.”

Jane places heavy headphones over their ears, and they are left with nothing but their thoughts.

~~

Today would be a good day to visit my therapist. She’d have something interesting to say about my past few days, I’m sure, and I desperately need to hear something interesting.

I watch her from my void as she plays a video game, waiting until she’s clearly very focused to exit my void and sit on the couch near her. She plays a few more rounds before she notices.

“Fuck!” She gasps, narrowly avoiding chucking her controller across the room. “How long have you been there?”

“Just a minute. What are you playing?”

“I’m sure you know more about it than I do. What do you want?”

“Just to talk, like always.”

Peyton turns off her game, taking a deep breath. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t need to eat.”

“And yet, you’re always more pleasant to talk to after a healthy meal. Starvation doesn’t have to kill you to affect you. Which you should know better than anyone, with all the non-lethal torture you do. Come on, I’ll make you some soup.”

“I can make my own soup. I know how to make a soup so good it makes everything else taste worse by comparison. Besides, I ate a couple of days ago. And I can summon any soup I want from my void.”

“That’s nice.” Peyton goes into her kitchen anyway. I follow. “Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about?”

“I’ve has a busy few days. It was Bunny’s anniversary, so I tried to have a fun day with everyone. But Kitty was a snot and Bunny was all whiny about his head hurting, so it didn’t go as planned.”

“Ah. How are they?”

“Who?”

“Your… the people living with you.”

“My pets? Puppy and Bunny are fine. Kitty’s in the basement because they need a reminder of their place.”

“And why is that?”

“They’ve been so disrespectful lately! Acting like I don’t know what I’m doing, criticizing my choices. Fucking brat. They belong to me.”

“I thought that you didn’t care what lowly mortals thought of you.”

“I don’t! But they need to know their place.”

“Why?”

“They’re my pet! They should be scared of me. They should want to avoid making me angry. They should be constantly thinking about how to keep me entertained so I don’t hurt them.”

“…Why?”

“Because that’s the kind of behavior that entertains me. Obviously.”

“Them disrespecting you is boring?”

“Well… no.”

“I thought this was all about handling boredom. Why would you punish behavior that entertains you?”

“Because I can do whatever the fuck I want. Like, if I wanted to, I could beat you to death with a baseball bat.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I just asked a question.” Peyton cuts carrots steadily. Her hands do not shake. She doesn’t believe me.

“Are you making chicken noodle soup? I told you, there’s no need for that.”

“If you don’t want it I’ll have it. Don’t change the subject. Why are you punishing Charlie for behavior that entertains you?”

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m not! I guess obedience just entertains me more. And hurting them entertains me more.” I smirk. “And I’ve got you. You can entertain me by disrespecting me. By acting like we’re equals. They can entertain me by going from snarling at me in anger to begging for mercy in a matter of seconds.”

“I see. And you don’t think that will ever get old?”

“Nope!” This is a conversation we’ve had several times before. I think Peyton has a poor memory.

“Why would it stay entertaining when nothing else does?”

“I don’t know why, but I know it does. I’ve been doing this longer than I’ve done anything else, and it’s still not boring. Haven’t figured out why yet, but I’m sure I will. I have all the time in the world.”

“Right. Well, what else happened on Liam’s anniversary?”

“Oh, I took them to an amusement park! Bunny and Puppy, I mean. They didn’t have the big reactions I was hoping for, but it was still fun. I haven’t ridden rollar coasters for a while. Then Puppy and me made S’mores and watched a movie while Bunny cried or something in his room.”

“Because of his migraine?”

“His headache. Are you assuming it’s a migraine because he was crying over it? He cries over a lot of things. I don’t know what kind of headache it is, I’ve never asked about if it only affects one side of his head or makes his vision blurry.”

“So you just don’t care at all about what kind of damage you did to his brain.”

“I didn’t do it! He tripped!”

“And I’m sure the repeated concussions you gave him before that had no impact at all. Seriously, though. He could die. I thought you only want them to die when you choose it.”

“He’s fine. None of his symptoms have been getting worse. I think.”

“Jane!”

“I gave him an MRI! I know where the issues are and that they’re not fatal. Relax.”

“Y’know, if you got him some migraine medication- or any pain relief medication- he would be less whiny about the headaches. And be able to do the things you want him to be able to do.”

“He hasn’t earned that. He’s free to ask for it the next time he earns a reward.”

“I’m just pointing out that if his headaches are annoying you, it’s completely in your power to make his headaches easier to deal with.”

“Hmm… if I gave him medicine for it, I could threaten to take it away to keep him in line…”

Peyton pours me a bowl of chicken noodle soup. “Hopefully, that won’t seem as appealing once you have a full stomach. Eat.”

~~

Diya is having trouble convincing eir new friends to stage a rescue mission for people they don’t know.

“Come on! We all know what it’s like to trapped like that, don’t we? I can’t just leave them there, knowing they’re still being hurt.”

“Didn’t one of them break your fingers?” Karen asks.

“Yes, but they obviously thought it was their only option. They were crying, Barron, they didn’t want to. And even if they did, no one deserves to be stuck there.”

Barron jumps in. “We don’t even know what the monster is, though. What makes you so confident you can get past her?”

“You! Your powers! You can block her out, if only for long enough to get the three of them out. Or more, do you think there might be more?”

Barron figits with its bracelets. “That’s a lot of pressure on me, isn’t it? If you get caught, it would be my fault.”

Diya frowns. “It wouldn’t be your fault. This is my idea, and… I’ll do it with or without you.”

“Sheesh. This is really important to you?”

“It is.”

“Alright, alright. You’ll have to give me a few days to get the spells prepared.”

“Thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise. Karen? Are you going to come?”

Karen grimaces. “I’ll follow you. If things get too dangerous, I will leave.”

“Good enough! Okay, we’ve got a few days to plan while Barron prepares its spells. How should we approach this?”

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

[beigehearts]

BRO IVE BEEN WAITING FOR A POLY ASK: AND A YANDERE ONE??? THIS IS A GOLD MINE Thank you so much butterscotch princess😭

CW: mental/physical abuse, kidnap, fighting

Of course you love the both of them, if not you wouldn't be here. Or at least you did love them. They were a couple and you weren't particularly interested in being a home wrecker. Yet, you can't hide anything from these two, they're definitely not stupid. To be honest things were becoming stale for Hisoka, and that's when they invited you into their relationship. Everything seemed so perfect at first, two men that you loved dearly who provided a balanced life. You could go to Hisoka for something exciting and new, but sit down with Illumi and relax. The three of you made a power throuple. But if it seems like it is too good to be true, it is. It really was too good.

It had been a few months into the relationship when there were red flags. Illumi and Hisoka never fought for each other, they never had to. You made sure they had their own time with each other. It was when it came to you that there was a problem. Constant arguing and fights over who gets to spend time with you and enjoy your company. Your idea of all of you hanging out was shut down, they each wanted their alone time with you. It went on like this for a few months. Until one day, it all stopped.

Suddenly it seemed as if your boyfriends had never fought in the first place. They never argued over spending time with you, they just knew when they could be with you one on one. At first you thought it was great. You were worried about their relationship for one another, and if it would last much longer like this. They must have talked about it civilly, otherwise it couldn't be so easy for them.

All of the red flags had been lowered and it was back to the honeymoon phase. The three of you got to cuddle at night while you could still have coffee with just one of them in the morning, or they could together. Honestly you weren't so sure about a polyamorous relationship in the beginning, but now you wouldn't change it for the world. Well, at that time you wouldn't have.

Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and you did not see it coming. Whenever you planned to go out, Hisoka and Illumi seemed to be on the same page about you not leaving. ----

"Hey, I'm gonna go hang out with some friends, I'll see you guys later!" You called out as you tied your shoes.

Illumi began taking off your coat and now you were very confused. "You shouldn't go out." He stated.

Hisoka chimed in from the kitchen while he made coffee, "It's going to rain, we don't want you to get caught in a storm."

"I'll just bring an umbrella, and anyway, Daisy will just drive me home." You responded.

Illumi shook his head and hung up your coat, "The news said it would be really bad today."

Hisoka added, "You guys may not even be able to drive in that kind of rain."

---- Everytime it went like this, there was always an excuse. It even got so bad that you were fired from your job. You spend every day at home now. Any time you even mention leaving anymore now, it isn't just excuses. "You won't be able to protect yourself." "Fine, if you get hurt it's your fault." "You can't apply to another job, you really think you can get another one after being fired?" Always something, and it's really starting to get to you. Soon enough it only escalated at it had been. You got dressed to leave and ignored their excuses, opening the door and stepping out. That's when it happened, that's when everything really changed. As you went to shut the door behind yourself, it slammed shut. It slammed shut right on your fingers.

Illumi came out and carried you back inside while you gasped and cradled your hand to your chest. "This is what happens when you don't listen to us. You'll get hurt." That's when you realized how bad things really had gotten. You were pretty sure that three of your fingers were broken, but Illumi wrapped them up with a splint and called it a day.

You just can't do this anymore. If they aren't going to let you leave, then you're going to have to sneak out. Or devise a plan. Of course Hisoka went through your messages, but that would be perfect for your plan. You managed to create a text chain with your 'sick older sister'. She asked that you come to see her ASAP because she is not doing well. This is something that they would allow you to do since it would be a one time thing.

As you laced your shoes and shrugged on a jacket, Hisoka and Illumi watched. Hisoka's hand was wrapped around Illumi's waist, and you could see his anxious grip on him.

"Okay, I'll be back at 4 pm." You had learned to lie through your teeth like a pro.

Hisoka forced a smile and nodded, "Illumi will be there to pick you up."

You give the both of them a quick kiss on the cheek and trot out of the door while waving. "See you soon!"

The sound of the door clicking closed behind you was the sound of jail break. You couldn't help it... You skipped down the hallway while giggling, until your skip turned into a run. And when you turned around? No one was there.

----

Killua and Gon were a god send. They accepted you as a person and your friendship became unbreakable. Each day when you woke up, you were excited to face the day. Most of your free time is spent with these two goof balls. If not with them, you're working.

They swung by your workplace when your shift ended so you guys could hangout. While these two are younger than you, they're very mature. Sometimes. And all of their friends are your friends, Kurapika and Leorio who are closer to your age. You would hang out with them too if it weren't for the fact they were always out of town for work.

The three of you make your way to the convenience store. Killua had been begging for the past two days that you guys go get Choco Robots.

Gon checks his phone and announces, "Kurapika and Leorio will be back tomorrow! Leorio said they got a hotel room for the night and would be back to travelling by tomorrow."

You and Killua know that means they're sharing a bed, but Gon is oblivious. And it's really not important for Gon to know at the moment.

Killua throws his arms in the air and yawns, "You always get off work so late. Why can't you work any earlier?"

"Tell that to my manager, she's the one in control of that." You retort.

An idea pops into Gon's head and you can tell because his eyes light up. "Instead of going all the way home, you should sleep over with us tonight! Alluka would love to see you again!"

"You know that her place is closer to us right now than ours, right?" Killua asks.

Gon's eyebrows furrow and he puts a finger to his lip, "Oh yeah..."

The convenience store's doors slide open and make a quiet 'ding' sound. Killua makes a bee line for the Choco Robots and begins putting the whole stock into a basket. You and Gon look at the drinks section and he settles on some strawberry lemonade. Besides the sleeping cashier, you three are the only ones perusing through the gas station sized mart.

Gon is pointing out the condoms and asking what they are when the soft 'ding' of the door sounds out. Killua is blushing and telling him to put the box back while you hold back laughter.

"Gon! Stop it! Just- just put them back!" He stutters out. They may have seemed mature for their age at first, but moments like this make you question it.

You feel a hot breath on the back of your neck and the voice to follow shakes you to your core.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

You whip around and push Hisoka away from you, it doesn't do anything but he does step back. Next to him is Illumi, eyeing not only you but his little brother. You knew they were brothers because Killua told you, but you never expected to see them in the same room together.

Killua's eyes go wide and Gon is already in a defensive position.

Ilumi takes his attention away from Killua and he leers at you instead. "That was a long trip to the hospital. Did you get lost leaving the building?"

"Hey! Why don't you just leave y/n alone?!" Gon barks at them.

It all happens in seconds, if you had blinked you would have missed it. Killua is slammed into the floor and his head makes a hard 'clunk' sound. Before Gon has the chance to attack, he's throw into a display rack, and tumbles to the ground. Killua is too dazed to react. Hisoka makes sure Gon can't get back up by stomping on his stomach, making him cough up blood.

Your last moment of freedom is spent by watching your friends be beat up. A cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, and your arms are held behind your back. It smells heavily like cleaning supplies, potent ones. It takes a few breaths before you get dizzy, and until you begin losing control of your body. Hisoka is bent down in front of you and he places a kiss to your forehead.

You wish you knew what he said, but you've already succumbed to unconsciousness. Your freedom is relinquished once again.

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago garcia x reader (nine)

Word Count: 2.3k+

Excerpt: “He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.”

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, cursing, uhhh I think that’s it?

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER FIFTH — DAY TWO

Santi isn’t sure who calls her parents, but they’re in the waiting room the next morning and while he knows that they have every right to be there, he wishes that they would just go away. Her mother is already talking about taking her “home” the second she’s released from the hospital.

He doesn’t have the energy to fight with them yet, doesn’t know how to tell her grieving parents that her home is with him. She belongs with him, he’ll take care of her.

But then again, he’s already failed once.

Maybe she won’t feel safe with him anymore.

Maybe she won’t feel safe in the new apartment, she won’t recognize it. Sure, she’ll look around and see familiar furniture, some pictures and the duvet she’d picked out herself. Nevada. Maybe she’ll smell Santi’s cologne in the air or the stench from the cigarettes he smokes when things get just a little too hard, but it’ll all be in a space that’s entirely new.

Did he make the right decision? Should he have stayed at the last place?

No. No, he doesn’t think that would’ve been smart either.

Maybe she does need to go with her parents, back to the house she grew up in, where her room hasn’t been touched since she was in high school and everything is familiar.

But then she says his name in her sleep, and he knows that he’s not going to be able to let her go.

He knows he can take care of her. He’ll do it right this time, he’ll never let a damn thing happen to her ever again.

So Santi shuts it down the moment her mother brings it up again, and he’s surprised that her father actually sides with him on it. It doesn’t turn into an argument like he thought it would and he’s beyond thankful for that.

She stays asleep for most of the day, only waking up for a little while at a time, and when she does, she refuses to take her eyes off of Santi. It only serves as further confirmation that she needs him, he’s the right decision.

Jay offers to stay with them for a while, thinking maybe they’ll both feel better with another set of eyes, a little added protection, and at first Santi shakes his head — he feels guilty for some reason, he doesn’t know exactly why but he feels like it’s too much.

But then she has a nightmare, and he watches as Jay immediately reaches out and touches her cheeks to let her know she’s not alone, she’s safe and they’re right there. Santi’s positive that Jay has noticed that he hasn’t touched her yet, and he also knows that she probably needs someone who will be able to give her physical reassurance when she wants it.

So he caves, only if Jay will take his bed while he crashes on the couch and of course Jay says no.

But it’s not something they really have to worry or argue about right then.

She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

OCTOBER SIXTH — DAY THREE

Every single news channel has been covering her return just as much, if not more, as her disappearance. They’re still looking for Nathan, but Santi’s sure they’ll never find him. Not anytime soon, at least.

He didn’t know if he’d dumped her with the intention of her being found alive or dead, but either way he has to know she’s been found and that they’re looking for him again with the same amount of ferocity as they had been when she first went missing. He hates to think about that, how after just a few months everything just seemed to die down for everyone else but those in his little circle, and even then sometimes he felt like the only one who still cared.

Santi shakes his head and pushes those thoughts away.

Her. He just needs to focus on her.

They’d gotten her temperature up, and the cocktail of medicine they’d been pushing for the last three days seem to be doing their job. Her scans all came back clear, no damage to her heart or brain. All in all, she’s responding well to treatment.

She’s still confused though, still disorientated whenever she wakes up but the doctors assure Santi that it’s completely normal and to be expected. He’d asked them how long it would take for her to become lucid and coherent, and they hadn’t really been able to give him an answer.

Could be a few days, could be another week.

But it’s okay, she needs to rest. She needs to rest and Santi needs to get a fucking grip on himself so he can be there for her when she’s finally fully conscious again.

He thinks the nurses have started to notice that he’s keeping his distance, and that they’ve been setting him up to touch her in small ways that he can never really say no to.

“Can you fix her blanket for me?”

“Hold her hand up while I replace the bandage on her IV?”

“Help me slide her over?”

He always does what’s asked of him, but his fingers never linger and he’s managed to do it all without directly touching her skin so far. The sweatshirt she’s in is good for more than just keeping her warm.

But still, he doesn’t really count it as touching her. Direct contact with her body isn’t something he can even imagine right now because he still wants to cry every time he pulls away from her, and he’s only touching a fucking piece of clothing she’s wearing.

Santi needs to get his shit figured out.

It’s not fair to her, not in the least.

So at three in the morning, when he knows it’s going to be another hour before her morning labs are drawn, when he knows that there won’t be a single person in to bother them until then, he gets out of the chair he’s been living in and moves to sit on the end of her bed.

She stirs, and the panic in her eyes is immediate. Her fingers tighten around the blanket and she looks like she’s getting ready to scream or cry out.

He hates it. He hates causing it even though he knows that he’s not really the reason behind it.

He clears his throat and whispers her name, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering.

She blinks, his voice clearly registering in her head though she still looks confused and unsure, but the terror melts away. She knows this is someone safe, someone that she can trust and someone who isn’t going to hurt her. She’s safe.

“Stay.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes again. “You always leave.”

He’s figured out that she thinks she’s dreaming every time she opens her eyes and sees him. She thinks that she’s going to wake up to Nathan and that Santiago will be gone.

It breaks his heart.

“You’re not dreaming sweetheart. You’re okay.”

She shakes her head again.

“I’m right here,” he repeats, taking a deep breath before he reaches his hand out, but he stops when he’s only an inch away.

There’s no heat radiating from her, and if he wasn’t standing there watching her breathe he’d be thinking the worst.

It finally hits Santi just how small and fragile she is.

And now he feels like if he touches her, he’ll break her.

He pulls his hand back.

He’ll try again tomorrow.

OCTOBER SEVENTH — DAY FOUR

It’s cold and dark and his voice is coming from all around her. He’s calling her name, threatening her with things that she tries so hard to block out but they still creep into her mind, filling her with even more panic and dread as she’s left to think about what he’s going to do to her once he finds her.

Nathan calls it “The Game”.

He gives her a thirty second head start, tells her to run as far and as fast as she can, and if she can get away, she’s free. She can go home.

But if he catches her, his twisted words become a reality. He’ll keep her chained up for a few days, or maybe it’s a couple weeks or even a month, she’s never really sure but then the cycle repeats.

And he always catches her, always. No matter how sure she is that she’s finally escaped, he’s always right there to pin her to the ground and have his way with her. He’s always there to crush her hope and what little faith she’s able to gain back in those brief moments of thinking she’s free.

She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind enough to focus. She needs to get moving.

She looks down to figure out which way she had come and there’s snow. She hates snow. She used to love it, back when her and Santi would go for walks around Christmas time, hot cocoa in hand with their arms linked together. She wonders if he’s put the tree up this year. She wonders if Christmas has already passed.

But per usual, that happy thought of Santiago is ripped away from her when she hears Nathan’s voice again, this time only closer. Her skin crawls.

She has to start running. She knows she’s not as fast as she used to be, she’s too weak, but she has to try.

God, she hates snow.

She never stands a chance. It’s always so easy for Nathan to follow her tracks, and it always feels like there are tiny little needles stabbing into her bare feet with each step she takes, but she doesn’t allow herself to feel it in the moment, no. She never thinks about the pain until The Game is over, because of course she’ll take that moment of pain in trade for freedom. She’ll take those pins in needles if it means she’s just one step closer to getting away.

She thinks she might have it this time. Nathan’s voice is far off again, and she can see something in the distance. A road, maybe.

Yes, a road. That was definitely a car zooming past.

She runs faster, that familiar hope blossoming in her chest. She’s so close, so so close. Just a few more yards-

But then there’s crushing weight on top of her, and rough hands grabbing at her hips and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

He found her, of course he found her.

She immediately starts to cry, kicking herself because she should have expected it, she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes so high. All Nathan does is laugh and pull her closer, and then she feels his hand move into her hair. He holds her head up so she can keep her eyes on the road while he gets himself ready to do what he always does.

She tries to just lay there, begging her mind to drift off towards Santi, towards her safe place. When she thinks about him instead of what’s happening, it’s not so bad. Santi makes it all better.

But then another car drives by, and then another, and another and she can’t focus on anything but the fact that she’d been so close. There were people right there, maybe close enough to hear her if she’s loud enough.

She screams.

She wakes up screaming.

She’s screaming and kicking and Santi’s immediately by her side, calling her name, begging her to look at him but she doesn’t hear a thing, doesn’t register it.

He calls out for a nurse, starting to panic, afraid that she’s hurt and in pain but then he hears his name leave her lips in a broken, mangled sob and he knows she must’ve been dreaming.

He wants to cry with her. He hates seeing her like this.

Two nurses rush into the room, trying to get her attention as well but to no avail. They’re asking her what hurts, what happened, but all she can do is thrash around and call out for Santi again.

Hearing her like that, it’s the final push he needs to finally reach out to her.

Santi takes her hand, kissing each of her knuckles once he feels like she’s not going to punch him while he whispers that it’s okay, he’s right here and he’s not leaving her. She’s not with Nathan, she’s not in danger. She’s okay.

She doesn’t calm down, not really, so beyond terrified that Santiago’s voice is nothing but a trick her mind is playing on her, that he is the dream, one her brain had created to block it all out.

He repeats his words a second time, moving one of his hands up to her cheek, and it seems to break her out of it just a little bit more. He brings the second one up so that he’s cupping her face, and he watches as she immediately melts into him.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, it’s okay. It’s me, Santi.”

She doesn’t open her eyes. He wishes she would, but he doesn’t expect her to, not really. She’s so tired and he’s sure crying has left her completely exhausted.

He knows he’s right when her breathing evens out again.

But he doesn’t let go. Now that he’s touched her, he doesn’t want to stop, even though he knows that once she’s coherent it’ll probably be the last thing she wants.

He’ll take it while he can get it though.

He holds her hand all night long.

[massivedrickhead]

ive been obsessed with the Olympics and can totally picture beca being an Olympic skateboarder for some reason? please could you do bechloe at the Olympics?

Read on AO3

Chloe knew that the cameras would find her in the stand, so she tried to keep the fear and, let’s admit it, lust off her face.

The fans loved hers and Beca’s relationship, and she knew the commentators would make a point to mention it.

How often did it happen that two Olympic athletes fell in love with each other? Yes, the Olympic village was usually a sex fest, but that didn’t always translate into long lasting relationships.

Not that Beca and Chloe had met in the Olympic village, for one this was the first time that skateboarding was an Olympic event. They had met at a party almost five years ago, introduced by mutual friends, and now here they were. Engaged to be married.

Chloe, at her second Olympic Games, had secured herself 2 medals for swimming - a silver medal in women’s 50m freestyle and a bronze in the 4x100m relay - and now Beca was about to skate in her first Olympic final.

And as calm and collected as Beca looked, rolling her board back and forth beneath her foot, Chloe couldn’t have been more nervous.

And watching Beca lift the bottom of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her eyes, showing off her toned stomach in the process, her tattooed arms visible thanks to her rolled up sleeves, Chloe couldn’t have been more turned on.

Chloe saw her crack a joke at Emily - the other American competitor - and then it was her turn to skate.

There would be three runs, the highest score wins. Beca would be the last to skate each time.

She watched Beca wave at the crowd, and roll her shoulders back a few times.

She had come off her board a few months ago, and Chloe knew her shoulder was still giving her trouble.

And then she was off, moving quickly around the Park course.

A DJ was playing music, but Chloe knew Beca had her own AirPods in, hidden under her helmet.

The commentator was calling out the tricks as she did them, but Chloe couldn’t follow along.

She knew there were some grinds, some flips, some grab tricks, but if she’s honest she’d never quite understood all the names of all the tricks. She’d tried to learn, and Beca had tried to explain it, but it just never sunk in.

Beca’s first run was almost at an end and then the board got away from her, and she hit the ground, skidding on her knees.

Chloe heard her shout of frustration from the stands, so she knew the cameras picked it up too.

Beca got up, grabbed her board, and skated out, back towards the other competitors.

They all patted her back, and Emily gave her a hug and said something that made her laugh.

Chloe watched as she took off her helmet and took a drink, her eyes never leaving the scoreboard.

Her score was okay, not medal winning, but not terrible. Beca nodded to herself, and then shrugged at the camera when she realised it was on her.

Sensing an opportunity, she picked up her board and flashed her ‘Trans Lives Matter’ sticker at the camera, hoping it got on TV before it cut away to the next competitor.

From the stands, Chloe continued to watch her with pride. She watched her talking with her coach and joking with the other athletes, and all she wanted to do was run down there and kiss her.

“Which is exactly why you’ll be in the stands and not sitting with the coaches,” Beca had told her the night before. “How am I meant to concentrate if I know you’re there waiting to kiss me?”

Beca’s second run was up, and this time Beca aimed her wave directly at Chloe. She made a heart sign with her hands that Chloe returned eagerly, before blowing her a kiss.

A few years ago, Beca might have complained that Chloe was ruining her street-cred, but she was past the point of caring about that now.

Her second run went much better, and she stayed on her board the entire time.

Her score shot her into first place, gold medal position.

Chloe was on her feet screaming and cheering as she watched Beca get mobbed by the other skaters. Emily was practically jumping on her back despite being a solid foot taller than her, and the American fans around Chloe were drowning out the commentators.

Once the cheering had calmed down, Chloe saw Beca wipe her face on her shirt again, this time to get rid of tears, not sweat.

This was more than Beca had expected. More than any of them had expected. She wasn’t predicted to be in the top 5, let alone gold medal position.

Chloe knew Beca was aiming for bronze at best. The two kids from Japan were going to dominate it, according to Beca, and Emily was predicted to place higher than her.

Watching the other girls skate was now almost as nerve wracking as watching Beca skate.

Predictably, the two Japanese girls crushed it, but Beca was still holding onto bronze.

On her final run, Emily fell, and remained in fourth place. Beca gave her a tight hug, and a small kiss on the side of the head. Chloe knew better than to feel jealous. They had been best friends for longer than Chloe had known either of them, and they saw each other as sisters.

Finally, it was time for Beca’s final run.

“Come on Beca,” Chloe muttered, not bothering to keep the fear from her face now.

Beca had a shot at gold, she was only a couple of points away. Chloe watched as she glanced over to her coach and nodded, and her stomach twisted.

That nod meant pull out all the stops. It meant trying tricks that were a bit more risky. More dangerous but, if she pulled them off, more impressive.

Beca was guaranteed a medal, but now she was about to find out which colour.

Chloe held her breath as Beca dropped into the course.

It was all going well. Beca was executing her tried and tested tricks without fault, but Chloe knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with that.

She watched as Beca shot up into the air, her knees close to her chest, her hand on her board, as she spun in mid air.

And then as Beca came down, the board slipped from underneath her and she fell backwards, her helmeted head hitting the concrete wall of the drop. Hard.

Chloe didn’t remember standing up and gripping the edge of the railings as she waited for Beca to get up. She also didn’t remember running down the stairs of the stands, pushing past people in order to get onto the course.

She definitely didn’t know how she got down the surprisingly intimidating drop to where Beca was currently lying, but she was at Beca’s side quicker than she thought possible.

She was awake, blinking slowly against the bright sunlight, but she didn’t seem to register that Chloe was there.

“Bec?”

“Don’t move her!”

Chloe turned to see Beca’s coach and the medic hurrying towards them.

“Ow,” Beca muttered.

“Beca!” Chloe said, tears of relief flowing down her cheeks. “You scared me, you asshole!”

With the help of the medic, Beca sat up, and they gently took off her helmet. “I didn’t get gold then?” She asked as they shone a small torch in her eyes

“No,” Chloe said, half crying, half laughing. “But you did make me look like a crazy person. How the fuck am I gonna be able to get out of here?”

“Hey, there are kids about,” Beca said, grinning and gesturing to the other competitors who were looking at her with genuine fear in their eyes. “And TV cameras. You’re gonna get a reputation as the bad girl of competitive swimming.”

“Shut up,” Chloe said. Now that the medics had moved out of the way, Chloe cupped Beca’s face in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Beca shrugged. “I fell off. No biggie.”

“Are you okay, though?”

“Well that depends, how many of you are there meant to be?” Beca asked, before letting out a snort of laughter at the panic on Chloe’s face. “I’m kidding! I’m fine. I’m just hurting a lot, all over.”

“Can you stand, Beca?” The medic asked.

“I think so,” Beca said. Chloe stood and held out her hands for Beca to take. Beca did, and Chloe pulled her to her feet. “You’re so strong.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said.

Beca was a little wobbly on her feet, but she still made sure to wave at the crowd and give them a thumbs up.

“Did I just win a fucking bronze medal at the Olympics?” She asked Chloe quietly, watching the fans cheering after she and Chloe were helped out of the course.

“Yep,” Chloe said, allowing herself to relax a little. “That’s really very sexy of you.”

“I know right?” Beca said, grinning as she draped her arms around Chloe’s shoulder again. “I’ve always said bronze was the sexiest medal.”

“And silver, obviously,” Chloe said as someone wrapped an American flag over their shoulders.

“Obviously.”

“Do you have your Pride flag with you?” Chloe asked.

“Obviously,” Beca said again, grinning as she pulled Chloe over to her bag so she could fish it out.

“Can the cameras see us here?”

“Dunno.”

“Eh, who cares,” Chloe said, before pulling Beca into a bruising kiss.

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.  

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could  meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies –  and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.  

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Caught In The Crossfire

Fandom: Chicago Fire / Chicago Med

Pairing: Blake Gallo x Reader

Warning/s: shooting

Word Count: 1,045

Request:  Can you do a fluffy Blake Gallo x reader where the reader is an intern at med and a gang starts shooting up the ED cause a couple of wounded higher up rivals were getting treated there and the reader gets shot in the crossfire protecting someone?

What started out as a normal day turned into anything but. 

You’d started as an intern at Med about 6 months prior, and although working in the ED had certainly been challenging, it was also the most rewarding experience of your life. It was also where you’d met your boyfriend, Blake Gallo, when his Firehouse had brought in the victim of a car crash that you were assigned to treating with your attending, Ethan Choi. 

Your day had started pretty normal, even though you were currently treating a gang member who’d been injured in a driveby shooting, one of his hands cuffed to the railing of the bed as you tried desperately to treat him.

“I gotta get out of here!” He kept telling you, moving around too much for you to insert an IV line.

“You’re in a hospital, you’ve been shot, if you leave now you won’t make it,” you calmly tried to tell him, glancing half with apology, half with irritation at the nurse waiting for you to complete the drip. She was merely looking back at you with sympathy, also new, Dr. Choi having left this part in your hands after making sure the wound was stabilised; a through and through, he hadn’t needed surgery.

That’s when your patient started to get even more erratic, knocking the line out of your hand entirely, his eyes going wide as he looked past you. “Oh hell no, no no no!”

You turned to see what he was looking at, barely registering the threat he was seeing until the two men who had just entered the ED removed automatic weapons from under their bulky coats. 

There was screaming as people dove for cover, security being too shocked to react in time as they began to open fire, spotting their target in your patient. The police officer on guard at your door had barely drawn his weapon when a bullet caught him, sending him to the ground. 

You barely had time to react, diving on instinct to protect the nurse on the otherside of the bay, herself too shocked to do anything but freeze in place as the bullets began to fly. You knocked her down and out of the way, a warm feeling spreading through your body as you landed.

Looking at her, you noticed red on her uniform, blood. She was bleeding, you thought at first.

“Are you okay? Are you hit?” You rattled off, quickly patting her down, but it was only when you looked back to her face that you realised she wasn’t concerned for herself, she was concerned for you.

It took you a moment to look down and see what had happened, a pool of red warmth spreading from your chest all over your white lab coat, and then you started to get dizzy.

You could still hear people screaming, but the shots had stopped, and you patient was still making enough noise that told you he was okay. 

That was good, you thought to yourself, before you promptly collapsed onto the floor, the world going dark around you as the nurse screamed for help.

-

You woke up to the beeping of machines, vision blurry, head pounding, and no sense of how long you’d been out. Squinting and blinking in the light, your eyes adjusted enough to see a figure hunched over in the chair to your right, head in hands, foot tapping in impatient worry. Gallo.

Moving slightly, your hand went up to the bandage on your chest, your other arm bangaged into a sling. Gallo looked up at the sound, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you awake. 

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting forward to take your hand as it came back down to your side, “I’m so glad you’re awake, you gave me quite a scare there.”

You groaned slightly, “did I get shot?” You asked. Stupid question in hindsight, but everything had happened so fast and you were still pretty out of it. Your chest didn’t even hurt, you must have been on some strong painkillers.

“Just a little bit yeah,” he replied with a weak smile, he looked like he’d barely slept, if at all.

“How long have I-” You tried to sit up slightly, but your head soon hit the pillow again, wincing at the effort. Gallo kept fast hold of your hand, giving it a tight squeeze as you took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself even though you were already lying down.

“It was a long surgery, touch and go, they moved you here last night, it’s about mid day now,” he told you, looking at your hands instead of your face as he spoke. You must have looked as bad as you felt, your head cloudy and groggy with the strain of remaining awake and focused. “You took a bullet to the chest, it nearly hit your heart.”

You laughed lightly, which was actually more painful than you’d expected. Gallo at you with surprise, clearly not finding this situation as funny as you just did. “It’s kind of funny,” you shrugged, he did not agree.

“What about this is funny?” He asked, baffled by your outburst and clearly thinking it had something to do with the drugs you’d been given.

“Well, I’m the one who’s supposed to be worried about you at work, not the other way around,” you explained, thinking about how Gallo’s expression when you first woke up probably mirrored your own on the days he was late home or did something reckless on the job. 

“Yeah well, don’t make a habit of it,” Gallo smiled, shaking his head, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he admitted. Your smile wavered, falling as you thought about everyone he’d already lost, a twinge of guilt going through you about trying to make light of the situation. 

“Oh, I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon,” you laced your fingers through his, ignoring the dull aches and pains as you shuffled into a slight sitting position, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he told you after a moment, the words not leaving their of your lips until now, but it felt right, in that moment, and you meant every word. 

[nick-thecreator]

Aftermath Revival: Human AU Part 3

(This is a flashback btw, there will be a lot of flashback chapters since Salvatore is explaining himself. Also, even though this is a full flashback, Sal is telling the story in a way that won't get the shit beaten out of him [Even though he doesn't really need to change it cause it was technically all Mother Miranda] and so it'll be shorter. He ain't sitting there, telling a half a year long story)

WARNING! Death; Blood; Child Death

Part 2 is right HERE

Part 1 is right HERE

The year was 1974, right in the middle of winter, and Salvatore had returned to the village after being sent out by his uncle for some medical/surgical training at a hospital nearby. A car ride after getting off of the train, and he was dog tired, but he had to get to his uncle first. He carried his bags to his house, unlocking the door, and placed his bags inside, before quickly shutting the door, dashing over to the clinic. He opened the door to the clinic, looking around to see if his uncle was around. Nobody was in there at the time, and a note had been left on top of his desk. He picked it up, putting on his reading glasses so he could read his uncle’s handwriting.

    It read, ‘Hey Sal, I had to meet up with Miranda for an important meeting, so sorry for not being there. Remember to see your father and family sometime today. Also, go to the church at 7pm today, okay? She wants to talk to you. 

Regards, Uncle Florin

    Ps. Remember what we’ve discussed before, about your “future position”, it’ll apply today.’

    He dropped the paper in shock. He had known this day would come, but never now. Maybe he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was. He placed his hand on his mouth, feeling some vomit come up his throat. He swallowed it back down, then tried to calm himself down with some deep breaths. He sighed, picking up the piece of paper. He folded it up, placing it into his pocket. He looked around the clinic again, going over to a shelf near the desk. He reached up to the tallest shelf and grabbed a briefcase. Pulling it down, he realized how heavy the contents really were. He placed the briefcase onto the desk, opening it. Inside was one of Miranda’s “bibles”, a med-kit, a bottle of what he assumed was rubbing alcohol, based on the smell, and a pastor uniform. He pulled out the uniform. It still had the blood stain from when he was 17 and had to work as a pastor for 6 months, having to work with animals a lot. 

He looked at his watch. 6:35pm. Dammit. The train had gotten to the station incredibly late, and the man who had driven him had stopped for gas and a weirdly long bathroom trip. The church was around a 20 minute walk away. He gulped, looking out the window as he placed the uniform down. The clinic was a ways away from the rest of the village, but he could still hear the activity of the village through the trees and gardens in between them. He stood away from the window, removing his clothes to put on the uniform. He considered washing himself off first, but he just settled with some of the herbs in his uncle’s drawer as cologne. He threw on his uniform, straightening it out so he’d look less like he had been traveling for around 4 hours. He put back on his fur-lined coat to keep warm, putting the rest of his clothes into an empty box, placing the box on his desk’s chair. He closed the briefcase, picking it up before locking up and leaving the clinic.

While walking there, he had to pass through the town. He was stopped a few times by different villagers, asking him how the hospital experience had been, or just what the hospital was like. Many of them had never even left the village before, nevermind going to a full fledged hospital. He kindly answered their questions with his regular doctor-esc demeanor. Sometimes he was stopped for a bit longer than just a couple questions, but he would quickly get back on track. The longest he had stopped was for a group of kids who ran by, with a few recognizing him. They asked where he had been, and what the hospital was like. He tried to keep going, but they had surrounded him before he could. It took their parents, who were slightly behind them, to pull them away so he could keep going. Before he was fully out of the village, he ran into a few more kids from the group, including a small girl with a bride doll. She was only a bit bigger than the doll, but seemed determined to bring it with her. They made eye contact, him waving at her.

“You need help with that?” He asked.

“No thank you mister,” She replied, putting the doll over her shoulder before walking off with the rest of the group, seeming to, on purposely, stay behind the group a little. He just smiled at her before resuming his walk.

 After a bit more walking, he finally reached the church. Looking down at his watch, it read ‘7:02’. Dammit. He formed his excuse in his head as knocked on the front door. Before he could land the last knock, the door was opened by Miranda. He smiled at her, before seeing her deadpan expression. Behind her stood one of her maids, a large case in her hands. 

“Hello Mother Mi-”

“What took you so long?” She asked, interrupting him.

“The train was late, the driver had to stop, and the villagers-”

“Nevermind. You’re here. That’s what matters. Come in.” She stood to the side as he stepped into the church. He looked around the room, noticing that, besides him, Miranda, and the maid, the room was empty of people.

“Hey, where is everyone-”

“That doesn’t matter. Follow me.” She gestured to him and the maid to follow her, walking over to one of the hallways. He quickly followed, the maid walking beside him. While walking, she turned down another hallway that went downstairs. He had been in the church before, almost all over it, except underneath the church. He had almost gone down there once, but he was dragged out by Miranda and brought back to his dad, who later scolded him. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, the maid stopping beside him.

“Doctor, are you okay?” The maid asked. Miranda heard her, turning around to face him.

“Come on Moreau, don’t waste my time,” She commanded sternly. He jumped a bit at her tone, quickly walking down the stairs and following her. She turned on her heels and continued to walk down the hallway to an operating room. Outside of the room stood Florin. When he saw Salvatore, he smiled at his nephew.

“Hey Sal, how was the hospital?” He asked, leaning on the wall.

“It went well-”

“That doesn’t matter now. Ready?” Miranda asked Florin. He rolled his eyes at her interruption.

“Yeah yeah, you have the case Sal?” Salvatore nodded, holding up the briefcase. “Everything still in it?” Salvatore nodded again. “Alright, we’re ready.”

“Good, the patient is in here. Do you need him?” She gestured to Florin.

“No, I should be good.”

“Alright, come in when you’re ready.” She opened the door, closing it on him before he could step in. His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder before he could open the door again.

“Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what you’re getting into?”

“Well, we’ve gone over it plenty of times, so, I’d assume so.”

“No, are you SURE SURE? No assumptions here, you know that.” Salvatore was surprised by his uncle’s tone. He had never been so upfront before.

“Yeah, what’s with the talk? You’ve been preparing me for my whole life, I can handle it-” Florin pulled Salvatore in for a hug.

“Good luck kid…” Salvatore hugged him back, kind of confused.

“Thanks man.” He heard a sniffle from his uncle. “What’s wrong-”

“You should know. We’ve talked about this. After this-” He pulled away from Salvatore, leaving his hand on his shoulder, a few tears in his eyes. “-I won’t be needed.” It finally clicked in his head. He had been told something similar in the past, but he had never considered the worst.

“What? Wait, why!?” He asked, now confused and upset.

“That doesn’t matter now, you’ll find out later.” Florin smiled. “I love you Sal. Never forget that.” He patted his shoulder, gesturing to the briefcase. “It’s in your hands now. Good luck.” Salvatore was about to cry, wanting to stop everything before it even began. However, he knew how important this day was. The day he would take on a village tradition. So he sucked it up, wiped away the tears he had, and nodded, assuring that he was ready. Florin nodded back, smiling.

“Thanks Uncle Florin.” He smiled before opening the door, stepping in. He looked around the operating room. It was faintly lit, a large table in the middle of the room with the patient placed on it. Small tables were around the larger one, tools laid out neatly on them. He looked up to Miranda, who was standing on the other side of the table. She had changed attire in the time that he was talking to Florin. Beside her was a small table with a jar on top of it. The jar contained some black thing floating in a somewhat dirty liquid. That must have been that “Cadou”, labeled as such.

“Come closer, we have work to start,” She stated. He walked a bit closer, his eyes looking down to the patient. His eyes went wide when he saw the patient. They seemed to be a girl in their early teens, sedated by an IV that was running a bluish tinted fluid into her arm.

“Um… Mother-”

“No questions now. We must start before the effects wear off-”

“Who is this?” He asked. She grabbed a journal, holding it so she could read it.

“This is Bernadette. She is 13 years old, and-”

“I was never told that I’d be working on a child,” He interrupted. She looked up, clearly irritated.

“You were told that you’d have to work with villagers. Ages were never specified.” She looked back down at the book. “We will be placing the Cadou in the-”

“Why are we testing on a CHILD?” He asked, in semi-shock. “This is unethical-”

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER HOW OLD SHE IS!” She screeched at him, her face going red. He jumped back in shock, before trying to stand his ground again.

“Still. Why a child? Out of anyone?” She clenched the journal.

“So-” She harshly closed the book. “You don’t want to do this then?”

“Not on a child, no. I was told that we would be using adults only, never kids.”

“And why do you give a shit?”

“You know that people have died in these surgeries before. Why would someone want to risk a child’s life like this? And the child of a leading family for fucks sake! And even if she did live, she could become a lycan! Or worse, if there even is worse…” She sighed, walking around the table, getting up in Salvatore’s face.

“You think you have a choice in this?” She asked firmly, using her powers to wrap a mold vine around his neck. “Because you don’t.” He lifted him up a bit, lifting herself up to stand above him. The vine choked him slightly, but not enough to cut off enough air to make him pass out. “YOU work for ME, and will do as I say.” She got closer to his face. “Your cooperation can save you a lot of hardship, but a lack of such will because only more heartache on your end, and trust me, you’ll be alive to experience EVERY. FUCKING. SECOND of it.” She basically spat those words at him as he stared up at her in fear. “So, have you changed your mind?” He quickly nodded, in fear for his life. “Good.” She dropped him back on the floor, him almost falling over from the force of the fall. She lowered herself down slowly, going back to the other side of the table. “If an outburst like that happens again, I won’t be as forgiving. So, for now, just this once, let’s put this under the rug.” He nodded again. “Anyway-” She picked up the journal again. “We will be placing the Cadou in the chest cavity, near the heart. She has already been undressed and cleaned for surgery. Ready to begin.” She looked back up at him, glaring at him.

    “Um- Yes… yes,” He replied, looking down at Bernadette.

    “Alright then, there are some gloves, a mask, and a sterile uniform over there.” She pointed over to a chair in the corner, a surgeon’s uniform, neatly folded on the seat. He went over to it, picking up the uniform. He looked back over to her as she pointed to a side room. He just went in, putting on the uniform, and stepped out, placing his pastor uniform and the briefcase on the corner seat. He walked back over to the operating table, putting on the gloves and mask that were placed on one of the smaller tables. His neck started to feel like it was burning, but he didn’t want to make her even more mad, so he didn’t complain. He moved the light over the patient so he could see what he was doing better. She was naked for the most part, besides a towel covering up her lower half. He was used to working on women, so the sight of breasts didn’t bother him. She had dotted lines across her chest, marking where to cut. Miranda placed a diagram of what to do on a stand next to her so it faced Salvatore. She then tested to see if she would awaken from pain. She did this by using one of her mold vines to smack her across the face. She then used a pointed vine to stab her in the shoulder. Bernadette didn’t even flinch, being in such a deep sleep. Miranda looked back up at Salvatore. “Well, Doctor, begin.” Salvatore gulped, picking up a scalpel, trying to get into the motions as he held the scalpel shakily. The scalpel slowly stopped shaking, being absolutely still before moving close to her chest. Miranda watched over his shoulder, some vines reaching around the table, ready to hand him tools when he needed them.

    The surgery lasted around 5 hours, mainly because it went from the insertion of the Cadou, to trying to save her from it. It was eating at her body, so they rushed to remove it before it could do any major damage. However, it had already taken a toll before they could fully remove it, as it had clung to her heart and started to eat at it. Salvatore had to remove her heart to even attempt to remove the Cadou, so Miranda tried to replace it with some mold. Unfortunately, the mold replica didn’t work, so Bernadette eventually died of blood loss. Once they knew she was beyond saving and brain-dead, they stood over her body, Miranda being disappointed in the turnout. Salvatore, however, was incredibly distraught. He could feel tears forming in his eyes as he looked back up at Miranda. She looked up at him as well.

    “Don’t blame yourself, the Cadou has different reactions to different people. You did well this time. Just keep it to yourself next time,” She told him, walking away from the table to the sink, removing her gloves and washing her hands. He just stood there in silence, looking down at his own hands. He could even believe what he had just done. Once she was down washing her hands, he went over to the same sink, removing her blood-stained gloves before washing the blood off of his hands and face, since some had spurted during surgery. When washing his face, he could feel a few tears escape from his eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was from what had happened, or from the soap that had accidentally fallen into her eyes. He didn’t feel that water would be enough to get her blood off of his face. Once done, he turned to the chair in the corner, picking up the pastor uniform and the briefcase. He went into the side room as Miranda started to disinfect the tools before disposing of the body.

    He locked the door of the side room before starting to take off the uniform, putting on the pastor uniform. While doing so, he brushed his neck with the fabric, making his neck sting. He looked in the mirror, seeing that some cuts we left on his neck after Miranda’s vine had been around his neck. He opened the briefcase, taking out the med-kit and the rubbing alcohol. He started to apply the rubbing alcohol to his cuts, flinching a bit at the sting. He was able to wrap his neck with a bandage, realizing that the briefcase was less for any patient, and more so for himself. He sighed after doing so, putting the stuff back into the briefcase. He stepped out of the side room, the blood-stained surgeon’s uniform draped over his arm.

    “Um, Mother Miranda?” She turned to him, almost done cleaning the large table, Bernadette nowhere to be seen.

    “Yes?”

    “Where should I put this?” He gestured to the clothes on his arm.

    “You can just put them on that table there.” She pointed to one of the smaller tables next to the larger one, the tools having been put away. He placed them on the smaller table, then headed to the door. “Oh, Doctor?”

    “Yes Mother?” He asked, just wanting to leave the church at this point.

    “Will you inform the Beneviento family at some point this week of her death. Just say that she was killed by a bear, and that her body couldn’t have been retrieved.” His eyes went wide a bit. He had heard his uncle use the same excuse when it came to other deaths in the village. It was both nice and unnerving to find out what the true reason was. It did make sense, considering how deep in the woods the village was and the abundance of ways to get lost and die out here. He just nodded as he opened the door, quickly stepping out of the room. He quickly walked down the hallways, stepping out of the church before sliding down the closed door, starting to cry. He loathed the idea of having to tell a family that their child had died, nevermind having to lie about the cause. He hadn’t seen his uncle either, knowing the worst, but not being able to fully face it after what had happened. He put his face in his hands, feeling tears stream down his face...

[thisweekingundamwing]

This Week in Gundam Wing 11-17 April 2021

Here’s this week’s roundup! April 11-17th!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

EmiAysu

Floors are Friends https://archiveofourown.org/works/3060526

Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei, Quatre Raberba Winner, Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton

A simple raid goes drastically wrong.

lunesolei

Of Starting Pistols and Old Memories (Ch. 4) https://archiveofourown.org/works/30313110

Trowa Barton/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton & Heero Yuy, Mariemaia Khushrenada & Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton & Mariemaia Khushrenada, Mariemaia Khushrenada & Lady Une

Post-Endless Waltz, Recovery, Coming of Age, Background Slash, could be friendship too

Mariemaia hoists herself out. Her feet slip on the smooth floor and gooseflesh erupts on her arms and back. She climbs onto the block and wiggles her feet against the gritty texture. A couple deep breaths, back arched, legs bent, and toes dug in. Her eyes narrow as she moves her arms into position. “One-”

“Go.” His voice startles her and she does a half jump, landing in the water in an undignified mess. She resurfaces and he gestures for her to resume her position. “Lady Une says you’re on the swim team, you shouldn’t be scared to jump in. Go when I say go.”

“I go when I want to go,” she growls. She isn’t sure how she feels about Lady Une telling others about her activities. Especially him. She resumes position though.

“Not if you want to win.” Her shoulders stiffen. “Loosen up. Go.”

All Mariemaia wants is to be left alone while she practices her swimming and tries to survive the school year. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised that doesn’t happen - it’s not like the universe has been on her side in the past. Especially when it comes to meddlesome Gundam pilots.

katopiyo

Ice https://archiveofourown.org/works/30480678

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner

Canon Insert,Coping…?

Anything that happens, happens, Duo tells himself, but that doesn’t mean that he never gets upset.

Aphelion https://archiveofourown.org/works/30705581

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner

Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Early Relationship, Domestic Bullshit, Mindless Fluff, Bread is god is bread

“I don’t inhale cake-” Quatre protests, but gets hit in the nose with another chocolate chip. “Stop wasting food!”

Bluff https://archiveofourown.org/works/30724526

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner

Taking in the light of Earth’s glowing full moon, Quatre felt as though he could believe in anything.

He could use some of that faith right now.

@tziganecaffiends

They Stumble That Run Fast https://archiveofourown.org/works/30701066?view_adult=true

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Chang Wufei, Treize Khushrenada, Duo Maxwell, Vingt Khushrenada

Explicit, Rape/Non-Con, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Business Trip, Sex Work, teen wolf cameos - Freeform, MHA cameos, Cameos, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Pretty Woman References, Waiting, Power Imbalance, Power Dynamics, power imbalance awareness, Tropes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Team as Family, Dysfunctional Family, Wufei and Duo go into business, Post-Eve Wars (Gundam Wing), Angst with a Happy Ending, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed

His first knock was met by the door opening immediately. Five looked... well, honestly, Treize would have jumped that in a heartbeat, money or no money. He was shorter than Treize by a few inches, hair rumpled, pillow lines on his face. "He's definitely going to kill me," Five sighed, and moved to allow Treize to step into the room.

Treize waited until he closed the door, and then closed the space between them, setting hands curiously at Five's waist to see how immediately receptive he was. His pajamas matched, soft silk, worn a little and softened in a way that told him it wasn't an affectation. "He won't have to know. Hello."

Boundless as the Sea https://archiveofourown.org/works/30747161/chapters/75887108

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Chang Wufei, Treize Khushrenada, Lady Une

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Sexual Slavery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape, Past Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Post-War, Post-Eve Wars (Gundam Wing), Survival, Frottage, Demisexuality, Ongoing trauma and assault, but it ends well, Tropes, Dermail makes a handy big bastard, Oz wins, Pegging

Rolling over hurt. Wufei gave a grunt of sound, body aching even as he forced his eyes open to a ceiling that he didn't recognize. It was white with no embellishments, no gold flake, nothing, and adrenaline hit his bloodstream, forcing him up more quickly than was good for him.

He didn't know where he was. The windows were tall and arched, the walls were a soft blue, and the floor looked to be wood, natural and well-waxed. A chair pulled up to the side of the bed, a pillow and a blanket piled into it, and he could distantly hear classical music.

Wufei wasn't in his room, and he wasn't in any room in the brothel. Wufei wasn't even sure as to precisely when he should start panicking, but the best answer seemed to be any second now.

weno

Perfect https://archiveofourown.org/works/30472821

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner

Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Violins, quat perfectn’t, Short One Shot

No violins were harmed in the making of this fic

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@alphaikaros​

https://alphaikaros.tumblr.com/post/648127388883058688/month-of-quatre

Quatre Raberba Winner

@cloakandfire​

https://cloakandfire.tumblr.com/post/648310393547227136/college-au-in-which-zechs-and-noin-learn-anatomy

Zechs & Noin

@duointherain​

https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/648670572325306368

Heero Yuy

@gwkimmy​

https://gwkimmy.tumblr.com/post/647883786946805760/blargh-im-late-colored-and-edited-a-manga-cap

Relena Darlian-Peacecraft

@keiko1183​

https://keiko1183.tumblr.com/post/647434916737548288/its-3x4-day-again

Trowa/Quatre

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@cuteciboulette​

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/648271266529394688/look-ive-found-my-scan-the-cover-of-heero

Heero Neko

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/648361841609818112/heero-koneko-grow-up-well-p-link-to-dwl-behind

Heero-koneko

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/648543074355757056/doujinshika-25-ans-im-really-not-into-that

Noah (Duo & Quatre)

@meggie-stardust​

https://meggie-stardust.tumblr.com/post/648413786056851456/was-doing-gw-stuff-with-bettertasting-last-night

Relena’s friends

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine​

Rhythm Generation 2021

Contributor Applications are Closed! https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/647270927091007488/applications-are-officially-closed-thanks-to#notes

twitter link: https://twitter.com/gundamwingzine/status/1335010999401762816

Meet the Mods: https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/636708854145613824/come-on-over-a-meet-your-2021-zine-mod-team-head

Check out the blog for the Zine schedule!

@gundam-wing-pride

Gundam Wing Pride 2k21, 30 Days of Pride https://gundam-wing-pride.tumblr.com/post/648237909672083456/incoming-transmission-faq

@gwartserver

Month of Quatre https://gwartserver.tumblr.com/post/647282114067333120/month-of-quatre

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, April 23rd! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/648720472593268738/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-april

In need of Summer/Fall(Autumn) prompts!

@gwlemonyshenanigans

- May 1-31: Lemony Shenanigans will be posting works!

Spotlight Friday! https://gwlemonyshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/648674843443822592/spotlight-friday

@oztober-rust

Welcome to Oztober Rust

We’re an up and coming Gundam Wing event with a slight twist! This page is still a work in progress, but you’re welcome to join us over on discord and get a feel for the event.

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Summer Event Voting https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/646220556727877633/seasons-of-gundamwing-okay-wingers-its-time-to

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/644080386309275648/events-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!