#like the gods all have eyes in their visors

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; “a pocketful of Kons”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“We aren’t sure if Kal isn’t still gone,” Diana says, still watching Cas thoughtfully even as he sulks against Odie’s side. “No one in the League has managed to make any contact with the man in Metropolis wearing his face.” 

“Men,” a voice corrects, and Diana–pauses. Cassie jumps in surprise and whips around, and standing in the hall behind them is a Green Lantern. She doesn’t know his name, but he’s dark-skinned and broad-shouldered with buzzed-short hair, a close-cropped goatee, and a serious expression, and there’s a tall and slender Pocket with magenta-bright skin perched on his shoulder in a Green Lantern uniform of her own. 

And they’re both looking very intently at Cas. 

“What?” Cassie says stupidly. Gods, there are way too many Green Lanterns to keep track of, she swears. Isn’t there only supposed to be one a sector or something? She swore there was only supposed to be one a sector. 

“Men,” Green Lantern repeats matter-of-factly. “There’s two of them. The cyborg and the one in the visor. And that’s not including the third guy, who might be wearing one of the most advanced sets of mechanized armor I’ve ever seen on this planet or might be one of the most advanced androids I’ve ever seen on this planet. Which, you know, the fact we can’t tell either way definitely puts a lot of weight on the word ‘advanced’ in that sentence. And either way, he’s got the cape and the ‘S’ on just the same as the other two; his versions are just welded on.” 

“There’s–three?!” Cassie asks in bewilderment, staring at him in disbelief. That’s–what? How–? 

“We also had somebody call in about an apparent Pocket of Superman manifesting this morning,” Green Lantern adds, flicking his eyes back to Cas and raising a pointed eyebrow at him. “Who was, for the record, not you, Princess.” 

“Hm,” Diana says. Cas sits up on her shoulder, looking indignant again. 

“Wondy!” he says accusingly, then zips back to Cassie’s shoulder and wraps his arms around her neck, giving Green Lantern a dirty look as he does. Green Lantern’s Pocket lets out a quiet little titter of a laugh, half-covering her mouth with her fingertips as she does. Cas grumbles and clings harder to Cassie’s neck. 

Cassie . . . does not know how to feel about this. If there’s multiple people passing for Superman right now . . . does that mean Cas is one of them, then? Because in that case–she doesn’t even know who he is, in that case. He’s, like–a total stranger, not even someone Diana knows. He might even be–

No, he can’t be a supervillain. Not whoever Cas came from. 

. . . but why else would someone be pretending to be Superman? 

“No one in the community’s managed to make contact with a single one of the three, but the public’s sure gotten them all on video and online,” Green Lantern says. “They’ve all been very publicly visible and very publicly not around anyone in a superhero costume. Specifically, there’s been a very notable lack of Supergirl around any of them.” 

“Cas can’t be a fake,” Cassie says abruptly, tightening her hands together behind her back. That’s not how Pockets work; they don’t just look like whoever the person they came from might’ve disguised themselves, they look the way whoever the person they came from sees themselves. “He’d have his real face if he were, not Superman’s.” 

Cas makes a–noise. A weird noise. Cassie glances towards him reflexively, and he’s touching his face with both hands, looking–worried? Nervous? 

Upset, maybe. 

“Wondy?” he says, his very small voice even smaller than usual and his expression–distressed, now. Cassie feels her heart clench tightly in her chest and brings her own hands up to wrap around him; cup him protectively. 

“I know you’re not a fake,” she tells him. He makes a worried little noise and burrows in against her neck, half-clinging to her. 

“You do realize a Pocket might look like Superman without being Superman if one of these three actually believes he’s Superman,” Green Lantern says. “Which at least two of them are currently claiming to.” 

“. . . yes,” Diana agrees slowly, her expression considering. “But do any of them look like Castor?” 

“What?” Green Lantern says with a frown. 

“Wonder Girl’s Pocket,” Diana clarifies. “Do any of the alleged Supermen resemble him in any manner besides their shared face? He did not manifest with a visor or any sign of cybernetic parts. Certainly not any armor. Did he, Wonder Girl?” 

“No,” Cassie says, clutching Cas a little protectively and trying not to shoot Green Lantern a dirty look. Just–he thinks Cas is fake, and he’s trying to convince Diana he’s fake, so that’s not exactly easy not to do. “He didn’t. He showed up just like this.” 

“So you’re telling me we should be expecting Imposter Number Four?” Green Lantern asks, and Cassie bristles after all. 

“He’s not an imposter!” she snaps. “Or like, a bad guy or whatever you’re thinking! Cas isn’t like that!” 

“Someone deluded into thinking they’re Superman while carrying Superman’s powers could still be dangerous whether they’re a ‘bad guy’ or not,” Green Lantern says. “Supergirl’s already been a problem that way. It isn’t safe to assume benevolent intentions here.” 

Cassie would probably be a little more willing to listen to Green Lantern’s concerns if her mom hadn’t already been so awful to Cas, because–he’s not actually saying anything that isn’t true, and he’s not saying it any way but matter-of-fact. He’s just being careful, not actually making any accusations. 

But her mom was already that awful to Cas, so she’s really not in the mood to put up with anyone else saying things like that about her soulmate. 

[acedragontrainer]

I procrastinated figuring out how to use my fancy new sewing machine SO hard i made a quilt design about it, and then started making the quilt, with the sewing machine, so i think i’m procrastinating so hard it’s coming back around into productivity? this is wayyyy too fucking ambitious for my first quilt and i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing but! that will not stop me!

originally the design was much larger and for a queen size, and then i got out a yardstick and realized that’s way too fucking big so i downsized the scale and moved things around and added more buy’cese, i’m not sold on the background color and i’m prob not going to embroider the crusader’s emblem or the vizsla emblem like i had planned bc it stands out too much, but i was thinking of stitching the mythosaur symbol down the vertical sides, but i could also do lines of “bic cuyir te ara” since i’m already gonna be hand stitching so much goddamn mando’a

i’m pretty sure i can program custom embroidery patterns into my fancy machine (which is the whole thing i’m procrastinating about so finishing all the buy’cese will force me to find out) so i want to do the resol’nare in gold, but i don’t think anything with gold filament is gonna be strong enough for that so i may do yellow and embroider a bit in gold filament just to get around that, and then i’m still sorting through what patterns i wanna do across the quilt, i was thinking random concentric squares of lines of text, that way i could do kote darasuum around where cody is and a much bigger one spreading from the taung at the bottom with a version of dha werda verda (still haven’t figured out which one to use), but then i don’t know what to do about the rest of the quilt, and like do i really want to hand stitch everything in mando’a characters (resigned)

so obviously what i’m using here is a mix of different canons with some fanon sprinkled in (sue me, canon mandalor the uniter fucking sucks, basic bitch buy’ce, so i replaced that one with the irl dude’s mandalorian oc of the same title bc quite frankly it’s more meaningful to the fandom and it looks fucking sick), some of them had very little canon material to work with so i tried my best to wing it (tarre vizsla didn’t really have a buy’ce per se so i’m still debating using matte black for that one), some i picked bc they looked cool and not because they’re relevant, some i left out purposefully

i started with the darksaber, because i thought “it’s smaller and just a bunch of straight lines, how hard can it be?” but it turns out needle-point turn on all those stupid tiny corners is, in fact, a new layer of hell i had previously remained oblivious to, but i still did it, and it’s only a little wonky

ok so the quality is shit, but it’ll look real nice when i fucking needle-point turn applique this shit to the top layer and then detail it all in silver when i’ve got all the sandwich together, and i’m real fucking proud of myself for getting the first bucket done, and it even mostly lays flat!

i’ve got this stupid shiny black fabric i’m using for all the visors and it is definitely painful as hell to work with but god does it look nice

[masatos-wig]

/// 2

[girl-lostconnection]

Continuation to this post, that came down to me like a message from a god.

“Lieutenant, you have to let go”, the voice is muffled, all sounds are, like you are underwater. The blood pumping in your ears is so loud you aren’t sure if you can still hear properly.

You aren’t sure if the rapid ascend of extraction shuttle didn’t burst your eardrums.

“Lieutenant, look at me.”, the voice is closer and you can’t help but curl away, your whole body tensing, grip tightening.

Why are they speaking to you? Why- shouldn’t there be medic by now? Shouldn’t someone come out? What’s going on?

There is a stubborn nagging feeling in your chest — poking and prodding, fraying your nerves, sending twitch to your nervous hands.

Your wrists ache, tension coming through them to your fingers, every knuckle burning but the pain is dull.

You are just so cold. Why are you so cold?

It’s not supposed to be so cold on the ship, you just paid for an upgrade, just fixed the ventilation and heating, just —

Another Helldiver crouches in front of you, their eyes unusually soft — glimmering through the visor of their helmet. You don’t know them, they probably came through on the SOS beacon you deployed, just a little too late. The mission is done.

You are out.

But you are wet and cold, lighter armour that let’s you run faster, that lets you get to the exfil as soon as possible is now clinging to your body — wet and sticky in a way that makes your skin crawl.

God, do you hate sweating that comes with running like a mad fucking chick through the terrain that’s never on your side.

“Lieutenant”, the voice of commander — their rank shining like a fucking supernova — is practically gentle. Almost soft.

Unusually so. It grates down on your nerves. Helldivers aren’t soft. You aren’t made to be soft, it gets trained out of you. You can’t be if you want to survive.

“Lieutenant”, but they are soft and you want to scream at them, rage and despair coiling in your belly, your wrists ache, your fingers burn. “You need to unclench your fingers”.

Your mind is so blank, so painfully empty but you just grip harder, your knees joining in, boxing in your valuable cargo against your body, your vision blurring for some reason.

“…Why?”, is a broken quiet whisper, your voice hoarse in a way that makes commander carefully cover your hands with theirs.

Prying your fingers open.

“They are gone, lieutenant”, their voice is just as quiet as yours when they get your right hand uncurled.

Off the vest of your teammate.

The notion hits you like a dumbbell, your eyes sliding to them, your whole body instinctively tries to curl harder around the diver you managed to shove into Pelikan-1 before it got off the ground.

It’s impossible.

You got them inside, you got them out, you two got back, what do they mean?

You saved them, you brought them back, medic will just need to patch them up, why isn’t medic there, why is no one here?

You don’t realise you are shaking until commander physically pulls you off the ground, their gauntlets cold against the torn fabric of your armour.

You don’t notice. You aren’t sure you remember how to breathe.

There is a small persistent sound, that reverberates through your chest, that rises to your head and your mind is so blank and you are shaking.

Sound just gets louder — raw and wet, broken wail no human should be able to make, no human should be made to make.

You realise that it’s yours only when commander forces your head in their shoulder, muffling it effectively.

“You did your due, lieutenant. Democracy’s dignity is protected”, they murmur the script you both know too well.

Words echo through your skull as another wail rocks your body with a force enough to make your knees buckle.

Whats good is your due right now? What’s use of this protection if you couldn’t save the young diver that answered your SOS beacon and bought you time?

“You did good. We’ll be able to bury them. You did good, lieutenant, you didn’t leave them behind”, the voice above your head is thick with something you can’t place and hands around you just get tighter.

Uniform clings to your skin, your body still shaking, awful sticky feeling making your skin crawl.

You don’t realise why until you get back to your quarters, mirror making you lightheaded with panic, suddenly clicking that it’s not sweat.

It’s blood

Gaz looks over your ship with the same excitement young cadets usually have, his eyes shining when he turns to you.

“This sure is something. You keep your bird in prime condition, captain”

You hum, helmet in your head shining with metal detailing in fluorescent lights of your ship.

Prime is an understatement. You poured all resources and money you earned into this ship. You still do.

“I was just wondering…”, sergeant starts carefully with the wariness of someone who knows that it’s not up to him to wonder. Not when it comes to things so much higher his pay grade. But you nod, encouraging him to speak his mind and he continues. “You don’t have med bay around here. Seems like you could use one in your line of work.”

Gaz smiles, lips curling wider and god, he’s so young.

Young and brilliant, eyes so bright you can feel the phantom feel of the blood seeping through your uniform again.

“Had one. But command pulled the funding and pulled the stuff while we were deployed. Said that it’s not profitable use of resources”, your tone is carefully level, your helmet covering your whole head. Nothing to give you out. Nothing to report.

You are a picture of devour Helldiver.

But Kyle’s eyes still sharpen.

Like he can sense years-old rage and despair under your breast plate.

Like he can see the blood seeping though your uniform.

(It’s impossible, you washed it so much skin on your palms started to peel. You washed it so much you no longer smelled anything other than bleach when you wore it)

“Must’ve costed you a lot of good soldiers”, he muses carefully and something in your chest snaps painfully.

Something important. Something soft.

“Well, you know how it is, sergeant”, you say and there is rage in your chest and years-old blood in the threads of your armour (you will need to wash the bloody thing again until you can’t remember how sticky it was).

Kyle’s eyes are sharp and he’s brilliant and you never wanted to get someone off your fucking ship this quickly.

Your voice strings higher but you push through it, turning away, your words coming out more of a script than human speech.

“We do our due, sergeant. We protect democracy’s dignity”

You don’t add that the same can’t be said about your own.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot. 

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time. 

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit. 

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava. 

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider. 

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast? 

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something. 

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’. 

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you. 

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.” 

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway. 

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?” 

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors. 

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him. 

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle. 

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end. 

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.  

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room. 

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get. 

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you. 

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes  a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same. 

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.” 

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.  

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close. 

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth. 

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants. 

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full. 

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts. 

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?” 

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles. 

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane. 

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats,  nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high. 

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance. 

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention. 

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

[keferon]

Have another

Cause I’m on a roll apparently

———————

Jazz wouldn’t lie when he told Prowl that this was weird to him. His new body was both perfect and terrible. Not that Shockwave and Wheeljack weren’t good at what they do! Just that… it would take some getting used to. The visor, he was nearly 100% certain had been at Prowl’s request though. Something familiar to orient himself with. The rest of him was… Prowl had said it was a ghost of a Polyhexian frame. Some city on Prowl’s home planet.

Well, Polyhexian with doorwings. That had been one of Shockwave’s additions apparently. Jazz… didn’t know how to feel about them quite yet. Walking had been a challenge for a bit as he reacquainted himself with his sense of balance because of them. They were… very sensitive. It made him understand a lot of Prowl’s early interactions with him even more.

“What are you thinking about?”

And apparently, his mech partner (lover?) could read them like they spoke a whole other language.

Jazz lifted his visored gaze away from his hands (servos now, they were called servos). Prowl was watching him, those doorwings of his twitching where they were lifted high behind him. Eager. Cautious. Jazz studied Prowl further, tracing glowing white eyes (optics) over the other’s face. Now that he could properly see Prowl this up-close he could see all the tiny micro-expressions the other gave off. The way his blue eyes (optics you fucker) seemed to cycle and turn while he pondered in something, the way his mouth twitched in a light frown in concern and worry.

Jazz smiled softly. He may not have many positive thoughts on his new body at the moment, but he did have a few. This biggest one being his size. He reached up to cup Prowl’s face with his hands (~servoooos~). He watched as his counterpart melted into the touch, doorwings loosing their tension. Jazz could feel his own spread out a bit behind him, fanning like a halo.

“This body will take some getting used to, but—” Jazz cut himself off as he leaned forward a bit from his spot on Prowl’s desk, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Prowl’s mouth. “I am more than up for the challenge.”

Prowl’s servos lifted up from where he had bracketed Jazz’s hips on the desk, cradling Jazz close. One servo on the junction of his neck and jaw, the other on his waist. Prowl tipped his head to correct the half kiss that Jazz had given him, pressing forward to full on devour the other. Jazz felt something inside of him purr in glee.

Audibly. Might he add.

It caused him to jump a bit, flinching in Prowl’s hold. The Cybertronian laughed against his mouth as he pulled back from the kiss.

“It’s an engine. It revved due to an emotional and physical response from you,” Prowl explained with a soft smile, tipping their foreheads together.

Jazz offered a small smile of embarrassment as he resettled his hands on Prowl’s chest. He did miss the other’s mech form, but he couldn’t deny that his old form from when they first met was prettier.

“You’ll have to teach me. I only know some cause you told me ‘bout them,” Jazz hummed lightly.

Prowl smirked at him, and the little ball of light in his chest (his spark, thank god he had one) flipped. Prowl pressed forward, tipping Jazz onto the desk so he was on his back, doorwings flared out. Jazz swallowed, feeling his engine rev again in response. Prowl’s smirk seemed to grow a bit, that field of emotions that Prowl described to him growing in joy and wistful possessiveness.

“I plan to. After all, you’re finally the perfect size for everything I dreamed of,” Prowl purred at him, a joyful smile creeping across his face at Jazz’s laugh.

“You’re just ‘appy I’m smaller than you by a bit. So you can drag me out of danger,” Jazz snickered as Prowl leaned down to rest their foreheads together again.

“96%. I’m happy you’re alive. That I have the chance to share eons with you. I’m happy I can court you properly. Humans have such finite lives. I was so afraid I had lost you forever,” Prowl whispered, smile going soft and sad as he cradled Jazz close.

Jazz couldn’t help but echo the bittersweet feeling. He will lose his connection with Earth because of this choice Prowl had made. Jazz wasn’t angry, far from it, but he was sad that there would be a part of him grieving his connection with his home. Jazz lifted his head to place a kiss to Prowl’s red chevron.

“I’m here. Don’t plan on going anywhere, Prowler. You’re all I need,” the human turned Cybertronian whispered, pressing out his EM field to give Prowl that reassurance.

Prowl’s own engine rumbled in peace as he leaned over his desk, just holding Jazz close from where he was sprawled across the furniture. It wasn’t perfect. There were things they’d need to discuss, and issues they would need to resolve, hopefully something a few visits to Ratchet and Wheeljack could help fix. It wasn’t perfect, but it was their’s.

And that was enough.

OH MY FUCKING GOD??? Oh THIS IS SO

OFNFJFOGNFJDBDKDMFFKFDFKFJFJDKKFKFJFJFKFMFMFNFNFKRNRNNFNFNFNFKF

Link to the Previous part

[latenightdaydreams]

Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2 🚚, Part 3, Part4, Part5

🚫MASSIVE TRIGGERS FOR DARK THEMES!!!🚫 If this is disturbing for you please turn back now. Your mental health is important and I hope you have an amazing day even if you keep scrolling! ily all! I hope you are all well and please take care of yourselves! You matter 💗

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Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, cum play, non-con somnophilia, non-con, sleeping pills, kidnapping, non-con recording

2.3k word count

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“Fuck!” You shout slamming the hood of your car down. On your way through the countryside on a road trip, your car decided to break down. You’re in a foreign country, the sun is setting, and having no one to help leaves you feeling overwhelmed and defeated. You sit back in your car and begin to cry. In your mind driving solo across Europe was going to be a piece of cake, yet here you are because you tried to save money and got a piece of shit car.

The sound of a semi-truck braking gets your attention as you look into your rear-view mirror to see a blue truck had pulled off and stopped behind you. In a hurry you pull down your visor to check yourself as you wipe tears away and try to relax your face. You close it just in time to see a massive man jump out of the cab of the semi and walk in your direction. A wave of fear rushed over you as you realized you have no items for self-defense on you.

 A knock on the driver’s side window, and the tall trucker steps back and stares at you with piercing blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, you open the car door and step out. His eyes look you up and down.

“Are you stranded?” His voice is smooth with a thick Austrian accent.

“Yes, I am.” Your voice cracks from the nervousness you’re feeling. He is built like a tank and like, really fucking tall.

He gives you a small nod before extending his hand to you, “I’m König.”

“Y/n,” you grab his hand and shake it. His hand is massive and swallows yours.

“You’re not from here, are you?” He gives you a warm smile trying to be nice.

“I’m not…”

“Do you have anyone here you can call?” The question seems innocent enough.

“No, I don’t. My phone has no signal either.”

“Hm,” König looks at your car and then to you once more. “Well, I can’t possibly leave you here alone, especially with it getting dark... where were you heading?”

“I was heading to the German border.”

“Hm, that’s a six-hour drive Maus.”

“It’s okay if you can’t-”

“I can, I’m heading that way. I’ll drive you as close as I can get and help you get set up with a ride in.” He gives you such a genuinely warm smile that you feel your guard beginning to drop.

“I- I really appreciate that, König.” You turn to go to your car and open the back seat to grab two small suitcases out.

“I’ll grab those for you Fräulein.” König walks behind you and gently reaches past you to grab your bags. The sweet vanilla body lotion you’re wearing catches his attention and he tries to take a deep breath as discreetly as he possibly can.

You back away, slightly bumping him. “Oh, sorry. Thank you so much König. You’re like a God send.”

He smiles back at you while holding your bags and closing the car door, “Is this all there is?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You two begin to walk towards the semi-truck as you look around the farm land.

Once to the truck König opens the door for you and helps you climb into the cab, his hand grazing your butt seemed innocent enough so you brush it off. It was most definitely not innocent. He is simply testing your boundaries and seeing how you’d react.

You set you bag down on the floor as König walked around to the driver’s side. He walks to the back of the cab and puts your bags on his small bed back there. He finally sits in the driver seat and looks over at you.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks in a gentle voice.

“Yeah,” you look out at the car that broke down on you feeling slightly sad.

“Don’t worry about that car,” König says, noticing your sad gaze. “I will help you out, I promise. I can’t leave a young woman stranded.” His smile is so warm and genuine, but the look in his eyes shows he has different motives with you.

As he pulled back onto the road König found himself checking you out. His eyes are drawn to the curve of your breast in your tight shirt and the way your thighs look as you sit down in the seat. He was going to have fun with you.

“So, where are you originally from?” He asks, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

You answer and explain how you have always wanted to visit Europe so on impulse you decided to come.

“A bit far from home aren’t you Maus?” He asks with a sly smile on his lips. “Do you even have any friends or contacts in any of these countries?”

“No, I don’t.” You shake your head not realizing these are questions you shouldn’t be answering truthfully.

“That’s a shame, you could get hurt out here. Good thing I came across you and not some… pervert.” He turns his gaze from the road to you and looks at how your breasts bounce with every bump he hits. He couldn’t wait to see what they actually look like, but in his head, he is running through every possibility.

“Yeah…thank you so much for all of your help. Really. I was about to give up and go back home.” You giggle softly.

Your giggle was so genuine and soft. Your lips look tender and kissable. He wanted to see how your lips look wrapped around his cock or sucking on his full nut sack.

“That would have been a shame, it’s good to explore. See the world and expand your horizon.” He says it so casually as if he isn’t thinking of shoving your head down on his dick and making you give him road head. I wonder if she does anal…

You both drive while having small talk. Innocent topics like your hobbies, home life, any little question he can drop to get more information out of you. The sun was now completely set and König noticed your eyes becoming tired as the drive went on.

“If you need to rest, there’s a small bed in the back. It’s not much, but if I can sleep on it, you’ll do just fine.” There’s a friendly chuckle in his tone as his eyes look over at you. Watching as you turn in the seat and look into the dark tiny cab with the bed. His eyes trailing up and down your legs before going back up to your eyes.

“Oh,” you couldn’t explain this feeling in your gut. It was as if it were screaming at you, telling you no and that you should stay awake. You really shouldn’t even be in this truck. Shoving those feelings to the side and excusing them as anxiety, you look back at König.

“Don’t worry, y/n, I don’t bite.” König says with a big smile revealing his sharp K9s. “You’ll be safe with me.”

You nod your head as you begin to stand and walk to the back, it was dark so you used your hands to guide you back there. It was simple since it’s a small space. Taking your bags off the bed and setting them on the floor, you lay down and rest your head on the pillow. Grabbing the thin blue blanket on the bed to cover yourself, you feel so happy to be in a bed, even if its this tiny.

König turns his head slightly to look back at you. It has been ten minutes so he wanted to know if you were asleep or not. 

“You settled in alright back there?” He waits to see if he hears your voice.

“No…” Your voice meek as if you feel bad you can’t fall asleep.

“Would you like a sleeping pill Maus?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes… “My doctor gave them to me to help with the uncomfortable sleeping situation.” He chuckles softly. That was a bold face lie, he got them from his handy dandy street dealer for a moment like this.

You know it isn’t smart to take medication from others, especially prescribed and from a stranger. You hesitate for a moment trying to think of your answer.

“Here,” he opens up a small pill organizer with one hand and holds them out for you to grab. His eyes are straight ahead still on the road.

You slowly get up and grab one, “Thank you.”

“You can take a sip of my water. I promise I have no gross germs.” He laughs, his laughs so warm and welcoming.

You take the sleeping pill and thank him again. Returning to the tiny bed in the back of the cab you try to get as comfortable as you can. You keep your eyes open for a while, looking at the little bits of König and the road you can see from the angle. By the time I wake up we should be close to the German border, and I’ll be able to continue on my way. This is just for a few hours…just…a few…more…

Twenty minutes pass as König continues to drive. There is a truck stop coming up where he can refill and where he’d usually rest. He looks over his shoulder at you again, “You still awake?” He asks rather loudly.

No response.

“Are you asleep?” He asks again at the same loudness, no response. “Perfect.”

König pulls into the truck stop as usual. He pulls up to the gas station and gets out of the semi to refill the tank and make sure all his wheels are in good condition. He buys you a drink and something to eat when you wake up from the concession area inside before you pay. He grabbed himself another water and a snack as well. Casually he got back to the truck and drove it around back to the parking lot where truckers can park and sleep for the night. He took his time setting up the window covers and making sure the doors were locked and safe. Standing in the now total darkness of the cab, he looks in your direction.

“Hey,” he said, lightly shaking your leg to see if you would wake up. You didn’t. Good.

He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and pulls the blanket off of you. His hand caresses the curve of your waist, hip, and ass slowly taking his time to enjoy the way the curves feel. His hand wrapping around your ass and squeezing.

He turns on the light from his phone and illuminates the small cabin. He crouches down beside you and gently pushes your body back so you’re lying on your back now. His hand gently runs under your shirt and caresses the soft skin of your abdomen. His hand reaching up and cupping your breast over your bra. He lets out a soft sigh as he withdraws his hand.

“You’re so beautiful Maus, so beautiful…” He says as he slowly begins to pull your pants down. He opens the photo app on his phone and begins to take photos of your exposed body, only your panties and bra to cover you.

As he continues to shine a light on you, he pulls your bra down and records himself gently shaking your breast and caressing your nipples until they harden. He leans in and begins to suck on each nipple, making sure it’s all on camera. With his free hand he rubs the erection that is growing in his pants.

Pausing the recording he stands and undoes his belt buckle and then his pants, pulling them down to around his ankles. He releases his aching cock, a bead of precum dripping from the pinkish red tip. He picks back up the phone and points the camera back at you as he jerks off over your body.

His loud pants being picked up on the camera as he stops occasionally to rub your pussy through the fabric of your underwear, feeling a wet spot begin to form, or play with your breast before continuing to pump his fist on his cock.

You remain asleep, completely unaware of what was going on as König kneeled into the bed a little and scooped your drool up with the head of his cock, gently rubbing his tip over your soft lips. He spread your drool around the tip of his cock and used it as a lube for himself. He slapped your lips with his cock twice before gently trying to push it inside of your mouth. He moved his hand from around his cock to your jaw to hold it open as he slid himself in. His breathing shakes as he feels the wet heat of your mouth.

He slowly bucks his hips forward into you as he inches his cock in your mouth little by little. “Ja, that’s my good little Hure.” He moans out, his free hand traveling to your breast and squeezing your breast.

“Oh fuck,” König quickly moves his hand back to his cock as he begins to cum. He pulls out slightly so he can cum on your lips and in your mouth. His breathing heavy and he moans your name. Releasing his full balls completely on to you he smiles at his artwork. He slaps his cock on your lips a few more times before scooping it up with his cock and shoveling it into your mouth, making you eat all of his cum.

König stops recording once he is done and puts the phone down on the bed and he picks his pants back up. He would usually have his fun and drop the girl off somewhere safe, but you… you’re so beautiful. Your tits are perfection and he didn’t even get to try that pussy yet. You’re the type of woman that would never even give him the time of day outside of these circumstances. He’s keeping you. You’re his now.

Part2, Part3, Part4, Part5

[nakylvr]

— CRAZY

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary: sophia's first official mission assigned with you doesn't go exactly as planned

warnings/tags: language, violence, kate bishop!sophia, yelena belova!reader, one sided enemies to lovers

part 1

another part hehe lmk if yall want more 😋

"hey, pretty."

sophia closes her eyes and clenches her jaw to keep herself from snapping just at the sound of your voice and presence beside her. after she was informed you would now be accompanying her on every mission she was assigned due to her mentor being forced into early retirement, she was not happy in the slightest. she was used to clint, she had been his apprentice for a while now. she was a sociable person, but she did not like you. scratch that, she hated you.

"hello," she says calmly, opening her eyes and finally looking at you.

sophia forgot everything she was going to say when she looked at you, feeling the air get sucked from her lungs at what you were wearing. compared to seeing you last week when you broke into her apartment and were in casual clothes, seeing you in your suit had her face turning red without realizing. it was essentially the same as black widow's suit, only for it was white and had a lot more holsters with guns and knives alike in them. the night vision goggles were an addition she didn't expect either as they sat on top of your head so you could see her clearly.

"what? cat got your tongue, pretty?" you tease, a smile growing on your face.

"shut up." sophia turns her head toward the warehouse you were standing in front of. "do you need a briefing on what we're doing?"

"nah." you shake your head. "go in and eliminate the bad guys." you put your night vision goggles over your eyes.

"what?" sophia looks at you confused. "no, we're-"

however, she was cut off from her sentence by you grappling to the building and zipping up to the second floor, her jaw hanging open at you just leaving. "oh boy," she mumbles to herself, putting her visors over her eyes. "this is gonna be a long night."

landing in a room on the second floor, you stay low to the ground and look around. you could hear movement and voices downstairs, but you weren't close enough to hear what they were saying.

"where are you?" sophia's voice comes through the earpiece hooked around your ear.

"second floor," you answer quietly, standing up and starting to walk around. "they're all downstairs."

"you're sure?" sophia questions.

"considering i haven't gotten shot yet, yeah. i'm sure," you reply. "where are you?"

"back entrance. i count seven of them."

"how many can you take?" you carefully open the door of the room, stealthily making your way down the hall to the stairwell. you can see all of the men clearly now, and with your night vision goggles you can easily spot where they specifically are. "oh, and are we supposed to kill them?"

"try not to kill them," sophia tells you. "we're supposed to just extract the weapons. there's no need to kill unless it's necessary."

"and what do we deem necessary?" you ask, pulling out one of your knives and readying it in your hand to throw. "because if you didn't notice, they all have guns. three have sub machine guns and four have regular pistols. this isn't going to be a no-kill situation i don't think."

"whatever you're thinking, don't do-"

you don't let sophia finish her sentence, seeing one of the men look at you and starting to raise his gun before you threw your knife right in the center of his chest. immediately the other men noticed due to the scream, and they all started looking around for you.

"god damnit," sophia curses under her breath while securing the arrow on her bow. "fine. shoot to kill."

a smile forms on your face at her words. "don't need to tell me twice." you pull your pistol from your holster, aiming at the head of one of the men. "just give me the okay, pretty."

"you already have it, dumbass. now shoot." sophia rolls her eyes, peering through the window she was next to.

closing your right eye, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right in the center of his head. "bullseye," you snicker. the men turn in your direction, making your eyes widen slightly, but the smile on your face grows. "alright then." you pull another knife out with your free hand.

as soon as one of the men spot you and raises his gun, an arrow comes flying and lands in his chest right where the heart is. he barely managed to get a small scream out before he landed on the ground, making the group start averting their attention to the back entrance.

you slowly start making your way down the stairs, but when you step on a certain one it makes a loud creaking noise and a few of the men turn back to you. "shit," you curse. they quickly raise their guns and start shooting rapidly, making you jump over the rail of the stairs and land on the ground to duck behind the wall. bullets fly through the wood of the wall, and you're stuck until they stop firing, knowing better than to try and shoot back in the midst of countless bullets coming in your direction.

"jesus christ," sophia grumbles under her breath the second you make noise on the stairs. thankfully, it did help her get inside quietly and hide behind one of the crates, peeking around the corner with an arrow aiming at one of the men. without hesitation she lets go, and the arrow flies, hitting him in the head.

once the firing slowed to a stop, you quickly get up from behind the wall and into the open, where you immediately throw your knife and start shooting with your other hand before ducking back behind the wall. reloading your gun, you hear footsteps start approaching you.

"a little help would be nice, y'know," you say quietly, another knife already in your hand.

you don't get a response from sophia, instead you hear the whizzing of an arrow fly by that hits the man walking towards you, the body landing next to you on the ground.

two left. then you'd be out of here. this should be easy.

peeking around the corner, you can see the the remaining two heading towards sophia's direction. you move around the body next to you, sneaking closer to the two who's backs were faced towards you, barely being able to see sophia's bow above the crate ready to shoot. moving quicker, you stand up straight and stab the first man in the neck, holding him against your chest while shooting at the second one.

dropping the body in your arm, it falls to the ground beneath you as you take a few deep breaths. "well, that was easy!" you say, putting your gun back in its holster.

"you almost died, idiot." sophia stands up, taking the arrow out and putting it away in the bag on her back.

"but you saved me." you smile at her. "so it wasn't that–"

you're interrupted by a gunshot ringing past your ears. the next few moments felt like a blur. hearing the shot, turning and raising your pistol, shooting the man, sophia on the ground bleeding out.

"sophia! shit, shit, shit!" you crouch down and pick her up bridal style, looking around frantically before quickly running out of the warehouse.

your first thought is go to HQ, but that's too far. your second option is go to the hospital, but you were explicitly told to not go to any public hospital. your last option was your apartment, which wasn't too far if you ran quick enough. so that's where you started running to.

sophia could barely process what was going on until she opened her eyes and realized she was being carried in your arms while you ran down the streets to your apartment. she could see you talking, but she couldn't hear what you were saying, the blood rushing to her head that felt heavy as she laid limp in your arms. she could make out a few words. 'you're going to be okay' was the most she could see you repeating to either her or yourself for reassurance.

you kept glancing down at the woman in your arms, blood seeping into your white suit as you ran faster. her eyes were open, that was a good sign. that meant you still had some time.

getting to your apartment, after fumbling with the key for a moment you manage to get inside, shutting the door with your foot. you hurry over to your couch, carefully laying sophia down on it before rushing into the bathroom to get your first aid kit and other supplies. getting back to sophia on the couch, you crouch down beside her.

"hey, you're probably gonna hate me for this but if i don't get this out you will bleed out," you say, opening the first aid kit and your small bag of other medical equipment. "but thankfully i know what i'm doing. because of being shot multiple times." you flash a small smile at her. once you had everything laid out on your coffee table next to you, you look back at sophia. "will you let me help you?"

sophia, who's eyes were hardly open at this point, just nods her head to your words, not really hearing them clearly. glancing around, she didn't know where she was. but she didn't really care at this particular moment right now. she didn't even notice you unzipping her jacket and pulling her shirt up so you could see the wound.

"alright. bite this." you put a bunched-up towel near her mouth, and she would question you if she wasn't on the verge of passing out, so she just bites down onto it, anxiously waiting for whatever you were going to do. "i'm really sorry if this hurts."

unfortunately, the bullet didn't go all the way through, which meant you had to struggle with getting it out of her. which then you had to clean the wound and bandage it up. by the time you were done, sophia had already passed out from the pain. but she was still breathing, which was good news.

after changing out of your suit, you walk back into the living room and sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, letting out a long sigh and dragging your hands over your face. "i'm gonna get killed for this," you mumble to yourself.

when sophia wakes up roughly ten minutes later, she looks around in confusion before her eyes land on you sitting on the ground on your phone. she tries to sit upright, but instantly feels a sharp pain and lets out a gasp making her lay back down. your head jerks up at the sound, quickly putting your phone down.

"hey," you say. "you probably shouldn't move a whole lot."

"where am i?" sophia asks, her eyes glancing around at the decor on the walls and the room.

"my place," you answer. "i didn't know where else to go. it was the closest place and i had the equipment to get the bullet out."

sophia's eyes land back on you, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "you got–" she stops herself, shaking her head. "why would you do that?"

"i couldn't exactly have you dying on the first mission i'm assigned with you," you shrug. "i don't want to get fired already."

despite your words, sophia can remember the look on your face when you were running with her in your arms, the words you kept saying to her. why were you acting like it wasn't a big deal now?

she nods her head slightly, looking back up at the ceiling. "thank you," she says. "i would've probably died."

"so you're admitting you needed me?" you reply, a smile growing on your face.

sophia rolls her eyes at your words, seeing your smile out of the corner of her sight. "whatever."

"it's okay, i know," you chuckle, standing up. "you should probably stay the night, you can't really get far right now," you tell her while walking around the coffee table to stand in front of her.

"are you serious?" she looks at you like you're crazy. "i think i'm fine." she shakes her head and tries to sit up again to feel the intense pain return, groaning quietly and slowly going back down on her back.

you watch her and let out a quiet sigh. "well?" you say, hands on your hips. "do you want me to get you to an actual comfortable bed or do you wanna stay on this shitty couch?"

sophia doesn't look at you, still staring at the ceiling as she bites her tongue to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't. "fine," she grumbles softly.

"that's what i thought." you lean down, carefully picking her up off the couch, her arms wrapping around your neck as you held her.

walking to your bedroom, you already had the covers pulled back on one side. you set her down on the bed, then taking a step back and standing there awkwardly. "uh, just holler for me if you need anything. i'll be on the couch," you tell her, turning around and starting to walk away.

you're stopped when sophia grabs your wrist, having you turn back around to look at her.

"you can sleep here too, it's your house," she says.

"i mean, i could, but you should–"

"just get in the fucking bed, yn." she cuts you off, looking at you with a look you hadn't seen on her before. her eyes not staring at you with the normal seriousness they always had, her expression not looking like she wanted to punch you in the face. not to mention her saying you're actually name for the first time, but you tried to push past that.

"okay." you reluctantly agree. walking to the other side of the bed, you climb in and keep a reasonable distance between you and sophia, your arms resting at your sides awkwardly.

"what the hell are you, a virgin? jesus christ," sophia sighs irritably, grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. she slowly rolls over onto her side to look at you now that you're closer to her. "thank you for helping me," she says quietly.

your body tenses up when she pulls you closer to her, moving along with it and glancing over at her when she speaks. "it's no problem." you shake your head. "i couldn't have you dying on me."

sophia nods. "right, because you would get fired. not because you were freaking out repeating i was gonna be okay or anything."

your face flushes at her words, not realizing that she had seen you panicking while running back to the apartment. "well, when you put it that way i sound like a idiot," you mumble.

"you are," she replies. "but, you saved me, and i appreciate that."

"of course." you nod. "don't worry about it. let's say we're even now?"

"mm," sophia hums, pretending to think about it for a moment. "yeah, i think we're even," she says, moving closer to you and draping her arm over you, situating her head between your neck and shoulder. "if you let me stay like this, then i'll forget about you trying to kill me."

your breath catches in your throat at her actions, a shiver going down your spine as she whispers against your skin, tickling you slightly. looking down at her, her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful, content. it had been a while since you'd been in this position, even if it was under good circumstances, causing your heart to beat faster trying to keep yourself together.

"you can stay like this for as long as you want," you respond. "i don't mind."

all that comes from sophia is a short hum and nothing else, and when you look down again, she's asleep. a small smile forms on your face at the sight, and you move a little bit so she could be more comfortable, resting your arm under your head while looking up at the ceiling. the blades spin slowly, and you find yourself finally feeling tired for once in a while. closing your eyes, you let out a short breath, allowing yourself to fall asleep now that everything was calm and quiet.

[edenesth]

[7:03 AM]

"Oh my freaking god! If you don't know how to drive, go back to driving school!" you shouted, resisting the urge to flip off the car in front of you. "Seriously, how did these people even get their driver's licenses?!"

Seonghwa bit his lip, glancing over at you with hearts in his eyes. He admired your heeled foot pressing aggressively on the accelerator as you overtook the slow driver hogging the fast lane. His eyes travelled up to your work outfit—a well-fitted black velvet dress with a mid-thigh slit, a floral-patterned scrunchie on your wrist, and a pair of geeky rose gold-rimmed glasses on your face.

God, if only she knew how hot she looked.

The thing was, you were usually the sweetest angel known to man. Everyone at your workplace called you 'sunshine,' and you truly were the nicest person to exist, a quality that had drawn him to you. To him, this made you wifey material, and he couldn't imagine loving anyone else if you weren't the one he eventually married.

But there was one time when you were most unlike your usual self: whenever you were on the road, behind the wheel. When you drove, you turned into a complete demon.

He remembered witnessing this side of you for the first time. It was just a few weeks into your relationship when he needed a ride. His initial shock quickly turned into admiration as he savoured the meanest resting bitch face he'd ever seen on you. He had no idea his sweet, perfect angel could harbour such rage.

That same expression was on your face now, and he would never tire of seeing it. However, there was one problem: he was getting a little too excited from seeing you like this. This was not the right time for such feelings. He was on his way to work, for goodness' sake. The last thing he needed was for his coworkers to notice how 'affected' he was by his girlfriend first thing in the morning.

To avoid letting his excitement escalate, he quickly took out his phone and started playing around with it, eventually settling on taking selfies using the mirror on the visor to distract himself.

"Man, I look good today," he smirked.

"Oh yeah? We'll see how good you look when you have to walk yourself to work tomorrow. This will be the last time I'm dropping you off, Park. That goddamn car of yours better be all serviced and ready by the end of the day."

His grin vanished at your words. "But babe, we're having such a good time. Don't you like spending a few extra minutes with me, hm? Besides, the guys at the workshop said it could take a few days if the spare parts don't arrive on time—" he was cut off by the deadly glare you shot him.

"If you think being stuck in an unnecessary jam and being late to my own job because of you is a good time, you need to reevaluate your priorities," you said coolly, eyes on the road as you overtook all the drivers from hell and sped toward his office building, which was thankfully not too far from yours.

"Yes, ma'am."

Seonghwa wasn’t sure how to feel hearing those words, but he supposed he finally understood what it meant to be both scared and turned on at the same time because damn, that was hot.

Before he could dwell on those feelings for too long, the car slowed to a stop, and he realised you had arrived at his workplace. After shifting the gear to park, you turned to face him, your usual warm smile greeting him once again—the smile he adored, the one that had stolen his heart, the one that made him realise you were the one.

"We're here, Hwa! You know I don't mean any of those words, right? I'll drive you whenever you need me to. Now go before you're late."

Just like that, his angel was back.

His heart melted all over again as he leaned in to press his lips firmly against your invitingly pink ones, not caring if he ruined your gloss. That was what you deserved after all the things you had just said to him. Call it his little payback if you will. To his delight, your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him back, just like the sweet angel you always were, giving in to him without fail.

Pulling back slowly, you sighed, "Go. I'll see you after work. Love you."

He bit his lip, feeling your thumb swiftly wipe your gloss off his lips. "I love you too, babe. God, you drive me crazy."

And he meant it.

You giggled, pushing him away by the chest. "You do the same to me, Park Seonghwa."

As he got out of the car, his heart pounded in his chest, still reeling from the emotional whiplash you had given him. Feeling hot from the experience, he loosened his tie to cool off before entering his office. Oh yes, he couldn't wait to be picked up by you this evening. Unlike now, he would be able to show you just how crazy you made him once you got home tonight.

Just you wait, you little devil.

ATEEZ Masterlist

I... this is self-indulgent as fck, that's all I'll say HAHA this was the only thing on my mind as I was driving home from work today. I'm usually sweet as an angel (it's what most people say about me) but good lord, I'm unrecognisable whenever I'm on the road.

Sacrificed my workout time to write this because priorities LMFAO

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this random timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

[chaussetteblanche]

I know it;s barely been posted yesterday, but I definitely need more Jason x biker!reader.

Wonder how it will go on :D

A/N : thanks for the request babes !! and thanks for you patience, this was a while ago !

Jason todd is a doberman boyfriend

he definitely loves going on rides with you

he thinks it's the peak of romance

he might slap your ass if he gets the chance

if you guys have your bluetooth connected, he's constantly telling you how good you look on your bike

"holy shit, your ass looks great from back here,"

"damn, you looked really good while passing that car, babe,"

"you know what you'd look even better riding?"

he'd drive in front of you if having him behind you made you nervous, but he would prefer to be behind, as to be able to have more control on any situation which might arise

he's a doberman boyfriend

and a mirror smashing king

when you're riding, he usually prefers to stay behind you so he can keep an eye on you

if you've seen those tiktoks of people defending their friends on bikes by chasing after cars, smashing mirrors or that kind of shit > 100% Jason

he might chase after a car if it cut you off, tried to merge into you, drove too close to you,... basically if it did anything to disrespect you or put you in unnecessary danger

sometimes that pisses you off though, you're a strong person and you can handle your shit, but he likes to handle it for you

let's say a car tries to merge into your lane and barely misses you because you swerve

and on top of being scared for your life, you're angry, so you start gesticulating around, telling the guy (because of course it's man) to roll down his window so you can yell at him

and he does, but only to flip you off

you decide it's not worth it and speed up to not have to deal with him anymore, telling Jason through your helmets

but Jason has other things in mind

bad, violent, illegal things

picture this huge pile of muscle of a man on an equally huge and scary bike slowly pull up next to you on the highway, murder on his mind

let's be real, the guy is most likely still going to therapy because of this encounter

but Jason sees red, this man put you in danger, and if you hadn't reacted and gotten out of the way- Jason doesn't want to think about that

and on top of that, he'd disrespected you

Jason can't let that slide, so he pulls up next to the car, glowers at the driver through his mirrored visor before tearing his side mirror off and smashing it into the car's window

the driver panics, starts screaming at Jason that he's totally crazy and that he's going to call the cops

Jason grins because both of you have your plates tucked, shaking his head

he finally catches up with you, tapping your ass lovingly as he passes by you

you didn't see what Jason did because you were busy filtering through trafic and trying to calm down

"did you see that guy?" you ask hotly, ranting about how dangerous it all was

"he's taken care of, sweets, don't worry your pretty head about it,"

"oh god, Jason, what did you do?"

he just smiles, feeling good about keeping you safe on and off the road

with him, you get scary dog privileges wherever you go, big doberman bf vibes

just imagine you, happily walking around shopping or whatever and this 6 foot something mountain behind you, glaring at everybody who dares to breathe in your direction

he definitely carries everything, especially your helmet if you guys go and have went somewhere together on your bikes, he’s got huge hands and has this special way of carrying both your helmets in one hand (it's so he can hold your hand with the other)

loves having you as a backpack

loves being your backpack too, although he’s definitely handsy, but only when you’re stopped though !!! he would never put you in any sort of danger !!!

but yeah, if you have boobs, he might grab them at a red light (if you don't, no worries, he'll find something else to grab)

he will come pick you up anywhere, anytime, just say the word and he is there (in record time too)(google maps hates him)

will carry your helmet around his arm for literal miles, even though it’s really heavy and uncomfortable, just so you can backpack

helmet kisses, all the time

he definitely goofs around at long red lights and will come up and hump your bike out of nowhere

of course, everybody is looking and you’re just 😑

if you ride a bike but know nothing about bikes (me) he will be your mechanician, garage guy, therapist and more

bike won't start ? call Jason

bike making weird noises ? show Jason

bike needs any kind of service of fixing ? Jason is already there, doing it for you

this is all I have for now, but feel free to request more stuff :)

[tojisun]

im giggling thinkin about biker!simon finding out you haven’t ever ridden a bike before and so the first thing he does is tell you to stay put before hopping on his harley and driving away.

you stand there, blinking, still reeling over what happened. you’re quite confused if your date really just left you, before giving up on worrying as you hold onto the hopes that he’d come back. he did say he will but how many of your dates and ex-partners fooled you because, apparently, you’re too “gullible” and it’s just too ���funny”?

too fucking many times, that’s what.

you amble towards an empty bench while you wait, fluffing up your skirt and dusting your sweater before fixing your hair. you itch to message your friends, anxious thoughts buzzing underneath your veins, but simon had always been such a gentleman with you. always so caring and pampering. always so honest with his affections. he isn’t like anyone you’ve ever been and so you want to trust him.

and you do. god, you do. because you trust him with your safety. with your heart.

time crawls by but the agonizing drag does end. you didn’t have to wait long, you realize with a giddy heart, as you see simon driving back. his head whips around the park, trying to find you, and you giggle as you stand up, waving your hand above your head to catch his attention.

his helmeted head snaps towards your direction and you smile as the purr of his engine becomes louder, his bike devouring the space between the two of you eagerly.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says as he snaps his visor up, his beautiful eyes crinkled as he smiles at you.

the butterflies in your stomach roar, and you almost choke on the intensity of your happiness as you whisper back, “hey there, big guy.”

simon preens like he loves the nickname and you sear his reaction to your memory, already anticipating the next opportunity where you get to call him that again.

“i‘ve got somethin’ for you,” simon announces before twisting towards the other side of his harley, reaching for something that you couldn’t see. you tilt your head, trying to act cool as you wait.

simon turns back to you with a shy smile tickling his lips, and your eyes instantly flicks towards his hands where he cradled a cute little purple helmet – one of the many things you didn’t expect him to return with.

“is that a bicycle helmet?” you blurt out.

“yeah,” he laughs, a pretty sound. “this is all they have.”

“‘they’?” you finally move close to him as you ask this, taking tentative steps on the gravel.

“the closest bike rental,” simon replies, sounding embarrassed. “you said y’ve never been on a bike and, well, this is a safe environment so i thought, ‘why not?’”

you breathe in sharply, his words curling along the crevices of your heart. “lemme get this straight,” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “you heard me say i’ve never been on a bike before so your first reaction was to drive away to find a closest bike rental so you can get me a helmet because you want to give me a safe bike ride?”

“…yeah,” he whispers, hesitant. “i mean, if you don’t want to then that’s oka- are you crying?”

“shut up,” you whimper, hiding your face behind your palms.

you hear him curse, the engine of his bike shutting off, before hearing the way his feet drop on the gravel and march towards you. in a heartbeat, you are pulled in his embrace, with your face pressed on his chest, and you eagerly breathe in the scent of leather and ozone that is stuck on him. he pats your head softly, his palm dragging along your hair as he continues to comfort you.

you sniffle, unable to stop the tears because what the actual fuck.

you have never felt so loved. so adored. so revered.

you chew on your confession, your heart and mind syncing up for once. simon, i-

(later, when you’ve finally calmed down, you will let out a wet giggle and apologize for dampening the mood. simon will just smile at your adorable, tear-swollen face and tell you that you have nothing to apologize for. then, he’ll kiss your forehead before securing your helmet on your head. he’ll tighten the strap around your chin, gently knock on the shell, then pull you onto his bike. you two will spend the rest of the afternoon just making slow and gentle donuts around the park, laughing and chatting.

and then, gritting through the choking staccato of your heartbeat, you will tell simon that you want more than a flurry of dates. that you want something more official. then, you will tell him you love him and simon will buckle before you because,

“me too, sweet girl. i’m so in love with you too.”)

-

(ext.01) (ext.02) (ext.03)

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Next

Taglist part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @Cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[luvvyouforever]

okay i love x-men 97 so much, so glad someone writes for that. Can I request scott summers x reader nsfw headcanons and how he wold be with his partner 18+ wise

you absolutely can <3

nsfw headcanons : scott summers (cyclops) x reader

content: nsfw content mdni 18+, mentions of dominance, lingerie, shower sex, domestic life, oral, etc

^^ he was so crazy in this gif. no, but have you met my wife? #needthat

𝜗𝜚 scott is such a passionate lover. he likes devoting all of his time and energy to you. when you're with the team in a fight, his focus has to be on everyone, but the minute you're alone with him in the bedroom, it might as well just be the two of you alone in the whole wide universe.

𝜗𝜚 i think he naturally takes control in the bedroom, but isn't a dom in the traditional sense. it's more about him guiding the night along and making decisions about what to do next. he'll gently manhandle you into new positions and flip you around depending on what he wants to do next. is always open to input from you, however. if you're begging to be ate out, who is he to deny you?

𝜗𝜚 he's also intuitive, seemingly knowing what you're asking of him before you can even put it into words. he can gauge how you're feeling that day and will, in seconds, prepare to cater the rest of the day to your needs. bad day? he knows that he needs to let you be a pillow princess. angry and frustrated? he lets you guide him where you want him and feeds into your urgent energy.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, everybody is frustrating him and nobody is listening cough cough logan and he needs to be more dominant. in these moods, he's firm with you and likes making you slowly fall apart through the night. he loves getting you to the point where you're so sweet and compliant.

𝜗𝜚 the best way to make scott melt in these situations? look up at him with needy eyes, bite your lip, then breath out a soft "yes, sir." sometimes he just really needs it.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, though, he's had that kind of tiring day and this is when there's little to dynamic between the two of you. it's soft, loving missionary or he's leaned against the comfortable bed with you riding him.

𝜗𝜚 since he can't fully see what you look like without the bright red visor on, he likes when things you're wearing have some kind of soft texture to them which applies to lingerie. wear something soft and silky which he can run his hands on and he'll fold.

𝜗𝜚 loooooves shower sex. you'll coax him into the steamy enclosed space and brush your body against him and suddenly your back is pushed against the wall, the warm water is enveloping the two of you, and he's pounding into you, strong arms supporting your weight.

𝜗𝜚 one of his biggest turn-ons is seeing you all domestically. he's already needy waking up to you in your shared bed, and then you cook breakfast together and you have this cute apron wrapped around you, and then you're smiling at him while you wash the dishes while he dries them, and then you're being dragged back to the bedroom giggly. god forbid you get pregnant.

𝜗𝜚 praise kink! please tell him that he's doing a great job. he doesn't receive nearly enough recognition for what he does for the x-men and he'll blush when you praise him for normal things throughout the day. whisper just how good he's making you feel as he fucks you and his thrusts will get erratic or rushed.

some more random, short headcanons:

𝜗𝜚 boob man. wear a low cut dress when he takes you on a date.

𝜗𝜚 loves feeling your hands run along his abs. especially if you have long nails.

𝜗𝜚 also loves feeling your hands tangle themselves into his hair.

𝜗𝜚 is sooo romantic w it. will absolutely put rose petals on the bed when it's your anniversary.

𝜗𝜚 loves oral, giving it but especially receiving it. he's such a sucker for feeling your lips wrapped around him.

𝜗𝜚 probably sometimes too scared to make your sex a little more kinky. will run it by you a hundred times before trying something.

𝜗𝜚 when he's indulged in a little alcohol, his inhibitions are gone. very very very rare moments but very very very fun.

𝜗𝜚 he gets sooo flustered when you send him pictures while he's gone, and he'll never ask for them, but you can tell when he gets home just how much he loved getting them.

𝜗𝜚 is so incredibly sweet during aftercare. will dote on you and ask if everything felt good and offer you water and run you a bath, anything you want.

𝜗𝜚 doesn't know how hot he is when he's leading the x-men. like imagine the scene in the first ep of x-men 97 when he lands on the ground with his power and says "to me, my x-men," and you are all over him when you get home but he doesn't get why. he's just doing what he should as a leader.

shoo, i need a scott summers.

[girl-lostconnection]

Little angst to sprinkle, but Helldiver!Reader who are tired.

God, you are so fucking tired. None of this matters, none of this makes any fucking sense at this point.

You climbed the ranks and you did your due and you paid in blood and flesh and chips of your own sanity. You gave and you gave and you gave.

You trained new cadets, explaining the terminals and heavy nests and fortresses. You have been everywhere command allows space jumps to.

Your ship a big menacing thing, a blade forever suspended in the vast cosmic nothing. Weightless and creaking whenever you have to engage orbital thrusters, chief engineer muttering something under their breath. You never ask what. Engineers can have their superstitions.

You can’t afford to have any.

You can’t afford much at all nowadays, prices biting harder than they ever did, missions deadlier.

You have less and less divers with each year — numbers of your branch diminishing quickly. Frankly, you don’t blame them.

Average age of Helldivers is 18 to 22 years old.

Average survival time out in the field — less than half a minute.

Even with all the propaganda and enlistment perks command simply cannot supply new meat to the frontlines. There is simply no more new meat.

Conditions get worse for rookies, their chances of survival dropping through the crust of the earth. At least when you were starting out you still had a med bay.

At least you managed to scramble some manuals for proper ammunition assembling.

You drag yourself onto the ship, steps heavy and tired — there are black spots in your vision, your head is swimming and you are pretty sure you no longer have anything in your stomach.

Bloody stims devour any available energy source to power your body through the life-threatening injuries.

No wonder you are still limping. Your mind doesn’t understand why the leg that got torn off is in place again.

You don’t really notice Price chatting up your chief administrator when you drag yourself in — bloody and tired, limbs so heavy it’s a miracle you are still standing.

But you can’t call it a day, there are three more missions. Then you can rest.

There are black spots swimming in your vision, you are lightheaded and nauseous, stomach aching — it clenches around nothing, trying to dissolve the food that isn’t there anymore.

You whip out the stim you didn’t dispose after the last mission, needle sliding in your thigh with practiced ease. Your body filling with energy, your vision brighter.

You can finally fucking think again.

There is a heavy silence you don’t notice immediately, too high on the endorphins stims bring. Pain free for the next two minutes or so.

“Captain?”, Price is hovering just behind your shoulder, your fingers twitching around the base of your secondary weapon — you are jumpy straight out of the mission. Automatons start looking like people after too long.

Down on Chort-Bay is hell likes of which you haven’t seen before.

You are not looking forward to jumping down there again. But duty calls, right? No one else would do that. No one is on the orbit right now but you.

“Captain”, you hum, eyes flickering to him for a moment. You have to wipe the visor of your helmet to properly see him — one of the diver’s got blown up on a landmine, his blood is still on your armour.

You don’t have time to wash it off. Not if you want to finish mission before you will need to be up for the next order.

“I noticed…the syringe.”, Price starts after prolonged silence, brows furrowing as he watches you. Eyes the softest blue you ever saw. The summer sky.

You remember the one you saw back at home. The time before helldiving now feels like a feeble attempt of your imagination to cushion the fall from the height of your exhaustion. The time before helldiving feels nowadays like a fairytale.

“Didn’t know you were sick”, he continues and you chuckle, typing in your coordinates. It’s cute that he worries about your health, though understandable. You are still alive and therefore a valuable asset to the command.

“Not sick. Just fucking tired out of my mind. We get a shit ton of stims with every resupply. Probably the only thing we get for free”, your laugh is a dry static-y thing, distorted from helmet, coming out of dynamics in your helmet feeling wrong and twisted.

But Price looks at you now like you have three heads and you try to explain. Perhaps SAS don’t get any of these. Though not like they need the thing, they got actual medics ready to stitch them up as needed.

They got off days and luxuries you cannot afford.

God, you might consider marrying on one of these days. Purely for tax benefits.

“Stims are used to patch us up on the go. Don’t have a whole lotta time to waste. We use them sometimes as energisers as well. A tired soldier is a sloppy soldier and a sloppy soldier is a dead one”, you say, brain fog finally lifting, god, this is good.

“Wouldn’t that constitute addiction with how often soldiers use it?”, John is a heavy stare and deep frown in the line of his mouth, his eyes the prettiest summer sky. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

You shrug, checking your gear before getting yourself in the pod and locking your ankles in place.

“Command told us they had scientists test drive the things and they aren’t addictive. Honestly I don’t know much, Captain. You might wanna ask someone with actual degree about the stuff”

You salute him for the road and then the pod slides you down, all ready to go.

Down there hell awaits. Down there torn off limb is the least that could happen.

Down there you could use any help you can get.

Price watches you getting launched down the orbit and turns away, tension coiling in his shoulders.

Price whisks away one of the stim vials, hiding the thing in the pocket and walking away. He will need to have someone check the bloody thing.

There is no way godsend ambrosia that cures torn off limbs and massive bleeding is not addictive.

John remembers the way your whole body buzzed with energy from the moment you pushed it in. Like there was no more pain, no more exhaustion, no more fear.

Like you were high.

And that’s for sure that sloppy soldier is a dead one. But so is the drugged out one. So is you, if his suspension is right.

[callsign-mayhem]

take my breath away (b.b)

Part two of the sequel series for Heartbreak Feels So Good!

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 1.7k CW: Heavy makeout sesh, use of Y/N

FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE!

Bradley struggles to keep his feelings in check during a morning training session. A stolen moment in the hangar leads to an intense confession—and an unexpected interruption from another member of The Dagger Squad.

The early morning light cut through the hangar, an energetic hum building as the base slowly came to life. The air was warm, and the scent of metal, jet fuel, and saltwater hung in the breeze. Pilots chattered animatedly while their jets were prepped and fuelled for the new training course being undertaken that day.

Bradley stood by his jet—his pride and joy—watching you move across the tarmac, adjusting your helmet with sharp focus. Of course, you were suited up in your flight gear, looking every bit the professional.

A force to be reckoned with. 

You could’ve been wearing a bin bag and he’d have found it endearing, but this was his favourite look on you. It was hard not to stare, but he caught himself before anyone noticed—your relationship still wasn’t out to the rest of The Dagger Squad. 

You moved almost effortlessly—graceful but with an edge that demanded attention. 

Bradley wasn’t sure why it was hitting him harder this morning, but seeing you there—standing tall, the sun catching the contours of your face through the visor of your helmet—he realised just how hard he’d fallen for you. It wasn’t just your skill in the cockpit or the way you carried yourself. It was more than that. It was how you made it seem as if nothing could shake you, even though he knew it was sometimes an act. 

What with your traumatic breakup and newfound love with Bradley, you’d been doing so well lately. He’d been patient, expecting things to be complicated. While there’d been a few bumps—as every new relationship had—it had been much smoother than he’d expected. Loving you was easy, and being loved by you was even easier. It was like standing in the sun and feeling the warmth from every angle. Your adoration made Bradley feel like he could take on the world. 

Hondo appeared before him, his usual lazy grin on his face.

‘Earth to Rooster.’ He teased. ‘You good, man?’ 

Bradley smiled easily. Since the Uranium mission, he’d gotten very close with Hondo. 

‘I’m good. Who’s flying first?’

In response, Hondo moved to the side so Bradley could see you climbing into the cockpit of your jet. 

God, that flight suit.

The world around you became a blur as the jet roared to life. Bradley swallowed hard, trying to focus on his own pre-flight checks which were happening around him. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you fly, but today something was different. The admiration he had for you was more prominent than before. So much so it hurt his chest. 

You were incredible, gorgeous, and talented, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

And the suit. Well, it clung to you in all the right places.

Your jet roared to life, engines screaming. It was almost too much. Even as the training began, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He was in the air not long after you. The flight was intense—tight manoeuvres, precision testing, pushing the boundaries—another day at the office. But all through it, Bradley couldn’t help but steal glances at your aircraft. He was entranced by the sound of your voice over the comms. You were a natural, graceful and fierce all at once, and it made something inside of him tighten. 

Once the training session eventually wrapped up, the jets landed in quick succession. Engines winded down, and Bradley took a moment to breathe, watching as you climbed out of your plane. It was hot as Hades, and he was severely dehydrated. As he climbed out of his own cockpit, he thought about taking himself off to get a drink, but then you met his eyes amidst the small crowd, and everything seemed to slow down. 

Bradley didn’t wait for the crowd to clear. He moved fast, cutting across the runway and heading straight for you. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached you like it was the first time he’d ever been this close. Before he could even process his actions, he had a hand on your arm, gently pulling you towards one of the empty hangars, away from prying eyes. 

‘Y/N.’ He breathed, voice low but full of urgency. ‘I need to talk to you.’

You blinked up at him, caught off guard but not unwilling. There was something between the two of you waiting to be broken open. 

Bradley stepped into the shadows of the hangar, and you followed. 

The only thing he could focus on was closing the distance.

Bradley didn’t give you much chance to speak before pulling you towards him, his lips crashing onto yours. This kiss was sudden, fiery, a release of everything he’d been holding back. It was messy and urgent at first, but it deepened as he held you tighter. Gently, he threaded one hand through your hair while the other rested on your back, pulling you into him.

For a moment, you were both lost in its intensity. Bradley’s thoughts were a swirling blur, centring on how much he wanted you, how much he could feel this thing building between you two, and how good it felt to act on it now that Elijah was gone. 

He pulled away just enough for the two of you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough as he struggled to say the words: ‘You’re incredible, Y/N. Do you know that?’

You smiled. ‘I think I do now.’ You breathed, voice soft but full of warmth.

Bradley’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then, with a little smirk, he kissed you again—slower this time, more controlled. Although it still carried that same intensity. His hand came to rest on your hip, pulling you close enough that the space between you no longer existed.

Nothing existed outside of this moment. 

The sounds of your heartbeats and the urgent kissing were drowned out by the hum of engines on the runway. That sound, this place, and you. It was an equation that could only equal home to Bradley. 

When you eventually pulled away again, Bradley’s swollen lips curved into a smile. ‘You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.’

You looked up at him. ‘Me too.’

‘I don’t wanna go back out there.’ He admitted.

You giggled almost deliriously and jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You’d never gone this far before. Bradley couldn’t believe how great it felt to have you in his arms, legs tightening around him. He wanted to feel you tightening around him in other ways, but this wasn’t the time or place. 

You kissed him again, tongue dipping into his mouth. He wanted to taste you everywhere. The thought of it alone had him groaning into your mouth. 

He was so wrapped up in you that when you suddenly jumped down and stepped away from him, his eyes remained closed for a beat or two. It happened so fast.

When he did open his eyes, he wished he hadn’t.

‘Well, well, well.’ Fanboy smirked. ‘What do we have here?’ 

You and Bradley immediately stiffened. The playing teasing in his voice was unmistakable, but so was the surprise. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. 

‘Didn’t think anyone would catch you two in the act, huh?’ He laughed, brow raised.

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing. ‘Fanboy,’ he croaked, voice still hoarse from the burning intensity of that makeout session. ‘We don’t want this getting out yet.’

Bradley shot you a look to make sure you were okay. He was shocked to see an amused grin on your pretty face. 

Fanboy couldn’t help himself. His grin widened as he took a step back. ‘I knew there was something between you two,’ he said dramatically. ‘The way you look at each other—it’s like a romance movie, but it sucks ‘cause I never get any popcorn.’ 

You laughed, the sound echoing through the hangar and Bradley’s whole body. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to do a lot more than kiss you. 

‘You’re not gonna say anything, are you?’ You asked.

Fanboy placed his hand over his heart. ‘Say anything? How could I not? This is big news!’ He teased, voice rising an octave or two in excitement. ‘You two are so cute together. Y/N, I was waiting for you to figure out that Rooster has been head over heels in love with you for months.’ 

Bradley shot Fanboy a warning look. ‘Mickey.’

Fanboy held his hands up. ‘I’m just kidding. But not really.’ You raised a brow, and Fanboy started back peddling. ‘Kidding about telling everyone. Not about the other thing.’

He winked, and Bradley didn’t have the heart to be upset with him when you laughed again. Fanboy tilted his head, studying the two of you as if trying to gauge the seriousness of the relationship. 

‘You two are good for each other,’ he said, his tone softer now but still teasing. ‘You know that, right? Like, I was waiting for the ‘big confession’ or whatever, but honestly? This whole vibe? It’s perfect. I just wanna see you two kiss again.’

Bradley snorted with laughter, quickly trying to cover it up with a cough. You bit your lip to hold back a laugh as well, but it was impossible. 

‘Alright, you’ve had your fun.’ Bradley said, shaking his head with a grin. ‘But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear—’

‘I won’t, I promise. I’m not that cruel.’ Fanboy was holding his hands up in mock surrender. ‘But seriously, if you guys need help making this official, I have the perfect playlist…’ 

You and Bradley shared a quick, amused glance, and the world felt lighter for a moment. This was how it was going to be. 

‘Thanks, Fanboy,’ you said. ‘But I think we’ve got it covered.’ 

‘One more thing.’ He grinned. ‘Next time you’re gonna make out, put a tie on the door or something.’

And with that, he winked at you, heading back onto the runway. You took a deep breath, glancing at Bradley, who was trying to suppress a smile. ‘Well,’ you said, leaning closer to him. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

Bradley shrugged with a grin, his eyes sparkling. ‘Maybe we should keep the making out to a minimum at work? Or at least find a more private place?’

‘I think you're probably right. How does my place, after work sound?'

Thanks for reading the next part of the sequel series for heartbreak feels so good! It was just something small to start the year off, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Taglist:

@crowdedimagines @sadgirlgiselle @sleepy-writersblock @lovelyygirl8 @my-therapist-hates-me @primroseluna @eloquentdreamer @sgt-barnesveins @daybleedsintonightfa11 @constructivejudger @honey-and-bi