#steve rovers

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

in relation to this post, could we get some super nasty breeding kink sex when he comes home from a mission? i imagine him just feral and needing you so bad all rough and the nastiest words coming from him

Conception*

a/n: there’s no link or anything but I’m assuming you’re talking about the steve edit i posted LOLLLL

summary: Steve comes home from a high risk mission and decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer

warnings: smut, lil bit of angst, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie ofc, needy Steve, aftercare

word count: 2.6k

~

YN hums softly along to Video Games by Lana Del Ray, a look of concentration adorning her face as she puts the finishing touches on the dinner she’s prepared. She’s expecting Steve home sometime tomorrow morning so she fills a tupperware container full of half the delicious meal she made.

Her stomach grumbles in hunger as soon as she gets a whiff of the potatoes, steamed vegetables, and steak bites, her mouth practically watering in anticipation. Once she’s plated the other half for herself, she makes her way to the couch and sits down to enjoy.

A small smile forms on her face and she does a little happy dance as she quickly turns on her favorite show and digs in. She manages to finish almost the whole plate and sits it on the coffee table in front of her, pulling her legs up onto the couch to relax as she finishes up another episode.

When it’s over she finally forces herself up off the couch and to the kitchen to clean up the dishes she’s messed up, turning on some more music to keep her focused. Just as she’s finishing up, she hears the sound of her front door being opened and ultimately slammed shut. She apprehensively makes her way to the entrance of the kitchen and peeks her head out, relieved to see Steve standing in the living room, still in his uniform.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she chuckles, stepping into the room with him. Only then does she realize he’s literally panting as if he’d ran here from his mission, and she frowns as she begins to ask him what’s wrong.

Before she can even blink he’s got her pinned against their living room wall, his lips on hers. It takes her a moment but then she’s kissing him back with the same amount of aggression he gave her, and then he’s lifting her up until their hips are touching, immediately grinding against her.

The material of his suit is causing great friction, the fact that she’s wearing nothing but a pair of flimsy panties helping as well. They’re moaning into each other’s mouths, as they grind against one another, desperate to get off as quickly as possible.

They’re both lost in the bliss of their bodies on one another until Steve pulls away abruptly. “No,” he shakes his head. “Can’t take you right here, it’s not right. Have to go to the bed,” he says, but it’s more to himself than her, and she’s obliging and turning to leave. Until he grabs her arm and pulls her back to him, hoisting her up to his waist and pressing his lips to hers again. His hands move down to grip her ass cheeks as he begins the trek to their room, and he somehow manages to successfully tear the panties off of her with one hand, letting them fall to the floor as he walks.

As they finally make their way into the neat bedroom, he tosses YN onto the bed and she sees the literally feral look in his eyes, not concerned but curious as to what’s got him this way. Before she can ask him, he’s on her again, his hand reaching forward to palm her breasts, but she needs to make sure his head is in the right place before they move forward.

He’s a bit shocked when she rejects him, making him snap out of whatever daze he’d been in. “Steve. What’s going on with you?” she questions, a look of confusion on her face as she tries to think of what’s made him this way.

He looks at her for a beat as he reads her face, trying to figure out what the best way is to say this. A quick battle in his mind leads to him just coming right out and saying it. “I wanna have a baby,” he blurts, and YN’s eyes widen a fraction before going back to normal. For a moment it’s just silence, and he’s worried he’s done something wrong.

“Are you…sure about this?” she questions, choosing her words wisely. “I thought you weren’t ready,” she finishes. Her eyes wander over his face as she makes sure there’s nothing off with his demeanour, and sure enough, it’s the Steve she knows. But that doesn’t quell her confusion.

Steve is slightly offended by her question, his mood shifting just a bit. “What do you mean am I sure? Why else would I say this?” he scoffs, moving off of her to sit next to her. She sits up when he does, now a bit upset at his tone.

“Steve, just last month you told me you weren’t ready. You can’t be mad at me for wanting to be sure,” she reasons. Steve is confused for a moment until it all clicks.

~

One month earlier

YN and Steve both finally have a free day, deciding to spend it together. Instead of staying home, though, they opt for a day out on the town, hitting some shops and even stopping at a nearby bakery. In quiet bakery, they sit and indulge in their pastries and coffee as they make conversation about anything under the sun, until the sound of small cries catch their attention.

They both whip their heads over to the source and see a little baby boy no more than a few months old crying, and after a few moments of investigation they realize he’s dropped his binky out of the stroller. YN hops up and grabs it for the overwhelmed mother, tapping her on the shoulder as she’d been trying to console her son.

The woman is a little startled by YN’s presence but her eyes soften as she realizes what she’s holding, thanking YN for returning the binky back to her. “No problem, I couldn’t just leave it down there while you tried to find it or figure out where it was,” she explains, smiling softly. From there, the woman and YN go into a small conversation about her son, and YN’s heart just melts at how fondly the mother, whose name she found out was Harper, spoke of her son Jacob.

The two finish up their conversation with an exchange of numbers, and YN heads back to Steve with a pep in her step, sitting down with a smile. Almost immediately she goes into how cute Jacob was and everything she and the mother had talked about. In the midst of her rambling, she hadn’t noticed Steve had gotten quiet until now.

“I can’t wait to be a mom someday! Can you imagine a little me or a little you running around one day?” she asked, still smiling brightly. The smile was quickly wiped from her face when Steve didn’t answer her, but stood up and announced he was ready to go home. Her frown deepens at that, and she quietly gathers her things and they start the trek home, walking in silence beside one another as YN keeps herself from breaking down on the middle of the sidewalk.

They arrive home after what felt like an eternity to her, and she speeds to the bathroom and closes the door behind her, turning on the shower before letting herself begin to cry. She thought she’d been discreet with her sobs, but not long after she hears the bathroom door open and she silences herself. Through the foggy glass of the shower she can see Steve begin to strip down before he’s climbing in with her. Her back is to him but he already knows what’s happening so he turns her to him and pulls her into his chest.

The sobs start up again immediately, now with no restraint as she doesn’t need to hide from him anymore. He’s soothing her silently, rubbing his hand up and down her back and hasn’t stopped scolding himself for the way he reacted. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers once her cries quiet to small sniffles.

She shakes her head against him and he frowns, leaning back to get a good look at her face as she begins to speak. “No, I’m sorry,” she starts, and he’s about to say something but she stops him. “I jumped the gun, I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you so early. I know we’ve only been married for two months and-,” she’s cut off by the feeling of his lips on hers, silencing her rambling.

“Baby,” he whispers, even more guilty now that she feels it’s her fault. “Stop that right now. This is not your fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” he firmly tells her, making sure she doesn’t believe she’s at fault. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…I think I need a little bit more time. My life is so crazy and I want to be invested fully,” he explains.

“I should have expressed that, and I want you to know that as soon as I am ready you will be the first to know,” he finishes.

“I know and I’m sorry. We definitely need more time with just us,” she responds, her worries not completely leaving but staying in the back of her mind for the time being.

~

Now

“The mission I was just on���we were outnumbered,” he starts, taking her hands in his. “We almost died. And all I could think about as we were fighting as you. How you were here waiting for me to come home. I thought about coming home to you and our kids, the way I know you’d love them the way you love me, and I don’t want to die without getting to experience that with you,” he explains, and she’s listening intently as she takes in his words

“It’s just… I don’t want you to regret this later. I’d rather not be pregnant or a mother alone or have you resent me because I rushed you into this,” she explains to him, expressing her worries.

He was a little hurt by her words but he understands where she’s coming from, frowning as he sees the tears falling from her eyes. Reaching up he thumbs them away before speaking again. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I would never,” he starts, pausing to think over his next words.

“I’ve taken a break from saving the world for a bit. They’ve got it under control,” he smiles, pulling her in again as she cries harder at his revelation. “All I could think about while I was in there was us and our family, how happy we could be together. There’s nothing I want more,” he finishes, his little speech making her heart melt.

She scans his face for any sign of regret and when she finds none, she’s all in. He can see her eyes change almost immediately, and she’s taking her shirt off before throwing it somewhere in the room. “Well if you’re ready, why don’t we get to it?” she questions, and there’s no hesitation. He’s up and stripping so fast she has no time to comprehend it. The moment he’s naked he finally looks up at her to see her with her legs spread, a hand in between them.

Thinking back on that day now, he can’t believe he even thought like that. All he can imagine now is the fact that he’s about to get his own personal slice of heaven, manhandling YN until she’s on her hands and knees in front of him. To provide himself with even more access to his favourite place he just reaches forward and pushes on her back until her face is buried in the duvet.

Seeing her all dripping and clenching around nothing sends the last bit of his restraint practically bleeding from his body as he takes his cock in his hand and strokes it a few times. YN wants to look back and see what he’s doing but she knows better, staying where he’s placed her.

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he chokes, rubbing his thumb over the leaking, throbbing tip of himself. It’s only a few more seconds of his filthy moans and grumbling under his breath about how beautiful she looks before she’s inhaling sharply at the feeling of him parting her lips with his thumb and spitting filthily right where she needs him, her weepy hole clenching around nothing in anticipation.

“Please,” she begs, and Steve, never being one to deny her when she looks and sounds so pretty for him, obliges almost instantly. Not even a seconds later he’s gently gripping the base of his aching cock and parts her lips with the head, running it through to lubricate himself before he’s got the tip nudged at her entrance.

The sound it makes when he finally sinks himself into her is nothing short of obscene, a wet squelching sound accompanying the both of their moans of relief. He can barely contain himself when he immediately begins to thrust in and out of her, his body seemingly moving on its own to take what they both need.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to see you pregnant,” he grunts, his thrusts getting harder as his thoughts get dirtier. “Gonna keep you so full of my cum at all times to make sure it sticks. God, I can imagine it now. How beautiful you’ll look round and full of our kids,” he continues, and the way he used it in plural form doesn’t get lost on YN, her loud moans of pleasure being muffled slightly by the sheets.

Steve, always being one to want to hear what he’s doing to her, reaches forward and grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her up until he can hear her loud and clear. He can feel her legs start to shake and give out beneath her but he’s holding all of her weight up, fucking her as if his life depends on it, and to him it does. “You like the sound of that?” he asks, not slowing his punishing pace.

She can barely nod with the grip he has on her hair but she manages to, choking out a plea for him to do exactly that. “You wanna be so full of my cum at all times that you’re leaking down your legs, exhausted from how many times I work you on my cock?” he grits out through clenched teeth, trying to stave off his impending orgasm in an attempt to wait for hers.

No more words can leave her lips, just cries and sobs of pleasure as he’s drills so deep inside of her she can barely breathe. I mean he has to be puncturing her lungs at this point. Her orgasm is coming and it’s coming fast, but of course she can’t warn Steve, speechless. He knows her inside and out, though, and doesn’t need a warning to know what’s coming. (double pun is crazy)

“I know, don’t have to tell me. I can feel how tight you’re squeezing my cock. Go on, soak me, show me how much you want to be full of me and I’ll do just that,” he demands, and YN, always the obedient one, cums instantaneously. Her orgasm makes his hips stutter immediately as she locks down on him so tight, her body so tense that he can’t move. He lets go of her hair in a split decision, and he’s glad he did. He uses that same hand to reach around and rub at her clit quickly, making her tense up even tighter before relaxing entirely as she squirts all over the bed sheets below them, Steve praising her throughout the entire time.

Her orgasm sends him flying over the edge with a loud swear, his hips flush against hers as he floods her with his warm cum. It seems like it lasts for forever, his balls seeming to get fuller the more he cums. When he’s finally drained of all he has he stays buried inside of her for warmth for a while before he’s pulling out slowly and just sitting there and watching his cum start to drip from her.

He helps her fully lie down on her stomach before he’s getting off the bed, shushing her whines of protest. “Just gonna get you cleaned up, gonna be right back,” he coos, running a hand on her back to ground her a bit more so he can leave. She gives him a weak nod and then he’s hurrying out of the room to get a wet washcloth for her.

The process of cleaning her up is a bit rough with how sensitive she is but he makes it work, cleaning her up quickly and throughly before cleaning himself. He then helps her to the bathroom to pee, her body very weak but he knows she needs to do so.

When she’s all done they end up going into the guest room and sleeping there instead of sleeping on their soaked bed, Steve making a mental note to clean up first thing in the morning, he’s way too exhausted right now. When in the room, he helps her get all comfortable and tucked in before turning off the light and climbing in as well, pulling her into his embrace. The both of them start to doze immediately, and within a few minutes they’re both out, soft snores filling the room.

~

main masterlist

let me know what you thought about this!!! my ask box is open

requests open as well for all characters and all tropes!!!

[oxfords---notbrogues]

[multifandoms27-blog]

Marvel Masterlist

Started: 9/12/24

Last Updated: 1/8/25

Requests: Open

• ───────────────── •

Avengers

Bucky Barnes -Movie night | 18+

Wanda Maxmioff

Steve Rogers

Thor

X-Men

Logan Howlett

Ororo Munroe

Scott Summers

• ───────────────── •

What I will write: Fluff, NSFW, SFW, poly, mlm, wlw, gender neutral, yandere, etc.

What I wont write: Pedophilia, suicide, extreme kinks, more than four characters in something (it just becomes too much), being drugged, drugging someone else, homophobia, or racism.

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Grand Masterlist, where all of my fandoms are listed.

Be sure to include: Gender of reader (I do female, male and gender neutral), plot, character(s) you want (no more than four per ask), and what you specifically want (fluff, angst, smut, etc.)

Thank you, and request away if you’d like <3

[doktorphil]

McQueen.

[stevefrancisworld]

CLEANING OUT THE CARAVAN FOR THE WEEKEND LANDROVER SHOW

[thiemss]

[spacenutspod]

Welcome to Astronomy Daily, the podcast where we delve into the latest and greatest in space and astronomy. I'm your host, Steve Dunkley, and today we've got a stellar lineup of stories that will take you from Mars to the Moon and beyond. Let's dive into the cosmos.

Perseverance's Potential Fossil Discovery: NASA's Perseverance rover has made a groundbreaking discovery on Mars, potentially unearthing microbe fossils in a rock named Chevre Falls. This could be the most compelling evidence yet of ancient life on the Red Planet.

- Mercury's Diamond Mantle: New research suggests that Mercury may have a 15-kilometre thick layer of solid diamond beneath its crust. This discovery could revolutionise our understanding of the planet's formation and evolution.

- Moon Cave for Human Habitation: Scientists have discovered a massive cave on the Moon, which could serve as a potential shelter for future lunar bases. This cave, located in the Mare Tranquillitatis, offers natural protection from cosmic rays and temperature extremes.

- Twin Meteor Showers: Stargazers are in for a treat with the upcoming twin meteor showers, the Alpha Capricornids and the Southern Delta Aquariids, peaking next week. This rare celestial event will be best viewed from the Southern Hemisphere.

- Space Force and Private Sector Collaboration: Akema's subsidiary, Five Rivers Analytics, has secured a $480 million contract to support the US Space Force's satellite control network. This partnership aims to enhance national defence and intelligence operations.

- Sierra Space's Inflatable Space Module: Sierra Space has successfully completed another burst test on its inflatable space module, a key component of the future commercial space station, Orbital Reef. This innovation promises to revolutionise space habitation and commercialisation.

Don't forget to visit our website at astronomydaily.io to sign up for our free daily Space & Astronomy News newsletter, catch up on all the latest space news, and listen to our previous episodes. Follow us on social media by searching for AstroDailyPod on Facebook, X, YouTubeMusic, and TikTok. Until next time, keep looking up.

www.bitesz.com

[kyreniacommentator]

Two Gashead’s meet in Cyprus

By Richard Beale… We have been planning this for a while a chance to meet another Gashead (nickname of a Bristol Rovers supporter), yes there are two Gashead’s in Cyprus! Continue reading Two Gashead’s meet in Cyprus

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago

[therealefl]

Oldham Athletic - Five Potential Replacements For David Unsworth - Opinion

It’s safe to say – after pre-season expectations that this year would be finally be the one that saw promotion back to the EFL – that not everything has quite gone to plan at Oldham nine matches into the new National League season. Only one win in the league to date at the time of writing, which came in the second match of the campaign versus Aldershot, has seen the Latics sink to a lowly 22nd…

[lexirosewrites]

Ok hear me out the grammys r today & I am a swiftie

(PSA not Nancy Wheeler friendly & Billy Hargrove pops in like a jump scare but he's somehow better than Nancy??)

O!Steve loves his career, he gets to make music with his favorite producer & best friend ever B!Robin Buckley, he gets to tour his music around the world, his fans made it possible for him to pivot his career, & now he is free from the overbearing thumb of his previous record label. He's on top of the world, prepping to embark on his most ambitious & physically demanding tour of his career with a partner working on her own growing career in journalism

Then, Jonathan Byers messages him. He's a beta who works w A!Nancy Wheeler at her news network job where she's rising in the ranks as an investigative reporter. He confesses to Steve with evidence tht Nancy has been cheating on Steve w Jonathan for going on 3 months. Jonathan is ending things w Nancy & he felt Steve should know what Nancy has done & Jonathan emphasizes he feels terrible. Steve doesn't blame Jonathan necessarily, Steve is more upset w Nancy. So Steve breaks things off, gets professional movers to take all of her things out of his various apartments & homes & mail them all to her New York address all at once, gets her to give back every key she has, and Nancy doesn't even have the decency to pretend at remorse for how she's shattered him, just sneers & makes a remark abt him writing a song abt her as if the 5 years they were together meant nothing

Steve rebounds HARD

His begins his tour & decides to indulge in a relationship w blue eyed bad boy British actor Billy Hargrove, he's crass & abrasive & it ends like a car crash behind the closed doors of Steve's beloved Nashville apartment, but at least Billy parts w a statement tht shows the asshole is even more understanding than Nancy abt how Steve will write a song or 2 abt this

The show must go on & it does. It's during a break btwn cities tht his little step-brother Dustin sends him the link to a clip of a podcast

It's a group of 4 friends, two of them alphas, 1 a beta & 1 an omega man. 2 of them are involved in professional hockey. The podcast involves them playing d&d but they also chat for abt an hour at the start of every episode. The alpha Eddie Munson plays as star goalie of The Detroit Red Wings (a team his grandpa Otis cheers for) & the beta Felix calls plays from the box. While A!Jeff & O!Gareth both have lucrative careers in computer science & robotics. Gareth works w NASA & the Mars Rovers, no wonder Dustin likes the podcast his twerp of a brother is coworkers w Gareth

This particular clip is from the first hour of a recent episode & is abt how Eddie has been a not at all secret fan of Steve since his debut & how he got to see the tour when it stopped in Detroit & how it was the best show Eddie's ever seen. Eddie confesses he was a little sad to learn Steve isn't meeting anyone backstage during this tour as he puts himself on vocal rest as often as possible to maintain the ability to sing for 3 hours straight, because Eddie had a friendship bracelet he made with his number on it & he happily implies it was his phone number & the alpha graciously responds to the teasing abt having a long time celebrity crush on Steve

Steve is charmed

He only needs to send 2 messages to Dustin before he's sending a text to Eddie's personal number. They hit it off, they're both goofy in the same ways, Eddie is theatrical in a different but complimentary way, soon they're meeting up privately btwn stops on his tour & Eddie's prep for hockey season & then Steve is very publicly at a Red Wings game & soon after Eddie is in the very visible VIP tent at the New York show trading his own handmade bracelets w fans

& Steve ends the night w a lyric change he only told Robin about bc she's 50% of his impulse control just like he's 50% of her impulse control & they secretly recorded a remix of the encore song because they liked it so much. The lyric tht used to reference Nancy with "karma is the girl on the screen" is changed to "karma is the guy on the wings" which makes the crowd explode with noise

When the show is done Steve knows fans r waiting to see him exit the stadium waving one last goodbye for the night & he knows they see Eddie clearly waiting for Steve & tht they're all recording so he does something he's never done for a beau: he runs ahead of his security right into Eddie's arms & is swept into a kiss tht makes him feel like they're the only ppl in the world

The multiple videos from multiple angles go viral within minutes of posting & the internet descends into madness when the remix is dropped w the lyric change just 3 hours later, but Steve & Eddie r too busy cuddling in Steves nest in his NYC penthouse the both of them laughing at the ketchup blood in a bad slasher movie to care abt tht

biting both of them from happiness🥰

[bigfootsboytoy]

Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 

The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 

“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 

It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 

“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 

Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 

Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 

“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 

Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 

“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 

“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 

Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 

“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 

“But?” 

“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 

“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 

Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 

“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 

She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 

“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 

“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 

“Yeah. This guy.” 

There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.

Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 

“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 

“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 

“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 

“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 

“That too.” 

Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 

She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 

The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 

She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 

She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.

A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!

@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re

[gf2bellamy]

✮ Masterlist

the 100

⤷ captured — bellamy blake: bellamy rescuing you from mount weather

rover — bellamy blake: based on 3x01

rest — bellamy blake: walking back to your room, you see an open door, and inside, bellamy is visibly upset.

decision — bellamy blake ( req ! )

outerbanks

⤷ tranquility — jj maybank: relaxing morning on the hammock

the office

⤷ bunny — jim halpert: you see cute figurines in a magazine

suits

⤷ apology — harvey specter: harvey shows up at your door after an argument

stranger things

⤷ movies — steve harrington: steve is bored at work and you're the only one who makes his day better

customer — steve harrington: steve helps you out with a rude customer

ice cream — steve harrington: dustin catches steve staring at you

demogorgon — steve harrington (req ! )

teen wolf

⤷ heartbeat — isaac lahey: isaac can hear your racing heartbeat

stuck — isaac lahey ( req ! )

the hunger games

⤷

harry potter

⤷ library — draco malfoy: draco joins you in the library

maze runner

⤷ bandage - minho: minho is constantly getting hurt

superstore

⤷ misunderstanding — jonah simms: there has been a misunderstanding causing everyone to think that you and jonah are dating

lost — jonah simms: jonah and you lose bobby sue.

awkward — jonah simms: a customer thinks you are dating jonah

valentine's day — jonah simms: you have to set up the valentine's day display with jonah

[oldschoolfrp]

"Miss Lead," "The Austin Bandit," and other stars of the autoduel circuit and rovers of the wasteland (George "Speed" Webber, Autoduel Quarterly V1, N3, Steve Jackson Games, November 1983)

[themareverine]

Toy Soldiers | part one | worst!wolverine x namelessfem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

warnings: Indian in the Cupboard themes (iykyk), fluff, AU, not entirely sure what else at this point, nameless!femOC with blue eyes could be interpreted as reader, mentions of a best friend named Rose, etc, literally based on this silly little toy I rescued and now have crafted extensive lore for.

a/n: i didn't ask for this to become a multi-chapter thing. i really didn't, ok? this got away from me, but i really love these two so much already. this was fun to write, and she's a fun character to develop. worst!wolverine is just occupying too much brain space.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Dreaming in color is a pro, when you weigh it against the cons—usually.

She’d been dreaming in movie-like quality since she was a kid, could pinpoint almost to the exact timespace when she first realized her dreams were akin to Hollywood flicks roving about her brain like Spielberg classics.

She’d been six, maybe seven. A hopeless crush on Wednesday night’s Steve Irwin had somehow twisted the innocent power of her brain—the only, almost divine dreamstate visit to Australia she’d ever taken. Still she can taste the hot air, thick with sweat and arid desert, from the back of an obscure Land Rover, jostled and bouncing along forgotten roads and who-knows trails. Eyeballing open sky and endless outback sands, the Crocodile Hunter and his darling wife, Terri, vivid imaginations to a childhood fantasy yet, mostly, unlived. 

And ever since this God-granted, she’d always assumed it was a gift and thus titled it so, she’d been dreaming vividly most of the last twenty four years. Forgetting her dreams was the exception, black and white—unheard of. Tasting, speaking, reading, touch was wrapped up in REM and weighted blankets, vicarious life she’d never, really, lived in her waking moments—everything from the supernatural to gut-wrenching. Martial bliss and familial tragedy. Combat she could only ever hope wasn’t accurate. Fame and fortune. R rated filmstrips that left her stomach light and fluttery every morning, promptly, at 4:45—alarm shrieking in her ear, viscerally ripping her back to the land of the living with frothing teeth, the Greatest Showman custom alarm all but a slap in the face.  

It’s, as usual, dark when the numbers on her phone roll over to 4:45—sucked out of a dream like the vacuum of space itself lays claim to her soul, her eyes flutter open heavily to stare at the alarm. Hugh Jackman would never be so unwelcome as he is now, blaring from little iPhone speakers—she manages to lift a noodle-esque arm to slap at the noise hanging out in the darkness around the vicinity of her nightstand. 

Fingers locate the smooth screen, swipe away the prompt for snooze. Roll over. Hand over her eyes—it’s Saturday The day after Friday, her first day alone all week. World beyond is closed away behind walls and empty schedules, priorities otherwise left-fielded for such days as this.  

Warmth simmers beneath heavy weighted covers, trapped against her body. Clawing up through her mattress, threatening to pull her back into oblivion. Pharaoh’s hadn’t been so mummified, entombed as she is now, but that’s the beauty of a queen mattress left unshared—solidarity. Armies only wish they held such control over real estate as she did these sheets, this bed frame—very little could remove her from the ecstasy that is this Eden, the one place that did not require compliance, performance, untenable perfection.

Here she could rot for hours, engage in adventure that the earth would never understand—that man would jeer. 

Heaving a sigh melts her deeper into her astronaut-designed mattress, stomach suddenly flatter than it’s ever been as gently fingers tease at the strip of skin exposed. Back arching, stirring nearly-paralyzed muscle. Toes skip over warm satin sheets as she navigates to her side, arm tucking beneath her pillow. Drawing blankets to her chin, another deep breath closes her eyes, shuts off her brain—all but ready to return to dreamstate, the screen on her phone illuminates again—diiiiing.

Light explodes, lighting up the area of her nightstand just enough to give purpose to her surroundings. 

Nose scrunching in an effort to unhear and forget the notification, her eyes slowly pull open as she considers the phone. It’s her best friend, she knows it is—Rose is up early. All the time. Taking care of her little family at the base of the Teton mountains, as if this is Little House on the Prairie and such things were the norm.

Her inability to ignore anything from Rose props her up on an elbow, has her reaching for her phone—thumbs the passcodes. Opens the text, eyes scanning the message from last night. 

It’s a photo message. She’d sent it last night, proudly showing off the latest addition to her childhood nostalgia collection—a thrift store find, the little McDonald’s toy is hardly noteworthy. Scuffed and worn, it had seen adventures, surely, in its pre-her-possession life. Surprise had knocked her between the eyes like a stone when she’d managed to spy 1993 printed on the little action hero’s foot, in barely-there legalese. 

At thirty-one years old, one may have expected the little five-cent made-in-Taiwan to end up in the landfill, rotting alongside near-radioactive diapers or kill-the-turtles plastic straws.

Nope, not this one—Marvel’s very own little Wolverine. Dolled up in a cute little sci-fi bronze suit, ready for a fight. Retractable claws, the hardly-scuffed cowl, a proud encircled X in all its glory—wrapped up in a little sandwich baggie marked down at the thrift. She’d almost felt sorry for him in that cute aggressive way. 

And almost giddy at the fluke cocktail of age and condition, she’d pocketed the little guy. A pleased smile, her very own little Wolvie nestled in the leathers of her jacket, then the bottom of her purse. He’d adventured to work with her accidentally on Friday, plastic eyes watching her pass the time at the office from his little perch beside her keyboard and Starbucks. Almost had forgotten him, poor thing—he’d landed on her nightstand among the other needs-put-away items for the weekend, proudly standing in his posed little battle stance.

All he needed was matching Sabretooth, maybe Magneto, and he’d be good to go. 

Looky who came home with *me*, shot over to Rose with a little thrill, a Snapchat-like photo of him perched alongside her night cream and phone charger. More of a proud sentinel guarding her bedside table than anything, she’d regarded him playfully, like a child—had told him to close his eyes when she’d undressed. Had asked him about a movie to watch in bed as she managed hip-opening exercises, relaxing breathing techniques. All but kissed him goodnight, promising to get him settled among her other collectable childhood wonders in the morning.

After coffee and cardio, wouldn’t Hugh be proud. 

Rose’s LOL text all but smiles back at her, and she’s a little cross-eyed from the brightness of her phone. It improves when her eyes skate away from the phone, to the little Wolverine—wait.

Brow furrowing, his absence from the nightstand sparks more panic than she’d be willing to admit in therapy—she bends over the side of her bed, fingertips skating the floor in search of her little plastic wonder. Nothing but plush carpet, abandoned laundry she’d failed to relocate to her drawers—her phone slips from her hand as she hauls herself over the bedside, to peer beneath.

It’s dark, duh, and she fumbles upside-down with the flashlight on her phone. Sun levels of intense light, she makes arching passes beneath her bed, but no dice. Nada. Zilch–zippo on the Wolverine toy. 

“Well this is just a little ridiculous,” her mumble rolls off a dry tongue, from messy hair as she works herself back up from hanging over the bedside. 

Forcing off her weighted blankets has never felt more urgent, importance spiking her blood with ill-placed adrenaline she doesn’t understand—why she cares so much about a little three-decade-old McDonald’s toy she’ll never understand, but the thought of him lost in the abyss of her house is more unsettling, again, than she’d admit in therapy.

Legs swinging over the bed, she plucks her glasses from the tray on her nightstand, grabbing for the light robe dragging the floor from one of the nightstand’s knobs. 

Wrestling a steer would’ve been easier than un-inside-outing the garment, still hazy and half-asleep and wholly uncaffeinated, but she manages. Another scout under her bed reveals that, no, little Wolvie isn’t among the dust bunnies and lint of her carpeted under-bed floor.

Brow furrowing, her glasses slip down her nose as she hauls herself back to her feet, sleep-stiff muscles protesting as she massages the back of her neck. 

Hands on her hips, she reaches for her phone. “Had I known you had teleportation powers, little Lo, I’d have sold you off to NASA—come on,” Triggering the flashlight on her phone again, she dives to check between the headboard and mattress, to see if her Logan lookalike decided to magically dive headfirst into the almost-abyss—

“—you make a habit of talkin’ to open air, girlie?” 

Two things happen immediately in her body. 

First. Alarm jumps up in her chest like a devil, deep claws sinking into the meat of her chest only to rip away any sense of safety taking up residence behind her ribs, in her bones. Heart forgetting to throb, blood all but stands still in her veins, asystole in her arteries—she can feel the lining of her stomach twist into a viper-like coil so cold, she fears frostbite has set into her organs.

Fear knocks hard on the door of her sternum, ripping the wind from her lungs. Terror opens up her vocal cords and bludgeons a song from her throat, but it’s so dry in her apartment that the fleshy membranes of her mouth have all but become cragged Sahara sands. Tongue swelling to the size of her fist, she fears she’ll choke on it. Forces it against the back of her bottom teeth, jaw clenching with enough force to break open the world. 

Legs somehow managing to propel her up onto her mattress, across the bed, to the farthest corner of the space. Cold sweat raises to a dance across her skin, satin sleeping pants clinging to the flesh of her thighs as sapphire eyes attack the figure cutting through the threshold of her door—hands low and open, in placating surrender.

Brow furrowed with canyon deep lines, dark eyes flick over her frame as she takes a step back for each of the ones he cautiously makes into the room. Invading her privacy, an unwelcome intruder. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” early morning gravels his words, which hang low in baritones not at all unfamiliar, “‘m not gonna hurt you. You breathin’ ok?” Genuine concern passes through his eyes, deep and alive, but—not in a bright way. The corner of his lip tips up, “Don’t mean to scare ya, pretty.” 

Pretty? Sweetheart? Who the hell is this—?

Any familiarity his face holds is lost to the bite of adrenaline, slavering teeth trenching into the back of her brain. Seeming to lap at the spinal fluid all but bubbling down the length of her back. Chest heaving with effort, she fears her ribs might break. Cardiac muscle behind her chest bones all but explodes with every heavy heartbeat, reminding her to stay alive. That she, still, is living. 

Stomach sour, twisting like corded steel, she lunges for the foot of her bed—snatched the first thing she can retrieve. Face all but a blazing inferno of heat, nails all but pike into the soft plush of a stuffed animal. Her favorite. Or, rather, was—now little more than a weapon, it stands between her and the invasion like a fortress. 

“What the hell are you doing here,”she challenges, taking a half step back. Memories of kickboxing classes, somewhere in her youth, escape through the fingers of memories in the back of her head. More boxing posture than anything, she lifts her arms to chin level. Fingers tear into the stuffie like it’s a lifeline, like it’s protection. And for now, it is. 

Not giving him the chance to answer, his mouth hangs open in muted response, “This is my apartment—you can either leave or I’ll–I’ll forcibly remove you.” It would take a 911 call—it would mean grabbing her phone from the nightstand, punching the emergency button, and staying away from him during response time. All unlikely, given proximity. The size of the apartment. How he blocks the only damn exit with his huge-ass frame. 

Jaw snapping closed, a thick brow pops up. He chuckles. He think this is funny, “Whoa, take it easy, bub—” 

“—shut up! Stop talking!” Pointing a strong finger at him, she shuffles back on light feet. Bobbing as best she can, trying to appear light. Prepared. But everything in every manual in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for home invasion—all those home defense classes. The hours shooting clays and targets with her father. Worthless. 

I am so going to die. 

Another step into her sanctuary, holy of holies. “Quit moving, damnit!” 

The stranger stops mid-stride, brows arched in surprise at her tone of voice. Squinched nose, and tightly shut eyes add to what must be a comical look on her face. Coupled with crimson cheeks and the shake setting into her hands, she surely looks—well. A sight, if little else.

Realizing nothing short of an eternity has lapsed in the cool peace and blissfully ignorant darkness of closed eyes, hers pop open. She watches has near-pawlike hands, mapped with raised veins and pronounced callous, drop to his sides for all of a minute. Her heart cuts against her ribs like an ax laid to roots, willing to break something loose—he chuckles. Laughs. Some faraway light catches the darkness of his eyes, brightens his face in a way that only ever seemed so Hollywood, but is now real. 

And he laughs with his entire body for all of a few seconds, wrinkles at either side of his eyes deepening into canyons that seem to fill with his amusement, at her expense.Mind short circuiting, her toes curl into the carpet, calluses on her heels catching frayed fibers as she does her best, again, to stay light on her feet. Nothing about her is light, certainly, and she attempts to calculate distance, how many seconds it would take her launch her body forward, toward the door. Past him, into the corridor, out the front door.

 HIs hand extends, palm up. Waving her forward, as if she were some thing to beckon—

—until her stuffie chucks directly at his face, a blur of hot-pink fur and fluff. 

The moment she arched her arm and sent Mr. Hearts on his first-ever attempt of flight, her feet springboard off the carpet, launching her forward at a speed she never thought possible. Adrenaline jumpstarts every one of her cells, lacing through her veins like rocket fuel—and the world spins by in a blur of color, her chest racked with pain as her heart racehorses behind bones that are no less than temperatures akin to magma. 

Tunnel vision blocks out the world, save the nearly sparkling promise of the room’s exit. Tears bubble up on her lash line, hot and intruders on any clarity of brainspace she’s trying to will forward. Hot, breathy fear closes her throat, nothing but blood rivers through her ears—nothing except the ache of her throbbing heart, the painful push and pull of her lungs expanding and retracting. 

They say hearing is the last thing to go when your soul begins to fade into death, but it’s a lie—she can’t hear a damn thing. And she’s more than alive.

Missing completely the soft snikt!, the what-would-usually-be unmissable split of skin, there’s a muffled tearing of fabric as once beloved Mr. Hearts suddenly becomes two halves of himself. Puffy stuffing explodes into the air, faintly she can feel her beloved stuffed animal hit the floor mutedly. In some back door of her brain she knows what’s happened, but survival carries her feet—pumps her arms. Zeroes her gaze on the door, blocks out anything other than the gut instinct to run, run, run hard. 

Finger reach to grab the doorway, hurl herself around the corner—but it’s too late. Electric movement snaps through the air, a microsecond passes before a thick, heavy arm catches her around her waist. Hauls her backward, sucks her from the door like something from  Star Wars, the world spinning by in a Picasso of color and tears as she’s manhandled, forced back. Kicking her feet into the air, she wills him to break, throwing her body mass back, against him. Arches her back. Wrangles and claws at the hair on his arm, the muscle that is taught against her rebellion.  

Throat splitting with a shriek, she’s silenced when his enormous palm claps hard over her mouth. It feels like centuries have passed, but in reality, it’s been seconds. Breaths and heartbeats. Tears trailblaze hot down her face, her throat all but reverberating with sobs. Body heat wraps around her, butter down her spine as the arm around her middle pulls her tighter. Closer. Keep your enemies close—

And he’s tall, legs anchored behind her. Like a brick house. Snot begins to empty her sinuses in a slick, sticky mess. Her mouth attempts to open behind the palm of his hand,all saliva and spit. Doesn’t seem to do much. Digging her heels into the floor, her foot skims the floor. Looks for one of his. Finding it, she slams her heel against would-be soft bones, and he hisses. Grunts like an animal.

“Knock it off,” his baritone rumbles, a dangerous growl over her ear, “not here to hurt you, darlin’.” A lie. She doesn’t believe him, digs her heels farther into the soft flesh of his feet. Buries her nails into his muscle, the soft flesh of that tender spot under the wrist. Veins, lots of blood there. 

Something obscene slips past his lips. Fighting back more stinging tears, his fingers curl around her wrist bruisingly, and with herculean strength, he whips her about-face, suddenly chest-to-chest with her as his fingers fist in her hair. Pulls sharply, “fuckin’ hell—calm the fuck down,” his fingers fall from her hair, instead grab her chin with an almost bruising grip, “stop bawlin’, for Christssake,” 

Her nails milk as they dig into his wrist, deep red lines canyon the hand holding her face with a patience lost to most members of his sex. Hard, dark eyes hold hers with a fierceness that numbs her intestinal tract. For a moment, an arctic swirl is born and dies in his gaze, resurrected instead a hint of grief and—empathy, maybe. A lostness she can’t describe. Confusion punches lines between his knitted brows, etching deep into ruddy, masculine features a kind of unwordly handsome, had he not been sent to kill her. 

Oh God, please—Shaking, her eyes pinch closed again, unwilling to let him see any more of her soul. More snot and tears, saliva pearls between the seam of her lips as she tries, and fails, not to blubber. Knees buckle. Hangs there, full weight of her body supported on her chin between his fingers, jaw suddenly alive with inferno pain. It lasts seconds before he lets her go, and she sinks to the floor, slackdoll and sobbing. Staring across the floor, her cheek burns against the harsh fibers of the floor. 

Her belt. Abandoned, on the floor last night after a work dinner. It’s the only thing, and her brain conjures images of just exactly how she’d use it, suddenly Jackie Chan or GI Jane or some shit she’s seen a thousand times on film, has never executed. Hiccuping in short breaths between sniffles and sobs, tears leak into the carpet off her cheek. Her heart pumps blood that may as well pool into her chest, leak between the cracks in her confidence. 

Stepping back, he looks at her. A cocktail of surprise and irritated, he sinks to a crouch. Shakes off red marks that still linger on his arm, wipe her snot and saliva on his-–are those yellow?-–pants. No time to notice, to care—her nails catch against the fibers of the carpet. Begin to push her bodyweight up, on an elbow. 

Unburdening a sigh, his hand scrubs his face as hers darts across floorspace. Snatching the belt with a speed she’s never fostered, he doesn’t even have time to put two and two together before the leather snaps like a whip, thick silvers from a rodeo buckle landing fully on the bone of his jaw. Cuts a deep line that flashes scarlet, rips open flesh like a fillet knife. 

“Fuck!” it’s harsh, bestial.

Reeling back, she finds time to scramble to her feet like a clumsy foal, looping the belt around her fist once as he pops tall. Backpedaling away from arm’s length, she pistons towards the door, on fire and pumping adrenaline like a sieve. 

And she flies. Out of the bedroom. Down the corridor. Somehow she manages to find her keys on the kitchen table as his heavy, earthshaking feet pump down the hall. Fumbles over her own feet at the front door, slams into it hard, bounces off. Fingers suddenly unable to communicate coherently with her brain, the chain lock on her apartment door is all but burning as she tries, and fails, to work it just so. 

“Come on, come on! Work, you piece of shit—” she’s never sworn more in her life than she has now, and it’s sour, like bile splashing up on her back teeth. But it rips from her throat all the same, bitter and hot, as she mutters fuck, fuck, fuck me! under short, airy breaths that do nothing to put oxygen back into her body. May as well be a drowning soul, the way she sucks in air. Gasps for breath. Drowning or an emphysemic. 

Ignoring the hard breathing behind her is impossible. Whirling around on the ball of her foot, he’s close enough to lock her against the door. Her head falls back hard enough to knock against the door, rattle her teeth. And as her vision begins to settle from the bouncing in her cranium, she sees the three blades bury to the knuckle—the knuckle?—in her heavy, pristine oak front door. Rattles the wall, splits the sheetrock. 

Pupils blown wide, she can feel all the blood leave her body. Terror locks her spine between slavering, hungry teeth. Gaze welded to the blood pearling from fresh wounds between white knuckles, the hinge of her jaw fails. Her mouth opens mutedly, enough for him to count her teeth if he so desired. 

And maybe he does. “Goin’ somewhere, honey,” it isn’t a question. That grin is animalistic. “Stay awhile, huh?” 

He closes in. Her head snaps forward to find him. Nose to nose, he sneers at her, and her eyes think to move to the fillet of open flesh her attack has left on his jawline—or, had. No evidence of even so much as a mark on the sharp line of his jaw, just dark facial hair and sweat that’s bubbling up on his skin, angry red that fans up his neck. Swearing to God she can see the vein in his temple throb with blood, her grip on the leather belt tightens before reality sets in. 

Ohmygod, ”You’re—” her stomach resurrects up her throat. ”—Jesus,” and it isn’t so much a curse as it is a prayer, a hope. A lifeline—grasping at straws, praying something sticks.

Reality begins to fall away, through boneless fingers. Feeling the belt slip from her control, her throat suddenly constricts to the point of oxygen deprivation. Gaping like a fish, her tongue swells to a thick cotton she can no longer feel. 

Numb—everything buzzes with that painful, white-noise needling. 

And she does the only thing her body can manage. Shoves past him just enough to upset a chair—

—-and throws up. 

still working on my taglist but: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter and those who showed interest: @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals @theoreticalfreak @definitely-not-chill @ghostytoasty17 @werewolfpilar

[kittenfangirl20]

Housewife Au

Then

Sera glared at Adam and Lucifer: You get the hell out of my house!

Adam: B-but mama!

Sera: You lied to me! Right to my face! You want to live a life like that you can do it somewhere else!

She gave Adam ten minutes to collect his things, he cried the whole time and Lucifer had to wait in his truck. Sera wouldn’t let the main that corrupted her baby back in.

Adam got in the truck and Lucifer drove away.

Lucifer: I’m sure it’ll be okay dove.

Adam cried: I thought she’d love me no matter what.

Lucifer held his hand: I know it’s not the same, but I will always love you.

Now

Adam got up and ready for the day. He knocked on all the bedroom doors of his and Lucifers children as he made his way to the kitchen.

Adam: Rise and shine!

All the kids got up, Charlie, Abel, Lucas, and Avery came down from breakfast. Adam packed their lunches and got things ready for Avery’s play date.

He grabbed his Louie Vaiton fanny pack and his ray band sunglasses.

Lucifer came down and kissed Adam sweetly.

Adam: Have a good day darling.

Lucifer: I will, I love you.

Adam: I love you too.

Adam grabbed his keys and ushered the kids into his Range Rover to take them to school.

Steve, their neighbour was watering his lawn he couldn’t help but find Adam attractive. Not that he ever looked Steve’s way.

Adam: We’re gonna go see Eve and Jake today Av how’s that sound?

Avery: Yay!

Jake was Eves son and Adam believed that his little girl had a crush on him.

He dropped Charlie, Abel, and Lucas off at school and then he went to Starbucks to get himself and Avery a drink and a snack.

Once at Eve’s home, Adam greeted his friend by kissing her on the cheek. They both talked excitedly about their day and the new fashions out for them to try out.

Eve: Honestly you look amazing in anything with those curves and that ass.

Adam: Thank you, I gotta always keep my husband happy.

In spite of how rough it was at first, Adam was so happy married to Lucifer. He loved Adam so much and their children were so sweet. It was even better when Lucifer’s toy company became such a success. They became rich basically over night. They then moved to a very well off neighborhood which was how Adam and Eve. They were called the top housewives of the neighborhood even though Adam was a man. He didn’t mind, he liked it.

Eve: I heard that the other house next to your house was bought.

Adam: I didn’t realize that, I hope that they are nice. Susan was a nightmare and I know it is wrong to speak ill of the dead, but there is nothing nice to speak of her.

Eve: I can’t blame you.

At the same time Lilith, who was Lucifer’s ex was moving in next door. She didn’t realize she made a mistake in to not stay with Lucifer when he decided to go into toys especially duck themed toys for kids. She didn’t think one would succeed in something so silly, but Lucifer proved her wrong. Even though Lucifer was married, she truly believed that once he saw she was a famous model.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66