#still kicking myself for not seeing it the first time round

[bisexualbeetlejuice]

something something "seasons change but people don't"

[poguehearted77]

Baby Steps

Summary: You and Rafe are expecting your first child and decide to take a trip to the beach, not expecting to be joined by a guest with chubby cheeks and pull ups.

-some more domesticated rafe as per your request-

The golden hues of the late afternoon sun stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Rafe arrive. You smile at the feeling of the hot sand between your toes.

The waves lazily lap against the shore, creating a serene soundtrack to your special day. It was a beautiful day out, for sure. With the cooler gripped in one hand, with the umbrella on top, and the box containing a special mini cake in his other hand, Rafe is already in full preparation mode.

“Here, let me help with that,” you offer, but Rafe shakes his head, his grin both charming and determined. "You're already carrying something valuable, let me handle the rest, okay?" Rafe reassures you as he places the items down in a nice vacated space.

Far enough from the waves to not get wet, but close enough to still hear the water cracking against the sand at an amplified volume as the perfect white noise for you to do some beach reading. You glance down at your rounded belly, letting your left hand rest over the precious cargo he's referring to.

"I'm only four months, babe. I can still carry things. Just let me help you set up at least." You hold onto the muscle of his upper arm with a soft frown and he can't resist. An idea visibly dawned upon him. "Yeah, you know what." He props open the cooler and pulls out a chilled bottle of water, "I need you to drink this, I don't want you to get too hot."

Your eyes roll and you take the bottle, about to ease yourself down onto the beach chair when Rafe is suddenly behind you, a guiding palm on your lower back to lighten your load as you sit down. "Rafe, you're joking, right? I know how to sit down by myself." You huff and he sees you're starting to get frustrated.

He crouches down to be near you, "Look, baby. I'm sorry, okay? It's all just so new to me and I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby especially not if I can help it." Your arms unfold, and your composure melts under his apologetic gaze.

How could you be mad at him? He was just so cute and excited to be a dad, he wanted to make sure you had the safest, most comfortable pregnancy possible, and he made sure of that at all times. He set up everything while you didn't lift a finger.

You'd even slipped into a light nap as he did so. Waking up under the shade of the beach umbrella and almost certain there was an extra layer of sunscreen on your arms that wasn't there before.

Your towels laid out on the sand in front of you where Rafe knelt, the cake now put away in the cooler as he organized the supplies in the first-aid kit he insisted on bringing along.

"Is this all you're gonna do all day?" You mumble, lifting up your sun hat a bit to see him better and he smiles. "Well, you fell asleep on me, so I was keeping myself busy." Taking that as your cue to stand, leaving your hat behind on the chair and untying the flowy coverup you'd been wearing.

"I'm up now, let's get in the water." He's right behind you as your heels kick up sand with your eager steps to the ocean. Your laughs blend harmoniously in the water. Playful splashes and stolen kisses fill your afternoon for the next hour until you're ready for lunch.

Now Rafe was lounging under the shade, sunglasses covering his sky-blue eyes as he relaxed on the chair. Meanwhile, you enjoyed the warm sun kissing your skin as you sat on the towel, preparing some sandwiches for you both to share.

That brings you to now, the two of you sitting on the sandy towels with satiated appetites and a pleased smile on your faces, enjoying each other's company. "You ready now?" Rafe proposes, referring to the mini cake in the cooler which had either a pink or blue filling. You shake your head.

"Not yet, I need more time." He laughs, "At this rate, you'll find out when the baby comes." He says casually and your brow arches, "Only me? Don't you mean the both of us?" His head shakes, "Uh uh, I'm eating that cake with or without you." He jokes and you swat at him, causing him to spill some water from the bottle he was sipping before putting it away.

His attention was stolen from you and focused on something behind you, before you could even turn your head, Rafe's reflexes are shown as his arms reach out for the tumbling toddler who'd tripped over the uneven terrain and it seems she'd been running at a pace faster than her chunky legs could keep up with.

"Woah! Hey there, pudding," The nickname rolls off Rafe's tongue so naturally you hardly even recognize it, she looks up at him from within his stronghold. "Hi!" She waves and Rafe smiles so big it warms your heart to see.

"Where are your parents?" He follows up but she busies herself with the chain around his neck, blabbering the words 'Dada' in the sweetest voice you'd ever heard.

Rafe's eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile as he looks at you, mouthing the words, "She's so cute" and you mouth back, "I know," "I wonder where her parents are." You say, checking the tag on her swim top for any signs of identification but nothing. The two of you stand, the toddler hanging off Rafe's side, having the time of her life with a cheeky smile.

The two of you paced the beach, up and down. "I know her parents are worried sick," You mutter, checking your phone for any services you can contact for a 'lost baby on the beach please help!'

"If they don't come back, do you think we can keep her?" Rafe inquires and you laugh, "It's probably every parent's nightmare to hear a stranger say that as you're holding their missing child." You say, stopping in your tracks and placing your hands on your back with a sigh, worn out from all the walking.

"Are you okay?" Rafe checks in and you nod, "Maybe we should just go back and wait? Her parents might be walking around too and we keep missing them." Rafe agrees and the three of you walk back to your place on the beach, each of you holding her hand as she had insisted on being put down.

You kept her busy once you returned to your spot, building sand castles and giving her some water and sunscreen to keep her hydrated and protected from the slowly setting sun.

"How old are you?" Rafe laughs at your attempts to have full conversations with who he assumes is a two-year-old, but your guess was three. "Me Ava." She says and your eyes widen. Your initial question remained unanswered but now you had other answers.

"Ava! Hi Ava!" You coo, tickling her tummy until she's a bundle of fits and giggles, completely oblivious to the longing look Rafe has on you. "Tummy!" She says, and you laugh, not sure what she's talking about until she places a hand on your belly. "Big tummy!" She repeats and Rafe can't help but stifle a laugh at her direct observation.

"That's right. There's a baby in here." You explain but her head tilts, lost. "Baby?" You gave the soft waves of her hair a gentle pat, admiring her innocence, "Yep, it's either a girl baby or a boy baby." To your surprise, she begins chanting for a 'boy baby'. "See, Ava gets it." Rafe teases, always taking the opportunity to talk about having the boy he so desperately begs you for as if you had any say in the matter.

"Hungry," She whines and that sends Rafe digging into the cooler for snacks. You let her decide which fruit she wanted but her eye had caught sight of the mini container of cake that had been taken out in order to find the other items.

"Looks like she knows what she wants," Rafe smiles and you think about it, "We can't give her sugar, Rafe. Here, do you want some watermelon?" Her focus now is on the juicy red fruit you presented to her on a plate.

She must be fond of it, slurping up the juices and making a mess of her top. Fortunately, it was later washed off with the salt water when Rafe insisted on playing with her after she'd digested her food.

The sun was slowly beginning to set and the three of you had been lounging around for the last thirty minutes or so, when Ava made a loud shriek, "Mama!" She yelled, hopping off the towel and into her mom's arms.

Ava's mom graces you with a tight hug and a desperate stream of never-ending apologies and gratitude. She congratulated you on the little one you were expecting, confident you'd be amazing parents. "Now, what do you say to the nice people who watched you, Ava?" Her mom prompts, with what you could imagine is a very secure hold on Ava's hand, ensuring she doesn't slip away again.

"Thank you!" She beams, showing off her tiny baby teeth and you feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The last two hours, though chaotic, gave you the reassurance you were looking for with the whole parenting thing.

You wave them goodbye and you take a deep breath, "I'm ready," You don't have to explain anything more and you're both walking back to your spot to cut the cake. Only to see a toddler-sized footprint in it that Ava must've caused as she got up, denting the container and the contents inside smushing against its confines.

Pink.

"Wait…" You say, in disbelief, kneeling down with Rafe doing the same. "Are we-" He says, eyes misting over and you call him out, "Hey, I thought you wanted a boy." He holds you close, "I thought so too, but I'm honestly just glad it's with you." He brings you in for a kiss on your forehead. She's so loved already and she doesn't even know it.

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

[sixosix]

summary wc 1.5k, lyney’s teapot voicelines (with a bit of modification here and there) turned fic. just fluff and pining lyney LOLL to celebrate him coming home yesterday ❤️

“Hey, Y/N!”

Arriving at the Serenitea Pot only to come face-to-face with a certain illustrious magician is what you haven’t been expecting. You stumble back from surprise, and Lyney reaches out to catch you naturally, like this was something out of his scripted shows.

He beams. “I just knew you would be making an appearance here!”

“D-Don’t scare me like that!” you scold, warmth spreading across your face with each passing moment of his proximity. What’s with Lyney’s breath coming off so warm? It burns more than holding his vision for too long. “What if it was someone else who came in here?”

“That’d be really awkward,” Lyney admits, but his easy smile and undaunted fingers on the small of your back convey no embarrassment.

“I almost forgot that I gave you permission to this teapot,” you sigh, gently pushing him away with a palm on his chest. He concedes, pulling you upright and backing off.

You place your hands on your hips. “Well? How do you like it here?”

Lyney’s smile softens impossibly, letting his gaze wander around your teapot. Outside, it’s dim and wet from the rain, but here, his face is cast in a warm, gold glow—it’s taking all of you not to crash onto his chest and use him as a heated stuffed toy. “Your home is breathtaking. Even a legendary magician like myself can confidently say I've never seen or heard of anything like it!”

You huff, gesturing for him to follow you inside. “Impressed, are we?”

“It’s hard not to be impressed by anything when it comes to you,” Lyney says without missing a beat. You thank every archon listening that your back is facing him, not your bitten lips and wide eyes. “But were I to say I've already gotten completely used to it... Would you think I'm lying?”

Is he planning to make himself at home on the first day? “Sure doesn't seem like the truth.”

Lyney laughs, speeding up to walk beside you. “Aw, that really hurts my feelings… But, I was really being honest this time!”

“Ha, ha,” you say blankly, twisting the doorknob open. Lyney ooh’s and aah’s at the sight of your hall, twirling around as he takes each in, from souvenirs you received in Fontaine to furniture you bought all the way from Mondstadt.

He makes his way to a shelf filled with various items you’ve collected over time, region to region. The Adhigama Wood still looks as clean as it was first bought, after you’d been lectured about the special paint that’ll keep it grease-free, appearing untouched. Lyney looks hesitant to reach out, scanning a framed picture in the middle.

It’s a solo picture of you with flowers adorning your head, two bouquets wrapped in large leaves in your arms, and your face captured mid-laugh. The aranaras took it. Lyney looks at it for a moment too long, his finger hovering above the glass.

Starting to feel a little strange about it, you stand beside him, wondering if there’s anything wrong with the picture that he’s seeing. Yet there is nothing but a thin layer of dust on the image, which you swipe away. “Something caught your eye?”

He turns back to you with a mischievous grin. “Well, looks like I've got no choice but to stay here for a while longer! After all, it will take some time for me to win your trust again.”

Lyney looks up at you through his lashes, tilting his head. “...You won't kick me out, right?”

‘Staying here for a while longer’ meant that Lyney was checking every nook, cranny, and room, empty or unoccupied (“Some of your friends live here?” Lyney gapes). You give him a bit of a story for each one, and he soaks your words in like a sunflower to the sun, never appearing disinterested even when you speak about a round table like it’s your firstborn child.

He’s explored more than your friends whom you’ve offered to give rooms to, which is saying enough. And now, exhausted, you pair rest on the loveseat, gazing at the ceiling wordlessly.

“Say,” Lyney says, after moments of silence. He sits up, shuffling closer to you until he kneels on the seat cushion and displays his hat. “Why don't you take a look at this? Do you see anything different about it?”

You squint. “Don't think there's any difference.”

“Ah, but that just means you need to look at it more carefully! Just come a bit closer.” Lyney brightens when you play along, drawing nearer himself. “So, do you have the answer? Is it the pattern, or the color? You should have seen this hat many times before.”

“...Nope, still not seeing it.”

He sighs, resting the hat on your head. “What a pity... Although, your conclusion is actually correct.”

Unbelievably confused, you reach out to hold it, patting all around it. “Is it bigger or smaller than before?” You can’t see much from this angle, nor feel much.

“You look adorable,” Lyney grins, pinching your cheek. “And no, the whole thing was misdirection. I just played a little trick, and stole something of yours. And after that, I also slipped a card into your pockets.”

You blink, reaching down to your pockets and fishing out a card, just as he’s said. It feels as real as it can be between your fingers, still warm from its previous holder.

Lyney grins at your dumbstruck expression, pleased. “Now, can you guess what I stole from you?”

You take a moment to answer, watching him carefully. “My heart?”

He jolts just as his entire face bursts into flames. “Ah, um, a most unexpected answer! I have to say, even my heart has begun to race too.” He looks at you with a petulant glare, as if saying, why would you say that?

Lyney clears his throat, “What I actually stole, however, was your ‘attention.’ E-Even though it's not nearly as valuable as your heart, it's still very important to us magicians nonetheless!”

He trails off, face still pink. “...Okay, you can return my card to me now.”

After that, it had been pretty hard to get rid of Lyney.

He seems to always be there whenever you come around—either spread out on the couch and practicing cards with one hand until you call for him, or appearing in front of you the moment you warp in. You ask if he’s just here every day, waiting for you, but he seems embarrassed to give you an answer.

Today, he has his pets with him. Some of them fly and run around outside, with Lyney at ease when you assure him that there are no signs of monsters here, and you have an Adeptus continuing to keep this haven safe.

You have Lyney’s hat on your lap, playing with Rosseland. The cat is performing a little magic show for you, taking after its owner, especially with how it soaks in your applause with a smug smile.

Lyney is a deflated balloon on the other side of the room, most likely regretting his decision as now you’ve poured all your attention on his pet assistants instead of him. Even worse, his pets seem to love you much more.

Having enough, Lyney approaches from behind, frowning at Rosseland, who appears unbothered, loving the crowd as always.

Your head falls back to the couch, looking at Lyney with a dazzling smile. “You were asking if they could stay here, right? I think you can guess my answer.”

Lyney is torn between celebrating and groaning at the thought of possibly more days of you ignoring him to come. “That would be wonderful,” he says instead, though sincerely. “Thank you.”

You laugh quietly, pulling him close with your fingers on his nape. “Why do you look constipated? Don’t tell me you’re feeling jealous over your own cat?”

He doesn’t tell you, so he keeps quiet instead, the red on his cheeks spreading all the way to his neck.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Lyney says, feigning annoyance while you chuckle. He leans impossibly closer, until your noses are barely an inch away.

“Your cat is watching,” you warn upon seeing the look on his face.

Lyney groans, snatching the hat and wearing it on his head, where Rosseland settles inside by practice. Then, against your mouth, he whispers, “Haven’t I made it obvious I brought them here as an excuse for this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “So you are jea—”

You didn’t end up finishing your sentence at all, swallowed by the press of his lips.

 

By this point, you’re no longer surprised whenever you enter your teapot. 

“Morning, Lyney,” you say, leaving him stunned instead when you plant a kiss on his cheek before maneuvering around and entering your home.

It takes a while for him to snap out of it. Lyney grins, catching up to you. “Good morning. It would be great if I could see you every morning if you’re gonna kiss me like that.”

a/n more sixosix lyney fic what have i become

[major-trouble]

There's this book I want to talk about. About a Perfectly Normal Spaceship (lol) and the adventures of its crew.

So, I know I keep harping on about this, but I finished my reread this evening and I have to say - it's better the second time through.

There were a lot of things I missed on the first round, mainly because I was devouring it as fast as I could in a wide-eyed rampage of unbelievably hyper-focused attentiveness that nearly made me mess up the start of the academic year for a major post-secondary institution.

But anyway.

Taking a much calmer, more measured approach, I still found myself drawn deeply into the story and anticipating the next plot point with glee and amxiety. I could clearly see the foreshadowing now. And it made the experience richer.

For the record, I fucking hate reading first person narratives. They drive me up the wall for personal reasons. And first person present tense?? Fucking hell. This story blows my mind with how well the author takes these elements and makes them work. I want to hug Aspen and kick them in the ribs. I want to listen to Tal talk about shit forever. I want to understand Celti's motives and give Hive the opportunity to see butterflies.

The characters are real and grow in ways I was expecting.

Anyway, please go read this story. It's not going to change your life, but it will definitely cause a time dilation effect and make you late for something. Also go check out the rest of the @derinthescarletpescatarian stuff. You won't regret it.

[deadmeat666]

COURT FUCK hoshiumi korai x top amab reader

warnings. public sex, creampie, extremely shameless kourai, exhibitionism, someone took a picture of them going at it in the end. and the biggest one is extremely bad and rushed writing.

A/N. guys i love him so much you don't even know. this is based off adlers hoshiumi because he's so cute. NOT proofread cuz im lazy like that.

minors, fujoshis and blank blogs DNI.

Loud cheering were heard in the background, but it felt like the only sounds you were hearing are skin on skin contact and Kourai's shameless moaning. You tried to remember what even got you here in the first place, but you'd immediately be snapped out of your though when his hole would squeeze, sucking in your cock hungrily, incaging it inside his tight hole.

At this point, you were basically multitasking. Holding his hips in place as you continue to shape his inside into the shape of your cock, as you continue to search in your mind for at least, at least some kind of a lead.

God, of course he had to have such an intoxicating body. Was this on purpose? His milky skin flushed as sweats trickled down, the way you were holding his hips so hard to leave a bruise on his soft flesh. His moans. God, his moans. They echoed through your ears, encouraging you to go harder, faster, leave the Hoshiumi Kourai all knocked up.

Ah. You remembered now. It was after a match against Schweiden Adlers. Ultimately, your team had lost. But Kourai was greedy. He felt like a nice, clean victory over your team wasn't enough for him, no. He wanted more. Something that'd leave him all satisfied—not really. He'd still come crawling back at you, begging on his knees, wanting more, more and more, every hour of the day, 24/7. In different position every time. Oh, you both are in public? Well, they all can watch! He loves the thrill of someone or even multiple people recording him. Waking up next morning in your bed, all sore and nicely bred. He'd check his phone specifically Twitter (now branded to X but I can't bring myself to write it) to see him all over the frontpage, with you absolutely fucking him like a wild animal. But let's put all of that aside for now.

You couldn't tell if people noticed. Both of you were engaging it in a semi-secluded corner of the court. The next round had already kicked off. Maybe Hoshiumi was hoping for the people on the stands to take notice and tear their attention away from the game, onto the both of you. Maybe not and he'd like to keep all this moment all to himself, he thought that nobody deserved to see the lewd moment between the both of you. Selfish.

You relished in the way his ass would jiggle the second your pelvis would make contact with it, the way your cock would disappear in and out of him, releasing lewd wet noises and leaving your cock coated with a brand new glossy wet shine everytime.

You also appreciated the little details, too. You loved seeing his white hair bouncing with every thrusts, the way his eyes would slightly cross when your tip would force to his prostate. The light blush coating his cheeks, the drool that would escape through his lips that was currently biting his lip, dripping down to his chin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This all felt too fucking good. It was bound to happen. You shot your seed into him, maybe a little too much but was Kourai even complaining? Hell no! It would be unreasonable for him to do so. Your cum felt so warm inside of him, his hole tightening around your shaft like he was trying to milk all cum left in your balls dry-

Click

It sounded like the sound of a camera shutter going on. Whoever that was, they probably acquired a new getting off material.

[d-z20]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha goes up against the Scarlet Witch in a fight and refuses to back down until the end, no matter what it may cost her. Her injuries are severe and you tend to her them, providing comfort into the night

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt (A physical & R emotional but not by each other), whole lotta comfort, protective reader

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Fic is based off this request. I should clarify that I actually don't watch MMA so I'm really sorry if there's inaccuracies, I gave myself a crash course for Heavy Hits so I'm hoping it's all okay.

AO3 | Master List

The atmosphere is tense

The lights in the arena shine brightly, casting a dramatic glow over the octagonal cage at the centre. The crowd roars as “The Scarlet Witch” is announced, Wanda Maximoff striding confidently into the ring. Her crimson gear matches the fierce energy in her eyes. Across the ring, Agatha Harkness, your girlfriend, is a vision of defiance.

It’s deafening, the crowd’s energy crackling like electricity in the air. You stand just outside the octagonal cage, gripping the metal fencing as though it might somehow hold you upright. The referee is giving final instructions, but your eyes are locked on Agatha. She stands tall, her lean frame wrapped in a sleek purple sports bra and matching compression shorts, her hands taped beneath her open-finger gloves. Her dark hair is pulled back tightly into a braid, leaving no distractions. She looks lethal—confident and determined.

But you know her better than anyone. Under her stoic expression, there’s always a flicker of doubt before a match, one she’d never admit to. As her partner in and out of the gym, you’ve seen her highs and her lows. And this fight? This one feels different. Facing Wanda Maximoff is like stepping into a storm. Wanda has a reputation: precision, aggression, and devastating power.

You’re here as part of Agatha’s cornermen. Not just her girlfriend but her trainer, sparring partner, and the person she trusts most to see her through battles like these. It’s your role that allows you to stand so close to the cage. Still, you hate being this near. You hate feeling so helpless.

“Let’s go, Agatha!” You shout as the bell rings, your voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd.

The fight begins cautiously. Wanda moves like a predator, light on her feet, her red-and-black shorts glinting under the arena lights. Her punches come fast, jabs testing Agatha’s defences. Agatha responds in kind, her kicks snapping out sharply, keeping Wanda just out of reach. For a moment, it looks even. They exchange blows, neither landing anything decisive. Your heart races every time Agatha ducks or blocks a strike—so far, so good.

But as the first round wears on, Wanda’s strategy becomes clear. She isn’t just fighting to win; she’s fighting to break Agatha down. Her strikes grow heavier, targeting Agatha’s ribs and legs. Agatha manages to return fire, her high kick glancing off Wanda’s temple, making the redhead stumble. You surge with hope, pounding the cage wall in support.

“Beautiful! Keep her on the ropes, Aggie!” you yell.

But Wanda recovers too quickly. She counters with a vicious combo—an uppercut followed by a low kick that makes Agatha’s stance falter. The bell rings to signal the end of the first round, and you rush to her corner.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, your hands gentle as you wipe sweat from her face with a cool towel.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her breathing is laboured, and you can see the faint beginnings of a bruise forming on her ribs. “She hits like she’s trying to kill me, though.”

“Stick to the plan. Keep moving. Don’t let her back you into the cage,” you say firmly, holding her gaze. “You’ve got this.”

The second round is brutal. Wanda turns up the aggression, landing a spinning kick that sends Agatha staggering. You clench your fists, shouting at the top of your lungs, willing her to keep going. Agatha fights back fiercely, landing an elbow that opens a small cut above Wanda’s eye. But it isn’t enough to slow her down. By the end of the round, Agatha is clearly hurting. Her breathing is ragged, and she’s clutching her side.

“Let me call it,” you plead as the medics check her during the break. “Agatha, you’ve done enough.”

“No,” she says sharply, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m finishing this.”

The third and final round begins, and you hold your breath. Agatha gives everything she has, landing a solid right hook that makes Wanda stumble. For a moment, you dare to hope. But Wanda is relentless. She unleashes another devastating combo—a liver shot, followed by a spinning backfist that sends Agatha crumpling to the mat. The referee steps in immediately, waving Wanda off and calling a technical knockout.

You don’t wait for permission; as soon as the match is over, you’re in the cage. The sight of her lying there, blood trickling from her lip and her face already swelling, breaks your heart. She’s clutching her ribs, her breaths shallow and ragged.

“Agatha, my love, I’m here,” you say, your voice trembling, dropping to your knees beside her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Her eyelids flutter open, and she manages a weak smile. “I totally won that, didn’t I?”

“Always the joker,” you whisper, brushing her damp hair back. “You fought like hell, sweetheart.”

With the help of the medical team, you carefully lift her, her weight pressing against you. Her arm is draped over your shoulders, and you wrap your arm securely around her waist. Every step out of the cage is agonising, her quiet whimpers slicing through you.

Back in the locker room, you lay her down gently on the physio bed. The medics confirm a fractured rib and multiple bruises but assure you it isn’t life-threatening. As soon as they leave, you stand at her side, holding her trembling hands.

“Agatha, why do you do this to yourself?” you ask, your voice breaking as you clean her up. She hisses in pain when the antiseptic touches her skin, but she doesn’t complain.

“Because I love it,” she says softly. “And because I have you to patch me up.”

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, but your touch is gentle as you bandage her ribs and ice her swollen cheek.

—

The drive home is quiet, the weight of the night pressing heavily on both of you. Agatha leans against the car window, her face pale beneath the faint streetlights. Her breath hitches every time you hit a bump, and each sound twists like a knife in your chest. You’ve never felt so desperate to wrap her in safety, to shield her from the pain she insists on enduring for the sport she loves.

When you finally pull into the driveway, you turn off the engine and sit for a moment, just looking at her. Her eyes are closed, her brow slightly furrowed even in rest. You reach over, gently brushing your fingers over her cheek. She stirs at the touch, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“Caught staring?” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but teasing.

“As usual,” you reply softly. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll carry you inside,” you insist.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s no bite in her words, only affection.

“I don’t care,” you reply. “You’re not walking.”

Despite her protests, she lets you carry her up the driveway, the weight of her in your arms a grounding reminder that she’s still here, still whole despite the bruises and fractures. You settle her carefully onto the couch in the living room, arranging pillows around her and draping a blanket over her lap. She sighs as she sinks into the cushions, her body finally relaxing a fraction.

“Stay,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open to find yours. “Don’t run off.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But you need food, Aggie. You haven’t eaten since before the fight.”

She grumbles something unintelligible, but the corner of her mouth quirks up as you disappear into the kitchen. You rummage through the fridge and cupboards, settling on her favourite comfort food—a simple grilled cheese sandwich with a cup of warm tomato soup. It’s nothing fancy, but you know it’s exactly what she’ll want.

When you return, her eyes light up at the sight of the tray. “You spoil me,” she says, her voice laced with affection.

“Rotten,” you tease, kneeling beside her as you set the tray down on the coffee table. “Now, eat. Slowly.”

She obeys, though her hands tremble slightly as she leans forward to pick up the sandwich. You watch her carefully, ready to step in if she needs help. Between bites, she keeps glancing at you, as if grounding herself in your presence.

Once she’s finished, you clear the tray and return with a glass of water and the prescribed pain medication. She tries to wave you off when you fuss over her, but you catch the way her eyes soften every time you adjust her blanket or tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Movie or book?” you ask once she’s settled again, her head leaning back against the cushions.

“Book,” she says after a moment of thought. “Something soft. Something... distracting.”

You nod, disappearing into the small shelf by the window. You pick a collection of short stories about witches you know she loves; its worn cover is a testament to how many times you’ve read it together. Returning to her side, you slide onto the couch, gently easing her to lie back against you. She winces slightly as she shifts, her body pressing into yours, but once she’s settled, her sigh is one of contentment.

“Comfy?” you murmur, wrapping your arm carefully around her waist, mindful of her ribs.

“Perfect,” she whispers, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

You begin to read, your voice soft and steady as you let the rhythm of the words wash over you both. Agatha’s breathing slows, her body melting into yours as you turn each page. Occasionally, she murmurs a comment about a line she likes, her voice laced with sleep.

By the time you reach the third story, her eyes are closed, her head tucked beneath your chin. You let the book fall to your lap, your hand shifting to stroke her hair gently. The tension from earlier in the night begins to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that feels like home.

—

Later, as the night deepens, you coax her into the bedroom. She protests faintly, her voice slurred with sleep, but you’re firm. “You’ll rest better in bed,” you say, kissing her forehead as you guide her to the mattress.

You tuck her into bed, piling pillows behind her to keep her comfortable. She looks so small, so fragile, and it breaks your heart all over again. You climb in beside her, pulling her carefully into your arms.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I hate making you worry.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” you say, stroking her hair. “Just... let me hold you, okay? I need to feel you’re here.”

She shifts, pressing her weight into you, her head resting on your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers. “You’re stuck with me.”

You hold her tightly, the warmth of her body melting away the fear and tension that have gripped you all night. She’s here, safe in your arms, and you’ll never let her go.

To anon who requested it: I hope you enjoyed :)

[jaded-jezz]

Don’t Trip

Another Jack one-shot obvs

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

Jack Champion x F!Reader

☁︎Fluff

summary: Just Jack being a gentleman without realising.

I’ve been super excited to go to Jack’s movie premier ever since he auditioned. It wouldn’t be our first event as a couple but this time it seems as if the entire world knows about it as it’s no longer our secret.

When we posted our anniversary photo dump on Instagram and some sickeningly cute TikToks, our followers have risen dramatically and the response has luckily been way more positive than we expected. We didn’t realise that our fan base overlapped so of course they were all ecstatic when finding out their suspicions were correct.

Jack and I were in our taxi queueing for our joint entrance onto the carpet. Both our palms were sweating yet Jack gripped mine tighter when I tried to move to wipe it.

“Are you nervous Champion?” I jest

“Me? Pfff no way” he replied before widening his eyes to show he was lying, “I’m petrified”

We look into each others eyes and before we know it we are being told to leave and expose our long kept secret and safe privacy to the flashes of cameras.

He doesn’t let go of my hand once, in fear that he may lose me to the crowds of interviews trying to get the first interview of the new hot couple. It makes me smile to myself as although I’ve done many premiers before, he still keeps an eye on me.

We move to the line of photographers and I check for the marks on the floor directing each celebrity to the correct angle and lighting for their photos. Jack goes in first and I follow once he moves up the marks.

I have to pick up my dress due to the weight of the detailed beading, lace and tulle as I walk confidently to the first space. The awkwardness hits me as I try to kick around my dress to stop the train from bunching up so much as I want the cameras to pick up on my teams hard work.

Suddenly an angel from heaven, my knight in shining armour comes to the rescue.

I barely hear Jack’s voice over the shouts, flashes and the swelling of stress in my ears but it’s loud enough to start to bring me back to earth and to a calmer state.

I look down to see he has crouched to start to straighten out the long floral train. He glances up at me and gives me a wink as he feels me look over my shoulder at him.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” He laughs as he try’s to check my face for any signs of continuing worry.

I offer my hand and pull him round next to me so that we can have photos together. The paparazzi go even crazier, as if Jack’s previous action didn’t have a loud enough reaction.

We laugh at the eruption and a strong wave of serenity washes over me as I lean in closer to my boyfriend.

“You look so stunning that I had to help you, I hope you don’t mind,” Jack leant into the side of my head. “You are a saving grace Jack, and thank you” I whisper back.

I want to thank everyone who like/reblogged my first post, it means a lot. I did not expect any interaction at all so thank you!

My best friend helped me to check over this so if its bad, blame it on her plz and thx!

Requests are open, so send them no matter how big or small you idea is.

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

[imaginesheaven]

Bar owner!Reader x TF 141

Friendship headcanons

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst?

This literally turned almost into an Oneshot *haha* I couldn’t help myself ;D Enjoy~

Your bar “Tango Down” is known by almost every soldier and police officer. It is the ultimate spot to meet for drinks after a hard work day or mission. Since your bar has a very good reputation you are also known and well respected.

Of course, the Task Force 141 visits frequently when they are not away for a mission. “Hey, (Y/N)”, Price greets as he enters the bar firstly. To hear his voice once again brings a big smile on your lips, “Look who’s still alive! The usual, boys?” They give you all nods as they take their places on their usual table.

Years ago, when you first opened your bar Price was one of the first customers you had. Still to this day he is your favorite and most frequent one. After the Task Force 141 was built he brought them to this place, where you all grew extremely close with time. Even grumpy Ghost has a soft spot for you.

“Good to see you all. How you are doing?”, you put the drinks down on the table. A flash of fur whizzes between your legs right into the loving arms of Soap. “Bloody Jesus, Cougar! I wish this freaking dog would love me as much as he loves Soap”, you roll your eyes playfully annoyed as the soldiers cuddles your “scary” Belgian Malinois named Cougar.

“Sometimes I believe you are only here for Cougar”, Soap shrugs his shoulders grinning like he isn’t even sorry for stealing your dog away every single time he steps into the bar. “We brought you a present”, Gaz can’t contain his pure joy as he holds out the bottle of Whiskey. “Thank you so much! That goes directly into our cabinet for special events!”

Price started this tradition years ago when he started to visit your bar regularly. Every time he came back from a mission you got another expensive and exotic bottle of alcohol like Whiskey or Wine. John was and is still incredibly grateful to have you at his side after hard missions talking to him, pouring drinks and keeping his mind occupied with happy thoughts. The Task Force 141 keeps this tradition still going. Here and there when there is a reason to celebrate you pop open one of the bottles with them.

“Don’t worry, love, at least Ghost, Gaz and I are here for you”, Price puts his hand on your shoulder smirking as you take a seat with them. Soap is way too distracted to follow the conversation at all. He keeps playing with Cougar. The two of them have an own tradition. Soap gets Cougar after every mission a new toy to play with him.

It’s usually very calm and quiet in the bar due to the high number of soldiers and police officers. They can keep everything in order for you if you need it, but you are actually able to sort it out on your own. Just like this evening…

“What is going on here, Kick?”, you ask your bartender. He rolls his eyes annoyed, “Just a round of men making trouble. They keep talking trash about the soldiers.” You let out a whistle to call Cougar to you, “We take care of it.”

“Guys, your time is over here. I don’t tolerate little boys talking bullshit about real men”, you stand your ground against the five men. They might be taller than you, but it doesn’t intimidate you at all. They start to laugh, “How about no? What will you do?” Apparently, the leader of this little gang takes out a handgun from the back of his jeans.

Without flinching you grab his hand aiming the gun at the ceiling punching with the other against his throat. That leaves him choking for a few moments as you take the gun apart leaving it useless at the table. The guy doesn’t have enough yet trying to grab you. Quite painful you twist his arm as you push his face against the surface of the table. “Leave. Now”, as you let go of the men they bolt out of the bar scared for their dear life.

For a second the silence is deafening in the bar until the Task Force 141 starts cheering. They others follow suit very fast, but you wave them off with a red dust on your cheeks, “Stop it, please.” You store the gun behind the counter, “Drinks on me for everyone … BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP CHEERING!” Within a second everything is back to normal.

“Stop messing with my jukebox, Soap”, you have your back to the machine as you prepare the drinks, but you are sure he is already on his way to turn on a certain song. Soap loves messing with you and getting on your nerves playing one song over and over again until you lose your bloody mind.  

He looks at you with his puppy eyes, “Come on! It’s my absolute favorite song!” Smirking you roll your eyes and make your way towards the table with new drinks. “What did we just witness? You absolutely wrecked this guy”, Gaz stares at you in disbelief. “You were in military, right?”, Ghost recognizes a soldier when he sees one and you were for sure one. You let out a sigh, “Yeah, Special Forces for a few years.” Price raises his eyebrows surprised. “Don’t you dare to take a look at my file, John. That’s the past”, you wink at him grinning. Sometimes you could read him like an open book.

“Enjoy your drinks, boys!” The team shares a brief glance. Every time they are at your bar they learn something incredible new about you. It is like you are a never-ending pit of surprises. It makes them wonder what person you have been in the past. Especially John Price. He might have a look into your file nevertheless.

The night comes to an end. You keep sorting out the rest of the bar alone as the light goes out suddenly. The little hairs on your neck start to stand up and your senses tingle to warn you from the oncoming danger. Upstairs where you live above the bar you can hear Cougar barking. You already brought him up so he can rest. Now you realize your mistake. He would have protected you.

A hand grabs your neck from behind as the first punch lands. The fist collides with your stomach and the pain leaves you breathless. You can’t see their faces in the dark but you are more than sure that these are the troublemakers from earlier. They keep beating you. The pain is just overwhelming until the darkness takes over.

Captain Price enters the bar followed by his team. To his displeasure you are not behind the counter to greet them with your usual bright smile. “Kick, where is (Y/N)?”, Soap asks the bartender. They all feel that something is very off and they don’t like it at all. Even Cougar can’t be seen anywhere.

“(Y/N) is upstairs. Recovering. I’m not sure about company, but I guess you can try”, Kick knows it would be useless to tell them you don’t want to see anyone. They are going to make sure you are okay and no one will stop them. Price makes his way upstairs followed by the others.

They can hear Cougar barking at them coming up the stairs. “It’s okay, Cougar, it’s just the boys”, you say calmly to the dog as you pet his soft fur. Cougar greets them happily when they come through the door. Of course, the dog makes his way towards Soap to beg for some scratches. After a few head rubs Cougar is satisfied and comes back to your side placing his head onto your leg. You have never seen the dog that clingy, but he is ready to protect you with all he has.

John seems cool, collected and focused on the outside, but on the inside he is raging. Just like the others. Your face shows the last remnants of the beating. A black eye, a bloody, split lip and so on. They don’t even want to imagine what bruises your clothes are hiding. “It’s okay. It looks probably worse than it actually is”, you try to downplay the truth, but all of them can see it in your eyes. These troublemakers broke you a little bit and no one was there to protect you.

Ghost takes a step forward and grabs your chin softly to take a closer look at your face, “This is absolutely not okay. They made it personal.” Without a further word he let go of you giving Price a short nod. They know what they have to do.

“Wait! Please be careful. All of you”, you grab Price’s sleeve to keep them from leaving. There is no chance you can stop them at all. You just want them to come back to you safe and sound. John gives you a reassuring smile, “Of course, love.”

With that they went away to deal with the problem. None of the men told you what they did to the troublemakers and you never asked. They would literally give their life to keep you safe. After that everything just went back to normal.

“Johnny! No!”, you try to pry the beer bottle out of Soap’s hands as he reaches over the counter. “You have to be faster than that, sweetheart!”, he celebrates his achievement and takes a gulp from the beer. “No jukebox for you for a whole week! It’s like I’m dealing with children!”, you give up laughing. Price shrugs his shoulders, “Now you know how I feel.” You lean against the counter watching the boys. Gaz and Soap try to out beat each other in darts, while Ghost gives Cougar some head scratches hidden beneath the table. No one should see what a softie he turns into around you and Cougar.

This is literally perfection for all of you.

   Bonus

“Isn’t that the owner of your favorite bar?”, Laswell hands Price the file after he bugged him for weeks, “Are you sure that’s right?” John shrugs with one shoulder not really interested in getting a lecture, “Yes, just making sure who’s serving me drinks. I’ll take that with me.” He leaves Laswell’s office with the file under his arm. John is going to take his sweet time to read through your past.

Laswell leans back in her chair dialing your number, “He got your file, (Y/N).” She almost can hear you grinning through the phone, “Almost everything is classified so John won’t learn much about me. He just could have asked, you know? Thanks for letting me know, Kate. Greet your wife!”

[mynameismckenziemae]

I Love You Two

Part 2

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin.

Summary: Jake takes your mind off of things until Bradley shows up on your doorstep, drunk and spilling secrets.

Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! Smut, oral (m and f receiving), edging, sexy dreams, etc.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“So Admiral Kazansky is your uncle?” Jake asks as he follows you to your car. Penny had taken one look at your tear-stained face and let you go early. The rush was over anyway.

“Seriously?” You laugh through your tears, “After everything you just witnessed, that’s your first question?”

Jake shrugs. “Figured you’d fill me in on the rest when you’re ready.”

A fresh round of tears well at his understanding. “Yes, Ice is my uncle. You realize we have the same last name, right?”

“Well I do now,” he smiles sheepishly, “Can’t help that I’m preoccupied when we’re together.”

“Mmm,” you turn to him with a smile, “follow me back to my place?”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, kissing you and opening your car door.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Your tears continue to fall as you drive, the pain getting worse the further you get away from him. But as you get closer to home, you take a deep breath and dry your tears, refusing to let him ruin what you have with Jake.

There are 2 missed calls from Bradley and a few texts on your phone.

Nat: WTF happened? Bradley came back inside like a kicked puppy. He’s 3 shots deep already.

Penny: Love you kiddo. Everything will work out. It always does.

Bradley: I’m so sorry.

You ignore them all for now and silence it.

“Well, this is it,” you say as you drop your keys on the table by the door, “apartment sweet apartment.”

“It’s cute,” he says, pulling you to him, “just like you. Will you show me your bedroom? I’m dying to see it.”

“Right this way,” you smile, taking him by the hand.

“I missed this,” he murmurs as he kisses your neck, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you sigh, reaching behind you to palm his cock, “and this.”

“Yeah?” He grunts as you begin to rub your hand over him, “how much?”

“So much,” you reply, turning around in his arms, “I thought about it every time I touched myself,” he groans as you unbutton his shirt, before pushing it off his shoulders, “how you get so hard for me, how good you feel inside me, the taste of you on my tongue.”

“Fuck,” he breathes as you sink to your knees, mouthing him through the rough fabric of his uniform before pulling him out. His hands gently push into your hair as you give him a few teasing flicks with your tongue, he doesn’t rush you though; the feel of your roots in his fingers grounding him.

He’s always so controlled, never completely losing himself and you want, no, need to see it happen.

You watch from under your lashes as you gently suck on the head. His eyes roll back before closing, a soft “oh,” leaving his lips.

You tease him for a long time; keeping your rhythm irregular, alternating between shallow and deep bobs, and pulling off every time he gets close.

His hands tighten in your hair, but he still doesn’t guide your head in any way.

So restrained, so polite, so respectful. Whereas Bradley took what he wanted and encouraged you to do the same.

“Liv,” he gasps, beginning to sound desperate when you edge him yet again.

“Hmm?” You hum, trying to sound unaffected but your arousal is soaking through your underwear and into the denim.

“Darlin’,” he groans, hips pushing forward of their own accord, “You’re killing me.”

“What do you need?” You play dumb as you lazily stroke him, licking the beading precum.

“Please let me cum,” he breathes, head falling back on his shoulders when you start bobbing your head again, “please?”

A shiver runs down your spine and you moan around his cock. Your hands trail up the back of his thighs before your nails sink into the meat of his ass. His hips unexpectedly jerk at the bite of pain, gagging you slightly.

“S-sorry, fuck!” He gasps when you don’t let him pull out, instead digging your nails in and guiding his hips to do it again, to fuck your mouth. Tears start to fill your eyes as you bob faster.

“God, Liv,” he breathes, “I-I’m gonna…”

You give him a quick nod as you keep the same rhythm, moaning as the first rope of cum hits your tongue, swallowing your reward eagerly. His low groan sends a pulse of need to your clit.

He sways slightly when you release his spent cock from your mouth and you steady him with your hands, feeling the indents your nails left.

Once on your feet, he pulls you in for a kiss, and a rumble escapes him when he tastes himself on your lips. He walks you back to your bed before tossing you on it, tugging your shorts and underwear off together before he kneels.

Like a man starved, he devours you; no teasing, no build-up. Another debauched groan leaves him as he tastes you, fucking your pussy with his tongue as he nudges your clit with his nose. Your hands find his hair, gripping tightly when he pushes you over the edge in no time at all.

Unlike Jake, you have no qualms about taking what you want. “I wasn’t done,” he chuckles against your thigh where he’s pressing kisses when you guide his head back between your thighs after you come down with a whine, “just letting you breathe a second. I could do this all night.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a sigh as he laps up your release.

It’s not all night, but he stays between your thighs for over an hour, coaxing countless orgasms out of you until you’re a quivering, boneless mess.

“Come here,” your voice hoarse as you crook your finger, “need you inside me.”

He rises to his feet with a sexy smile, but before he can get his pants off there’s a loud banging from the front door, making you jump.

“What the hell?!” You look at your watch, “it’s after midnight.”

“Liv! Wake up, I gotta talk to you.”

It’s Bradley.

“I’m so sorry,” he says loudly through the door. Too loudly.

He’s drunk.

“Want me to take care of him?” Jake asks, pulling his pants back up, “I mean send him home. I’m not gonna punch him when he’s drunk,” he adds when you give him a look.

“No,” you sigh, letting him help you stand on shaky legs. Completely naked since your shirt and bra had come off at some point over the last hour, you quickly pull on your silk robe. “I’ll be right back.”

“Liv! C’mon,” Bradley starts pounding again.

“What-Jesus Bradley!” You catch him as you open the door that was apparently holding him upright.

“Sorry, sorry,” he slurs, catching most of his own weight.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, trying to look past him to the driveway, “How-Please don’t tell me you drove here.”

“I’m-no,” he shakes his head, “I’m stupid but not that stupid. Took an Uber.”

“Good,” you say as you get him standing again, “take another one back home.”

“I need to talk to you,” he says, brown eyes glassy as he looks at your barely-there robe, but he shakes his head to focus. “There’s…I have so much to tell you but I can’t go home without telling you I’m sorry for what I said tonight.”

“Okay,” you whisper, refusing to cry when your heart pinches at the way he made you feel; like a vindictive slut, “You said you were sorry. Now go home.”

“Just hear me out,” he pleads, voice growing thick, “I can’t stop thinking about you and how I fucked everything up by leaving the way I did. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t even fucking fly anymore!”

“Quit blaming Liv for being a shitty pilot,” Jake says haughtily from behind you, “because I can’t stop thinking about her either, and I’ve been flying better than ever.”

“Jake- “ you get cut off by Bradley.

“Of fucking course he’s here,” he seethes, stumbling backward.

“No! Don’t…” you tell him as his legs hit the couch, “sit down.”

He’s not leaving any time soon.

“Always around,” Bradley continues, “fucking everything up.”

“I didn’t fuck up anything,” Jake argues, “if you would get your head outta your ass, you’d probably fly a lot better. Might’ve been able to fix shit with Liv here but you waited too long. Didn’t take the shot.”

“But you did,” Bradley mumbles, “you took the shot and took my girl. My mom would be so disappointed in me.”

Jake snorts but you ignore it to ask, “What about Carole?”

“Told her how I felt about you after you stayed by me for spring break,” he sighs heavily, “she said I should tell you because she thought you felt the same. Said you looked at me the way she looked at my dad. Obviously, I didn’t because I…was scared. Then she got sick.”

“I was 19-Bradley that was 10 years ago,” you say, heart pounding.

“Yeah,” he yawns, “wonder where we’d be if I hadn’t fucked that up too.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick as you look at Jake, his expression unreadable.

“C’mon,” he holds out his hand, “let him sleep it off.”

You nod and place your hand in his as Bradlwy begins to snore.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Jake holds you in his arms as you fill him in on the rest; how’d you grown up together, the way you gave him your heart and he crushed it.

“So he was the one who broke your heart,” he murmurs, stroking your hair and not complaining about the way your tears are dripping onto his chest, “I could tell you’d been hurt when we met.”

“How?” You ask.

“You just looked so…sad. Sure you smiled, laughed here and there but it didn’t reach your eyes.”

You nod, suddenly exhausted from the emotional events of the day.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you drift off.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Bradley’s head is between your thighs, and he groans deeply as he eats you out like you’re his last meal. Confusion and guilt start to creep in but Jake’s there too, pushing his fingers into Bradley’s hair and guiding his head.

“Show her,” Jake murmurs as he begins to jerk himself off, “show her how sorry you are.”

Bradley’s answering grunt reverberates through you as he looks up at Jake with anger…and lust?

“C’mon, Bradshaw,” he husks, “or do I need to show how this is done too?”

“I know how she likes it,” Bradley answers into your pussy, making you moan.

“Let’s see then,” Jake replies, pushing his head into you more.

All of a sudden they’re both between your thighs, shouldering each other their mouths where you want them most.

“Fuck you,” Bradley growls as Jake gets there first.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” Jake stops his slow licks inside you to tease.

Bradley’s eyes dip to Jake’s lips and back up, sharing a scorching look before they both resume. Two tongues, twin groans, and too many fingers to count; pinching your nipples, pushing inside you, gripping your ass.

You’re on the brink when you look down to watch them feast on you. Lips and tongues working together to send you higher and higher and…

Your uninhibited cry echos off the walls of your bedroom as you wake to the mind-blowing pleasure washing over you. Jake’s eyes widen in surprise between your thighs before closing with a groan.

The slam of your front door pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze.

Fuck. Bradley.

“Seriously Jake?” you sigh, opening your eyes to him wiping his release from his hand with a tissue, “you knew he was here.”

“Yeah,” he admits, not sorry in the slightest, “but I didn’t know you’d be so loud. Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmurs, kissing your heated cheek, “just wasn’t expecting it, it was hot…too hot,” he flushes too as he nods to the balled-up tissues in his fist.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

Bradley’s back inside when you come out of the bedroom a few minutes later.

A fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the sight of him on your couch. His hair mussed like he was running his hands through it, cheeks ruddy, and sitting forward in an unnatural position.

“I-uh,” voice low and husky before he clears his throat, “I tried to get an Uber but my phone died. Can I use your charger?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grabbing it from your room and giving Jake a look before returning to living room.

He straightens when you get near, strategically placing a hand high up on his thigh over where his cock would be. When he won’t meet your eye as you hand him the charger confirms it.

He’s turned on.

“Don’t bother with the Uber, I’ll give you a ride after I shower,” you say, feeling his eyes on your ass as you walk away.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A/N: Big feelings in this one. Poor Bradley’s loved Liv for years. Jake’s so sweet to her and such an ass to Bradley 😂 I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did!

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

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[engeorged]

Harry's Stag Part Two

Part One here

I must have dozed off for a while. The exhaustion from the day’s indulgences, combined with the weight of my bloated belly, had finally caught up with me. I was jolted awake by the sound of laughter and the shuffling of footsteps. As I blinked groggily, I saw the guys bustling around the room, clearly preparing for the evening.

Jim was the first to notice me stirring. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty! Time to wake up and get ready for round two.”

I groaned and attempted to sit up, but my stomach protested, feeling heavier than ever. I fumbled for my jeans, which had somehow managed to fit earlier in the day but now seemed like a nearly impossible task. I struggled with the waistband, but no matter how hard I tugged, the button wouldn’t meet its counterpart.

Banning, always the one with a knack for planning, seemed to have anticipated this. He held up a pair of jeans that looked just a tad larger than mine, with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “Look what I’ve got here! Thought you might need a little extra room tonight.”

The guys burst into laughter as I took the jeans from Banning, still chuckling at the foresight. I shook my head, a smile creeping onto my face despite the discomfort. “You guys are unbelievable. Thanks for thinking ahead, I guess.”

I changed into the slightly larger jeans, which were much more comfortable now that my belly was so full. It was amazing how just a little extra room made a difference, and I felt some relief as the jeans fit over my swollen gut without the same kind of strain as before. The guys continued to laugh and joke, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

As I finished adjusting my clothes, Jim popped open a couple of cans of beer and handed one to me. “Here, mate. You need to chug a few of these to help numb that belly of yours. Trust me, it’ll help.”

I eyed the can warily but took it from him, already feeling the slight buzz from earlier in the day. As I took a long gulp, the cool liquid slid down my throat, and I could feel the effects of the alcohol starting to kick in. The guys cheered me on, making exaggerated gestures and shouting playful encouragement.

“Noel, you’ve got to see this,” Jim said, gesturing toward my bloated belly. “Harry’s got himself a full-on beach ball in there.”

Noel laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, and I think he’s about to make it even bigger.”

I took another swig of beer, trying to ignore the increasing pressure in my stomach. The alcohol was having the desired effect, dulling the edge of the fullness and making the discomfort slightly more bearable. The guys continued to poke fun and tease me, but their playful attitude made it easier to endure the tightness of my gut.

Once I’d managed to down a couple of beers, we gathered our things and prepared to head out. The evening was still young, and the guys were determined to make the most of it. As we left the hotel and headed toward the night’s next adventure, I couldn’t help but laugh along with them, despite the persistent ache in my belly. The day had been a whirlwind of eating and drinking, and while I was still reeling from the effects. We finally made our way out of the hotel and onto the bustling streets of Amsterdam, laughter and excitement bubbling among us. The plan was to hit a club and see where the night took us, but as we walked, a familiar golden arches sign caught Jim’s eye.

“Look at that,” Jim exclaimed, pointing across the street. “McDonald’s! We should check it out. I bet there are some unique Dutch menu items we’ve never seen before.”

Before I could protest, the guys had already made up their minds. “Come on, Harry,” Banning said, grinning. “It’ll be fun to see what’s different.”

I hesitated, feeling a mix of dread and resignation. My belly was still stretched tight from the massive amount of food I’d eaten earlier, and the thought of eating more was almost unbearable. But the guys were so enthusiastic that I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. We headed into the McDonald’s, the smell of fries and burgers only amplifying my discomfort.

Inside, we quickly ordered a mix of Dutch specials and regular fare. The food started arriving, and as I picked at the offerings, it quickly became clear that eating more was going to be a challenge. My stomach was protesting with every bite, the fullness now a heavy, persistent ache. Despite my efforts, I struggled to keep up with the pace the guys were setting, who were practically shoving fries and burgers into my hands.

As I tried to push through, I noticed that the guys were exchanging cryptic glances and whispered conversations. Their behaviour was becoming increasingly conspicuous, and I began to feel uneasy. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice tinged with frustration. “Are you guys up to something?”

Jim merely gave me a noncommittal smile, and Banning’s expression was unreadable as he continued to shove food in my direction. “You’re doing great, Harry. Just a little more, and then we’ll head out.”

As I struggled with the last few bites, feeling like I might burst from the effort, Noel suddenly stood up. “Alright, that’s enough McDonald’s for now. Let’s get going. We’ve got another place to hit.”

I was relieved to leave the burger place, but my relief was short-lived. The guys led me through the streets again, this time toward a place I hadn’t expected—a marijuana café. I eyed the entrance with a mix of suspicion and resignation.

“Seriously? You guys know weed just makes me dopey. I don’t think this is a good idea,” I protested, trying to muster some energy despite my discomfort.

Banning and Jim exchanged one of their knowing looks, a smile tugging at their lips. “Oh, come on, Harry,” Banning said with a grin. “You know it actually works. You always get the munchies.”

Jim nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Exactly. It’ll help with that full feeling and make the experience a bit more fun.”

Before I could argue further, they had already ushered me inside and handed me a massive brownie. It was so large it could have been mistaken for a cake slice, thick and dense with chunks of chocolate. I eyed it warily, feeling the weight of the day’s indulgences pressing heavily on my already stuffed stomach.

“Go on,” Noel encouraged. “Give it a try. It’s supposed to be amazing here.”

With a resigned sigh, I took a bite. The rich, fudgy brownie was delicious, and I hate to say that I ate it pretty quickly. It took a good half hour to kick in but as the brownie worked its way through my system, I could feel myself beginning to sink into that familiar, hazy state. My discomfort was still there, but the marijuana started to blur the edges, making it feel a little more manageable.

The initial dopey haze quickly shifted as my stomach, already stretched to its limit, suddenly craved more. The munchies hit me with a surprising intensity. I found myself eyeing the café’s menu with an almost ravenous interest, craving everything in sight.

“See? I told you,” Banning said, smirking as he noticed the shift in my appetite. “What did I tell you?”

Jim clapped me on the back with a laugh. “Looks like you’ve got room for a bit more after all.”

Before I could fully grasp the change, they were already ushering me out of the café and down to the canal. We found ourselves at a charming canal-side restaurant, its outdoor seating lined with twinkling lights and the gentle lapping of water nearby. The menu was full of tempting dishes, and the guys wasted no time in ordering a variety of appetisers and main courses, eager to keep the food coming.

It started with appetisers—bread baskets, bowls of soup, platters of charcuterie. The moment the first plate hit the table, I was on it, stuffing my face like I hadn’t eaten in days. The food tasted incredible, and I couldn’t get enough. I tore into the bread, dipped it into olive oil, and devoured slices of prosciutto and cheese. Every bite was a burst of flavour that seemed to intensify the more I ate.

Then came the main courses—steaks, pasta, grilled vegetables, roasted chicken. They just kept coming. Plate after plate, the food piled up in front of me, and I didn’t hesitate to dig in. My belly, already stretched and swollen from the beer, started to grow even more. With every bite, it felt like my stomach expanded, pushing against my shirt until it rode up, exposing the taut skin underneath.

The guys were having a blast, cheering me on as I ate. They kept passing me more food, laughing and making jokes, and I was too stoned to care about how much I was consuming. Every time I thought I was done, they’d order another dish, and somehow, I found room for it. The sensation of my belly swelling larger and larger was surreal. It was like I could feel it expanding with each bite, my skin tightening as it stretched to accommodate the growing mass inside.

I glanced down at one point, and it hit me how massive my stomach had become. It was no longer just bloated—it was huge, a round, firm dome that jutted out far beyond what I thought was possible. I looked like I had swallowed a basketball. But instead of freaking out, I found it hilarious. The sight of my enormous belly, paired with the way it kept growing, had me and the guys in stitches.

By the time dessert rolled around—massive slices of cake, ice cream, and pastries—I was barely able to move. My stomach was so tight and full that every breath felt like a stretch, but I couldn’t stop. I kept eating, laughing through the discomfort, enjoying every ridiculous moment of it. The guys were relentless, making sure I had something in front of me at all times, and I was too far gone to resist.

When we finally left the restaurant, my belly was so swollen that I had to lean back slightly as I walked, the weight of it throwing off my balance. I could barely think straight, the mix of food, beer, and weed making everything a hazy, hilarious blur. The guys were still cracking jokes, poking fun at how enormous my stomach had gotten, and I couldn’t stop laughing along with them. I was laughing along with the guys, but deep down, I was starting to feel the pressure of everything I’d consumed.

About halfway back to the hotel, I realised I desperately needed to take a piss. I could feel the pressure building, and there was no way I was going to make it all the way back without stopping. I told the guys, and they pointed me toward a nearby alley, joking about how I might flood the place.

I stumbled over to a corner, barely able to keep my balance with the massive, bloated dome of my stomach jutting out in front of me. When I unzipped my pants, I quickly realised just how much my belly had grown—so much that I couldn’t even see my own junk anymore. My gut was so round and distended that it completely blocked my view. I had to fumble around by touch alone, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

Finally, I managed to get a grip, and when I let loose, it was like a dam had burst. The stream was powerful and seemed to go on forever, the relief almost as overwhelming as the pressure had been. I leaned against the wall for support, my head spinning slightly from the combination of the weed, alcohol, and sheer absurdity of the situation.

As the last of it trickled out, I zipped up, chuckling to myself. My belly was still a massive, heavy sphere, pushing against my waistband and making it hard to move, but at least I wasn’t about to burst anymore. The guys were still waiting, and as I waddled back over to them, they couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous I looked, and neither could I.

By the time we made it back to the hotel, I was feeling a little less pressured after that massive piss, but my stomach was still ridiculously bloated, swollen into a tight, heavy sphere that felt like it was carrying half of Amsterdam inside it. I could barely walk straight, and the guys kept cracking jokes about how I looked ready to pop.

I thought we were done for the night, but Noel had other plans. As we passed by a pizza place on the way to the hotel, he suggested we grab some food "for later." I wasn’t really hungry—hell, I was stuffed beyond belief—but I was still stoned and buzzed enough to shrug and go along with it. So, we ended up ordering a ridiculous amount of pizzas—more than any of us could possibly eat on a normal night, let alone after the feast we’d just had.

Back at the hotel, we piled into the room, the boxes of pizza filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma. I collapsed onto the bed, my bloated belly making it hard to find a comfortable position. I was about to tell the guys that I couldn’t eat another bite, but they had other ideas. Jim tossed a pizza box onto the bed next to me and opened it, revealing a perfectly cooked, cheesy, greasy pie.

“C’mon, Harry,” Jim said with a grin, his tone both teasing and encouraging. “You’re not going to let a little food beat you, are you?”

“Yeah, you’ve still got some room in there,” Banning chimed in, patting the side of my swollen belly. “We’re just getting started.”

I tried to laugh it off, but before I could protest, Noel grabbed a slice and shoved it toward my mouth. “Open wide, mate,” he said, still laughing, but there was a glint in his eye that made it clear they weren’t messing around.

Still dazed from the weed and alcohol, I opened my mouth, and Noel pushed the slice in. I chewed automatically, the taste of melted cheese and tangy tomato sauce filling my mouth. It was good—really good, actually—and I found myself swallowing it down before I even realised what I was doing.

Before I could say anything, another slice was ready and waiting. This time, Jim was the one holding it, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He shoved the slice into my mouth, and I started eating again, feeling the food settle heavily on top of everything else in my gut.

They kept going, passing slices between them, each one urging me to eat more, faster. It quickly escalated from playful encouragement to full-on shovelling. They’d grab slices two at a time, practically stuffing them into my mouth before I even had a chance to swallow the last bite. I was too stoned to resist, too drunk to care, and too far gone to do anything but laugh along with them, even as my stomach started to protest.

With every bite, I could feel my belly expanding even more. It was already tight, but now it was becoming painfully taut, the skin stretching impossibly further to accommodate the endless stream of pizza. I was bloated beyond anything I’d ever experienced, my stomach distended to the point where it felt like I could burst at any moment. But the guys didn’t stop—they kept pushing more food into me, and I kept eating, my laughter mixed with groans as I struggled to keep up.

The more I ate, the more ridiculous the whole situation became. My stomach was so swollen that it looked almost comical, a massive, rounded dome that dominated my torso, making me look like I was ready to give birth to a food baby the size of a beach ball. And the guys were loving it, laughing and cheering as they watched my belly swell even further with each slice.

I lost track of time as they fed me slice after slice, my senses dulled by the haze of intoxication. All I knew was that my stomach was now beyond full—beyond bloated—it was an enormous, heavy, rock-hard ball that had taken over my entire body. I was so stuffed that I could barely breathe, the tightness in my gut making every movement an effort. But despite the discomfort, the absurdity of it all was too funny to ignore. I could barely stop laughing, even as they shoved the last few slices down my throat.

As the last few slices of pizza disappeared into my mouth, I finally collapsed back onto the bed, completely overwhelmed. My belly was a colossal, swollen sphere, so distended that it looked almost alien on my frame. The weight of it pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe, and I could feel every bite, every gulp, churning inside me like a storm. I lay there, panting, trying to process what had just happened.

My mind was a foggy mess, dulled by the weed and alcohol, but as I lay there, something started to gnaw at the edges of my thoughts. I began to piece together the events of the day—the massive breakfast, the endless beers, the feast at the restaurant, and now, this late-night pizza binge. It all added up to an insane amount of food, far more than I would normally eat in an entire week, let alone a single day.

A thought flickered in my mind, barely noticeable at first, but then growing stronger: something was up. This wasn't just a casual lads' weekend or a fun, spontaneous night out. The way the guys had been egging me on, pushing more and more food into me, it all felt a bit too...planned. I tried to sit up, the massive weight of my belly making it difficult, but before I could say anything, Jim, Noel, and Banning exchanged a quick look, and suddenly, they were on top of me.

Before I could react, they had pinned me down, each of them grabbing an arm or a leg. I was too stuffed and too sluggish to fight back, and honestly, too out of it to want to. I tried to laugh it off, but there was a flicker of panic in my voice as I asked, "What the hell are you guys doing?"

Jim, with that mischievous grin of his, pulled out something from behind his back—a massive beer bong. My eyes widened in shock and confusion as the realisation of what was about to happen hit me. 

"Oh, come on, guys," I groaned, but it was too late. They were all laughing, enjoying the moment way too much to stop now.

They propped me up slightly, my bloated belly wobbling as I shifted. Jim positioned the tube over my mouth, and before I could protest further, he pushed it down my throat and started pouring a big tub of melted ice cream into it. The cold, creamy liquid rushed down my throat, and I had no choice but to swallow as quickly as I could, the pressure in my already overstuffed belly intensifying with every gulp.

I could feel my stomach stretching even further, the already taut skin straining to contain the deluge. My belly, which had seemed impossibly huge before, swelled even more as the ice cream filled every last bit of space inside me. As the ice cream finished, they began pouring beers in there as well. The mixture of the ice cream and the frothy beer was intense.The sensation was overwhelming—my gut felt like it was going to explode, the tightness almost unbearable, yet I was too drunk, too stoned, and too out of it to do anything but go along with it.

The guys were in hysterics, cheering me on, shouting encouragement as they poured more and more down the funnel. My mind was spinning, the absurdity of the situation mixed with the physical reality of my massively distended belly. I could barely think straight, the combination of everything I'd eaten and drunk creating a pressure cooker inside me.

I glanced down at my stomach, and what I saw almost didn't seem real. My belly was huge, tight and shiny, jutting out far beyond what I thought was physically possible. It was so large now that I couldn't even see my legs, just this massive, swollen ball that had taken over my entire body.

The guys finally stopped, pulling the funnel away as I gasped for breath, my chest heaving against the immovable bulk of my belly. I was stuffed beyond comprehension, my stomach a grotesque, comically large sphere that defied belief. Yet, despite the discomfort, I couldn't help but laugh along with them, the sheer ridiculousness of it all hitting me like a wave.

They let me go, stepping back to admire their handiwork, and I collapsed back onto the bed, my enormous belly towering over me like a mountain. The pressure was intense, but as I lay there, I couldn’t deny the strange sense of satisfaction that came with it. Even though I knew something was up, I was too far gone to care.

I tried to shift slightly, but any motion only seemed to exacerbate the pressure. I could feel the beer churning in my bloated stomach, and the sensation of it bubbling up made me uneasy. Then, out of nowhere, a massive burp escaped me, loud and forceful. The sound reverberated around the room, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

The guys erupted into cheers and laughter, their eyes lighting up with delight. “That’s it, Harry!” Noel whooped, clapping me on the shoulder, which made my already tight stomach feel even more cramped. “That’s what we wanted to hear!”

Another burp came, even more thunderous than the first, and the guys’ excitement only grew. Jim slapped me on the back, his grin wide. “You’ve outdone yourself, mate. This is legendary!”

Each belch seemed to amplify their enjoyment, and despite my discomfort, I found myself laughing along. The room was filled with the sounds of my beery burps and their cheering, creating a bizarre but oddly joyous atmosphere. As I lay there, my belly pressing heavily against the bed, it was hard not to feel a bit of pride mixed with the discomfort. The guys were clearly thrilled with the result, and their enthusiasm made it all seem worthwhile, even if my stomach felt like it might burst.

I lay there, my massively swollen belly rising like a dome over me, panting from the effort of swallowing down all that ice cream and beer. My gut was so tight it felt like it might split open at any moment, the pressure inside almost unbearable. I tried to catch my breath, my mind still reeling from the absurdity of it all.

As I struggled to process what had just happened, the guys started to calm down, their laughter fading into chuckles. Jim was the first to speak, leaning against the bedpost with a mischievous grin still plastered on his face.

"Alright, Harry," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "I guess it's time we come clean."

I looked up at him, confused and still half in a daze. "Come clean about what?" I asked, my voice slightly strained from the sheer fullness in my gut.

Banning exchanged a glance with Noel, who shrugged and smirked. "Well," Banning began, "this whole weekend...it wasn’t just about showing you a good time before the wedding. We’ve been, uh, keeping a bit of a game going on the side."

"A game?" I echoed, the realisation slowly dawning on me.

Noel chimed in, grinning wider. "Yeah, mate. We’ve been taking bets on who could get you to eat the most food."

I blinked in disbelief, my overstuffed belly suddenly making a lot more sense. "You’ve been betting on me? On how much you could stuff me?"

"Pretty much," Jim admitted, not looking the least bit guilty. "Ever since college, you’ve been the champ at eating challenges. We thought, what better way to celebrate your last weekend of freedom than to push you to your absolute limit?"

I stared at them, trying to wrap my head around it. My mind flashed back to all the meals today—the endless breakfast, the brewery tour, the ridiculous feast at the restaurant, the pizzas—and realised they’d been orchestrating the whole thing. It wasn’t just a coincidence that I’d ended up eating so much.

"Are you serious?" I asked, half-shocked, half-amused.

Banning nodded, looking at my distended stomach with a grin. "Dead serious. And I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been pretty successful."

I couldn’t help but laugh, even as my belly groaned under the pressure. "You guys are insane," I said, shaking my head. "I can’t believe you did this."

"But you’re not mad, right?" Noel asked, a bit of teasing in his tone. "You gotta admit, it’s been one hell of a weekend."

I looked down at my massively bloated stomach, then back at them. Despite the discomfort, I found myself grinning. They were right—it had been a ridiculous, over-the-top, and unforgettable experience. And honestly, the absurdity of it all was kind of hilarious.

"Nah, I’m not mad," I said, still chuckling. "I mean, how could I be? You guys planned this whole thing just to see how much I could eat. It’s kind of flattering in a weird way."

Jim laughed, patting my bloated belly. "We knew you’d see it that way. You’re always up for a challenge."

I shook my head, still in disbelief. "Well, congratulations, guys. I think you’ve officially turned me into a human food balloon."

As the laughter and cheers subsided, I lay there, utterly spent and still feeling the aftereffects of the beer funnel incident. My belly was so distended it felt like a drum, and every slight movement or shift was a reminder of just how much I’d been stuffed.

“Alright, alright,” I said, attempting to catch my breath amid the ongoing burps. “Who actually won this little competition? I need to know who managed to outfeed me.”

The guys exchanged glances, clearly enjoying the moment. Banning picked up his phone and started scrolling through a series of photos they’d taken earlier in the day, probably to document the ‘progress.’ Jim, sitting back with a satisfied grin, was the only one not actively engaged in the discussion.

“Well,” Banning said, after a moment of scrutiny, “it looks like Jim here has the lead. We kept track of how much each of us managed to shove in you, and Jim’s the one who really went for it.”

Jim beamed, clearly pleased with the result. “I had a feeling I was in the running. Must say, I’m pretty proud of my efforts.”

Noel chuckled, nudging Jim playfully. “You were relentless, mate. I think we all knew you had the edge.”

I let out a contented sigh, the pressure in my belly making me wince slightly. “Well, fair play to you, Jim. You’ve earned it. And I have to admit, this has been one hell of a stag do.”

The guys gathered around, still buzzing with energy from the day’s events. Despite the discomfort, I couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie and fun we’d had. It was clear that Jim had taken the crown, but in the end, it was the shared laughter and the ridiculousness of the whole experience that made it memorable.

As I lay back on the bed, my stomach had reached a point that was almost hard to believe. It was now an enormous, round, and tightly stretched sphere, jutting out from my torso like a massive, inflated beach ball. My once-flat belly had expanded to such a degree that it almost seemed to defy the laws of nature. The skin was stretched so tight that it looked shiny and smooth, with veins faintly visible beneath the surface. Every movement was a struggle, and the sheer weight of it made me feel like I was carrying a heavy burden.

The guys stood around me, clearly thrilled by what they had managed to achieve. Their laughter filled the room as they took in the sight of my overly stuffed, swollen gut. Jim couldn’t resist and gave my belly a playful, yet firm slap. The impact made me let out a loud belch, the sound echoing through the room.

Noel joined in, giving my belly a gentle pat, then a light poke, which caused me to belch again. “Seriously, mate, that gut is fucking insane”

I managed a tired chuckle, my hand resting on the massive dome of my belly. It felt like the pressure inside me was never-ending, every breath a struggle against the tightness of my gut.

As the excitement over Jim’s victory settled down, the guys began to show off their own swollen bellies, each one proudly displaying the effects of the day’s indulgences. Jim, with his winning grin, lifted his shirt to reveal his round, hairy belly. His thick, dark hair was matted down, spreading out over his expanded midsection. It was noticeably full but still had a firmness to it. He patted his belly with a laugh, clearly enjoying the moment. “No way I’m the only one feeling the aftermath,” Jim said. “I’ve been eating like mad just to keep the charade up.”

Banning followed suit, lifting his shirt to reveal a slightly flabbier stomach. His belly was rounded and covered in a light layer of fuzz, giving him a softer appearance. He rubbed it with a playful grimace. “I didn’t realise it would get this intense,” he admitted. “Keeping up with the feeding has been a challenge.”

Noel, stocky and also hairy, was sporting a noticeable bulge. His shorter frame made his stomach look even more pronounced, with a sprinkling of light hair across his rounded belly. “Mate, I thought I’d burst a few times today,” he complained, though his tone was more amused than anything else. “Keeping you stuffed was no small feat.”

I glanced at their bellies, each one testament to the sheer volume of food and drink we’d consumed. Jim’s hairy expanse, Banning’s soft, flabby midsection, and Noel’s round, fuzzy belly were all proof of the day’s overindulgence. Despite their complaints, the camaraderie was evident. They each took turns joking about the day’s events, comparing how their stomachs had swelled and the discomfort that came with it.

“Guess we all played our part,” I said, chuckling as I looked at their bellies. “But I’ve got to hand it to you guys, you really went all out.”

Jim took a step back, wiping tears from his eyes as he looked at the scene before him. “Alright, champ, you’ve outdone yourself. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

I glanced at him, confused and exhausted. “What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow,” Jim said with a grin, “we’re going to find out who can make you eat the most. We’ve still got a whole day left, and we’re planning to push you even further.”

I stared at him, the realisation hitting me that the challenge was far from over. Despite the discomfort and the overwhelming fullness, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and dread at the thought of more eating ahead.

“Better get some sleep,” Banning said, clapping me on the shoulder. “We’ve got big plans for tomorrow.”

The guys finally let me be, their laughter and playful banter continuing as they prepared to settle in for the night. I lay there, my massive belly rising and falling with each heavy breath, feeling a strange mix of pride and disbelief at what I had just accomplished. 

As I closed my eyes, the sensation of my distended stomach pressing against me was both painful and oddly satisfying. The thought of what the next day might bring lingered in my mind, and despite my exhaustion, I found myself eager to see just how far they would take the challenge. For now, though, I had to focus on trying to get some rest before whatever came next.

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[sp0o0kylights]

Steve And Robin Are Stuck in A Timeloop AU 

Steve's lost track of which time loop this is.

Had lost track pretty much instantly, because it turns out when people die repeatedly in front of you, it kinda takes precedence in your memory. 

Besides, Robin has a list in her head, memorized via some kind of musical code, alongside all the dates and times they wake up in. 

(Steve doesn't see what difference it makes if they wake up at 7:15 am the day of the Championship or 8:25 am, but Robin's insistent that even the slightest variations could mean something.) 

He’ll have to ask his soulmate when he finds her though, because presently Steve has determined they're having one of their weirder loops.

Typically, when the two of them get kicked back in time, they wake up the day of the Championship game. Occasionally it will be the day right before or the day after, but sometimes? 

Sometimes they’re sent back someplace, some time, that isn’t related to 1986 at all. 

Thus far, the Starcourt loop had been the worst. 

("If it happens a third time I'm killing myself." Steve had told Robin after they’d failed that one. 

Robin didn’t even look at him, the two of them huddled up together in Steve’s bed. "No you're not Dingus, not without shooting me first."

"How come I have to shoot you!? Is it because I'm a man? That's not very feminist of you."

"No its because you've seen me shoot, I would miss!") 

Steve had even woken up in an odd place. Not his bed or the couch, but the driver's seat of the Beamer, seated in the high school parking lot.  

It made him immediately uneasy. 

The chair is reclined all the way back, the mass of cars indicating it was a school day. Steve struggled to recall when he's ever taken a nap in his car as he got out of it, trying to decide how he wanted to go about things. 

Felt his pocket and was surprised to find it full of a packet of smokes. 

The sheer implication of that had him pulling out a cig and lighting it before the knowledge that he'd officially quit buying his own cigarettes in 1985 sank in.

Panicked and chainsmokes three, before deciding his best course of action was his usual one. 

Find Robin. 

Which of course means that he found Eddie instead. 

xxx

He’d started his first lap, walking out if the parking lot and round to the more shaded, empty parts of the building when a voice he knew yelled. 

The kind of yell he’d grown intimately familiar with, the one Eddie used when he was terrified and using anger to hide it. 

Steve turns automatically, following the taunts and loud, pained breathing until he finds a handful of jocks encircling the metalhead. He's down on one knee, snarling like a wildcat caught in a trap while some guy Steve barely recognizes holds him by the hair, laughing. 

Red coats his vision instantly, and any thoughts Steve had about being stuck in time (sort of) vanish from his mind entirely. 

The world shrinks down, to that white knuckled grip on Eddie's hair, the way it’s pulling the older boy’s face up so that Steve can see the straining muscles in his throat. 

The protective creature that lives in his chest and likes to punch it’s way out of problems awakens, and a thrum goes through Steve as he feels its demand for blood. 

"Hey fellas " Steve calls joyfully, striding directly into the crowd. "What’re we doing?" 

Two part before him like fish seeing a shark,and a faraway inner voice identifies them as members of the swim team. 

Which likely meant the other two were football players, and for all the tackling they did they were surprisingly easy to scare, if you knew how to play it right. 

Steve absolutely knew how to play it right. 

"Fuck off Harrington. This isn't your business." The one holding Eddie's hair spits. 

"Well that would be where you're wrong." Steve was still keeping things conversational as he positioned himself, arms nice and loose at his sides. He lets the thing that lives inside him, who made him turn right back around all those years ago and charge back into the Byers house, out a little more. Feels the need to protect, to save, to destroy the things that are his, fuel him.  "Seeing as all of Eddie's business is my business."

Eddie stares up at him, wide eyed at the declaration. 

Feeling entirely out of control of his body, Steve sends him a wink. 

"Since when!?" The other football player asks. 

"Since now." Steve declares cheerfully--and then smiles. 

It isn’t a nice smile. 

Thoroughly unnerved, his swim team members shrink back. He’ll have words for them later if he has time--Steve can't ever recall the swim team members being dicks but who fucking knows. 

His memory wasn't the best before he and Robin got stuck in time. 

"You fucking into drugs now or wha--" Their ringleader, still holding onto Eddie by the hair, doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Mostly because his mouth is too busy catching Steve's fist. 

Fighting, he knows, is something he does best when it's too the death and he's armed with something. 

Bonus points if his opponent is a horrific monster from another dimension. 

He has gotten better though, and here the rapid pace he sets feels almost too easy. 

The first guy goes down on the ground before the rest pick up on it, giving Eddie time to lurch backwards as Steve turns and torpedoes into the next jock. 

This one gets in a good shot--Steve staggers with a blow to his side but it's not enough to wind him. He keeps to his feet and advances, delivering one more punch before the swim team guys are trying to call him off. 

"Come on man, you're gonna kill them!" 

Steve almost laughs-- he hasn't come close to killing either idiot-- but backs away, keeping himself between them and Eddie. 

They wave their hands, getting ahold of their bloodied friends as they slowly ease between them and Steve. Make apologizes and promises that it was a poor joke, Munson just got to them, hot heads you know? 

Steve snarls at them to fuck off, and glares until they're gone. 

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks him, and Steve turns to find him on his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the school. 

As far as he can get away from Steve. 

"Our football quarterback can't hit for shit." Steve informs him, having finally placed an least one of the guys. "It's probably why we always lose." 

Eddie gives him such a freaked out face it almost makes him laugh a second time.

The effect isn't helped by the fact that Eddie's normally long mane is hovering just over his shoulders, the curls somehow poofier than normal. Clearly he’s still trying to grow it out, but it just makes him look like one of those frazzled dogs. 

Adorable. 

On instinct Steve reaches out to playfully pull a few strands, then freezes when Eddie flinches from him. 

"Sorry." He keeps his hands up, as he takes in Munson's face. "Shit dude, he got your nose good." 

There's blood smeared under it, and given the look of the skin surrounding it? 

Eddie's gonna have an impressive bruise soon enough. 

Steve gets a glare sent his way. "Why do you care?" Eddie spits, back very much still up, and-- right. 

Right. 

Time travel. 

"I'm really bad at explaining it." Steve warns, running a hand through his hair. He did this part plenty without Robin (meeting Eddie that was--Robs usually tackled Nancy.) But he also typically did in it 1986, and with at least three of the kids, not whenever they currently were. 

"We usually start with facts only you'd know, but I don't actually know when I am right now." He finishes, and realizes immediately that it doesn’t make a lick of sense. 

"When you are?" Eddie asks, because of course he clocks that part immediately. 

"Ye--eah." Steve says, dragging out the word. 

He looks at Eddie desperately, like the metalhead will tell him the exact information he needs. 

Eddie just stares back. 

"Look, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Steve says finally, because fuck, it does!

"Comparable to all the other times you talk out loud?" Eddie snips, voice full of venom. 

"Shut up.” Steve replies automatically, but his tone holds no heat. He’s too used to trading banter with Eddie that is friendly.  “I'm gonna preface this by saying I can prove it."

"Oh wow preface. Such a big word for you! Did Nancy Wheeler teach you that one?"

"Robin actually." Then, "Nancy?"

The look Eddie gives him could melt steel beams. "Yeah man. Nancy Wheeler. Your girlfriend." 

"Oh--oh god." Steve says, because that means they're way back. Possibly to the beginning. 

Or worse, before he and Nancy had broken up.

"I can’t handle that breakup a second time." He says wide eyed, the panic gripping him for a second. “I could-no, no I could get Robin to tell her!” 

Because that sure would work. 

Steve can just imagine it now. Robin, sauntering up to Nancy and going ‘Hey, we really haven’t met yet but you’re gonna dump Steve, if you haven’t already and to cut through all the drama, I’m here to just tell you on his behalf that it’s over. What was that? A coward? Why yes, he is one!’

You know, provided she didn’t just laugh in his face and then cuff him over the head when she realized he was being serious. 

“Dude.” Eddie says, sinking a world’s worth of judgment into the single syllable. 

“Yeah, you’re right, bad call.” Steve says, and whatever Eddie was expecting it clearly wasn’t that. 

“Are you on drugs right now?” Eddie finally asks when Steve reverts back to looking to him as if he’s going to help. A bad habit, and one Steve knows he needs to stop doing. 

Even if Eddie, in the original timeline and every one after they got him on board, eventually becomes someone Steve can rely on like that. 

“You can tell me if you are, man, you know I won’t judge.” The hateful air around him is fading into something more confused, and then into something else entirely. The persona Eddie pulls when he’s hurt and trying to hide it with jokes and rants. “Unless you and your buddies bought from someone that wasn’t me, in which case I get exclusive rights to judge.” 

He’s shifting as he finally stands up off the wall, and Steve doesn’t miss how he hugs one hand to a rib. 

Shit. 

He needs to get Eddie up to speed and he needs to do it fast.

Steve sighs and just starts listing Eddie Munson Facts like an unprepared kid who was called on in class. 

"Okay, so your uncle collects mugs, right? And--fuck I don't know when you get all the tattoos,” Steve makes a vague gesture around his chest, “but you have bats on your arm and you gave them all names." 

Eddie's eyes pop wide again, jaw slacking as Steve volleys off a few more Munson Facts. 

"You have this weird fear about red ribbon necklaces because of a book you read in third grade, your first guitar has this giant ugly--sorry dude, but you cannot write legibly to save your life, 'This machine slays dragons' quote across it and--oh!"

 He was so fucking stupid. The answer was literally staring at him in the face, dangling around Eddie's neck. 

Steve snapped his fingers excitedly. "The guitar pick on your neck is your moms!"

Eddie’s mouth open and closes like a fish, long enough that the smile slowly slides off of Steve’s face.  

"How the fuck do you know all that?" He manages after a long, tortuous moment, looking like he’d been sucker punched. 

Again. 

With the most pained look his face can manage, Steve finally answers. "Time travel."

Eddie blinks.

Then blinks again. 

 "Time travel." He echoes faintly. 

"Yeah. I'm from 1986, where things kinda got really fucked up."

"No kidding?" Eddie says, right before he erupts into giggles. 

"Did they get you in the head?" Steve asks, abruptly concerned, as Eddie collapses back against the wall in a growing fit of laughter.  

Concussed Eddie was not a road he wanted to go down but Steve knew better than anyone what happens if you ignore such things. 

"I think my weed just hit." Eddie explains as he wipes away a tear, and Steve wants to shake him, but knows it won't get him anywhere. 

"That's great. That's just great."  He grumbles, hands going onto his hips. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get you a bandage. And then find Robin.” 

Robin, Steve decided, could handle a high, concussed Eddie.

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again, part three

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: on the series masterlist! I'm keeping them there this time if you'd like to avoid potential spoilers :)

a/n: thank you so so much to @whisperingmidnights for beta'ing this for me <3

series masterlist

It was over. The war had finished, but everything felt … heavy. As soon as you were no longer needed, you’d gone right home. Guilt still crept in every time you thought of home, of the island. Not Velaris, not any longer. Although you visited, although your family asked you to move back each time, you weren’t ready. 

Fifty years of conditioning to pain each time you thought of the city hadn’t worn off yet. Maybe it never would, but for now all you wanted was the comfort of sea wind, your own bed, and a warm supper. 

-

He’d told himself months ago that maybe seeing you just once, would be enough, and it was. His shadows hissed in his ear at the blatant lie he tried to convince himself of and, as usual, they were right. You were a drug he couldn’t kick. Didn’t want to. 

When he saw you, walking through Velaris that day, he had to take his chance. If he could get just one night, perhaps he could make it memorable enough you’d want a repeat. That or to leave it as a cherished memory. He checked the barrier around his mind. If his brother heard that, he’d tease him relentlessly. 

But he needed to get a night with you first. With your scheming younger sister it wasn’t too difficult. She was already one of his informants, and knew vaguely of your history. One day, when it wouldn’t give them away so obviously, he’d make sure to tell you just how much your sister did love you. 

-

“We miss you in Velaris,” your sister pouted. She’d come out to visit you on the island and was scanning everything with a keen eye, noting every detail, “but I can see why you won’t come back,” she admitted. 

Did she know about Azriel?

Wait - why did you think of him? 

“-It’s so beautiful here,” she was still speaking. 

You hummed in agreement, but your mind was now lost to that impulsive thought now lingering in your mind. No, Azriel was not the only reason you were staying away from Velaris. Even though you may have run into each other during your last visit. Even if the dinner you had together was a pleasant encounter. Even if what followed that dinner and copious amounts of alcohol from both of you still set you blushing. 

Fully grown adults, making fully grown adult decisions, you reminded yourself. 

Azriel’s hand traced down your spine, shadows trailing around other parts of your bare body, a laugh bubbling. His thumbs finally dug into the spot where your shoulder met your neck. A small, too sexual moan, considering the events of the past hour, slipped past your lips. 

“Beautiful,” you heard him say. 

“We have one night,” you reminded him, not entirely sure why you felt the need to. 

His hands paused, just for a second, before continuing their ministrations. 

“I know.” Was that resolve? Or maybe determination you heard there?

Before you could push he hit a particularly sensitive spot and your mind emptied.

An elbow jutted harshly into your side, drawing you back to the present. 

“Ouch,” you yelped, jumping away before your sister could do it again. “What was that for?” 

“You zoned out,” she rolled her eyes. “Again.” 

“Sorry,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Thinking of anyone special?” 

“No,” you answered too quickly. 

She hummed, tapping a finger against her lips, sending you a small secret smile, a I’ll keep it to myself, you shot her a grateful one back just as your parents rounded the street. Your entire family, visiting your home for once. 

-

The villagers had gotten word to Rhysand, an urgent message requesting help for you, claiming you were under some kind of curse they couldn’t figure out. You’d gone to search for some sort of herbs that only grew near the middle, came back a few days later with a glazed look in your eyes, behavior erratic but mostly unresponsive. 

The words were shaky, rushed, and the ink blotted as if someone had shed a tear writing the message. 

Rhys hadn’t questioned him when he insisted on coming with.

“We had to take everything away,” the male said quietly outside the door, nodding to someone who looked like his son - standing guard. “She kept trying to hurt herself.” 

Hurt herself? 

“We’ll see what we can do,” Rhys sent him a reassuring smile, but he knew his brother well enough to see the worry in his eyes, the mutual fear they shared. Koschei.

He felt Rhys’s shield surround them the moment they entered the room. There was a glazed look in your eyes, too familiar to Azriel. Same as the Autumn Court soldiers. 

“Y/n,” Rhys called your name cautiously. 

A few seconds, but you turned to face them.

Your eyes met his own - clarity, a flash of recognition, and his chest tightened almost unbearably. 

It only lasted a moment, before you screamed - nails clawing at your own skin, jagged marks left behind, wells of blood in their wake.  

-

Azriel spent hours with you that day, hoping to see that recognition again, to get any answers or words from you he could, but you hadn’t spoken a word, not even reacted again. 

Only that empty look.

Bloodlust, a desire to bring pain, harm, and despair to whoever dared put you in harms way thrummed so heavily in his veins it took a concentrated effort to remain partially anchored to reality. Azriel went hunting for the rat. Someone must’ve given information on you to Briallyn, and he intended on asking them a few questions. 

As weeks passed, the visits became less frequent. The solution was clear - until whoever had control of the crown was dead, you were gone to them. His mind refocused. Find the crown, and he’d find you again. He knew where to start. 

-

She’s free, a shadow curved around his ear; free, confused, scared.

He’d sent them to check on you, two days after Feyre gave birth - after Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx nearly died.

Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? That when Briallyn was killed, you might be freed as Cassian was released from the Crown’s control as well. The first thing he wanted was to see you, and the last thing to disturb Rhys’s temporary peace, but he had to. He knew Rhys had taken the burden heavily, that one of the Night Court’s own was attacked in their court. 

Azriel cast his thoughts to him; Y/n may be freed as well.

Rhys was downstairs in a moment, still looking a tad disheveled, but held his hand out to Azriel without another word. 

-

Back pressed against the wall, your head hung low, forearms propped on your knees. Not quite a cell, but not quite a room. Four smooth wooden walls, not a door you could find, one indestructible window - you’d tried, bruising and bloody knuckles standing as proof; a soft padded floor, comfortable enough to sleep - but nothing else. Water and food appeared at regular intervals, but you couldn’t remember how you got here. 

Your last memory … 

“Pretty little thing, so far from home, aren’t you?” An old crone cooed, a crown atop her head.

You spun slowly, reaching into your limited magic, hand going for the dagger, but she was there, touching your shoulder, and the world faded.

Is the crone keeping you prisoner? Saving you for a rainy day? 

The bigger, more important question was why. You hadn’t done anything to piss anyone off, as far as you knew, so why would they take you. Based on the rise and fall of the sun, it had only been two days, but you’d expected to at least hear from your captors by now.

Three knocks on the wall directly across from you, and you scrambled to your feet - planting them hip width apart, fists curled. 

A door appeared out of nowhere, handle materializing, and slowly swung open. First, you were greeted by two familiar scents. 

Your jaw dropped. Eyes darted between two of the most powerful people in your court. Hurt. Betrayal. Shock. 

“Why?”

“May I show you what happened?” Rhysand, your High Lord, asked first. 

“How .. how do I know you won’t do it again?” You seethed. 

They’d stepped fully inside now, and met hazel eyes as a memory flashed. 

One glimpse of him, a scream from your chest, before everything blanked again.

“What did you do to me?”

“We didn’t,” Azriel said, voice cool, soft, and … pleading? Almost imploring you to believe him. 

“Fine,” you turned a steely gaze on Rhysand, a faint warning in your eyes. Sure, your powers were nothing compared to his, but you knew there was a whole village who would be pissed if something happened to you. 

After what was probably supposed to be a reassuring nod from him - it didn’t work - you lowered the fragile barriers surrounding your mind and let him in. 

-

Azriel tensed at the glazed look crossing your eyes. Yes, it was different to when you were under Briallyn’s control, but similar enough to set him on edge. Through the glaze, he saw the shock and horror, watched your knees wobble, body beginning to shake. 

Shadows carried him through the room, and he caught you just as Rhys pulled from your mind. 

The shock was great enough you didn’t fight him off as he lowered you to the ground, as he crouched next to you, hands still keeping you from collapsing completely. From shattering. 

“We understand it’s a shock,” Rhys had crossed the room as well, crouching before you. “We can take you wherever you need to go, but we’d like you to see Madja first, if you’re willing.” 

“How long?” You croaked. 

“Fifty days,” Azriel replied instantly. He’d kept a mental tally of each one. 

Wide eyes turned to him, and you fainted. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, arms slipping under your shoulders, holding you in a sitting position. 

“Get her to the Moonstone Palace,” Rhys straightened. “I’ll send Madja over.”

Moonstone Palace. Not Velaris, not when someone could still have a sliver of influence in her mind. Still, Azriel didn’t question him. His priority was you. He’d found you again, and had no plans of letting you go if he could help it. 

-

“I still don’t like you,” you hissed at him, back propped against the headboard, surrounded by a mountain of pillows. 

“Fine with me,” his mouth curved up at one corner. As if it was. You didn’t need to be a daemati to read his mind,and  he planned on changing yours. 

“Absolutely not,” you corrected. 

“I said nothing.” 

The dry and cool tone, touched with the barest hint of amusement set your blood boiling, ticked off a familiar itch in your mind. Like he was making fun of you, that’s how it felt. 

-

He didn’t need to say anything. You couldn’t decide if you wanted him to or not, but the silence was suffocating. 

“Don’t do this to me again,” your jaw clenched, eyes hard and shoulders tight. 

Not a plea, a warning. Azriel realized this wasn’t fairytales and roses. He didn’t ‘save the girl,’ and have her fall at his feet. At least not with you, and gods-damn him but he liked it that way. 

Still on your sickbed, barely coming back from your ordeal and you were already shooting venom at him. At least you were paying attention to him. A small, logical part of him realized just how delusional he was, but with his shadows encouraging his compliance … he’d think through it more at another, undesignated, time.

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[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 10

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Ao3

[Warning for reference to sexual activities, fairly brief]

-

Robin watches Steve walk past the “Action” section with an armful of Schwarzenegger films three times before she says anything.

“You’re distracted today.”

“Hm?” Steve looks up at her, snapping out of whatever vacant thought he’d slipped away into and entirely proving her point. “Sorry, what?”

“Distracted. You.” Robin points down the correct aisle. “The Terminator and his ilk go down there.”

Steve shakes his head. “Right, sorry.”

Following him over, Robin leans against the end of the shelf while Steve sorts through cases that Robin knows have already been organized. “So what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Steve is quiet for a moment longer. He doesn’t seem unhappy – he seems lighter, actually. He’s not in the same weirdly good mood he’s been in for the last week, but he’s a little more settled, so whatever it is, Robin figures it can’t be bad.

Finally, he glances around the store (it’s empty; Sunday nights hardly even require two employees once the afternoon rush has died out, but Robin won’t complain about being paid to sit around and do nothing for a while), and then says, “Eddie and I are dating. Like, for real this time. I think.”

The words come out in a bit of a rush, and it takes Robin a moment to decide that, yes, she’d heard them correctly.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is exactly as pointed as she’d meant it to be, if the way Steve winces at the question is any indication.

“The last you told me, you two were ‘talking about it’ and ‘taking it slow.’” Air quotes are heavily employed to illustrate Robin’s new skepticism.

“And we were!” Steve says quickly.

“That was, like, two weeks ago, Steve!” Robin says. “That is not slow!”

“Well it’s not like we just jumped into it! We did talk, and we went on a couple of dates–”

“What? When? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I mean, the first was last weekend, so–”

Robin gasps, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You lied to me!”

“I did not,” Steve insists, pointing a finger right back at her, though it doesn’t have quite the same effect with one arm still full of clunky plastic cases.

“You did! You asked me to take your shift because, and I quote, you were going to do something for yourself,” Robin shoots back.

“And I did! I gave myself the chance to see where this thing with Eddie was going,” Steve says.

“Or, you gave yourself the chance to fall right back into the same pattern that hurt you before,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different this time,” he says, more quietly.

“How?” Robin demands. “Because ‘dating for real this time, I think,’ doesn’t sound that different.”

“I mean, we didn’t say the word dating, exactly, but…” Steve shifts a little on his feet, but stands firm. “He told me that he loves me.”

“Uh huh,” Robin drawls. “And was that before or after you slept together?”

She regrets it the moment she says it, regrets it the moment the words form and she knows they’re going to come out, but it’s too late. She can see the flash of genuine hurt on Steve’s face before he buries it beneath a layer of cool indifference.

“We didn’t actually have sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he bites out, turning and rounding to the next aisle.

Shit.

No one who Robin has personally seen tear a monster in half with his bare hands (feet?) has any right to look as much like a kicked puppy as Steve does, but he somehow manages it.

And the thing is, she knows how important that is to him – for someone to say the words out loud. She’s learned about his parents in bits and pieces; she even eventually got the full scoop on Nancy. She just– she worries. And when she worries, she says things before she really thinks them through.

Sighing, Robin walks around to the next aisle, finding Steve kneeling and paying entirely too much attention to the stacks of cases in front of him. When her slow approach isn’t rebuffed, she sinks down on the floor next to him, cross-legged with her back facing the shelf.

“I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot,” she says.

Steve shrugs.

“If it helps, it wasn’t directed at you,” Robin goes on. “I just– I really don’t have any reason to trust Eddie’s motives, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, and it’s my job as your best friend to look out for you and be mad at people on your behalf. Especially if you’re not going to be mad at them yourself.”

“Isn’t it also your job as my best friend to trust me and my judgment? And, like, support me when I’m doing something that’ll make me happy?” Steve asks quietly, a little dry.

“I guess,” Robin groans, leaning to the side so that her cheek is pillowed on the round of Steve’s shoulder. “But come on. If some girl made me cry, are you telling me you’d get over it in a snap?”

Robin can feel Steve tense beneath her for a moment, and she absolutely knows he’s thinking about lying to her.

“That’s different,” he finally says.

“It really isn’t, you big goddamn hypocrite.” Robin doesn’t bother to hide her smile, even as she smacks Steve on the back, ignoring the whiny ‘ow’ he gives her for it. “So tell me about the date.”

“Which one?” Steve asks.

“The first one. Must’ve been pretty good for you to agree to another,” Robin says.

“It… really was, actually.” Steve shifts carefully out of his crouch, giving Robin enough time to sit up before he settles onto the floor in front of her, back to the opposite shelf. “I mean, it was weird at first. He took me out to some random neighborhood and then we walked a little ways into the woods.”

“Creepy,” Robin says.

“A little bit, yeah.” Steve nods. “And then we came to this little, like, forgotten park? Had some playground equipment and a gazebo. And when we got there, he told me to turn around, so I couldn’t see what he was doing.”

“Creepier.” Robin wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, but I was curious, so I did it.” Steve shrugs and Robin snorts at him. “But when he let me turn back around, he’d uh – he had a bunch of candles lit up all around the gazebo? It was… really nice. And he brought dinner – something he cooked. Like, with one of the recipes I taught him.”

Robin’s brows go up, reluctantly impressed. “Damn, alright, point to Munson, that was pretty good,” she admits.

“It was,” Steve says with this dumb, smitten little grin that Robin will absolutely tease him about later.

“Okay, okay, so he picked up on you being a romantic, that’s great, but,” Robin holds her hands out in front of herself in an emphatic sort of ‘here’s the thing’ gesture, “where was all of this before?”

“Right?” Steve bursts out, flinging his arms out in front of himself, narrowly avoiding knocking into one of Robin’s hands. “Thank you! I’m not crazy for wondering that!”

“Of course you’re not,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “He didn’t tell you that you were, did he?”

“No, no, he– he didn’t.” Steve quickly shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know, I felt like I was being kind of unreasonable, I guess. Like, maybe for wanting any of that at all. Or wondering why he didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re not,” Robin says again. “You deserve to get what you want, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eddie keeps saying.” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the shelf.

“Well… good,” Robin says, a mildly reluctant concession. Maybe Eddie’s getting on the right page after all.

“He says he wants me to tell him when I need something,” Steve says. “Like… he wants me to talk to him.”

“What, about your feelings?” Robin asks, playfully wrinkling her nose. “Gross.”

“The worst,” Steve agrees drily, but he looks pleased, and a little thoughtful. Robin gives him the minute to think, before he says, “I did kind of blow up at him, though. Before that.”

“Good,” Robin laughs, nudging his knee with hers.

“It did sort of feel good,” Steve admits, glancing down through his lashes at Robin. “Just… to kinda get it all out.”

“What happened then?” Robin asks.

“Well, it’s – last night kind of went sideways,” Steve says. “It was supposed to be another date, but…”

“But…?”

“He just – when we were having dinner last weekend, he kept calling it our first date, and it was, but it also wasn’t? I kept thinking about what I thought was our first date.”

“Wait, was that the time in your car out by the quarry?”

Steve lifts his head up so he can shift the full brunt of his scrunched look of disapproval onto her. “No, hooking up in my car out by the quarry was not our first date. That didn’t happen until later.”

“Well it’s not like I have timestamps on these things, Steve!” Robin groans.

“It was that night at the diner,” Steve says, and Robin’s mouth falls into a little “oh” of recognition.

“The diner.” She nods.

It’s obvious in retrospect; Robin has heard everything about that night and then some, from the way Eddie had managed to get ketchup everywhere to “and he can do this thing with his tongue, even I didn’t know you could do that, but I’m gonna try and figure it out, it was so good–” (Robin had teasingly asked him if he’d need to practice on a peach or a banana, and he’d thrown a handful of balled-up receipts at her before deciding “both”).

“But he wanted me to tell him about it, so I did, and then last night, for our date, he took me to the diner,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at Robin.

“What?” Robin’s eyebrows scrunch down in answer. “Did he think he just gets a do-over?”

“That’s what I asked!” Steve says, before subsiding a bit. “But I don’t… I really don’t think he thought that far ahead. I think he just wanted us both to have, like, some kind of special memory there.”

Robin hums, squinting at Steve skeptically.

“Anyway, I kinda yelled at him and I left, but then he actually came and found me,” Steve continues.

“Where did you go?” Robin asks.

“The lake.”

“Why were you all the way out there?”

Steve grimaces. “Mostly because I knew he doesn’t like going out there.”

Robin snorts, and Steve’s grimace shifts into a guilty sort of smile.

“But he came out there, anyway. And we talked, and– I really think he means it, Rob,” Steve says, looking at her like he needs her to believe it, too. Or at least like he needs her to believe him.

Robin sighs, letting her head fall back slowly, as if she’s deflating. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Munson is off death row. He can have a parole hearing.”

“I think you’re getting a little too into this whole execution metaphor,” Steve says.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t decide to make it literal,” Robin shoots back, and Steve laughs. “So, wait,” she looks back up, “you seriously haven’t had sex again? Since the whole…?”

“Oh my god, get this: he actually walked me to my door last weekend,” Steve says, halfway between incredulous and amused. “He didn’t even ask to come inside. Said the rule is to wait until the third date.”

“Oh, I bet you loved that,” Robin teases.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to come in,” Steve scoffs. “But I’m… kind of glad he didn’t. It was different.”

Robin smiles. “Different is promising,” she says, reaching out to pat Steve on the knee. “Now come on; we close in, like, half an hour and I don’t want to stay late cleaning.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, hoisting himself off the floor before offering Robin a hand up.

“Also, you owe me dinner for all the secrecy,” Robin declares, heading back towards the front of the store with the intent of putting the counter back in order.

“What?” Steve groans. “I already spent, like, two weeks with literally no one to talk to about all of this. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Nope,” Robin says, and for all she can hear him grumbling, it only takes a minute before Steve is standing next to her again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Sap,” she mutters, putting arm around his waist and squeezing him back.

“And yet, who agreed to be my best friend?” Steve asks.

Robin sighs. “I did,” she says, and she doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s grin mirrors hers.

Part 11

-

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[selfcontrolskey]

“You’re an asshole”

❗️A little bit was my idea but the rest isn’t my idea❗️

nicholas leister x reader

Sorry for the povs switching so much and for how long this is 😅

( can we please get more fics about this man )

You're fighting your enemy in the training room. Nicolas, apparently the best underground fighter ever according to lion.

As I step forward to hit him he quickly steps back. He's fast, l'II give him that.

I hit him again this time not giving him time to step back. He softly chuckles and touches his jaw where I hit him.

"Not bad"

I quickly regain my position in order to strike again. But this time he’s the faster one. He blocks my hit and knees me in the stomach.

I slightly stumble backwards.

That son of a bitch he knew it was bruised from my previous fight. He strikes again this time aiming for my face.

I duck just in time. “Is that all you’ve got?” I ask teasingly. I strike forward but he blocks my hit and turns me around so my back is against his chest.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He says in a mocking tone.

I chuckle. “oh no, I still have something just for you.” I lift my leg and hit him right in his area before he could react.

He lets go of me and stumbles backwards.

“Got you again.” I smile proudly.

Nick’s pov:

“Is that all you got?” I ask using the same words she did. A little laugh escapes from her mouth. her head touching my chin in the meanwhile.

“Oh no. I still have something special just for you.” Before I can figure out what that means I feel a stinging pain near my dick.

I let her go and stumble backwards.

After a few seconds I stand straight ignoring the throbbing pain.

“Aw I’m sorry did that hurt?” A little smirk appears on her face.

I’m gonna kill her.

Her smirk disappears into something more serious. I regain my position and get ready to defend myself.

She quickly moves and slides her legs under mine. I step back just in time.

This time I step forward and kick her in the leg making her loss balance. With that she falls to the ground, right on her back.

I can hear her trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry did that hurt?” She slowly moves her head and I can see she’s getting angrier by the second. I like it when she’s angry.

She slowly stands up and gets ready for another round. She’s a tough one. I’ll give her that.

I shake my head and chuckle.

“What? Afraid to lose?” She says.

“Like hell I am.” I say getting my hands ready to fight.

“Good” She responds getting ready as well.

Suddenly she looks to the left catching my attention. What the hell is she looking at? As I turn my head I’m welcomed with a fist to my face.

I stumble backwards but mange to remain my balance.

“Oh. So that’s how we’re playing now huh?”

I slowly wipe away the blood from my lips and look straight at her. She’s enjoying this.

"What, didn't expect that from a girl?" She says wiping the blood from her knuckles.

I give her a small smile and attack. My left fist first which she blocks. Then my right one, hitting her jaw. She quickly recovers and tries to knee me in the stomach. I grab her knee right before it reaches me.

"Not this time" Panick flashes her eyes so quickly I might think I imagined it. I push her back and slide my foot under her standing leg.

She falls but takes me down with her. Now I'm on top of her pinning her wrists down. Heavy breathing coming from both of us.

"Ready to give up?"

your pov:

Now he's on top of me and pinning my wrists. Heavy breathing coming from both of us.

"Ready to give up yet?” He asks with that stupid smirk of his. I slowly move my head forwards. I can feel his his breath on my lips.

"You know what. I actually like this position" I say seductively.

"Oh come on, you should know you can't play the same game two times"

"What if l'm not playing?" I breath out.

His eyes piercing through mine. "Forgive me for not really trusting your word" He whispers in my ears.

I quietly chuckle. “Good decision" I quickly move and pin him to the ground. Sitting on his lap, this time me pinning him down. I slightly move forward making him groan.

"What? Cat got your tongue?” He quickly glances at me and I can see desire and anger build behind his eyes. "You know what, l'll give you one more chance."

"One last round" I pat his chest and get ready to get up. Two hands suddenly pull me back down. His hands on my waist preventing me from getting up again. "Don't"

Confusion and realisation hit me at the same time. "Aw you don't have a crush on me do you?" I say leaning forward.

His hands tighten around my waist. "Don't move.”

nick’s pov:

She quickly moves and get's on top of me.

Oh fuck.

I slightly groan causing her to look at me. She slowly leans forward and an intense feeling goes right trough my body.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

No, you just made me hard..

I close my eyes trying to focus on anything else but her sitting on my fucking lap.

"You know what?" She responds "I'll give you one more chance" I quickly open my eyes and see that she's sincere.

"One. Last. Round" She says holding up a finger. She patts my chest and get's ready to stand up. No fucking way she is getting up now.

I grab her by the waist and pull her back down. Another sensation strikes right trough my body. fuck, I'm hard. She softly yelp’s and looks confusing at me.

But not for long, her brain quickly catches up and knows what is happening. Her eyes suddenly fill with pleasure. "You don't have a crush on me do you?"

She leans forward and I cant help but tighten my hands around her small waist. "Don't move” I breath out.

Fuck, this feels good.

"Think of my mom" she says out of the blue. Did she just say what I think she did?

"What the hell."

"What? You want me to turn you on?"

“Not fucking help.”

your pov:

"Think of my mom" I suddenly blurt out.

He quickly glances at me with a "wtf" look. "What the hell.” He says.

“What?” I ask offended. “You want me to turn you on?"

“Not fucking helping.” he says closing his eyes again.

"Okay, just give me a second to think"

He slightly groans.

“Yeah, sure. Please take your time.” I ignore his comment and think.

Okay, this might work.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

He suddenly opens his eyes and looks at me. “Why, you interested?"

At that I laugh. "Oh please"

His eyes slightly darken and something moves in my stomach.

“Just answer it"

"You think you'd be straddling my lap if I had one?”

"I'm not straddling your lap, I am simply just sitting on it" I say with confidence.

"It's your fault I have to sit on it anyway, so hurry and make it disappear."

"It's not a toy you know, you can't just fucking control it.”

"Fine, just hurry"

He sotfly laughs and shakes his head. A few moments pass and he looks more relaxed.

"You ready?" I ask so we can finally fight again.

"No, just give me a few more seconds."

I see a small smirk form on his stupid face.

oh this bitch.

“You’re nasty.” I say hitting his chest. I quickly get up and hear him laughing still on the floor.

"You can forget that last round" I say walking out of the training area.

"Why? Because you can't beat me?" As I turn around I can see he's standing again.

"Cmon just say it." He says walking closer to me.

“Say what? That you're an asshole? Gladly." He takes one step forward making him even closer to me. I slowly lift my eyes to meet his.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

"That I'm better than you" I softly snort at that. He has some serious ego issues.

"Fine, just come a bit closer."

He slowly grins and steps closer.

I put my hands on his chest and stand on my tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"You're."

I wait a second before continuing.

"an asshole."

I put my leg behind his and push him backwards.

He lands with a loud thud.

“Oops.”

"Did you want me to say something else?"

He looks at me and anger fills his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you"

"Good luck trying"

I give him a wink and leave the training facility.

Nick’s pov:

Before I can realise what she is doing I land with a loud thud on the floor.

"Oops" she says looking extra innocently. "Did you want me to say something else?"

I glance up at her, pure anger filling me once again. This woman is gonna fucking mess me up.

"I'm gonna kill you" I say with gritted teeth.

She softly grins and gives me a wink. "Good luck trying.” Then she turns around and leaves me, her ass swaying slightly with every step.

Fuck.

SORRY ABOUT THE POV CHANGING SO MUCH 😭

and yes I used the ‘cat got your tongue’ thing again. Bite me. But I hope you enjoyed !