#that’s probably me done for the day but let me tell you this fandom gets me wanting to Create

[delta-lethonomia]

ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

[magpiesketchins]

sometimes you just wake up and think how the hell did I manage this?

The only way I can describe the technique I used for this sketch is Carving.

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[bad268]

Love your writingg!!

Could you write a oneshot with ollie when reader couldn't make it to a race and she got sick while at home but didnt tell ollie cuz it couldve made him shit the race and he comes back home at takes care of herr??

+hiii!! idk if ure still taking request, but maybe an ollie x reader where she gets her wisdom tooth out and the aftermath is just her being chaotic and funny while ollie just goes with everything.

but yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. thank you!

Boyfriend Of The Year (Ollie Bearman X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I just did a sick fic, so i decided to incorporate these. Hope yall don't mind <3)

Warnings: Wisdom teeth surgery and recovery

POV: Majority Second Person (You/your), some Third Person (They/them)

W.C. 2301

Summary: A routine dentist appointment turns into a secret to keep Ollie sane.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your phone was blowing up with texts from Ollie. He was probably wondering where you were at this point since you promised to be at the qualifying session, but due to a dentist appointment scheduled between the sessions, you had to split up. Ollie and his dad drove together, and you took an uber to your appointment. Well, at that dentist appointment, you found out that your chronic jaw pain was actually your wisdom teeth getting dangerous. They were growing inwards and pressing your teeth, so your dentist strongly encouraged an emergency wisdom teeth removal for the same day. Ollie was going to be pissed and you knew it.

“Hey, CareBear,” You greeted in a fake tone. You were still at the dentist, but you stepped outside to get a little bit of privacy. “What’s up?”

“Don’t ‘Hey CareBear’ me! Where are you? You said you were gonna be here,” Ollie asked. He was finally able to let out a breath after running around the paddock trying to find where you were. When he couldn’t find you, he started asking around, but no one had seen you. Then, he started calling you, and coincidentally, the calls were during your x-rays or consultation, so you were not answering. It was driving him insane. “Are you almost here?” 

“The dentist was short-staffed, so they haven't gotten me in yet,” You came up with on the fly. You knew he would hate that you lied to him, but he would also throw his entire race weekend away for you. Yes, it was adorable and it’s part of what made you love him, but this was not the time to be a loving boyfriend. This was the time to show everyone why he deserved the Haas seat. He could be boyfriend of the year afterward. “I can text you when I’m done, but I need to see them today. You know how bad my jaw has been hurting lately.”

“Oh?” Ollie smirked as he lowered his voice, about to make a joke but his dad walked right past him.

“Don’t even start, Oliver,” You pressed as you saw your dentist gesturing for you to come back in, so they could prepare you for the surgery. “Listen, CareBear, I gotta go. I think they’re ready to take me back. I’ll text your dad to pick me up when we start wrapping up. You need to get back for debrief or start preparing for quali.”

“Yeah, I should probably eat something,” Ollie said to himself as he scratched the back of his neck. He had never had to go into qualifying without you, so he was a bit nervous. However, he totally understood that this was something you needed to do. “I’ll get on pole for you.”

“I expect you in the top 22, nothing less,” You joked as you both said goodbye and hung up the call. You headed back inside as they started giving you the rundown on how the surgery would occur. For once, you were thankful for scheduling your appointment in the morning and not eating beforehand. Just before they would put you under, you decided to call Ollie’s dad. It didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Hey, Y/n,” David greeted immediately as he walked toward the back of the garage, “Need me to pick you up? That was awfully quick.”

“Actually no,” You chuckled nervously. “Don’t tell Ollie until after quali, but I’m getting my wisdom teeth out right now. If we tell him, he’s going to freak out.”

“Was this the plan the whole time?” He asked, quieting down as Ollie walked by nonethewiser. He was finishing up before he would be getting in the car, so he had enough on his plate, in your opinion.

“No, I just found out that the jaw pain I thought was the start of TMJ was actually my wisdom teeth growing inwards,” You explained with a smile as you watched your dentist finish setting everything out. “Listen, David, I’ll need you to pick me up in like an hour. Maybe after qualifying break it to him? Or just let him figure it out when I’m loopy. I really don’t care.”

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” David reassured as he saw Ollie gesturing for him to come over before he would get in the car. “Have them call me when you’re done, and we’ll pick you up.”

You thanked him before ending the call and heading into the back where the operation would take place. 

The qualifying session went by quickly for Ollie because it was basically a one-lap shot. Right after the first laps, it started pouring rain, so when Ollie was at the top of the timing page, no one was able to beat him. He tried to call you as soon as he got out of the car, but every call went straight to voicemail. It freaked him out a little, but he brushed it off, thinking you were still getting your cleaning. It wasn’t until his dad was ushering him to change and get to the car park almost as soon as he wrapped up media that he started thinking something was wrong. Ollie sat nervously in the passenger seat as his dad drove in silence, which was completely unusual for him, so he decided to try and break the tension.

“So, dad,” He dragged out as he looked over at his dad. They pulled up to a red light, and David looked at Ollie. “Where are we going?”

“The dentist,” David said simply as he moved the car into first gear when the light changed. “We need to pick Y/n up.”

“Shouldn’t they have finished up during quali?” Ollie asked before muttering to himself, “I thought they would have been in the garage by the end of media.”

“They had to get some work done,” David responded. It was light-hearted, so Ollie wasn’t too worried. When they pulled up, he parked the car but made no move to get out for a second, causing Ollie to look over confused. “They had to get their wisdom teeth out.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ollie freaked out, immediately getting out of the car and trying to reach the front door before his dad. Unfortunately for him, his dad anticipated this and beat him to the punch by blocking the door. “Dad, let me in.”

“No, you need to understand why we didn’t tell you,” David pressed as he put a hand on Ollie's shoulder and sheered him back toward the car. “They didn’t want you to be nervous in qualifying. It’s getting to the end of your season, and next year, you’ll be in F1. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and the last thing they wanted was for you to get nervous and risk your position in the championship.”

“That makes no sense! I wouldn’t have thrown the session!” Ollie disputed as he threw his hands up.

“Oh, please,” David tsked, “You almost crashed the car when you found out they had a headache a few months ago. Of course, you wouldn’t completely compromise your qualifying session knowing they were getting surgery. That sounds totally believable to me.” 

“Maybe you have a point,” Ollie mumbled as he dripped his hands to his sides in defeat. He looked back over to his dad as he sighed, “Can we go in now?”

“Are you going to cause a scene?”

“No.”

~

POV Switch-Third POV

All the while, Y/n was just waking up. The team had wrapped up the surgery at the end of qualifying and called David, saying he didn’t need to rush since they still needed to ween Y/n off of the meds and they still needed to pass the memory tests.

Y/n didn’t remember even waking up, but they did semi-register people walking in, around, and out of their room. Most of them were dentists or nurses checking their vitals, but then two people walked in that didn’t look like a dentist or nurse. It was Ollie and David, but Y/n was still too out of it to recognize them (or what they were saying to be honest).

“So they’ll be a little loopy for a while,” one of the dentists said to David, causing him to nod. Ollie had already taken a seat beside you and was holding your hand. The dentist then took David out of the room to talk about how to help clean the wounds and give him a list of foods that Y/n could eat while recovering. Ollie wanted to say something, anything to Y/n but they ended up talking before him.

“Whoever is your significant other is lucky because damn you’re hot,” Y/n chuckled slightly as they fell back against the pillows and smiled sleepily as they looked at him. “They’re like really lucky.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re my significant other,” Ollie chuckled with them as he brought their hands up to kiss their knuckles.

“No way!” Y/n said as loud as the gauze in their mouth could allow as their eyes almost fell out of their head. “You’re telling me I bagged you?!”

“You bagged me,” Ollie chuckled in disbelief. He was upset at first that Y/n didn’t tell him sooner, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at them, especially when they said something like that. “If I tell you a word, can you remember it for me?”

“Anything for you, handsome,” Y/n shamelessly flirted as they leaned in a little closer to prop their head against Ollie’s free hand that was resting by their head. 

“The word is ‘pole’,” Ollie said, and Y/n repeated it a couple of times before nodding that they understood it. “Okay, how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling tired. I wanna sleep. I wanna eat. I’m hungry. I want someone to tell me what place Ollie is in for the race tomorrow,” Y/n ranted before gasping toward the end, remembering the qualifying session they missed. In the haze, Y/n’s brain never connected that Ollie was sitting in front of them as they went on a rant. “Ollie Bearman is my favorite driver, and I wanna know where he placed. Do you know Ollie?”

“I know of him, yeah,” Ollie said as he bit back a laugh. There was no way he was witnessing this. “I think I know where he placed.”

“Where?” Y/n gasped as they tried to sit up in the bed, but the vitals machine started going off, causing a few personnel to walk in, but Ollie was already pushing them back.

“What was the word from earlier?”

“Pole?” Y/n said confused before it finally connected, “Wait, pole position?”

“Yup, he’s on pole for the feature race,” Ollie smiled at their enthusiasm. “Now, what’s my name?”

“What’s your name? CareBear?”

“Well, yes, but what’s my real name?” 

“Oliver,” Y/n dragged out before the fog cleared enough for them to make the connection. “Wait! Ollie, my CareBear! You’re Ollie!”

“I am,” Ollie chuckled as he leaned over to place a kiss on Y/n’s forehead while the dentists started removing wires and needles from Y/n, so they could leave. Ollie wrapped an arm around their shoulder, knowing Y/n didn’t like needles. He took to whispering reassurance in their ear until they were cleared to leave. Ollie then asked, “You still sleepy?”

Y/n didn’t respond as they were already asleep, so when all of the paperwork was signed, Ollie picked Y/n up to carry them to the car.  The entire ride to the hotel, Y/n was asleep against Ollie’s shoulder until David pulled into the parking spot. That’s when Y/n woke up, stretching their arms above their head.

“I still wanna sleep,” Y/n whined as they leaned back against Ollie. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“I can always carry you again,” Ollie commented already getting out of the car and moving around to help Y/n out. As soon as Y/n stepped out, Ollie’s arm was lifting up their legs to carry them up to their room. Thankfully, David was already leading the way and opening doors for them.

“You’re really working for that Boyfriend Of The Year award, aren't you?” Y/n teased as they plopped their head against Ollie’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know I was in the running,” Ollie joked back as he left a kiss on their nose.

“You’re always in the running,” Y/n pouted before going on another tangent, “Y’know, I’d love to kiss you, but I can’t really feel my lips so I don’t know how that would go.”

“I’ll give you a kiss when you don’t have bloody gauze in your mouth,” Ollie said as he walked up to the door. “Does that sound like a deal?”

“Add some ice cream or smoothies and you’ve got a deal.”

“You can’t drink from a straw, so no smoothies.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Not a buzzkill,” Ollie said simply as he set Y/n down on the bathroom counter, so he could change their gauze. “We’re not risking you getting dry socket.”

“Kissass.”

“How does that make me a kissass?” Ollie chuckled as he helped Y/n down from the counter and to the bed. Ollie fixed the pillows around them to make them comfortable before grabbing an icepack from the freezer. 

“You know the judge of the Boyfriend Of The Year award, and you’re kissing their ass,” Y/n chuckled as they leaned back into the pillows and took the icepacks from Ollie, immediately pressing them against their face. “Let me say, you’re winning.”

“I would hope so,” Ollie retorted, “I should be the only one in the running!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[mattslolita]

one of the girls - c. sturniolo

in which ... you're one of chris sturniolo's girls for the night of the versus tour. ( chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; smut, fingering, cowgirl, creampie, unprotected piv ( wrap it freak hoes )

"𝒊 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

every moment since you had bought the tickets, you'd been waiting for this day for months — the let's trip versus tour. you've been a fan of the sturniolo triplets since late 2022, and since you weren't able to make the first tour, here was your second chance in 2023 to make the versus tour.

you and your best friend alize had been trying to pick out the perfect outfit for you both to wear, having switched things up many times in between since you wanted it to be a perfect day.

even though as a nick girl she'd be wearing purple, you and alize wanted to match with each other to the t — her outfit contrasted yours only because she wore a cardigan instead of a puffer like you had. the amount of pictures you both took on the uber ride to the venue was insanity, as you both were twinning so hard.

when the day came, you felt excitement course throughout your body as you realized you'd soon be in close vicinity with chris sturniolo — you were a die hard avid for 'black girls 4 chris', something you and alize would joke about all the time. you liked to joke and say you were the number one chris girl ever, whilst alize said that she'd hands down be nick's favorite lesbian.

you knew sometimes your fangirling could get out of hand at times, as you found multiple occasions where chris was your wet dream or you often daydreamed about what it would be like to be with him. his voice, his hair, his personality, that smile, he had lived in your head rent free. you also knew chris probably had no issue at all when it came to hookups, but that wasn't something you cared about — even if it was for one night, one time, you wanted to be in their shoes. you wanted to know what it was like to be one of chris's girls.

the line at the venue had filled quickly, as you and alize had met several of your online friends you made from the fandom — the other girls were sweet and kind, and as you looked at the other chris girls in the crowd you briefly felt a wave of sadness as you thought that any of them could be the lucky one.

your worry dissipated though as you felt alize's excitement radiating off of her body, causing you to giggle. "girl, how are you feeling?"

"how you gon ask me that, y/n?" alize said in disbelief, causing you to giggle as she put a hand on her chest, "we literally finna be breathing the same air as nick sturniolo. hoe, i'm unwell."

some people shot alize dirty looks at her seemingly rude behavior, but both of you paid no mind to them — anyone who was friends with her knew that that's the way she joked around with people, the way she spoke in general.

"i'm so excited to see chris," you tell her dreamily, running a hand through your curly lace front you got done yesterday, "i hope i get picked as his teammate."

"laura's racist if she don't pick us to be one of they partners," alize whispered to you, causing you both to laugh as the line moved forward.

"remember, we get to get pictures and do small talk before the show starts, so make sure we're headed for that line!" you explain to alize who playfully rolls her eyes and swats your shoulder.

"girl chill out, i remember what our tickets said!" alize giggled, "i sure as hell remember how much we paid for them things, ain't no way i'm not speaking to them!"

"and then the merch," you whined, pouting your lips, "that shit was going into my funds for college next semester!"

"then you might wanna start looking for a j-o-b!" alize tells you knowingly, causing you to groan, "i told you, i can speak to my manager for you!"

"girl that man is a pervert, i'm not working there!" you say firmly, "how do you even deal with him?"

"why do you think i act like a dude every time i have a shift?" alize tells you knowingly, "you'll never catch me wearing stuff like this around him."

you felt yourself become excited again as you looped your arm with alize's looking at you guys' matching outfits. "i still can't believe how much we matched with each other!"

"what if we can get a group picture with me, you, nick, and chris?" alize wonders, "we'd all look fine as shit."

"i know chris probably looking fine as hell today," you whispered to alize, causing her to giggle at you.

"girl you always think he look fine," alize says with an eyeroll, causing you to nudge her shoulder playfully.

you could feel your nerves heighten as you got a view of the area where the triplets could be seen doing group photos with the fans. a nerve of both excitement and arousal coursed through your veins as your eyes landed on chris — stray hairs peaked from underneath his black backwards cap, his usual friendly smile painted across his features. you unknowingly bit your lip as you scanned his outfit, seeing as he was wearing an orange tasmanian devil shirt with black jeans white air forces — casual, yet he still turned you on so much.

you took a deep breath as the line drew closer, and you had an even better view of the triplets. they all looked so good, and you felt both excited and nervous at the fact that it would soon be you and alize's turn.

just as you had turned to whisper something alize, chris's eyes had somehow wondered over to you unbeknownst to you — his eyes wandered around the entirety of your outfit, drinking in your brown skin and your thick thighs which were somewhat hidden by your skirt. he almost smirked as he realized you had been dressed in all orange, letting him know you were a chris girl. his girl.

when you looked up from laughing at what alize had said, you could feel eyes on you — your breath almost caught in your throat when you realized he was checking you out. you bite your lip nervously as he swiped his thumb over his nose before giving you a small smirk, directing his attention back towards the fans who were next in line.

you could've melted right then and there, now having to clench your thighs at this. there's no way chris sturniolo was checking you out just now? your mind had to be playing tricks on you.

then again, you didn't doubt chris had thought some fans were were cute. he definitely wouldn't have had any problem hooking up with the older fans if they let him, you definitely would've wanted to hookup with him.

your nerves skyrocket even more when you realize you and alize are up next.

the security ushers you towards nick first, who offers you a warm smile and outstretched arms. "hi, love!"

"hi nick!" you say, hugging him quickly before you make your way towards matt. "hi matt!"

matt gives you a smile, hugging you back as you go to chris next.

his eyes are already on you, having watched your interaction with his brothers — a small smirk is on his face as he pulls you in for a hug, his hands dangerously close to your ass as they reside on your waist. "hi, gorgeous."

it comes out a sort of whisper, which causes your cheeks to warm as you pull away from him with a shy smile. "hi, chris."

you turn to see alize already positioned in between nick and matt, so you took that as the initiative to put yourself in between chris and matt as well. nick puts his arms around alize with a smile, whilst both matt and chris put their arms around you.

well, matt's arm stays around your neck, while chris slips his around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze causing you to clench your thighs together.

the picture snaps twice, and you turn to wave a quick goodbye to both nick and matt. chris smirks, sending a subtle smack to your ass as you give him a shy wave and you leave with alize.

you still couldn't believe what just happened — you debated on telling alize, but she was so caught up in rambling about the fact that she just hugged and smelled nick so you just giggled with her and let her talk.

the show soon started, and unfortunately you did not get picked to be chris's teammate — but you and alize squealed of excitement when laura asked if she wanted to be nick's teammate. of course that girl was not finna pass that up.

you were front and center of the stage, watching as the show took place in front of you — you knew your eyes weren't playing tricks on you when you saw the glances chris kept sneaking at you. you couldn't help but let your doe eyes wander and stay on his, even when you were recording alize and nick. you had almost missed the perfect swish alize made with the basketball, causing you to cheer loudly for your best friend.

when chris had walked near your side of where the stage was, he gave you a subtle wink to which you smiled and blinked your doe eyes up at him. you were hoping other girls couldn't see it, as they would be quick to make stupid assumptions, because it's not like anything was happening.

the show soon ended, leaving you both nervous and excited once again since you and alize had the small talk with them now. unfortunately you and alize ended up being one of the last people in line, since she accidentally left her phone somewhere on the stage and spent time looking for it.

the small talk line up was in birth order, which you were extremely grateful for — alize had went before you, and now you were up next as you make your way towards nick again.

"hi again!" nick says to you with a beam, holding his arms out for another hug.

"hi, how are you?" you ask him excitedly, as you place one of your posters on the small table.

"i'm feeling good, it was cool to meet everyone," nick tells you, unrolling your poster of all three of them. you hold a pen out to him, which he gratefully accepts, "how are you tonight?"

"i'm doing good!" you tell him excitedly, "i can't believe chris won again, what's going on with you, stink?"

both of you laugh, and he shakes his head. "trust girl, i'm gonna win we just need to give it some time."

"period!" you say, holding your phone up, snapping a few pictures with him, "thank you so much nick, i hope you have a blessed rest of the tour!"

"thank you so much for coming!" nick smiles as you both hug one more time, before you give him a wave as you're off to matt next.

matt smiles at you as you approach him, and you smile back as you set your things on his table. "hi again!"

"hi, matt!" you say calmly, "may i hug you?"

"absolutely, c'mere," he says politely, outstretching his arms towards you, and you slip into his arms.

"how are you tonight?" you ask him, as he signs one of your posters.

"i'm doing good, i can't believe how many people came," matt tells you, and you nod understandingly.

"i'm glad to know you're doing good! i hope you're having fun, too," you tell him sweetly, as he smiles and pulls you in for another hug.

"do you wanna take some pictures?" he asks you kindly, and you nod enthusiastically, handing him your phone as he snaps a couple of .5 photos of you both.

"have a blessed rest of your tour!" you tell matt as you collect your things, beginning to walk away as he smiles and waves at you.

as you're approaching chris, he already has that same smirk plastered on his face as he watches you walk up to him slowly — when you reach him and set your things down on the table, he's instantly bringing you in for a hug.

his hands skim over your skirt momentarily, causing your breath to hitch at the close contact. "hi again, chris."

"hey ma," chris says, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip as he eyes you up and down shamelessly, "did you miss me?"

"i'm a chris girl, of course i missed you," you purred, a sudden bold confidence striking you as you blink your doe eyes at him.

he licks his lips at you and hurriedly jots something down onto one of your posters, and you find yourself unable to look away from him as you take in the way his jawline is so sharp and how the light hits him. he looks so hot, and something inside you wishes he would take you right then and there.

"alright, wrap it up!" one of the security guards yells towards you, causing you to sigh as chris gave you an apologetic smile.

"it was nice meeting you, chris," you say shyly, going to grab your posters.

"you'll see me later, gorgeous," chris whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls away, giving you a wink, "see you soon."

you give him one last smile before you hurriedly begin walking to find where alize is at. as you're nearing the hallway, a buzz in your pocket causes you to take your phone out, seeing a message from alize.

alize🙈🫦

girl tell me why i left my phone AGAIN

i went to go look for it that's why you don't see me anywhere

you curse under your breath at this, silently shaking your head as you begin walking towards the exit — suddenly a hand goes out to grab your arm and carefully yank you towards the door.

"what the fu-"

"told you you'd see me again, ma," chris's voice smirks, and you could feel yourself gasp as you turn to see him, your hand still in his.

"where are we going?" you ask, looking up at him.

"giving you a private tour," he smirks, licking his lips as he looks you up and down once more before pulling you towards the door.

it's nighttime already as the both of you exit out of the door — you feel yourself giggle slightly as the wind whips your hair whilst he hurriedly makes his way towards their tour bus with you.

he looks around to make sure nobody saw or followed, and he quickly opens the tour bus doors. chris signals for you to get inside first, and he couldn't help but watch the way your ass jiggled when you walked up the steps.

as soon as you both were inside, you barely have a chance to look around at the tour bus before chris hurriedly whirls you around to face him, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss.

your arms find their way wrapped around his neck as he draws you closer to him, his arms slithering down to give your waist a gentle squeeze before he lands a smack to your ass.

you gasp into the kiss, allowing his tongue access inside your mouth — you moan when his hands roam all over your body, until he hooks his arms under your legs.

"jump f'me," he mumbles into the kiss.

you do as you're told, jumping and hooking your legs around his waist. chris walks backwards towards the sofa couch, sitting down on it as he continues to kiss you.

you move your legs on either side of his waist straddling him, as you whimper into the kiss — you detach your lips from his and bite down on his bottom lip, pulling away with a pop.

"fuck, you're so hot, baby," chris breathes, causing you to whimper again as you grind down on his hard on.

"chris i want you to do whatever you want with me," you breathe, resting your forehead on his as you catch your breath, "i'm yours."

"is that so, sweetheart?" chris grins up at you, running his hands up and down your sides which causes a shiver to run down your spine, "you gonna be a good girl f'me?"

"yes, always," you tell him, grinding down on him again eliciting a low groan from him.

chris reattaches your lips, tilting his head in order to dominate the kiss — he pulls away and leaves a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking on a particularly sweet spot causing a moan to escape your lips.

you shrug your puffer jacket off of your shoulders, as chris helps to take off your halter top as well. your tits spill out of your bra causing chris to groan as he takes one in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it whilst massaging and kneading the other.

"m, fuck chris," you whine, throwing your head back as you grind down on his erection, feeling your panties dampen.

"take this off f'me baby," chris instructs you, taking his hands off of you so that you could stand up.

you hurriedly pull down your skirt, revealing the orange lace panties you wore underneath — chris's eyes darkened with lust, immediately pulling you back onto his lap. "fuck, you had this all planned out, didn't you?"

"no, but i was hoping it worked," you giggled, biting down on his earlobe as his hand went down to rub across your slick.

"look at you, so wet f'me," chris breathed against your skin, rubbing his hand along your wetness teasingly, "take these off baby."

you quickly stood up and rid yourself of the panties, throwing them to the ongoing pile of clothes. chris pulled you back onto his lap, inserting one of his long, slender fingers into your hole, causing a lewd moan to escape your lips.

"f-fuck chris, feels so good," you moan, throwing your head back as his fingers work in and out of you.

"taking my fingers so well, sweetheart," chris rasps, leaving kisses along your neck as his fingers curl inside you.

"please, faster..." you whine out, his mouth leaving a deep purple spot on your neck as he pulls away with a pop.

he speeds his pace as he finger fucks you, loving the way you sound as he abuses your walls with his fingers — he added another, increasing the pleasure and you felt your orgasm approaching quickly.

"so close, chris," you moan, grinding onto his fingers, "m' gonna cum."

"cum on my fingers baby," chris grunts in your ear.

you quickly obliged, feeling your orgasm wash over you as a moan of chris's name escapes your lips and your juices coat his fingers, your legs shaking. you stand up as he licks his fingers clean, grinning up at you as he pulls his pants and boxers down revealing his throbbing cock — your eyes widened, now knowing that he was in fact huge as fuck.

"what's the matter baby?" he grins cockily, grabbing your waist again as you hover over him.

"you're s-so big, i don't-"

a loud moan escapes your lips as chris sinks you onto his cock, and you immediately feel him stretching your walls — tears feel your waterline from how big he is, your mouth fixed into a permanent 'o' shape as you adjust to his size.

"c'mon ma, i know you can take me," chris assures you, gripping your waist tightly as a groan leaves his mouth, "be a good girl, remember?"

you nodded, just as chris suddenly thrusts his hips up hitting your g spot which elicits a moan from you as you grip his legs while your head is thrown back — he grabs your chin as forces you to look at him.

"look at me while you ride me, ma," chris instructs you sternly.

your hands still gripping his legs, you begin bouncing up and down on his cock as it abuses your cervix repeatedly — the slapping of skin as well as chris's low moans and your high pitches ones vibrated throughout the tour bus, and you were pretty sure anyone close enough could hear what was happening.

"fuck this pussy feels so good," chris grunts, watching as your tits bounce in his face, his eyes staring into yours darkly, "who's pussy is this?"

"yours chris, all yours," you moan, throwing your head back as you continue bouncing, "m'close again..."

"hold it baby, i'm almost there," chris pants, his hips thrusting upward to meet your pace, "fuck..."

suddenly chris grabs your phone and holds it up, taking a live photo of you bouncing on his cock whilst he leaves another kiss to your neck.

with a few more thrusts, you feel chris's dick twitch inside you indicating how close he is — he finally releases inside you, painting your walls white. your second orgasm washes over you, as your legs shake whilst your juices release all over chris's cock.

chris helps you off of him, and you stand up immediately grabbing your clothes scattered around — chris lands a smack to your ass as you bend over to pick your shirt up. "chris!"

he just laughs as he pulls his pants up, then hands you your skirt as well. you smile up at him shyly as you slip it on — he rubs his thumb across your lip and plants another quick kiss to it as he holds your phone up again.

"sorry i couldn't take it earlier," he says, pulling your body against his.

"it's okay, taking it here feels more intimate anyway," you giggle.

you hold the side of chris's face as he snaps the camera once, then he places a kiss to your cheek as he snaps another one.

"can i use the bathroom real quick?" you ask him shyly, and he nods, showing you where it was.

once inside you hurriedly pee, letting out a sigh as you finish and wash your hands. you look in the mirror at yourself, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you look back at the girl who just got fucked by chris sturniolo.

walking back outside, you look to chris who has your phone in his hand, as he holds it out to you, which makes you smile and walk towards him, reaching for it.

he puts his hand on your waist as he holds your phone above your head, looking down at you with a smirk.

"boy, if you don't hand me my phone back!" you tell him, trying to reach for it which resulted in him holding it higher.

"few more kisses first, ma," chris grins, puckering his lips out making you giggle.

you press a kiss to his lips and pull away, but he quickly dips down to peck your lips a few more times. he hands you your phone back finally, and you smile as you begin walking towards the tour bus's exit.

"your posters!" chris says before you can leave, hurriedly handing them to you.

"thank you," you said, looking up at him, "i enjoyed tonight."

"anything for one of my girls," chris winks with a grin, planting one last kiss to your lips.

you exit the tour bus, looking around for any sign of life before you make your way around the building — you look around, your body trembling from the cold air before a honk of a horn grabs your attention and you gasp, jumping slightly.

"where the fuck were you, y/n?" alize's voice says worriedly, rolling down the window to the uber, "bitch i was looking for you!"

"shit girl, i'm so sorry," you apologize, climbing into the seat of the uber next to her, "i have so much to tell you."

"hoe, you better tell me where you disappeared to," alize whispers to you half angrily, the other curious.

before you could get a word out of your mouth, a buzz from your phone grabs your attention.

unknown

*one attachment*

y/n

chris ??? are those my panties ??? 😭

unknown

didn't fuck anybody else baby, yeah they're yours

need something to remember you by since today was our only la show

y/n

is this you telling me you wanna see me again?

unknown

i'll fly you out to another show if you're down

y/n

only if my girl can come too !

unknown

i'll get you both a plane ticket

y/n

i'll see you soon then😘

unknown

good

send me some pics to keep me company while you not here😏

"bitch what?!"

( lilly's section 💌 )

this didn't come out as good as i wanted it to, but i hope y'all liked this ! love u guys so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mrssturnioloo @mattsturniolosleftnut @sturnprime @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nickgetsmewetter @eyeliketoeatpoosay @e1ias3 @sp3aknaur @middlepartmatt @summerssover @riasturns @sturn777 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @pinksturniolo @chrissturniolossidehoe @chris-slut @hoesformatt @raysmayhem-72 @whosthislyssbitch @lanas-doll @chrisssluttywaist @mbbsgf @jetaimevous @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[joelscruff]

one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE

hi there ! i'm new to the tlou fandom but not new to fic, and watching the show over the past few months inspired me to return to fic writing. the idea for this has been milling around in my head for a good chunk of time now and i finally felt ready to put pen to paper and get this thing started. i've already posted this to ao3 if you prefer that medium, but i'll also be posting it here now. let me know what you think!

summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 2.6k

You don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

It started about a month ago, after all the shit that happened with that monster, David. After Ellie had decided she wanted to start sleeping alone.

It hadn't really been a conscious decision on her part, but you'd noticed that first night how she'd distanced herself from you and Joel when it was time to sleep. She'd curled up against the far wall of the basement with barely a word, shutting herself off entirely while you'd tended to Joel's injury. Prior to this – ever since Joel was stabbed – Ellie had started sleeping at his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart and hoping against all hope that it kept beating. You'd slept a few feet away, hoping desperately for the same thing.

After David, she avoided physical contact entirely. You and Joel wordlessly understood, though you could tell it alarmed and concerned him. Though he'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks you know he'd become accustomed to having her at his side, curled into him with that familiar daughterly affection he'd been missing for twenty years. Seeing her ultimately decide that she no longer wanted that closeness, probably feared it, distressed him greatly.

“Fuckin' bastard,” Joel had murmured to himself that first night as you cleaned his wound – you'd learned what to do from watching Ellie, “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Shhh,” you'd hushed him, keeping your voice low in case Ellie was still awake, “He's dead and gone, she took care of it.”

“Shouldn't have had to,” he'd hissed, “Fuckin' bastard.”

He'd slept poorly. You knew because every so often you'd hear him mutter something else to himself about David between short fits of sleep. You didn't sleep much either, partly because in the wake of Ellie's sudden distance it was now your job to monitor Joel's wound, but also because you felt the same way Joel did. The thought of that monster... what he'd done to Ellie and what he'd tried to do... you'd never felt so much disdain and hatred for one person in your life. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on her blood-spattered face when you'd both found her, the way she'd barely been able to speak... you could only imagine how much worse the images behind Ellie's eyelids were.

So she slept alone now, which meant Joel slept alone.

For a little while, that is.

-

After a few days of short spurts of travel and staying in more abandoned houses (Joel wasn't well enough to walk much, though he tried to deny it, much to the frustration of you and Ellie) you'd set up camp on the outskirts of a small community. Ellie hadn't talked much and Joel hadn't been fully in his right mind since you left that first house, so the decision-making had fallen to you for the time being. Truthfully, you were done with the mouldy mattresses and hard concrete of those suburban basements, the smell of rotting food and being bothered by mice and cockroaches while you tried – and failed – to fall asleep. Neither Joel nor Ellie argued when you suggested setting up a campsite in the woods for a change of scenery.

The snow had melted quite a bit and there hadn't been anything fresh in almost a week, the temperature rising rapidly the further you walked. The idea of sleeping underneath the stars again with fresh air in your lungs and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees was enough to keep you going that day. That night, you'd watched as Joel made a fire with the materials you'd collected, Ellie already bundled up inside her sleeping bag a few meters away.

“Hey, you sure you're not gonna be cold over there?” you'd called to her gently, already knowing the answer.

“I'm good,” she'd replied, sounding earnest enough, “If I get cold I'll move.”

You'd sighed quietly, turning back toward the fire. Joel was blowing lightly on some kindling, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You used this rare moment of him being distracted to analyze his face; the dark circles beneath his eyes had been growing more prominent over the past few days, and he'd gotten into the unconscious habit of blinking very slowly, like he was always just a few seconds from sleep. You'd never seen him look this exhausted.

“You need to sleep,” you'd murmured, and his eyes had snapped up to meet yours instantly, “I'm serious, Joel, you look...”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine,” you shifted your eyesight to the fire, lifting your hands to warm your palms, “You look like you haven't slept in days, which you literally haven't, by the way.”

“I've slept,” he'd grunted, turning his attention back to the fire as well.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes at a time.”

“Well, maybe if I wasn't bein' woken up every twenty minutes by you checking if I'm still breathin',” his voice was hard and cold, but you were used to it.

“Don't be dramatic,” you'd snapped back, “I check you maybe twice a night now, if even that. Sorry for wanting to make sure you're okay.” The last few words had come out shakier than you'd intended.

He'd inhaled deeply, and you could see him looking at you again in your peripheral vision, “You're right, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. As usual.”

“You're not an asshole,” you'd muttered, “you're tired. And so am I.”

You'd sat together in silence for a few moments before Joel had reached behind him for his pack, digging out the blanket he'd started using in lieu of his old sleeping bag. He'd decided to leave that behind; it was what you and Ellie had used to get him back to that first house, the one Callus had dragged across the icy terrain with a bloodied and near-death Joel as its only occupant. He'd pissed himself in it, which he'd attributed as the main reason for leaving it. But you knew the truth: he'd spent too long wrapped up inside of it during that period of time to ever get a good night's sleep from it again. It needed to be put out of its misery.

Both you and Ellie had offered to give him your own but he refused every time, repeatedly stating that the blanket Ellie had found was warm enough, if not even warmer than the sleeping bag had been. You honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he gave you no choice but to believe him.

“You take first watch, then.” he said quietly, “We're out in the open again, gonna have to stay alert.”

“Got it,” you were a bit embarrassed by your brief moment of vulnerability, but you'd quickly busied yourself with picking up the rifle to hold it in your lap.

You'd watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground, carefully kneeling down and wincing at the pull of his stitches. He laid down on the edge of it, then reached over and pulled the other side over his body like a makeshift sleeping bag. Sighing contentedly, he'd closed his eyes.

Despite how much older than you he was, the word adorable couldn't help but cross your mind.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled quietly to you, and you'd forced yourself to look down at the rifle so he wouldn't catch you staring.

“Night, Joel.”

-

You'd quickly learned that Joel's new blanket was in fact not warmer than his sleeping bag. After a few hours of keeping watch, you decided to check on both Ellie and Joel to make sure they were doing alright. Ellie was fast asleep and didn't look to be shivering or experiencing a bad night's sleep; she actually looked more peaceful than you'd seen her for a long time. You'd smiled fondly, fighting back the urge to push her hair out of her eyes; she'd made things very clear and you weren't going to overstep.

You wandered over to Joel and the contrast between he and Ellie was staggering; there was no peace here. He was wide awake, shivering ferociously and hunched in on himself with his hands cupped around his mouth as he blew on them for warmth.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you'd immediately dropped the rifle and leaned down to him, “why the fuck didn't you tell me you were freezing?”

It actually wasn't a very cold night, but the combination of Joel's thin blanket, his injury, and the fact that he was overwhelmingly exhausted were just making everything ten times worse. He also hadn't slept outside for weeks. You immediately began to regret the decision to camp tonight.

“Hold on,” you'd said quickly, scrambling back up to grab your own sleeping bag. You unzipped it so it was wide, then draped it over Joel's shivering form, “I'm gonna give you some body heat, okay? Don't make it weird.” You'd only said the last part because you knew he would protest.

You'd crawled underneath both layers of material and without any hesitation wrapped your arms around Joel, ignoring his shaky mutterings of “I'm okay” and “you don't need to”. He'd surrendered very quickly, relaxing into your embrace as you ran your hands up and down his arms at the fastest pace you could muster. You alternated between his arms and hands, taking them in yours and rubbing your palms against them like you were trying to start a fire, huffing hot breath against his skin. Beneath the blanket, you entwined your legs with his, pulling his socked feet against your ankles and trapping them there to warm them up.

It only took a few moments for the heavy shakes to stop and for Joel's breath to even out again. Despite this, you stayed where you were and kept doing what you could to keep his temperature stable. As he warmed up, he began to feel more like himself; he was no longer a cold statue but the warm and solid man you'd come to recognize, and you were hyper-aware of the fact that despite spending so much time with each other you'd never actually been this close to him. His arms, strong and steady beneath his coat, the same arms that carried around that heavy pack all day, the arms that cradled the rifle, they now laid loose and tender under your touch. His hands, calloused and rough around the edges but soft at the palms, the same hands that set the fire still burning a few feet away, the hands that once held his daughter and had learned to hold Ellie's – and now yours, feeling like in some way they belonged there.

You'd known you felt something for Joel, but you'd never realized how strong and real that something was until it was literally in your embrace.

Without speaking you'd laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes and doing your damnedest to fight back the sudden tears that were threatening to well up. Holy shit, was all you could think, a warmth you'd never felt in your entire life radiating in your chest and somehow extending toward him. Holy fucking shit. It was like time had stopped and all you could feel was him.

You'd looked up at his face, needing to see if he felt it too, felt you the way you felt him, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw that his were closed, mouth slightly agape. There it was, that peace you'd seen on Ellie's face, now transferred to Joel's. For a brief second you felt panic, but it was immediately interrupted by the light snore that emitted from his open mouth. He'd fallen asleep.

And a few moments later, so had you.

-

That was the first night you'd slept solid without waking up even once. Not just since Joel had been stabbed, but since the pandemic had started to begin with. You can't recall ever having such a peaceful, dreamless, absolutely soul-refreshing sleep. And neither had Joel; when you woke the next morning he was still fast asleep in your embrace, that peaceful expression still sculpted on his face like he was a living Michelangelo. In the night you'd only gotten closer to him, legs still entwined and head still on his chest. The only difference was that your arms had obviously stopped their rapid movements to keep him warm, and they'd ended up snaked around his torso, the palm of your left hand laying flat against the hot skin of his waist, just above where his stitches were.

Maybe you should have pulled away when you realized, gotten up and pretended it didn't happen. The thought did cross your mind, but then Joel had shuffled a bit in his sleep and you'd become aware of the fact that his arms were around you, hand pressed flush against your bare back underneath your jacket and shirt, holding you to him. And that was enough to make you stay.

About fifteen minutes later, he'd woken up.

He didn't flinch or yank himself away when he realized the position you were in. He'd blinked slowly at you, and you'd peered up at him just as quietly. His lips had parted and then closed again, as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, he just kept staring at you, and you started to feel his hand on your back slowly and tenderly stroke the skin there. In return, you gently brushed your thumb against the bare skin of his waist. It was a moment that felt like it went on forever, both of you touching those small intimate parts of each other without saying so much as one word.

You felt butterflies in your belly when the hint of a smile twitched at his mouth, and you smiled back, sleepy and soft. You never wanted to leave this small piece of existence. You just wanted him to keep looking at you like that, his gaze holding yours with an expression you could only describe as contentedness. You'd never seen him look so relaxed; the dark circles had faded and even the lines on his face had receded into his skin. He looked younger, healthier, like all the bad things that had happened to him had vanished in one good sleep.

“Uggghhhh,” Ellie moaned a few meters away, and both your heads snapped in her direction. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, back facing you. You could see her arms stretching above her head as she began her typical morning wake-up routine: stretch, groan, flop, repeat.

Without saying anything you'd both untangled yourselves simultaneously before she could see the sleeping arrangement you'd found yourselves in. The loss of warmth and familiarity was palpable as you quickly stood up and grabbed the rifle, walking over to the now completely burnt out fire. Joel silently folded up his blanket and your sleeping bag behind you, then muttered something about needing to look for more shit to burn.

That's how it started.

And you don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

[interdimensionaltales]

Drifting back to you

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x reader

Word Count: 981

Warnings: besides not having been beta, for now, none. (this will probably change in the future)

Summary: What if you were on a quest to figure out why you're so different from your kind and ended up stranded at sea with Sauron himself disguised as a mortal Southlander? What is it that sets you apart? Can you find the answers and accept yourself? Why is Sauron, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, pretending to be a commoner? Trying to forget? Binding his time? Pretending nothing happened? On top of that, there's a force that brings you two together and keeps you both drifting back to each other again and again no matter how much he, or you both, try to deny it. And the power that he feels coming from you may be it or it may be love. That's what you both need to figure out.

PS: This probably has been done before, the idea is not revolutionary. I read a lot of fic, but my ship is Haladriel and other fandoms so I've never read anything like this and I'm a little bitch for someone powerful meeting their equal and questioning everything so... Here we are.

This is the first time I'm trying to write my own, please be kind, but feedback and advice are welcomed. English is not my first language. This fic is intended to be multichaptered, but I figured I'd post what I came up with first to see if I could get a boost or the very least some feedback that would help me to get to a full fic. Anyway, let me know if you guys think it has potential! Thanks for reading!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There wasn't much that could bring you comfort in a strange land, with strange people and their customs. After what you have been through, one would think that any comfort would do. Being stranded at sea has a way of making people seek out the best that life has to offer once back on land, but for you, there wasn't much to find beside the company of the one you were stranded with. Halbrand. The tall brunette, with his calm stance and inquisitive eyes that came to be so familiar now. No matter what wonders you would find on this so-called island of Númenor, you always ended up drifting back to him. So there you were again at his shores.

''It's been a fortnight now, Halbrand,'' you said, pulling out a stool at one of the bar's table, sitting in defeat.'' A fortnight, they said we would be given a chance to get into a guild. What are they waiting for? What's taking so long? What are we supposed to do meanwhile?''

''Enjoy our stay.'' he replied, amusement plastered on his face when he saw the look on yours.

''I have, and now I'm ready to do something more meaningful. '' You sighed. You were so tired of this aimless days filled with ale and idle time. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed answers, you needed to understand what was happening to you and the only way to do that was to get into that tower, the library. ''There has to be a way to speed things up.'' you said and rested your face on your hands.

He looked at you with those lazy eyes, a soft gaze but ever inquisitive. Why were you so set on getting a job? It couldn't be just boredom, otherwise, you would have taken on any other jobs available. It has to be the tower, but what do you want to find there? You were rubbing your face in frustration but that didn't tell him any more than he already knew so he drank the rest of the content in his cup and spoke again.

''There are many ways,'' he said standing up, ''You just need to know how far are you willing to go.''

He gestured to you ''Let's go for a walk.''

Halbrand knew. He knew that whatever it was that he was feeling didn't have space in his life or in him right now. It never had, it couldn't have. He was given a second chance at peace if you could call it given. He should have just left, he should have started putting some distance between you two a while ago, nothing good comes from wanting more than you can have, even worse, deserve it. But there he was, walking around with you, listening to you, being captivated by you, and far worse, wanting to help you get what you want. So he stayed, just a while longer, he did indeed tell you to enjoy things a bit more, he was just following his own advice and basking in your presence while he could ignore that gnawing feeling in him. The one that kept telling him how starved he was of something only you could give him.

''Where are we going?'' You asked taking him out of his reverie. He looked at you and licked his lips, a reminiscence of those unwanted feelings still lingering in his mind and the thought of where you both could go flooded him making it harder to shove those feelings down.

''We are going to speed things up'' He said making his way into the busy streets. ''More often than not, life is nothing but a trade, ''he continued. ''If you want something you need to know what to give in return.''

''Halbrand,'' you called struggling to keep up, ''We can't buy our crest, there's nothing we can give in re-- Sorry.'' you said bumping into a stranger, which made you fall behind a bit so you rushed to catch up with him. ''Even if we could,'' you continued zigzagging your way into the crowd so you were just a couple steps behind him, ''We don't have any-'' when he turned around and you ran into him, your face right into his chest. ''-money.'' He held you in place by your arms, balancing you. People going around you both in the crowd. You were never this close to him before. Sure, on the raft, you had to sleep side by side for the lack of space, but nothing like this. You were so close you could taste the salt on his skin, he smelled of smoke, leather, and iron. You were just about to evaporate into smoke too if it wasn't for the feeling of those callous hands on your skin, condensing you into form. Taking a sharp breath, you looked at him. He was looking down, his gaze fixed on your face. A battle raging in his hazy eyes

The way you were pressed against him made him never want to let you go, he had barely managed to shove those feelings down, and with one touch of you, he was lost in it again. What was this? All he could think about was how he wanted to keep touching you. The softness of your skin was a foreign concept to him, nothing in his later life has ever felt like this. It made him think of before, of the beginning. Enough! This is madness. There's no going back and no way this could work. It took all the strength in him to let go of you. It's a waste of time, he thought, there's no way I deserve this. ''Let's go'' he said, but took your hand nonetheless, guiding you through the crowd.

[garoujo]

HOW LONG THEY LAST DURING NNN — GENSHIN IMPACT

feat : scaramouche, diluc, childe, al-haitham + kazuha

♱ warnings — f!reader, how long they last during no nut november, teasing, degradation, some grinding, not proofread. / note. this is the last fandom 4 the nnn hcs ! hope u guys enjoy <3

・✶ ｡ﾟ SCARAMOUCHE — NOVEMBER 12TH

it was your idea at first and as much as scaramouche didn’t want to do it, you know you had him when you told him he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway — his pride not letting him back down from a challenge that he was so hellbent on winning. he was stubborn, would never let it known just how much you had an effect on him (even though you could tell) but when you had first proposed the challenge, you never told him it was going to be easy — afterall where’s the fun in that when you could up the difficulty with a little teasing. you’d be going without him too afterall.

scaramouche had done pretty good at avoiding you this far, brushing you off with grumbles under his breath — he wasn’t stupid, he knew that you were trying to get him to give in, so selfish despite the way this was all your idea in the first place. but he’s not as invincible as he may think, he still had his limits and with enough effort you noticed a few cracks were beginning to show.

“pathetic… could barely keep your hands off of me.. are you that eager for my touch?” scaramouche breathes unsteadily from where he’s sat at your side, eyes narrowed over at you as you palm and stroke at his clothed cock — deliberately pressing your hand against it when you’d leaned in to show him something and now he doesn’t want you to fucking stop. the almost smug look on your face makes his blood boil, but he’s much too consumed by the saccharine squeeze of your fingers around him to think up a snarky remark right now. instead you feel him throb before he chokes on a whine and lets you trace your fingers beneath his waistband. “barely two weeks in and you’re getting all worked up, hah—have you always been this weak? hmmfff—“

・✶ ｡ﾟ DILUC RAGNVINDR — NOVEMBER 18TH

kaeya had mentioned it to diluc in passing while he was at the tavern, drunkenly rambling on about how his dear brother is too whipped to stand a chance and your boyfriend is much too stubborn to let the cavalry captain rile him up — so he decides he’ll show him. he warns you in advance, makes sure to fuck you until you can barely walk the night before and it does take his mind off of it for a few days, that’s it though until his cravings for you return with a vengeance.

but diluc knew he was in danger when it comes to you, knows he can’t resist you which is exactly why he’s been taking up more shifts at angels share — coming home late at night with a press of his lips to your temple and leaves before you wake up with the exact same goodbye. he missed you, but he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance if he had you sending him those pretty looks that make him feel so fucking weak.

this is why diluc knows he’s fucked when you visit him at work, his cock already hard as soon as he catches a glimpse of you coming through the tavern door and he has to swallow the groan he feels kick at his chest when you blink at him over the bar. “did.. ugh, did he put you up to this?” he grunts as he presses you against the desk he has hauled up in the back room, his hips flush against yours as his large hands grab and rip at your clothes — so eager to undress you and ease the throb in his cock that only intensifies with every grind of his bulge into you. “it’s true, i can’t deny what you do to me afterall, sweetheart.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ CHILDE / TARTAGLIA — NOVEMBER 21ST

as if he would ever pass up an opportunity to test his limits, plus childe is always looking for an excuse to be able to tease you, and himself considering he’s told himself this’ll help him get stronger. he actually does a lot better than you thought, even goes as far as to make it harder for himself — letting his hands smooth along your body, touching something he knows he can’t have as he bites down on his bottom lip and feels his cock fucking leak against his slacks.

but maybe childe had gotten a little too cocky, worked himself up a little too much until he was wound up tight — particularly ruthless when it came to training new recruits or seeking out fights with whoever looks at him the wrong way. that’s when his facade had slipped, when he’d been particularly riled up after a fight — still high on adrenaline when he sends you a hooded look, one that’s still a little wild as he approaches you quickly, like he’s a wild animal who’s finally caught a glimpse of his pray.

“oh, come on now. aren’t you gonna beg?” childe grunts from where he’s pressing himself up against you — his chest flush against your back as he lets you feel the way his cock is uncomfortably throbbing between you both, begging for the much needed friction that he’s too eager to chase right now. “i’ve been quite formidable, don’t you think?” he’s breathing hard as he stuffs his face in the crook of your neck, rutting his hips into you while his hands squeeze at your hips. “so then amuse me.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ AL-HAITHAM — 1ST OF DECEMBER

al-haitham lasts the whole month, if you were to ask him how he’d did it he’d probably drone on and on about the preparations he’d taken, the science behind it and how easy it was for him. but you know that he’s lying to some extent, even when he was pretending to be oh so focused on the book he was reading you weren’t blind. one quick look over your shoulder wouldve let you see the way his sharp gaze was only focused on your hips and ass, bulge prominent as he lays back in his seat with a low hum. “tell me now, is that all you’ve got?”

but as much as al-haitham was smart he was still human, and there was a few times he couldn’t help but fight the carnal urges to reach out and grind his cock against you — do anything to feel the tight squeeze of your cunt around him like he yearned. he’d made sure to fuck you a day before the challenge began, getting it out of his system before the inevitable purge but even just being in your presence had him in a constant state of being so fucking needy.

so you almost jump when al-haitham basically slams the door to your bedroom open just as the last day in november ends, his steps are heavy and he can feel the throb of anticipation straight through his cock as he approaches you — fingers gripping around your jaw to tilt your face to his before he’s kissing you fiercely. “well would you look at that, told you i could do it.” he grunts as he looms over you, already pulling at your clothes before his own follows — groaning with the slightest graze of his cock along your thighs. “well now sweetheart, i think i’ve earned a reward.. don’t you?”

・✶ ｡ﾟ KAZUHA KAEDEHARA — NOVEMBER 14TH

kazuha honestly didn’t think he’d be able to do it, he was entirely addicted to you and your cunt but the team were placing bets and he’d been a little tipsy when he’d agreed and didn’t want to be the first one to lose afterall. but it’s just as hard as he imagined it would be, he can barely even look at you without his gaze becoming heavy, cock twitching and begging for him to reach out to touch you, to have you and take you like he desires but he also can’t stand the chuckles from the surrounding crew.

that is until you’re finally both alone for the first time in two weeks, kazuha had went out of his way to make sure this didn’t happen but he couldn’t stand not giving you the attention you deserved, it only taking a particularly pretty look from you to have him crumbling. but he should’ve known this would be the outcome when you decided to take your place pressed up against his side, arms wrapped around his waist so tight he can barely breathe — but that’s probably due to how much he needs to cum right now.

“now would be the best time to rest well.” kazuha breathes, low and ragged as his chest expands with each inhale he takes and he’s sure you must be able to tell the effect you’re having on him right now. but his words only seem to draw you closer, your fingertips resting against his thigh to squeeze at the skin — close enough to have his hips twitching before he whimpers and clenches his jaw. “ah.. i see, you are relentless.” your fingertips only crawl closer and he can’t stop the way his hand rests over yours instinctively to hold you there, letting you palm and stroke at his cock before he cums in his pants with a long and low whine.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[sunny-mercya]

Sensitive Heart

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Sidney had become quick to learn, that you're a rather sensible—if not even overstimulated sensitive—boy.

Most things; be it a large crowd, people accidentally bumping into you or someone saying something you had difficulty to understand—hell, even the most mundane compliment; you look really good today—brought you to tears.

And on some days, wether if they are bad or good ones, you would cry for an eternality of hours—exhausting yourself with a sore throat sobbing.

Throughout the school years, you had spend more time in the nursery office thanks to this—whatever and however it's called, Sidney doesn't bother to remember—than being actually injured.

Tatum, who had heard from Stacy—and she had it being told from Mackenzie, who had gotten told it from Helena—the nurses daughter—told Sidney once, that your over sensitivity of personality has been coming from your mother.

Your mother who had pampered you into a suffocating and constant anxious panic. She was a kind soul, with her off shrugging absently affectionate, but treating you well still.

Although, when you were at the age of ten—having been in the hospital again, because of your mother—your father had enough, filled a divorce and complete custody over you and told his ex-wife to leave.

So now, Sidney had to endure your tears filled stuttering jumble of words while accompanying you, yet again, to the nurse office.

Please god, she thought, end me. Holding back a groan, simply nodding along to what you're trying to say. If she's telling you to shut up, you would probably cry a flood then.

~~~

The cold wet washcloth always felt good over your burning irritated eyes. Cooling them off and bringing a sort of pain relief to them.

Mrs. Westbrock had left the office, after assessing you down onto the bed and giving you a glass of water and headache-pills. Nothing new, a normal occurrence for you to be alone—till school hours ended—in the nurse office, when you had another rather server breakdown episode. Then again, every episode brought you to the office.

»Aww, at this point you should ask the Director to let you live rent-free here« Stu did his best to lower his voice, when stepping in. Knowing well how headache prone you would get and he also knows how loud his voice can be.

It must be lunch break or a free period or study all, otherwise Billy and Stu wouldn't be able to visit you. Then again, you wouldn't put it pass them to just skip a lesson or two—and you knew they had done already more than once.

»What was it this time babe?« asked Billy, sitting down onto the chair. Someone would say his tone, when asking you this question, is coming off as annoyed, rude and tutting. It wasn't. It was Billys way of asking you how you are and what the cause was.

You shrugged at him, rubbing your eyes and sitting up a bit—letting Stu prep kisses onto your face.

»I.....don't really remember anymore.«

Billy hummed, knowing well it was lie of you, watching you and Stu, the both of you conserving now over some Cartoon.

»Did Jules brought you here?«

»Nu-uh, it was Sydney,«

Billy nodded, they all were somewhat friends with Sidney, though somehow she always seemed to be irritated annoyed by your mere presence—not that you took notice if it, always busy to greet everyone happily, even when it was hard to do for you.

»[Name]. Tell us, what made you cry.« a bit demanding harsh he sounded, but how would he know if Billy didn't use a dominant force to bring you to speak.

»It, it–it was, someone talked about–about how killing is, is–is something and I got upset over it, because they talked so causally about it, but killing is–is–is bad and taking–taking a humans life is cruel«

You broke into another, new, round of tears. Sobbing into Stu's arms, who cooed at you lovely and giving you sloppy kisses on the cheeks again.

Oh, how innocent sweet you are. Thinking so naively and thoughtful about the world. Aren't you adorable?

~~~

It was weeks after, when Sidney came to the conclusion that the ominous masked—dubbed as Ghostface—killer, who tried to killer her, is Billy Loomis.

Sidney, when she got the chance, pulled you into an empty classroom, cornering you. Doing her best to look as threatening as she could, to make you confess.

She always found it strange how Billy (and Stu) could love someone like you—someone who's a crybaby, skittish and meek in personality. Too Sensitive for a boy to be.

But then she thought, you're the perfect alibi for Billy or perhaps even someone who knows that Billy is the murder.

»You know Billy is the killer, don't you [Name]?«

»What? What are you talking about Syd?«

»It's Sidney. Billy is the killer and you're either good at pretending to play clueless dumb, which you are though, or you're his partner. There aren't any other options.«

Sidney hated it how you pronounced her name so dumbly wrong. It's a simple name, how hard could it be to say it right? Apparently hard enough for you.

»Accusing someone, a friend even, of something so horrific is a cruel thing to do.«

»Oh? I didn't knew you could speak english without stuttering in sobbing.«

Your lips begun to wobble, biting softly onto them to stop the starting trembling—which would soon racked through your whole body. Eyes getting wet, tears ready to spill.

Sidney had no rights to accuse Billy like this and neither had she the right to be this mean to you. You hadn't done anything to make her upset, so why does she say such things?

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, gripping your arm tight when you were about to bold off.

»We both know I'm right. Whether you like it or not.«

You freed yourself from her, jerking your arm out of her grasp and bolting out of the room. At some point colliding with Jules, who was looking for you, scrambling up again and running even faster away.

A lie. It's a complete conspiracy bullshitting lie, what Sidney had said to you. It wasn't true, Billy isn't a killer.

~~~

»I'm home!« greeted Billy once he had open the front door and stepped in, closing if afterwards. Getting out of his jacket and hanging it up on, he made his way towards the kitchen.

Leaning against the frame of the kitchen-door, Billy watched you, smiling at the sight of you cooking today's lunch—dancing slightly to the music which the radio plays.

»You need help, darling?« he admits, spooking you up like this was—the way how you jerked together into surprise—always a fun thing to do.

»Oh, Billy! How was work? Sure sure, you can set the table and please get Stu« you pecked his lips, when he leaned down, snatching a piece of bacon from the cutting board.

»Where is he?«

»Upstairs, doing the laundry.« you had long returned to the cooking, resuming with what you had stopped.

Billy passed through the living room, stopping at the commode in the hallway, next to the stairs.

Photo frames over photos frames filled the commode, telling their own stories—from their graduation, first house, to marriage, to their honeymoon and then to their Kids and their first kindergarten and school day to the here and now.

There was one photo in particular, which both Stu and him are very found of. It still confuses the kids, who couldn't figure out why a photo of you crying was a found memory to keep and share.

To the kids they had told a story of how they always found it adorable, just how bunny like you were and wanted to capture the moment.

In truth though, it was the moment when the broke you—your spirit of will—and had you forever to love.

It was after Sidney had inflicted your pure heart with self-doubt and questionable unbelief towards Billy. You confronted him, breaking out in hysterical when Billy bluntly admits it with a shrug and when you were about to call the police—Stu stepped in, holding you tight in his arms as you trashed in his hold and shouting words at them you never wished to say again.

They had to break a few of your bones, scaring and threatening you completely in submissive—because if they don't, you wouldn't be able to continue with going to school with them and enjoy life, if they didn't had done it this way—they had to kill you and that would be a shame. After all you're their precious little darling.

It took a few years—after framing someone else for their killings and making Sidney an implausible witness in the polices eyes—to shape you into what your are now; a good submissive husband, who showers them in unconditionally love.

»[Name]'s adorable, isn't he Bills?« Stu trotted down the stairs, flashing a grin at Billy.

»You're right, he really is. I was just about to get you, laundry-boy«

»Funny, man. Urgh, my back hurts. I never do laundry again«

After lunch, when the kids had retired into their rooms or going out to spend time with friends. You and your husbands sat on the couch, cuddling against another and watching another round of romance movies.

Even after all these years, you couldn't stop your sensitivity and the spilling tears from your eyes.

Billy and Stu wouldn't have it any other way. They adored you how you are, in their eyes you're perfect.

»Have I told you, just how–how much I love–love you two?« you asked them in between sobs, romantic movies always made you so moody.

»You do plenty of times, precious. We love you just as much in return.«

Both Billy and Stu pressed a kiss against your lips, tasting your salty tears.

You're their little bunny.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

[blackbleedingrose]

Long Lost Morningstar - Part Four

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Seven Virtues' x reader (platonic), Charlie x reader (platonic), Lucifer x reader (platonic), Lilith x reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst/Betrayal

Warning(s): Cursing, lies, betrayal

Notes: FINALLY! I'm sorry this took me forever to post. I was, and still am, dealing with some school stuff. Truthfully it was a little rough trying to get this one out - along with school and work, I am losing motivation to write this. It could be that I burnt myself on Hazbin after reading so many fanfics for days on end until I eventually got tired. I'm still going to be writing this either way, I'd feel bad to suddenly stop out of nowhere. Funny thing is I'll probably feel motivated again once the second season airs. Oh, well. I'll post part five when I can and am able, so please bare with me and hopefully enjoy this long part for the time being. Thank you for your support - I'm really writing this for the ones reading this series and am grateful for your patience.

Words: 3,298

"I-Is that. . . my name? W-Why would my name be in Lucifer's court record?".

After learning about the exterminations (Y/N) wasted no time flying to the archangels' castle - her home.

She needed to know if they knew about the exterminations, and if so. . .

No, there's no way.

The Virtues' duty were to help remain peace and order - there's no way they'd be okay with the murdering of sinners.

Still, the fear and pain she felt for Charlie and Sera's betrayal made her impulsive.

So much so, that she flew past the archangels' secretary and burst through the doors of the meeting room where they were discussing important matters.

The archangel's were shocked to see (Y/N), who had just interrupted their meeting, looking completely disheveled and breathing heavily.

This behavior would normally be unacceptable, and if it were any other seraphim or angel they would be scolded and punished depending on severity of the offense.

But this was their little (Y/N), whose never interrupted their meetings without reason (or when she was a curious infant who somehow wandered in).

Michael stood up from his seat and flew over to his distressed daughter, "(Y/n). What's the matter?".

(Y/n) struggled to catch her breath, her mind and heart racing.

Michael placed his hands on her shoulders, "Deep breathes, sweetheart. Try to calm down". He gently cooed at her trying to help her find her breath and calm her nerves.

When (Y/N) had finally caught her breath she looked up at her father staring right into his eyes, "Did you know?".

Michael furrowed his brows confused, "Know what, sweetheart?".

(Y/N) took a deep breath before looking at him with sorrowful eyes, "About the exterminations."

Michael and the other archangels' were even more confused than before, "What exterminations?".

"The exterminations of the human souls in Hell."

The archangels' eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Michael looked down at his daughter with slight sternness, "What do you mean?".

(Y/N) went on to tell them all about what had happened at the trial from Charlie's hotel, Angel Dust, Sera's betrayal, to Adam's threat towards her cousin.

To say the archangels' were pissed would be a gross understatement.

How dare Sera and Adam play God and order such an atrocity right under their noses - and for it to be going on this long!

They were embarrassed to have been so ignorant.

Michael felt very uneasy about (Y/N)'s interaction with the Princess of Hell.

Yes, he had been aware his brother had birthed a child in Hell and hadn't seen an issue of (Y/n) of knowing as he was confident the two would never meet.

Well, that back fired horribly.

He couldn't discuss that with (Y/N) right now because, other than letting curiosity get the better of her once again, she hadn't done anything wrong.

She was clearly out of sorts with worry. She didn't need anything else but reassurance and comfort.

"Thank you for telling us. Don't worry, we'll be sure to handle this," Michael said trying to comfort his daughter.

"B-But, Charlie," (Y/N)'s breathing spiked, "A-Adam threatened t-to, to!". Tears flowed down to her red cheeks, her eyes red and puffy.

Michael gently shushed her wiping her tears, "Calm down, sweetie. We'll handle everything, especially Adam. Just go to your room and try to relax. I'll tell the staff to get you some tea."

(Y/N) shook her head, "B-But I need to help Charlie. I-I need to do something -,"

"No." Michael's tone was stern but gentle. "This is for the higher ranking angels to handle and you're too emotional right now to think clearly. Let us take care of this."

"Listen to your father, (N/N)." Azrael said his grin more menacing than usual. "And don't fret over Adam, we'll make sure to deal with him personally."

The other archangels' agreed without question. Adam wouldn't get away with making their precious niece cry.

(Y/N) realized her father was right, she was too emotional right now.

She was in no condition to deal with this as she was.

After saying goodbye to her family, (Y/N) went to her room to try and calm down.

Feeling completely exhausted and emotionally drained, (Y/N) passed out the second her head hit her pillow.

The next day (Y/N) woke up later than usual and saw a note on her beside table.

It was from her father telling her not to worry about her duties that day and to just rest.

(Y/N) was grateful to her father, but she was so restless about the trial and the upcoming extermination.

She got ready for the day and went down into the courts archives.

Maybe there was something she could use in the courts records to help Charlie.

Since she was a stenographer, a seraphim, and Michael's daughter no one questioned her being there.

In fact, many of the simps angels there were more than happy to help her.

(Y/N) declined most of their help, not wanting to garner unnecessary attention to what she was looking for or why.

She continued doing this for days making sure to cover her tracks so her father and uncles didn't catch wind of her little excursions.

Which was why most of them were in the dead of night.

She hadn't heard a word of what her father or uncles' were going to do about the exterminations.

But the times she's seen Adam and Lute, the two were still their cocky and douchey selves.

So, she knew the extermination was still on.

Why?

Why haven't the archangels' done anything yet?

What were they waiting for?

A small part of her wondered if they ended up agreeing with Sera and Adam and wanted to keep the exterminations on, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

The archangels' duty was to follow the laws of Heaven, and the exterminations clearly went against that.

There's no way they'd be okay with keeping it going.

Still. . . they weren't working fast enough.

The month was almost over.

So, she continued researching wanting to find anything that would prove Sera and Adam wrong about Hell and prove Charlie's hotel worked or could work.

One night while everyone had turned in, (Y/N) snuck into the ancient archives - court records that dated over billions of years ago.

Maybe there was something in the older court records she could use.

She spent hours going through file after file, pulling out possible references to use, and making piles based on the dates.

The long hours started to get to her, the bags under her eyes more prominent with each passing minute.

Without realizing, her eyes lids shut and she slowly drifted to the side accidently knocking over a large pile she hadn't checked yet.

*THUD*

The sound of the falling files scared her awake.

"Oh shit!"

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes awake before going over to the scattered files. She really hoped no one had heard that thud.

As she was gathering all of the loose documents, there was one file folder that caught her eye. Labeled on the tab was 'Morningstar vs Heaven'.

Morningstar? That was Charlie's last name but this file was in one of the older court piles meaning this file was about -

"Lucifer. . .".

She's never read her uncle's trial record before. . . but if he was anything like Charlie then maybe there was something in those documents that could help her prove her cousin's dreams and beliefs.

After all, it was because of Lucifer's desire and dreams to show humanity free will that gifted humans the ability to dream and choose to be better.

She knew her father would frown at her view on Lucifer, but she had always thought there might have been some merit behind her uncle's choices.

She started to collect the documents, sometimes glancing over certain parts that caught her attention. However, as she was going through the files she saw something in one of the documents that she had never expected to see.

"I-Is that. . . my name? W-Why would my name be in Lucifer's court record?". (Y/N) bit her lip deciding if she should look through it or not.

In the end she decided to go through with it and read the document. It was probably nothing, just her mind playing tricks on her. She had been up for hours, after all.

However, the moment her eyes scanned through each line her heart dropped into her stomach.

Sera: Take the child.Court angels: (takes the infant (Y/N) Morningstar from the arms of her parents, Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith)

"P-Parents?".

The rest of the documents recounted Lucifer and Lilith's guilty verdict, their sentencing to Hell, and the courts final proceedings.

(Y/N) wanted to refuse everything she had read, wanting to call it all lies.

But stenographers, especially in Heaven, cannot lie when recording. The magic imbedded within the typewriter wouldn't allow it.

Still, it just couldn't be true. . . Maybe this was another (Y/N), one she's never met. There was no way it was talking about her.

However, before (Y/N) could attempt to convince herself even more she noticed one final document lying on the floor. She recognized what kind of document it was immediately.

It was a Heavenly Ordinance.

She slowly reached for the golden paper and started to read it.

"By Heavenly decree, it is now ordered that all residents, and new ones to come, are forbidden from tempting humanity or breaking Heaven's rules. All residents must obey and turn from all misguided thoughts, dreams, and or endeavors. All violators will receive punishment. It is also ordered that the Heavenborn seraphim, (Y/N) Morningstar, is now under the care of the Seven Virtues; specifically Archangel Michael Demiugros. The infant's name will be changed to (Y/N) Demiugros. The child will have no connection to Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith, and will be told Michael Demiugros is her father/parent who crafted her from stardust. All Heavenly residents aware of the child's true lineage are forbidden from speaking on the matter. All violators will be punished severely."

(Y/N) felt like she couldn't breath.

Her hands were shaking, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oh, God.

She wanted to deny it and believe all of this was some sick prank.

But even she knew no one in Heaven would dare fake writing a Heavenly Ordinance, let alone play such a cruel prank or joke.

Besides, the Heavenly Seal at the bottom of the document was proof of its authenticity.

Heaven would never allow a fake to be placed with the court records.

It took a while for her to calm down.

Looking at the clock mounted on the wall, she saw how late it was.

The court angels who had the early morning shift would be here in two hours.

Wiping the tears that had gathered in her eyes, she used her magic to help clean up her mess and put all of the documents back into their original places - except for one.

When she started to put Lucifer's file away, she stared at the ordinance.

She paused for a moment before folding it up and shoving it into her pocket.

After everything was put away (Y/N) went back to her room with her mind buzzing and heart racing.

She woke up five hours later to the sound of her alarm.

She felt absolutely exhausted.

At first she thought it had all been a dream, a really bad dream.

But when she checked her pockets and pulled out the folded up golden paper, she knew it wasn't.

She was heartbroken.

The feeling of betrayal and hurt plaguing her soul.

Why?

Why did they lie to her?

Why did they do all of this?

Now everything made sense.

Why she was so restricted from practically everything.

Why everyone in her family kept her so close and away from any of the higher seraphim duties.

Why she really looked like Lilith. . .

To top it all off, the person she had believed to be her father this whole time was actually her uncle.

She truly didn't know how to feel, and she wondered if Charlie knew.

Probably not given how shocked the Hellborn had been to hear she had a 'cousin'.

Though, now she knew why she felt such a strong connection to Charlie.

They were sisters.

And if Charlie hadn't known about her, she doubted Lucifer or Lilith did.

She wondered what else Heaven has lied to her about.

. . . Did they even love her?

If she really was the spawn of the ones who damned humanity, did they only keep her for their own benefit?

Have they actually hated her this entire time?

These thoughts brought tears to her eyes.

The rest of the day as she continued on with her duties, she thought back to her family and her newly discovered ones.

Whenever she interacted with her family in Heaven, she did her best to keep up appearances.

There was no way to tell what would happen if they found out what she knew.

So, she decided to bite her tongue.

No matter how much she wanted to scream and cry.

She wondered if they were even going to do anything about the exterminations.

She was starting to doubt it since she hadn't heard anything new; though, would they even tell her?

And Adam and Lute were as smug as ever.

That made her angelic blood boil.

Did they really hate Lucifer, Charlie, her, and sinners so much that they would allow this atrocity to continue?

Even though it went against everything Heaven stood for?!

No.

(Y/N) wouldn't stand for this.

If she was going to help Charlie, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Luckily, Michael and her other uncles' taught her basic combat.

Hopefully that would at least help her fed off a few exorcists.

The next few days leading up to the extermination, (Y/N) secretly stole some angelic armor and weapons.

She eavesdropped on Adam and Lute trying to find out their plans and the exact time of the extermination.

She even continued to gather information for Charlie to help prove her hotel could work.

She acted as she usually did in front of others to avoid suspicion.

She planned to sneak out the night before the extermination to help Charlie and her hotel prepare for the fight.

She was a little nervous about seeing her newly discovered sister, and possibly her biological father, but she knew she would have to suck it up and wait until after the battle was over.

The morning before the extermination, (Y/N) felt more than prepared - she had everything she needed before tonight.

Everything was going according to plan.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Michael asked the court angel who seemed to be a bit out of sorts.

"W-Well, sir, there seems to be a document missing from one of the court records".

Michael rose a brow, "Okay? Which records?".

"U-Um. . . one of the ancient records, sir."

'Ancient records?'

Michael's brows furrowed - why would a document be missing from one of the oldest records in Heaven? Hardly anyone uses or reads them. They're mainly there as historical records now.

"Strange. . . Which record was it then?"

The court angel gulped, "U-Um. . , i-it-"

Michael glared slightly annoyed, "Just say it!"

"I-It was from Lucifer Morningstar's, s-sir!"

Michael's eyes widened, "Lucifer's?"

"Y-Yes, sir. We noticed some of the court records had been a little out of place the past couple of days, but thought nothing of it as everything was neatly put back. But this morning one of the court angel's found a feather between Lucifer's record, and when they opened it they saw one of the documents inside was missing."

Michael frowned, "Which document?"

". . . The Heavenly Ordinance, sir."

'The Heavenly Ordinance? Why. . . Why would anyone take that?'

"This was the feather that was found inside the court record."

The court angel presented Michael a singular feather. It was beautiful and the design looked very familiar -

Michael's breath hitched as he looked closely at the feather. He snatched the feather out of the court angel's hand looking at it even closer.

'No, no, no - it can't be!'

Without another word Michael flew out of the room leaving very confused and concerned court angels'.

'There's no way! She cannot possibly know!'

Lost in his own frantic thoughts, Michael failed to notice a certain archangel in his path, and proceeded to crash right into him.

"Woah, Michael! What's the rush?" Azrael asked wincing from the impact.

Michael looked at his brother, fear in his eyes, "Azrael. I-It's terrible. . . (Y-Y/N). . . S-She-"

"(Y/N)? Did something happen to her?" Azrael asked worried. He's never been his brother so distressed before.

"S-She. . . She knows."

Azrael furrowed his brows, "'Knows?' Knows, what?"

"About Lucifer. . . the truth about Lucifer and Lilith."

Michael proceeded to tell Azrael the events that happened taken place in the courts archives.

"That's strange," Azrael hummed. "Just as strange as the report I just got that some angelic armor and weapons are missing."

Azrael saw Michael's expression morph into one of absolute horror and waved his hands trying to dismiss his brother's thoughts, "But it could all just be a coincidence!".

Placing his hands onto Michael's shoulders, Azrael looked into his eyes, "Michael. You know (Y/N). As curious as she is, she's not reckless or stupid. She knows her place in Heaven and wouldn't dare ruin that. Have more faith - after all, you are the one who raised her."

Michael calmed his nerves as he listened to his brother's advice. He's right. (Y/N) was raised right and she would never do something that would jeopardize her place in Heaven. Someone else had to have misplaced the document, armor, and weapons.

. . . Still. . .

He couldn't shake off the ugly feeling in his gut.

Hours had passed and it was now late into the night.

To everyone around her (Y/N) was her normal graceful, polite, and dutiful self.

Almost like she hadn't been stressed out the entire month worrying for her cousin, who she recently discovered was actually her sister, and finding out her entire life has been a total lie.

She really played the part of the obedient seraphim quite well.

But right now, she was anything but.

Right now she was the sleep deprived heartbroken, scorned girl who no longer knew who she was or who she could trust here.

But, she was going to find out.

While the rest of the castle was asleep, (Y/N) changed from her night gown into light but durable angelic armor.

She wore her long blonde hair in a high ponytail and carried a long angelic spear on her back (along with a few angelic daggers and a whip on her hips).

Once ready, she quietly unlocked her balcony door trying to make as little noise as possible.

She could feel her nerves shake.

She's never been in a real fight before.

She knew what she was doing was dangerous; and if found out, could lead her into a world of trouble.

Looking back behind her she glanced over her room.

Her eyes landing on a picture frame found sitting on her vanity.

It had a photo of when she was little.

In it she was hugging Michael with her favorite duck plushie in her arms.

They both had such big smiles.

Sadness filled her heart as tears pricked her eyes.

Had it all been a lie?

Well. . . either way, she would find out later.

Charlie needed her right now.

She smiled sadly at the duck plushie laying in her bed silently wishing for luck.

Steeling her nerves, (Y/N) internally prepared herself for the battle ahead.

What she wasn't prepared for was to come face to face with Michael the moment she turned around.

Taglist:

@soobryu @kyo-kyo1 @miyako-night20 @charliecharlie65 @unknow-sama @myluckymoon @lbcreations-blog @moonchaos18 @sirenetheblogger @jagharamira @el-hajj @azharyy @glowymxxn @itsmonicabc @lxkeee @aria-tempest @glowinthedarkbones1150 @sashaphantomhive @0strawberrysorbet0 @serenity-loves-red @snowy-violet @aishallnotbefound

[five-bi-five-mind]

Can i request toxic ex!wanda trying to get reader back no matter what it takes after doing her wrong and not knowing her worth? And reader just being extremely mad and done with wanda. I'd love to be manipulated by her 🥰🤝

Me & the Devil

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Genre: Dark fic (seriously dark!!) + Smut & Angst

Words: 11.5k+

Summary: It took everything ounce of strength you had to leave Wanda behind. When you did you tried your best to rebuild a life for yourself without her. You had a new career in a city far away and you were trying to restart your love life too. Only it was going horribly for you so far. Until Kate Bishop happened. Was she going to be the person to finally get you over Wanda? You thought so, until Wanda showed up at your door. And when she did, nothing prepared you for the measures she took to get you to let your guard down...

Warnings: toxic!Wanda; strap-on use (r receiving); face-fucking/riding (Wanda receiving); unhealthy relationships; oral (Wanda receiving); fingering (r receiving); choking; dub-con; kidnapping; non-con voyeurism kinda; alcohol mention; stalking; top!Wanda; bottom!r; dom/sub dynamics; tiniest bit of mommy kink...

A/N: lol this is the darkest thing I have ever written... you said toxic ex!Wanda and I really gave you toxic. Maybe it's not quite the request you asked for but... oops. But seriously folks take the warnings serious!! And tell me if I need to add more.

It happens almost every single time. You were starting to think there might be something seriously wrong with you to be ghosted so often. This was a pattern at this point: You’d connect with someone and meet up for a date. The date, in your mind, would go amazingly. Both of you would laugh and chat and they’d usually be the one to say something like “let’s do this again��� and you’d happily agree. But then after you both part ways and a few days pass there’s no text, no call, no signs of following up on that hopeful promise to meet again. You’d text them once, maybe twice if you really felt strongly about meeting, but still you’d be met with nothing. You got ghosted. In the past six months, this has happened way more times than you’d like to admit. The first two times, you could convince yourself that they just weren’t that into you. It wasn’t you, it was probably them. But then it kept happening and happening and happening. How long could you say it wasn’t you? What were you doing to repel so many people? 

After the last date you went on and then were subsequently ghosted, you were really considering giving up hope. But then somehow you got convinced to try again. This time it was a little different though. It wasn’t someone you met on a random dating app or a girl who happened to randomly pass her number to you at a coffee shop or a bar. No, this time it was someone you actually kind of already knew. It was someone you worked with, someone you already had a sort of established friendship with. 

Usually, you’d be hesitant to agree to dating someone who had a professional relationship with you. Not to mention, she was kind of above you in the chain of command at your work. But when Kate Bishop waltzed right up to you and asked you out she was so charming and kind. She reassured you she would understand if you said no and that nothing would be weird if it didn’t work out. She smiled at you in the most endearing way and never failed to make you laugh even from your very first day working with her. Why wouldn’t you say yes? Honestly, you were just shocked she saw you as anything more than a work friend. So yeah, you decided to agree to a date. After all, it would be incredibly hard to ghost someone you have to see regularly at work. If things didn’t work out, she promised you’d still be friends and it wouldn’t affect the workplace. And while, yeah, a lot of people probably say that, you really believed that she meant it.

Prepping for the date had you honestly giddy this time. You asked some friends to accompany you to the mall so you could buy a nice outfit. When you asked what the date would be, Kate gave you the name of an entirely too expensive restaurant. She promised it would all be on her dime, no matter how much you protested. Her exact words were that she wanted to “sweep you off your feet” and you couldn’t help the blush that reached your cheeks when she said that. So, if you weren’t paying then the least you could do was invest in something nice to match the place she was taking you to.

Honestly, you were actually really excited about all of this. You had never thought of Kate as more than just a coworker, but you were really ready to see where this night could go. It felt like a turning point for you after all you had been through. Six months of getting ghosted was one thing, but all of that really added salt to the wound that was your horrible breakup that happened prior to all of those failed dates. This would be different though, at least you hoped. While you didn’t get to know all the other people who ghosted you well enough to know their character, you did know Kate. She was almost the exact opposite of your ex. She was kind and patient. She wasn’t so damn serious all the time either. Wanda was… well, you didn’t even know where to start. She was cold, she was controlling, and more than anything she had a darkness in her that put you on edge. She didn’t seem to listen to you and only wanted to pay attention to what you had to say when you said that you were leaving her. It was like all you were was a toy to her and it made you miserable. The fights you two had towards the end still shook you. When you and Wanda got together it all happened so fast. One day she saw you and then suddenly she was everywhere. In a blink you found yourself in a relationship with her and you didn’t even know how it all happened. 

Not that you didn’t want to be with her. You had loved Wanda. You had loved her so profoundly, so deeply, so painfully that it was all you knew when you were with her. But then she grew different. More controlling, less caring. After a while you realized it wasn’t the healthiest situation to be in and you begged her for a change. Maybe you would’ve stayed and even dealt with her temperamental nature if she at least opened up to you, but it just didn’t feel like an equal relationship. She expected too much from you with nothing in return. It didn’t feel like love anymore, it felt like ownership. That change you pleaded for never came, so finally you pried yourself away from her.

The thing is, you knew once you left Wanda, you really had to leave. It wasn’t just that you packed your stuff and found an apartment. It was that you picked up your whole life and moved it to another town across the country. You found yourself an apartment and a job before you even left to make sure you had stability and wouldn’t chicken out. That was ten months ago. It took you four to feel like even trying to get back out there. Even though it went rather horribly up until now, with Kate, you thought maybe you could be ready for something real again. 

Except, when the night you’d found yourself eagerly waiting for came and went with no sign of Kate, all those thoughts of restarting your romantic life plummeted. You had gotten to the restaurant, donning the beautiful dress you had bought for this very night. Bragging wasn’t really your thing, but as you got ready and gave yourself a once over in your apartment, you thought to yourself that you had this in the bag. If she was going to sweep you off your feet with a nice night out, you were gonna make her jaw drop with the way you’d make your entrance. 

Admittedly, you were early to the restaurant than Kate requested you meet her at. She had a reservation for the both of you so when you walked in you immediately asked to be seated. You couldn’t help the way you fiddled with the silverware in front of you as you anxiously waited for her to slide into the chair across from you. Only when the agreed upon time came and went, you felt that pit in your stomach that said your hopes were about to be shattered. At first you told yourself it was Kate, she was often a little bit late to just about anything. But then ten minutes passed and then twenty and suddenly you were feeling embarrassed and sick to your stomach and furious all at the same time. You paid for the glass of wine you had ordered and nervously sipped on before walking out of that gorgeous restaurant that promised a fabulous meal with nothing but an empty stomach. 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine that you had mixed with a lack of food or the fact that your eyes were already tearing up in anger just the tiniest bit when you told the waiter you wouldn’t be eating, but you weren’t pleased. As you stormed your way out of that restaurant and waited for an uber to take you home, you didn’t hesitate to shoot Kate what was probably the tenth text in a row. Each one was a little more angry than the last. Of course, it didn’t start out angry. Your first few were concerned but a little joke-y, but then when it became apparent she wasn’t anywhere to be seen, well, then you didn’t hold back too much. 

What was work going to be like when you finally saw her on Monday? You had this naive little idea in your head that you and Kate would hit it off so well that she’d want to spend the whole weekend with you. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you really thought you could predict that you and Kate would fall into this crazy, cliche romantic relationship after what was supposed to be a dazzling first date. Honestly, you had kind of expected to not be going home alone, or maybe not going home at all. Kate even joked as much when talking about what to expect for this date. You had rolled your eyes at her bluntness, but if you were being honest with yourself it had given you a little thrill. 

All of that is gone now. The uber picked you up and dropped you off and all the while you somehow managed to keep it together. The tears that threatened to slip through back at the restaurant had been restrained as you sat alone in the back of the car and blankly stared at the thread of messages you had sent to Kate. They all sent, but the last message to be read by her was the one you sent saying you were on your way. Fucking typical, she chickened out at the last second and couldn’t even tell you to turn around.

The more you thought about it as you climbed the stairs of your apartment complex, the angrier you got until you could tell the emotions you were holding back were starting to overflow. Damn, you had been actually excited for this night. Yeah, when you matched with people and agreed to a coffee date with the others you had a little excitement for them too, but not like this. Not like Kate. She felt like this beacon in the darkness that was the last ten months. She felt like she was the one to pick up the pieces from what your last relationship did to you. How could you have been so wrong? 

Now, instead of having a crazy romantic night like you had hoped, you were going to change out of your gorgeous outfit and fall apart alone in your bed in your coziest pair of pajamas. It was a pathetic way to spend the evening, you thought to yourself as you got closer to your unit. How could it possibly get any worse?

“(Y/N),” A familiar voice said from right behind you as you approached your door. You hadn’t realized anyone was even behind you as you made your way to your apartment, so the presence of anyone was going to make you jump out of your skin. But when you heard your name being called your blood ran cold and alarm bells went off. Surely it couldn’t be who you think it is…

You whipped around so fast it made you lose your balance on your heels. A hand shot out quickly though, wrapping slender fingers around your elbow and steadying you. “Hey,” the voice said and you swallowed hard. 

Now that you were face to face, the source of the voice was exactly who you thought it was. Wanda stood there entirely too close to you, with her hand still wrapped around your arm. All you did was gawk at her, in utter disbelief of the turn the night just took. If there was anyone you were expecting to show up, it was certainly not her. You had hoped, as you made your way back home in disappointment, that Kate would be waiting right outside for you. Of course, knowing your luck these past few months, it was the last person you’d ever want to see showing up after such an awful night. 

The circumstances alone made you want to double over in fits of laughter. It was all so just on point with how your life has gone since you left her. Of course Wanda would show up after yet another failed attempt to move on from her. It only feels even more like a cruel joke from the universe that she shows up before you can get home and wipe your face of the frustration tears that you shed as you stomped up the stairs to your apartment. 

It took you a moment to realize that Wanda still had her hand on you and you ripped yourself away from her as if her touch suddenly burned. She didn’t seem phased by your actions, but instead was wearing a surprisingly soft expression. It seemed to add to your embarrassment and frustration. 

There was a moment where you thought maybe you should say something. Right now, the only one to speak was Wanda and all she had to offer after showing up out of nowhere was a measly “hey” so there was a lot that needed to be said right now. For starters, maybe you should ask how the fuck she found you. It wasn’t like when you two broke up you readily gave her your address. In fact, you didn’t tell her much of anything when you left. You knew she had a business trip scheduled for the same time every quarter. So, you took her absence as a means to pack your stuff in a flash and leave. It was that trip that allowed you to prepare, you had given yourself a deadline to find a job and an apartment and leave and that’s exactly what you did. The only thing Wanda knew when she left for that trip was that you were incredibly unhappy with her, to which she just rolled her eyes as she walked out the door. That was the last time you saw her. 

As you settled into your new place the same day Wanda was returning for her trip, you had left her a note and that was it. When that first night alone without Wanda came, you knew she saw the letter. There was one call from her that lit up your phone that night. You ignored it and that was that. She didn’t leave a message and to your surprise, she didn’t try again. 

You thought the book was closed on that relationship after that. Apparently, tonight as she stood right in front of you for the first time in almost a year, you were very wrong about that fact.

“What do you want, Wanda?” You cleared your throat as you spoke. It was rough, you were trying to sound strong and demanding. But after fighting back the urge to sob the whole car ride home, your voice wasn’t coming out the way you wanted. 

“It’s been awhile,” She gave you a small smile, but you didn’t miss the way she absolutely dodged that question.

“Why are you here?” You pressed again. Although, you honestly weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer. There were two reasons for that. The first being, you were in a vulnerable state and just wanted to crawl into your bed and lick your wounds. The second being, again, you were in a vulnerable state and if she said the right things she could take advantage of that. She always knew to say the right things. Being near her right now was dangerous. Not only because you were so unprepared to see her again, but because you were feeling so utterly hopeless and your pride was, at this point, completely shattered. 

“I wanted to see you.” Wanda still had that hesitant smile on her face. She looked down at you as if she was actually nervous. Like she was trying to approach you with the utmost caution in fear that you would flee at any second. She wasn’t entirely wrong to think that either, because you were ready to run. Except, she was standing right at your doorstep, so where exactly would you run? You could close the door in her face and lock her out, but you knew Wanda. She was nothing if not persistent. 

There was no response to that statement that would make you feel any stronger or even saner. You wanted to keep your dignity, even if you already looked pretty distraught. So instead you just exhaled, long and slow, before turning to your door.

What was your game plan right now? You couldn’t really tell. It was going to be a horrible decision if you let Wanda take one step inside your apartment, but you had a feeling that was her ultimate goal. Right now, you were running through different things to say. All you could really land on was pleading with her to meet you another day, when you’re less upset and tired. Maybe if you promised her you’d meet with her she would agree. Of course, knowing Wanda, if you said you’d grab coffee and catch up (which is a much friendlier way of putting what would inevitably be a very awkward conversation) she would hold you to that. But anything would be better than letting her slink right on in through your front door.

“Let me help you with that.” Wanda was directly behind you now, her hand reaching out to touch yours. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking so hard until you were trying and failing to get your house key into the lock. The way her hand wrapped around yours as she steadied it and guided the key in, surprisingly helped ground you. It was the familiar touch, even if it was brief and innocent, of her hand on yours that suddenly felt like you were able to catch your breath. 

It was like a shock to your system and now all your nerve endings were finally waking up from a long sleep. It was a weird rush, no matter how brief, to feel with the warmth of her palm pressed to the top of your hand. Accompanied with that was the buzz that you always felt when she was in your personal space as she leaned closer to you from behind. And just like that, once the door was open, her hand slipped from yours and it was all gone.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a minute and took a deep breath. The rush of feelings with just that small of a touch from Wanda was not a good sign for you and definitely not a good sign for your will power either. 

Wanda waited patiently behind you as you began to take the first step into your own apartment. To your surprise, when you turned back around to face her, she hadn’t crossed the threshold. Knowing Wanda, you had expected her to push her way in, to already have one foot in the door as she convinced you to let her stay. But no. Not this time. Instead, Wanda stood there patiently, her eyes boring into yours as she studied your face.

She still had the posture and facial expression of someone who was trying to be incredibly delicate. It was as if she was totally aware that she was walking on eggshells and, for the first time since you’ve known Wanda, she actually cared not to misstep. You were surprised to see her at your doorstep tonight of all nights, but even more so you were in complete disbelief at how patient she was being. If you were to have bet your money on anything, it would have been that the next time you saw Wanda she’d tear you a new one. Maybe she’s changed. Maybe this is why she didn’t contact you after that first night when you left. Was there hope that she could’ve taken a step back and looked at the way she treated you? Why did your brain automatically go to this idea that she actually took the last ten months to work on herself and now she was back to apologize and show you she’d grown? 

Your last thought shot anxiety straight through your veins. That was a slippery slope your thoughts were going down. A slope that might lead into you crashing painfully into the emotionally unavailable wall that was Wanda Maximoff. Except, she was still waiting there, with bright shining eyes that told you she was just relieved to finally see you again. And you, well, you were just standing there in the gorgeous dress you spent way too much money on for a girl you’d known for ten months who didn’t even have the decency to text a rejection to you after promising you the night of your dreams. So why not let the woman who did actually show up and was trying to be kind to you in for the evening? And what’s one more glass of wine? At least this time you’d have company so you wouldn’t just be drowning in your pain and humiliation. 

“Do you…” You paused for a moment watching Wanda’s face for any signs of insincerity or some kind of nefarious plan. She looked back at you with nothing but a soft smile and hope in her eyes. “Do you maybe want to come in for a bit? We can- I dunno… talk?”

“I’d love that.” And just like that you watched as she entered your apartment. When you got this place you had made one promise to yourself and that was to never let Wanda in if she ever found you. You had thought that the minute you’d let her back in she’d consume your life all over again. But here she was, at your doorstep, acting like a completely different person and suddenly that promise to yourself went out the window. You were so taken aback by her patience and gentleness with you in the brief time you’ve been reunited that you didn’t think to ask one important question. How the fuck did she find out you lived here?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, she just never showed?!” Wanda leaned back in shock as you nodded vehemently. You two were currently sitting on either side of your couch, with half a bottle of wine already gone through. It had started out as small talk once she entered your apartment. Yes, it was awkward at first, but at least the wine had loosened up some of your nerves. Wanda seemed more relaxed than you had ever seen her. You never thought you’d be describing her this way, but she almost seemed bubbly. It was like a whole new Wanda was sitting right next to you and you were loving everything you were seeing.

The conversation stayed on you the whole time, which also was a bit surprising. Wanda wanted to know how you were doing and even praised you for how independent you had become. It was shocking, but with every proud smile she gave you, you felt your heart swell with pride for yourself as well. 

Somehow, eventually, Wanda asked you why you were so dressed up. That’s when you were surprised by the wave of guilt that hit you in the gut. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s been almost a year, so there was nothing to feel remotely bad about. Except, when she asked you that question, you looked down at your lap and fiddled with an invisible string while you mulled over possible ways to respond in a way that made you feel less ashamed.

To your utter surprise, Wanda didn’t even flinch when you decided to tell the truth and confess that you had a date with your coworker who didn’t show. Instead, the part that made her so emotional was the fact that Kate stood you up in the first place, not that you would have a potential new romantic partner that wasn’t Wanda. Where was all the possessiveness she usually showed? You haven’t had the chance to ask Wanda what she had done in these past ten months apart, but you had a feeling you were in for a long, inspiring story about how she’s ready to be a better woman. Even if you didn’t know the full story, you could see in the way she was upset for your pain and only your pain that she had really grown. It was this change that had you so mesmerized by her. It was this display of compassion for your bad night that had you scooting closer to her until your knees were touching. And when Wanda’s hand, after waving in shock as you admitted that you still haven’t gotten a single text from Kate, had innocently landed on your bare knee just below where your dress ended, you didn’t move it. 

“Well, she’s made a huge mistake,” Wanda shook her head. “I mean look at you…” The hand that wasn’t on your knee motioned to your whole body. 

“I know! I paid a lot for this dress, you know.” You giggled, shocked that the sting of tonight’s rejection wasn’t quite as strong as it was a few hours ago. 

“And it was worth every penny.” Wanda’s eyes darkened slightly as they raked up your body. “You look… fucking incredible.” Her voice was slightly lower as she said those last two words and suddenly you felt something shift. It was like something heavy filled the air, an electricity that was almost too much to bear.

Wanda looked back up and locked eyes with you. That gentleness that you had seen all evening was replaced with something else and suddenly you realized you were currently standing on a metaphorical cliff, one more step and you were about to fall right back into Wanda. 

But then she leaned forward and you found yourself leaning too. She was right there next to you, with barely any space separating you two. The smell of her familiar perfume suddenly felt stronger and had your head swimming. The warmth that radiated from her presence was blanketing your entire body, and all you wanted to do was close the gap. Why not jump off that cliff? Obviously, nothing else you’ve been doing has worked so far. This was a sign, the girl you were excited for didn’t even have the respect for you to show up, but who did show up? Wanda. And the whole time she’s been sitting and listening and not pushing anything. She’s changed, that’s what you wanted. You had told her as much when you had all those arguments up until the end. Sometimes it takes a major leap for someone to right their wrongs finally and that seems like what was going on here. That’s what you hoped was happening. So why not indulge? You closed the gap.

The way Wanda let you come to her was surprising. Old Wanda was usually too guarded to let you take the lead, but she was letting you now. Your lips met hers in a hesitant kiss at first, but soon it grew into more. It was familiar and new all at the same time. You surged forward and tangled your hands in her hair and all the while Wanda let you. When you leaned back, pulling her with you, your lips still connected, she happily followed until she was hovering over you. Not once did either of you break the kiss. It was soft, but still had a hint of desperation on your part. Wanda let you take the lead, with your tongue tentatively running against hers when her lips parted for you.

While Wanda’s willingness to let you take the lead shocked you, she still showed that she was enjoying the kiss just as much as you were. When your head met the arm of the couch and Wanda’s body came with you as you leaned back, you felt the way she rolled her body into yours. It was a subtle movement, but you could tell it was her way to get as much contact between the two of you as possible. Meanwhile, the more Wanda pressed her body down against yours, the more your dress rode up. You were so lost in the way Wanda’s lips felt on yours that you jumped when you felt her knee press between your legs. That act felt like someone pouring ice cold water straight on your body.

“Wait!” Your voice was muffled by the way Wanda was still trying to kiss you, but when you pulled back she stopped. Your hands moved down to push at your dress, trying to cover more of you as Wanda shifted her weight so she could still hover over you but get some distance from your face.

For a moment, as you looked up at her, both of you breathing hard from the intensitive of it all, you thought you saw a flash of anger appear in her face. It was brief. A blink and you’ll miss it kind of moment, but you swore you saw it. It was like a crack in the perfect Wanda that sat with you all night. You had stopped the kiss because you thought it was going too far for one night, but when you did you were hesitant if it was the right call. Now, even though admittedly you could be wrong, you were glad you stopped. 

If there was one thing you recognized on Wanda, it was the look she’d get when things didn’t go exactly the way she wanted them to. When you pulled back, it was such a brief moment, but you could’ve sworn you saw that familiar look. But then she was looking back down at you again with that gentleness you had seen all night, except this time things felt different. It was like all the warning bells were going off in your brain now. Something inside your mind told you that you had fallen into a trap and now you were too far into it to get yourself out.

But then another part of your brain wanted so desperately to shake that off. She had been so gentle with you, so kind and caring. It was a whole new side of Wanda and it was one that you had dreamt of for so long, especially in the early months after your break up. It wasn’t even like she was the one who started the kiss. You kissed her. Not only that, but you were the one to pull her on top of you. It wasn’t like it wasn’t enjoyable. It was everything you missed. It was fucking fantastic. Still, something told you to watch your back. 

You were trying so hard to shake that paranoia off. It was probably just a new form of trust issues you’ve developed after being rejected constantly for the last six months. Yeah, that’s what it had to be. Right? 

A moment passed and neither of you had moved after you had tried to push Wanda back. She remained hovering over you and suddenly you felt so small lying there beneath her. Finally, you pressed a hand to her chest, trying to indicate to her to move off you. She didn’t budge.

Instead, she stayed there, staring down at you. The look of anger never came back, but that gentleness wasn’t there either. It was all replaced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place as she cocked her head and flicked her eyes to where your hand pressed against her before looking back at your face. 

It seemed like she was calculating something. Like Wanda was trying her hardest to plan her next move with you and was weighing her options. It was in that very moment that you realized the gentleness, the patience, the lack of anger when you told her you had tried to start dating again, all of that was an act. She really was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and she had you pinned right now. 

A shiver ran down your spine as that realization sunk and it did not go unnoticed by Wanda. It was like a spark that lit a fire in her, when she saw you react like that. You were helpless underneath her and that was all it took for her innocent facade to melt completely away. She leaned back down, attacking your lips with her own in an instant. 

Your hands braced against her chest as she leaned back down, putting more of her weight onto you as she kissed you. Every alarm was going off in your mind as she kissed you with an intensity that had you spinning. Your mind told you to push back, to make her stop, but then it was always this shift in Wanda that got to you. She was kissing you with that same passion that had you weak at the knees. You always hated how possessive she was with you in public, but in private it always had you reacting in a way that you really should’ve felt more shame for. And she was kissing you with that same, desperate, possessive energy you wished you didn’t miss. 

The hands that were bracing Wanda’s chest were now grabbing at the fabric of her shirt as her tongue licked into your mouth. Her knee went right back to where it was, pressing in between your legs. You groaned against her mouth when she pressed it a little harder and you could practically feel how smug she was when she felt your hips roll onto her leg to gain more contact. 

Wanda pulled back on her own this time. You were breathing hard and you could tell your face was flushed from how worked up you were just from a little bit of contact and her kiss. “This is going better than I thought it would,” Wanda let out a low chuckle as she knelt above you. You gave her a skeptical look as you tried to catch your breath. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight, but I guess I didn’t need to try too hard to remind you.”

“Wh- What are you talking about? Remind me?” You stammered, your head swimming.

“That you’re still mine,” she hissed.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you. None of tonight with her had been real. She hadn’t changed, you had just felt sorry for yourself and were vulnerable so you let yourself dream and pretend. Now, you were facing the consequences of your actions. You had fallen back into Wanda and backpedaled on every little bit of healing you had done after leaving her. The worst part was, as she looked down on you with such self-satisfied triumph, you weren’t sure if you could claw your way back out again.

You sat up then, trying to squirm your way out from under Wanda. She didn’t move, but she did let you. When you tried to stand from the couch, it felt like your legs were going to give out from under you. She had you so disoriented from her whole act that you could barely stand on your own two feet. 

“I think…” You kept your eyes glued to the floor as you spoke. “Wanda, I think you should leave.”

“Oh?” Wanda cocked her head to the side as she stood up too. You had taken a few steps away from the couch, but Wanda was quick to rid you both of the distance you had so desperately tried to create. “I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Yes, it is.” You weren’t convincing. Anyone would be able to tell you were two seconds away from buckling again and begging for forgiveness. This whole scenario felt disturbingly familiar. 

“I don’t think so,” Wanda taunted. She took another step towards you and you stood there frozen. “I think you’re dying to beg me to stay.” The once exciting charge in the air changed even more until all you felt was the painful buzzing in your ears as your body shook with an excitement you were trying so desperately not to acknowledge. It was impossible to ignore though, especially when Wanda was stepping up into your space again, brushing her whole body against you as she slipped behind you.

“No…” you whimpered your response to Wanda, but even you knew you sounded pathetic.

“Shhh,” Wanda cooed. Her hands moved to brush hair from your neck before you felt the tips of her fingers dance on the exposed skin. You still stood there, locked in place, trying to hold back a shiver as Wanda’s lips pressed to your neck from behind. Your eyes screwed shut when you felt her brush them up to your ear. Her breath against the shell of your ear made you shiver and your hands balled into fists. “Do you really want to be alone tonight?”

She was turning your vulnerability against you. Of course you didn’t want to be alone tonight. But did you really want to spend the night with your apparently still toxic ex-girlfriend? As much as you wanted to say fuck no, you did. God you wanted her. Maybe you had never really even stopped wanting her.

You didn’t have to answer for Wanda to know exactly what you were thinking. She had her hooks into you and you were hers again. Or maybe you were always hers and even when you were free from her you never really were. With how easily you fell back into her after almost a year, you were starting to think you were really overestimating how much progress you made.

Wanda’s lips brushed your ear before you felt her hands on you now. They were making their way up your body, starting at your waist and moving to your chest in a way that almost made you feel manhandled. “You’re going to have to convince me,” Wanda’s voice was sickeningly sweet in comparison to the way she groped and squeezed at your breasts through your dress. 

“Get on your fucking knees,” Wanda growled, the false sweetness leaving her voice and being replaced with a demand that had you jump. To your surprise it was like your body was compelled to do exactly as she said. You dropped to your knees and she stopped in front of you. The grin that spread across her face was menacing enough to make you gulp. She had a glint in her eye that told you any sort of soft, caring charade she had when she appeared at your door was long gone. No, that was all an act to get you to invite her in and invite her in you did. Now you were at her mercy and the thrill of that was clearly getting to the both of you.

As ashamed as you should be to have fallen back into Wanda Maximoff like you said you never would, you couldn’t help but feel anything but nervous anticipation. She licked her lips as she looked down at you. You squirmed under her gaze as you knelt there. Wanda took another step up until she was towering directly above you. Her hand shot out and immediately tangled in your hair, yanking your neck not-so-gently to look directly up at her. She smiled at you, all her teeth showing as she smirked. “Good girl.” She purred. 

Wanda’s hand moved from your hair to stroke down your cheek until she reached your lips. You stared up at her, utterly frozen, as she traced your lips with her fingers before uttering one word. “Open,” she demanded and you did exactly that without hesitation. Two fingers slid into your mouth, the whole time she never broke eye contact. Your body was trembling slightly from where you knelt in front of her and as her fingers pressed down on your tongue you instinctively began to suck. 

A sadistic chuckle left Wanda’s lips as she looked down at you. “Looks like you haven’t forgotten your place.” Her voice was low, threatening almost. Your face flushed, but it was like your brain wasn't in control of your body anymore. Suddenly, you were on some kind of autopilot, fulfilling the role Wanda always wanted you to take. The worst part was, you were okay with it. You didn’t realize you even missed it, but then again you caved so easily to her. Of course you missed it. No, actually you craved it. Your whole being ached for it. 

Wanda’s fingers pushed into your mouth a little deeper and you continued to let her. Not once did you break eye contact, even as Wanda’s twisted smile grew. Finally, after a moment, Wanda pulled her fingers from your mouth, only to grab your chin and keep your head tilted upward in a painful position. “It’s too fucking easy,” Wanda sneered.  She let go of your chin then and you took a moment to look down and give your neck a break. 

You didn’t notice then that Wanda was backing up from you for just a second. When you ran your eyes up Wanda’s legs to meet where her hands were you realized she was tugging at the buckle to her jeans. You watched with wide eyes as she undressed in front of you before stepping right back up to you. All the while, your mind was screaming at you to put a stop to this. All you had to do was kick her out, right? So why did you just stay on your knees and stare? 

“Wanda, maybe we should-” You were cut off by the hand that shot out and tangled in your hair again, giving it a hard tug.

“Shhh, baby,” Wanda cooed. “Let me use your mouth for something else.”

You flushed and those alarm bells in your mind sounded louder, but still you reluctantly nodded. There was something deeper inside you that said you needed this. You needed to please Wanda. It felt so horribly wrong to give into this feeling that you thought you had buried deeper inside yourself. But then Wanda was tugging you closer until suddenly you were between her legs, being practically smothered by her already wet pussy and all of those alarm bells silenced all at once. That feeling you thought you had buried got stronger with the way Wanda was rolling her hips against your face and your hands went out to brace yourself on her thighs. As she began to ride your face the moans she was letting out were just spurring that feeling on until nothing felt wrong anymore and everything about tonight felt just so fucking right. 

You were surrounded by Wanda. Her hands held your head still as she fucked herself on your mouth and all you could do was take in every moment of Wanda as she used you. And it was fucking glorious. You didn’t think you could miss something so much and be totally unaware of it. Or, it wasn’t that you were unaware… It was that you got so good at ignoring it that when you finally acknowledged your need to indulge in your Wanda problem it woke back up with a roar. 

Wanda’s hands were tugging hard at your hair as she kept riding your face. She was moaning your name as she moved and you did your best to encourage more of the sounds she was making above you. Your tongue lapped hungrily at her clit as best as you could with each time she would grind down onto you. You didn’t even care that you were being slightly suffocated by her. Wanda was overloading all your senses right now and all you could do was greedily accept it. It was like a fucked up rush of twisted joy was coursing through your veins as she practically fucked your face. She was using you like an object, no ounce of gentleness left in her as she got herself off, and meanwhile you were just happy to be useful. 

The part of your brain that should feel shame for all of this was finally, utterly switched off as Wanda repeated how good you were being for her and how much she missed your mouth when she came all over your lips. Her hips stopped after a moment and she released your hair. You took in large gulps of air you didn’t realize you needed until you felt the burning in your lungs. Wanda also seemed a little frazzled, like the intensity of her own orgasm had taken even her by surprise. But after a moment of catching her own breath, she slipped back into the collected, controlled Wanda you knew. 

“Get up,” Wanda ordered and you did what she said. Your legs felt a bit weak as you struggled to stand, but Wanda was on you in a second, steadying you by the elbow so that you didn’t topple over on yourself. It was the smallest action that didn’t even really mean kindness, but you were so far gone into Wanda again that even that made your heart swell. 

“Take your clothes off and meet me in your bedroom.” Wanda’s hands were back on you, already tugging at your dress and pulling it off for herself without waiting for you to fulfill her request. You did the rest before looking back up at Wanda. She looked at you with an excitement that had you curious. Seeing the curiosity in your eyes she answered before you could even ask. “I have a surprise for you.”

Your eyes scanned the room you two were in. How did she have a surprise when she came here empty handed? 

Wanda’s grin grew wider until you started to feel the drunkenness that came with being with her start to get replaced with something else. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom,” She winked.

“Waiting in my…” You were trying to connect some dots. 

“Bedroom,” Wanda finished. “Now, come on.” You felt like your whole body had stalled as you tried to think through things. How was there a surprise there left by Wanda? She hadn’t left your sight since she showed up at your door. 

Wanda tugged on your hand and you realized she was pulling you in the exact direction toward your bedroom. Your apartment had multiple rooms: one your office, one your bathroom, and one your bedroom. So how could she possibly know to go to the right one? Your stomach dropped as she tugged you closer. 

You started to drag your feet and Wanda paused for a second, looking back at you with thinly veiled frustration.

“How do you know where my bedroom is?”

“Lucky guess,” She shrugged and you could hear the irritation in her voice.

“Wanda, what’s waiting for me in there?” Your blood ran cold as you asked that question, realizing you were suddenly terrified of the answer. 

“A surprise.” Wanda’s voice was devoid of excitement as she said it this time. You realized she was getting angry and this was your warning to stop pressing. But there were two things wrong with this moment right now: What was behind your bedroom door and how had Wanda been in there without you noticing?

“Wanda, have you…” You didn’t want to ask it, but you had to. “Have you been here before?”

Wanda snorted at that and gave a hard tug on your hand, pulling you with surprising force right up into her personal space. Her hands then moved to grab hard at your hips so that she could press her own bare body into yours without you being able to escape. “Stop acting stupid,” Wanda leaned forward to whisper into your ear, her voice eerily sweet. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“W-What?” It felt like the air was knocked out of you. Wanda’s nails dug into your sides as she held you there. 

“Did you think I would just let you leave?” Wanda chuckled. “I’ve been here, waiting the whole time. I know you could feel me… Especially at night.” Wanda’s nails dragged up your bare skin. “When you were alone. I know it was me you were thinking of.”

A flush grew on your cheeks and you wondered, with horror, how much of what Wanda was saying was a guess and how much of it was her watching you when you never even knew. 

“Why now then? Why reveal this to me now?” That’s what was really bothering you. Somehow, the rest of this wasn’t surprising. It was on brand with how she was before you left her. Controlling and secretive. She hadn’t changed a bit. Right now, you were shocked and furious, but still you couldn’t silence the fucked up voice deep inside you that said you wer relieved she was back. Wanda was a piece of you that you desperately wished you didn’t need, but as much as you tried to tell yourself you didn’t belong to her, tonight proved that you might always feel that way. 

“Because,” Wanda seemed to be blatantly annoyed with you now. “That girl was getting too close this time.”

Kate. You had honestly forgotten all about Kate. Letting Wanda touch and use you had wiped any thoughts of any other woman out of your mind. In fact, until this moment,  you forgot that you should feel angry and embarrassed for being rejected and stood up. You had just been so lost in Wanda’s return that everything else melted away. But now… Now you weren’t feeling anger towards Kate. No, with the way Wanda spat out the word “girl” as she spoke, you realized she was probably well aware of who Kate was. You were concerned. 

“What?” You ripped yourself from Wanda’s grasp and took a few steps back. “Wanda, what did you do?”

“Only what I had to.” She followed each of your steps with a long stride of her own. “She wanted what’s not hers. I couldn’t have that, now could I?” The way she was looking at you as she cocked her head to the side sent a chill down your spine. Maybe this wasn’t actually the Wanda you knew. Maybe she had changed. When you were together you had seen a lot of sides of her, but not this one. This one made your palms sweat and your stomach turn. You’d never seen Wanda hurt another person, but just because you didn’t see it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of it. What did she do to Kate?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Wanda scoffed. “She’s not dead.”

Thank fucking god, you thought. Maybe Wanda was just exaggerating. Hopefully, Kate was just fine. Although, your gut was telling you everything wasn’t quite that simple.

“You’ll see,” Wanda reached out her hand and cupped your chin. Your eyes met hers and you saw the sadistic twinkle in her eye as she grinned down at you. “It’s part of your surprise.” 

You gulped at that, not liking the sound of it one bit. At this point in the night you made a lot of choices with Wanda already that you promised you wouldn’t do and the way she was acting now was making you sick to your stomach. She needed to leave, tonight needed to be over. Tomorrow you’d go to work and hopefully see Kate there in one piece. And if she was then you’d apologize profusely for whatever Wanda did to scare her off from your date. 

“Wanda, you need to leave.” As much as you tried to sound commanding, your voice was weak and shaky. Wanda’s smirk just grew and you realized now she was looking at you like you were her prey and she was about to pounce.

“Now, now,” She tsked as her thumb went up to press against your lips. “It’s really hard to take you seriously when you still have my cum glistening on your lips, pet.” 

You tore your head away from her and wiped at your mouth, as if that would make any difference in erasing what had just transpired between you two. You let her claim you, you let her mark you. You almost let her take you to your bedroom and fuck you senseless until the pain and humiliation of tonight were washed away. Of course, now that humiliation was back tenfold and mixed with it was a gut wrenching fear for Wanda you had never felt before. 

“If I had let that girl show up for your… date,” Wanda practically spit the word out. “Then, you wouldn’t have gotten a taste of mommy’s cum now would you?”

You were speechless. The way she was talking, the way she was acting. Was this how Wanda was all along? It made you scared, so scared that you quaked where you stood. But also… the way she had been handling you all night, claiming you, mixed with the glint in her eyes as she realized she had you right where she wanted you and the demanding tone she was taking… As sickening as it was, it excited you. 

Like a light switch the frustration left Wanda’s face and was again replaced with the excitement she had before. Wanda’s hands were back on you, turning you around and leading you back towards the dreaded surprise that awaited you in your bedroom. Despite what it all meant, you let her guide you without any more protest. “Close your eyes,” Wanda whispered in your ear. “And don’t open them until I tell you to.”

For whatever reason, you did exactly what she said. It was like you were wired to obey her. Like someone else stepped inside your body and now you were doing all the opposite things you should do. Except, you couldn’t blame anyone else but yourself. You knew, this was all you. This was why you ran, because you were Wanda’s little play toy and you wanted to be more than that. At least, you thought you wanted to be more than that. 

The creak of the door swinging open brought you out of your thoughts and you knew your way around your apartment well enough to know Wanda was leading you to your bed. With both her hands on your shoulders, she pushed you down until you were forced to sit on the edge of your bed. Still, you kept your eyes closed. No matter how anxious you were, you were going to be good for her. You needed to be good for her. 

You could hear Wanda take a few steps back from you, but you still had no idea what this surprise was. Something told you, in your gut, that it wasn’t going to be a good one. Yet, still you were so ready to accept whatever Wanda had to give you that, with a wave of shame, you didn’t think you cared whatever it might be. 

“Open them,” Wanda ordered. You opened your eyes slowly, just as you were told. First, you just stared at Wanda. She was beaming as she stood in front of you. Then, you turned your eyes to the side and practically leapt out of your own skin. “Do you like it?”

All you could do was sit and stare. There she was, Kate Bishop, bound and gagged. She was helplessly facing where you sat, restrained on your own office chair. You should’ve felt embarrassed or ashamed that she was seeing you in such a state of undress, but you were still in way too much shock to process much of anything. 

Wanda, in the meantime, was circling the bed. You didn’t really pay much attention to her at this point, still just fixated on the way Kate pulled at her bindings, trying to lean towards you. Kate’s eyes, at first, weren’t even looking at you. They were glaring at Wanda, as if she was trying to break free and protect you. But you knew. You weren’t the one in need of protection. Even in Wanda’s grasp, you knew that in her twisted possessive mind, it wasn’t you she felt threatened by. It was Kate. The woman who, as Wanda saw it, tried to take what was hers. 

You felt a dip in the mattress as Wanda crawled to you from the other side of the bed. Once she reached you, she stopped, kneeling directly behind you. Wanda’s hands came to circle around your waist and you let her. Your mind hadn’t told you to do anything to stop her, to take any kind of action at all. The logical part of your mind told you to untie Kate, but then a larger part of you, the part that told you that you were way too far gone, demanded you don’t displease Wanda anymore. 

Hands moved all over your body, running up and down your sides, groping your breasts, nails leaving marks in their wake. It was causing Kate to practically growl through the cloth muffling her mouth. 

“Oh, look at her,” Wanda pretended to pout as she cupped your chin and turned your head to meet Kate’s desperate eyes. “The poor girl is in love with you. She thought tonight would be the start of some big love story. She was stupid enough to brag about it with anyone who would listen. Too bad she doesn’t know you’re really just a pathetic little thing already ruined by me. Isn’t that right?”

Wanda’s hold on your chin grew tighter and you held back a wince. You knew she was waiting for an answer, but as Kate’s panicked gaze searched your face you felt too ashamed to utter a single word.

“I almost feel bad for her,” Wanda continued when you didn’t speak. “I mean, I can relate. Much like her, I wanted you the moment I saw you too. But she and I have one big difference…” Wanda dropped your chin again and her hands made their way down your body. You let out a gasp when you felt a hand move straight down between your legs and cup your pussy. 

“I already fucking took what I wanted,” Wanda snarled as you felt two fingers enter you. Your hand flew to Wanda’s wrist at the surprise intrusion, but you couldn’t help that your previous gasp had turned into a pathetic moan. “And I’m never letting you have her.” She punctuated each word with a pump of her fingers and you bit down hard on your lip to stop the sounds that were threatening to fall from you. Kate was thrashing in the chair in front of you and your eyes dropped to the floor. Your fingers flexed around Wanda’s wrist, but you still didn’t pull her away. At this point the only thing on your mind was to make her happy, regardless of the horrifying circumstances. Wanda has scared you tonight, she has made you take a giant backstep to which you won’t ever return from and she’s gone to lengths you’d never expect. Except, you were just too far gone now. 

Feeling Wanda inside you again was earth shattering. You’d spent so many nights alone and in those frustrating nights you had told yourself you just wanted somebody, anybody to hold you. That was a fucking lie. You wanted- No, needed Wanda. You were hers and no amount of time or distance changed a damn thing about that. It took one night, less than three hours even for you to fall back into place with her and realize just how deeply you needed to be hers. Wanda’s goal this whole time was to remind you and teach you and Kate a lesson and unfortunately for the both of you, the lesson was learned. You didn’t think you’d ever have the strength, courage, or even sense to leave Wanda ever again after this. 

With Wanda’s fingers pumping inside you and her bare body pressed to your back, your head was swimming. Never mind the poor girl who was forced to watch helplessly. Your eyes squeezed shut at the magnitude of shame you had for enjoying this as much as you were while Kate looked at you with what was possibly the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen. 

Before Wanda could make you cum she withdrew her fingers. You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips at that, but quickly bit your lip again to keep from making too much noise. With the circumstances, it felt wrong to be enjoying all of this as much as you did. but this was Wanda. The one person who knew your body better than anyone else. Even after almost a year apart, she hadn’t forgotten the way you liked it when she curled her fingers inside you or the way you’d get so wet from her treating you in such a rough manner. 

At one point, when you were with her, you wondered what you had become. Never did you think you’d be someone who let another person utterly own your entire being, body and all. When you left you thought you could free yourself of that. But if you learned anything tonight, it was that you still belonged to Wanda. With the measures she had gone to and the way you kept letting her do whatever she wanted to you, that fact was pretty clear. 

You twisted your head around to see what Wanda was doing, only to watch her reach under your own pillow. What she revealed was very familiar to you; a dark red strap on that Wanda used to love to use on you. She kept it. Your eyes widened as you realized she wasn’t going to let you off the hook any time soon tonight. Or Kate for that matter. 

Your head turned back to Kate who had stopped struggling to stare in shock at Wanda too. For a moment you thought to get up and actually help Kate, if only so she didn’t have to watch what was to come next. Only, it seemed like Wanda knew exactly what you were considering, because she was on you before you could move a muscle. 

With a surprised yelp, Wanda had your body turned and your back hitting the bed in mere seconds. She swung her leg over your body at that and you just stared up at her as her predatory smile slowly turned to Kate. “Look at you,” Wanda was directly talking to Kate now. “This is killing you isn’t it?” Wanda’s hands were slipping under your knees now, bending them so that they could hook around your waist. The toy was lined up and your chest was heaving in anticipation. Anxiety was coursing through your veins, but so was this hard to ignore, appalling feeling of anticipation and excitement for what was to come. For what you missed so desperately. 

You held your breath as Wanda entered you with the toy that you never quite got used to back when you two were together. Now, since you were out of practice, the familiar burn of it stretching your pussy out reminded you of the very first time she used it on you. You squeezed your eyes shut again and couldn’t stop the pitiful groan that left your lips. 

Wanda chuckled from above you before she finally bottomed out inside you. “Was this how you planned to fuck her?” Wanda was still talking to Kate as she began to rock her hips. “Or were you going to be gentle? See the thing with her is… She likes to be ruined.” Your fingers tangled in the sheets as you tried your best to get used to how big her cock was inside you. Your desire for Wanda was completely in control at this point, letting Wanda start a steady pace with no intentions of stopping her. The way you could hear Kate struggling made you feel sick, but the way you never wanted Wanda to stop, despite her presence, made that feeling worse. 

Wanda’s pace kept increasing. Her body bent over you until she was pressed against you. The way she pumped into you was making the whole bed rock and the burn of her practically abusing your pussy had finally turned into extreme pleasure in a way that had your body arching into hers. You had totally given into this feeling now, all thoughts of Kate gone and replaced with how much you wanted Wanda to just keep claiming you in the way that she was. 

“Tell me,” Wanda growled into your ear this time as her hips slowed for a moment. “Do you really think she could fuck you like this?” 

“N-no,” you were trying to catch your breath as you spoke. 

Wanda snapped her hips hard and you immediately cried out again. “What was that? I don’t think she heard you.” 

“No!” You cried. “Fuck! No, only you can. Only you. Only-”

“Shhh, that’s my girl.” Wanda’s hand stroked down your cheek as she picked up the pace yet again. Her hand moved down your jaw until it stopped right on your throat. Her fingers wrapped around your neck and she squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but still enough to make you struggle to take the much needed deep breathes as she fucked you as hard as she did. 

All sounds of Kate’s struggles were lost on your ears. Your body was trembling and you were two seconds from falling apart all over Wanda’s cock. Wanda was loving every second of it. She was moaning in your ear as she kept fucking you harder, just the sight of you turned her on beyond belief. The way her hand flexed and squeezed slightly more on your neck mixed with the way she was pumping herself into you with such a force had strangled moans coming from you with abandon. It took more strong snaps of her hips before you were falling apart on top of her with a miserable cry.

Wanda’s hips slowed when you came down from your orgasm and her hand left your neck. You took loud, gasping breaths for air. Your body was spent and splayed out on the mattress. Wanda was looking down at you with such a satisfied grin on her face and for a moment all you could think of was wanting Wanda to make you cum again. Except then you remembered.

Your head slowly turned to see Kate still there, bound with tears running down her face. What now? That was the only thing running through your mind. 

Wanda’s hand came back to your chin, turning your head so you were facing her again. The shame that was coursing through your veins again felt louder, more painful. Except she was stroking your cheek, looking down at you with more pride in her eyes than you’d ever seen before. 

“Shhh,” she soothed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Then you and I are going to go somewhere far away.”

You couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran through your body as Wanda kept stroking your cheek in a gentle way that you hadn’t seen since she first arrived. Something told you that you didn’t really have a choice, but to go. 

A thousand scenarios ran through your mind about what Wanda was going to do with Kate. You felt pity for her and embarrassment at what she had witnessed. 

“I’ll go.” You heard yourself before you could even think about what you were saying. “But let Kate go.”

Wanda frowned for a moment, her hand pausing on your cheek. She looked over at Kate and then back down at you, the frown quickly leaving and being replaced with a conniving. “If I promise to let her go, you must promise to never try to leave again.”

You nodded furiously, taking this one chance to get Wanda to do your bidding. Kate would be free, even if it meant that you sealed your fate. Only, little did Wanda know, after tonight you didn’t think you’d ever have the strength to leave her again. She was the one thing you wanted that you wished you didn’t. She was in your veins, she was your entire being. You were hers completely and nothing, no amount of time or space, would ever set you free. 

You surrendered to Wanda the moment you saw her again. Even if you tried to leave once, you knew Wanda was going to spend a lot of time reminding you that you would never be able to leave again. 

taglist: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @storiesofsvu

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[august-anon]

A Friendly Spar

For Tickletober Day 18: Tickle Fight

Late again!!! Because I also did not have a chance to edit it until last night!! Apologies, and curse real life obligations!

BUT I am caught up now and hopefully can get the rest of the fics i have for the month edited and posted on time lol

-------------------

Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Hizashi/Switch!Shouta

Word Count: 967 words

Summary: After so long, sparring has become a sort of love language.

[ao3 link]

-------------------

After fifteen years of friendship, and over a decade of romance, any relationship would develop its fair share of little quirks. One of their special little quirks was their love languages.

Oh, sure, they had the typical ones. Hizashi thrived on physical touch and words of affirmation (not Shouta’s strong suit at all, but he tried, and Hizashi loved him for that), and Shouta’s was undeniably acts of service. But the one love language they had perfectly in common?

Sparring.

It probably had something to do with growing up in the hero sphere, and training until they dropped during their formative high school years. Shouta especially had a tendency to work himself to exhaustion, always needing to be the best of the best. Somewhere along the way, between the two of them and Oboro (not to mention Nemuri and Tensei, at times), sparring became more enjoyable, and even fun at times.

It was something they carried with them well into adulthood, and working at UA certainly came with its perks to support that – like constant free access to any of the near-dozen gyms on campus, granted that there were no students using it at the time.

And sparring didn’t have to be serious, Hizashi thought as he dodged another swipe from Shouta’s devious fingers. In fact, their spars rarely managed to be serious anymore – they both got enough of that, between training the next generation of heroes and their own regular hero work. This particular spar had devolved almost immediately, both of them needing to let off a little steam after a long week of teaching and cases that went nowhere.

“You can’t run forever,” Shouta grunted, rebalancing himself on his toes after his failed strike.

“And you can’t chase me forever,” Hizashi said, spinning away. 

He’d demanded Shouta remove his capture scarf for the spar – it gave him an unfair advantage that Hizashi was not willing to concede to that evening. He wasn’t that desperate for a laugh, at least not yet. No, right now he wanted even odds and a fair chance to win. He was dying to see that healthy, laughter-induced flush on Shouta’s cheeks as well, and nothing was going to keep him from his prize.

“I’ve chased more difficult opponents for longer. I think my stamina is up to par. Is yours?”

Hizashi gave him a salacious grin. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night, mister.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.”

“I love you – have you considered the idea that there may be a difference?”

“Mmm, nope!”

Hizashi dodged another strike, this time redirecting it in order to bring himself closer to Shouta. He slipped one hand up Shouta’s loose muscle shirt, searching out any tickle spots he could find on the sweat-slicked skin. He used the other to pull Shouta close and hold him there, well aware he was leaving himself open for attack. It was no fun if Shouta didn’t fight back, after all.

“Dammit, Zashi!”

“What, does that tickle? Just a little? You can go ahead and laugh, I won’t tell anyone. Your scary reputation can stay intact.”

“Fuck you!”

“Been there, done that. Weren’t you listening?”

Though his squirming and escape attempts didn’t stop, Shouta buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, leaning his weight against Hizashi and huffing strangled breaths against his skin. Hizashi shivered, then squeaked. He grabbed Shouta’s hip to ground himself, only to finally make Shouta crack and huff a laugh into his neck.

“What, does that tickle?” Shouta chuckled against his throat, scruff and hot breath wreaking havoc on his nerves. “Just a little?”

“Wait, Shouta, please!” Hizashi’s giggles were high pitched and frantic, almost too thick to speak through.

Shouta’s own laughter, on the other hand, was deep and rich and only made his voice even more unfairly attractive. “You’re the one who grabbed me.”

That was true. Hizashi planted both hands against Shouta’s middle, preparing to shove him away, only for Shouta to grab his wrists in a vice grip. Before Hizashi could blink, he was spun around so his back was pressed to Shouta’s chest, arms crossed over his own chest as Shouta continued to grip his wrists and hold him close. Shouta’s face quickly found its way back to Hizashi’s neck, nuzzling and nibbling and huffing horribly ticklish breaths all over. Hizashi squealed, barely holding back his Quirk. They did not need the windows repairs taken out of their paychecks. Again.

“Perhaps,” Shouta whispered right up against the shell of his ear, “it would do you well to remember who your opponent is, and how frequently he kicks your ass.”

Hizashi shrieked and giggled and tried to kick back at Shouta’s shins. “Just you wait until I get your neck!”

“Oh no. I’m so scared.”

Gritting his teeth against his smile, Hizashi threw his weight backwards, catching Shouta off guard in a rare moment, and landed them both on the floor. This was serious now, and Hizashi didn’t intend to lose. He went for the kill immediately, straddling Shouta and shooting one hand back toward his thigh and the other toward his ear. On the other side of Shouta’s neck, Hizashi buried his face and did his best to nuzzle his mustache into the skin.

Shouta howled, trying to buck Hizashi off to no avail. Instead, he brought his hands up to vibrate into Hizashi’s ribs. Hizashi faltered for only a moment, fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and roll off Shouta for his own protection. Instead he steeled himself and forced himself to hold still, cackling into Shouta’s neck.

“Give up!” Shouta choked out through his laughter.

“You first!” Hizashi wheezed.

It was a good thing they had this gym booked for the next hour, because Hizashi doubted either of them would concede any time soon.

[elexuscal]

something I feel Temeraire fandom hasn't dug into enough is how Kaneko and Junchiro are set up as narrative foils to Laurence

Kaneko is the platonic, exemplary ideal of 19th century noble Japanese culture, just as Laurence is for British culture from the same period. He's is diligent, lawful, loyal, and after the death of his family, has made a pledge to aide any traveller in need that he meets.

... and then just like Laurence, he's put in a situation where it is impossible to reconcile these two sides of honour. He's tasked with sheltering a white foreigner with a terrible head wound; and it becomes increasingly obvious that said foreigner isn't some random unfortunate sailor, but a key member of a diplomatic party between two of Japan's enemies. Does he follow the law, or does he follow his personal code of ethics?

He ends up... Splitting the difference. He protects Laurence, even though it's explicitly against the law. Then he ends up chasing Laurence and duelling him, as the law dictates but breaking his vow in the process.

Unlike Laurence, he's never truly able to reconcile these two warring elements, and he is saved from having to make that decision...

... By Junchiro.

Junchiro hasn't made any pledges to protect travellers. He does not like Laurence, does not trust him, and thinks Kaneko should turn him over. But. He also knows and fully believes Kaneko to be a good man, and as a student in his debt, believes the morally right thing to do is protect him. So he breaks the law helping Laurence escape, to spare Lord Kaneko in this impossible choice.

In this, he ends up echoing Laurence's choice to take the dragon cure to France, albeit on a smaller scale. When given the choice of following the law or his personal code of ethics, he chooses the latter.

And this is where the parallels really strike I think. Laurence gets to France, and Napoleon is like, good sir! What you have sacrificed for the sake of others is so incredibly honourable that it's making me want you carnally! Please, will you stay with me here in France? I will keep you in comfort, and we can do good work together!

And Laurence politely declines, says I'm going back to England, to face whatever wait awaits me. And Napoleon says, that's a damn shame but I won't hold you here. Bonaparte lets him go, and that decision definitely kicks him in the ass given how instrumental Laurence is in his defeat, but never seems to regret that deicsion.

So Junchiro breaks Japanese law rescuing Laurence-- a decision which while it spares his master Kaneko, honestly probably ultimately was to Japan's benefit, because can you imagine the fallout if they had ended up imprisoning or god forbid executing the adoptive crown prince of China? but instead of anyone formally recognising he just saved their collective asses, they're like, Yeah You're Exiled, get the fuck out of here.

Exiled, just like Laurence was to Australia.

So Laurence is like. Wow this kid just saved my life; I have the utmost respect for him. He says as much to Junchiro, and does everything in his power to set Junchiro up for success within British culture (just as Napoleon would have done for him). Teaching him English and Mandarin; letting him making connection; learning the ins-and-outs of aviator culture, so perhaps he can one day earn his step and get a dragon of his own, which Junchiro does seem to want, despite being otherwise bitter and listless.

and then after like... six months? (10? idk the timeline is fuzzy) Junchiro comes to Laurence and says: thank you very much for caring for me. However, I cannot continue. While Japan may think me a traitor, I am still loyal to them, and I can't keep helping their enemies. I'm going to abdicate to France. Tell me now if you disagree so I can kill myself.

And Laurence is like. Oh god no. Of course I understand. And let's Junchiro go, just like Napoleon let him go.

And yeah, that ends up kicking him in the fucking ass! Junchiro ends up providing the intel which allows French forces to steal Ning's egg, lure both Iskierka and Temeraire away from the front lines, and bolster Napoleon's early dragon-coalition by making it look like Laurence and Temeraire support it. A master stroke!

And obviously, it hurts, when Laurence realises it. But he realises that Junchiro was perfectly plain in his intentions, and Laurence still cannot fault the man for being loyal to his country. So when they have supper together, Laurence is polite and respectful, despite the dire situation.

TLDR: Kaneko is Laurence if Laurence couldn't choose to go traitor, and Junchiro is a younger Laurence

also i wonder what happened to Junchiro in the end.

[puckszone]

my musings on how to leave longer & more regular comments on fics:

We all know comments are good - readers have probably heard authors on tumblr talk about how valuable comments are for ages, and I hope most of the authors reading this have felt that validating joy first hand.

But we also all have lives, and only so much energy in a given day. Maybe you have worries about leaving a comment that's too "weird", or "awkward". Maybe you LOVE a fic, but have no idea how to put those strong emotions into words. Maybe you leave short comments, but wish you felt comfortable crafting the paragraph-long detailed comments that some readers gift to their favorite fics.

If you've ever thought about trying to comment more often, or trying to leave longer comments, then here are some ramblings of mine that will (hopefully!) bring comment-inspiration your way.

A quick table of contents:

Lower the mental stakes

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

My approach to paragraph-long commenting

My call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further

Lower the mental stakes:

When I first joined a writing discord, I was genuinely blown away at the amount of support and love the HRPF community contains. I was also blown away at the amount of people that were actually reading my works and messaging about them!! It is still one of the coolest feelings ever.

In my mind, this is an example of a "lower stakes" ways to talk about fics: messaging a friend, or a group chat, or a discord server.

It takes a lot less energy for me to type a rambling text about how much I love the fic I'm currently reading vs. typing a cohesive, well-thought out comment for the author themselves.

One of those two options is much more intimidating!

I want so badly to tell the author how much I love their fic, but I'll never find the time to write all the things they deserve to hear!! So the tab sits open on my phone for months, and the comment never gets written.

If you relate to this: try to lower the "mental stakes" of writing your comment. Remember: this is a fun thing!! Fic is fun!! And I promise, you don't have to write the "perfect" comment to make an author's day.

A potential solution: treat the comment box a bit more like a message to your group chat. Not in a rude way - let's stay polite to the writers in our community, and recognize when unsolicited feedback isn't wanted.

But instead of forcing yourself to always have the "perfect" comment, think of something lighter. Think of what you would text to a friend if you were going to send them a link to the fic: maybe "dude this fic is so funny you need to read it", OR "this is INSANELY good", OR "i've been reading this all morning you need to check it out right now".

Then write that!

Comment: "this fic is so funny oh my god. love it!"

Comment: "this is INSANELY good"

Comment: "SCREAMING. I LOVE THIS"

Comment: "i haven't been able to put this done all morning! sooooo good!"

Comment: "i read the first chapter of this fic and instantly knew i had to send it to all my friends. i love this so much!!!"

Also, this might just be personal preference but: a discord message can get lost to time. AO3 is an archive, and comments there are much easier to look back on!!

So send that discord message to the author in a server you're in - they're going to appreciate it so much!! But consider copy-pasting that as a comment in AO3 as well, no matter how short it might be. It means a lot!!

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

PWP fics are known to have a large number of hits, with less kudos and even less comments.

Listen. I get it.

Especially in a fandom like HRPF, where many fics are user-locked, it can be intimidating to comment with no chance to hide behind anonymity.

But remember this: anybody who might "see your username" has also clicked into that very same fic and gone alllllll the way to the end. We're all in this together!!! I promise!!

Maybe the actual logistics are difficult for you - how do I leave a comment on an 8k porn-no-plot fic?? how do I explain that I love this fic without making the author uncomfortable?? - so in that case, let me give a few brief ideas for you to work off of.

Some words I like to use a lot: dirty, nasty, HOTTTT, sexy, intimate, vivid.

If you're feeling especially blindsided by the Everything of it all: i like to throw in a good "stupidly hot". "my brain is melting out of my ears". "soooooo dirty nasty hot". "WHEWWWW this is making me feel insane".

Don't overthink it!!!! Speak your truth!!!

And, final point: don't be afraid to highlight specific favorite parts, like you would with any other fic! Say it with your chest! If you liked the frottage, then say "the thigh riding was sooooo stupidly hot". I promise, the author put it in because they also thought the same thing!!!! It's going to make their day (and maybe result in more fics with that same favorite part of yours).

My approach to paragraph-long commenting:

I just want to reiterate: there is no right or wrong way to write a comment. But here's the general breakdown of how I think about leaving more detailed comments, if you want some ideas.

I copy snippets from the fic that call out to me as I read

I go into my clipboard to paste them all into the comment box

I write 1-2 sentences about WHY i copied down that specific snippet

Sometimes, it might be hard to know exactly why you were so affected by a given line. Here's some things you might especially appreciate in a fic:

Characterization: maybe the dialogue felt especially realistic. maybe the character's decisions made a lot of sense to you. maybe the way two characters interact is just exactly how you picture it. write that down in one sentence!! done!

Prose/writing style: maybe the line was a really gorgeous metaphor, piece of dialogue, etc. copy and paste that shit into your comment + add some "!!!"s, or maybe a single sentence like "this is so so gorgeous" or "INSANE metaphor" or "beautiful prose i'm chewing on glass"

The plot: "I have no idea where this is going next, and I can't wait to find out" / "OH MY GOD THE CLIFFHANGER"

The emotions you felt while reading it: this one's an easy one I promise! "the way you wrote [CHARACTER]'s pain hurt sooooo good" / "this is making me feel ill" / "i actually gasped out loud on the bus" / "i'm so nervous for the next chapter" / "i'm SO excited by where this fic is going" / "i teared up reading this"

A long comment will come organically & very easily, even if you only have 2 copy-pasted snippets!! And the author gets to hear very specific feedback about exactly what you're enjoying - that's SO unbelievably rewarding to hear.

So, my personal call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further!

If you don't usually leave comments: try leaving one or two one-line comments this week. Throw in a quick "i love this!!" next to that kudos!

If you usually leave one-line comments: try leaving a couple sentences! describe one specific thing you liked about the fic, or one specific emotion you had.

If you often leave comments on the fics of people you know: try going outside your comfort zone and commenting on a stranger's fic. you got this!

Push yourself one step further, whatever that means for you! It's such a beautiful thing, to be able to read and love and discuss fic in a shared community, and it's worth the effort!

If you've read my ramblings the whole way through: thank you!!!! This was mainly an outlet for me to put all my thoughts into real words, and I sort of can't believe you read all the way through. <3

I welcome any and all additions to this post!!!! The more we talk about commenting, and the more we comment, the more this community grows - and that's a positive thing for all of us, readers and writers alike.