#the semis passing would rock the car

[ms-demeanor]

BTW following distance:

There are a ton of various ways that people recommend you track following distance in your car for safety, and most of them are some measure of distance or time. I don't know what a hundred yards looks like. I don't know how many is ten carlengths. I measure in time.

The way that I do this is I watch the car in front of me pass an object and I count how long it takes me to get to the same object. Car in front of me passes a line in the pavement? One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi - it takes me four seconds to get to the line.

The faster you are going, the faster TRAFFIC is going, the more time you need for following distance because it's going to take longer for your fast-moving car to stop than it would for your slow-moving car to stop. You need even MORE time if your car is HEAVY, which is part of why it is rock fucking stupid when people dart in front of semis or when massive pickup trucks start tailgating.

With enough practice you get a good feel for what is a safe distance in various conditions (wet road after a long period with no rain? you need A FUCKING LOT of space), but one of the better ways to learn this is to play what I call the traffic game.

When you're playing the traffic game, you sit in traffic behind the car in front of you and you count how many times they press their brakes to each time you press yours, resetting to zero each time you put your foot on the brake.

If you are leaving good following distance, you should almost never use your brakes while driving on the highway because momentum should be enough to slow you down and keep you back if you're getting close to another car. If you have to brake frequently, you're too close for your speed.

Playing this game will make you a better, safer driver who is more aware of traffic and has a better feel for driving conditions. It has the added benefit (for me) of making traffic more fun to sit in as you try to beat your personal record (mine is 48; the driver in front of me pressed their brakes 48 times before I had to press mine).

Reset to zero when you have to brake, or when another car moves in front of you. You're allowed to ignore brake presses when going downhill but have to have double penalties if you brake while going uphill.

The *minimum* following distance at ANY speed and in ANY vehicle is far enough back that you can see where the tires of the vehicle in front of you touch the ground. If you have to brake hard enough that you can't see where the tires in front of you are you need to get off the road and practice driving more in empty parking lots because you are a hazard.

Remember that you are ALWAYS responsible for an accident if you rear end someone - if you rolled into another car because the car behind you hit your car, you were too close! If you rear-ended a driver in front of you because they braked suddenly for a cat in the road and you couldn't stop in time, you were too close! Leaving sufficient distance between you and the car in front of you is basically the most important thing that you can do to improve your road safety once you're past the basic stages of situation awareness and knowing how to check your blind spot. You do not want to be responsible for an accident! You do not want to risk injuring or killing people with your vehicle! One of the single best ways you can avoid that risk is by leaving sufficient following distance!

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: I'm so excited that y'all loved the first part! Thanks for your enthusiasm, you rock <3

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

WC: 2000+

Part I | Masterlist

“I’m getting hungry.”

Bradley glances at the restaurant sign as he passes it on the interstate, suppressing a sigh. He usually skips lunch on long trips so he can arrive at his destination before nightfall. “I’ll get off at the next exit,” he says.

“Will you?” you exclaim excitedly, as though he’s offered to catch and cook your next meal himself.

Bradley chuckles mildly. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve.”

“You’re so sweet,” you reply, and Bradley eyes you with a grin because he’s about eighty percent certain you’re being facetious.

“What’re are you in the mood for?” he asks as he gets on the off-ramp.

“Something greasy and very bad for my heart.”

Bradley lets out a small laugh. What’s bad for his heart is you sitting next to him being all cute for the next twenty hours straight.

He pulls into the lot of a little diner just off the highway and parks his car while you flip down your sun visor to glance at your reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Bradley tries not to examine you directly and instead just glances in your vicinity. “Better than the truckers, I bet,” he comments, noticing the row of semis at the back of the lot.

You give him an unimpressed look and then push open your door. “I sure hope they have French toast.”

“I thought you wanted something greasy,” Bradley says, walking around the front of the Bronco to join you.

“I want options,” you state, marching forth toward the front doors.

Bradley strides ahead and pulls the door open for you. He can’t say he isn’t looking forward to having a sit-down meal with you, like it’s a date or something. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s almost thrilled at the prospect of the other patrons assuming the two of you are a couple.

You walk through the open door and Bradley stalls for a moment, trying to clear his head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that sort of nonsense. He and Hangman have enough issues without adding Bradley’s crush on his baby sister to the mix. They’ve just begun to mend their bumpy – to say the least – relationship, and Jake would sure as shit not appreciate his colleague developing feelings for his younger sibling.

“You comin’, sugar?” you call from inside.

Bradley, who’s clearly taken too long of a beat, glances at you in a bit of a daze. He’s sure you just called him ‘sugar’ and that has utterly thrown him. He enters after you and gives the hostess a look that he hopes might resemble a polite smile. But his face feels hot and numb at the same time, so he can’t be sure.

…

“I think I’ll get the pancakes,” you muse, flipping through the menu leisurely.

Bradley smiles at you when you’re not looking. “Want to share some things?”

You glance up at him happily. “Can we?”

Bradley chuckles. “Why not? I could go for a pancake. What else should we get?”

Your eyes light up and you instantly refer back to the menu. “Fried pickles.”

Bradley cringes but he’s still amused. “Those’ll go great with the pancakes.”

“I agree,” you respond without a hint of sarcasm. “Chili?” you continue. “Or tacos?”

“Why not both?” Bradley shrugs.

You give him a serious look. “That’s just crazy talk.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”

“I sort of want some pie, though.”

Bradley closes his menu and leans forward into the table. “I’ve already thought of that,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s about to divulge a secret. You lean in too, your bright eyes blinking up at him eagerly. “We’ll get one for the road,” he whispers.

You gasp. “You’re a genius!”

Bradley chuckles, leaning back in his seat proudly. “I won’t deny that.”

…

When the server arrives to take your orders, you let Bradley do the talking, but chime in with little requests now and again; onions on the home fries, maple syrup for the bacon, sour cream in the chili. And Bradley can’t help but delight in the fact that, every time you think of something, you tap his hand that's resting on the table, ‘oohing’ with excitement.

Bradley eyes you with a smile once the server departs. “Maple syrup for the bacon?”

You wave a hand at him. “You’ll see.”

Bradley shakes his head with a smirk. “Not on my bacon.”

“Yeah, my brother warned me that you’re a bit of a square.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Your brother said what?”

You grin at him mischievously. “Don’t worry, I can make up my own mind.”

“Your brother warned me that you’re a bully,” Bradley replies, his smile only getting wider. “And, coming from Hangman, that’s saying something.”

You let out a peal of laughter so exuberant that several faces turn to look in your direction.

“Don’t worry,” he adds when your laughter partially subsides. “I can make up my own mind.”

“And?” you ask with soaring eyebrows. “Have you?”

Bradley hesitates for a moment and then decides to respond in a cheeky manner to avoid any awkwardness. “Not just yet,” he says with a chuckle.

You reach out and lightly smack his forearm. “Stop!”

“I’m joking,” Bradley concedes, grabbing your hand before you can strike him again. “It’s not like you’ve ever hit me to get your way,” he says pointedly.

You shake your head with a smirk and withdraw your hand.

…

“Everything was delicious,” you gush to the waitress as she clears the table. “We had such a wonderful time!”

“Glad to hear that, dear,” the waitress gives you a smile and then winks at Bradley, as though she’s in on some scheme with him.

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in amusement as she walks away and then digs into his pocket for his wallet. “My treat,” he says when you reach for your purse.

“No way!” you exclaim. “You’re already giving me a ride. The least I could do is feed you.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to be your ride.”

“I insist,” you declare.

“I insist harder,” Bradley presses, laying down several bills onto the receipt tray.

You gaze at him pensively and finally slide your wallet back into your purse. “So, you’re stubborn,” you note.

“So, you’re observant,” he remarks.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for lunch, Rooster.”

…

Back on the road, you offer Bradley a turn with the radio, muttering something about not wanting to be a bully by hogging the music. He can tell you’ve said it in jest, but he still wants to make sure he hasn’t offended you.

“You know I don’t think you’re a bully, right?” he says, glancing between your face and the road several times.

You eye him playfully. “Well, give it a minute.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s getting dark,” he notes after a little while. He was hoping to get farther on the first day, but the prospect of maybe spending an extra day with you on the road doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it might have in the morning. “Want to stop for the night?”

“I can drive if you want,” you offer.

Naturally, Bradley overthinks your response. He wonders if maybe you’ve had enough of him and would prefer to get to Texas as soon as possible. “No, no,” he responds. “I can drive. I just thought you might be tired.”

“From sitting?” you quip.

Bradley gives you a flat look. “It’s been a long day.”

You shrug. “It flew by.”

That sets his mind at ease somewhat. A day doesn’t fly by unless you’re having a good time. “I think we should stop,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond, “let’s stop.”

…

“You two lovebirds want the mountain or city view?” the hotel’s front desk clerk enquires with a beam.

Bradley is about to explain that the two of you will, in fact, require separate rooms because you are the absolute opposite of lovebirds, when you respond with, “Mountain, please.”

The clerk hands you a key and Bradley follows you down the hall mutely, with both of your suitcases in tow. He’s not about to dispute your decision to share a room, despite knowing that it’s exactly what he swore he’d avoid doing the moment he laid eyes on you.

You open the door and enter, holding it open for Bradley so that he can bring in the luggage. He sets it down gingerly by the door and straightens his back to look around. The are two double beds against the wall and a large window with a spectacular view of the Santa Catalina range.

You flop down on one of the beds with a contented sigh. “You know what, darlin’? I am tired.”

Bradley watches you climb further up the bed and rest your head on one of the pillows. He’s used to you calling him all sorts of terms of endearment at this point, but it still warms his heart each and every time you do. “No dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he responds, adopting your speaking style on a trial basis.

You lift your head from the pillow. “Let’s just order in?”

You seem unfazed by the fact that Bradley just called you sweetheart. Meanwhile, he’s nearly thrown up from the anxiety it’s caused him. He resolves not to call you that – or any other overly-friendly name – ever again. “Yeah, we can do that,” he responds casually. “Pizza?”

You nod. “With barbeque chicken.”

“You got it.”

…

“Did you always want to be an aviator?” you ask, taking a bit of pizza while dusting crumbs off the bedspread.

The two of you are sitting cross-legged atop one of the beds with the open pizza box between you. Bradley grabs another slice. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to get into specifics, because that means being vulnerable, a state which Bradley does not much enjoy.

“Interesting.”

“What about you?” he asks. “What are you studying?”

“Math.”

Bradley nearly chokes. For some reason, he expected something less cerebral. “Are you going to be an accountant, or something?” he asks with a smirk.

You frown slightly. “I sure hope not.”

“Well, what do you want to be?”

“A good person,” you respond thoughtfully.

Bradley lowers his pizza and stares at you. “You are a good person,” he says hoarsely.

You shrug. “I have my days.”

“I mean, I don’t know you very well,” Bradley reasons. “But you seem great. Much better than your brother.”

You laugh and lower your gaze. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” you say warmly.

Bradley can feel his heart pounding like a double bass drum. The only sweetheart in this room is you and he can hardly keep that to himself. To think that you might be doubting your own integrity is affecting Bradley on a near-physical level. “You’re a good person. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an idiot,” he states.

You smile, still looking downward. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You place your half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and fall back into the pillows, sighing dramatically. “I’m stuffed!”

Bradley, who’s just taken his final bite, mutters around the crust in his mouth. “Me too.” He closes the pizza box and picks it up to set it onto the floor by the bed. Then, he moves to the other bed and lies down on his back with a weary exhale.

“Hey, Rooster,” you call from your bed.

“Hmm?”

“Are you a good pilot?”

Bradley turns onto his side to face you. “I think so.”

“My brother said you were just alright,” you say.

Bradley snorts and throws a pillow at you. You laugh and then stuff the pillow in between your knees. “Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this.”

Bradley adjusts his second pillow under his head and mutters, “You’re welcome.”

“Tomorrow you can choose what you want to listen to,” you say.

Bradley chuckles. What he wants to listen to more than anything is probably you.

“Hey, Rooster,” you say quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Is there any pie left?”

Read Part 3

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!

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@avengers-fixation

[cottontoru]

Rough Ride

✧˖° summary﹕your boyfriend is quite the sore loser, and of course, you always have to deal with it.

content(s)﹕porn w no plot, praise and degradation, streetracer!toji, angry sex, creampie, semi-public sex (you fuck in his car), dacryphilia if you squint, spanking (one ass slap, clit smacks), squirting, cnc kinda (you beg him to stop but you want it), wc; 0.7k

pairing﹕toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n﹕my first time writing someone other than gojo... had this idea for months and finally wrote it, enjoy!!

Toji hated losing. He was supposed to be undefeated, an unbeatable champion when it came to street racing, so he could he have lost a race this big?

You could tell from halfway throughout the race that he'd lost his temper simply from how his driving style grew aggressive. Toji was known for being aggressive in matches but being beaten put him in a full blown rage. A rage that couldn't be contained, and what better a way to release his pent up anger than fucking his girlfriend rough in the backseat of his black and white 1993 Mazda RX-7?

Folded practically in half, you're whining and squirming from how rough he's being with you. He's pounding into you with unimaginable force, his tip nudging that gummy spot inside that makes your brain feel like mush.

"Hngh...! Tojii- it's too much..!" you're basically crying, tears rolling down your cheeks as he slams into you. Right about now you two would be out at some fancy restaurant, celebrating his victory, except that isn't what happened today.

Instead you're being spoiled in a completely different way, one that makes you feel weak in your limbs as you hold your thighs and push them into your chest.

Rather than reassuring words, he simply smacks your clit, grunting. "Shut up and fuckin' hold your legs." he smirks smugly, slapping at your face between your legs.

"Tellin' me it's too much but yer taking me so fuckin' good," he continues, rubbing comforting circles at your sensitive clit, contradicting his rough demeanor. "Dirty fuckin' slut..."

You can feel the car rock with every thrust he makes into you, the windows fogged from the combination of your hot breath with his. There's no doubt anyone who passes can tell exactly what's going on inside, especially with how loud your cries and moans are.

His thrusts pick up both in speed and in force, practically stabbing at your sweet spot.

"Hurttss.. T-Toji! Please!" you sob, hot tears welling up in your eyes when he continues his rough, nonhuman pace. With each thrust into your pussy, the edges of your vision blur from the overwhelming pressure of it all.

"G'na cum princess, shit..." he groans, pushing your legs into your chest, trying to get deeper into you.

You cry and whine his name, pleading for him to stop despite every part of you wanting more. He continues hammering into your sweet spot, grunting.

"Just be quiet, almost done pretty girl..." he says hoarsely, pace unwavering as he continues to pound you with endless stamina. Your body is sticking to his leather seats from your sweat, causing pain with each thrust that drags your skin across his seats. Though you're far too focused on him as he presses his tip right into use sweet spot, spilling his cum into your cunt.

He stills his pace, keeping himself buried in your hole as he finishes coming inside you. "That's a good fuckin' girl," he coos in your ear. All you can do at this point is pant, mouth hanging open from the pleasure and exhaustion filling your body as you drench his cock in your own fluids.

With all his anger completely spent, he pulls out of you slowly, his cock soaked in your mixed fluids.

"Such a good girl f'me hm?" he hums, slapping your ass. "Lettin' me take my anger out on her pretty cunt."

Both your fluids drip out your cunt, his hand cupping over it to stop the leaking.

"Gonna keep it all inside, right pretty?" he smiles wide at your nod when you turn your head back to face him.

"That's my girl."

Pulling your panties up effortlessly, he dresses you back up before setting you back in the front passenger. Luckily, his backseat wasn't as messy as your sex was, the only thing drenching the seats being both of your sweat and some of your own climax moving in with it.

He slides in the drivers seat, starting up his car. You know for a fact his manager and any people still lingering from after the race had heard your... ordeal.

"Fancy dinner for t'night, princess?" his scar curls with his lips into a smile as he pats your upper thigh.

All it takes is a nod from your and he's off, driving you to whichever fancy revenue you request. What a gentleman he is.

[hederasgarden]

Series: Bound - Part 1

Summary: When a dangerous situation pushes you out of the only home you've never known, you take refuge with an unruly pack of wolves. Tyler Owens might not be the alpha you think you want, but he’s the one you need. [Werewolf!Tyler Owens x Human!F!Reader | 2.3K]

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Magical realism, supernatural themes, violence, and angst. Future chapters will include explicit sexual content  This series will include untagged themes and elements. 

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who patiently helped me write this including @mermaidxatxheart @a-reader-and-a-writer @blue-aconite and @clairewritesandrambles. The beautiful banner was created by @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

Masterlist

The rain comes in droves, the wipers on your car barely able to keep up with the deluge. Anxiety grows with every passing second, fear blooming in your chest when you glance in the rearview mirror. You half expect to see lights from another car but the road remains empty. You should be relieved but all you feel is mounting unease as you navigate the winding gravel path. The lack of moonlight makes it hard to see much of anything.

Your hands tremble on the steering wheel, and you grip it tighter, leaning forward to navigate a sharp turn. It's difficult to see beyond the narrow beam of your headlights, and despite the growing sense of panic, you’re forced to follow the winding path slowly. Suddenly, the dense thicket of trees gives way to a large clearing, where a massive wooden cabin stands in the center. Warm light spills through the bay windows onto a wrap-around porch, illuminating a line of rocking chairs.

You cut the engine, but pause with your hand on the door. Coming here seemed like the best option earlier, but now in the moment, your courage flags. You know from experience that lingering too long on that doubt will consume you, and the truth is, there are no other choices. You push the door open and sprint for the porch, the cold rain soaking through your clothes. There hadn’t been time to grab a raincoat when you left home in a hurry. Besides the car and the hastily packed duffle bag in the backseat, you have nothing—no personal belongings, not even the necklace with your mother’s wedding ring.

As soon as your boots hit the bottom step, the front door swings open. A young wolf with shoulder-length brown hair stands there, a bag of chips in hand. He tilts his head, taking in your disheveled and drenched appearance while he pops another chip into his mouth. You can only imagine how you must look to him, a half-drowned human seeking refuge on his porch.

"Hey," he greets. "Can I help you?”

You climb the final two steps and straighten your shoulders, trying to muster some courage. “I need to see Alpha Owens.” You pause and then add, "Please.”

The young man leans in, his nose twitching as he not-so-subtly takes in your scent. "Yeah, sure. Wait here," he instructs, closing the door.

You wrap your arms around yourself, seeking some warmth and comfort. It’s hard not to think about the last time you were here over four years ago with your father when the cabin was still under construction. Back then no one thought much of Tyler Owens and his small, ragtag pack of lone wolves. The Alphas’ council had dismissed them as insignificant and unworthy of attention. In your father’s world, those bitten and not born held little power, and the idea of Tyler becoming an Alpha of a pack seemed improbable at best. 

Despite this, your father kept a semi-friendly relationship with Tyler over the years, mostly because their lands bordered each other. No one, certainly not even your father, could have predicted how Tyler’s pack would grow the way it had or how he’d become a formidable Alpha with exactly the kind of strength you needed now. 

When the door opens again, Tyler stands in the entryway. His honey-blonde hair has grown longer, nearly touching the collar of his shirt, and his sharp jawline is obscured by a light beard. He's dressed casually in a pair of jeans, feet bare. You stare until he clears his throat.

"I’m not sure if you remember me..." you begin, but he interrupts with a smile. 

"I remember you," he says kindly. "I was sorry to hear about your father's passing. He was a good man and a great Alpha."

His words stir up the familiar ache of grief in your chest, threatening to choke off your response. It’s only been four months since you lost your father and you feel adrift without him. A nod is all you can manage for a long moment before you’re able to speak again. “I'm here because I need your help. I need sanctuary."

Tyler’s expression shifts to one of surprise, his brows drawing together in confusion. When he doesn’t speak for a long moment, you hurry to add, “It’s just for the night. I promise I’ll leave in the morning.”

"You need sanctuary from your father's pack?" He questions. 

You shake your head. "It's not his anymore."

Without thinking, you touch the unmarked skin of your throat, and Tyler’s gaze follows the movement. 

“What about Daniel?” Tyler questions. 

"He’s dead.”

Tyler's brow wrinkles, his sharp little "What?" nearly lost as the wind picks up.

Although you were never in love with your father’s chosen heir, Daniel was good and kind. You liked to think those feelings might have come with enough time but that’s impossible now. You should be grieving him too but it's hard to feel much more than numbness and horror when you think of what happened to him. 

“Let’s talk inside," Tyler urges, cupping your elbow to draw you closer as he surveys the darkness behind you, his green eyes flashing golden. Relief washes over you at the invitation.

Inside the foyer you’re overly aware of the wet squelch of your shoes against the hardwood floors and the water dripping from your clothes. The young wolf who greeted you earlier observes from a doorway to your left, exchanging a meaningful look with Tyler that you’re all too familiar with. The nonverbal communication an Alpha could share with their pack was something your father often utilized to dole out commands.

A light touch on your elbow draws your attention back to Tyler, who guides you into a spacious living room filled with couches and mismatched throw rugs. He urges you closer to the fireplace until its comforting warmth reaches you. You stay like that, staring into the flames until Tyler speaks again but when you turn to face him, you realize he’s addressing the young wolf who hands him a towel and steaming mug.

“Thanks, Boone.” 

“Aye, aye captain,” Boone replies, giving his Alpha a sloppy salute before leaving. 

You stare at Tyler, shocked by the casual way the other wolf addressed him. His only response is a raised brow as he offers you the towel. You take it, drying your face and hands. There’s nothing to be done for your clothes. 

“Here,” he directs, hooking his leg around a chair to pull it closer. “Sit.” 

“I’m drenched.”

He quirks a brow. “Sweetheart, it’s a chair, not my grandmother’s hope chest.”

You lower yourself gingerly and accept the mug of tea Tyler presses into your hands. Though you’re not especially thirsty, you take it, finding the warmth that seeps through the ceramic soothing. 

“Tell me what happened,” he encourages.  

“Daniel died three days ago. Sheriff Riggs—” you falter, your eyes darting nervously behind Tyler as if mentioning the man's name might summon him. Your voice trembles as you continue, now barely more than a whisper. “The sheriff says it was a car accident, but h-he—” your voice fizzles out, your throat tightening around the words you want to say.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is.”

You shake your head and look up at the ceiling, fighting to keep the tears at bay. The lump in your throat that’s been there since Daniel died feels like it's choking you. Telling the truth would be a relief but it’s dangerous. To accuse another Alpha without proof….

“I can’t.”

Tyler says your name softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Everything about him, from his tone to the expression on his face is gentle and encouraging. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I think… I think Scott had him killed.” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and as soon as they’re spoken, you wish you could take them back.

“Scott?” He repeats, his brows knitting together as he tries to place the name.

"Scott was expected to be my father's heir, until, out of the blue, he chose Daniel a few months ago.”

You never liked Scott, always wary of his ambitious and calculating nature. While most wolves were feared for the beast within, Scott’s human side set him apart. He was cunning and careful. Every move he made seemed designed to advance his own interests, often at the expense of others. You had half-expected him to leave the pack and start his own after being passed over for the coveted position of your father’s second. Instead, he stayed, and now you realize he was biding his time.

“That’s a serious accusation,” Tyler says, his tone guarded.

You shrink back as if trying to distance yourself from the weight of your words. Tyler’s nostrils flare, and you wonder if it’s the acrid tang of your anxiety or the sourness of your fear he smells on you.

“It’s not that I doubt you,” he adds quickly, “but I need to know what makes you think Scott is responsible.”

"Scott was careful not to show it but he was angry my dad chose Daniel.” You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to reveal what you’ve kept to yourself since Sheriff Riggs delivered the news to your pack three days ago. “The official report said Daniel was drunk, but I saw him earlier that night. He was sober.” 

Thinking about the last time you saw Daniel brings a sharp, painful sting to your chest. You didn’t see it at first, too caught up in your grief, but Daniel was the right choice to replace your father, handling things with the same calm confidence as his predecessor. It’s still hard to believe that the man who looked at you with those sweet, hopeful eyes, that promised he would be everything your father envisioned, is dead.

“It’s possible he went out after you saw him,” Tyler suggests. 

You breathe out sharply, shaking your head. “He wouldn’t, not with so much going on. He was a good Alpha. He was focused on the pack."

Tyler seems on the verge of saying something more but then he nods and gives you a soft, “Okay.”

You look away from him, trying to gather your thoughts. You need him to understand, to believe what you’re about to say.

“Scott’s uncle is the sheriff,” you continue. “He was the first to arrive at the scene of the accident. He and Scott have always been close.”

Tyler’s brow furrows as he processes your words. “So you’re saying Riggs might have altered the report?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “All I know is that with Daniel gone, Scott finally has what he’s always wanted—what he believed he was owed.”

“Do you think Scott would hurt you?”

“I don’t think so. He needs me to win over the rest of the pack.”  Scott certainly had his supporters, his uncle chief among them, but your father’s influence ran deep. The pack would expect to see you at the side of the next alpha. “But,” you continue, thinking of what drove you to run tonight, “I don’t think he plans on waiting to make me his mate.”

Tyler’s lip curls in disgust at your unspoken meaning. “You mean he intends to force you.”

“Yes,” you whisper, stomach churning at the idea of being bonded to a man like Scott. Someone who saw you as a means to an end to solidify his own power. Daniel was so different, allowing you time to grieve and adjust after your father��s passing before even broaching the subject. Part of you wonders if he would still be alive if you hadn’t waited to establish your bond— or if he would have just died sooner.

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Tyler assures you, tilting his head to catch your eye and hold your gaze. “As long as you’re here, you’re safe.”

“You’ll let me stay?” 

You didn’t really think he’d turn you away—after all, that’s why you came to him. Still, there was always a chance. Wolves were loyal to one another. You were painfully human. 

“I’d never turn away a lady in need,” Tyler says with a grin, that easy confidence you remember surfacing before his expression turns serious again. “Will Scott know to look for you here?”

“No. He probably expects me to seek out another Alpha on the council.”

“That’s good,” Tyler says. “But I gotta ask, why did you come to me? Your father has many friends you could have turned to.” 

"They would have sent me back," you explain simply. “Scott’s the new Alpha. In their eyes, I belong with him."

“Well,” Tyler begins, a small grin on his face, “I’m flattered you chose the charming but rogue Alpha over the law-abiding ones.”

His response startles a watery laugh out of you, a foreign feeling after all the grief and fear that’s kept you company these last few months. “I also chose you because my father always respected you.”

“Even when the others didn’t,” Tyler agrees. “I’ll always be thankful for that.”

You share a small, bittersweet smile with him and exhale, your shoulders slumping. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. 

“Now come on, let’s get you out of your wet clothes. In the morning we can figure out what to do.”

“We?” you ask, surprised.

Tyler flashes you a brilliant smile, leaning in close as if sharing a secret. “Didn’t you hear? Our pack is fond of strays. You’re one of us now, sweetheart.”

[sniigura-archive]

Softness within.

Adam x fem!reader

Part 1

CW/TW/Tags: Porn, Car sex, Semi Public, P in V, TW: Adam, COLLEGE AU!!!!, oral fem receiving, tell me if I missed smth, I wrote this at 2 am help me, breeding kink, pregnancy mention

Summary: Adam is either very charismatic or you don’t have a spine.

Adam ended up driving you home, after you punched in your address in his navigation system it didn’t take long for you to pass out. Shaking you awake, you scrambled out of Adam’s car, but sadly you weren’t fast enough since you still had to listen to Adam rant to you about the shit hole of a neighbourhood you live in.

He didn’t drive off till you safely entered your building.

Once you got home you didn’t even have the energy to get undressed, you barley took off your shoes and you were already in your bed. Pros of having a one bedroom apartment: the way to the bed is very short.

When you woke up everything felt like a fever dream. It felt so unreal, you were sure it was a weird sex dream coming up because of your repressed consciousness or whatever. You quickly threw away this theory, once you got into the shower. Ew. Having cold cum run down your thighs was not it.

Right so that happened. For real. Totally couldn’t potentially ruin your social life. That’s cool.

Checking your phone, you found texts messages from your friends. Since you all share locations they were happy to see you home after disappearing. Some kidnap jokes were made. You didn’t bother responding.

And just like that your life continued and you tried not to think of Adam anymore. Since you aren’t in the same friend group, don’t study the same subjects, and you’re just a master of avoiding awkward situations you didn’t see him the past 2 weeks. During these 2 weeks Adam found your insta, snapchat AND your phone number. In that order. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if he found your secret AO3 account or something and started to spam you full with comments.

Him actually actively looking for you made you feel some type of way….and once those thoughts reached you, you basically slapped yourself. You have always sucked at responding to messages, your friends just call you when they need you. You didn’t even properly read Adam’s messages, leaving him on delivered. These messages caused you so much anxiety, that you immediately swiped them away in your notifications field when you saw them pop up.

Another thing you were worried about was that your period was 2 days late, which isn’t a lot considering you took Plan B and it messes with your hormones but it still had you on edge so bad. You ended up buying a pregnancy test, which you didn’t end up needing. Thank god.

The last weekend party you skipped. Sitting at home and catching up with work was how you spend your weekend. And once you saw everyone post the party on their stories and the messages in your group chats, your FOMO kicked in so hard that you had to attend the next one. So, here you were leaning against a wall with some cheap soda in your hand, because you don’t drink since you’re boring. And like always when you’re at a party, you realised you didn’t actually miss out on much.

If you could, you would scroll away at your phone. What’s stopping you? Easy:

Adam starring at you from across the room. Tots not uncomfortable. Starring at your phone now would be like throwing a rock at an sleeping ice bear. Since you basically ignored him for 2 weeks straight. You really know how stand in your own way. Some part of your brain told you not to provoke him too much.

Ok you were just going to run away this is ridiculous. Taking a good look around on how you could escape (your friends were going to murder you for disappearing AGAIN) you jumped nearly 10 feet into the air when you felt big hands on your hips and a body pressed against your back. The only logical reaction to this was to step on the guys foot and throw your drink at his face.

“Ow! What the fuck, you crazy bitch?” Adam yelled.

How the fuck was he able to get to you that fast? Without you noticing?? He’s so big what??

“Jesus, dude! You can’t sneak up on a girl like that!” You yelled back.

Thankfully not many eyes were on you guys, and the music was loud so people yelling to communicate wasn’t unusual.

Adam whipped the soda of his face, looking pissed. Thankfully there wasn’t much left in your cup anyways, the top part of his band shirt was only slightly soaked. Act cool, act casual. Crossing your arms over your chest you looked at him expectantly.

Even though he looked mad a second ago, taking in the sight of you seemed to cheer him right back up. Maybe it’s because of your short skirt.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Wanna get out off here?” Shit. Goosebumps from excitement crawled all over your skin. He smelled like the sweet soda, but also like deep cologne. Ah, you’re so so weak.

“Always.” The words left your lips before you could truly think about it.

Adam smirked down at you, placing a hand at the small of your back he started to lead you out of the house party.

That’s how you ended up in Adam’s car, while he zipped around town, trying to find a secluded place, his hand was up your skirt massaging messy circles into your clothed pussy. You on the other hand were spreading your legs further apart, trying and failing to muffle your moans. Even though it was at most 2 minutes, it felt like it took Adam hours to park the car. You clawed at his wrist, trying to get more stimulation out of him.

He reached a hand under his seat, sliding it back from the wheel as far as possible, while also reclining the back of the seat.

“Holy shit, babe.” Adam mumbled out, he reached across to grasp your ass with both his hands hoisting you up and successfully into his lap. Once you sat down on his lap you could feel his bulge right under your pussy. You gave it an experimental roll of your hips. Adam bit his lower lip, his hand flew to your hips, helping you grind down on him.

Grasping at his shoulders, you smashed your own lips into his, trying to steal his breath. Fucking hell, you don’t think you have ever carnally desired anyone as much as him. Adam was still grinding your cunt unto his dick by your hips while he explored your mouth with his tongue freely.

Once the kiss stopped so you could breathe, Adam took the opportunity to rip your tights apart, to have better access towards your private parts.

“Man! Why did you do that? You better buy me new ones, asshole.” You told him frustrated.

“Chillax, baby, I will buy you even better ones if it means you let me hit.” Fucker.

Adam pushed your wet panties to the side, gently easing in a finger, “So tell me. Who else did you fuck after me?” His words were anything but gentle.

“Shit..No one. I..I swear, Adam.” You spoke through gasps. His thumb started to stroke your clit.

With his other hand Adam roughly grasped your jaw into his hand, starring into you with his golden eyes. They reminded you of that of a hawk. He didn’t look too convinced.

“Please, Adam, only you can make me cum.” You whimpered out.

Adam grinned at you at your words, “Ain’t that the truth. You better start answering your fucking messages then, slut.” Another finger was entered into your hole, he curled them upwards, hitting sensitive spots which made you moan shamelessly.

“Bad…at replying.” You mumbled out.

Adam rolled his eyes at you, “Yeah, right, give me a better excuse and I might let you cum.”

It’s not a bad excuse, it’s your reality. Even though your screentime was embarrassingly high, messages were your personal final boss. Using both your hands to run them down the sides of your thighs, your right hand met the pocket garter you wear when you’re wearing a skirt, or dress. Pulling out your phone with one brain cell intact is one thing, but unlocking it is a whole other. Pulling up the messages app, shoved the device into his face. He can read. You think. You hope.

Once he stopped grasping at your jaw so roughly, you massaged the tense muscles. Adam scrolled through your chats, he looked very interested. You caught the glimpse of a chat from last year. Yikes.

Laying your head against his shoulder, you started kissing at his neck. You still had fucking hickeys and bite marks from him! Asshole. Adam left your messages app and was investigating your social media now. He looked through your phone like a man on a mission. If you had at least half your mind you would have already stopped him. But the happier he was at your innocence the more intensely he did rub circles into your clit, turning you to mush.

Throwing your phone on the passenger seat- if it bounces off and breaks or gets lost you were going to kill him- Adam placed a hand at the back of your head, starting another forceful kiss. While your tongues were busy, Adam eased the third finger into you. He pumped them in and out of you, testing the resistance. Taking him unprepared would be a really stupid idea.

With a well placed tug of your hair, Adam pulled you slightly away from him, “It’s fucking hot babe, how you ignore other people. Really. But shit, I need you to answer my fucking messages. I’m not like those other fucking clowns you keep around. Got it?” You quickly nodded your head at him, whatever gets him inside of you.

Slowly pulling out his fingers out of you, one by one, he licked a strip up his fingers while looking into your eyes. He pulled down his jeans zippers, pulling out his leaking dick. He gave himself a few good pumps with his soiled hand. Is he not wearing any underwear?? Yikes.

“Now, sit down on my fucking dick.” Adam smirked at you.

A moment of clarity hit you when you remembered the unused pregnancy test you have hidden away.

“Wait! Do you have a condom?” You looked hopefully at Adam.

He looked at you like you just ruined Christmas, easter and his birthday all at once, “What the fuck do we need that for?”

“I’m not interested in pregnancy. Today is not safe.” You told him, you tried to sound stern.

“You would look hot as fuck though, with swollen tits and a swollen stomach. You sure you don’t want me to cream you while you’re ovulating? Besides, it went well last time, didn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you. The gold piercing was reflecting the light of the street lamp outside.

His hand were rubbing at your hips, wandering further up till he helped you take off your sweater. You didn’t bother wearing anything under it because bras suck. He smiled at the sight of your bare chest as if he just won the lottery. He really was moody.

“I’m serious! I bought a fucking pregnancy test, I was so stressed last time.” Adam didn’t even bother looking into your eyes again, his huge hand pulling and rubbing at your nipples and chest. You had to bit your lip to keep from moaning. You had to be strong, at least once. You also really needed to finish this degree without getting pregnant.

“See babe? That’s what you need my number for. So you can fucking tell me that shit.” Adam made brief eye contact with you, before he leaned forward and started sucking at your nipple. His teeth carefully bit down. Your hands tangled themselves up in Adam’s hair. Because Adam pulled you forward for easier reach, your pussy ended up rubbing across Adam’s length. The groan which left his lips made your tit vibrate deliciously.

He really knows how to play you. With his hands he grasped your ass, massaging it before he dragged you across his dick. Your clit caught at his dick piercing, causing you to call out for Adam.

And if you had half a mind, you would simply open up the car door and climb out, to really make your point clear. And Adam would drag you back in, while complaining and get a condom somewhere (hopefully). But the risk of him actually letting you leave was not something you wanted. You just really needed to have him fill you up.

Tugging at his hair, he removed his mouth from your boob. He smiled at you, “Finally ready to get dicked down, baby?” Adam asked you in that arrogant tone of his.

Your own hands wandered across Adam’s chest, till you finally tugged at the bottom of his shirt, trying to take it off. Adam slightly sat up, removing his shirt and throwing it on the passenger seat. Fully taking in his tan olive skin, you realised just how hot he truly is. There was a scar across his right ribcage, his nipple piercing just made him 100 times more attractive, his ample stomach made you want to straight up cannibalise him while his happy trail made your mouth water. What a man.

Grasping his cheeks into your hands, you tilted his head up so he could properly look at you. Your thumb grazed over his lips, “Adam, sweetie..” You cooed down at him. You felt his dick twitch under you, “Don’t you want me to ride you till you’re sucked dry? I can only do that if you get a condom. C’mon…” His eyes were starring into your own.

Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, removing your hands from his cheeks. His face didn’t show any ounce of emotion. Ah, maybe that was the wrong move. Before regret could fully set in, Adam started swearing under his breath. He leaned forward suddenly, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth, while he rummaged through the glove department. Successfully he pulled out a condom, while probably also cursing you.

He leaned his back properly against the seat, ripping open the condom package with his teeth. Adam then glided the condom on his dick, after you scooted back to give him some space. Once he made sure everything was secured, you leaned forward to kiss him again. His hands were grasping your hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh.

Once the kiss stopped, you grasped Adam’s dick, lining it up with your pussy.

During your two week Adam break, you really told yourself that that would be a one time thing. That next time you would say no to him. That you don’t really need him or his attention and touch and whatever else he can give you. Well, you’re also a big fat liar so there is that.

Placing your own hand on Adam’s hand, you tugged it off to intervene your finger. Biting down at your lip you slowly glided down on Adam’s dick. Your other hand was placed on his shoulder, nails digged into this skin.

Slowly sliding down on him, your mouth fell open at the stretch. Adams eyes were focused on your pussy swallowing him whole, “You take me so well.” He groaned out.

Once you were fully sat down on Adam’s cock, you panted in the stuffy air. Taking a glance to your right, you saw the windows were all fogged up. At least you have the illusion of privacy.

Adam’s hand moved from your hip to your ass, grabbing at the fat and massaging it. He slowly rocked your hips back and forth with that movement. His other hand squeezed your intervened fingers, he then pulled your hand towards his mouth. Kissing your finger tips while looking into your eyes.

Ah. Why does everything he do make your head spin? Did he do fucking witchcraft or something on you??

Grasping with your hands both his shoulders, you started rocking your hips back and forth. First at an slow and careful speed, but then you started going faster. Till you started going properly up and down on him. Adam’s hand went to your tit, fondling and pinching, while his other hand moved from the back of your neck towards the top of your head. You stopped questioning Adam’s behaviour a while ago.

“If I knew you looked so hot on top, I would have let you ride me immediately last time.” Adam told you, his eyes were jumping all across your body, it seemed like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look, “But damn, babe, we really need to get you on birth control.”

“S’expensive.” You mumbled out.

Your forehead meet his neck. Maybe you should exercise more, the burn in your thighs was getting intense.

“..You getting tired there, baby?” A breathy chuckle left his lips.

Adam forced your movements to stop, to sit down properly with his hand moving to your hip. He smirked at you, probably knowing he was going to give you another unforgettable experience. Why couldn’t he have been average in everything he does? Noooo, he had to blow your mind away. Damn him and his solid experience.

Adam started thrusting up into you. First at a slow and deep pace. getting you used to the sensation, then he went faster and faster. His piercing scrapped against a sensitive spot in you.

“Right there!” You gasped into his neck, you then started to kiss and suck at his skin. Leaving your own mark. His one hand was still on top of your head, massaging your scalp and playing with your hair.

Thankfully Adam is decent at following orders, he kept up his pace, hitting the spot over and over. You could feel an orgasm approaching. You were probably straight up moaning against Adam’s ear, but he doesn’t seem to complain.

“I can promise you, baby, ‘m gonna get you whatever you want as long as ya going to be my lovely cum dump.” He mumbled out.

Woah orgasms and meaningless consumption??? Your two favourite things!

All you could muster was a whine. Because that was a big commitment. Maybe you’re going to ghost him again. An extra rough thrust made you see stars, and the ghosting idea left your mind and maybe you should marry him and be a housewife and give him as many children as he wants.

You threw your head back at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure and- ah, that’s why he had his hand on top of your head, when you slightly crashed your head into the car roof. It was more shock than anything else, but it still scared the orgasm out of you. Damn it.

Adam stopped his movement’s, his brows were furrowed at your scrunched up face. His hand rubbed at your head in concern, “You good?”

You nodded your head at him, looking into his eyes with your own teary ones, “..I lost my orgasm.” You mumbled out in the most pathetic voice imaginable. To your own defence, it is the worst thing to happen to you today.

Adam looked at you with a blank look for a split second, before laughing at you. You hid your own face behind your hands, embarrassment cursed through your veins. You’re stupid. Why did you say that?

With the way Adam was laughing at you, you felt his dick jump inside of you, which in turn made you clench around him. Adam grasped your wrists into his hand, yanking them down and he smiled at you like a wolf.

“Well..Who am I to say no to my favourite slut? You want to cum? I’m going to make you cum.”

Why is he so hot!!!! You were going to smash your head again into the car roof.

You already thought his pace before was intense. Now? It was brutal. The scraping of his piercing, his hands on your hips and ass, his dick stretching you apart, his stubble rubbing against your soft skin. His constant fucking talking.

“Ugh, babe, you got such a tight cunt. Squeezing me. And you say you don’t want me to cum inside? Ha. Yeah, right.” Adam started rocking your hips back and forth, your clit was rubbing against his jeans.

“‘M more surprised you haven’t got anyone pregnant with that raging breeding kink of yours.” You whimpered into his ear, then you bit into his ear lobe. That was more to be annoying than sexy, but with the way he groaned and his dick twitched inside of you it seemed like it had the opposite effect.

You really would have missed his words, if you weren’t paying attention enough,

“You the only one I wanna get pregnant. Those other whores don’t deserve to have my cum.”

Why do you feel flattered….Something is really, deeply off about you. You need to up your medication.

It felt like hot flames were pooling in your lower stomach, you felt intense, near painful tingles on your clit and thanks to Adam’s constant rhythm of your clit rubbing against the rough fabric of his jeans it wasn’t a surprise that an orgasm washed over you. Your nails dug into Adam’s biceps while you squeezed around his cock.

“Fucking hell, you wanna milk me dry, huh?” Adam groaned, and with a few hip thrust of his own he came. You kinda missed the feeling of his hot cum shooting into you, but you would take that knowledge to your grave.

You rested your face into the crook of Adam’s neck, trying to regulate your breathing. Your legs felt like jelly. Adam was also breathing heavily, his hands rubbed up and down on your back. He stayed inside of you.

Realistically you knew that he had to pull out, to keep the contraceptive working but on the other hand..You just wanted to stay like that. Having Adam not talk for once was a relaxing change. And having his big warm hands on your back, which was starting to cool down, was just pure bliss.

“..You know, we could always do the pull out method.” He mured into your ear, trying to sound seductive.

You couldn’t help but snort at his words, “Yeah, sure, look me in the eyes and tell me you could pull out of this.” You lifted up your one knee, your skirt was lifted up by it and it gave Adam a clear view of your filled up pussy.

Adam couldn’t even look you in the eyes too mesmerised apparently by the sight, it was emphasised by Adam’s dick coming back to life again, twiching and growing inside of you.

“..Shit, you’re right.” Adam grasped your waist and lifted you off off him. He removed the condom, tied it up and threw it somewhere carelessly on the backseat floor. Yikes again.

He rubbed at his chin, probably thinking of what to do next with you. With a hot flash across your body you remembered his promise from last time. Thinking of it, you could fit on the floor in between his legs. Maybe. It would be uncomfortable but you also seemingly have no self respect so what does that matter?

“Get in the back seat.” Adam told you, you nodded at his words. Ok. You can crawl over there. Adam gave a light slap to your ass and chuckled at your surprised gasp. Successfully making it back there, you made sure not to step on the discarded condom. Why is he like that?

Adam grabbed another condom, since he was too big for anything really, he couldn’t crawl back there like you. Instead, he used the doors, like a normal person. Couldn’t be you.

Your head was against the window, and when Adam opened the door car door and crawled onto the seat and flashed that smirk of his you knew you were a goner. Out of seemingly instinct your legs slightly opened. Adam closed the door behind him- yay to the illusion of privacy!- and then he grabbed your ankle and tugged your roughly towards him.

A surprised gasp left your lips, you were laid down now, with Adam towering over you. He once again secured the condom, then he bent down to kiss you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping he secured against you. His left arm was supporting his weight against the seat, caging you in, while the other hand was sensually moving from your stomach towards your pussy. He drew patterns into your pubes which made you squirm uncomfortably. Maybe you should start shaving. He then rubbed his thick fingers across your slit, probably checking if you were still wet enough for him. He grazed your clit and it made your whole body jolt.

“Every time a girl shaves her pussy an angel dies. I swear on it.” Adam mumbled out. If those words were meant for only him or if he noticed you being uncomfortable, you didn’t known. But it made you feel somewhat more comfortable.

Adam lined up his super duper magic dick against your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You wrapped your one leg around him, since the other was squished between his body and the seats.

With slow and deep thrusts Adam rocked against you, now you realised how much the car must have moved. The pleasure was building slowly but surely. Adam was quite for once. Pussy so good it shut Adam up?? You’re sure you can put that on your resume.

You wrapped your hand around Adam’s bicep, to steady yourself. You squeezed the soft flesh, looking mesmerised at his big arms. He smiled down at you and flexed his muscles, making them rock hard. You squeezed again and swore under your breath. At this display you remembered actual strong men, and how fat is needed for muscles to be functional and you remembered seeing Adam carrying 2 heavy ass amplifiers on his shoulders as if that was nothing and oh. You need him. Badly. Thankfully you have him.

Using your one hand which was at the back of his neck, you pulled him down to you. Teeth clashing and tongues dancing and spit getting everywhere. It was all consuming and still not enough.

Once the kiss ended, Adam rested his own forehead against yours. You worried for his neck and the constant way he has to twist and bend it to reach you. You gazed into each others eyes, mouths panting into each other and the street light from outside let warm light flow in. It felt like you couldn’t avoid Adam, he was wrapped over you, completely covering you from every angle and he was inside of you, throbbing and twitching. You were breathing in the same air. And you didn’t want him to leave, if you could you would capture this moment and stay here forever.

Why does this feel romantic?

It seemed like you weren’t the only one who thought that, since Adam straighten his back suddenly, as if he forgot what you are to him.

When you looked up into his endless eyes, he was slightly frowning, but that expression changed as soon as it came. Maybe you imagined it.

He grabbed your face roughly and forced your mouth to open wide for him. You let your tongue roll, and rubbed his thumb against it. Hot. He removed his tongue only to spit into your mouth. That’s also hot??

You closed your mouth to swallow his spit.

He seemed rather satisfied with that. He sped up the pace, skin slapping against skin and your moans and gasp and his grunts and string of loosely connected words which you weren’t paying attention to left his mouth. His smug face kind of pissed you off, so you reached out and twisted his pierced nipple.

Adam stifled his own moan by biting down on his lip. But the pleasure he felt from that, he couldn’t hide from you.

And once Adam came, he bit down on your neck. Great! More marks you will have to hide. Ughhh.

The way Adam immediately slowly pulled out of you surprised you. He seemed to enjoy staying in as long as possible. Your brain was a bit to slow to catch up with Adam’s movement. His face disappeared between your thighs, under your skirt and ah-

“Wait. You don’t have to…” Your sentence was interrupted by your own moan.

Adam’s lips latched around your clit and he sucked. Hard.

Overstimulation immediately cursed through your veins, your fingers found themselves at home in Adam’s hair and you tugged. Nails massaging Adam’s scalp, this is probably what heaven felt like.

His tongue traced idle patterns into your clit. Probably spelling his own name again…Asshole. But since you were already close when Adam was fucking into you romantic missionary style, you came with a sob and your body curled into itself. You tugged Adam away from your overstimulated hole. The fact that you were clenching around nothing made you a bit sad.

“If I ever say no to fucking you, honey pot, I need you to take me out the back and shoot me in the head.” Adam told you matter of fact.

You dumbly nodded at his words. Whatever he wants he can get. Genuinely.

“How are you so good at everything?” Your already barley existent filter was gone now in a post orgasmic haze.

Adam laughed at you, “What can I say, I’m a real pussy pleaser.” He sat properly up in the seat, tugging everything away properly. He must have thrown the condom away when your brain was still mush. Reaching over he grasped your arm and dragged you into his lap.

Once you rested your face against your shoulder, bare skin against bare skin and the heat radiating from his body you felt sleep over come you. Adam grasped your shoulders and shook you awake. Literally. You thought you were going to fall on the nasty floor where your guys used condoms laid around. At least the only condoms there were yours?

“You fallin' asleep on me again, baby?”

“Yes. So. Silence, m’tired.” You barley mumbled out. Throwing your head into Adam’s neck again.

“Get back to the passenger seat, slut. I’m driving you home.”

Groaning as if Adam just killed you, you crawled to the front again. There you also put your sweater back on and pocketed your phone. Your keys were also safe with you. That’s good, you love not being locked out. You adjusted your panties while you were at it.

Resting your head against the window, you closed your eyes again while Adam got back into the drivers seat. Turning on the engine, he started driving towards your home.

Since you were half asleep, it felt like it took a second for Adam to arrive in front of your apartment complex. You mumbled out a tired ‘Thanks for the ride.’ and climbed out of the seat.

“You know usu-“

You slammed the door shut before Adam could finish that sentence. The plan was to act like you didn’t hear him. Simply walking towards the entrance, you opened the door and opened it fully by pressing your side against it. You couldn’t care less about the usual. The less you knew of other girls the happier you are.

You looked back at the car, to at least wave Adam bye or something, but when you saw him slam his head against the wheel you stopped in your tracks. You watched the display of his frustration for a few seconds, he then raised his head, probably to check if you got in safely. He froze in horror when he realised you saw that.

Truth be told, you didn’t think Adam was capable of embarrassment. But here he was.

Holding eye contact for a painful second, you simply shook your head and quickly got inside. Walking up the stairs towards your apartment, you unlocked the door, threw off your shoes and collapsed into your bed.

———————————-

Since you usually keep your word, you started texting Adam back whenever you could. At least that seemed to make him happy. You think. It’s hard to tell over text. You also made an appointment with your obgyn, or as Adam called it your ‘Pussy doctor’. You’re close to blocking him.

On Monday, you walked with your friend towards her car in the uni parking lot. You were going to meet up with your other friends for lunch.

Of course Adam was also there, his car parked right across your friend. Gahh. His band members were with him, he just unlocked the car when everyone tumbled in. You could hear your ex call out, “Dude, what the fuck?! Are those used condoms!?”

You were going to kill Adam and then yourself. WAS HE WINKING AT YOU?? He’s dead. Thankfully no one noticed.

Your friend made a face at that info being yelled out across the parking lot, she unlocked her own car and got in. You didn’t hear more from the exchange, but from the way Adam looked happy you knew he was taunting your ex.

Your friend fastened her seatbelt, “I don’t get how anyone can fuck Adam. Like, he’s so disgusting, disrespectful, misogynistic..”

Biting at your lip, you already knew your friends would be mad at you if they found out about you and Adam from someone else besides you. Looking around the car, to make sure the windows were really closed, you took a deep breath.

Adam was in his own car, signalling to her that she has the right of way. She made a quick thank-you-wave and was about to back out of the parking space.

“I did.”

She slammed into the breaks, causing you to be catapulted forwards. The way she starred at you without saying anything, made you uncomfortable. She was speed running all the stages of grief, you could clearly see that. She sighed heavily, like the whole world was resting on her shoulders with your confession.

“……..Is he really that big?”

[harrysloveboat]

John B’s Girl | JJ Maybank Fic

Summary: JJ Maybank was absolutely screwed. So detrimentally screwed. John B was going to actually end him. The blonde haired surfer had a thing for his best friend’s girl, (Y/N) Cameron. And when JJ notices something he shouldn’t, all bets are off.

Word Count: 6.8K, (18+, Minors DNI, Mature Audience)

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, cheating, dirty talking, thigh riding, car sex, mention of toys, alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), degrading, Dark!JJ, JJxReader, John BxReader, Cameron!Reader, sprinkles of fluff included, I think I might’ve made Dark!John B too by accident, etc.

Please read warnings before continuing. Really tempted to make a second part if anyone wants it! The ending kinda makes me think a second part is just necessary. Mostly unedited.

Constructive criticism and requests open on my page. I write about Harry, 5SOS, Outer Banks, and TSITP! Thank you x

It’s been an entire week of watching (Y/N) Cameron unraveling before JJ’s blue eyes.

JJ has no idea how the girl got herself into this predicament, and he certainly doesn’t understand how he’s been the only one out of his friends to notice what’s been going on between John B and his girlfriend.

Actually he does understand why, but he refuses to admit it. How could he ever come clean about the way his body ached when she was near? Or how his heart thumped out of his chest when she would accidentally brush her bare skin against his during hot summer days on the H.M.S. Pogue. Even the tender way she’d brush loose strands of blonde hair from his forehead in passing would send shocks of electricity to every corner of his body.

But this annoyingly long week was painfully different from the rest.

(Y/N) had done something on Monday.

JJ wasn’t sure what, but he knew something she had done had sent John B off the deep end. Because for the whole day, John B wouldn’t spare a kind glance her way. No matter how many times she’d initiate a conversation, nudge his arm, intertwine their hands, or even sit on his lap, John B was an absolute rock. His responses were short and curt and his eyes would focus on anything but her.

The next day is when John B really enacted his revenge.

(Y/N) was doing everything she could to get back into his good graces. That morning, she woke up early to stop at the grocery store. Buying so many things that JB’s fridge was fully stocked when she returned.

Breakfast was her first attempt. There was bacon crisping in the oven, sending a mouthwatering aroma to every Pogue in The Chateau. She was scrambling eggs on the stovetop for everyone, with a smaller pan on the side that contained eggs with cheese. By the time the toast was popping out of the toaster oven, everyone had come alive with growling stomachs.

JJ and Pope had dug right in, surprised but also very wonderfully pleased by the first home cooked meal they’d had in a while. Kie had given her a big hug first, requesting that (Y/N) wake her up next time to lend her a hand. But even as John B was served his favorite eggs with cheese for just him, he gave them the tiniest nibble, before pushing his plate away.

“Not hungry,” he shrugged moving on to a refreshing morning shower instead with even as much as a sympathetic glance back.

Kie and Pope were lost in conversation, but JJ had been a witness to it all. More than anything, he noticed the way her entire demeanor deflated as John B stalked off. The excited glint in her eyes was extinguished in haste. The crinkles at the corner of her eyes vanished alongside her smile. His heart squeezed at the sight. JJ had wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and pepper her with millions of soft, thankful kisses. Nothing she could’ve done would’ve been enough for JJ to evoke the same reaction out of her if she was his.

That afternoon, however, is when things took a completely opposite direction.

Energized by their hearty breakfast, they all decided it was a perfect sunny day to do some fishing and swimming. Kie and Pope had canonballed into the clear blue water when it happened. JJ was grabbing a beer from the cooler as (Y/N) sat next to John B who was laying on a towel, perched at the front of the boat.

She had leaned down to speak something privately into his ear. Except he shook his head, face devoid of any emotion. “You’ve been a bad girl (Y/N). You don’t deserve any attention,” his hushed dismissal was the only thing JJ managed to catch. The pout on her plump lips and furrowed eyebrows told JJ everything he needed to know. The gears clicked together in his head almost too quickly.

(Y/N), out of all people, had a praise kink that John B was currently exploiting.

The realization went straight to his crotch, his swimming trunks horribly constricting for the entire day. It made so much sense. She aimed to please, getting so excited when someone was happy with something she did. He honestly felt foolish for not catching on sooner. If someone asked JJ if he jacked off to her sweet voice begging him to destroy her in his imagination, he would immediately deny it.

By Wednesday, JJ was hooked.

There was no conversation that could capture his focus for long. Every moment of his time was devoted to her. The urges JJ had to rush to her and be her new source of comfort were becoming overwhelming but so was the need to bend her over any flat surface. He was on the verge of being diagnosed as bipolar with the amount of times his mood would swing. Every disheartened expression or bite of a lip had JJ physically twitching to remedy her frustration. But anytime she’d sit on John B’s lap and search for forgiveness with gentle touches and suggestive whispers, JJ would have to excuse himself to hide the new semi he was sporting.

(Y/N) and John B cuddled together during a movie night on Thursday evening. JJ thought for a split second that (Y/N) had finally wormed her way through John B’s walls. It didn’t even make sense to him how his best friend had managed to hold out for so long when she was completely irresistible. A little part of him was curious to know what she had done that originally started this. What had angered JB enough to drag this punishment out? By the relaxed tone throughout the movie, he figured he’d never get the answer to that question. At least he’d be able to go back to regular conversations instead of consistently excusing himself to the restroom.

But of course, JJ never seems to catch a break.

Kie had disappeared from the living room at some point to sleep in the guest bedroom. Choosing a comfortable bed over morning neck pain. Pope was on the couch, mouth drooling onto the cushion that was propped under his head. JJ had been basically forced into the sleeping bag on the floor with one measly pillow. Aside from the discomfort of the wooden floor, he had managed to fall into a deep sleep. There was a sudden noise lulling him awake.

Soft, harsh pants stirred him from his dreams.

The movie was still playing on the screen, but the volume had been turned down to leave background noise. Even with the quiet chatter, JJ heard the distinct, “please John B,” that fell from (Y/N)‘s lips followed by an angry scoff. His blue eyes peeked open, just the slightest bit, only to feel like he could pass out from what was occurring on the single seat next to the couch.

(Y/N) was sitting on John B’s thigh, hips grinding down at a rapid pace to chase her end. All the while JB was focused on the screen not paying any mind to the horny girl riding him. JJ could see the wet stains on her cheeks, beads of sweat falling down her forehead. She was moving with urgency, obviously close to her orgasm.

“Can’t believe you have the audacity to beg me to touch you after what you did,” John B muttered furiously in response to her. The only crack in his hard interior that let JJ know he was affected by (Y/N)’s actions was the tight grip at her hip. His other hand was lazily holding the remote on the beige armrest to exaggerate his disinterest. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her hips faltered. The closer she got to her end, the haze in her mind would betray her. Slowing her movements just as she was on the verge of falling into the abyss and traitorously bringing her back.

He snicked at her, feeling her feeble attempts to get herself off on his thigh. She had wet through her panties hours ago, drenching John B’s thigh and the inner corners of hers. Her apologies were falling on deaf ears. “I’m not helping you. You’re lucky I’m even letting you cum when you’ve been such a bad girl. Sluts like you don’t deserve it.” His filthy words were what did it. Instead of being put off by them, the quickening of her pace and quiet whine that escaped her lips let JJ know that she enjoyed being degraded.

(Y/N)’s movement came to a sharp halt, thighs squeezing around John B as her orgasm washed over her in waves. Her entire body tensed up, face twisting in pleasure. Underneath the over-sized t-shirt her shoulders shook slightly. For the sake of not being caught by the others, it took all her strength to keep the noises at bay while threatening to spill over at any given moment. JJ thinks he might be the one to beg to hear those sounds next. She collapsed against him, scratching at his chest with a small cry when he grinded up against her overstimulated pussy.

JJ didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

He found himself in the shower again hours later, fisting his cock repeatedly until he was cumming harder than he ever thought he could.

Friday night was finally the last nail hammered into his coffin.

The party was booming, every Kook, Pogue, and Touron joining together for an epic get together at the Boneyard. Alcohol was influencing the rager, people dancing around the bonfire with high spirits. They had all ridden in the Twinkie together but gradually dispersed throughout the night. Pope was trying, and failing, to flirt with a brown-haired Touron who was too drunk to understand. She was cute but clueless. Kie was dancing in the crowd with John B, enjoying the music and winding down from an eventful day at The Wreck. She was oblivious to the fact that the nonchalant guy in front of her wasn’t paying a lick of attention.

JJ was leaning against a palm tree, crushing a can of beer in his hand. He had been in a fowl mood all day, snapping at everyone over the smallest of inconveniences. He couldn’t help it, nothing he had done was able to satisfy his persistent hard-on. Any time (Y/N) was within his eyesight, even momentarily, all the blood would rush down between his legs. Every hair flip made JJ want to grab it into a ponytail and tug hard. Inches of exposed skin silently requesting to be marked by his teeth. JJ was so sexually frustrated that he was honestly considering taking some girl home tonight.

The idea was tempting as his blue irises raked through the crowd. There were some good options available. Sophie, his old friends with benefits, had been eyeing him all night. A red haired girl had flirted with him when he retrieved his second beer. Shit there was even a drunk Kook that had been throwing herself at him if push came to shove. Still, none of them were what he actually craved deep in his bones. Subconsciously, JJ found the girl he had been really after.

(Y/N) was seated on a log in front of the fire wearing a white flowy dress that ended at the middle of her thighs. It had two straps at the top that tied behind her neck. She was free of make-up, her natural features mesmerizing JJ even from a distance. Her silky hair was blowing past her shoulders in the soft night breeze.

The fire lit up her face with hues of red and orange. Her head was tilted up slightly, eyes sealed shut. She seemed distracted, mind far away from the craziness surrounding her. JJ’s head shifted to the side in curiosity as he noted the odd behavior. He watched as (Y/N) pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down harshly. Her hands had a death-like grip on the wood below her. Something was clearly wrong.

A surge of worry passed by JJ, wondering if the girl was okay. This week had been rougher on her than any of the other Pogues knew. He was the only one besides John B that was aware of the inner turmoil she was experiencing. This meant, Kie, (Y/N)’s best friend and confidante wasn’t clued into this secret that JJ had unintentionally stumbled upon. There was no way she could know the girl needed somebody. Deciding that he needed to take it upon himself to check up on her, JJ’s legs moved before his brain did.

He took a couple of strides in her direction with no decipherable sentence coming to mind. JJ had to think a little more instead of acting on a whim. He found comfort for his nerves in the red hat being snugly placed on his hair backwards before finally sitting down next to her. “Hey, you okay?” JJ’s tone held more compassion than usual, opting to rip off the band aid. Their normal playful banter was replaced by genuine emotion that JJ was struggling to contain.

(Y/N) didn’t even notice him sit until his voice was bringing her back from the pleasure she was floating off into. Her eyes were dark, filled with lust as they landed on JJ’s. Now that he was actually sitting next to her, able to properly focus and analyze her behavior, the color drained from his face as he became all too aware. Her thighs were pressed together tightly, nails digging into the wood. (Y/N) was breathing heavily, vibrations from the plug John B had inserted before leaving The Chateau were teasing her. Her boyfriend held the remote to the stupid thing and he had been turning it off and on all night. Sometimes she’d be in a casual conversation and have to excuse herself because he’d purposefully turn on the highest setting. Even making her spill a little bit of beer down her chin in front of Kie.

By now, (Y/N) was desperate. She was squirming in her seat, holding back the pornographic moans this device had taken her to. After withholding sex from her the entire week and choosing to insert this new toy he had purposefully disappeared earlier to buy, she was like a rabid animal. The intensity of repeatedly being brought to the brink and then cut off had broken any sense of normalcy she had managed to maintain. The fiery passion in her eyes was undeniable. “I-I’m okay- yeah,” (Y/N) practically squeaked out, one hand moving to crumble the hem of her dress in a fist.

John B was insatiable from where he stood. Although he was well aware of the state he had led his girlfriend into, just the sight of JJ sitting next to her set him off. His hand reached into his jean pocket, clasping the cheap plastic and turning on the max speed with several clicks to the plus sign on the right. It was stupid and idiotic, but the jealousy that flared didn’t let him act clearly.

(Y/N) tried to contain a gasp as her body jumped slightly at the sudden change. She knew exactly what John B was doing. He was marking his territory in front of JJ, who by the look in his face obviously knew what was going on. Without an inkling about how JJ felt, John B was still going out of his way to prove (Y/N) was his. Making her cum inches away from his best friend.

JJ knew it. Saw her eyes roll to the back, her mouth drop open and nose scrunch up. The pleasure overcame her body. The orgasm ripped through her body after being edged for so long. Her toes curled as John B forced her to ride out her high in front of him with no mercy. She was unable to hide the twitch of her thighs. Tears from the pleasure mixed in with embarrassment. JJ was frozen, rock solid in his cargo shorts. His face gave nothing away except his acknowledgment of the situation. The words to describe the hunger he felt had yet to be invented. At the same time his outrage at John B’s intentional deed simmered over.

The tension in the air was palpable with deafening silence consuming them. There was no ounce of awkwardness with the way both of them were stuck in their heads. She swallowed hard, looking away as her bottom lip trembled. Seeing as John B had no intentions of turning it off, only lowering the setting, she chose to retreat. There was no explanation that could hide or sugarcoat the truth. (Y/N) got up muttering an unintelligible excuse before she was disappearing behind the fire with a walk of shame.

JJ’s entire body was hot with adrenaline and need. A primal need to fuck the girl into oblivion was no longer in his control. The pure desire radiating off her body had pushed JJ past the boundary of respect. John B smirking victoriously towards Kie did nothing to aid JJ, only encouraged him to follow in the path that (Y/N) had headed towards.

She had found safety next to the Twinkie, crying freely into the crease of her elbow against the window. The vibrator was still going, overstimulating her yet she knew better than to take it out without being told to. John B had gone too far, giving in to the green eyed monster that veered his head. Her body was almost clinging to the van at this point when calloused fingers ran up the back of her thigh.

The warm touch alerted her to the presence of somebody behind her. (Y/N)’s back arched slightly on instinct, finally getting what she was craving. She felt so depraved, so starved. Just a simple graze had goosebumps spreading like wildfire. “John B- please- I-I can’t anymore. Take it out,” she cried pathetically, begging for some form of release.

JJ groaned at the tone of her voice, so ready and desperate. It was taking all his willpower to not bend her over right now and ram himself inside of her. Without speaking, his hand continued to travel up her thigh painfully slow. In her daze she missed the hesitancy in the touch that would’ve been hasty and quick had it been John B. His eyes were trained on the dress that was hiking up, exposing a delicious set of red lace panties. Precum stained his boxers just from the sight. JJ grabbed a handful of her ass cheek tightly, reveling in the way she pushed her ass out to him and whined.

“I’m gonna warn you right now (Y/N). If I’m the one that takes it out, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to forget what his name is,” JJ growled into her ear, hot breath washing over her hypersensitive skin. (Y/N) recognized the voice immediately, feeling the cold rings that belonged to this particular Pogue cooling her ass through the pain of the grip. Her forehead fell onto the window, a pitiful whimper responding to JJ’s offer. It was wrong, so so wrong. But the bulge pressing into her ass had her eyes fluttering shut.

JJ’s logic had quite literally left planet Earth. The only thing on his mind was her. The fear of rejection wasn’t even present. His hand confidently found a home in the curve of her hip, squeezing it tightly as he ground his cock into her ass pushing her further against the van. They both moaned, any hesitation fully dissipating with the wind.

“Take it out- take it out JJ,” she gasped, his name sounding like heaven as it fell from her lips. His new mission was to hear her scream it. JJ moved with newfound purpose, flipping her over harshly before he crouched down. “Hold your dress up and spread your legs,” the dominant tone of JJ’s voice sent a new rush of slickness down her thighs.

This was JJ, her boyfriends best friend, pulling down her panties in one swift move and licking his lips ready to devour her. “JJ please,” she was so vocal, feeding into his own filthy nature. What really almost made him cum in his black boxers was the sight before him. Her pussy was glistening, wrapped tightly around the softly buzzing vibrator. Her clit was swollen, puckering and aching. He licked his lips, imprinting this image in his brain.

JJ grabbed onto the end of it, teasingly pulling it out of her and back in which earned him a breathless moan. Her hips pushed down against it automatically, chasing the feeling. “You’ve been such a good girl all night, taking it so well,” JJ’s words had her free hand gripping the handle to the door. Without even letting her process it, his fingers were replacing the vibrator which found solace in JJ’s back pocket.

He shoved two fingers in deep, coating them with her previous orgasm in a matter of seconds. JJ nudged every corner, hitting every spot reachable in this position. He moved with skill, determination clear in the way his lips wrapped around her nub and sucked. (Y/N)’s breath was knocked out of her lungs at the sensation. Her jaw slacks from the pleasure as the spark at the pit of her belly grows into an untamable fire. JJ moved like a man who needed this to survive. He flattened his tongue against her clit, the tip poking into the entrance where his fingers were sliding in and out with ease. Finally tasting her sweetness forced a moan to ripple through him and into her.

(Y/N)’s head fell back against the window hard enough to hurt and yet she didn’t feel it at all. All her senses were hyper focused on the man between her legs. Each flicker of his tongue would make her knees go out. She would’ve been on the ground already had it not been for JJ’s hand digging into her thigh to keep her up as well as open. A particular curve of his finger had a high pitched noise tumbling out. JJ didn’t miss a beat, continuing with a new rhythm as he memorized what made her walls clench around him.

“I-I’m gonna- JJ, fuck,” she couldn’t even finish her sentence but he knew exactly what she was going to say. Everything became blurry, her chest heaving from the change in his movements. The muscles in her thighs tense, attempting to close subconsciously but JJ refuses to let them. His fingers dig into her thigh so hard they’ll be bruises in the shape of his hand tomorrow. Her climax was rapidly approaching, knot tightening in her abdomen.

His tongue circled her relentlessly. Everything wrong with what they were doing secretly inflamed her heat. (Y/N)’s mind went hazy from the increasing thrusts of his fingers. The pleasure exploding inside of her in a gut twisting way. JJ watched her face twist from the blissful waves causing her eyes to close. The intensity made her mind go blank as a string of curses were spoken. He forced her to ride out her high by lapping up everything that landed on his tongue. He savored the taste, unforgivingly continuing until her body was shaking from the stimulation.

(Y/N) didn’t even get a break. She was unable to catch a breath with JJ’s merciless assault. Her hand moved from the door to his head, pushing the cap off in favor of grabbing his blonde hair. He finally eased up when he was satisfied, pulling his mouth away and not hesitating to lick his lips. “Taste so fucking good princess,” JJ breathed out while his fingers gradually came to a stop. She squeezed his hair, a whimper coming out. It was hard to believe this was JJ Maybank below her, eyes gleaming after eating her out alive.

He stood up, moving the hand that had left imprints to fist her loose hair and tilt her head up. “Suck it off my fingers,” he demanded. The authoritative tone left her with no option but to open her mouth. Her tongue slipped between the two fingers sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. JJ’s already darkening eyes were pitch black now, hints of blue disappearing at her eagerness.

“You like that don’t you? Sucking your cum off my fingers. Wonder how your little boyfriend would feel if he saw you right now,” JJ taunted her. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes but her thighs moved to shut. JJ’s knee shot out before they could, grinding up against her overly sensitive mound. He was rewarded with a delicious moan that reminded him of his leaking member that was still trapped. “Say it princess. Whose gonna fuck you and make you cum a second time in a row?” The fingers that were in her mouth moved to wrap around her throat. He gave her the freedom to speak, his forehead dangerously close to hers. Their lips could meet if she moved just a little closer. The curiosity to find out what kissing him would feel like distracted her. The soft squeeze at her throat broke her out of the trance, reminding her to respond.

(Y/N) nodded for no reason, hips pushing down against JJ’s thigh to show how much she still wanted him. “You JJ. You’re gonna fuck me and make me cum again. Please- want it so bad, want your cock inside of me,” the neediness in her tone sent JJ into a frenzy. No imagination could come close to the real thing. His neck shot forward, their lips molding together in a passionate kiss. They moved in sync while JJ’s hand slid down, pulling at the strings of her dress to undo the knot in a swift move. His hand skimmed further down, kneading and squeezing every inch of her skin from her curves to her ass.

She was mewling in his mouth, every caress weakening her. It was hard to feel guilty with the way the rough pads of his fingers ran across her scorching hot skin. Her hands moved to unbutton his shorts falling prey to her desires. “Need it J,” the sincerity is what snapped him back into action.

JJ untangled their bodies to open the Twinkie, taking her hand so that she was standing in front of him and could go in first. Without saying it, he placed his palm at the center of her back. A soft push let her know to get onto all fours on the soft fabric of the seats. The van door slammed shut behind them before he was shoving his clothes off with urgency. A thought lit up like a light bulb inside his head as he finished undressing.

“If you want me to give you what needy sluts like you deserve, you need to answer my question,” JJ stated seriously as his hands tucked under the top of her dress. Now with the strap off, he was able to peel off the dress from top to bottom. The panties that had only been able to reach her mid thigh before JJ lost it, slipped off alongside the dress. Confusion settled into (Y/N)’s expression. Her right cheek was pressed into the seat, only getting a small glimpse of JJ’s face. “I’ll answer anything JJ please,” the apprehension as to what the question could be was drowned out by the throbbing between her legs. The anticipation was eating her alive and he was on an unholy plight to push every single one of her buttons.

JJ smirked devilishly while leaning down to press his bare chest against her back. His cock was standing up, solid from days of built up tension. He slid between her wet folds, earning moans from the both of them. “What did you do that made John B so mad?” He whispered into her ear before resting his forehead on the back of her head. His lips ghosted over the skin at the nape of her neck sending chills down her spine. It took a moment for her to put together what he was saying. The realization dawned on her face, unable to admit what he wanted to hear. JJ’s suspicion grew with the way her breathing stuttered.

“Doesn’t matter J, just fuck me,” she attempted to sway him away from the topic but being told to ignore it only made him more persistent. “Ah, ah,” he tsked in a disapproving tone. JJ moved his hips to continue teasing her, gradually sliding between her lips and get himself wet with all her juices. He’d move so far down that his tip would just barely nudge against her hole and then proceed to slide back. His hands disappeared around (Y/N)’s sides, grabbing hold of her breasts and massaging them roughly. His fingertips found her already hardened nipples, tugging and pulling to get his point across. “You want me to fuck your tight cunt? You’re gonna have to tell me sweet girl. Because I’ll walk away right now.”

(Y/N) whined in frustration. JJ’s attempts to make her comply worked all to well. Her heart was racing with impatience and every nerve ending was shot. She could feel just how long and big he was. It made her tighten pathetically around nothing. She wanted to cry to express the distress she was feeling. His hands played at her nipples, fogging her mind up even further. A high pitched noise waved the white flag as she gave in to his attack. The risk of JJ leaving right now outweighed the shitstorm that inevitably followed the truth. “I flirted with you Sunday night.”

JJ paused, his hope flourishing into fact. What JJ had deemed a concocted idea was in fact more than just a sexually fueled imagination.

(Y/N) walked into the kitchen, hair wet from a recent shower. Despite an exhausting day surfing at the beach, she still managed to walk with a bounce in her step and a smile on her lips. Her attitude was always contagious and distracting. “Hey J, not coming out for the movie?” she questioned, digging into the freezer. All the Pogues were camped out in the living room to watch a new movie while JJ was perched on the counter top with a beer in hand.

He ran his fingers through his hair, watching as she pulled out the last chocolate fudge bar which halted his answer. His eyebrow raised as she whirled around to him. She removed the plastic casing with no rush in the world, before wrapping her plump lips around the bar. JJ’s blue eyes trailed downwards, captivated by the way she bobbed her head up and down in such a suggestive way. Her question was long forgotten with a lick of his dry lips.

“That’s my bar,” JJ stated avoiding a comment on the affect her actions were having on him. He was also technically correct. Nobody else ate the fudge bars except for him. Although, he had been noticing that he was reaching the end of the box quicker than normal. Apparently he discovered the culprit. It was hard to actually take it seriously though, not when he could swear there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. Like she purposefully put on a show for him.

(Y/N) simply tilted her head to side biting her bottom lip. “And what are you going to do about it?” The question was innocent. Yet it sounded so risqué. Like she was tempting him to take it further than that. His muscles twitched to grab her right there. But John B clearing his throat from the kitchen entrance snapped JJ out of whatever that was.

He was too consumed by her lips, her doe eyes, the way her cheeks hollowed around the bar, all of it. JJ had barely noticed John B in that moment. The thought that he might’ve heard or seen anything didn’t even cross JJ’s mind. He just quickly got up and rushed past them to the living room. He had written the whole thing off. It was easier to convince himself that he had probably imagined the whole thing rather than feeding into a delusion where she had actually teased him.

JJ had been so right though. He had read her cues perfectly. Not only had she been flirting with him, but it was also the reason that John B was infuriated. The more he dwelled on the thought, the more his heart thumped louder. They all joked and flirted amongst themselves, John B did with Kie. It was all harmless. So John B getting mad at this moment meant he felt threatened by JJ. Like (Y/N) had given him a reason to worry.

The admission made something snap inside of JJ. A flood of emotions surged forward as the dam he had built to contain them collapsed under the strength of her honesty. He quickly removed his hands from her body to lift himself up. As promised, JJ lined himself up with her slick entrance. Any desire to see her down on her knees would have to be put on hold for next time. There was no way he could put this off any longer. He took just a second to nudge his tip passed the barrier and back to hear the starved whimper that she was unable to hold in. Finding sick pleasure in her shameless need for him. “Please JJ.” Without warning, right after she spoke, he slammed his hips forward. He forget everything except the feeling of being enveloped by velvety tight walls. A loud moan mixed in with a deep groan could be heard from outside the van. He reached deep into her like this, taking her breath away.

The grip around his cock could make him pass out. He muttered an inaudible cuss word, not giving her a second to adjust. JJ pulled out to the tip before shoving himself back inside her and repeating the motion until it grew into a consistent pace. (Y/N) was a broken record of moans and pleas. With every thrust her hips would rut back into him. The anticipation had been replaced with numbing pleasure. Her eyes couldn’t focus on a single thing, completely overwhelmed. His fingers tangled into her hair, shoving her further into the seat.

JJ used the new support to deepen and harden his pace. His hips were jolting into her and sending her forward each time. JJ was failing to hold back, milking every noise out of her sweet lips. The vibrator that was still in the pocket of his shorts that were now located on the floor began to vibrate loudly. JJ smirked viciously, digging into her hip for assistance to ram into her, admiring the way her swollen pussy swallowed his cock in between them. “Do you hear that? John B’s turning up the vibrator while you’re getting stuffed with his best friends cock,” JJ coed before his breath hitched at the tight squeeze his words evoked.

It shouldn’t have turned her on the way it did but she couldn’t help it. Her body reacted before she could. His lewd words reached kinks (Y/N) didn’t even know existed within her. She cried out as his balls slapped against her clit, shooting pangs of intense pleasure up her body. Her legs would be giving out soon, she wouldn’t be able to keep this up. Feeling (Y/N)’s end approaching, JJ fisted her hair and pulled her up against his chest with ease. “Who owns your pretty pussy now (Y/N)?” he panted, his hot breath fanning over the back of her neck at the new proximity.

(Y/N) moaned out loudly as he pounded back into her in this new position. He broke her train of thought before she even had a chance to think of a reply. The hand at her hip smoothed upward, pausing to grope her boob roughly. Her back arched in response with a sharp gasp before he finally landed on her throat. JJ squeezed, digging his fingers into her pressure point and loosening it to remind her to speak. “You JJ. JJ Maybank owns me and my pussy,” (Y/N) yelped hand moving to grip onto the seat while the other reached back into JJ’s blonde locks. JJ growled, increasing his pace when she jumped forward at a certain shift in angle.

Her eyes were glazing over as the fingers at her neck tightened. Their bodies molded together in a matching rhythm. Her hips jutted down to meet every single one of his upward strokes. JJ was using the grip on her neck to lift and slam her back into him. The filthy sounds of their bodies smacking together was the only thing heard in the foggy van. “So fucking tight,” JJ mutters, lips moving to suck a hickey into the back of her neck. Now that he had discovered how close she was with the way her body quivered in his grasp, he wrecked his way inside of her.

Knowing it was a bad idea, (Y/N)‘s head had still tilted to allow him room to mark her. She was a mess of endless mewls and echoed moans, too dazed by the way he was manhandling her. Her end was quickly building, eyes rolling as she fell back onto the curve of his shoulder. His hand left her hair to explore down the middle of her chest. He trailed a finger down her stomach before finally reaching the top of her pussy. His hand cupped her, fingers wrapping around her opening that was still engulfed by his twitching cock. He palmed at her clit, eliciting a loud cry from (Y/N).

“Beg me to make you cum like he can’t,” JJ slowed his hand to show he’d stop in a scarily calm way, making tears spill over from how hopeless she felt. At this point (Y/N) needed the sweet relief as much she needed oxygen in her lungs. “You already made me cum harder than he ever has-,” her breath caught as he dug his palm into her swollen clit at the confession, “I’m all yours JJ- please make me cum.” That was all he needed to apply just enough pressure to leave (Y/N) sputtering. Her eyes went black as the ferocity of her orgasm left her seeing stars. Her entire body writhed from the intensity. JJ groaned at the way her walls tightened around him. She was drifting into clouds of bliss while riding out her high.

It all encouraged him further to his own end. He removed his hand from her beyond sensitive clit to lay her down fully onto her stomach. JJ’s back stayed pressed against her, not slipping out in the slightest bit. With the new position, her walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t refrain from snapping his hips up to bring the unrelenting speed back to life. This time he was chasing his own end, using her warm hole to get himself off. (Y/N) was incoherent under him, utterly fucked out. “That’s it take it,” his hips lost rhythm, “take all my cum,” jerking upwards desperately. He moaned loudly into her ear, thick ropes of his cum painting her insides.

She shuddered feeling him stop as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing with every drop her clenching pussy squeezed out. They were both panting, the temperature in the van was absurdly high. His sweaty body gave out, hiding her naked one under his. She found the weight of it comforting in her post orgasmic fog. It took her a few minutes to properly come back. JJ had leaned up now, pressing electrifying open-mouthed kisses against the dips of her upper back. His hips shifted a little, earning a broken moan from the girl below him.

When he began to move, she leaned back, not wanting to end the fantasy bubble they had created. JJ shushed her with a small smack to her ass that made her jump. Both of them groaned at the sudden movement and he gripped the redden skin where his hand had just spanked. His other hand had vanished under the seat, reaching for vibrator that was still going off wildly. Her pussy spasmed in fear of the vibration inside of her again after the fucking he had just put her through. “Fuck Princess,” JJ hissed almost pinching her ass from the sensitivity.

The one act of kindness JJ had showed (Y/N), was flicking the manual switch to off on the device.

His fingers looped around the end of it, sitting up carefully.

Her ears perked up as the vibrating came to a stop. “JJ what are you doing?” (Y/N)’s shaky, fucked out voice rang through the silence. JJ felt no need to respond pulling out in one swift go. The feeling of emptiness didn’t settle because he was pumping the vibrator back into her, refusing to let any of the evidence vanish. Her muscles tightened, enduring the continued stimulation with a small puff.

“As much as I want to watch my cum drip out of your wrecked cunt..,” JJ’s voice drifted off as his blue irises dropped to the round curve of her ass. He was mesmerized by her worn out body. The marks he had left were giving in to his ego. His hand tenderly rubbed the skin down her back and squeezed at her butt. He’ll never get enough of the feeling.

“You’re gonna keep this vibrator in until John B undresses you at The Chateau. He’s gonna think he’s won, having made you cum in front of me, out of my reach. Then he’s gonna spread your bruised thighs. Shit he’ll even wonder why the vibrator could possibly be turned off. Then when he pulls it out, all of my cum is gonna drip out of his girls pussy for him.”

*****

Read Part 2 here

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please like, comment, or reblog💕

There will probably be 4 or 5 parts to this. If you’d like to be added to the taglist and kept up to date with this mini-series please comment below🫶🏼

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Prologue)

—

Tw: Danny is having a Certified Bad Time™️, dissociation, vivisection mention, suicidal thoughts (kinda?), basically just heavy angst for now

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

Note: you don’t need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the story, it’s mostly just to explore Danny’s headspace when he first escapes the GiW

(Pt. 1)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself as the truck he was in continued to speed along.

It had been an eternity since he was captured by the GiW. He didn’t know why they were moving him to a new base after all this time, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel afraid.

He couldn’t feel much of anything these days. The GiW had a routine and they stuck to it religiously, and that routine had sucked every bit of Danny’s soul out of him.

Something churned in his chest regardless. Anticipation? Excitement, maybe?

Perhaps they were finally going to let Danny fade. Was that a bad thing? Danny couldn’t decide if it was or not.

He wasn’t scared of fading. It seemed inevitable, especially with how he was treated on the daily. He would stop hurting if he faded.

Still, he’d like to see Jazz and Tucker and Sam at least one more time before he does. That would be nice.

The truck continues forward, unmoved by Danny’s thoughts.

The sound is nice, Danny thinks.

The hum of the engine, the crackling of pebbles being crushed under the tires, the electrical buzz of the anti-ghost handcuffs and shield keeping him trapped.

The only sound Danny’s heard the last few years has been the clatter of metal tools, the crunching of bone, the sawing and thunking and squishing of surgery, the murmur of voices.

It’s nice to hear something new, Danny thinks.

Strange, but nice.

The truck stops again. Another red light, probably. Danny continues rocking back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock.

Seconds pass. Second after second after second.

Danny hears shouting now.

Gunshots crack outside, and Danny sees holes appear in the side of the truck.

That’s definitely new.

Chaos is erupting outside. There’s a lot of screaming, and frantic footsteps, and cars zooming away.

The driver door slams open and shut. The truck speeds off, tires screaming as the driver swerves erratically.

Danny is thrown back and forth in the back of the truck, bumping up against the many weapons and other miscellaneous inventions stored alongside him. Pain blooms in his head and chest, an agonizing heat lining his surgical wounds. Danny licks his lips underneath his muzzle. It would be nice if the driver was a bit better at their job, he thinks.

The truck continues careening wildly.

Danny counts the seconds.

Second after second after second.

After around two thousand, three hundred and seventy four seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Danny didn’t lose count this time. He’s proud of himself.

The driver door opens and closes yet again. There’s chatter outside, excitement clear in the voices that Danny hears. There’s lots of talk of “congratulations,” and “lucky that the Bat didn’t follow you here.”

Then, the back of the truck is opened. Danny hears noises of confusion and shock. He turns his head, looking to see what’s happened.

There’s several men at the door of the truck. They’re wearing black tuxedo suits—Sam was right, black really is such a pretty color—and they’re staring at him.

They begin talking among themselves. Something about them not knowing about a kid, and not knowing what to tell the boss. It’s confusing to him. It’s not what he usually hears spoken.

Then, one of them climbs up into the truck. He approaches Danny slowly, speaking in a calm voice. He’s asking Danny if he can stand, he realizes, asking him if he knows why he’s in the truck.

Danny just stares at the silver glint of the gun at the man’s side.

It’s a nice one, he thinks. Semi-automatic, with a few modifications to make the reloads smoother and the gunshots quieter. His fingers twitch. He’d like to poke at it a little, see if he could improve it any.

The man notices where he’s staring and curses. He takes the gun and lowers it to the floor. Danny just continues to stare.

Silver is an ugly color, he thinks. He much prefers black.

Silver is the color of stainless steel, the color of lab and surgical equipment.

He doesn’t like it much.

The man reaches out a hand and grabs Danny’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

After a moment, he sighs, and hoists Danny up, carrying him effortlessly. He hands him to one of the men outside of the truck, hopping down himself a moment later.

They’re warm, Danny realizes.

He curls further into the new man’s arms, closing his eyes. It’s nice, he thinks, being held like this. He hasn’t been held with such care in a long, long time.

The man sets him down on a crate.

After a moment Danny opens his eyes again, watching as the many black-suited people take things out of the truck. He counts the inventions in his head as they do so, beginning to rock again.

Then, a new man enters the room, and everyone freezes.

He’s congratulating them, asking them about their escape, and then he spots Danny.

Danny would very much like to be invisible right about now.

“Where did you get him?” He asks, tapping his umbrella against the floor.

“He was in the truck,” the man who carried him says, “we don’t know why.”

The stout man looks at him closely.

“How did you get into a government weapon shipment? Did someone put you in there?”

Danny nods his head. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks painfully underneath his muzzle.

“You- someone get that thing off his face,” he says. Several of the other men scurry off, probably looking for something that can break the muzzle, “can you speak?”

Danny shrugs. He tries to talk again, but it seems that his voice doesn’t want to cooperate with him. The only sound he can make is a painful, broken wheeze.

“Hey,” the man says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “if it hurts to talk, stop trying, alright? We’re gonna get that muzzle and those cuffs off, and then we’ll figure out why you were in there. You know how to write?”

Danny nods.

“Good,” the man responds.

“You two, get something to write with,” he barks to a few of the other suited men. They, too, run off.

A few people come up, carrying a bolt cutter and a few other tools with them. They make quick work of the muzzle and handcuffs, the restraints falling to the floor with a clattering sound.

Danny looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. Slowly, slowly, he brings them up to his face. Thin fingers brush up against cracked, dry lips. He’s fascinated by the sensation.

Someone brought him a mirror, he realizes.

That can’t be right, though. The person looking back at him…isn’t him. That isn’t Danny.

That face is not his face.

Their cheeks are far too thin and sunken, their eyes dull and haunting. They’re far too old as well, they look like a young adult.

Still, they move when he moves. They stare at him with a look of fascinated horror that’s far too familiar.

He brings his hand up to his head, and they follow his movements. He trails his fingers over the stitches in his head, and they do the same.

Danny tries to speak, but is cut off by a painful cough.

One of the men brings up a pencil and notepad. Slowly, shakily, Danny writes down a question.

“What year is it?”

The man who had spoken to him earlier quirked his eyebrow up. He answers, and Danny freezes in place.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny looks down at his hands again. He looks into the mirror. The stranger staring back looks horrified. They look sad. They look…like him.

Danny lets out a mournful keening sound. He curls up into himself, covering his face with his arms. Distantly, he’s aware of someone rubbing circles into his back. He cries harder, his entire body shaking.

Three years.

It’s been three years since he was captured, three years of being cut open and sewn back together. Three years of burns and cuts and chemical damage and electrical shocks.

Three years of torture.

Danny sobs, hands gripping the thin fabric of his medical gown like a lifeline. Three years.

Danny’s being lifted up again. He wraps his arms around the person holding him and wails into their shoulder. Everything is quiet.

“I’ll deal with the kid,” the man holding him says, “the rest of you, finish unpacking the truck and dump it somewhere that the Bat won’t connect to me.”

The man brings Danny through the building, still rubbing his back comfortingly. He’s humming some song that Danny doesn’t recognize, occasionally pausing to bark orders at people.

Danny’s beginning to calm down now. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is beginning to even out.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt alive enough to cry.

He feels exhausted.

Danny tries to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible, but he’s so tired, and so sad, and he’s being held, and he’s warm, and…

Danny’s eyes flutter shut.

—

[madaqueue]

would you feel the noise?

playlists | "static" x steve lacy

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: modern non-curse au. angst, smut. mentions of gojo x geto. language, cheating (but your boyfriend does first lmao), alcohol, weed, substance use (ket but never explicitly stated), dubcon-ish (you're both high), semi-public + unprotected, p in v (missionary). 18+, MDNI

word count: 3.9k

a/n: this got a little angsty at points and is so incredibly self-indulgent anyways happy pride i will never back down from the bi gojo agenda!

It’s all so fucking fake.

But then again, was anything real?

The smoke filling your lungs is real. The burn with each inhale is real. The crackles of the bonfire, its shape transforming with each second, overwhelms the crashing of the waves. Certainly, that is real.

Faintly in the background finds the hum of conversation, the whispers of laughter. It was always so easy for them, worming their way into others’ hearts. Maybe it wasn’t real - maybe they were nothing more than parasites, feeding on each other’s desires to feel wanted, to feel seen.

Tossing the now-spent joint into the fire, you stand, legs slightly wobbly from the mix of weed and shitty beer coursing through your body. Finding your boyfriend seated around the fire, his hand resting on some unfamiliar girl’s thigh, the mix of sand and rocks beneath your feet crunches as you make your way to him. When his eyes catch yours, he takes no action to move from the damning position beyond a sinister smile growing across his lips.

“Hey babe, grab me another beer, would ya?”

Even the retorts that used to fill your mind aren’t there anymore - Why can’t you? Too busy talking to your new favorite slut, whatever girl decided to give you an ounce of attention? Or too busy pretending to promote your shitty music, as if this party is the one that’ll finally make you go big and get you out of this town you claim to hate so much? - as you nod.

Making your way up the grass-covered dune away from the beach, you pass other groups lost in their own constructed worlds. Reaching the car, you pop the trunk and grab two beers from the cooler before returning down the shadowed path to the beach.

Maybe it’s seeing his arm wrapped around her. Maybe it’s the way you wish the flames would engulf them, consuming them until there’s nothing left. Maybe it’s just that you’re too fucking tired of this. But when you find yourself approaching the group around the bonfire, your legs won’t bring you there. Sighing, you turn towards the ocean - maybe you could find peace in the waves instead. When your body senses the presence of someone else seated on a washed-up log, the one you had hoped to reside on until your boyfriend decided it was finally time to leave, it was already too late.

His white hair glows under the moonlight as he turns over his shoulder to face you, his blue eyes unmistakable even in the dimness of night.

“Satoru?”

He looks different, yet distinctly the same. In the years since highschool he had grown, but something about him looks wrong, as though his soul was gone, nothing daring to take its place. Seating yourself next to him, the lingering dampness of the wood cool against your thighs, the changes are more prominent up close: his frown lines are deeper, his eyes less bright. Even his shoulders fall forward under an unidentified weight, one he was unable to carry. The light inside him had finally dimmed.

“Hey,” he weakly smiles, “it’s good to see you. Been a while, huh?”

Shock is dulled by the combination of substances in you, yet your heart picks up speed at hearing his voice again after so many years. At least it still remembers him. “Yeah, it has been.” Your arms instinctively move to offer him a beer, as though you were back in the highschool dorms sneaking in liquor before a party. “What are you doing here?”

Reaching out a hand he accepts the drink, the condensation momentarily tethering him to reality as he shrugs, gaze still focused downwards on the sand at his feet. “Thought it might be nice to see people.” Lifting the bottle he takes a sip, the taste familiar despite the years since he last shared a drink with you. “Why are you here?”

Without turning around, you tilt your head back to gesture at the group gathered behind you around the fire. “Came here with my boyfriend, he said there were supposed to be some producers here or something that might like his music.”

Gojo seems to sink into himself for a moment as he mumbles a soft, “Oh.”

Silence blankets you, yet something in it is comfortable, a lack of pressure to speak just for the sake of hearing yourselves talk. As you both sip your beer, he senses the changes in you, in the way you move your body. There’s a new rigidity, a tightness in your muscles as though every move took a concerted effort. You used to be so free, so unencumbered, a stark contrast to the tension that buzzes around you.

As he finishes his drink he places it into the sand before rummaging through the pockets of his jeans. Pulling out a small plastic bag, he gathers his keys, collecting the white substance inside before lifting it to his nose and inhaling. Turning to you, he holds out the baggie. “Want some?”

You don’t know why you say yes, perhaps some combination of fatigue and curiosity, an implicit trust in Satoru that he wouldn’t lead you astray. “Sure,” you nod with a sly grin. Lifting his key to your nose, you take the bump, the substance trickling through your sinuses and burning the back of your throat.

He smiles, seeing a glimmer of the girl he once knew: the nights you’d sneak out from the dorms, handles of vodka hidden under your jackets; hotboxing his first car, a shitty sedan that broke down a few months later, the smoke fogging up the windows; the barefoot runs through backyards, hopping over fences when cops would inevitably show up at the party you attended. “Not even gonna ask what it is?” he teases, his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

You shrug, still smirking as you lean back, your hands resting on the damp wood. “Would’ve said yes no matter what.” Memories - or rather, blurs of them - flash through your mind, the days that turned to weeks you could barely remember, hunting for anything to numb the pain that dug itself into your bones. Every emotion was another ache, your joints creaking under the weight of surviving each day. Weed and alcohol happened to be the most accessible forms of escape, but at this point your body barely felt like your own, your cells simply a form to contain the lingering shreds of your soul.

He hums in response, allowing silence to settle upon you once again. The waves crashing begin to blend together, their sounds muffled in your ears. Has your body always felt so heavy? All you can feel is the cool wood beneath your palms and the warmth of Satoru’s arm next to yours, prickling your skin with his proximity. Your vision seems to pulse with each beat of your heart, each crashing wave of the sea. Are you the ocean? Is it breathing?

“Hey,” Satoru turns to you, moving as if in slow-motion. His eyes are glowing under the light of the moon, his smile making your cheeks feel warm. “Wanna get out of here?”

For a brief moment, you remember why you’re here, the boyfriend you left behind by the bonfire. Slowly, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes eventually focus in the distance, finding his form illuminated by the crackling flames as he’s making out with the girl you saw him talking to before, his hands grabbing at her hips. That piece of shit. You should be angry, you should go up there and confront him, but instead of rage you just feel free. “Mhm,” you hum, the sound seeming to echo through your vision.

You feel yourself starting to float away, taken under in the current, until Gojo’s fingers intertwine with yours, pulling you back to the surface. Your legs wobble as you stand, his grip on your hand tightening as he leads you away from the party down the beach.

With each step, the sand crunches under your bare feet.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

You can’t help but giggle at the sound - how could your body make that? The miniscule pebbles adjust under your weight, leaving damp footprints in your wake.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

“What’s so funny?” Satoru turns to you, a smile plastered on his face.

“I crunch,” you laugh, momentarily turning your gaze down as your words land in the open air.

And he giggles, the sound bright under the dark sky. Picking up his knees, he slams his feet into the ground, forcing loud stomps to echo as you both laugh. Marching along the beach, you continue your path, holding tightly to one another as your joy bubbles into the air.

Rounding the corner behind an outcropping of trees, you find yourselves in a secluded cove, away from the noise of those gathered at the party on the other side. Gojo plops down on the sand, his body thudding as he lays back. You mirror his motions, unconcerned with the dirt coating your clothes as your back hits the ground.

Staring at the sky, you feel yourself wanting to be a part of it, to meld into the darkness, a cloud tethered to the land with lead. Heavy. Yet, you’re grounded by Satoru’s presence, the cool scent of his cologne, the gentleness of his thumb rubbing over your hand.

Glancing at him, he looks younger, no longer consumed by the years that had passed. His boyish youth has returned once again as his eyes lazily fix themselves upon the stars, as though each pinprick light heals him little by little.

He looks the same as the last time you saw him, the day of your highschool graduation. You promised to keep in touch, but as it often does, life got in the way. He and Suguru promised to call, to come visit, but with moving and work and the recurring responsibilities of adulthood, your friendships dissolved over time. On your part, you similarly assured them you would stay a weekend in their shared apartment downtown, a vow you failed to keep, recalling the pictures they sent you after moving in together. Suddenly, the striking absence of Geto fills your mind.

“Where’s Suguru?” you ask, your voice hitting your own ears before you realize what you’ve said.

Gojo tenses next to you for a moment, a flash of something - regret? - momentarily crossing his features before he settles back into the numbing bliss. Yet, hearing his name is enough, his mind forcing him to relive it, to feel it again.

The fights.

“You just don’t understand me, Satoru.”

“Because you don’t let me understand you - you don’t let me in! It’s impossible, Suguru, I don’t fucking know what you want!”

The pain.

“Then maybe you should stop trying.”

“Suguru, that’s not what I meant-”

“Why try to do something impossible? That’s not fair to either of us.”

The emptiness.

“It’s for the best, Satoru. We can’t love each other in a way that matters.”

“Suguru, please-”

“I’ll never forget you.”

Sighing, his gaze remains fixed on the sky. “We broke up.”

“Oh,” is all you can get out, barely able to process his words but feeling the hurt lingering behind them. “I’m sorry he lost you.”

A weak smile tugs at his lips. “It’s okay. I’m over boys, anyways,” he laughs, slipping back into the substance-induced euphoria he forcefully brought himself, a welcome embrace as he allows his thoughts to once again melt away. “Speaking of which,” he murmurs, the vowels drawing out, “how long have you ‘n’ your boyfriend been together?”

The stars seem to connect, each one a memory of the time you spent with him. “Eight months.” Each point a constellation of your past, yet none of them make you happy. Mostly, it’s just him taunting you, pushing you away, using your emotions against you. The times he’d pressure you into coming with him to a club only to find him making out with some girl in the corner; the concerts he’d bring you to and conveniently forget to introduce you to his friends; the nights he’d promise that this time he’ll be there, he won’t stand you up again, and the silent taxis home alone. “But I don’t love him.”

“Oh?” Satoru whispers, as though lowering his voice would allow him to better understand yours. “Why not break up with him?”

Your shoulders shrug, pushing the sand around them up. “‘s nice to have someone around, I guess.”

“I get that,” he quietly murmurs, gaze still fixed above. You simply hum in response before you feel him shift next to you. “Hey, I have an idea,” he breaks the silence, his smile evident in his words, the letters curling up at the end. “You should be my girlfriend.”

A chuckle in the shape of his name erupts from your throat as you entertain the idea, one that is completely, and utterly, impossible.

“I’m serious!”

Your head lazily flops to the side, your cheek resting against the cool sand as you meet his gaze, a blissed-out grin on his face. Under the moonlight, he looks angelic, his skin perfectly smooth, the curves of his body contrasting against the darkness of the woods behind you. In his soft eyes, you find a peace you didn’t realize you had been searching for, a silent promise behind them.

“Okay,” you giggle.

Before you can process the words, his smile widens, his shoulders relaxing as they release a weight he didn’t know he held. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, the word making your body warm with its vibration, in tune with the frequency of the universe.

For a moment you just lay there, the crashing waves against the shore, a shared adoration flowing between you. Satoru blinks, his eyelids resting closed before he reopens them, his demeanor visibly brightening every time his gaze finds you laying next to him, as though he temporarily forgets your presence only to reexperience the joy of finding you again.

“Do you wanna go swimming?”

As if on cue, your senses momentarily shoot through your body, jean shorts digging into your hips, the warm cloth of your tank top over your shoulders. “Now?” you chuckle.

“Mhm,” he beams. “I bet the water’ll feel amazing.”

Something deep within your soul trusts him, submitting to his desires. “Okay,” you grin before sitting up.

Crawling towards each other, you allow yourselves to close the distance between you on your hands and knees, your motions abiding by a planet-sized magnetic pull. Grazing your hands over his chest, you help him remove his shirt, your palms lingering over his firm chest. Since you last saw him, he had filled out perfectly, no longer the scrawny teenager you once knew. Now, his muscles ripple as he lifts your tank top above your head, simultaneously undoing each other’s shorts, as though separating your touch for even a moment would cause you to lose one another, to lose yourselves in the darkness. Tossing your clothes in the sand, crisp air tingles your skin, covered only by a bra and panties, while Satoru, now adorned only in his boxers, returns his hand to yours. Squeezing your palm, he glances over at you, a silent reassurance behind his eyes.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

With that, you’re running into the sea. The water momentarily shocks you as cold pricks at your skin, but Satoru pulls you deeper and deeper until you’re both diving under the waves. Resurfacing, shared laughs echo along the ocean. He shakes out his hair, cool droplets landing on your face as you jokingly shove him away. Easily catching your wrists he pulls you closer, the warmth of his chest hitting yours a welcome contrast to the icy sea. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as his rest along your lower back, holding you against him.

Each wave has you bobbing slightly, grounded only by the brightness of his eyes. They flit across your face, your flushed cheeks, soft lips curled into a grin. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs.

His body feels solid, well-defined against the fluidity of your surroundings. “You are too,” you giggle.

Gaze never faltering, you both lean closer, and closer, and closer, until his lips meet yours. They’re soft, slightly cool after being outside all night, as you sigh into him. There’s a subtle sweetness lingering as his tongue swipes against yours, a quiet desperation behind his actions. Suddenly, cool air hits your skin as he carries you out of the water, sand hitting your back as he carefully lays you along the beach.

Pressing his weight against you, the kiss becomes messier, teeth bumping as your lips clash. Despite the breeze rustling through the leaves of nearby trees, you feel warm, a comfort in the imprecision. His clothed erection pushes against your core, your hips bucking against him as you moan into each other’s mouths. The friction is addicting, the damp cloth rubbing perfectly against your clit. Your thoughts are fuzzy, your body acting on its own as your palms trail over his back, lower and lower until they’re pawing at his waist.

“Need you,” you mutter into him, “need you s’bad.”

His head falls slightly, finding a place in the crook of your neck as he places wet kisses along your skin, a slight saltiness lingering on it. “Y’sure?” he whispers.

“Please, Satoru,” his name leaving your throat shockingly clear, the only thing cutting through the haze, finally granting you a second of clarity through the substance- and lust-induced fog.

Hearing you call his name, a shiver runs up his spine, as though it was the first sound he ever heard, as though he was reincarnated to live in this moment forever. Pulling down his boxers, his cock springs out as you tug your panties down your legs, meeting their fate in the sand.

Positioning his hips, he aligns himself with your entrance, his hands glued to your hips. Slowly, slowly, slowly thrusting into you, your walls stretch around him, your soul tearing open and releasing the white hot light of ecstasy.

“Oh fuuuuuuck,” he groans as he enters you, his eyes rolling into his skull, jaw slacking open.

Your hands trail up his back to land at his face, cupping his jaw as you softly giggle at his total loss of any remnant of shame, allowing the feeling of your body, your warmth, to completely overtake him, releasing the most primitive, desire-driven version of himself. Pulling him back into you, you rejoin his mouth to yours, tongues mingling in the space between them. Rolling his hips into you, each thrust sends wave after wave of euphoria up your body. Atoms align perfectly, allowing you to slip into one another, the distance between you infinitely approaching zero. You only exist at the points where his skin touches yours, his pelvis smashing into you, his fingers digging into your waist, the warmth of his lips and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes.

You aren’t quite certain if your eyes are open or closed, the darkness clouding your perception indeterminately from the sky or the inside of your eyelids. Either way, the scene is beautiful, each sensation painting a new color across your vision. Satoru’s cock pressing into your gummy insides, purple; his hand trailing up your torso to lazily grope at your tits, green; his hot breath as he whines with each imprecise thrust, blue. The image evolves, ever changing, impossibly beautiful. When his voice hits your ears, it immediately brightens, somehow even more complex, a masterpiece of sensation.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, never daring to separate his lips from yours, “y’were made f’me.”

“Made for you,” you babble back, and you truly do feel it, the way your walls meld around his length, how your bodies perfectly fill in each dip and curve of the other’s, your souls fitting perfectly against one another. “Best thing, feel s’good.”

“So, so good,” he whines, “so warm ‘n’ sweet.”

“Sweet, sweet,” you mumble into him, the taste of booze and something sugary lingering on his tongue. “Soft.”

“Mmm.” He shivers as your hands roam his body, one ascending to his hair and one trailing down his spine, tracing imprecise patterns into his skin. “Love you,” he spills.

The words tumble out before he could stop them, his hips momentarily stilling as he hears them. Before he could retract them, the hand in his hair pulls him further into you, your back arching off the sand as you whisper your response. “Love you s’much.”

Some part of you feels it’s just your body reacting, the bare minimum networks active to recite language. Yet, a deeper part knows it’s true, a quiet love you’ve always held for Satoru. Perhaps now, in the absence of your better judgement, the self-imposed cognitive rules, this piece of you is finally free to enact its control, speaking its truth, allowing it to be heard, felt.

At your affirmation, Satoru lets out a blissful whine, his thrusts picking up their pace yet somehow softening, a new tenderness behind them. You love him. He doesn’t even know what it means, really - after Suguru, his perception of love changed irrevocably. Yet, as he feels the warmth of your skin beneath him, the comfort of your presence, he doesn’t feel a pressure to know, a whisper of meaning lost into the waves of the ocean.

In your shared ecstasy, back and forth mindless babbles continue filling the air, the shape of the words gliding across your vision. It’s beautiful, you think, the way sounds create shapes create meaning; maybe that’s what you’d been looking for: meaning.

No, you had meaning - hell, sometimes you think you had too much meaning. Maybe you needed the absence of meaning, a stillness, a silence. Your life had been too rough, too tumultuous, whitecapping waves covering the oasis of your thoughts. No, you needed unbroken waters, a calm pond to sink into. As your fingers trail over the smooth skin of Satoru’s back, you feel yourself wading into the depths of his soul.

The thrusts of his hips, the rasp of his breath, consume your senses. He melts into you, you melt into him, both of you becoming grains of sand and stars in the sky. In another moment you expand, becoming the sea and the moon, watching over one another, a patient influence over each other. The connection ties you together, without expectation, without pain, simply content sharing your presence.

His arms begin trembling above you as your legs tighten around his waist, holding him against you. A light appears in your chest, the fire of desire burning larger as each prod of his tip fans the flames. Brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until it consumes you. Your vision goes white, your skin flushing hot. Satoru’s moans are far away as his entire body twitches, taught under the strings of pleasure.

You both come undone together, melding into the universe, two comets in space, two suns circling. The collision of your soul ignites, explosive heat surging through your bodies.

As your senses return, you feel nothing but warmth as he rests above you. Your gaze focuses on his, blown pupils glowing down at you. Cheeks pushing up, you both grin impossibly wide as giggles bubble into the stillness around you. Resting his damp forehead against yours, breathy pants fill the air, desperate to fill your lungs with the cool night air. Placing your lips to his, your thoughts finally quiet, your soul finally at ease. In him, you think you’ve finally discovered the missing shard, uncovering the truest form of yourself, the euphoria you had been searching for: peace.

[calxia]

The Runaway PT3

Part 1, Part 2

If it weren’t for the groan he had made, it would have been very easy for the other ghouls to have overlooked Phantom’s prone form collapsed in the mud. He was coated from horn to tail with a thick layer of the foul-smelling stuff. With the way he was curled into himself, he could have easily been mistaken for a misshapen rock.

Rain and Cirrus rushed forward as soon as it clicked what (or rather who) they were looking at. They were cold enough just standing in the rain, but Phantom must be absolutely freezing caked in mud as well. They had zero idea just how long he had been collapsed. The scent trail by the road had already grown stale when they first started tracking him down. It could have been hours since he had left the abbey, and it had been raining most of the night. Of course, the younger ghoul was foolish enough that he would try to run away during the first storm of the year.

They grabbed what they thought was the quintessence ghoul’s arm and attempted to heave him back upright. It was hard to keep a firm grip on him- the mud made him as slippery as one of the eels Rain regularly pulled out of the lake. Phantom was a complete deadweight in their grasp. If it wasn’t for his quiet groans as they moved him, they would have presumed him dead. After a few minutes of tugging and manoeuvring, they managed to get him propped semi-upright between Swiss and Dew. They were both channelling their fire elements to increase their core temperatures and project their heat onto the filthy ghoul between them. He was so cold to the touch. Even the forever-cold Rain had noticed just how freezing he felt while lifting him.

They needed to get him up the hill and back to the abbey as soon as possible. They needed to get him out of his soaked clothes and into something dry before he became hypothermic. The only option was for someone to carry him up and hope that Mountain and Copia had arrived with the car. Even a ghoul of phantom’s diminutive size and stature would be hard to carry the unresponsive ghoul up the him, with the others following behind to hopefully stop them if Swiss were to fall.

They were short on time, so it would have to do.

They all had to work together to get Phantom’s prone form settled onto Swiss’s back as securely as possible. Phantom was boneless and no help as they tried to hike him further up on Swiss’s broad back. It wasn’t sturdy, but it would have to work for them. They started up the slope, the ever-progressing storm beating down upon them.

It was a slow-going ascent. Every few meters, the group would slide back at least a meter in return. It was tiring and it felt like they were not getting any closer to the road. The group was getting exhausted. They’d already been starting to get tired when they had reached where Phantom’s scent changed direction, but the trek down the hill had drained them.

They had to keep going though.

Phantom’s life depended on it.

It was slow going but eventually, they made it up to the roadside where they had left Cumulus waiting for Papa. She had moved to sit down in the grass while she waited, the harsh rain saturating her white curls. At the sound of the other ghouls stumbling through the overgrowth, Cumulus spun around to face them a look of concern flitting across her face. She shot up from the grass and rushed to help them up the final bit of incline.

“Oh gosh, did you guys find Phantom like this?” she nervously questioned as she flitted behind Swiss to help relieve him of the deadweight that was the younger ghoul.

“He was buried in the mud by an overflowing river. Has Papa and Mountain passed by yet?” Cirrus answered her as she moved to take the other side of Phantom’s weight.

A few hours had to have passed since they first set off from the abbey, and they were sure they hadn’t cleared that much land for it to take that long for Papa to catch up with them, but they would have to wait until they arrived. There was no way that they would be able to get Phantom back home with the torrential storm without someone getting hurt or the quintessence ghoul dying.

They would have to hunker down and try and keep him as warm and sheltered as possible. They settled down where they would still be visible from the road but had some shelter from the trees and formed a ghoul pile around the small ghoul with the warmest of the pack closest to him.

And then the waiting game started.

[starwarsmum]

A new fic? Me? Must be Wednesday 😅 this is based off a prompt for @apileofashandember about Marinette meeting the batfam through Penny ❤️

The rating on this is Mature because it gets a little spicy further down the line! You have been warned 😘

Chapter 1: A Liar Ruins a Website

Marinette sat alone in her room, hands scrunched in her hair as she muffled her screams into her bed. Her laptop sat innocently on her pillow, new comments popping up every few minutes on her now ruined website. 

“Make a website, Jagged said, it'll get your name out there, he said,” she complained to Tikki. The tiny god wisely said nothing, but settled itself into her hair. “How did that liar even find out about it? No, don't answer that,” she added when Tikki took a breath. “If I don't take my website down now, my name will be ruined, and I will never design professionally again.”

One short internet search later, and her heart broke as she changed the code to an out of service message. She would have to email the half a dozen clients that she had secured in the past month or so, and contact Jagged and Penny to let them know. It wasn't fair, she had worked so hard on making her website cute and fun. And now all of that hard work was ruined.

She sighed and opened up her group chat with Jagged and Penny, looking back at the good luck messages she had received from them about the website. It made her miss the early days of her commissions, when Jagged had asked her to make a pair of sunglasses and an album cover.

Nette: hey, just to let you know, I had to take the site down. someone said I stole their work and I got a bunch of hate

Auntie P: what?! who dares? I'm sorry Nette, that's awful

Uncle J: that's not rock n roll! is it that girl you told us about? Leela? Layla? 

Nette: probably, not that I can prove it

Marinette sighed, rubbing her eyes. She fired off the emails to her clients, hoping to get ahead for the night. She had finished her homework, but she still had an hour or two before she crashed for the night so she was hoping to get at least one of the designs finalised.

She got lost in the designing process, fresh pages becoming covered in sketches and annotations. She surfaced from her work after Tikki reminded her that she had school the next morning, so she readied herself for bed. When she checked her messages again before she went to sleep, she saw a new one flashing on the group chat.

Aunt P: if you need a hand rebranding, creating a new website, just let us know. we're proud of you for being so mature with this and we'll help you succeed

Nette: thanks both, I may take you up on that. I just need a couple of days to get over this setback and we'll sort it

It was after a fitful night's sleep that Marinette awoke, late as usual, and ran through her morning rituals. She shoved her hair into a bun, dragged on a semi-respectable outfit and grabbed a croissant on her way through the bakery. Now that she was in lycée, she had to travel further in the mornings. Fortunately, with the motorcycle she had finally passed the test to drive, she didn't need to rely on public transport to get there.

“Girl, are you okay?” Alya raced up to her as she pulled into the lycée car park, throwing her arms around Marinette. “Lila told us your website went down last night, right when she was about to submit a request! What happened?”

“Someone started a rumour that I stole my designs and it meant a bunch of people started trashing the site,” Marinette said, trying to keep her voice even. She couldn't help stressing the first word, as she knew who was likely behind it, but she regretted it when Alya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Not again, Marinette! I know it's been hard for you since you and Adrien didn't work out, and now it looks like he and Lila are going to start dating, but you need to stop with the jealousy! I love you, girl, but you get so into your head about him.”

“Alya, I didn't even say anything!” Marinette protested, weariness settling back onto her like an old, heavy blanket. “Look, whatever, it's not important right now. We're going to be late to class if we don't hustle.”

“I know you, Mari, you always think it was Lila!” Alya sounded exasperated, and it wasn't like Marinette could refute it. They walked along the hallway to their lockers, nodding at their friends as they passed. “And I get it, really, you can't help how you feel, but like I've told you before, you have to look at things objectively to get to the truth!”

Marinette bit her tongue, not wanting to point out that Alya’s blind insistence that Lila would never do such a thing was just as subjective as her believing that she had. She deliberately changed the topic to something else, ignoring the disapproving look her best friend shot her.

When they entered their classroom, Marinette greeted her other friends, sliding easily into her seat. She had chosen to sit at the back of the class so that nobody could say she had to give up her seat to someone else, reducing the upset it caused when Lila started spinning tales. She was fortunate that Lila had been placed in a different class in the previous years, but in her last year of lycée, her luck had finally run out.

“Oh my gosh, Marinette, I heard about your website!” Came the liar's high pitched faux-concerned voice. It grated on her that she would have to play nice with Lila once again, as Lila got her jabs in at Marinette. “It's so scary that someone would start a rumour about your work ethic, with so little evidence! Adrien and I were talking about it last night, he's always saying how you're still such a good friend to him.”

“Yeah, well, actually there's no evidence of me stealing designs because it's one hundred percent untrue,” Marinette said blandly, staring Lila down. She ignored the distressed noises the other girl started to make and waved a hand. “It doesn't matter, I have a few commissions to get through, but then I should take a break from designing to focus on the BAC anyway…”

Everyone around her told her it was such a shame that she wouldn't be able to take on new commissions for a while and she nodded glumly. She had no intention of stopping designing, of course, but this would hopefully give her some breathing room whilst she got herself set up again - anonymously this time. 

Which sadly meant that Max was no longer an option for making a new website. As much as she loved her friends, they really didn't look too hard at Lila's fantastic stories, which meant they would blithely tell the witch when Marinette set up again. This way, she would make a name for herself separately, and claim the brand in a few years once it was fully legitimised.

The lessons that day felt like they dragged on forever, Marinette just wanting to go home and make some progress on her commissions. She had learned to keep her sketchbooks at home - she didn't want to lose her work to people like 14-year-old Chloe - so she focused on trying to get a headstart on her homework whenever she had a free minute.

“Marinette! We were just talking about our Christmas plans, girl, weren't you making a bunch of designs for the local nativity play?” Alya beckoned her over and Marinette hid the grimace that threatened to cross her face. “Wow, that's so cool! Did you volunteer or something?”

“Not really, they saw some of my work and offered me a reasonable price for their main costumes for the play,” Marinette answered, wary of where the conversation would go next. She had stopped doing freebies for her friends, which had upset them until she had explained that she wanted to go to university in America and needed to spend all of her time on paid commissions. 

“Oh, it's so nice for you that you're comfortable taking pay from such an underfunded space, Marinette!” Lila put in, sounding sweet as per usual, but with all of the underhandedness that Marinette was accustomed to. “I was just telling Rose that I'm planning on volunteering my time at a soup kitchen throughout the Christmas period. My friends, Damian and Tim, their family funds a few different charities both here and abroad. Do you think Adrien will be able to help out too?”

“You should probably check with his aunt,” she replied flatly, refusing to be baited into an argument about whether she should be doing the costumes for free. “I need to go and eat, excuse me.” She pushed away from the table, feeling drained again and resolutely ignoring the conversation that picked up about Lila's ‘friends’. Marinette was sure that whoever Lila was claiming to know this time had no clue who she was and she wasn't going to get stuck in that mess.

She toyed with her phone before deciding that she absolutely needed a new website and that Penny's friend was likely her best bet. So she crafted her message, begging Penny to put her in touch with her computer whiz before slogging through her homework and lunch.

_ _ _

Marinette sat nervously at her desk later that evening, waiting for the video call Penny had promised her. They had decided a three-way call was the best way to introduce them both, but as the other two were in America, it was later than Marinette would have liked for a video call.

Tikki was sitting quietly on her shoulder as she sketched anxiously. She knew that whoever Penny was introducing her to would be nice enough, but she was always unsure of meeting new people. She added a few details to her work, and jumped when the laptop began ringing. She hastily accepted the call, twisting in her chair and tapping her fingers.

“Hi, Nette,” came Penny's bright voice. “And hey Babs, thanks for coming on the call to help. Marinette, this is Barbara, an old student of sorts. I worked with her back when I was an aide at Gotham U, she was studying library science with a minor in computer sciences. Babs, this is Marinette, Jagged's personal designer. She's done a ton of his more recent album artwork and designed all of his stage outfits for the last 2 years. She's also our honorary niece.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Marinette!” The woman was leaning towards her screen, scrutinising the teenager. Marinette eyed her as well, seeing a whole mane of red hair and glasses above a broad smile. “Penny mentioned you needed some help with a website, though she didn't mention you were so accomplished already.”

“Ah, yes, I had some recent trouble with my own website and I don't have enough technical know-how to create something secure. I'm planning to go anonymous, to prevent the same thing happening again, but I have no idea where to start,” Marinette explained, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. 

“And how do you plan to get clients if you have no base to start from?” Babs was beginning to type furiously, a gleam in her eyes. “Don't get me wrong, I'm sure your work is wonderful, but if you don't have any endorsements, isn't it really hard to break onto the fashion scene?”

“Oh, well I thought I'd have Jagged do the introduction, if that's okay, Pen? Because I'm under 18, I didn't tell anyone except my maman that I was working with Jagged and she promised to keep it to herself. I figured that way I can sort commissions and won't have a problem with getting new clients.”

“Wicked idea, M!” Came Jagged's voice from off screen, making her giggle. “Babs, let us know when you have her site up and running and I'll rep it on my socials. Rock n roll, girls!”

So they worked out the logistics moving forward, Marinette trading contact info with Barbara and promising one evening a week to go over the website details. It was everything Marinette had hoped for when Penny had offered to connect her with a friend. When the call finally ended, it was closer to midnight in Paris and she was relieved that it was a weekend the following day.

“That went well, Marinette,” Tikki squeaked at her, floating around head height as the girl got herself ready for bed. Marinette agreed before collapsing into bed with a groan. It didn't take long for her to pass out, a slight smile on her face.

[minor-dot-inconvenience]

The Breakfast Club Headcanons (Jandrew if you squint)

✰ Most of Bender’s clothes don’t fit him properly. Either a bit too small or a bit too large. His parents don’t care enough to buy him new clothes so he just gets hand me downs (or he swipes clothes from a store). His favorite piece of clothing is a band t-shirt he stole from Spencers

✰ Brian RARELY gets mad (aside from the time he snapped at Claire), but if he was to get mad at anyone it would be his mom for being overbearing about his studying

✰ Allison has a bunch of animal skulls and bones in her room, no one knows if they’re real or fake and honestly they’re too afraid to ask

✰ Claire has a pink Cadillac and is usually the designated driver, Allison has a car too but it was passed down from her dad and is on its last limb

✰ Andy gets constant migraines and gets REALLY tired from over exertion but still managed to get eight hours. When he sleeps he sleeps like a rock

✰ John hates showing a lot of skin, he’s covered in scars and bruises and doesn’t want people to notice and ask questions or pity him. He hardly ever takes off his gloves unless its to shower

✰ Allison will pray on people’s downfall for the pettiest shit. Ex: someone takes her seat in class and she’s already plotting in her head

✰ Allison has stolen at least ONE thing from each Breakfast Club member they have yet to find

✰ John and Claire are easily the laziest out of the five, just for different reasons

✰ (semi canon?) Andy can be so protective to the point where he does too much. Ex: someone calls Allison a weirdo and he’s already ordered three airstrikes and is jumping that person in the parking lot

✰ Brian’s favorite subject is world history (just like me fr)

✰ John and Allison have a sibling like relationship

✰ John will stall as much as he can after school to avoid going home, no matter what it is

✰ John will sometimes show up at Brian or Andy’s house randomly in the night, he says its a “surprise visit” when in reality he got kicked out for the night and needs a place to crash (he usually goes to Andy’s and Andy lets him stay in his bed every-time)

✰ Their usual hangout spots are diners late at night

✰ They confide in each other but they vent to Brian the most

✰ They have sleepovers whenever Andy’s parents are out of town. John sleeps with Andy in his room while the others sleep in the living room

[minimickzy]

Practice || Van Palmer Part 1

Guys went a little crazy and I think this will be well over 3k words so I'm gonna split it in two parts- also I swear I don't hate Jackie- she's just such an easy villain.

dialog prompts:

"Hold my hand" "Absolutely not" "We should kiss, for like practice" "I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade." "fuck you"

Characters: Van x Reader, the whole team

Word count: 1568

You had known Van since kindgerraden. You two had been table mates and caused the teacher so many headaches that she moved you to opposite sides of the classroom, which of course only made you two more disruptive. By some miracle, or curse depending on who you asked, The two of you had been in all the same classes leading up to high school, where you still ended up having a good amount together.

She had wanted to be a goalie in soccer so you had to join too, obviously. JV freshman year introduced you to the rest of your high school friend group. Everyone got along as well as you could expect for a small-town soccer team. Although there was definitely still the fair share of petty arguments and drama. 

“Come on guys, focus!” Jackie yelled in her normal peppy voice across the field. You grumbled, doing your best not to glare at her. 

This practice had fallen apart almost as soon as it started. Jackie and Tai had gotten into yet another screaming match in the locker room, splitting the team up and leaving tension hanging over all of you. 

You tried another play, which ended in Natalie completely knocking down Shanua- starting another yelling match. 

You stood with a hand on your hip. Waiting for Coach Ben to call it for the day. 

“Nice Ass lady” Van whispered as she approached you from behind before breaking into a chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You smirked over your shoulder and winked at her, causing her to fan herself with her hand. “How long do you think before practice is called?” 

The redhead tapped her chin pretending to think, “I’ll give it two more minutes- either Coach calls it or Tai decks Jackie out cold.” 

You let out a snort, “If Tai takes Jackie- Shauna will be on her before she had the chance to run.” 

“I’d pay to see that.” 

“I’m sure you would.” 

She gave you a cheeky grin. 

Sure enough within 2 minutes Coach called it, telling everyone to take the rest of the day and the weekend to cool off. 

~ 

“So… Natalie, did you mean to knock down Shauna or was it just a stellar accident?” Van asked Natalie before taking a drag of the joint between her fingers.   

This was a semi-normal occurrence. Nat, Van, Lottie and you hitting a joint behind the school before leaving practice. 

“Can I plead the fifth?” You laughed as Van passed you the joint. “Besides- I barely tapped her.” 

You let out a puff of smoke before speaking up again, “Well if we’re still going to that party tonight you better watch out for Jackie's wrath.” 

Lottie giggled, “I don't think she even knows how to throw a punch.” 

Natalie finished off the joint before flicking it to the ground and stomping it into the ground with her boot. “Guess we’ll have to find out” She gave her most daring grin.

~

You went home to change and get ready, opting to waste most of your time laying on your bed zoning out to the radio. At 9:30 you went outside to wait for Kevyn to pull up. The major perk of whatever the fuck he had going with Natalie meant you all had a ride to every party. 

Sure enough, he pulled up in his semi-shitty car (not that you were one to judge) with Natalie, Van, and Lottie already loaded in. You smooshed into the back seat next to Van who like usual wore an oversized T-Shirt under her jean jacket and tan pants. 

As small town trashy as it was, most parties were either held at a few designated houses or, more often, in the woods about two miles from the school. Kevyn pulled up and parked with all the other cars, letting all of you get out. “If you want rides back I’ll only ask you once before I leave.” Kevyn locked his car before wrapping an arm around Natalie's shoulders and heading towards the bonfire. 

Lottie made a gagging sound next to you, “I just don’t get what she sees in him.” 

“I hear ya Lot. But to be fair I feel that about all her boy toys.” Van added.

You shrugged, noncommittally and started towards a keg, “I don’t know about you guys but I need a drink.” 

Lottie spotted some people from her classes and left to catch up with them, leaving you and Van alone. 

It’s not that parties weren't for you per se, but Van didn’t much care for them. She’d rather be at your place getting high and watching old VHSs than be surrounded by fellow students after what was already required for school. 

You two tended to stay off to the side, making fun of the drunk kids and freshmen who really weren’t ready to be here yet. 

You were sitting on one of the log benches, resting your head on Van’s shoulder, laughing at the stupid commentary she was providing before you heard Jackies yell ring out over the noise, “What’d you say Bitch?” You stood up from your spot, rushing towards the scene, Van hot on your heels. Jackie was pushing Natalie away from her, Kevyn trying (not well) to hold Natalie back. 

“I said, you’re a stuck-up cunt.” Natalie spat at her. 

You smacked your forehead as Van grumbled next to you, “Seriously Nat? Not helpful.” 

The two of you weren’t the only partygoers who had come to see the commotion. A circle had formed around the two. “You need to watch yourself, so you don’t end up like your trailer trash parents.” 

You could feel Van tense next to you before she jumped between them, “Okay- That’s enough, yellowjackets meeting. Right now.” 

Natalie had a fire in her eyes, Jackie's cruelty, and Van's one of disappointment. Natalie huffed but followed Van, prompting you, Lottie, Shauna, and Jackie to follow. You hadn’t seen Tai all night and assumed she probably didn’t show up to avoid being around Jackie and Shauna. 

Once you were all a small distance away from the rest of the party Van stopped and clapped her hands together, “alright- let’s talk this shit out before the ally incident from last season repeats itself.” 

“There’s really nothing to say other than the apology Natalie owes me.” Jackie started, earning the start of more yelling. 

“Hey!” Van yells over the others, “Jackie- you and Tai agreed to move on so now do it.” She rubs down her face with your head, obviously tired of this shit. “Why don’t we do what we did last year before nationals? Do the camp thing where we all have to say something nice about each other.” 

As the others protested you moved forward in front of Jackie, “Come on guys- it helped us last time! Let’s try it.” You gave Van a look, trying to show her you were doing your best. 

Nat rolled her eyes but nevertheless turned to Shauna and plastered on a smile. 

You looked back to Jackie, she seemed apprehensive. You two weren’t really close, but you were civil and had nothing personally against her. She was just very sheltered compared to Van, Nat, Lottie, and you. And you assumed Shauna but you weren’t really sure. 

“Jackie…. I think you’re a great leader.” Okay, you had to be better than that, “The way you can rally the team is impressive…. And I really love your style.”

Better right?

Sure enough, she smiled and thanked you before returning the favor.  

You and Van had each other last, which was definitely for the best because you were crossed enough that there was no way you could stay serious with her. 

She stepped in front of you and smirked, “(y/n), I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade." 

"fuck you"

She barked out a laugh and lightly hit your arm, “What? It’s true!” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, “ First of all it was an accident, Secondly I barely hit you, you were just dramatic.” 

“Mmmm, that's what you wanted Mrs. Todd to think.” 

You shook your head but couldn't help from joining in her laughter. Her laughter was contagious you swear to god. 

“Okay okay, my turn. Tell me how great I am.” 

You tapped your chin, pretending to think, “I don’t know? Maybe your rugged good looks? Your amazing sense of humor? Your seemingly unlimited supply of weed? There’s just so much to pick from. Wait I know, I love that you’re the most fucking outstanding, compassionate, beautiful person I’ve ever met.” 

It had been meant to be light-hearted, and it was. But now that the words were hanging in the air they felt a lot heavier, like more of the truth than you had intended had sneaked in. 

Both of you had fallen into a delicate silence, the rest of the team and party fading into the background. She was still smiling, more earnestly than you had seen in a long time. “Thank you.”

You give her a half smile, “It’s just the truth.” 

Natalie wrapped her arms around both of you, missing the fact that she was interrupting a private moment, “Palmer, you never cease to amaze me. Jackie actually apologized.” 

Van smiled, “that’s great.” It came out strained and you tried not to cringe.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #18

Prompt #18: Dance

Emmet has a tendency to lose himself in his work. Especially if that work involves not having to talk in the slightest. And it just so happens that it's maintenance day for a beaten-up train cab.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Emmet wiped the sweat from his brow, slowly ensuring that the last bolt was firmly in its position before scooting back to admire his handiwork. The entire day had been spent meticulously pouring over a train cab that had been needing service for some time after suffering an onslaught of ice. And by using his work time to fix the cab, Emmet himself felt well-maintained and ship-shape as though having come fresh off the assembly line himself.

Emmet carefully took a step away from the unfinished cab, laying his tools on the detached cloth seat he’d been sitting on as he carefully stepped through the gutted cab and onto the rocky railyard where the sound of gravel and ballast shifting underfoot quickly lifted his mood. 

Steam and smoke rose in lazy circles from the Anville Railyard. Other locomotive engineers moved back-and-forth across the semi-noisy yard, hearty conversations filtering through the air as they each lugged their toolbags after them. Each worker would stop and raise a welcoming hand to Emmet as he passed them, tipping their hats but without words. After all, Emmet wasn’t a man for words or small talk; he just needed a break before he got back to work.

In the shade of the engine house, Emmet peeled off his backup cap, leaned against the tin wall, and took a deep drink of water, wiping the excess away with an oil-stained sleeve. Today has been a great day. I have been here for hours maintaining the same car. I am making progress! Emmet moved further back into the recess of the engine house, finding a spare chair to sit in as he took off his stained gloves and checked his Xtransceiver, crossing one leg over another.

A message or two from the group chat he shared with Elesa and Skyla. A note from Ingo about his brother potentially departing from his battling line early to buy some sandwiches from a popular deli spot not too far from Nimbasa City. Emails from his subordinates about new paperwork sent in from the mayor of Nimbasa City. Emmet only rolled his eyes and turned off his Xtransceiver, allowing his gaze to rest on the many disconnected freight cars that littered the rail yard.

Things are finally back in order. And. I am not so stressed anymore. Emmet smiled a bit wider when a familiar pokémon lumbered into the engine house, the amber gems studded along its body glowing as the rock-type pokémon clattered over to Emmet and easily lifted him onto its back.

“Boldore. You are not a chair!” Emmet scolded playfully.

Emmet’s Boldore often remained at the railyard and much like its trainer, would spend almost the entire day staring at the trains and studying them when idle. And Boldore, sensing that its trainer had been taking too long of a break, began stumbling out of the engine house with Emmet atop its back. Emmet only rolled his eyes and leaned back, allowing himself to be carried back to the cab he’d been working on without so much as a fuss.

Working with engines and cabs was mindless. Fun, even. Emmet saw the work not like he saw battling. Battling came down to strategy, luck, and power. But assembly and engineering? Those were based on skill. Intellect. Patterns. Emmet knew every tool that could be used to both deconstruct and reassemble the axle and undercarriage of a Knickerbocker. He knew the blueprints of the wirings of a Juniata like he knew the back of his hands. Emmet had memorized the unique coupling mechanisms of the Saluki and he knew exactly what kind of oil worked best for engines like the Shavano and the Steel King.

Emmet usually performed best without talking. And on his days spent at the railyard, he let his hands do all the talking, the way he could seamlessly work and twist and reach, performing intricate but mindless dances with his hands and fingers as Emmet never faltered or forgot the smallest of screws. Each silencing of a creaky joint through the application of oil was like music to his ears. He counted faraway train whistles and nearly skipped when he heard them, listening idly when new beaten up cabs were dragged in and the pistons of the dragging train surged against the metal of the train tracks, audible for miles around.

Metal clacked. Rocks shifted. Emmet turned, his smile widening as he sighted a familiar Klinklang float over to the door of the cab he was situated in. And then came a familiar man.

“Boss Emmet! It’s time to start wrapping things up!” Emmet paused as a familiar face pokéd into the cab he was working in, the depot agent tipping his oil-stained hat to Emmet as the man took a careful step inside. The man then whistled. “Nice job, boss! At this rate, you’ll have this old cab up and running by next week!”

“Thank you verrry much, Josh!” Emmet grunted as he got to his feet, grimacing upon hearing something in his back give. “...Not a word.”

Depot Agent Josh laughed heartily at the notion, reaching down to grab Emmet by the backstrap of his suspenders. “Not to worry. Your secret’s safe with me, bossman. But really. We should get going.” Josh gestured at a clipboard he’d been carrying under his arm, tapping one chewed-up pen at the clipped paper. “It’s almost midday and we’re supposed to be on the car back to Central Unova no later than noon.”

Emmet nodded, setting one hand delicately upon his Klingklang’s sturdy frame. His pokémon shuddered and whirled, giving a hearty clack before retreating back to its pokéball. “I guess. It is time to report back to Gear Station.”

“Good. Nice to know you’re on board for once. Almost thought you had left already,” Josh commented, patting the excess dust from his stained uniform. “Kept calling and calling for you- no response.”

Emmet paused, cocking his head. “Really? I did not hear you.”

“I know.” Josh shrugged. “You tend to get lost in your work whenever you’re here, boss. It’s like you’re completely deaf to the world whenever you’re working with the cars.” Josh then nudged Emmet with his elbow, grinning mischievously. “I sometimes think you’d rather be here with the broken cars than back at the station.”

“That is… not true.” Emmet crossed his arms and turned up his nose, his eyes crinkling when he noticed Josh struggling to keep pace with him. “I simply enjoy the break.”

“Right, right. Says the man that hums and whistles when he’s elbow-deep in months-old oil.”

[laksasnkowxndokewe46545434]

MICHEAL AFTON HEADCANON(teen)

he loves rock and pop music when he was younger and his room is so messy and his walls are COVERED in posters of his favourite band

he was born and raised in england till he was at the age of 12 then his parents moved to south Carolina and enrolled him in a highschool 4 blocks away but some how he is always late

coffee in his hand before going for a lesson he hates

he isn't your typical sterotype badboy he just has really bad anger issues

freckles . LOTS OF EM

His hair feels like kitten fur, soft

mullet daddy 100%

he had his fair share of smoking weed with his friends,but he once got so high he stood on someones car and started twerking like a male stripper (the driver gave him $50 for the show)

i def see william asking michael to draw posters for his restruant and michael turning him down to spite him

Micheal has a second name which is "anthony"

micheal is scared of his mother but loves her deeply

kisses his homies goodnight after hanging out with them

he doesn't drink water that much so he has really chapped lips

crusty fucker

he loves his foxy plush its sitting on the top of his clothing drawer

micheal is touch starved (fight me in court)

hates that he looks like his father

wants to get a tattoo of a semi colon with a butterfly

IN A RELATIONSHIP

He adores you

he loves your laugh and will do anything to hear it

he loves showing you off to people like his friends

"oh by the way did i tell you that y/n did.."

he is so inlove with you pookie !!

when he had a crush on you he was SOO DELUSIONAL

"DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT? Y/N LOOKED AT ME"

he loves it when you guys are alone together so that he can just up your face and look into your eyes

he is a thigh man he loves your thighs whether its big or small best believe that his hands will be squishing them

he is so head over heels for you incase i didnt make it clear

he buys you everything you lay your eyes on he just loves spoiling his pretty girl

he likes it when you pout he find it cute

and might i add he find it funny as hell when you look up at him because of how short you are

he is 6'4 can you blame him? his father loved giving is genes to micheal

he would love taking you out

your parents love him too!! they think he is a sweetheart

very protective.

he likes holding your bag for you

"oh pass me that luv i'll carry it for you" "mike i can do it myself" you protested "nah i dont want to see my pretty princess do all the work" he teased you while slipping the bag strap from your shoulder and heaving it onto his back just love him or i'll have him >:(

[rfsak2]

Spitfire, Pt. 7

This chapter was difficult to write, but I already have parts of the next chapter written so I’m excited. I’m also planning to post a little sneak peak of the next chapter. 

Drop me a line and like if you’re interested!

Spitfire, Pt. 7

Everyone always thought Daryl was the rough one. DarylxOC

Warnings: violence, emotions, injuries, smut under the cut, lots of bad language words, Negan

Part 6

“What do you think, Mitz?”

“Nothin’ good.” She held her rifle scope up to her eye and sighed. “Gotta be 300-plus.”

Rick nodded. “At least.”

She examined the east-bound exit of the quarry through her scope. “That isn’t gonna last much longer.” She passed over the scope to Rick, who in turn passed it to Daryl. 

Glenn sighed, squatting next to her. “I found the plans in the office. It’s a limestone quarry.”

“Limestone?”

“So it’s washin’ away more n’more with every storm.” Daryl passed the scope back to Mitzi.

“Jesus Christ.” Mitzi glanced up at Daryl. “Y’think we can get closer? Just to check.”

Daryl nodded. “If we’re quiet.” 

They walked through the woods bordering the quarry and worked quietly, slowly through the maze of cars left by quarry workers before the Turn.

Mitzi walked around the improvised semi-truck barricade. Daryl stepped up onto the cab to look through the window. “No keys.”

Mitzi picked something up from a tire and jingled it in his direction. “They’re here.” She set them back down. “Musta done this early on.”

Rick squatted to look under the truck. “Yeah. I don’t think it was the quarry workers either. They would’ve chosen a more stable area.”

A walker slipped around the side of one of the rigs and Daryl stuck his knife in its temple.

She stood on the edge of the bluff and looked down at the barricade in the bottom of the quarry. She squatted, holding her scope up. “The barricade down there is more stable, looks like. We’ll have to get closer to check. But I can see a couple sizable gaps. I’ll bet it’s leaking walkers like a mother fucker.”

Rick nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “So walkers are slipping out at that exit and the other exit is going to slip off the rapidly eroding cliff face.” He wiped his hand over his face and hissed when he accidentally tugged at one of his Steri-strips.

Mitzi chuckled. “You good, boss?”

“I forgot I had them.”

She stood and backed up from the edge. “Don’t know how. You’re more bandage than face right now.”

Glenn snickered. “What’s worse is that he was a doctor. Not exactly a prize fighter.” 

“That’s true.” Daryl bit his lip. “Ain’t no reason to be that beat up.”

“Don’t do that…” Rick frowned. “He was a big guy.”

“Ooh…” Mitzi wiggled her fingers. “A big doctor.”

Daryl shrugged. “He was big but he was soft. Coulda taken him.”

Glenn nodded. “Oh, easily.”

“Wouldn’t even take me that long.” Mitzi grinned. 

“Screw all three of y’all.” Rick pointed at the quarry and scoffed. “Why don’t you figure this shit out instead of takin’ the piss outta me?”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted. “Glenn, can you pass me those plans?”

Glenn spread the rolled stack of papers out on the ground and put a rock in the corners to secure them. Mitzi pulled out a folded up map of the area and spread it out above, securing it the same way.

“So this exit,” Glenn pointed out east then back at the map. “This exit goes east on Redding to Alexandria. This south exit would be safer. We wouldn't have to redirect them. Just march ‘em down Marshall Road.”

“Until we start rilin’ them up.” Daryl squatted next to her. “Then they just start pushin’ against the trucks, push ‘em outta the way.”

Rick nodded. “We want a trickle, not a flood.”

Mitzi examined the bottom exit through her scope and sighed. “I doubt there's a way to move those trucks quietly.”

Glenn nodded. “How do we redirect them safely, though? Keep them from marching right down to Alexandria?”

Rick frowned. “Do you think that we can just lead them?”

“Lead them how?” Glenn glanced up at Rick.

“With sound, maybe?”

Mitzi shook her head. “I was hoping for that but honestly, there’s too many of them and the sound wouldn’t be concentrated enough.”

Daryl nodded. “We wouldn’t be able t’just set speakers up n’run. We’d have to stay ahead of them and still risk the ones in the back gettin’ distracted and wanderin’ off.”

“Let’s just do that then?” Glenn pointed at the map. “Let’s just get people to lead them. Drive a car ahead of them.”

Mitzi shook her head. “It’s the same problem though. The one’s in the back will wander off.”

Rick nodded. “We can keep ‘em in line using sound. Any of them start wandering, we fire a shot or two, pull ‘em back.”

Daryl squinted at the map. “I can use the bike, it’s louder.”

Rick started nodding even as she was getting ready to protest. “That’s a good-”

“No, it isn’t.” Mitzi stared at Rick as if he had two heads. “If somethin’ happens, there’s nothin’ to protect you, baby. At least with a car, we can close the doors if somethin’ happens and we get surrounded.”

“Can’t surround me if they can’t catch me.” Daryl looked offended at the very suggestion. 

“Oh, so we just plan for the scenario we want now? No contingency-”

“This is something y’all can discuss at home, not here with over 300 of your nearest and deadest.” Glenn whisper-shouted. “Focus, please.”

Mitzi frowned. “Don’t know when you got so fuckin’ bossy, little brother.”

“Mildred Elizabeth.” 

“Fuckin’ fine.” She huffed and Daryl reached over to squeeze her shoulder. 

“It’ll be alright, Spitfire.”

“Y’better fuckin’ hope so. I won’t forgive you if you die. Dickhead.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

**

“Now what I’m proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain.” Rick paused. “That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn’t about if it gives, it’s when. It’s gonna happen. That’s why we have t’do it soon.”

One of the Alexandrians shifted nervously. “Isn’t that why we have walls? Can’t we just wait it out?”

“A herd like that will flatten those walls.” Mitzi spoke up, sitting in the windowsill by Daryl. “Walkers don’t feel pain. They will just push up against the walls until their combined weight pushes the wall over. Regardless, we will need to be out there redirectin’ them with sound. It’s best t’do as far out as we can so they don’t get anywhere near us.”

Carol nodded, still play-acting, eyes big and vulnerable. “This is- I don’t even have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn’t sound like there’s any other way.”

Carter frowned. “Maybe there is. I mean couldn’t we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg.” He cast an anxious look around. “Construction crew, we can try to make it safe.”

“There are no strong spots.” Mitzi sucked on her tongue. “The exits were not strategically placed to begin with. The limestone was bound to wash away at some point and that point is now. One of those rigs is maybe half a foot from going over. Buildin’ it up might make it stable for a bit but it’s bound to fail at some point.”

“But if it buys us more time?”

“More time to do what? Sit around with our thumbs up our asses, hopin’ and prayin’ that the truck is still up and there aren’t 300 rottin’, walkin’ corpses headin’ our way?” Mitzi chuckled. “This world is not a wait n’see kinda world anymore. It’s move n’decide. We can’t leave this to be future-us’ problem.”

Rick nodded. “Even if it worked, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more everyday. Building up the exits won’t change that.”

“Make it worse in the long run.”

“We’re gonna do what Rick and Mitzi say.” Everyone turned to where Deanna was looking out the window. “The plan they’ve laid out.”

Rick nodded. “I told you all, we’re gonna have Daryl leading them away.”

Sasha nodded and caught her eye, then nodded at Daryl. “Me too. I’ll take a car ride next to him. Can’t just be him. I’ll keep ‘em coming, Daryl keeps ‘em from getting sloppy.”

Mitzi smiled at Sasha. “Thanks, Sash.”

Abraham nodded in front of her. “I’ll go with her. That’s a long way to white-knuckle it solo.”

“We’ll have two teams. One on each side of the forest, helping to manage this thing. We’re gonna find a way to get Mitzi up above the treeline, so she can catch any walkers that get too far outta line. She’ll also man the radio keeping everyone on the same page.”

Tobin nodded. “There’s an old 50-foot bucket truck we can use. I think it’s still at the construction site.”

Carter frowned. “Why does she get to be up there?’

Mitzi snorted. “Get? Ima ‘bouta be 50 feet in the air in a bucket. One that likely makes a shit-ton of noise on the way up and down. You’re welcome to it if y’got the stones.”

Carter clenched his jaw and dismissed her with a flippant hand gesture.

Daryl sucked on his tongue loudly. “She’s made killshots at 3400 yards. Y’ever do that?” Carter colored and Daryl made a face, one hand landing on her thigh. “There y’go.”

“Daryl’s right.” Rick shot them a look. “Mitzi is a sniper. She’s the only one I’d trust to not accidentally hit one of us by accident.”

She grinned at Daryl and mouthed, ‘down boy.’ He rolled his eyes and squeezed her thigh.

“We’re gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer and Holly. So they’re out.” He paused. “So who’s in?”

They were a handful of hesitant affirmative replies, Michonne, Glenn, even Gabriel attempted to volunteer only to be shot down by Rick.

“No. Who else? We need more.”

“There’s gotta be another play.” Carter stuttered out. “We can’t just control that many.”

Rick sighed. “I said it before, walkers herd up. They’ll follow a path if something’s drawing them. That’s how we can get ‘em all at once.”

“So what? We’re just supposed to take your word for it? We’re all supposed to just fall in line behind you after-”

There was a lengthy pause and Rick stepped forward. “After what?”

Carter swallowed. “After you wave a gun around, screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you-”

Deanna whirled around. “Enough!”

**

“Mitzi! What’s happening?”

“Dunno.” She turned and looked and set her rifle on the railing of the bucket. Looking through her scope, she lifted the radio and cussed vilely. “Alexandria’s under attack.”

“By who?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m in a bucket 50 feet off the ground, two miles away.” She looked over the railing at the ground. “And I can’t get down.” 

“Why? Are ya pinned down?” Daryl sounded anxious.

“I’m not exactly pinned down but if I start the lift, there’s a good chance it draws anyone undead in my immediate vicinity. It’s a loud sumabitch. Fuckin’ goddamn it! We shoulda built a blind instead.”

“It’s okay.” Rick’s voice soothed over the radio. “You were right that it probably wasn’t going to be tall enough. You do what you can.”

“Like fuckin’ watch? ‘Cause that’s all I can do right now.”

“You are Captain Mildred E. Dixon.” Abraham’s voice crackled over the radio. “You can do a damn sight more up there than most people can do on their own two feet. Light ‘em up!”

“I agree.” Rick sounded more amused than he had a right to. “Assist how you can and get down when you can.”

She breathed deep. “Right. Guess I’m breaking that record after all.”

“I can turn around? If ya need help down.”

She smiled despite herself. “Nah, I’m good, baby. Y'all come back and get me when you’re done.”

“Y’sure?”

“Daryl, stay focused.”

“I’m fine, D. Promise. Upside, nothin’ can get me up here.” She chuckled. “Y’all just don’t forget me. We didn’t have time to set a car out here for me. If things get dicier, I’m hoofin’ it back”

“I don’t like this, Spitfire.”

“It’ll be okay. Love ya.” 

“You too. Stay safe, baby.”

She adjusted in the bin, putting her back against one side of the bucket and leveling her rifle with the other. “I’m gonna go quiet for a bit, y’all. Don’t be surprised if ya don’t hear from me.”

She set the radio down and braced her rifle against her shoulder. She looked through her scope and focused on the main gate. It was open which meant that she had more of a line of sight than she had honestly been expecting. 

She breathed deep, aimed at the forehead of someone she did not know. She paused, seeing the W carved there and cursed. She grabbed her radio.

“It’s those assholes with the W’s!” She threw the walkie back down, ignoring the responses.

She breathed deep, focusing on the W. She fired. The man crumbled to the pavement. 

She breathed out and ejected the shell, slid the bolt home. 

Breathe in.

A walker this time. 

Breathe out.

Fire.

Bolt.

She continued in that pattern for longer than she could keep track of. Someone turned, she saw the W. 

Breathe in. 

Aim. 

Breathe out. 

Fire.

Bolt.

**

She saw a fuel tanker come barrelling down the road and cursed. Her body felt heavy and hot but she dragged her rifle back up and aimed at the driver’s side of the windshield. 

She sighed and reached for her radio.

“Hey, baby.” She chuckled as Daryl slammed on the brakes.

“Spitfire?”

“Can ya get me down?” She looked down at the area around the truck. “I keep easin’ down, but every time I run it for longer than five minutes my friends come back. Ain’t gonna lie, feel a bit like a rockstar up here. I got groupies for days.”

“How many groupies do you have?” Abraham drawled.

“‘Bout twenty-thirty?”

“Not much of a fan club.” 

“Fuck you, Abraham Ford.” She chuckled. “They wander off and then come back, sometimes with more. It’s hard to track.”

“A’ight.” Through her scope she saw Daryl toss the radio over to Sasha and throw the truck in reverse. “Start the lift again. We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

“Will do.” She breathed deep and reached for the control panel. Hoisting herself up, she started up the back-up power and started the lift. She counted the walkers as they meandered over to the truck. “Heads up, my fan club is in session and currently numbers around twenty-five-ish.”

Sasha’s voice came over the radio next, the tanker turning down the gravel road Mitzi was suspended over.. “You been up there this whole time?”

She laughed, her voice hoarse. “Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ. Mitz, you shoulda tried to get down earlier.”

“Have been tryin’.” She paused, briefly nauseous, her head spinning. “That’s the other thing, though. I managed to ration my water ‘til ‘bout four-five hours ago but I’m fuckin’ starvin’, still probably dehydrated, and I’m pretty sure I have sun poisoning or whatever. Wasn’t too keen on gettin’ down when I hadn’t quite figured out how I was gonna get home.”

“How about the truck you’re in?” Daryl suggested. “What kinda shape is it in?”

“I’ve been drainin’ the battery for sure, so that’s a problem, but not the only problem. The walkers crowd on all sides so I can’t clear it fast enough to jump down and get in the truck. Not as sluggish as I feel.”

There was some rustling over the radio and Sasha came back on the radio. “What about Rick?”

“Oh, that plan got fucked to hell. He, somehow, I dunno, was walking ahead of a couple hundred walkers. I imagine he had a similar kinda day to me. He’s checked in with me since getting home, but they’re pinned down. Can’t get out to come get me.” She waved weakly at them when they stepped out of their truck. “Hey, guys.”

They held the walkers at bay as she lowered the bucket down all the way. When it was flush to the truck, Daryl helped her climb out, steadying her as her knees wobbled under her.

He clenched his jaw and handed her down to Abraham as Sasha kept their way back to the truck clear.

Settled, rather tightly between Sasha and Daryl, Mitzi leaned over and jacked up the AC, accepting the bottle of water Abraham passed her.

“You have the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” Sasha pressed gently at Mitzi’s forehead. “You’re definitely dehydrated. I think I have an old candy bar or something.” She rifled through her pack, passing her an old snickers bar. “You’re gonna freckle like a bitch.”

Mitzi chuckled, her voice still raspy despite the water she had drank. She leaned heavily on Daryl, who was struggling to split his attention between driving and tsking at her as he anxiously assessed her condition, and opened her snickers.

Abraham, hilariously shoved up against the passenger window, hummed. “Why didn’t you shoot your way out?”

Mitzi reached down and opened her pack, tossing him three empty magazines. “We’re lucky the soldier in me thought to grab those. I was only bringing my rifle to line the bucket up correctly with the parade route. Wasn’t expecting to stay up there.”

Abraham glanced back at her. “You used all of these on the pricks that attacked home?”

She shook her head. “There weren’t quite that many of them. I took down maybe ten?” She shrugged. “I used the rest to take down the walkers that followed Rick home. They gotta be stacked ten deep around the walls by now.”

Daryl huffed. “Fuck.”

“Yep.” She looked over at Abraham. “Where the fuck did you find dress blues that fit your brick shit house ass? And why are you wearing them?”

**

“I want to be in here with him.”

Daryl started shaking his head before Denise could speak. “Spitfire, you need to lay down. There’s not another bed in here.”

Mitzi frowned. “Don’t wanna lay down. I’ll sit down, but I wanna be in here with Carl.”

Denise nodded. “I have an armchair that should be low enough to keep fluids flowing.” She glanced at Daryl. “Will that be okay?”

Daryl sighed. “Will it work just as good as if she was lying down?”

“Laying down would be better, for sure,” She paused and glanced down at Mitzi, a little pointed. “But I’d rather have her sitting and resting than having to force her to stay in bed.”

Mitzi looked up at Daryl. 

Daryl nodded. “A’ight. Where’s the chair?”

He brought the chair in and set his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her down. “You ain’t gonna leave this chair, Mitz, y’hear?” 

“I won’t, promise.” 

He pressed a kiss to her head, trying to avoid her sunburns. “Rosita’s gonna stitch me up, I’ll be back.” “Okay, baby.” She turned to watch him leave, chuckling when she realized he had set the chair at an angle that he could watch her as Rosita worked on him. Catching his eyes, she smiled and felt her body melt into the chair.

Denise buzzed around her, bringing over a broom turned into a makeshift IV pole and an IV bag of saline. Wrapping a tourniquet around her bicep, Denise started to palpitate at Mitzi’s elbow. 

She tsked, tapping at a vein. 

Mitzi looked down at her. “What?”

“I don’t know if it’s the dehydration or the tattoos, probably both, but your veins are impossible.” She released the tourniquet and moved to tie it around Mitzi’s wrist. She tapped at the prominent vein at the back of Mitzi’s hand and nodded, rubbing an alcohol wipe over the area quickly. “Quick pinch.”

Mitzi didn’t react, eyes on Carl. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Denise smiled and hooked up the IV. “I think so. His vital signs are more stable.”

Mitzi breathed deep and smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

Denise nodded. “Let’s look at your face.”

A few minutes later, creams applied and stitches tied, Daryl came and sat on the floor next to her. “He’ll be alright.”

She nodded and scratched over his scalp with her free hand.

Daryl looked back at her. “He’s tough.”

She smiled. “He is. Just like his daddy.”

Rick breathed heavily, looking up at them for the first time. “I think he’s tough like his auntie. You taught him most everything he knows on that front.” He smiled, exhausted and drawn. 

“I did, didn’t I?” She chuckled before shrugging. “I mean… I taught him a lot but not nearly everything.”

“You did.” He sighed. “Thanks for that, by the way. For treating him like your own blood. Helping me help him make it. Giving him a chance to grow up.”

She waved him off. “We ain’t gonna talk like that today, Richard. Carl is gonna live and keep growing up. No more morose shit.”

He smiled and nodded. “Sorry for leavin’ ya up there, Mitz.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, better than the alternative.”

Leaning over, she reached for Carl’s hand and squeezed it gently. 

**

“Mitz!”

“In here, babe.”

Daryl leaned against the doorsill. “Almost done?”

Mitzi smiled and batted her eyes at him. “Why? You walkin’ me home, stud?”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. Gonna walk y’somewhere else.”

She arched an eyebrow and looked down at the pistol she was reassembling. “Ooh… color me intrigued. Where are we going?”

He shrugged. “Guess you’ll hafta finish up to find out.”

She shot him a comically suspicious look and set to cleaning up her work space, putting tools, solvents and now-clean rifles and pistols away. Wiping her hands on a clean rag, she moved to lean up against him and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“That all y’got?”

She smiled. “Olivia’s somewhere ‘round here. I already make her anxious, don’t need to add to it.”

“She likes ya better than ya think.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Two of ya are just different. I don’t think she knows what t’say to ya.”

She shrugged. “Regardless, I don’t try to stress her out. Let her have her peace. She’s a nice woman.” She motioned to the door and turned to lock the armory behind her. “Lead on, Dixon.”

“A’ight.” He held the door for her and smiled softly down at her. “Missus.”

She smiled up at him and nodded at Jeannie, an Alexandrian she had recently been training on the rifle.

The woman smiled brightly at Mitzi and nodded back. “Hot date?”

Mitzi chuckled and looked up at Daryl. “Always.”

Daryl grumbled under his breath and made for the main gate. “C’mon.”

She chuckled and lengthened her stride to make up the distance between them. She hooked her hand in his elbow and stretched up to land a kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

He hummed and smirked when, affronted, she pinched his side. He let them out of the main gate and into the forest. They walked in relative silence for ten minutes, Daryl picking his way through the tangled underbrush as Mitzi followed behind. 

He slowed their pace as they entered a small clearing, full of wildflowers. She smiled and looked up at him. “This really is a hot date, huh?” 

Daryl blushed and grabbed her hand, leading her further into the clearing. After making sure the area was clear, Daryl spread out a blanket he had stashed out here and they settled back against a fallen log.

She leaned against his shoulder and soaked up the peace and quiet.

After a while, Daryl dug something out of his pocket and passed it to her. She straightened and smiled. Pinched between his fingers was a wedding band set, a silver ring with a diamond and a matching silver band.

Taking it from him, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Daryl, we been married.”

He nodded. “Know that.” He shrugged and held up his left hand. On his fourth finger, sat a silver band. “I’ve been lookin’ ever since the prison, but most of the jewelry shops down in Georgia had been looted. Found one with Rick when we were out yesterday.”

She smiled and slipped the ring on her left ring finger. “There.”

“Looks good on ya.”

She leaned up and caught his mouth in a kiss, fisting her hand in his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

Pulling away, she smiled. “Should take this home, yeah?”

They made it home in record time, what had been a fifteen-minute journey, ending in their bedoom barely eight minutes later.

She pulled her shirt off over her head and framed Daryl’s face in her hands, drawing him down into a kiss. He slid his vest off, throwing it over a nearby chair and reaching back to pull his button up over his head without unbuttoning it.

Attaching her lips to his clavicle, she moaned, stepping in to press as close to him as possible. She moved to mouth at his jaw. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

He caught her lips and backed her toward the bed, tongue slipping into her mouth. Opening her jeans, he slid his hands down the back of her pants, palming her ass. “I love you, too, Mitzi Dixon.” He hummed and kissed her again, biting gently at her lips. He pulled away, wrapping his arm around her waist as she stepped free of her jeans. 

She pushed at his waistband fruitlessly and huffed when he wouldn’t let her push back far enough to get his pants undone. 

She looked up, prepared to fuss at him and tilted her head at his expression, soft and vulnerable. “What?”

He shrugged. “Never liked my last name until you started wearing it.”

She smiled brilliantly, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “Never liked my last name until I started wearing yours.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. He kissed her again, deeper, more intimate, swallowing her groans and holding her to him. She sighed as he moved them closer to the bed, her knees bending instinctually when they hit the bed. 

He urged her toward the head of the bed, moving to follow her down when her head hit the pillow. 

She stopped him. “Jeans, Dixon.”

He grinned and undid his belt, maintaining eye contact as he pushed his pants down and stepped free of them. 

She sat up on her knees and pulled him into a kiss, hand drifting down to ghost over the head of his penis.

He moaned into her mouth and pushed her back gently. He nodded at the center of the bed. “Wanna eat you out.”

She laid back, holding a hand out to him, and pulled him onto the bed next to her. Settling over her, he mouthed at the swell of her breast and ran a hand down over her belly. She arched into him and gasped when he sucked his thumb into his mouth before thrumming at her clit with quick movements. 

He pressed his forehead to hers and rubbed his fingers down over her core, pulling wetness up to her clit. He ghosted his lips over hers and maintained eye contact, tutting mockingly when her eyes grew heavy. 

“Keep lookin’ at me, baby.”

She breathed deep and locked her eyes with his, biting her lip when he eased a finger into her, thumb still thrumming at her clit.

He kept the pace deliberately slow, pulling away completely when she tried to rush the pace by rolling her hips into his hand.

She huffed, frustrated despite the building heat in her belly. She looked down, neck arching to get a look at his hand. He tsked, his free hand grabbing her jaw and redirecting her eyes to his. She gasped as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her mouth, feeding another finger into her.

“Keep those pretty eyes up here.” He grinned when she whined in response.

“You never useta be a tease, D.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Y’bring out the best in me.” Eyes hot on hers, he sped up the motion of his fingers only to all but stop a minute later.

She let out another noise of wordless frustration. “Please, baby.” He hummed and she squirmed against him, trying to speed him up. “Please, what?”

She reached up and petted his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just a little faster, baby, please.”

He cooed at her. “Not enough for ya?”

Shaking her head, she dug her fingernails into his shoulder. 

“That’s too bad, I’m havin’ fun.”

She whimpered and he rewarded her, adding a third finger. Gasping against the burn, she arched hard into him and held his eyes as her walls fluttered around his fingers. 

Moaning against her mouth, he laughed. “Guess it was enough. Or are you just that easy for me?”

“It’s you, baby.” She nodded, mouth open and gasping against his, eyes still locked on him. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

He grinned and sucked his fingers into his mouth. “Taste good, baby.” He kissed her hard and then dragged his mouth down her body, his eyes closing as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“My pretty baby.” He mouthed at her belly and then held her gaze as he moved to lick up her slit with one broad swipe of his tongue.

She moaned and reached for him, digging her hands through his hair. “Daryl, please.”

He pressed an ironically chaste kiss to her clit. “Say my name again.”

“Daryl.” She drew it out, almost rolling the r, back arching and toes curling as he treated her with little kitten licks to her clit. 

He pressed his face to her and worked at her earnestly, sucking her clit into his mouth and pressing his fingers back inside her. “Yer so hot n’wet, baby.”

She nodded, twisting her fingers, inadvertently pulling at his hair. Groaning, he rutted his hips into the bed. “For me?”

“Always for you.”

He shifted to lick down at where she was stretched around his fingers. “That’s right. All mine. My pretty little wife.” He muttered, almost to himself, and attached his lips to her clit again, angling his fingers so they battered up against that spot right behind her pubic bone. 

She arched so hard that he hooked his free arm around her hips, pinning her to the bed. A couple more hard thrusts of his hand and she seized up against him. 

Moaning his name, she collapsed bonelessly. “Fuck, D.”

He kissed her, laying over her like a heated blanket. “Pretty when y’cum.” She reached down to trail her fingers over his dick. He pulled his hips away. “Almost there. Just want y’to catch your breath.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m good.”

He moved to lay next to her, arranging her back against him. “Not too sensitive?” 

She flinched minutely when he petted over her core lightly. “A bit, but sometimes that makes it even better.”

He turned her head to kiss her. “No rush though.”

She reached down, swiped her hand through her own wetness and wrapped her hand around him.

He moaned into her mouth and she pulled gently at him, pressing kisses to his jaw as his neck arched. 

“You’re so gorgeous, D.”

He pressed his face to her shoulder and groaned into her skin. Pulling away, he batted her hand out of the way and drew her leg back over his hip. They both groaned as he rutted himself up into her. 

The position required more of a grinding motion than either of them preferred, but it didn’t take long for the heat to build again. 

He reached up and cupped her breasts, using his hold on her to grind her harder back into him.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

He grunted, nodding against her jaw. “Me too.” He moved one hand down from her breasts and pinched her clit. She came with a shout of his name, Daryl following soon after. 

**

“So, how’d you get out?”

“One guard can’t cover two exits.” Jesus was smug, more smug than Mitzi thought he ought to be. “Or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?”

“Right.” Daryl drawled.

He glanced up at Daryl as he came to stand next to her, all rolling shoulders and angry breathing. He shifted so Mitzi was behind him, cheek pressed to his bicep to peer around him.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” Jesus seemed vaguely offended. 

“I know you ain’t.” Daryl scoffed. “You couldn’t handle her on her worst day. I’m protectin’ you if anythin’.”

“From what?’

“Me, asshole.” Mitzi grinned, teeth bared. “I was lookin’ forward to the tapioca I saw in that truck, the one that’s now at the bottom of the lake.”

Jesus appraised her and seemed to come to the conclusion that they were exaggerating. “I checked out your arsenal. I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. You’re well-equipped, but your provisions are low.” He sighed. “Very low for the amount of people you have. 54?” He asked Rick.

Maggie crossed her arms, Glenn leaning forward, pistol on the table, on her other side. “More than that.”

Jesus remained unconvinced. “Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef.”

“Yeah. She ain’t here.” Daryl rasped, still holding his revolver in his gun hand.

“Look, we got off to a bad start.”

Mitzi snorted. “Y’mean when you tried to rob us?”

He glanced at her then up at Daryl. “But we’re on the same side - the living side. Y’all had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn’t. I’m from a place that’s a lot like this one.” He glanced around the table. “Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and you looked like trouble,” Jesus looked at Mitzi and smiled. “Especially you.” He shrugged. “But I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t.” Rick nodded. “She is trouble.”

She reached out and shoved Rick’s shoulder, flipping him the bird.

Daryl crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against her. “Y’lucky you didn’t come ‘cross just her.”

Jesus looked mildly, playfully shocked. 

“Kinda wished she had been out there by herself.” Rick rubbed over his face. 

Daryl nodded. “Woulda road-hauled his ass.”

“We woulda had that truck.”

Mitzi grinned. “Guess I’ll start doin’ runs by myself then?”

“No, y’won’t.”

Jesus smiled, more genuinely. “You’re good people and this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other.”

Glenn spoke up. “Do you have food?”

“We’ve started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum.”

“Tell us why we should believe you.”

“I’ll show you.” He smiled around the table. “If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer.”

**

Rick pushed off the desk he had been leaning against. “We heard the name Negan. While back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?”

“Negan’s the head of a group of  people he calls the Saviors. As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up.” Jesus sighed. “They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And they killed one of us, Rory, he was sixteen years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory’s not exactly good at confrontation.” He shrugged. “He’s not the leader I would’ve chosen, but he helped make this place what it is and the people like him.”

Maggie nodded. “He made the deal.”

“Half of everything. Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors.”

“What do you get in return?”

Jesus smiled at Glenn, holding his hands up as if to say ‘this’. “They don’t attack this place. They don’t kill us.”

Daryl set his hands on the back of the couch Mitzi was sitting on. “Why not just kill them?”

“Most of the people here don’t even know how to fight, even if we had ammo.”

“Have you tried trainin’ people?” Mitzi sat forward. “You have the numbers and damn tall walls. With a little training, it wouldn’t matter if you had ammo.”

Jesus shrugged helplessly. “I was prepared to but Gregory forbade me.”

“Forbade?” Mitzi tsked. “That chickenshit just rolled on over, huh? Decreed that you couldn’t fight back. What a fuckin’ dick.”

Rick stepped forward. “Well, how many people does Negan have?”

“We don’t know.” Jesus sighed. “We’ve seen groups as big as 20.”

“Now, hol’up.” Daryl rasped. “So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything? These dicks just got a good story.” He paced around the couch. “The boogeyman, he ain’t shit.”

“Well, how do you know?”

“The bells and whistles ain’t necessary if you ain’t afraid and you ain’t afraid if you have real power.” Mitzi nodded. “They’re just bullies on a really fucked schoolyard.” 

Abraham nodded. “A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles.”

Daryl glanced down at Mitzi. She nodded. “You know, we’ll do it. If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine and one of them cows.”

Jesus looked at Rick who shrugged. “Confrontation’s never been something we’ve had trouble with.” Rick turned to Mitzi. “What do you think?”

“I’m for it.” Mitzi crossed her arms over her chest. “There are a lot of unknowns but I think if we can get some answers, we can get it done, easy-peesy.”

Jesus nodded, still unsure. “I’ll take it to Gregory.”

After Jesus left, they walked out onto the balcony to get some air and take stock of the settlement.

“They have food. We don’t.” Rick spoke softly, still trying to convince the more reticent group members, namely Maggie and Michonne. “We don’t have enough of anything. Except us. What we can do.” He turned back to the group, nodding. “This is the trade.”

Maggie sighed. “It’s gonna cost us somethin’.”

Mitzi nodded. “Yeah, it will. But it’s something we’re gonna end up paying one way or another.”

“Are we sure that this is worth that price?” Michonne shrugged. “What if we wade into something we don’t wanna be a part of.” 

Setting her hands on her hips, Mitzi sighed. “I wasn’t getting the impression that Jesus was exaggerating. It lines up with what Sasha and Daryl told me about runnin’ into them.”

Michonne leaned back against the railing. “Jesus doesn’t come across as someone who’d lie to get us to do something for them.”

“These assholes had the cajones to stop a fuel tanker with motorcycles.” Mitzi rubbed at her face. “They’re gonna come for us and since everyone else is rollin’ over and showin’ their bellies, they are gonna expect us to as well. Best to get rid of them now.”

Glenn nodded. “We aren’t assassins though.”

“No, we're soldiers.” She smiled sadly. “Soldiers get paid to kill people, too.”

Glenn stared at her and reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

**

She settled next to Daryl in the pew, patting his thigh as he ran his arm along the back of the pew behind her.

Rick stood and began to explain the current situation to the Alexandrians that hadn’t gone with them. “We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We’re getting food, eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they’re not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would’ve found us, just like those Wolves did, just like Jesus did. They would’ve killed someone, or some of us, and then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them, but by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it’s how we keep this place. It’s how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here’s your chance to say your piece.”

There was silence before someone stood in the back of the church. 

Morgan shuffled, looking down at the ground. “You’re sure we can do it? We can beat them?”

Rick considered him quietly, before glancing down at Mitzi. “What this group has done, what we’ve learned, what we’ve become, all of us- yes, I’m sure.”

Mitzi nodded. “They aren’t like super soldiers or nothin’. I dealt with assholes like this all through my military career. You got a narcissistic leader and all the little worker bees he’s scared into doing his bidding. He strong-arm’s some people, intimidation, big shows of force, but he’s only holding on because of the fear. We can beat ‘em.”

Morgan seemed to be working himself up to something. “Then all we have to do is just tell them that.”

Rick stuttered, floored by Morgan’s naivety. “Well, they don’t compromise.”

“This isn’t a compromise. This is a choice you give them. It’s a way out for them and for us.”

Mitzi leaned forward, Daryl running his hand over her back. “Look, I understand, this is a hard thing to contemplate doin’, but we gotta. In order for what you’re suggestin’ to work, they have to believe that we can do it. As much, if not more, than we believe it ourselves. This Negan guy doesn’t know us from Adam. He is not going to believe us, just because we tell him so.” 

Morgan shook his head, still looking down. “We should try, though. Try to tell them.”

“Not if it risks our lives.” Mitzi stood. “I don’t know you that well, Morgan, but I have done what you’re askin’ us t’do. I have walked up to the warlord’s office and said, ‘surrender or we’ll kill you’.” She snorted. “And that was while I was wearing a US Army uniform, holding my rifle, the full authority of the US government behind my every word. It still didn’t go well, not consistently enough to make it worth it. It got people killed, people that didn’t need to die, and it will get people killed now.”

Sighing, Morgan turned to address her. “Why did you choose to do that, if you didn’t think it’d work?”

“I didn’t choose nothin’. My commander said ‘go and do’ and I went and did.” She threw her hands in the air, sitting back down. “My choice would've been to take them out with as minimal cost to my men as I could. Just like we need to take these guys out with minimal loss of our people’s lives.”

Rick nodded. “We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety. No. We have to come for them before they can come for us. We can’t leave them alive.”

“Where there is life, there is possibility.”

Mitzi’s jaw dropped but Rick beat her to it. “Of them hitting us.”

“We’re not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this.”

“Morgan. They always come back.”

Morgan sighed. “Come back when they’re dead too.”

“Yeah, we’ll stop them. We have before.”

Morgan looked down. “I’m not talking about the walkers.”

Mitzi stood again. “The only time I have ever seen someone after they died, in the way I think you’re alluding to, whether it be in nightmares or flashbacks, it was when I didn’t act and the person or persons I failed to kill took out one of my people. I have regretted the deaths of a large number of people, but never the death of some wannabe dictator like this asshole.”

Rick breathed deep. “Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it’s not up to me. I’ll talk to the people still at home. I’ll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?”

**

“Mitzi will take point. It’s her plan and she is by far the most experienced at this.” Rick nodded to her and she stepped forward, hand holding Daryl’s loosely.

Mitzi sucked in a breath. “We don’t know exactly what we’ll find when we breach those doors. We don’t know what the layout of the building is, not exactly. So we’ll have to do this slower than we would’ve liked. We’ll draw out the guards with Andy. When one of them goes back in to grab the hostage we’ll move in, killing the guard that stays outside.”

“What if they both go back in?”

She smiled at Aaron. “They won’t. If they do, this’ll be much easier.”

He looked confused. “Why?”

“Because that will mean they don’t have a clue what they’re doing. One will stay out to keep an eye on Andy while the other goes in to get the hostage-”

“Craig.” Andy cut in. 

“Craig.” Mitzi nodded. “Once the second guard is dead, Andy and Craig, whose condition is unknown but not likely to be good, will take off back to Hilltop. At that point, we’ll breach.” She sighed. “Because we don’t know the layout, we’ll go room by room, splitting into teams to cover hallways as we come to them. Use your knife as long as you can but you will have to neutralize everyone you come across. We can’t risk them comin’ up behind us, dead or alive.”

“Neutralize?”

She shrugged at Gabriel. “Best word for it. I don’t have time to sugarcoat anything today. Kill them and make sure they don’t get back up. Points to remember: This is a buddy system sorta thing. One is trigger-ready, the other opens the door. Be as fast as you can but safety and quiet is more important.” She breathed deep, looking out at the assembled men and women. “This sucks and most of y’all ain’t never had to consider this before. I’m sorry, but we need us t’do this. Let’s get all of us home.”

Everyone nodded and Mitzi checked her magazine almost out of habit and slid it back in, toggling the rifle to automatic. 

Heath passed by her and she stopped him. “I’ve seen you shoot. You’re a good shot, but start bending your elbows when you aim. You’ll have more control and stamina. The tension should be in your biceps, not your elbows.”

He nodded, nervousness written all over his posture. 

She squeezed his shoulder. “Stay on me. I got ya.”

He wandered over to Glenn and she felt Daryl’s hand on her waist. He stood from the hood of the car and pulled her gently to him.

She turned and buried her face in his chest. Breathing deep, he pressed his nose to her hair. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I know this is the right move, the only move, but I have a feelin’ we’re about to start somethin’.”

He nodded. “I feel it too.”

She breathed deep and stood straight, nodding as she squared her shoulders. She moved to leave and he stopped her, pressing a kiss to her mouth quickly. 

“Love ya, Spitfire.”

She smiled and knocked some of the hair out of his eyes. “I love you too, baby.” 

**

She stepped in front of Carl, clenching her jaw as the gray-haired dickwad that had been on their tail all day, held his hands up in parody of surrender. 

He grinned, standing to his full height as if that would intimidate her. “I’m just talkin’ to him, sugar. Don’t worry, I don’t decide who dies.”

She pulled her pistol from the holster and shoved it and the AK she had been using against his chest. She thanked whatever god applied that she had had the inkling to hide her M110 before leaving Alexandria.

He stumbled back, holding her weapons and the handgun he had taken off of Carl, jaw flexing as he decided how he was gonna react to her. In the end, he grinned and reached over her shoulder to flick at Carl’s hat.

“See? No harm, no foul.” He turned to shove the guns at some flunkie and smiled at them. “Okay. Let’s get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

Abraham, Sasha, Aaron and Rick lowered Maggie as gently as they could, helping her to her knees. Rick, shell-shocked and overwhelmed, gaped at the small army surrounding him. 

The head-prick approached almost politely. “I’m gonna need you on your knees.”

Mitzi grabbed Carl’s hand and drew him to the ground next to her. He moved to say something and she shook her head.

Once they were all settled, head-prick hollered at another flunkie. “Dwight! Chop-Chop.”

Her jaw clenched when Michonne, Glenn, Rosita and Daryl emerged from the van. Daryl caught her eye from across the group, pale and obviously wounded. 

Glenn was the last out, settling to his knees with a plaintive, “Maggie?”

Head-Prick smiled and backed up to the RV. “Alright! We have a full boat. Let’s meet the man.” He rapped on the side wall and moved away from the door. 

“Pissin’ our pants yet?” The man held a bat over his shoulder and grinned. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.” He paced the length of the group, staring down into their faces. “Yep. It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?”

“It’s this one. He’s the guy.”

He sighed and approached Rick with slow unbothered steps. “Hi. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes.” He grinned again. “Yes, you are. You see Rick, whatever you go, no matter what, you don’t mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes, pay attention.” 

He swung the bat down, pointing it over Rick’s shoulder. “Give me your shit, or I will kill you.” 

He chuckled and Mitzi dug her fingers into her thighs to avoid jumping clean over Sasha and wrapping her hands around his throat. 

“Today was career day. We invested a lot so that you would know who I am and what I can do.” He sauntered a few steps down the line and held his bat up pointing at Rick. “You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now I know that that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out, you are not safe, not even close. In fact, you are pegged. More pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now, the more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door, you let us in, we own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down.”

He stopped. “You understand?” He held his hand over his ear. “What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I’m comfortable with. And for that, you’re gonna pay. So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” He brought the bat up, showing it to Rick. “This… This is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.” 

He stopped in front of Abraham, who stared back at him, jaw set, shoulders pulled back. Negan smiled. “Huh.” Running a hand over his beard, he looked over at Mitzi. “I gotta shave this shit.” 

He sauntered over to Mitzi. “You related to Big Red over there?”

Mitzi stared back, unflinchingly, seething when he had the audacity to laugh. He squatted in front of her. “No answer, baby?”

She grit her teeth and vaguely contemplated headbutting the asshole. Daryl knew her too well, however, and shifted forward on his knees. “Spitfire. Don’t.”

“Spitfire?” He grinned. “What an interesting name. I’ll bet, with a name like that, that you have a classic red headed temper. Always did like a red headed woman. They are fiery, sexy, and so much fun.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t flinch when he pushed into her space, almost nose to nose with her. She stayed still, eyes on his, as he raised a hand to tug on a loose spiral. She stared back at him, head high, shoulders squared.

He looked up, ostensibly to address his audience, but Mitzi knew the truth. He had lost the staring match. 

“What is the probability that one group will have two unrelated gingers, much less two gingers like these motherfuckers? Tough as nails, I swear. Neither of them have fuckin’ flinched.” 

There was a small smattering of hollow laughter and he looked back down at her. 

“You are the toughest broad I have ever had the absolute pleasure to have on her knees for me. But I reckon that he might be a tad bit tougher than you.” He winked. “You’re prettier than he is, baby, don’t worry.”

She arched an eyebrow and her lip curled. “I ain’t.”

Part 8

[evie-winchester]

Just close your eyes

Soon we'll be home

Fall asleep to the radio

The squeak from the Impala’s doors resounds in the hazy morning, autumn fog still lingering in the air. Last night’s sleep a bare dent in the tired bodies of the three Winchester siblings, but the hunt is finished and the bunker –home, awaits.

A stray ray of sun shines through the semi cloudy sky and reaches the youngest Winchester’s eyes, making her squint while she still tries to cling to her previous sleepy state in hopes of taking an extended nap in the drive home.

One of Dean’s rock cassettes starts playing, but the medium (never low) volume of it reveals that even he still feels a bit sleepy. While Sam gets more comfortable in the passenger seat, the car starts leaving the motel parking lot and the familiar rumble of the motor combines with the rock music forming a unusual lullaby that puts the middle and youngest of the siblings at ease, the latter laying down in the back seat using her jacket as a makeshift pillow.

Didn't know that getting old would come and meet me

Wishing on a star

Waiting on a car

To take me away

Another finished hunt, but the mood was bitter and grim due to not being able to save in time one of the last victims. The youngest sits in the backseat of the Impala while her brothers finish packing their stuff getting ready for the road, her feet dangling and scraping the gravel of the motel parking lot and her head cast down, heavy as her heart.

Even though just being in the family car usually makes her feel better, this time it doesn’t feel like it’s enough, and in the back of her mind she knows that even when they start driving away from the town her feelings will still catch up with her. Guilt is faster than a car, it seems.

The rumble of Baby’s engine does little to soothe the gnawing feeling eating up her heart and mind, but still somehow she manages to fall asleep against the window. Her sleep is shallow and plagued with a replay of the hunt’s events, but she sleeps until they reach the bunker where she goes to her room to try and process her feelings.

What's it gonna take?

What's the final say?

Is this all worth it?

Her legs finally give up just a couple of meters away from the motel room they’re staying at, no longer able to push forward with the dizziness the blood loss is bringing. Sam picks her up and makes the final stretch while Dean goes ahead and prepares what little they have in a first aid kit that the youngest Winchester herself insisted on assembling some time ago.

Through half lidded eyes and raggedy breaths, a dumb victorious smile makes way in her lips- she had killed two monsters on her own and got to save a young girl. A bit of blood loss with a probably future huge scar is nothing compared to the relief of saving a life. It’s a pure win in her eyes, even if her brothers are scrambling trying to stop the bleeding and tend her wounds.

Her body aches and her eyelids feel heavy, and she’s sure she’s gonna wake up in a hospital bed after she falls asleep right now, but still her little smile persists while remembering the girl’s face. It was worth it, after all.

Just close your eyes

Soon we'll be home

Fall asleep to the radio

The image of the youngest Winchester driving the Impala while her older brothers were half passed out in the back seat was rather unusual, but she was the only one not injured and more rested, so nobody could argue that she was the best candidate to drive them all home to the bunker.

Behind the wheel for the second time in the day, at least her knuckles weren't pressed white like a couple of hours before when she was rushing to get to the motel to stitch her brothers up. She glanced into the rear view mirror, seeing Sam nodding off against the left window and Dean fighting to keep his eyes open, his head resting on the right window.

"Just get some sleep guys, we'll be home soon", she said quietly while turning on the radio at a low volume to make some background noise in the dead of the night. She knew they were tired and hoped that, even if they were just in the back of a car, they could get some rest until they got home and could sleep properly.

She sang along to the radio in gentle whispers, not wanting to wake up her brothers but loving the song too much to keep quiet.