#this is for all my guilt ridden girlies!!! and not girlies

[fear-ne]

when is a beautiful & sweet but a lil fucked up purple haired sorcerer going to brush my tears aside in the marketplace and tell me *i’m* not a bad person

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

A03 coming soon..

About Me:

Ry here 🤭 I’m 28 years old, Texas born and raised girly, latinaaaa, WWE fan since Attitude Era brooo 👀 I’m also in my junior year of my college journey and I’m majoring in Social Work. I don’t take any requests, I do try to run polls biweekly to see how everyone is responding to my fics. I have two fics completed and three ongoing. Quite frankly I’m the biggest Quentin Tarantino fan. 🩷 If you have any questions or need help understanding my fanfics, don’t be afraid to message me :)

Masterlists ⬇️

Between the Ropes Trilogy

Between The Ropes Soundtrack

In Between the Ropes, a secret love between Jey and Rhea slowly evolves from stolen glances and fleeting moments into a blazing passion that threatens to defy the rules of family and loyalty. As their connection deepens, their choices leave scars not only on their bodies but on their hearts. Amidst the scrutiny of the world around them, they find themselves caught in a love they can’t control, with consequences that reach far beyond their personal desires.

Between The Ropes Masterlist

In Sacrifices, Rhea and Jey are about to welcome a new life into the world, but the excitement of impending parenthood brings with it the resurfacing shadows of Rhea’s traumatic past. Old relationships, unresolved pain, and personal demons test their bond as they face pressures from all sides. Their love is put to the ultimate test as they must confront what it truly means to build a future together, but as Rhea’s history catches up to them, their path forward becomes uncertain.

Sacrifices Masterlist

The trilogy culminates in Checkmate, where tragedy strikes, leaving Jey to raise their son, Jeyson, alone. Grief-stricken and guilt-ridden, he isolates himself, consumed by the need to protect his son. Meanwhile, Rhea is forced to confront the consequences of her past decisions as she struggles to survive. Both face immense challenges—Jey with his guilt, and Rhea with her fight for redemption. In the end, the question remains: Will their love survive the ultimate test, or will everything they���ve fought for come crashing down, leaving nothing but regret and broken dreams?

Checkmate: is a chess move that makes it impossible for your opponent to win.

Checkmate Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature Content

Author’s Note: if you are having difficulty with the timeline, a thorough broken down timeline can be found here.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and storylines depicted in this fanfiction are purely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story is not affiliated with or endorsed by WWE, its performers, or any other entities related to professional wrestling. The characters are portrayed in a fictional manner and are not representative of the real-life individuals. This fanfiction is told in a non-linear narrative style, with some events presented out of chronological order. Flashbacks, present-day scenes, and future events are woven together to give a deeper understanding of the characters and their journey. Please keep this in mind as you read, as timelines may shift to enhance the emotional and thematic storytelling.

Across The Ropes… a Zilla Fatu x OC Fic.

Across The Ropes follows Zilla Fatu, a 25-year-old aspiring WWE wrestler, haunted by the legacy of his late father's addiction and death. When he meets Dahlia Martinez, a 20-year-old college student with her own painful past, their connection sparks an unexpected emotional and physical bond. Dahlia, a ward of the state who lost her mother to an overdose, struggles with trust and vulnerability. As they spend more time together, they navigate their shared trauma, facing moments of intimacy, miscommunication, and fear of attachment. Their journey explores love, healing, and the challenges of overcoming their pasts to build something real. Can Zilla and Dahlia find a way to embrace their flaws and heal together, or will their scars keep them apart?

This is set in the Between the Ropes universe with mentions of characters from that trilogy.

Across The Ropes Masterlist

Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic. *COMPLETE*

Plot: When Jey Uso is sidelined by a severe injury, his girlfriend Rhea Ripley is paired with his twin brother, Jimmy, to compete as a team. Their growing in-ring chemistry soon extends outside the ring, complicating relationships as Jimmy’s professional admiration turns into an unhealthy obsession. WWE capitalizes on their dynamic for a storyline, fueling Jimmy’s possessiveness and straining Rhea’s bond with Jey. Caught between the brothers and the pressures of WWE’s narrative, Rhea faces tough choices that blur the line between fiction and reality, threatening her relationship and career. Will Jey and Rhea’s connection survive the chaos?

This is told in an alternative Wrestling Universe with some elements that have happened incorporated..

Possession Masterlist

Power: a Bloodline x Rhea Ripley *COMPLETE*

Plot: Demi Bennett is caught in a complex and dark dynamic with a group of powerful men—Jonathan, Joe, Joseph, and Joshua—each exerting different forms of control and influence over her. As the tension between them escalates, Demi is pushed to her emotional and physical limits, struggling to reconcile the pain, vulnerability, and occasional tenderness that exists within the power dynamics. As she endures the intense experiences thrust upon her, Demi must navigate her own desires, fears, and a growing conflict over whether to continue down this dangerous path or attempt to escape the grip of those who dominate her life.

A/N This fic was taken down after excessive bullying but after a break and some helpful contributors it is back.

This story falls into the dark romance genre and includes non con/reluctance themes that may be triggering and unsuitable for some readers. This is a work of fiction and I in no way advocate for this type of thing in real life. All characters are operating under the PRICK acronym, Personal responsibility in consensual kink. If this is not for you please keep scrolling.

Power Masterlist

Marilyn Monroe: a Jhea fanfic.

WARNING: This fanfiction explores sensitive themes, including mental health struggles, trauma, mentions of past sexual abuse, suicidal ideation, and things of that nature. Moving forward this fanfiction will contain intense emotional moments and depictions of characters navigating complex personal challenges such as suicide attempts & self harm. This is a work of fiction and does not reflect the real life characters or lives of any individuals depicted in this story. Please proceed with caution, and if you or someone you know is struggling, consider seeking support from a trusted professional or helpline. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 & 988

Plot: Jey and Rhea are two broken souls who meet at a support group after separate suicide attempts. They form an intense, volatile connection, finding solace in each other's pain. But as their relationship deepens, they realize their love could either pull them toward healing or push them further into their destructive tendencies.

Themes of: suicide, self harm, mental health, recounts of suicide attempts.

Please proceed with caution in reading this fanfic.

Marilyn Monroe Masterlist

Coming Soon:

The Terror Trilogy.

A collection of three short fanfics curated by Ry based off very popular thriller/ horror movies.

Anticipated Release Date: June 2025.

The Fatus

This fanfic follows Jey Uso, the head of a powerful Samoan crime family, as he struggles to balance the ruthless demands of his empire with the pressures of family life. His wife, Rhea, enjoys the privileges of being a mob wife but refuses to be just a silent partner-she's as cunning and dangerous as Jey, making her both his greatest ally and his biggest challenge. As rival factions, federal investigations, and betrayal threaten their reign, Jey and Rhea must navigate shifting loyalties and moral dilemmas while keeping their marriage from crumbling under the weight of their empire. In a world where power is everything, can love survive, or will the Fatu legacy destroy them both?

Preview Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/acute-crashout-jeyuso/774829755166064640/the-fatus-a-jhea-fanfic-chapter-1-intro-may

Anticipated Release Date: Late March 2025

6Witch

This fanfic explores the complex and passionate relationship between Jey Uso, Rhea Ripley, and Damian Priest, who form a secret throuple amid the pressures of their high-profile lives. As they navigate their forbidden love, the trio faces intense public scrutiny, having to carefully conceal their relationship from both the media and the public eye. As their bond deepens, they must find ways to balance their feelings with the constant fear of exposure, all while dealing with the challenges of jealousy, secrecy, and the tension of keeping their love hidden. Will they be able to protect their unconventional relationship from the world, or will the weight of society's judgment tear them apart?

Preview Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/acute-crashout-jeyuso/774828740167532544/6witch-jey-x-rhea-x-damian-fanfic-chapter-one

Anticipated Release Date: Late March 2025.

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

I agree with all your takes on omfd season 2... wasn't all that a laugh and a half :/ do you have any thoughts on a prospective (?) season 3?

Oh yeah lmao, the writers were definitely having a laff, unlike me 😭😭😭

When it comes to season 3:

• I can't imagine or accept a situation in which Izzy is not there in the flesh. Not after a season that specifically introduced the concept of magic and the gravy basket. I don't want him to be a ghost or a vision of guilt-ridden characters. I want my boy back, in the flesh, to pester everyone around him and to finally have his hot girl summer ‼️‼️‼️

• as much as even after the first 3 eps of s2 I could potentially see Steddyhands happening, all of that kinda went to shit in my eyes after they killed Izzy off.

• After everything that happened I can't and don't want to imagine Ed and Izzy reconciling enough to get involved with each other romantically.

• I can see Izzy with Stede tho. I'd actually like that quite a lot.

• at this point I'm not a Blackbonnet girlie (gn) by any stretch, and well, I can't imagine myself enjoying a potential season 3 if all it has to offer will be more drama between those two

• knowing them both, I think they will be making genuine attempts at running an inn for half an episode. And I'm being generous

• also, I can't imagine a season 3 that has Zheng just. Hanging out on the Revenge. Making out with Oluwande. And not even attempting to rebuild her pirate empire. I need my girl cunning and powerful with a fleet to show for it. I think that what they did to her by the end of the season was a shit writing decision. Was her losing her entire fleet... Supposed to humble her? To teach her a lesson? What lesson? That it's not things but people that really matter? It's kind of a weak message, especially for this character. And the execution of it was just. Plain bad lmao. Her talk with Auntie by the end was cute, yes, but it came so out of the blue tbh. If it has been established earlier on that maybe Zheng feels insecure sometimes and would like for Auntie specifically to tell her she's proud of her, that would make more sense. But this way it was kinda. It didn't have the punch it should've had.

• also sidenote: Zheng deciding to team up with Stede (even if it was mostly because Ed was also there) doesn't reflect well on him... It reflects badly on her. My girl deserves allies as powerful as her and Stede is simply not that.

• I want more crew shenanigans. And more backstory for every crew member!!!

• I can imagine a version of the story in which Stede and Ed break up and just don't get back together again by the end. It's so beautiful here. Hold my hand

• also sidenote, but has Jim just completely given up on taking their revenge on the Siete Gallos? I think it would've been fun to revisit that storyline

• also - WHAT HAPPENED TO JIM'S BROTHER

• honestly - after the shitshow that was season 2, I can't think of an actual potential way that the story could end. And tbh I don't think the writers do, either. I do have ideas, but they're mine and not the writers' of the show, and thus not very likely to actually happen.

[explosionshark]

Clarissa oxenfree for the character ask game? still love how you write her :]

General opinion/How much I care about them: she's like! My second favorite Oxenfree character! Right after Alex! I think a lot of this has to do with Avital Ash having an incredible voice and bringing a lot to the character but it's also bc her role in the narrative is so much juicier than the other NPCs. She's such a bitch to Alex, but you see a lot of warmth she shows to the people she cares about (Michael, Nona) and the duality there is so interesting. Plus she's so fucking haunted and she dies so gruesomely so many times and the ghosts want her soooooo bad and I think that's neat

A ship I love: I mean personally when it comes to the stuff I write it's Alex/Clarissa all the way. But I like her past relationship with Michael a lot too

A non-romantic relationship that I love: Clarissa/Nona friendship is sooooooo cute. They love each other! Clarissa salvaged Nona's birthday! They came out to this dumb fuckin island party together! Also I think Ren/Clarissa would have been fun to see more of - friend downgraded to creepy neighbor was a really fun line

The NOTP: uh idk. The only ppl I really see her shipped with ever are Alex, Michael and Nona and I'm basically fine with all of those?

My biggest headcanon about them: she is bi and she usually goes for bad boy/aloof types so Michael was an outlier for her.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: (if I have none in my WIPs I'll make one up on the spot!) So there was this one longfic idea I really wanted to write for a while that was post-game Off The Island. Alex and Clarissa, having been the biggest targets of the ghosts are still dealing with aftereffects that the others aren't and they're basically hiding it from everyone. It manifests in different ways - Alex is possessed by the spirits of the Kanaloa victims. She slips into their memories, is influenced by their personalities, experiences hallucinations, etc.

Clarissa's haunting is bodily, trauma she suffered on the island echoing out across timelines. She wakes up with bruises, spits out bits of glass, you see her from the corner of your eye and her neck is fully broken, you blink and she's fine (ngl part of the point of this was just to give me an excuse to do a little bit of horror). Alex and Clarissa realize they're both dealing with a similar problem and team up to figure out how to help each other. They also have weird guilt ridden UST about it. Actually this last week I was going through some old WIPs and found part of this fic I think I could post as just a standalone so look out for that this weekend/early next week.

Something that makes me think of them: (a song, a character in another fandom, an animal, anything) "Some are Lakes" by Land of Talk is THE Clarissa/Alex song for me, it's just 100% vibeologically correct. But when it comes to thinking about Clarissa on her own I think she'd be a cold wave/dark wave type of girlie. Cold Cave, Tempers, Light Asylum, etc

[espies-galaxy]

My May Favorite Reads

Dear World,

As much as I love television and movies...nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to a good book. For whatever reason, this summer, I have already been sucked into a black hole of books. I have even found a new author that I am obsessed with.

So even though it is only May, here are my book suggestions for books to read this summer. And sorry, gentlemen, most of these are a little girly!

All descriptions graciously provided by Barnes & Noble!

1. Girl Online and Girl Online: On Tour By Zoe Sugg

A coming-of-age novel that perfectly captures what it means to grow up and fall in love in today’s digital world.

And then.

The sequel; Penny joins her rock-star boyfriend on the road in Europe. When Noah invites Penny on his first-ever European tour, she can’t wait to spend the summer with her rock-god-tastic boyfriend. But, between Noah’s jam-packed schedule, less-than-welcoming band mates, and threatening

2. Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes by Denise Grove Swank

"Though much of the book is light-hearted and occasionally outright hilarious, the author sneaks in a few home truths along the way that will hit you where it counts, like how even someone’s best intentions can box you in." --Everybody Needs a Little Romance

3. Pretend You Don't See Here by Mary Higgins Clark

Mary Higgins Clark sends chills down readers’ spines with the story of Lacey Farrell, a rising star on the Manhattan real estate scene. One day, while showing a luxurious skyline co-op, Lacey is witness to a murder—and to the dying words of the victim...

4. Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin

Once I opened this book I was so shocked. I honestly picked it because I liked the title, so I went into it blind and this was honestly the most amazing book about a pressing issue.

Riley Cavanaugh is many things: Punk rock. Snarky. Rebellious. And gender fluid. Some days Riley identifies as a boy, and others as a girl. But Riley isn't exactly out yet. And between starting a new school and having a congressman father running for reelection in über-conservative Orange County, the pressure—media and otherwise—is building up in Riley's life.

5. The Deepest Cut By J.A. Templeton

This is the first book then it goes: The Haunted, The Departed and then The MacKinnon Curse. However, The MacKinnon Curse is a 67 page prequel; a great back story I read after The Deepest Cut, almost wish I had read it first. Precede as you wish!

Sixteen-year-old Riley Williams has been able to see ghosts since the car crash that took her mother's life and shattered her family. Guilt-ridden over the belief that she's somehow responsible for her mom's death, Riley is desperate to see her mother's elusive spirit to gain her forgiveness.

Obviously, some of these are more than one book. However, you will understand once you read the first one that you will NEED to read the rest of the series. I can do another update next month with some more of my absolute favorite books that you may want to read!

Sincerely,

Your Fellow Book Lover

(originally written by me on May 23, 2016)

[tokiko220]

finally!! I just adore all the characters so fucking much??? And the world?? It's so fucking real nothing is as it seems yet everything is. There's magic but all the problems are so fucking regular and the entire point is that even if you have magic powers you need your friends more than anything and you need to communicate and be kind to each other and through mutual trust and love you can achieve anything heart heart

and the characters my god the characters! This bitch is always lying to you somehow, either because you're seeing everything through the lens of Hinamizawa syndrome or the characters are being affected by it. AND they're so layered! You don't really know any of them until well into the game girlie! Like Rena, oh my love Rena. The girl next door! The cute future house wife! She's so understanding and nice:) But also has a merciless competitive streak and a history of hinamizawa syndrome induced bouts of violence haha She's also extremely smart and empathetic, she always knows what's up- good luck trying to lie to her about anything, but especially how you feel! And don't get me started on how much i love when she's willing to put down some tough love, but that's exactly what it is- love. Just like I love her heart eyes

Mion, i love her sm. She's the fun tomboy club leader! Kind of crude, super fun, "one of the boys" and loyal to a fucking fault. Daughter of a goddamm Yakuza and the most powerful family in Hinamizawa, being prepped to take over after Oryou. Secret torture dungeon + body disposal pit under her house, very aware of the dark parts of Hinamizawa, its history and especially her family's history, she isn't naive in any capacity but she's absolutely determined to be kind and see the best in people. I remember a video essayist saying something akin to "In a world where people are either friends or enemies, Mion does everything she can to make them her friends" and that shit is so true. She's choosing to be kind and positive because her family is the kind to make one of their very own daughters rip out her nails (more on this later), Mion's beloved twin sister, and she has the capacity to emotionlessly stand by and watch, but absolutely so guilt ridden she unpromptedly proceeds to rip out her own fingernails after. Also she's the fucking queen of communicating which basically makes chances of her being hinamizawa syndromed zero cuz she's that much of a baddie

And fuck it let's talk about the Shinozaki's and Shion! How fucked up was it to make her rip out her own fingernails as basically punishment? That scene to me is by far the most terrifying in the entire series. There she is in her rightful home, surrounded by her very own family, her mother, sister, grandmother and not a single one of them lifts a finger to help her! She's being held down and forced to mutilate herself. The absolute agony and hopelessness of that scene makes it the most terrifying scene of the entire series in my eyes, but just because of that The real scary part is that these people don't hate her! Later her mother talks about how she also had to rip out ger fingernails and If i recall it's implied Oryou went through it too- this terrifying ordeal is suddenly framed as just something like a family tradition haha Not to mention when Shion can't fucking go on with it's too painful they hold her down and rip out the nails TOR her and even that is a twisted kind of kindness. Deadass most horrifying scene of the whole series imo

And fuckin Oryou, the elusive and evil mastermind behind the Shinozakis! Surely she has reasons to be sending white van assassins after Keiichi! Except not! Oryou is admittably a shady, conservative, hardass sort but she fucking loves Hinamizawa, it's only thanks to her and the Shinozakis developing the area that Keiichi and his parents even had a house to move into! She fought tooth and nail to prevent the area being flooded and now she continues to want the best for it. At the best of times she actually really is a pretty kindly grandmother figure who genuinely wants the best for her village, and it's such a jarring difference to what the games makes you think in the first arc!!

I could absolutely rant and rave more but I'm dizzy from looking at my phone so in conclusion this duality and realness is why I adore Higurashi. Hinamizawa is a small village full of caring, tight knit people who are willing to accept newcomers happily. On the other hand it's the same people who are willing to exclude a fucking child from loving community because of something her parents did (btw the absolute effect of the Dam war on the whole society of Hinamizawa is amazing i love it.. for the most part). And even so there's this feeling that they do care about her, but are too chicken shit to show it because it's not allowed, because there's a perceived peer pressure to exclude her. Oyashiro-sama really gave her hardest battles to her toughest soldiers (2 little girls).

And that duality shows in the series itself- it's a horror, it's bloody or downright gory and terrifying! There's systemic horror! And it's also a slice of life fucking comedy about the slow life in a tiny village full of caring people.

So in actual conclusion this time Higurashi, much like Hinamizawa, the people that live there AND the real world aren't defined by the their worst parts, because what really matters, what makes it all worth it are the silly board games with your best friends, going to the festival, eating good food in a spot with a nice view or rummaging through a trash pile for cool shit with your friend. And yeah the dark parts are still going to be there, but through the power of friendship, love, understanding, communication and kindness you can get through it.

im going insane thinking about Higurashi at work but don't have the time to write a rant post abt it rn ughhh

[ushittyoldman]

sweetheart like you

request.  hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song) 

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?” 

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably. 

“Holy shit.” 

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes. 

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes. 

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer. 

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.” 

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you. 

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend. 

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat. 

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing. 

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

[sweeteastart]

🌺Kh Oc Week 2022🌺

@khoc-week

- Day 3 - Sacrifice -

Like you might have understood, I use sporadically prompts from the alphabet and the basic list. I let inspiration hit me when it wants to.

I have to say, this prompt is rather angsty here but i’ll try my best to make it fun to read eheh :D

Bunny

For my first girly, i decided to redraw the player sacrifice at the end of khux with my sweet child Bunny. However, before she was send through the portal by Ephemer, Anis see through his sister lies. In a desperate act, he push her away and is the one that is send through the portal and locked with the darkness.

Bunny has a hard time accepting what happened. She feels guilty that she wasn't able to fool her twin and that he sacrificed himself for her in the end. Thankfully – even if she is left in the ruin of Daybreak Town – Ephemer is here for her.

This unfortunate situation really strengthen their bound. A bound that – after years of strong friendship – because a sincere love for each other.

Mikana

Mikana's drawing is a rather bleak one. Mikana sacrifice everything to save her older sister. Manipulation, lies, deceit and pain don't matter to her as long as long as she can save Sakore.

In her blind attempt at rewriting fate, she sacrifice her own heart and body. The darkness she uses daily to manipulate her friends and further her plans slowly takes over her. Inexorably drawing her closer to her own end. However, life is far more cruel than she anticipate.

There is no cure. No way of saving her sister. In fact, in the past she left, Sakore became a heartless in a matter of weeks after her disappearance. The revelation is like a punch is the guts. All her anguish and suffering were for nought. All along her goals were nothing more than a cloud of smoke. From the start she wasn’t the one manipulating but was manipulated.

But things gets even darker when an old acquaintance recognize her. Yen Sid unveil her tainted actions to her friends. Her betrayal unearthed, she had no chose but flee. Now, without any goal or friends to rely on, Mikana has to reevaluate her life and chose her next moves carefully.

Sika

Sika try to hide away in Twilight Town for a while after crashing there. The teenager can finally live the way she wants to. A life she choose along, without the overbearing judgement of her master. But soon, she hears of Orion actions through her new friends. Orion now completely indulge in darkness and helps Xigbar in his plans.

Back against the wall, Sika has to make a choice : try to stop Orion's rampage or live the free and happy life she always dreamed of. Even if they feel conflicted, the perspective of innocents peoples being hurt by her inaction push her to follow the first option. Using her keyblade again after a while, she saves Kairi in extremis during one of Orion's attack on Twilight Town.

Now playing the role of keyblade master along side Aqua and Riku, Sika takes part in the plans to stop Xigbar and his mysterious plans. But really, Sika has a goal slightly different from the rest. In fact, her and Orion's relationship wasn't only friendship. Guilt ridden and still in love with the girl, they promise themself to take her down no matter what.

And they do. Running out of options in the last battle against the redhead, Sika resign herself to end it at once and run her keybalde through the both of them. Orion is defeated but Sika's own heart is freed in the process.

Pêche

Like said in my last post, Pêche is the result of Daisy's and Poppy's reunification into one. However, this unification was forced by Xehanort in the slim hope it would result in the formation of X-Blade. It , in fact, didn't forge the desired weapon.

The two parts that had grew apart for the last decade were in a delicate place : As their heart tried to fit back together, chunks of it were broken off, cracked or destroyed. They were auto-destructing, both of their heart desperately trying to survive the horrifying ordeal. Poppy quickly caught on that if they both persisted, neither would survive.

In a last act of unconditional love, Poppy consciously stop fighting and let Daisy's ego take over her heart. She was aware this action would make her disappear but it didn't matter as long as the other was alive and well. Ultimately - like it never existed - Poppy's conscience was no more. Though completely heartbroken and anguished by her other part passing, Daisy became one.

One that had some of Poppy's memories and feelings but mostly Daisy. Foggy memories and a deep feel of nothingness was all that was left of the years they were two. All that was left was patchwork of two individuals experiences that now had to live on.

PFIIIIIIIOUUUUUUU And here is the third day of this week for me ! It was pretty lore and angst heavy ahah i hope it wasn't too confusing. English isn't my first language but i really like writing fics in this language. No idea if it's good but anyways i hope my traumatized keykids were to y'all liking !

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟒)

omg! this chapter is a bit shorter than most and it’s lowkey a filler kinda sorta i just wanted to show them hanging out together and show their lives 

next chapter is gonna be the same format but with a lil spice...

warnings: some smut, fluff an’ sweet domesticity :’)

word count: 6.1k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

     You screamed so loud that Steve poked his head out from the bathroom where he was brushing his teeth to check on you in the living room, where you were cooped up on the couch with your iPad, your eyes glued to the screen. 

     “You okay?” Steve asked through a mouthful of toothpaste, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

     He was pleasantly surprised when you turned to face him and you were positively beaming, baring your glistening teeth in a wide smile, your eyes glittering. 

      “I keep getting orders!” you exclaimed, referring to your all new clothing store brand that you had in the works earlier that summer. Recently, it had been taking off just how you wanted. 

     Steve discarded his toothbrush and bounded over to you, making you drop your iPad on the couch as he scooped you up effortlessly, hugging you tight. You squealed with happiness, wrapping your legs around Steve’s waist. He was such a serious guy, it was nice when he made such a grand, intimate gesture like this towards you. He smothered your face and cheeks with kisses, leaving the last smooch on your forehead. 

      “I’m so happy for you, doll,” he grinned, his eyes glimmering just like yours. 

The way Steve’s excitement matched yours just reminded you that he was rooting for you— he was on your side, which felt so rare for you. Steve was a rare treasure in your life, and you still couldn’t wrap your mind around how you’d found him. 

You giggled, giddy with excitement,

     “I’m so glad I have you to celebrate this with.”

     “Who would I be if I wasn’t your hype man?” Steve asked, looking directly into your eyes with a smile on his lips. 

     “Steve, you are literally my best friend,” you grinned, your heart swelling by how taken aback you were with how deeply he expressed his love. “Now time for me to call my other bestie.”

Steve grinned,

     “Does that mean I have to put you down?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, 

     “I mean, if you wanna give it away…”

     “Noted,” Steve rescinded, setting you down on the floor before him where you returned to your favorite place— right under Steve, with him hovering over you and keeping you safe. 

He kissed you sweetly on the lips before leaving you to call Aaliyah on the couch. 

     “Hey best friend,” she answered the phone with a trill.

     “Hi girlie,” you grinned, absolutely shining.

     “Ooh, someone’s in a good mood! What happened?!” Aaliyah straightened herself up in her bed, all ears. 

     “Your girl keeps making sales,” you glanced away from the camera as if it were no big deal to you, only to return with a big grin on your face.

     “Okay work!” Aaliyah practically screeched, jumping out of her bed. “Girl, you need to come back soon so we can get drunk drunk. Like, drunk. Just for you.”

     “I’ll be back, try not to miss me too much.”

     “You seem to be having the time of your life, though, girl. I’m honestly kinda surprised. But like, pleasantly surprised,” Aaliyah commented— if only she knew. 

She still thought you were spending your time in New York with family, she didn’t have a clue about Steve. You didn’t want to have to lie to her, but you knew it was the smart decision for now. Besides, it wasn’t like you were ridden with guilt— if anything, Aaliyah would understand your reasoning. 

     “I know, New York really is where dreams come true,” you noted sarcastically, earning a quiet chuckle from Steve in the kitchen. 

     “Okay, city girl. Just don’t forget where you came from,” Aaliyah smirked playfully. “For real though, I’m so proud of you.”

     “Thank you, my love. I  miss you.”

     “Me too, girl.”

     “So what have you been up to?”

     For a few hours, you and Aaliyah caught up over Facetime. She filled you in on what you’d been missing at home, and how summer and school was going for her, since she was trying to get into med school now. In truth, it wasn’t like there was much to catch up on, since it had only been a week since you’d been apart, you just loved each other that much. You had to hang up when you saw the time, since you had a date with Steve at the museum. You were glad that he seemed to be getting more comfortable taking you to the more public places, even if it meant you both had to be discreet. But that wasn’t hard, you were so comfortable with each other that you didn’t bother much with other people, and others didn’t bother too much with you. You were too preoccupied with each other to even notice much of anything else.

    You still didn’t understand how it wasn’t obvious that Steve was Captain America even when he was in his trusty disguise of glasses and a cap, considering how massive he was. You’d even noticed people staring in a mix of wonderment and desire when you were out with him, because he was quite the specimen. You never really got jealous, but you always found yourself gripping his hand tighter when that happened. Of course, he never paid other people much mind. 

    “You ready?” Steve asked, his back facing you as he heard you come out of the bedroom. 

    “Think so,” you chimed happily. 

     Steve turned around at the sound of your voice and immediately felt his heart drop to his stomach. He paused, unsure of what to even say. You were wearing a cream colored silk mini-dress, a gold plated necklace with earrings to match, along with heels. You were positively dazzling, even beyond your outfit— Steve truly thought you looked good all the time, but when you dressed up, you dressed up. 

     “Wow,” he breathed, truly at a loss for words, his eyes raking up and down your body. He was truly amazed by your presence— just being here made him feel like he was in the presence of a goddess. If you thought you were confused by how you’d won someone like him, you’d be knocked out by Steve’s disbelief. 

     You felt your cheeks grow warm at the way Steve was silently worshipping you. He looked so innocent, standing there wide-eyed in awe. It was almost as if he hadn’t seen every single part of you, as if you didn’t realize that his eyes were on you almost all the time— well, the latter was true. He never got tired of your beauty. You were truly timeless. But eventually, you laughed, shaking your head and stepping forward and taking his hands in your own. 

     “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” you joked with him, reaching in to kiss his lips. 

     “You look incredible. When don’t you?” he smiled, looking you up and down once again. He gestured to your neck, furrowing his brows. “Where’d you get that necklace?”

     “This one?” you looked down, then back up, shrugging. “Think I made it.”

     “Of course you did,” Steve shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Gorgeous and talented. How could I not guess that?”

     “You’re so corny, Steve,” you snorted, pressing your hand against his chest. “I love it.”

He smoothly maneuvered his arm around your waist so you were close to him, leading you out the door.

     “Shall we?” he pulled you close to him. 

      When you got to the museum, you both were glad to see that it wasn’t crowded, but not unnaturally empty. It almost felt like your circumstances were normal, and that felt nice and unique from your usual system. Steve never made it feel like the two of you had to be in hiding, but the illusion that the precautions weren’t so necessary here felt nice. Of course, it was only an illusion. 

       You were both always careful, but you were too enamoured by one another to let the issue of privacy stress you the way it did before. Steve’s previous anxiety surrounding keeping you both safe and secret had improved so much ever since you actually came around and lit up his life. He almost wished he had realized how much of a good thing this was sooner, then he would’ve had you right next to him ages ago. 

        The way Steve held your hand when you stepped out the car and all the way into the museum admittedly had you feeling incredibly special. He had you on his arm, but the way you were shining made it so clear that you were one of a kind, in a league of your own. You just happened to complement each other nicely, even perfectly. That was rare for even the closest of couples, so you were eternally grateful. You matched each other like chocolate and vanilla ice cream, explicitly sweet. You weren’t unaware of the eyes on the both of you as you strode through the museum— hell, together, the two of you looked like Greek gods, one beautiful inside and out, the other gracious, hulking, and strong. You might as well have been reincarnations of Aphrodite and Ares. 

     You had never been in this museum before, it was called MoMa, short for The Museum of Modern Art. Truthfully, you didn’t spend much time in museums back home. You were much more of an outdoors kind of gal, but you enjoyed being in this museum with Steve almost as much as you did day drinking at an outdoor cafe. The museum was undoubtedly fancy and sophisticated, making you feel right at home while you were all dressed up and always, always carrying yourself with poise. 

Steve felt lucky just to be standing beside you, and the two of you enjoyed your time together drifting through the museum, fixating on one work of art from the next, taking your time and staying close together. 

     “Isn’t that you?” Steve joked, pointing to a marble statue of a beautiful woman who actually did look a bit like you. 

     “You’re too charming,” you snickered, squeezing his side. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead, 

      “I know a work of art when I see it.”

You pushed your head up so you could reach his lips, pressing a kiss on his mouth, closing your eyes and shutting out the dim light of the museum for just a second, so you could get lost in him. When you opened your eyes, you and Steve made direct eye contact, gazing in each other’s eyes as if you were the only two in the room. Steve almost seemed to stand completely still, lost in the way your eyes glimmered like the water you spent so much time around back home. You knew you had him right where you wanted, and you gave his arm a squeeze as you bit down on your lip, hiding an impish smile. 

      “Come on,” you nodded towards the exit, gripping his hand and making your way towards the exit.

It was almost like you were lugging Steve behind you, the way he was following your lead like a helpless puppy. You had to fight the urge to cackle at how quickly he melted for you, just from a single kiss. Not only was he touch starved, but he was infatuated with you. That made matters even worse. Steve was a man with honorable impulse control, but when it came to you, looking so beautiful, kissing him so soft and sweet just how he liked, “control” was out of the picture. And now that you were leaving, it was clear what you were both getting yourselves into. 

You got into the car, eagerly settling into the backseat. Steve, on the other hand, rushed into the driver’s seat and was about to start the car when you asked,

      “What are you doing?”

Steve’s head nearly whipped back to look at you, and he furrowed his eyebrows. 

     “We’re gonna leave, right?” 

You just stared at him for a moment, judgment plastered on your face. You blinked,

     “It takes like thirty minutes to get home.”

Steve made a face, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion,

      “You don’t wanna go home?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips,

      “Can you just come to the back?”

He swiftly climbed into the back seat and you chuckled,

     “You’re so silly, old man.” 

     “‘S been a while,” he grunted. 

Your eyes flitted up and down his face, and then met his eyes. 

       “Need you. Now,” was all you said in a voice so quiet that it was like you were telling him a secret.

You made eye contact with Steve once more and he understood, Steve barely even had the chance to speak before you were scrambling on top of him, pressing your lips harshly against his and opening your mouth, Steve following your lead and doing the same, your tongues in each other’s mouths as you kissed. It was less like kissing and more like you were trying to compete to see how long you could hold your breaths, moaning repeatedly into each other’s mouths and only consuming oxygen through heavy pants. It was like you forgot you needed to operate normally, the way you were rubbing frantically against each other and abusing your limited backseat space. Your dress was jammed against your legs because you hadn’t pulled it up properly, and your knees were knocking against the inside of the car.

     “I wanna fuck,” you pulled away from his lips, only for him to pout at the lack of contact, resolving to kiss your neck instead, making your skin burn hot on the space where his lips were. You gasped from the unexpected feeling, Steve sucking at all the right spots on your body. He had you all figured out, from the first moment you got intimate with each other. But you didn’t get distracted from your main objective, pushing him away so you could focus, his chest heaving up and down below you. “Right now.”

Steve raised his brows. His face, already a flushed shade of pink from the abundance of physical proximity, darkened to a deep red. 

     “You… you want me here? Right-right now?”

     Your jaw clenched. Just by looking into your eyes, which had darkened like a stormy, grey sky, Steve could see just how serious you were. You were determined you were to get what you wanted, and who was he to get in the way of your needs? Of course, he wasn’t quite thinking logically, but there wasn’t enough room for logic when you were smothering him like this in the car, no matter how spacious it was. 

You nodded almost solemnly. You were like a cat in heat right now. If a switch had turned on in Steve earlier, then right now, a big red button was being pressed inside of you, only it meant “go.” 

     “Yes. Please don’t make me wait, daddy,” you purred, putting on your best angel face, and something stirred deep inside of Steve when you called him that, when you looked at him like that. 

His voice went soft and he nearly cooed at you,

     “‘M not gonna make you wait… it’s just…”

     “No one’s gonna see us,” you leaned in to kiss him again, and pulled away before he could deepen the kiss the way he wanted to, leaving him to pull desperately at your waist. “We’re parked far away from everyone else, see? And it-it’s dark!”

Steve smirked at your frenzied reply, consisting of one excuse after the other,

      “You really need this right now, hmm?”

      “Don’t get cocky. You need this more than I do,” you bit back snarkily, grinding against his very apparent erection, which throbbed against your center. You bit down on your lip, failing to conceal a devious smirk. “See?”

      “Yeah, I-I see,” Steve groaned, glancing down at where your bodies met in the middle, wishing you would take your dress off now. He regained his composure to ask you this one question. “Why so sudden?”

You growled, eager to get past the niceties of fucking,

      “Because. Now shut up so I can do my job.”

      “Oh wow,” Steve chuckled, raising his brows like he was impressed. “You’re very dedicated to-”

You weren’t kidding.

       “Stop talking,” you said, putting your hand over his mouth. 

      He looked up at you, all the amusement drained from his eyes, replaced by desire and awe. He felt inclined to listen to you, amazed by the new side of you that was coming out all of the sudden. It wasn’t like he always dominated you, and it was obvious that you had Steve wrapped around your finger. But this… this was different.

You kissed him furiously, grinding against him with expertise, making him arch his hips up just to meet you halfway, but you weren’t letting him give in to the pleasure fully yet. You didn’t have time to waste, and yet you had all the time in the world.

You let the tip of your tongue slide against his, then your tongue trailed against his open lips, making him let out a low pitched groan, his eyes half lidded at the soft but prominent sensation. You wanted to make this quick, but every part of you was savoring the moment. It had been a while since you’d done anything so thrilling in public, even if you were sure no one could see you. 

      Steve’s hand snaked its way up your dress, wasting no time. It took him a minute to catch on in the beginning, but now that he had, he was right where you needed him to be. He went to push your underwear to the side and the look on his face was priceless when he realized you weren’t wearing any. He was pleased that you were even more accessible, but at the same time he was shocked. He hadn’t been expecting it. 

      “You aren’t wearing anything under that?” he asked breathlessly, his fingers circling your clit immediately, the pad of another finger dipping into your slit with ease because you were already soaking. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

He started pumping a finger in and out of you, hitting a perfect spot and brushing up against your walls just right. You moaned and rode his fingers, hips thrusting up in the air as you threw your head back. 

     “Baby,” you panted after some time. “Take your pants off.”

You watched as he hurried to follow your commands, his pants and boxers pooling at his knees as he sat there with his dick erect against his stomach, both of you hot and restless. You practically lunged forward, grinding against him while he worked to unzip your dress, pulling it over your head. The whole event was a mess of clothes being flung everywhere, your bodies knocking into each other and the car seats. It was a blur, really, and you remember crying out when you first sunk onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking him smoothly, slowly, as he watched you with his mouth dropped in an o shape and his eyes glazed over. 

     “Fuck,” you whined, taking his length. It was one thing to be beneath him, it was another thing to be on top and be stretched out like never before. It was like a completely different feel and a completely different angle, and still perfect nonetheless. “You feel so good baby, look at me.”

     You forced Steve to look up at you, perking his chin up with your finger. He was shuddering, his thighs shaking each time you sunk down onto him. You were practically riding him into submission, and the thought made you smirk. 

      “You like this?” you cooed. “You like when I ride you?”

He nodded quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. 

     “Say it,” you demanded, inching your hand up his chest and settling your palm around his throat. 

His hips bucked up inadvertently, and he groaned,

     “Y-yes baby, I could fuck you like this forever.”

     “Yeah, I bet you could,” you crooned, letting your finger trail along his face, your nail tickling his cheek. 

     As you got used to taking him, you began to ride him like a pro, the movement of your hips syncing with his effortlessly, bouncing up and down and grinding on him all at once. No matter what you did, the feeling was unbeatable for the both of you, and you couldn’t get enough. On top of that, you had clearly taken charge tonight. Steve was enamoured by you, goddess that you were, and he wanted you on top a lot more now.

     Granted, it was the first time, but he only wished it could’ve happened sooner, because then he could cherish this feeling earlier. You took the lead with such ease, because you knew what you were doing and that was clear. Your sex appeal radiated off of you without you even having to try, and your confidence was just the cherry on top. Steve could tell you were enjoying yourself, shamelessly eating up his submission. You were being greedy, reckless. He wanted more and more. 

      Your movements were graceful and easy, your back arched to get that crucial spot for the two of you, arms wrapped lazily around his neck as you rode him like the perfect wave. He obeyed immediately when you told him to keep his previously wandering hands on your waist, watching in amazement as you led him, the captain. 

     You lowered your head down to his, pressing your forehead against his as you began to moan, and he could tell you were about to come by the way you squeezed around him. When you did, it was like an explosion. You nearly screamed into his ear, but instead bit down on his neck, leaving a bite that was sure to bruise. You kept riding him while you were coming, anyway, telling him to come with you and triggering his own orgasm, letting him fill you up with his cum. For a while, the two of you just sat there, Steve still inside of you, his head knocking against your chest, while you wrapped your arms around him. 

❊

     “I’m putting a looot of trust into you right now, you know that?” you pulled your shirt off, stretching your arms up above your head. 

Steve laughed, shaking his head,

     “No pressure.”

     “I’m absolutely joking,” you leaned forward to give him a kiss while cupping his face, lingering at his lips for a few seconds with a soft smile before you pulled away. “I know it’ll turn out amazing. But I can’t stay still for too long.”

     “It won’t take more than an hour, I promise,” Steve put his pinky out in front of him and you rolled your eyes before interlacing your pinky with his. 

     “As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind.”

     “Okay. Your bra is real pretty, but that has to go, too,” Steve said, gesturing to your pink lace bra.

      “Can you take it off me, please?” you smiled innocently, but Steve just stared you down. 

     “If I do that, you’re gonna try to distract me,” he stood his ground, and you chortled, cupping his face in your hands as you leaned forward, 

     “Steve, I would never. I understand the importance of the artist’s process. Here, I’ll even turn around.”

You turned so your back was facing Steve, your shoulders relaxing when you felt his big hands brushing against your skin, undoing your bra. You felt his bare hands roam up the expanse of your back and rolled your shoulders back into the all encompassing touch. 

     “Just trying to understand my canvas,” Steve muttered, his broad hands cupping your shoulders like he was giving you a massage. 

You sighed, rolling back your neck until you could see a glimpse of him, a slight smile on your face. You crossed your arms over your chest to cover your breasts, making an X shape with your arms. 

     “I’m sure,” you replied, and he lurched forward to plant a kiss on your lips before leaning back, gesturing for you to lie down. 

     You lay down on your front side, your back fully exposed to Steve. Rays of light splashed against your back and shone in Steve’s softened face. You could hear him cleaning his paintbrushes in the mason jar of water that was balancing on the bed sheets, the brush clanking against the rim of the jar and the water sloshing around with the bristles. Your days with Steve were growing more and more intimate as the time passed on. 

     Steve had finally given in to your pleas that he draw more, but he took it a step further and decided he would paint instead, using you as a canvas. Steve caught on fast, and you loved that about him. Whatever you wanted to do, he was down, and he would go that extra mile because he wanted to, not because he didn’t feel like he had an option. 

     You tapped your feet against the bed sheets to the rhythm of the Jhene Aiko song playing in the background, and grinned to yourself when you heard Steve humming along. You put him onto so much that he didn’t even realize the things he was picking up from you along the way. 

     “Alright,” Steve grinned in satisfaction, dipping his brush into the selection of paints on his easel. “You ready?”

You gave him a thumbs up, giddy with excitement. Steve had to gently touch your ankles to remind you to stop shaking, and you uttered a giggly apology while he shook his head playfully. 

     “Never had such a difficult canvas,” Steve straddled the back of your legs as you lay still below him. 

     “Shut up,” you chuckled, cutting yourself off with a gasp when you felt the cool paint against your back. “Shit, that’s cold as fuck!”

     “Language,” Steve smirked, and you barked a bitter laugh. 

     “This is coming from the man who was describing the ways he wanted to deflower my body in obscene depth this morning,” you clapped back at him, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to recede with a resigning sigh. Noting his silence, you simpered. “I win.”

     “Just remember I am the one with total control over your body right now. One misstroke and this painting goes from Mona Lisa quality to absolute shit,” Steve reminded you, waving a finger in the air. 

      “Mona Lisa? Someone thinks real highly of themselves,” you poked fun at him as he continued to layer paint on your back to create a light blue base. “Besides, paint washes off.”

      “I’ll lock you out of the bathroom,” Steve sniggered, much too pleased with himself for your liking. You swatted at him with a reprimanding hand and he dodged it. “Alright, alright. I won’t mess it up on purpose, I promise.”

     “You better not,” you murmured, already sinking into sleep. You couldn’t help it. You were tired from being worn out this morning, because Steve did do everything to your body that he said he would do, namely fucking the daylights out of you. And, Steve painting on your back was oddly therapeutic in a way, and the brush against your back felt like feathers from a pillow, lulling you to sleep. So, you fell asleep as the sound of the music playing faded away. 

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s deep voice in your ear, telling you to wake up so he could take pictures of you. 

      Your eyes trickled open slowly and you looked up at Steve who was laying on his side next to you, positively beaming. You smiled sleepily, the fog from your sleep starting to clear from the light Steve was emanating. His face was so close up, you couldn’t help but brush your nose against his and give him a butterfly kiss before kissing his nose with your lips. 

     “I finished,” Steve grinned in celebration, and in that moment you were sure you’d never seen him look so happy, except for when you stepped off the private jet and into his life. 

     “Baby,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and got up gingerly, so as not to mess up the masterpiece that was still drying on your back. “Lemme see.”

      Steve got up quickly and dragged the full body mirror towards you, standing behind it and holding it up, a proud smile glued to his face. You couldn’t help but giggle at how satisfied he looked with the results, and your heart swelled to see him so happy and actually doing some personal hobbies outside of work. You were glad you were with him, and you were glad that meant he got a break from the hustle of his everyday life. This break wouldn’t last forever, but at least he was getting one. He didn’t often do things that he actually liked to do, he was so worked up. When he was with you, he was free to do whatever, and you actually pushed him to do the things he enjoyed. 

      You turned so your back faced the mirror, and craned your neck to see the work of art. It was a divine myriad of colors on your glowing skin, a light blue sky as the base, a painting of the sun and moon on top. The moon and sun each had eyes, a nose, and a mouth, and the moon was hugging the sun, covering its right eye. He had drawn swirly clouds and glinting stars all around to truly bedazzle the piece. You couldn’t stop smiling, it was truly beautiful and probably the most intimate thing you’d ever done with someone. 

      “Steve, you’re literally amazing at this. I’m serious,” you prodded him when he shook his head in embarrassment. “I mean look, you know it’s amazing, you’re so proud of yourself! And you should be.”

You scrambled over to him, tugging at the camera that was hanging by a strap around his neck,

     “C’mon. Take pictures of it!”

     “Yeah, just—” Steve cocked his head to the side, trailing off, and you realized immediately that he was distracted by your bare upper torso. 

You shook your head, laughing to yourself, and stood up on your knees to pose for him. 

      “You can take some just for yourself, too,” you winked. 

❊

       You woke up to the feeling of Steve stroking your face with his thumb and kissing the top of your head ever so gently, the room dark except for the fuzzy light blue glare of the TV screen a few feet away. You snuggled into his chest, already laid up on top of him, both your bodies stretched out on the cozy couch. 

      You sighed sleepily and blinked up at him. He was fixated on the TV, halfway through the first Deathly Hallows movie. You’d fallen asleep somewhere towards the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so you were quite pleasantly surprised that Steve let you lay on him for so long, and that he continued watching the movies. His blue eyes were unmoving, glued to the screen and thoroughly engaged in the story. You smiled below him and poked his chest, making him glance down at you with an unassuming “hmm?” sound. 

      “How long have I been asleep?”

      “A long time,” Steve smooched your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips, suffocating you with his kisses. “How are you feeling?”

     “Not as sleepy. We stayed up way too late last night,” you reminded him, and he shrugged. 

      “At least I’m almost finished,” he said, referring to the Harry Potter movies that you had stayed up late last night to continue. 

     “We gotta figure out your Hogwarts house,” you squinted up at him, making the calculations in your head. “I think you’re a Gryffindor. I am too.”

     “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff… it’s all the same, isn’t it?” Steve sighed, and you gasped, sitting up on his lap and looking at him, appalled,

      “Steve! Have you learned nothing from the past seven movies?”

He cackled, shaking his head,

      “I’m kidding. I think so too, doll.”

You pushed his chest with a dramatic pout, 

      “Nevermind, asshole, you’re definitely a Slytherin.”

      “Hey, I don’t wanna be a bad guy!”

      “Boo fucking hoo,” you droned. “You get to be a hero all the goddamn time, take your Slytherin house placement and go. Also, you clearly haven’t been paying attention! Not all Slytherins are bad.”

      “I’ll take being an Avenger over being a Slytherin any day,” Steve noted casually, and you couldn’t help but grin at the side note. You positioned yourself on his lap so you were straddling him and he put his hands around your waist almost reflexively. 

      “Yeah?”

      “Of course,” Steve insisted. “My job is tough but, someone’s gotta do it.”

     “You ever wish you weren’t like this? I mean… if you’d known things would turn out the way they did…”

You bit your lip in anticipation as you waited for Steve’s answer, because he was taking a while to think about it. You hoped you weren’t pushing a boundary here by asking this question, but Steve knew you had good intentions, and you knew him long enough to know that he wouldn’t be afraid to answer you.

     He finally found it in him to give you a cohesive answer. He truly had to think, because it wasn’t a feeling he could quite put into words. People thought Steve was this stonelike, serious guy, but he was mainly just pensive. He was still the same Steve he’d always been, even before the serum, even before he became a figure of fame. Now, people just happened to take him a whole lot more seriously. People admired him. But all the while, he was still grieving, still trying to figure out his footing in this world. Now that he was with you, the process was going along much smoother. 

He clasped your hands, bringing your interlaced fingers to his lips,

     “I’ve been through a lot. And it’s hard for me to face things head on sometimes, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I have to admit, though, it really has been nice just… being unseen. Just for a few days, being unknown by the world. Under the radar, I guess. I get to just be Steve, not Captain. And don’t get me wrong, I’d never complain about my responsibilities. I’m just a private person. I’m not in this for the fame and the attention. That’s the only thing I’d ever change. I just want to do what’s right. I don’t need the praise.”

     You nodded, completely understanding. Whenever you and Steve had these deep conversations, you were glad, because you really both listened to each other. You said exactly what was on your minds without fearing judgment. You had kind of expected that to be Steve’s answer, the way he cherished his privacy and didn’t seem to care much for the frills attached to his honorable job. 

     Notoriety wasn’t Steve’s goal, in fact he figured he’d be better off without it. He was grateful for his work, but he didn’t need the fans and worship that came with it. You could honestly never grow tired of Steve talking about himself— his past, his present, his job, his fears. He hardly talked about himself anyway, he was always engulfed in one thing or another. You liked pulling things out of him, not because you wanted to be intrusive, but because you knew it’d be good for him. Besides, how would you get along if you didn’t truly know each other?

As he spoke, you nodded, taking in each and every word. You let your fingernails lightly scratch his face, trailing along his perfect superhuman skin, lulling him without even realizing it. 

     “I get that. You could be Steve Rogers and just save lives, and live just how you want to.”

     “Yeah,” Steve smiled, gazing up into your eyes, the movie long forgotten in the background. He placed his hands on your hips as if to keep you in place where you were, locking you in like you belonged here and here only. “What about you? Would you change anything?”

      You cocked your head with a small smile. You hadn’t been expecting him to ask about you, and it honestly wasn’t something you thought of quite a lot. Maybe if you were still hurting, you’d say yes. But, because your whole life had brought you to this point, here with him and happy with yourself, you couldn’t. 

You shook your head, biting down on your lip, your smile expanding,

     “No. I wouldn’t. I’m actually kind of content now. Healing’s a long process, but it’s worth it. And I’m with you, so it’s all worth it.”

Steve’s eyes glimmered when you said that, and his fingers dung deeper into your hips.

        “Think this is probably the happiest I’ve ever been,” Steve said, and god, he didn’t know how much that meant to you.

tags later!

[jacklynnfrost]

The Eighth Avenue Express (Part 2)

Fanfic by Jacklynnfrost for Smutember 2019. It’s Tuesday, here is the next part of the Train Fic. Again, shout out to my friends for being spectacular.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Elizabeth fumes at her desk. Her pencil taps over and over on the ring stains of the faux wood, which has bubbled and warped from her uninsulated cups of water. Diane volunteered to do the coffee run this morning, casually. Deep down she knows the sweet girl was just trying to give her a break but Elizabeth could not restrain the glare she so heartily delivered.

She had sums to finalize and calls to make but the entire hour that Diane is gone she gets nothing done. She snaps at the delivery boy when he asks for a signature and although she has the decency to flush and apologize, the act weighs on her with her other worries. The young woman restarts her old habit of biting her nails and does not stop until the brown-haired beauty of a fellow intern returns with the two stacks of coffees.

When Diane steps back into their cramped, shared office Elizabeth spins in her chair. “How’d it go?” She inquires and the pretty girl, taller than Elizabeth, straightens to be even taller as if a bit alarmed by the question. Diane squirms, her sparkling eyes meet Elizabeth’s blue ones with ill-concealed guilt. Her friend is not a good liar, cannot hide even minor infractions and Elizabeth’s shoulders sag before turning back to her computer with stinging eyes.

Maybe her beautiful stranger molests all the girls in the subway. Diane hadn’t answered, the other two interns don’t even remove their headphones as they clack away at their keyboards but Elizabeth notes her lack of response. She muses over it for the rest of the day and the next morning. While getting ready for work, she decides to wear another skirt with a wrap shirt held together with one knot at her hip for easy access. When she arrives at work and retakes her seats, arranging her purse and things she balks at Diane as she enters.

She wore a loose skirt today too.

Elizabeth’s heart clenches, her eyes dropping downcast as she decides she won’t be playing with her stranger any more if she’s one of many. He is the exception to the rule for her but if he is a serial groper, with thousands of women under his belt, she doesn’t want to partake. Another shock comes when the pleated skirt that just walked in finds the edge of her desk and Diane sighs as she leans in a partial sit against it.

“Can I talk to you?” She asks, shy and extremely low. “I was wondering if I can take the coffee runs?” Elizabeth’s weary eyes rise to find Diane’s sheepish expression, her lips tipped down in a frown. “There’s this man I met and-”

“Just take him.” Elizabeth resigns, pinkening and partially scowling. “I mean them, the trips to Twigo’s,” she amends with a sigh and softer tone. Diane giggles, girly, her face transforming to model level stunning in her joy when she’s always been beautiful. Elizabeth can see at that moment why anyone would single Diane out in a crowd.

The days wear on and Elizabeth’s ire fades as her logic finds holes in her self-doubts. The subway is packed, what are the chances those two found one another? Her critical thinking skills only improve as Diane’s clothing choices each day give her pause. A floral pants suit is only accessible if you unbutton and drop the entire thing. It’s absolutely adorable on her but not something one would wear for easy public access.

Three days pass before Elizabeth approaches Diane’s desk before the coffee run and she waits for her to finish her call while pushing back her cuticles. Diane’s decorations around her area are all chibi, with adorable little stickers and posters in her corner of their office wall. If only Griamore and Howzer, the other two interns, were half this interesting. “Hey Elizabeth, what’s up?” She cheerily says as the light on her phone console dies and she lowers her headset. Elizabeth takes a deep breath, not ready to begin even with the brief waiting time she had.

“I’m sorry I was so grouchy the other day.” The silver-haired woman starts, fiddling with those same pale locks as her blue eyes flash to Diane’s. Her friend waves the apology away with a gentle, relaxed expression. “You see, there is this man I met getting the coffee and... I thought maybe when you said you met a man too, I guess, I got a little insecure.”

“Woah!” Diane starts, hands raising up. “You think anyone would even notice me if you are in their lives? I don’t think so.” The surety in Diane’s voice is so solid Elizabeth’s mouth pops open with a smack.

“Are you kidding! You are a model- only way better!” Elizabeth retorts, dismissing the idea of being anywhere near the level of beauty that Diane is. “Your personality is like sunshine emboldened!” This makes Diane giggle, her hand covering her lips as her other waves her words away in the air again.

“Well, if you are in pursuit too, then we can alternate coffee runs.” Diane looks down at herself, her dress giving her curves an extra emphasis and Elizabeth laughs. “As long as you aren’t after Harlequin too?” For a moment the two stare as Elizabeth’s eyes widen, her hand coming up to scratch at her head in confused embarrassment and Diane releases a sigh of relief. “Phew! You don’t even know who my man is! You can do tomorrow’s run, that way I can tell him today- maybe have an excuse to swap numbers, ya know?”

The two part ways soon after as their boss returns from lunch and they act busier with her head popping in with narrowed eyes. Tomorrow then, now all Elizabeth has to hope for is that her stranger keeps going to work early... and that his name isn’t Harlequin.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Her dress is low cut, she took her undershirt off to shove in her purse before she left her building and the airy material flows around her thighs loosely. She swears to herself that she will make sure he isn’t a criminal groper before exploring this any further but her outfit decision makes her exasperated at herself. ‘Have some decency, Elizabeth!’ She scolds to herself internally but that same thrill from her core travels up her spine as the screeching of the subway fills the underground waystation.

She’s ridden the subway so many times and has never had these urges. Elizabeth considers that the man is the main reason for her overreactions. Impatiently, she dips around the others waiting and when the doors open to their car she’s gnawing at the bit as people rush out. At the first opportunity, she wiggles inside and all but bounds to the center pole, skipping the open seats on the way. Her heart drops and a tiny pout forms as her steps slow in disappointment. ‘I wouldn’t keep showing up if I were him, either.’ She thinks, assessing how wishy-washy she had been and how she told him a day then didn’t show up. If she had been him, Elizabeth would have assumed she was being blown off.

Out of habit she grips the pole, her eyes dropping to the tips of her shoes and she nibbles at her bottom lip wondering if she will forget about him. Elizabeth has a sinking feeling she won’t be able to, that she will always wonder. A hand grabs for her free one and instinctively she pulls her wrist to her chest, turning to the hooded figure in polite wariness.

“Oh!” She exhales, her protective stance eases and the hand she pulled away finds his, still extended toward her. “I thought... I’m sorry.” Elizabeth whispers, finding every excuse that comes to mind silly but his fingers interlace with hers and he steps toward the train car’s corner. There are two open seats beside the wall and he guides her to take the one in the corner where it’s more shielded. He sits beside her but angling so his shoulders block her from most of the other passengers. He’s closing her in and she looks him over.

He’s handsome and in a dark hoodie that’s looped over his chaotic hair with loose sweatpants. A plastic bag leaves his grip to rest behind him on his seat and her purse joins the grocery bag. Her beautiful stranger smirks, eyeing over her ample cleavage and over her loose dress cinched with a ribbon around her waist. “You wore this for me.” He notes and she doesn’t have to confirm as her face gives him the answer. Her pink flush even spreads across the creamy skin of her breasts that his eyes can’t seem to look from.

His right leg steps wide to overtake hers, currently crossed at her ankles. The doors hiss closed and her thumb rubs across his knuckles remembering with warmth pooling in her tummy that he worked her over with this hand. She flips his palm up on her bare thigh as her dress rides up, her other hand playing over the calluses of his palm and fingertips. Elizabeth can tell he has worked them hard in his life. With a little smirk, she reaches and finds the zipper of his hoodie over his chest, pulling it down for the two halves to separate. The back of her fingers feel over the contours of his torso until she reaches the end of his hoodie.

With a small tug, she opens the side of it wide to block anyone's view and she releases his palm as her other hand unashamedly dips into the loose band of his sweatpants. “And you wore this for me.” Elizabeth smiles tenderly as he adjusts his seat to give her better access to stroke him. He’s hot in her hand, as hard as she remembers him being last time and she leans to give him a better view down her shirt with his hoodie giving them a small wall to block them in.

He chuckles, his palm leaves her thigh, her stroking firm as his fingertips trace the swelling outline of her breasts. Her breathing turns harsher as her blue eyes find his questioning green ones. Her smile gives him all the permission he needs, his hand dives down her dress, disheveling the fabric. He groans, long and low at the first brush of his skin over her taut nipple. In her grip his cock throbs. She smirks, knowing instantly he is a boob man and she is glad for it as she has plenty of pillowy flesh for him.

“I wish you could taste them,” Elizabeth whispers hotly, dipping forward for a longer stroke over his hardness, her grip on his hoodie tightening. “I wish I could taste you.” She breathes, her lips finding his eyebrow. His arm loops out of his hoodie, leaving his sleeve empty and dangling as he opens the top of her dress to free her ample chest. This makes her hike up the hoodie wall as she doesn’t want anyone else to see.

He gasps, his lips parting for his tongue to wet them. “I wish that too.” He throatily replies. His hips move in miniscule thrusts to help her rhythm from the limited range she had with how they are sitting. With a flush, she raises her leg and she wiggles closer, pausing in her strokes to slip it to the other side of his hip with a twist of her body to face him. Her other leg loops up over his thigh and he stops his fondling by righting her dress enough to help her, lifting her waist. She shifts forward, almost straddling him but she stops when her core hits the head of his hard dick, his leg stretches under her until it rests under her thigh against the back of their seats.

She restarts her pumping of his dick to meet her tandem core rotations, the softness of her fabric-covered mons pressing into his cock has him gasping. His nose dips under her chin, his lips leave a trail of kisses and hot tingles as his palms find her chest once more. “Have I told you yet how perfect you are.” He mutters against her flesh, her spine lengthening to press his dick to just the right spot. Jolts of clenching excitement spread from their contact and it causes Elizabeth to lose some of her senses. Her strokes become frantic, her foot curves around his back to help push him against her and any outsider that looks over will know they are fooling around. The extent is of it indiscernible.

“Fuck, Elizabeth.” He mutters, losing his own will in the frenzy as his head dips, his tongue lapping at her flesh and reaching across her collar bone. She gasps almost silently, her breathy noise spurring him on and she tastes like heaven, her sounds are a symphony of pleasure to him. The barest hints of her skin on his drive him to the farthest extremes of his feelings and he cannot find a single comparison that comes remotely close. She’s experiencing a similar reaction, her brain is flooding with endorphins as she believes she will break apart with this desperate building inside of her.

Her face buries into his hair to hide, her chest heaving as her hips and hand do the work. She hasn’t dry-humped anyone since sophomore year and she knows it wasn’t like this in the slightest. She wants him to cum, to taste his seed from her fingers as he did with her orgasm last time. Elizabeth has been thinking about it near incessantly. His hot breath on her neck drives her wild and she wishes they were alone, behind closed doors as there are so many things she wants to do to him.

She’s juicy, her core is dripping and with the dress, it would be so easy to push aside her panties and pull him free to rub them bare together. “I want you,” Elizabeth whispers. “I want you throbbing inside me, to taste you on the tip of my tongue and to ride you until I can’t feel my legs.” It’s true, but the man thinks it’s dirty talk and does not take her seriously. Instead, he presses harder against her core, casing a soft mewling sound to escape her. He rises, his lips capturing hers with a demanding, forceful entrance into her soft, giving mouth. His chest gives a low rumble and his throat groaning is the only hint she has that he’s about to cum before he’s spurting in his pants against her.

She swallows his sounds as he breathes them into her, her own orgasm sparking from the feel of him coming apart. Elizabeth doesn’t ease her rhythm, she wants to prolong his pleasure but as her own wave of bliss hits her, she drowns in it, losing function of her limbs as she’s reduced to sagging, unresponsive twitching muscles. He holds her up as her head falls to his shoulder and at the last second, he catches his hoodie before it cascades and gives their subway car neighbors a view of what they were really up to. His other arm curves around her back and for a moment as they catch their breaths, he holds her adoringly.

He flinches as her fingers in his pants fondle over him. He is sensitive, and, although he usually needs a few moments to rebound, her little motion has him hardening again. He inhales her, mouth parting to take in more of her scent as he knows he’s lost his mind. That thought becomes fact as she leans away, shyly showing him his own seed on her fingertips before she smears his orgasm on her lower lip and her bubblegum pink tongue pokes out for a taste. Elizabeth licks it clean, watching her stranger become mystified, pupils blowing wide until only a thin band of green circles it.

In his shock, she detangles herself from him, tapping her shoes to the floor and righting her dress to sit between his legs which are still embracing her. Elizabeth flushes, prettily in his opinion, and folds her hands in her lap. They were quicker today as the train car is still going strong. Reality returns to her first, her teeth nipping at the skin of her bottom lip as she side-eyes him. “Your name isn’t... Harlequin, is it?” She puzzles softly.

Confusion colors his face and her shoulders sag in relief. “No.” He breathes his answer, the hoodie fabric drops as he shoves his arm through the sleeve hole once more. “It’s nice to know you’ve been curious about me though?” He winces his words, his tone making it a question. She shifts, expecting him to detangle from his assumedly uncomfortable position, but rather than right his leg from behind her he leans in, his arms tentatively wrap around her waist as if asking permission. “I was starting to worry you weren’t interested in me outside of here.”

Elizabeth looks down to her hands in her lap, the wet spot on his sweats a clear outline that makes her smirk to herself. She is interested but the only topic of conversation she really wants to have circles around her own needs of reassurance. He’s warm and Elizabeth finds herself leaning just slightly for her shoulder to rest on his, still facing her. She feels strange touching him in this way, but his arms around her are comforting. ‘You’ll stroke him off in front of all these people but you can’t show him any affection or interest?’ She scolds herself into wiggling down to lay her head in the nook of his neck. Elizabeth brushes the tip of her nose along his Adam’s apple and with her ear on his shoulder she can hear the soft rumbling in his throat from the motion. Her heart races from their embrace.

He moves the sides of his hoodie to wrap her up and the two stay snuggled up until, not a moment later, the train car starts to slow. She pulls away, her eyes soft and resigned as she faces him with a teeny pout. His rough fingers brush her hair behind her ear and he smiles to her as if she’s important to him. “When will I see you again?” He ponders aloud, sounding every bit as vulnerable as he feels.

“I alternate days now, so I think next week, Monday?” She isn’t sure and it sounds like it as it squeaks past her trembling lips. He notices. His eyes follow the subtle dip in her bottom lip before they part, a rush of breath escaping her and this time, he closes the gap between them to steal a delicate kiss. Her beautiful stranger is bashful as he pulls away, releasing her to reach and pick up the stuffed grocery bag. She gathers her own bag as the tingles on her lips spread, her heart keeping pace as if trying to beat the subway to their stop.

“Are you a criminal?” She blurts, alarmed at herself for her delivery and her mortification only grows as his eyebrow quirks. “I mean...” Elizabeth vague gestures around the train car and then to herself. If anything his eyebrow simply raises up another centimeter, a smirk spreading slowly over his face.

“Like... if I’ve groped a thousand perfect breasts?” He answers, eyes sparkling as they drop to peek down her dress once more. Some of the humor on his face fades, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. Then he continues, looking up at her under his lashes, “Or if I’ve stolen a thousand girls’ panties?” Again, her face burns and she guesses correctly that he’s trying to make her react this way.

“You’re joking,” Elizabeth whispers, unsure but hopeful from his tone that he’s simply toying with her. “Of course.” He breathes, his joy fades with the slowing of the subway and vanishes completely when it rocks to a stop. She stands and he follows right after her, wincing as he stretches out his leg and rezips his hoodie to hide the cum stain on the front of his pants. Her eyes dash to the door as the light changes but flash back to him as he holds out the plastic bag. “I got you something.” He quietly directs, nudging his head to the offering when she doesn’t take it.

Slowly, she accepts it, her fingers grazing over his with a lingering touch. His eyelids drop to half-mast at the contact. Elizabeth has a hard time stepping away but the second's tick by so quickly. “I have to go.” She whispers. His nod is slow, silently accepting whatever she’ll allow him to have of her. Their time is stretching thin and in the last seconds they have together, she weaves her free hand through his hair to feel the locks slip through her fingers like silk.

As is their usual, she exits the train car at the last second and turns on the platform to stare at him through the curved window. He waves and a little smile tugs at her lips as she wiggles her fingers back. The train car pulls away, his resigned expression engraved in her mind as she makes her way to Twigo’s. In line she opens his gift, the bag crinkling in her gip. Bright red greets her and she puzzles over it until she pulls it free and it unfolds before her. In a confused blink, she stares at the coat. It reminds her of Carmen Sandiago’s outfit only longer and a laugh burst forth followed instantly by a heavy flush that matches the color of her new coat.

The possibilities are endless with a coat like this.

[superninjaviolinist]

The Girl With the Black Dragon Tattoo, Chapter One

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by other people that aren’t me.

SPOILER WARNING : This fic begins at the beginning of Season Five and will contain spoilers for all subsequent seasons.

CAUTION: The following is rated DSLV. It will contain strong language, sexual situations, and violence. Eyeball to device discretion is advised.

My name is Evangeline Chung, thirty-five years old. Long black hair, 5’6”, athletic (but not bulky)…

Currently collared and chained to the Throne of Hell like some kind of dog.

The situation sounds terrible, I know, but it could be worse. I mean, the deposed King is on the other side, similarly bound, being treated as if he were a dog, right down to the “Heel! Sit! Lick the floor!” commands. All I’ve gotten so far are gentle strokes to my hair and face, reminders from Lucifer of why I’d submitted to being bound. See, contrary to popular belief the Devil isn’t a demon; he’s an archangel. It means whatever body he inhabits on Earth must belong to a willing participant; those are the rules for heavenly denizens (by contrast, demons can swoop down the throat of whomever, or whatever, they want). They call them their vessels or, more crudely, their meatsuits.

His current vessel is the man, no, the angel who fell in love with me, and I fell in love with in return.

Castiel owed me a big fucking explanation for why this had gone down. There had to have been other options, something that would have prevented this scenario where Lucifer was keeping his little brother’s vessel hostage against my and the Winchesters’ good behavior.

Ah, Sam and Dean Winchester. If it weren’t for them I would have never been anywhere close to this mess. I mean, sure, I would have probably ended up a drained corpse in the middle of a vampire nest, but that’s neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is this: the warm, oh so familiar hand of Castiel is resting on my cheek, and if I don’t submit to Lucifer’s every demand I get to watch my lover and my friends die slow.

This is so fucked up. And it all started with a chance encounter six years ago in Garber, Oklahoma.

I made it into Garber at the same time as the men I had so lovingly dubbed the Douchebag Trio: Steve Bose, Reggie Hull, and Tim Janklow. We had history. At that point in my life I was unabashedly promiscuous. I know now that it was a product of the trauma I’d experienced, but at the time I’d convinced myself that it was my body and I was going to do whatever the fuck I wanted with it.

The four of us used to have a pleasant working relationship, but after I’d begun sleeping with Reggie I discovered that the man wanted more than just sex. When I blew him off the other two turned Mean Girls on me and suddenly we were no longer friends. I swear to God, men can give teenage girls a run for their money in the bitchiness category.

If I’d known Bobby had called these guys I’d’ve shrugged off the request. Well, maybe not. I might have loathed these assholes, but a) no one deserves the kind of brutal end demons were apt to give, and b) I owed Bobby Singer my life. Kind of made me obligated to fulfill any and all of his requests.

The four of us ended up squaring off in front of one of the local dives, Hoyt’s Bar, where Bobby had said the informant was working. “Run along, girly,” came Tim’s opening salvo. “Don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

“Go to hell.”

He and his cronies exchanged amused smirks. “Aw, she wants to play with the big boys.”

“Maybe we should let her play,” Steve suggested. “And when we’re done, she can kiss all our boo-boos better.”

Tim and Steve guffawed while Reggie and I got busy glaring at each other. “C’mon,” he said finally, “leave the slut alone and let’s go.” As I followed them in, I considered how funny they’d look headless.

Hoyt’s Bar was almost cliche in appearance. Wooden tables and walls, sports on the television, darts, pool, and alcohol. The Douchebag Trio was settling down at a table where a tall, well-built, shaggy-haired young man was joining them. I sat nearby and flagged the blonde waitress for a beer.

“Bobby called,” Tim said.

“And?” asked the stranger.

“You were right. Major demon block party going on.”

That was the first time I laid eyes on brooding, empathic, guilt-ridden Sam Winchester. Bobby had outlined the man’s fucked up situation. Sort of. Something about Sam and his brother separating. Made me wonder about what happened. I mean Josie, my sister, and I didn’t talk because… well, there were plenty of reasons, first and foremost being that she spent most of her time either drunk or high. Her normal state of mind didn’t make for very stimulating conversation.

I was too busy brooding over my family and finishing my beer to notice that the other table was looking at me. Reggie cleared his throat. “What?” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “I said: you coming with us?”

“Who’s this?” Sam asked.

“Eva Chung,” Tim answered for me. “Thinks she’s a hunter.”

“Yeah?” I threw back. “I bet you think you don’t have a micro-peen. We all have our delusions.”

The three I knew bristled, but I saw Sam lift his hand up to hide a smile. It made me warm up to him. A little. “I’ll come,” I told Reggie.

We all stood. “Good luck,” Sam said quietly.

“Beers are on you when we get back,” Tim said amiably.

“Yeah, you bet,” Sam replied halfheartedly. “And it was nice to meet you,” he said to me. I gave him an appraising look from head to toe before smiling in acknowledgment. Nice body. Handsome. Maybe when all this was done… Unfortunately, there were demons to check on first.

We headed outside and towards the Douche-mobile. Steve was Tim’s best friend, but I sincerely thought that Tim kept him nearby because the man had the sweetest setup in his camper. It had all the bells and whistles: stove, fridge, shower, bunkbeds, even WiFi and charging stations.

I grabbed my sword and its sheathe, a samjeongdo that was given to my grandfather after World War II, out of the saddlebags of my Yamaha before joining the others. Best place to sit was Steve’s dinner table where Reggie was already perched. We ignored each other.

“Got your ching-chong weapon from your ching-chong ride?” Tim asked from the passenger’s seat. I gave him the finger.

Why don’t I have a gun like the rest of these mouth breathers? Frankly, it’s a matter of finances. Bullets cost money. Well, okay. Not a lot of money, but enough. It also involves flashing ID’s and possibly credit cards; both dangerous things to do when your job involves killing creatures that wear human faces. I’ve heard some hunters carry around a bullet forge and use scrap to make their own. I went my own way and sprang for a collapsible bow. Arrows are retrievable, bullets are not.

Okay, I think I’m painting myself as some kind of cartoon heroine, with my Asian weapons and all. Trust me, it’s all either practical or a product of my upbringing. Growing up in a Korean household in San Francisco sort of slates you for certain stereotypes: you eat kimchi, you play the piano, and you learn to be frugal. I did ballet and gymnastics, and after I started hunting I discovered that the flexibility and athleticism translated well to sword fighting. It was a natural progression to my current state.

Reggie checked the clip of his gun while Steve and Tim argued about the destination. I peered out of the blinds. Usual nighttime small town streets. Woods in the background, no people. Peaceful and pleasant if you didn’t know what creeped about in the shadows.

Eventually Steve pulled into the parking lot for the Hawley Five and Dime, one of those twenty-four hour knockoffs of 7–11s. I looked curiously at Reggie. “Cashier is a demon,” he explained.

“And?”

“Trap him,” Steve called as he pulled his shotgun from under his seat. “Make him tell us what’s going on.”

“Here,” Tim said as he tossed me a spray can.

“Where?” I asked.

“Doorway. We’ll drive him out.”

I nodded and the three boys headed inside. I got out of the van a few minutes afterwards, ducking low so that the demon couldn’t see me, and did my job. Star, circle, scribbly runes.

While I was painting I smelled sulfur. The yellow powder had been liberally dusted onto the doormat. At least Larry, Curly, and Moe had gotten the location right, but something struck me as wrong. I got down on my hands and knees to peer a little closer. Was it me or was that too much sulfur for just one demon…? My hackles rose. I stood up and cast my eyes about. Nothing. Yet.

I drew my sword from its scabbard. This didn’t feel good, not one bit. A shotgun blast echoed inside the store and killed the opportunity to do a quick recon. Moments later, a scraggly young man bearing black eyes came pelting out of the glass doors. He smacked into an invisible wall and went down. It was almost comical. “Bitch!” he yelled at me.

Nobody likes name calling. I stabbed the thing in the shoulder. Demons can be hurt, despite rumors to the contrary, and I’d had my sword blessed by Pastor Jim (rest in peace). I had the demon shrieking by the time the others made it outside. I twisted the blade just for the hell of it before jerking it out of his flesh.

The trio just grinned approvingly. Sadists. “Now you got yourself some options,” Tim said down to the demon. “You tell us what we wanna know and we don’t let the young lady here stab you no more.”

“Fuck you,” it spat.

Tim nodded at me. I was loathe to take orders from him, but for this I’d make an exception. Into the other shoulder went my steel. A good, long howl erupted from the demon, but when I pulled my blade out again it started laughing.

We all glanced at each other uneasily. “What’s so funny?” Steve demanded.

“You came here because Sam Winchester told you about us, didn’t you?” The voice came out high and thready: this guy was riding a teenager. “I figured by now no one would be listening to him.”

“Why not?” asked Tim.

“Say please.”

I jabbed the thing in the eye. “Why, please and thank you,” Tim said over the wet sound of its eyeball popping from the socket.

“Why do you think he’s here?” the demon screamed as I whipped the orb off my blade. “Because he and his brother are having marital issues? He’s probably trying to get another fix of demon blood. Got himself addicted to the stuff. Made him feel good and strong. Strong enough to pop Lucifer’s box for us.”

The others were looking flabbergasted by the revelation. I merely frowned before uttering, “Demon’s lie.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned at me, “not all the time. In fact, I’ll even give you another truth, just because you’re so pretty.” It stood up, blood seeping from both shoulders and the empty hole in his face. “I’m not alone.”

There was a wet thump and squelch. We all looked at Steve. His eyes slowly drifted down to his stomach… where a woman’s lacquered nails were now protruding. Their owner yanked them out and spun Steve around before plunging her fingers back in.

And then she pulled.

Whenever I’d been told about a body being “torn apart” I’d always imagined the sort of bloody explosion on a video game. Random pieces of meat flying every which way, no recognizable pieces, red spattering randomly everywhere. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.

Steve folded over, his guts literally spilling onto the concrete with a splat. Blood emptied out of his body in a steady stream, saturating his organs with a thick, crimson liquid. God, the smell. Piss and shit and copper all at once in a horrible concoction that caused bile to rise up in my throat. And he was still alive. We watched, horrified, as he tried to put his intestines back, desperately scraping and scooping at the mess and gurgling for help.

We all stepped away. The female demon licked blood from her arm, her eyes black from iris to sclera. In another moment there were eight more of them.

Ten demons against three human hunters. We were fucked.

Acknowledgement : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode “Free to Be You and Me” (SPN 5.03).

[its-negans-lucille]

Nurse

THIS IS A REUPLOAD

Masterlist

Prompt: I’m in LOVE with your writing! Seriously, it’s amazing. Can I request something? One where the reader lives in the Sanctuary with Negan and goes off on a run with a few people, but she gets hurt, (idk shot in the shoulder or something) and she tries to hide it from Negan but he finds out and gets mad that she hid it from him? But then they made up. Obviously. You don’t have to, I just love your writing so fricking much.

Ships: Negan x Reader Words: 2,075 Warnings: Violence, Curse words, making out?

***

You were on a run with Dwight and a few other of the Saviours when you heard a noise. It wasn’t much, just the creak of a floorboard. You listened out to hear an accompanying moan or grunt with it. You didn’t hear anything. The noise had stopped and the only sounds you could hear were the other Saviours down checking other rooms and the thudding of your own heartbeat.

You raised your gun and held it at the mountain of cardboard boxes that you had yet to search. You flicked the safety latch with a small click as the gun was now live and dangerous. You slowly advanced on the boxes, half crouching. You kept your footfalls light on the rotting wooden floor.

You left footprints in the almost snow like dust on the floor as you walked toward the boxes. You were about three feet away when there was a loud, ear-splitting creak from the floorboard you stood on. Then several things happened at once. You saw the boxes, almost in slow motion, fall to the dust ridden floor. A tall figure erupted from the avalanche of falling cardboard. You saw that the man had a gun and he raised it so that it was level with your heart, his hand was shaking so it was obvious that if he pulled that trigger it would be one of his first kills. You simultaneously raised your pistol so that it was level with the man’s head.  

Without hesitation, you pulled on the trigger. You felt the gun kick back slightly in your hands but you held it still. You could see that shadow of panic cross the man’s face as the gunshot rang out around the small room.

The bullet threaded through the right side of his neck. Bright, crimson blood spouted out of the wound. You hadn’t hit your target of between his eyes but this was close enough. You were smiling now as you began to slowly walk towards the man who was now holding his right hand to his neck, desperately attempting to keep some blood in. You saw the horror in his eyes when he coughed up exponential amounts of blood. Then you heard it.

The loud bang of a gunshot.

The shot hadn’t come from you. You watched as the man lowered his left arm which was holding the lethal looking pistol. The last thing that man saw before his eyes went glassy was the look of surprise on your face.

You looked down at your right shoulder to see blood blossoming over your grey shirt. There was a hot, dampness washing over your skin. You staggered backwards and braced yourself on a cold, steel table.

The door burst open with a loud bang and Dwight ran in, flanked by the three other saviours who had accompanied them on the run.

“The hell you fire the shot for?!” Dwight yelled. You saw his face go from angry to concerned when he saw the red blotches on your shoulder. “Who did…” Dwight asked as he lowered his weapon. You pointed behind the large pile of abandoned boxes.

You could see a pool of blood beginning to form at the base of the small mountain of cardboard. Blood was soaking into the bottom of some boxes and making them soggy.

“Not through the head.” You said through gritted teeth. The pain had just started to kick in and you felt a burning sensation in your shoulder. “Get him. Through. The head.” You said as your clenched your fists so that they went white in the dim light.

One of the other Saviours, Dean, quickly scurried over towards the man behind the boxes. He let out a strangled gasp when he saw what lay before him.  “You got him good!” He said in a praising voice.

“And he got you good.” Dwight said as he bit this thumb nervously. “You alright?” He said tentatively. You looked at him with a rage that had Dwight backing away slowly.

“Oh, I’m just spiffy. I’m on top of the world, Dwight!” You said as you raised your good arm in exasperation. “Isn’t that obvious?” You asked him in a sardonic tone laced with lethal precision.

“Ah, uh, we have some bandages back in the car. That should be good until we get…” His voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “What’s Negan gonna say when he finds out?” He looked up at you, concern laced his features.

You knew well enough that it wasn’t concern for you, no, it was concern for him and what Negan would do when he found out he had let you out of his sight for enough time to let this happen.

“He’s not going to find out.” You said abruptly. You stood up but had to lean against the table again due to the immediate pain that ran through you.

“But your wound…” Dwight said again. He was pacing back and forth. The three other Saviours were watching him and you talk, their heads flicking back and forth as if they were watching a tennis match.

“We’ll get it cleaned up. Bandage it real good. He won’t even notice.” You tried to say it nonchalantly but it came across as if you were more telling yourself that he wouldn’t find out.

“But your shirt.” Dwight said as he turned from staring out of a large, cracked window.

You turned to the other woman in the group and smiled. “D’ya think we could swap shirts?” You asked innocently. The woman looked startled to have the attention of the whole group on her, she hurriedly nodded. “That’s settled then.” You said with a smile that promptly turned to a grimace after another wave of pain.

“No one tells Negan.” You said as you looked sternly at the group. They all nodded in agreement. “Good, now let’s go swap shirts…. Because, you know, just girly things!” You said in a sickeningly girly voice as you heaved yourself up from where you were leaning.

***

You were standing over the pearly white sink in the corner of Negan’s luxurious room. You pulled down the corner of your black shirt to reveal a thick bandage which graced the curve of your shoulder. You slowly touched the wound, as soon as the tip of your finger made contact with the bloodied bandage you flinched in pain. You quickly pulled up your black shirt when you heard the doorknob creak.

You swiftly turned around and braced yourself on the sink, attempting to look as natural as you could. You let a warm smile creep on your features as Negan swung open the door, Lucille swinging lazily at his side.

“Daddy’s home!” He said loudly. You smile only widened as he covered the ground before you in a few quick and easy strides. “And how’re you,” He kissed you softly on your lip, he pulled at the bottom lip with his teeth a little which made a small moan escape your lips. “Princess?” He smirked as he pulled back from you.

“I’m a whole lot better now.” You said as you bit your lip. You could see his eyes focus on that small action. You knew how it always drove him mad with desire.

He lifted you up so that you were now sitting on the sink, you flinched a little but he didn’t seem to notice. You wrapped your legs around his torso and he slithered his hands across your hips and on your back. He began to pepper kisses and across your throat. You let out a deep moan as he did that, you felt him smirk as he nibbled at the side of your neck. The bastard.

You felt his stumble rub your skin slightly as he moved his playful mouth and tongue down your neck and to the tender spot where your shoulder met your sweet neck. You were running your hands through his carefully groomed hair when you when he said something that made your blood run cold.

“What the hells that?” He asked as he pushed back the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the blood-stained bandage. You attempted to pull the bandage up but he pushed your hands away as he looked at it more.

“It’s nothing-” You said quickly but Negan was having none of it.

“Did this happen on the run?” He asked as he slowly touched the wound with a feather light touch. You flinched a little and this time he did see it. “Yes.” You said quietly.

“How did this happen?” He asked quietly, you could hear the underlining rage in his voice.

“We were searching a… a ware house and I was upstairs and this guy he- he just jumped out from these boxes and drew a gun on me.” You answered tentatively. “I shot him but he got me as well…” You voice trailed off.

“Who was supervising you?” He asked finally after running a hand over his stumble.

“I don’t need supervision! I can look after myself!” You said loudly. “I’m not a child, Negan.”

“Was it Dwight?” Negan said, as he began pacing back and forth. You didn’t answer as he let out a low, deadly chuckle. “Oh, well D is going to get another visit from Lucille.” Negan said as he picked up Lucille and started making his way to the door.

“Negan! It wasn’t Dwight’s fault! I snuck away to search for myself. See, it was my fault.” You had vaulted across the room, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you stood in front of the door.

“Fine.” He said after a minute of staring at your determined features. “Were you even going to tell me?” He asked in a low voice. It made you stomach curl with guilt at the underlining hurt in his voice.

“I wasn’t going to tell you because I knew you would react like this.” You said as you cupped his cheek in one hand.

“I have a right to know if you get hurt.” He said in a steely voice.

“I know, I know. I really do. But I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.” You said softly. You were glad that you had lowered the escalated situation so that he was calm, although a little hurt, but calm.

“I just can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.” He said in a voice which conveyed a promise, a promise to himself. “I’m not letting you out on any more runs until your wound has healed, don’t even try to argue.” He placed his forehead against your own, his dark eyes were shut. “You know I’m being lenient.”

“Fine.” You grumbled reluctantly.

“And no sex until that wound has healed either.” He smiled when he felt you jolt away from him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” You asked in a confused and frankly concerned voice.

“I’m not going to reopen your wound when I’m making you scream my name.” He smiled weakly, some of his charisma and colour returning to his face. You frowned for a second longer before nodding reluctantly.

“Now you get to bed and rest.” He said as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you toward the bed that you both shared.

“I don’t need a nurse, Negan.” You said with a half smiled as he carefully helped you into bed.

“Well too bad.” He said as he pulled the sheets over your form.

He placed a small kiss on your forehead, far more tender than the heated, passionate kissed he would so often pepper every inch of your body with. You let a small smile creep onto your lips as he pulled up a chair to sit next to you.

“I could get used to this.” You said with a humorous glint in your eyes.

“Not a chance, Princess.”

***

I hope you enjoyed this!!! I really enjoyed writing it! I hope I did the prompt justice!!! C:

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!!

@negans-network

[bluejayadler]

I saw a post by @professorspork that describes the new power rangers as “diverse drift compatible breakfast club crimefighting children” and now I want a Power Rangers/Pacific Rim AU!

Trini and Kimberly are a surprise pairing but quickly become one of the best Jaeger pilot pairs out there. Some people think their dating, but they never say. Its their own damn business, after all. They name their Jaeger “Pink Lemonade”. Whenever anyone asks them why, they share a knowing look and one answers “inside joke”. The most they’ve said is it has to do with how they met, and only their closet three friends know. When people ask the other three, they just say “detention” and laugh. A lot of their fellow pilots mock them for their Jaeger’s name and tease them about naming a Jaeger something so “girly” and “pretty”. After one such incident, Trini drags Kimberly out of her bunk at 2 am and they spray paint pink wings and yellow stripes all over their Jaeger. Kimberly marches through the halls of the hanger like she owns the place. Trini walks through them like no one there exists. And god help anyone who tries to mess with either. They call themselves the “punk rock princesses” to the boys “rockstars” and they wear the title proudly when they see the same wing and claw design popping up on little girl’s jackets.

Jason and Billy are surprising for a different reason. No one thought Billy would make a good pilot - he’s more for analyzing and strategy. And honestly, they didn’t know how was someone with autism would do in the Drift. Jason was the all star - the perfect pilot from day on. He just never found someone to drift with. Then he met Billy, and Billy excitedly explained how the drift worked and the various theories surrounding Jason and his inability to find a drift compatible partner. Jason spent the day with Billy then marched into his commander’s office and demanded to try drifting with the non-pilot Billy. Billy loved the idea and they fell into the drift together easily. Neither ever felt like their were getting lost in the other’s mind, rather their minds seemed to fill in the gaps for each other and worked in concert. Jason sat through many dinners of Billy trying to explain a theory he had about why they worked together. He tried to understand because Billy was so excited about it. Billy didn’t mind that Jason never got it. It just meant he could try again at dinner the next day. Billy became the strategist and easily picked apart the strengths and weaknesses of every kaiju withing a minute of their battle. And Jason found it exceedingly easy to take Billy’s thoughts and turn them into action. Jason just wished he could get Billy to stop tinkering with new Jaeger experiments in their small bunkroom. Billy is the reason they befriend Trini and Kimberly. All the pilots met before, even worked together. But Billy loves their pink and yellow design and seeks them out to ask if they have any red and blue spray paint. Jason goes along with it and they end up with red scales and blue horns decorating their Jaeger’s headpiece. Trini and Kimberly were glad to help on the boys’ 2 am escapade.

Zack is the loner of the hanger, until he meets the other two pairs at least. But that comes later. Zack is one of only three pilots to have ever gone solo. Like the other two - he carried the weight of that battle with him. Zack had also been part of the only known mother-son Jaeger pair. He used to joke “I always do what my mother tells me” whenever anyone asked how they worked so well together. But something went wrong during one of their battles. His mother’s vitals spiked and she became half-disconnected from the link - enough that she was no longer in control of the Jaeger but he could still sense her in his mind. He managed to finish the battle and pilot the Jaeger back to the hanger. When he woke up in medical, he found his mother bed-ridden next to him - alive but dying, he was told. They had tried to find him another partner. After all, he was an amazing pilot. But he always felt her in the corner of his mind. He never got past that to be able to drift with anyone else. He hangs around the hanger because sometimes he needs to escape. He cares for her and will always be there for her, but part of him carried the guilt of not protecting her. A good son should protect their mother. A better son would’ve saved her, he thinks. He climbs into the remnants of their old Jaeger often - the “Black Queen” named for their mutual love of chess and its sleek design. He hides himself away in the cockpit until his solitude is interrupted by a young black man in a blue jacket climbing into the open cockpit while shouting to someone below something about “needing to see the connector design”. Billy’s following scream of surprise at literally falling on top of Zack brings the other three up in a hurry. Somehow, his private place becomes the place they all go when they need support. The next time he visits his mother, he tells her about the other four pilots and how he hopes she doesn’t mind that the space he once shared with only her he now shares with them.