#this is whatever the opposite of a fix-it fic is

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams [4/5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k [Series Masterlist][Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; pregnant!Reader, angst with an eventual happy/hopeful ending, emotional hurt, threat to abort (because it's Clay), angry Jax, Clay being Clay

a/n: So glad to see how much y'all have been loving this little thing that grew into far more than just the two parts I'd initially planned (which is why I just gave this thing a masterlist). I've decided it should end at five now, but it's because y'all enjoyed it so much that I expanded on more parts of it, so thank you for the comments and reblogs, they really are always appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989 @hiddenwritings-adventures @shadyshadyy @cwallace02sblog @staley83 @steviebbboi @bonni-98   @aria725 @mmarysha @secretlysamcro @f1samcro @dollface-xoxo

Roughly pushing open the clubhouse doors, Jax stalked inside the main room, his steps slow and purposeful. He fixed the chapel doors on the opposite end with a dark glare, his fists tightly curled at his sides as he moved past the pool table and the bar. The room was oddly quiet without the usual noise of a party underway, the space eerily devoid of its usual loud laughter and even louder music. It was a Wednesday night and the guys weren't here. 

But Jax knew that Clay was, and that's all that mattered right now.

With his jaw clenched so hard the muscles in it ached, Jax made his way over towards the closed chapel doors, his body tensed and ready for a fight. Clay had been conveniently difficult to find ever since Jax had broken into your apartment and confronted Gemma about your disappearance yesterday afternoon. Which meant Jax had more than an entire day to sit in his quiet rage while it festered, causing him to only further grow vengeful and furious when he thought about what Clay had done to you. His imagination supplied the missing pieces of the puzzle, because Jax could guess what threats Clay had made against you.

But while Jax had been itching for the chance to get Clay alone and confront him, he’d also been busy making his own moves. He'd still spent that time trying to figure out where the hell you could’ve vanished, but it didn't matter how often he kept trying your phone, it always went straight to voicemail–as if it was turned off now. He’d tried leaving you a handful of messages, but he never heard anything back from you. 

It was going on five full days of you being gone without a goddamn word. The silence from you was maddening. All Jax could think about was you out there somewhere pregnant with his kid, completely alone, and probably scared because of Clay. He fucking hated the thought of that. It had him tearing apart both his room at the clubhouse and his own damn house. 

Jax had tried to focus his mind and energy on doing what he could in the meantime–sending out Chibs and Juice to interrogate your landlord in an attempt to figure out whatever they could. While they’d been tasked with that, Jax had spent the day planning something else with Opie. Because he was going to bury Clay for what he’d done, that much was certain. But even that still didn’t feel like he was doing enough right now. 

As Jax approached the chapel doors, he could hear the faint sound of voices coming from within. His teeth ground together, his anger barely being held back inside of himself as he stood there attempting to keep some level of composure. He needed to see what answers he could manage to get out of Clay, to see if there was anything he might say that could give Jax some idea of where you were. But of course Clay was here late plotting things behind closed doors and the backs of the whole club. 

He wasn’t going to keep getting away with this shit, though. Not anymore.

Uncurling one of his fists, Jax reached out and twisted the door handle before pushing the door open so hard it flung backwards and smacked into the wall with a sharp bang. Both Clay and Tig instantly fell silent at the interruption, their attention shifting straight towards the door. Jax stood there with his eyes locked on Clay, a vicious gleam in them as his lips curled back into a sneer.

If he could have ripped Clay’s head off with his bare hands right now, he absolutely would have.

“Whoa, Jax, man,” Tig began, brows furrowing faintly together as he took in the sight of him. “Easy there. What the hell are you doing?”

Clay didn’t look remotely fazed at the sudden enraged entrance, almost as if he’d been expecting it. The way he so comfortably leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, folding his hands in his lap as he focused on Jax like he was completely untouchable, only pissed Jax off further. But it was clear on Clay’s face–he knew exactly why Jax was here just by looking at him.

“Get the fuck outta here, Tig,” Jax snarled, his glare remaining fixed on Clay.

In the chair beside the Sons’ president, Tig focused his attention on Clay, giving him a questioning look. With his own eyes never leaving Jax, Clay gave him a single nod in response.

“Leave us, Tig,” he ordered, flicking a hand dismissively. “‘S’alright. I got this.”

Tig hesitated in his chair for a moment longer, clearly aware of the tension between his president and vice president but not making the connection as to what it was over. Eventually when Clay didn’t say anything otherwise, Tig quietly slid his chair back and rose to his feet. He gave Clay one last look before he slipped past Jax and out of the chapel, closing the door after himself on his way out. 

And then it was just the two of them.

Jax stood there for a moment longer, seething as he stared back at the man who’d just spent one afternoon five days ago blowing up his entire life like it was nothing. And now here he was sitting there looking so fucking calm about it, like he hadn’t done a goddamn thing wrong forcing you out of his life and this town.

“Where is she?” Jax asked, voice level but not any less threatening. “What’d you do to her?”

Clay shrugged a shoulder simply, pulling a face at the questions. “I didn’t do nothin’ to her,” he answered. “Just paid her a visit. Had a talk. That’s it.”

Lips pressing together, Jax’s nostrils flared sharply at the response. He knew damn well how much Clay was downplaying whatever ‘visit’ he’d had with you. And yet he was going to sit here and lie to his goddamn face about it, too. 

“A talk about what?” he pushed firmly. “And don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’ve had it out for her since that first night she came to the clubhouse. Don’t tell me it was some friendly visit.”

Clay continued to sit there, casually leaning back in his chair at the head of the table as a silence fell in the room. Jax recognized the calculating look in his step-father’s eyes–he’d seen it plenty of times to know what it was by now. It was the same look he had whenever he attempted to twist the truth or detract attention away from himself.

“She doesn’t fit, Jackson,” Clay finally said, his words breaking through the heavy tension in the air. “In this world, in this club, in your life. I know it. Your mother knows it. And I’m pretty damn sure your little girlfriend knows it, too.”

With a frustrated grunt, Jax crossed the distance from the entrance of the chapel and over to the ornately carved wooden table. His eye twitched as he tried to hold himself back from doing precisely what he’d rather be doing–beating the absolute shit out of the man. But instead, his fists came down slowly against the table’s surface as he leaned over towards Clay.

“That’s not what I fucking asked you,” Jax growled low.

“But it’s what you need to hear,” Clay countered, his own tone matching Jax’s as he leaned forward along the table, his eyes narrowing back at him. “Because ever since she started working at the garage, you’ve been distracted. Everyone can see it. You���re lettin’ pussy distract you from your responsibilities to the club and your family.”

Jax slammed his fist hard against the solid table, his knuckles stinging from the impact. It was taking every bit of willpower for him to resist striking Clay right in the fucking face like he desperately wanted to, but he knew he had to refrain from the urge. He had a plan in motion to deal with Clay and he couldn’t deviate from it. He couldn’t risk tipping the club off as to what was really going to happen to Clay by having a physical altercation with the piece of shit and leaving any evidence of just how badly he wanted him gone. 

“Don’t you dare call her that,” Jax warned him. His lips twisted up into a dark smile, one that contained only danger and threats as he held Clay’s own cold gaze. “She’s not just some club whore, you old bastard. She’s my girl. My old lady. And you were threatening her.”

Clay scoffed, shaking his head at Jax’s words as if they were nothing. Jax could feel himself practically vibrating with rage right now, everything inside of him screaming to unleash what he was feeling on the bastard–to beat him within an inch of his life and watch him choke on his own blood in this very room.

“She’s nothing more than a passing flavor of the month for you,” Clay retorted. “The way you go through girls. She's nothing.”

“She’s mine!” Jax shouted, finally succumbing to his rage. “And she’s carrying my fucking kid!”

Jax’s chest heaved with his sharp breaths as he stood there bent over the table, a wild look in his eyes as he stared down his president. Clay still kept that outward calm as he eyed Jax, clearly unaffected by his words. Which was all the confirmation Jax had needed. Gemma might not have known that you were pregnant, but somehow Clay had. And he’d still fucking pushed you out of Charming anyway. 

Trying to reign in his temper, a bitter laugh fell out of Jax as he straightened back up beside the table. He stared down at Clay, one of his shaking hands coming up to comb through his shaggy hair in frustration. 

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?” he spat. “You knew she was pregnant. That’s why you threatened her, wasn’t it?”

Clay shrugged again. As if it didn’t matter. As if you carrying his goddamn child didn’t matter. His lips pressed together at the realization of just how cold–how fucking cruel and ruthless–the man really was when he wanted something. And Clay had wanted you out of the picture long enough. 

“Yeah, I knew,” he admitted easily. “So I paid her a visit. Told her the truth.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed further into slits at his words. “The truth?” he shot back, his head tilting to the side in challenge. “What fucking truth, Clay? You been doing nothing but feeding the both of us lies for months now. So what goddamn truth did you share with her, huh?”

Clay’s hand raised from the table, gesturing at Jax before him. “That you, my son, are not remotely in the place or the mindset to become a father,” he answered smoothly. “You’re barely taking care of your damn self, you got no idea the first things about raising a kid. And let’s be real–that ain’t the kinda shit you want on your plate right now.”

“Don’t you–” he snapped, pointing a ringed finger sharply at Clay, “–call me your son after the shit you've done. And don't you even try and pretend to know a damn thing about what I want. You got no idea.”

“Don’t matter now,” Clay told him. “Your girl is probably long gone now. She’s got no job since I fired her, so who knows what happened to her.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, Jax’s jaw tightened at the information. He’d fired you–you hadn’t quit. Clay had fired you knowing that you were pregnant. Knowing you’d need a job and money and fucking insurance to take care of yourself and that baby right now. And right now you had none of that, not because you’d made the choice yourself, but because Clay had intentionally taken it all from you.

Attempting to maintain his composure, one of Jax’s hands ran along his mouth. The sharp scratch of his facial hair against his fingers barely registered as he fought to keep himself from knocking the old fuck right out of that chair. That haunting thought of you somewhere struggling right now flashed through his mind, and he physically had to restrain himself by gripping his other hand against the edge of the table.

Clay would get what was coming to him despite how goddamn smug he looked sitting there. Because Jax knew something that Clay didn’t, and it would only be a matter of time before that president patch was stripped from Clay’s kutte and sewn onto his own. 

Jax was going to make damn certain Charming was safe for you, and then he was going to fucking find you and fix everything. It didn’t matter how long it took for you to forgive his stupid fucking ass for not just listening to you that night you’d come to him for help. He would do whatever it took to get you back here and keep you safe. 

Which is what he should have been doing in the first place.

Taking a few steps back towards the chapel doors, Jax’s glare remained on Clay. “You fucked up, old man,” he told him. “You're eventually going to find that out.”

Without another word, Jax turned and exited the chapel, slamming the door shut behind himself as he went. As he stormed his way through the empty clubhouse, his steps swift and heavy, he knew it was foolish to have hoped that Clay might have given him some clue as to where you’d disappeared to. He probably had no damn idea himself.

Stepping outside of the clubhouse and back into the dimly lit parking lot, Jax continued to stride across the pavement. Opie was waiting for him right where Jax had left him a bit ago–leaning against his bike and smoking a cigarette. He nodded his head in greeting at Jax as he expelled the smoke from between his lips.

“Get what you needed to, brother?” Opie asked curiously.

“Of course not,” Jax snarled in irritation. He grabbed his helmet from where it was hanging on the handlebars of his bike, unclipping it before he jutted his chin at Opie. “You get what you needed?”

Opie nodded, tossing his cigarette down to the pavement. He stamped it out with his shoe, his eyes flickering to the clubhouse as he did before he focused back on Jax.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You sure you wanna do this, though?”

Jax’s eyes burned with rage as he stared at the clubhouse, securing his helmet on his head. “He’s taken enough from us, Ope,” Jax answered, an edge to his words. “He got away with what he did to Donna. Now he's trying to push out my girl.” He secured the helmet on his head as he looked back at his best friend. “You wanna give him the chance to find an excuse to go after Lyla next?”

A muscle jumped in Opie's cheek at the question before he quietly shook his head. 

Jax turned and threw a leg over his bike, settling down onto it. “I’m sick of him getting away with this shit,” he spat bitterly. “He's not taking anything else from us.”

[scrawlingmouse]

River Runs Forward

This is but one of the legends of which the people speak.

----

SEQUEL TO AFTER LETS GOOOOOOOOOO

Major spoilers for like. Everything in Tears of the Kingdom. Have fun c:

[noahthegrailkeeper]

me reading what happens in the Telegony:

[starbuckaroo]

Ohhh I already replied to the op here, but I hadn’t seen these gems pulled out before and I can’t help but reblog this again! It also made me think about some spec post 7.09 (but I’m putting it under a readmore coz it does sort of veer away a lot from the original point of the post and I don’t want to super derail things)

It’s been going around and around in my head how strange it is that aside from his fit of jealousy and unsanctioned physicality w Eddie during the basketball game, Buck has been surprisingly steady and apparently mentally stable this entire season. Which imho has just not been earned!!

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make it feel more fair to both Eddie and Buck, wrt their different traumas, and so part of me wants Eddie to break his stuff down now, post 7.09 I want him to maybe have to fight his parents to keep Chris, to prove to himself that despite his fuck-ups, he’s a fucking good dad and a person worthy of figuring himself out, fuck-ups and all. And maybe getting through all of that intact (with Chris ofc it’s shouldn’t need to be said but, well) would release him from enough of his guilt and shame that a queer awakening would be able to blossom through that without too much trouble.

The only thing is that I think for things to go the best for Eddie (and for Chris), Buck needs to be somewhat stable and not super self-centered during this time. Like I think he would show up for them no matter what, he’s demonstrated that, but I wouldn’t want his bullshit to pull focus. So I’m imagining Buck and Tommy going steady through this, and maybe Tommy stepping back in as Eddie’s friend too sometimes to help out. And then whatever the major big drama w Eddie happens and is over, but before any potential coming out for Eddie, I want Buck to hit a snag w Tommy.

Maybe he realizes they’re having issues, but he can’t figure out why bc he could have sworn that this relationship was different enough from all his previous ones that he shouldn’t have had any trouble! Tommy understands his job and his life and also values the 118 as a found family even!! Tommy is accepted by all of his found family! There’s integration there in a way that doesn’t make his relationship feel siloed off from the rest of the important people in his life! Even Chris likes Tommy!! So why are there still problems for him?

Oh yeah maybe it’s just coz of all the rampaging trauma he’s never really addressed.

Idk what the instigating factor would be tbh bc I DO think that Tommy being a firefighter that gets along well w the 118 and also Chris (and Eddie) DOES fix a lot of the issues he may have encountered with previous partners, but it doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t ever had to be a full adult and fully share his life with a partner before, hasn’t had to deal with conflict or hurt with a partner in a way that doesn’t shut down his own feelings about something or that doesn’t result in him doing some sort of self-harm about it. The way he responds to interpersonal conflicts is still incredibly immature and deeply rooted in his trauma, and I can see that raising hella red flags for Tommy and/or triggering some latent trauma of his own. So I can’t decide if I want to see Tommy fight w him and pull away and watch Buck try to fight to keep the relationship but fucking fail anyway, or to have Tommy make a clean break of it and leave Buck confused to make sense of the pieces left behind.

But either way I think the relationship w Tommy is an important first step toward a healthy partnership w Eddie bc Buck needs to fucking sort his shit out before he goes anywhere near Eddie. Can you fucking imagine if they got together now and Eddie made a new friend again? Or even just like idfk went to hang out w Linda from dispatch or something? Imagine if Buck dealt w his jealousy in any sort of similar fashion, but within the confines of a serious romantic relationship! Especially with Chris involved!!!

No fucking thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah I’m on the buddie train long term absolutely but Buck?? Has not done enough personal growth to earn that spot with Eddie. Not if we are talking also about Eddie needing to figure out his trauma before he’s “allowed” to be with Buck, in any case.

I've been trying to figure out what exactly it is that bothers me about how people talk about an Eddie sexuality arc in comparison to how the bi Buck one is being discussed and I think a lot of it is the tone. Why is it that Buck 'deserves to have a soft, fun time discovering himself' but Eddie 'needs to figure his shit out'? Why does Buck need to have a separate arc* but Eddie's needs to be connected to Buck? There is a very weird undertone in how a lot of people talk about it that is almost malicious, like Eddie should be "punished" for not figuring it out sooner? Eddie is somehow singlehandedly holding his life back and needs to get over himself while Buck needs someone to help him through all his problems (and they are always problems, not issues).

* The funny thing about this is that Buck's sexuality HASN'T been separate from Eddie, like at all.

[samkerrworshipper]

celebrations pt.4

barca femeni x reader

warnings: minors dni. 18+ content

i’d like to start this off by saying it’s completely wild to me that this initiation verse started over a year ago and i’m still here and people are still reading and enjoying it! as per usual with all my orgy fics this fic would not exist without the existence of @vixwritesagain who literally secretly runs woso orgy fics lol honestly after writing the last chapter of celebrations i thought i was done with this whole universe but we’re back? and maybe wanting to write another series? anyways send me ideas if anyone has any for future initiation fics but for now enjoy!!!!

“So tell me then, what do you want?”

You looked up at Alexia dumfoundedly.

It wasn’t as easy of a question as she was making it out to be, truly, you had no idea what it was that you wanted.

You’d been able to mentally cross out the things Alexia had offered you, but there was still a big fog covering your desires.

Her hand loosens around your throat, giving you enough oxygen to be unable to blame your lack of awareness on it. She moves her hands down to rest on your collarbones, like a necklace made out of her hands.

You want something, you want gratification, you want to feel good, but it isn’t as simple as it normally is. There isn’t a craving for pleasure inside of you, there isn’t a deep craving for anything. You want attention, you just aren’t sure how to convey that without it sounding stupid.

Alexia’s pupils are completely blown, she looks like a drug addict whose just gotten a fix of her favourite drug. Even as she appears to be controlled, like she is in charge of everything happening, it was obviously clear that she was just as affected by everything happening as you where. Her smirk faltered for a second, it was hard to pick up on but for a second, she pouted, like she knew that she couldn’t give you what you wanted without you asking for it, even though she so clearly just wanted to just take control.

“I don’t know.”

Alexia looks disappointed and then it fades into annoyance.

“You don’t know or you don’t want? The two mean very different things.”

Alexia’s discreetly asking if for whatever reason you don’t want this any more, it’s nice and whilst you do feel overstimulated and you’re starting to develop the shivers all across your body from the constant push and pull of the experience you are taking part in.

“I don’t know.”

Alexia exhales, like she’s trying to push all of the oxygen out of her lungs and eliminate all of the tension she’s feeling.

She’s so swift you get tangled up in a whirlwind of her body as she lifts you up, pulling you into her lap.

“So you’re going to be difficult, that’s fine, I’m very good at breaking little girls who like to be defiant.”

Alexia places a kiss to your forehead, it’s deliberate, then she slides you off of her lap and into her warmed spot on the armchair. Alexia doesn’t waste as much time, and whether you’re aware of it or not, your gut only warms as you subconsciously realise it’s because she’s just as desperate to get back to you as you are to have her.

By now, Ona is crumpled on the bed, folded in a unceremonious pile of her bones, skin and sheets. Lucy is lapping at her lazily, slow and soft and the opposite of everything you’d seen with your own eyes a few minutes ago.

“Lucia.”

Lucy looks up and you see the big smirk on her face, her pupils are blown and her chin and mouth are shining, covered completely in Ona.

“Si, capitana?”

Lucy’s words carry the confidence that you’re familiar with, post-fuck Lucy is maybe on of your guiltiest pleasures, it’s subtly confident with a streak of complete contentment. It’s also one of the only time that she truly seems to be completely at peace, serene with the energy surrounding.

“I assume you won’t be using that?”

Alexia points to the strap so unceremoniously that it could be as though she was asking Lucy for something as mundane as a piece of gum or a spare hair tie.

“I’d be happy to put it too good use on your girl.”

Alexia rolls her eyes, and doesn’t hesitate whatsoever to lean down to meet Lucy half way.

Their kiss is quick, Alexia uses her vantage point to reach down and undo some of the harness from Lucy’s hips.

“If she starts behaving then you are welcome, but until then she’s mine.”

Alexia reaches down and ruffles Ona’s hair, whispering something in spanish about her taste, your ability to process english is limited in this moment, adding spanish is just impossible.

In the few steps between yourself and Lucy, Alexia manages and impressive feat of pulling the harness on and securing it. You are completely and utterly mesmerised, by the time she does make it to you, you are suddenly feeling some regret for your actions.

Alexia smirks from above you, like she knows that she’s won, not that she would have ever doubted it. Alexia always won, no matter what it was, she didn’t know what it meant to lose and she would never accept defeat.

She lifts you up, takes her spot back, and then balances you back on her lap.

You go pliably, even as she turns you around to face the rest of the room, your ass now rubbing against her newest addition to the equation.

“You’re going to sit here, on my cock. I’m not going to do anything, not until you say the words you know I want to hear. Grind away, rock up and down, do whatever you need to do. It won’t be enough, nothing is going to be enough. The desperation will get to you. You know how I know that? Because every slut is the same, you may act different, you may tell yourself that you are stronger but at the end of the day your desire is going to win. You don’t move until then, I’ll wait here watching the rest of the show all night, it doesn’t matter to me. Make a mess of my thighs and yours, try and keep yourself under control, but it’s not going to work.”

Alexia lifts you up as she whispers in your ear, guiding you down onto the strap with ease. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you slide down, it’s nowhere near the biggest strap you’ve take for Alexia, you know because you saw it. But something about the gravity of your situation makes it feel bigger, your feel full before your even halfway on it. You almost say something, but Alexia’s words sync in, nothing you say matters unless you’re saying what she wants to hear.

Alexia takes her time seating you, the last few inches disappear into you at a snails pace, like Alexia is trying to draw out your torture as much as possible.

When she finally moves her hands from your ass, letting you melt into her lap the reality of your situation sets in. When Alexia’s hands had been on your body the sensation had been satisfying, but now that you are completely exposed and left to your own devices your predicament is feeling a lot less fun.

Aitana, Frido and Ingrid are no longer a three. Now Jenni and Aitana are together, Aitana lying on her side on the bed whilst Jenni marks her up shamelessly and pumps her fingers in and out from behind at a steady pace. Ingrid, Mapi and Frido is a sight to behold. Your eyes naturally fall to Frido, her blonde head so hard to miss from it’s spot inbetween Mapi’s legs, sucking directly on her clit, her arms are hooked around Mapi’s thighs, opening her up as much as she can. Ingrid is harder to spot, considering that she’s lying beneath Mapi but with every thrust of her legs up, you catch a different angle. You can’t quite see where Ingrid is thrusting into, but based on the look on Mapi’s face you make the judgment it must be her pussy, the way her mouth is unwavering in it’s large O and how her eyes are tight and scrunched, her eyebrows nearly melting into the creases of her eyelids.

You don’t know when you start subconsciously grinding on the strap, but it happens naturally. Your body needs to move, needs to feel, needs to grasp some kind of pleasure that everyone around you is experiencing. Alexia doesn’t try to stop you, she knows that you aren’t going to be capable of getting yourself to the edge, you’re welcome to try your hardest though.

What Alexia doesn’t necessarily expect is your reaction to Lucy and Keira.

Keira is sitting in Lucy’s lap, the two of them making out on the bed. It’s not exactly heated, and whilst Lucy’s hand is sitting comfortably on Keira’s hip, allowing her to grind on Lucy’s toned thigh, there’s nothing obviously eye-catching about it. Yet for you, when your eyes land there, it’s like a switch flips. Your ankles stretch behind you, balancing on the limited amount of space left on the armchair of either side of Alexia, you lock your calves, and with a hint of hesitance you begin to use gravity to grind down, and try to bounce on Alexia’s strap.

Alexia lets you go, slightly mesmersied by the way your eyes lock onto Keira and Lucy, it’s the first sign she’s seen all day that you want something, that you are watching something and feel actively connected to it. She would have preferred if it had something to do with her own actions, but her minor jealousy fades as you begin to slowly rock on the strap. You use the little elevation you have to move up and down on it, using gravity to grind down. Alexia wants to touch, wants to feel, wants to include herself in some part of it all. She stays strong though, for this to work she needs to stay strong.

Your response when Lucy touches Keira for the first time is visceral, when Keira moans so do you and something about the clear connection is making Alexia feel the most out of control she has in a while. She’s so certain that no matter what visual stimuli you’re provided with, no matter what fantasies are coming to fruition that you will be unable to get the kind of stimulation you are aching for from simply observing.

With every movement the two make, you try and push yourself more. You’re not aware of it, but Lucy and Keira are well aware of what is happening across the room from them. You’re so dumb from all the endorphins pinging inside of your head that all you can focus on is what they’re doing and trying to get yourself off on Alexia’s strap. What becomes obviously clear to you though, as you watch Lucy and Keira is that everything about your circumstances is wrong.

You can’t get the right angle, you can’t get the sensation of somebody elses hands on you, none of it is right. You get more frustrated by the second. Alexia finds it quite cute, watching you squirm and move your feet around trying to find a new angle or position that will give you what you’re looking for but none of it seems to do it for you.

You moan, as if it’ll somehow alleviate all of the built up pressure inside of you. Alexia knows it doesn’t work when you try three more times just to collapse in her lap. Your legs go first, then your abdominal muscles and your shoulders until at what seems like a very uncomfortable position you slump backwards into Alexia.

Through it all you don’t take your eyes off of Keira and Lucy, not as their hands travel south, not as they both start to tease each other in a spectacle that has even Alexia keening.

Alexia may not be the one to break you, but this will be, she is certain.

“You could have that, all of that bebita, if you’d just say something.”

You don’t relax, even as you go limp. Sure, your body slackens but she can feel your muscles still tight, pulsing and unable to ease.

“P-Please.”

You’re trembling, your muscles uncomfortably stretched and your whole body shaking. It’s not enough, nothing you do at this angle will be enough.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

Alexia’s been dragging this out for hours now, since the stadium, on the bus, whilst all of her teammates have been getting off. It’s so worth it to feel how your body jerks momentarily when her lips press against your ear lobe.

She nips it for just a second, just to enjoy the reaction that it elicits when your ankles force you back up from your fully seated position.

“Please, I can’t do it myself, can’t fuck myself the same way that you do.”

Alexia nips at your earlobe again, the reaction is too good not to take advantage of.

“Oh does bebita need help? Not strong enough to handle it all by yourself, hm?”

You nod, frantic and desperate. You’re sick of watching, sick of feeling nothing but edge, you need something.

“Please.”

Every syllable is annunciated as clearly as possible considering the pants and huffs that leave your mouth every time Alexia floats her fingers over some part of your skin or places her lips somewhere else.

“Please, Ale, can’t do it myself. Need you to fuck me, need you.”

You practically mewl, whimpering, begging for Alexia to take some kind of pity on you.

“The problem is bebita, that I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out what you want, trying to teach you a lesson that I’m feeling quite tired now. Muy Cansada. I’m not quite sure if I’m up to fulfilling what you need. It’s going to take some convincing”

You’re endorphin high, but you’re capable enough to read between the lines of what Alexia is asking.

“Please Ale, whatever you want, anything, I’ll take anything. I’ll give anything, just please.”

Alexia pushes both of her hands against your abdomen, snaking her fingers until they cover the whole width from your hips to your bellybutton.

“I’m so happy how we are though. Doesn’t it feel good having my cock all snug in your pussy? What else could you want bebita?”

You’re close to screaming, or that’s at least how you feel. There are so many feelings, so much pent up energy that you weren’t fully aware you had and now you do it’s like a big wave crashing over you.

“Please just fuck me. Rough- please Ale, please, can’t do it myself.”

Alexia let’s some of her fingers dip to just above your mound, her grip is tight enough to bruise and you silently wish that it will.

“I don’t know bebita, you were so hesitant earlier, I think it’s best we work you up to those kinds of things. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you too much.”

Alexia shifts both of her thighs, driving the strap further up into your for the first time, you nearly shriek from the stimulation.

“Alexia, Capi, please. Need it, need it rough, now, please.”

Alexia keeps one hand steady on your stomach, and brings the other one up to your chin, using the same grip on the bones and muscles across the new lay of skin.

“You don’t have any control here. If I say we’re taking it slow, we’re taking it slow. I’ve had enough of your teasing, did you really think after all of that I was going to fuck you just the way you wanted? No, baby, we’re going to take this nice and slow, just how I want and if you can do what I ask then maybe, just maybe I’ll fuck you how you want. Entender?”

You don’t really have any choice but to nod, Alexia’s been soft with you all night, this new energy is only maing you more desperate for something rough, something that is going to make you forget this whole night in it’s entirety and leave you with sore muscles from more than playing 90 minutes of football.

“Good, I know just how much of a good girl you can be even if you don’t want to admit it. I’ve got a deal for you bebita, if you can play my game then I’ll fuck you how you want, you can have whatever you please. But you have to play by my rules.”

It’s so easy to nod and agree, even when you know that Alexia’s proposal could be pure torture.

She reaches over to the table beside her, picking up the bullet vibe she’d kept in your panties the whole bus ride.

“You’re going to press this to your pretty little clit, you’re going to use my cock to get as close to your orgasm as you can. Every time you get close you’ll take the vibe away, you can only come once Keira does, if you come beforehand then we’re going to play my way all night, and I can guarantee that’ll be the last thing you want.”

Alexia presses the vibe into your shaking hands, it’s so easy to hesitate. Keira and Lucy are both taking their time, you can’t even quite tell if they’re touching eachother properly yet, or if their makeout is going to become even more stretched out. They’re dynamic is soft in a way that you would normally crave but not right now, right now you want to be like Ona, passed out beside Lucy, her whole body boneless and thoroughly fucked beyond belief.

“Is there a problem?”

You could say no, deny again and put yourself through another trial set by Alexia. It would land you in the same place though, and whilst you’re feeling particularly bratty on this occasion you’re tiring whether it’s from being mercilessly stimulated by your surroundings or the day of football you’ve had. You’re exhaustion is getting the best of you and you won’t be able to sustain it for much longer.

It’s a slow motion production, your hand and forearm resting on Alexia’s as you click the button on the bottom of the cibrator. You try not to flinch away from the movements it immediately makes, Alexia’s hand covers your own, clicking it three more times to put it on the highest level. Her hand pushes yours downwards, until it’s hovering directly above your pussy.

Alexia’s the one who pushes, your whole body jerks as soon as the vibrator makes contact. Alexia’s hands on your stomach and hips keep you still, prohibiting you from moving away from your hand.

You’re close within a matter of mere seconds, the excessive stimulation on top of the arousal you’ve already been experiencing is too much.

You move your hand away as soon as you feel the coil tightening, it would be easy to enjoy a few extra seconds of the bliss but you know in the long run that it’ll be easier if you keep yourself controlled.

You’re relieved when you hear Keira moan from across the room and the clear visual that she’s riding on Lucy’s fingers, it’s a sign enough that maybe your assigned punishment won’t be as long-winded as you’d originally presumed.

When the initial pleasure fades you put your hand back to it’s spot, the bullet presses directly to your clit. The sensation is pounding, your eyes feel heavy from the intensity of it all and your abs hurt from the constant core workout it feels like the position you are in is causing.

You get close again, and without Alexia having to say or do anything you remove your hand. It’s almost easy, watching Lucy and Keira and mirroring what’s happening. It’s supposed to be some kind of tease or punishment and yet you find yourself happy enough to play along with it.

You enjoy it but that doesn’t take away from the levels of frustration that you are going through, there isn’t anything fulfilling about edging yourself whilst being in a room surrounded by people who could be giving you something. You could have so much, and yet you’re perched on Alexia’s lap completely at her mercy.

You want something more, you want Alexia to give you something more.

“Ale, Alexia, please.”

There are fresh tears pooling in the edges of your eyes, you just want something.

“Please, Please, Alexia please just fuck me.”

Alexia lifts her hips, thrusting up to give you something. She won’t go back on her word, not when she’s so focused on making sure that you know just how much she means to show you how much she appreciates you.

“Do you need some help? Go ahead baby, cry and pout all you want but you aren’t coming until Keira does. I don’t care if it takes 2 minutes or 2 hours, I’m going to keep this same slow pace and you’re going to take it. All of this could have been avoided if you’d just been a good girl earlier, think about how much fun you could have had? Jenni and I fantasised about all the things we could do to you, I know that Lucy and Keira had their own plans, and if Mapi had of managed to get her hands on you then you would have been broken in two by the time the sun came up. But, you came in between that, you wrecked all of our perfect plans and there’s nothing you or I can do about it now.”

Alexia keeps up the slow rocking, her legs bouncing you up and down at such a slow pace that it feels like the nerves in your body are slowly pulling themselves a part.

“Alexia please, I can’t edge again, I can’t do it, please don’t make me do it again.”

Alexia’s weaknesses are limited to a very short list, you begging for her though is one of her biggest ones. Especially considering the pure desperation that fuels your every word.

“You’re not done until Keira is, and if you’re going to beg then you should do it properly bebita.”

Alexia pulls your hand away from your clit when she feels your legs begin to clench.

“Again, quicker this time.”

Alexia pushes your ahdn back down and as much as you enjoy watching Keira and Lucy you can’t do it anymore. You can’t watch the teasing happening right in front of you knowing that it’s all some sort of mind-fuck power play. Alexia has a purpose behind all of this, and even if you don’t want to let her win you’re at your witsend.

“Please, I’ve been a good girl, I’ll be your good girl. I’ve been so good, please Alexia just fuck me.”

By the rules of Alexia’s game you’ve lost, but in your mind you’ve won as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Alexia’s hips snap, she drives deep.

“There we go bebita, you learnt your lesson, hmm? It wasn’t that hard was it, was it really worth all of that just to admit it?”

Her pace goes from slow to brutal, her hips snapping up and both of her hands landing on your hips.

“You want it rough hm? C’mon baby, cum for me, you’ve waited long enough. Tell me you’re a good girl and you can cum”

It doesn’t take long at all, you don’t expect it to. You’ve been wound tight and now that Alexia is taking matters into her own hands you have one goal.

“I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl.”

The tears fall from your eyes, nothing you could do can stop it. Everything has built to this one moment, hours and hours of teasing and taunting and prolonged torture for this.

You orgasm with your whole body, your toes curl, your muscles all cramp, everything tightens all for it to completely relax once the initial wave crashes. It’s cathartic, it’s everything you’d been searching for and more, you feel so satisfied, for the first time all day.

You don’t feel like every pressure around you is sitting on your shoulders, you don’t think about how one pass could have made a difference, you don’t think about how you weren’t focused enough on the pitch, all you focus on is the pure pleasure now flowing through your veins.

Alexia cools you down, nice and slow, letting you come back down from what was an almost embarrassingly loud and quick orgasm. You’re not bothered though, you’re happy in your little bubble.

“C’mon my good girl, let’s move you to the bed, not quite done with you yet.”

Alexia lifts you off her cock, a motion that makes you very unhappy. You’ve gotten so used to the pleasant fullness that you’re in no place to be losing it so quickly.

“Don’t worry bebita, you’ll have me back in you in just a moment.”

Alexia lifts you up in her arms, she turns you around and balance your limp body in her arms before heading over to the bed that Lucy and Keira are still sat on.

Ona is more aware now, watching on as Keira and Lucy continue with their never ending makeout.

“Ready for more, Oni?”

Ona smirks, big and wide, like she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Well, if I must.”

Alexia lays you down on the bed gently, leaving open kisses across your chest and licking stripes up and down your neck as she follows you onto the mattress.

“You want to prove to me that you can be my good girl, hm? Will you let Oni get off on your face whilst I fuck you like the little slut you are? Just a dumb slut here to be used.”

The offer is too good to pass up and Ona seems to think the same. She waits patiently as Alexia works to the side of Keira and Lucy, lying you back against the pillows and situating herself between your legs.

Alexia adjusts until she’s happy, folding your legs up and to the side, giving her as good as an angle she can get with your floppiness.

“Keep the open, si? Close them and I stop.”

You’re eyes are focused on Ona, the way her lip is between her teeth as she sits on the back of her heels, just watching you.

“Ey, legs open, just because you’re starting to behave doesn’t mean I won’t punish you.”

Alexia’s slap to your thigh is enough of a message, you focus your attention back on her and away from Ona’s roaming eyes and pretty lips and her bed hair which is giving you new fantasies to focus on.

“Oni, go ahead.”

The last glance you get at Ona’s face is enough to send a whole new wave of arousal to begin to pool between your legs. It’s pornographic by nature, she looks so… fuckable. Which makes sense because you’d seen Lucy completely rail her, had watched as Ona had been bent and stretched in every different position. Yet she still has the energy to look at you as if your the only person in the room laying naked in front of her, like you are the main act.

You’re observation of Ona is short lived as she swings one of her legs over the side of your face and without any hesitation whatsoever begins to sit down. You welcome it, wrapping your arms around the back of her thighs and making it easier for her to balance.

Even after being fucked in every way possible she’s still so wet, you start off with slow stripes, long and purposeful, trying to savour as much of her wetness in your mouth as you can. You hardly notice as Alexia pushes her strap back into you, you’re so focused on Ona that you hardly shudder.

“Is she all wet bebita, still overstimulated from Lucia, shouldn’t take much.”

Alexia’s right, as always. As soon as your lips lock onto Ona’s clit, sucking at a steady pace, she squirms. No amount of stamina can make being built back up after that many orgasms pleasant, Ona tries to play it off but her involuntary flinch every few seconds when you suck particularly hard on a certain spot is a clear tell.

You double down, feeling her squirm and rock and try to push away from you makes you silently satisfied. You don’t have much power in these circumstances, no matter the context, but this little bit is enough for you. You hold tight on Ona’s thighs, try your hardest not to buck as Alexia’s begins to fuck you deep and fast, like she’s trying to prove just how well she knows how to fuck you. She doesn’t need to show you, you’re well aware from the many nights spent between bedsheets with her and your other teammates. Alexia knows exactly how to get you where she wants.

You know Ona’s about to come when she moans deep and loud and for the first time she starts to grind down against your chin, she might be overstimulated but the reality of her orgasm being so close beats out the unpleasant mixture of pain and pleasure.

She falls apart quickly and quietly, you figure that she’s felt so much tonight that this is the nice bow to place on top, a perfect encore for the previous events.

She doesn’t wait for you to clean her up, she lifts herself up with as much grace as a baby deer and collapses on the bed next to you.

You expect that to be the end, but before you can look up at Alexia, Ona plants her hands on your cheek, bringing you into a kiss that you were not at all ready for.

It’s all tongue and teeth from Ona, quick and desperate and yet somehow peaceful.

“I taste good on you.”

The comment makes your abs clench and your pussy to clamp down on Alexia’s strap. You’d been close, how close you weren’t quite sure but that’s enough.

You’ll reflect on it later and be slightly self-conscious about how much Ona’s words had effected you, but right now it doesn’t matter.

Alexia seems to be as shocked as you, her pace staying the same as she watches you completely lose it. Your hips shake and buck, your legs tremble and quiver and Ona just smirks like she’s god himself.

“Lucia come taste me on bebita, don’t I just taste wonderful?”

If you weren’t directly out of an orgasm you would probably go again, but you’re still halfway through your current one when Lucy leans over from her spot with Keira and places her lips on your chin, making her way up to your lips and finding whatever Ona had left on your face.

“Mm, it’s a good mix. Do you like having Ona’s taste all over you? She tastes so good doesn’t she?”

Lucy’s lips on yours, Ona’s lips on your neck, Keira’s lips now on your chest and Alexia fucking into you like a maniac. When you’d been asked what you wanted earlier this had not been what had come to mind, but if you could have thought this up it would have been the top of the list.

“You look so good with cum all over your face baby, maybe we should just keep you like this? Our little oral slut, always with a pussy, cock or fingers in her mouth. You’d be such a happy little slut.”

There are no words you can think of to respond, you have nothing, not a single thing comes to your mind.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? It would be so much easier, just letting us make all of the decisions. I know just how much Ale would love it, look at how hard she fucks you as I talk about it, your mouth is hers and everybody elses weakness.”

You unashamedly come as Lucy whispers in your ear, it’s unstoppable, it’s nowhere near as strong as the other two but it breaks you. Alexia sees it, she knows it’s happening, Lucy’s words work even better than Ona’s. Alexia’s hands soothe over your thighs as she works you through it, your whole body trembles, shaking below her hands whilst you work through the aftershocks.

She plans to work you through it, but she gets a very intentional look from Lucy and understands immediately. She pulls out as gently as she can, watching as your body clenches down on her strap.

Alexia unclips the harness as quickly as possible, throwing it off to the side before working her way up to the top of your body and rubbing her arms up and down your stomach, soft and subtle.

Keira and Ona get the message, moving off to the side whilst Lucy takes Alexia’s position between your legs.

You whimper when her tongue finds its way between your folds. Alexia holds your hands by your side when you try to move them to push Alexia out of the way.

“No more, no more, can’t go again.”

Your words are so broken, your eyes half open and your brain clearly not functioning at any level.

“It’s okay, just let Lucia clean you up, she’ll be nice and gentle.”

Alexia hands move up to your hair, carding through your locks and rubbing at your scalp.

The initial feeling isn’t nice, and when Lucy nudges your clit you recoil completely, Alexia being the only thing keeping you remotely in place.

“Such a good girl, so perfect, you’re so good bebita, let me hear it one more time.”

You struggle to find your voice, stuck in the back of your throat from your less than appropriate responses from the last few minutes.

“I-I’m a good girl.”

Alexia smiles, the same smile when she won the world cup or the champions league, victory.

“Yes you are, our good girl, just ours.”

You relax as Lucy finishes up, allowing Alexia to manhandle you into her lap and relaxing against her skin. She’s warm and comforting and everything you need to feel at peace. Your bones and muscles hurt, your thighs are sore and you doubt your ability to be able to walk like a normal human in the morning but it’s all overwhelmed by how good it feels to simply be surrounded by the people who know how to make you feel the best.

[bueckers555]

CAN’T STAND YOU — nika muhl x reader

summary: in which, you and nika show each other just how much you can’t stand one another

warnings: smut smut and more smut

authors note. part two of the pazzi x reader fic will be up soon but first, my girl nika cuz one too many angry edits of her popped up so this is what my head came up with ITS OVULATION WEEK SORRY

No one on the team could pinpoint when it started—least of all you or Nika Mühl.

Maybe it was during that first practice when you’d hustled for a loose ball and she’d beaten you to it, smirking as she dribbled away like she’d just claimed some unspoken victory. Or maybe it was the time she’d called out your positioning in a drill, her tone sharp and clipped, like you were a rookie who didn’t belong on the same court as her. Whatever it was, the seed had been planted, and it grew into something jagged and unyielding, a mutual loathing neither of you could shake.

It wasn’t loud or showy at first. You didn’t scream in each other’s faces or throw punches in the gym. It was quieter, colder— a slow burn that everyone felt but no one could fix.

You’d roll your eyes when she took the lead in huddles, her voice cutting through the air with that unshakable confidence. She’d scoff when you ran a play, muttering something under her breath about your footwork or your timing.

The team noticed, though—they always did. Paige would shoot Aaliyah a look, a silent “not this again,” while the freshmen shuffled awkwardly, unsure where to stand when the tension thickened.

On the court, it was a different beast. You were both too good to let it tank the game outright, but it showed in the cracks. During a fast break, you’d hesitate just a split second before passing to her, the ball leaving your hands with a little too much force, like you were daring her to miss. She’d catch it, of course—she was Nika Mühl, she didn’t miss much—but the glare she’d send your way could’ve burned a hole through the hardwood.

When she drove to the basket, you’d hang back instead of setting the screen she needed, forcing her to twist through defenders alone. She’d still score half the time, but the other half, she’d turn it over, and you’d feel a flicker of grim satisfaction.

“Run the play right next time,” she’d say after, her voice low and flat as you jogged back on defense. Not accusatory—just factual, like she was stating the weather. It pissed you off more than if she’d yelled.

“Maybe if you didn’t hog it, I would,” you’d mutter, loud enough for her to hear but not enough to draw Geno’s attention. She’d pretend she didn’t, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you she had.

The team adapted. They had to. Paige started calling the shots more, acting as a buffer, while KK quietly nudged you both toward open spots to keep the offense flowing. But it was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

During one game against a ranked opponent, you’d both gone for the same rebound—neither of you calling it—and ended up colliding, the ball slipping through your hands and out of bounds. The crowd groaned, and Nika’s eyes met yours for a split second, sharp and furious, before she turned away. Coach benched you both for the next few minutes, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Off the court, it was subtler but no less brutal. In the weight room, you’d push yourself harder when she was around, stacking plates on the bar until your arms shook, just to prove a point. She’d do the same, her reps silent and relentless, never looking your way but always aware. At team dinners, you’d sit at opposite ends of the table, your conversations with others clipped whenever she spoke up. The team stopped trying to force you together after a while—why bother when it always ended the same?

No one knew why it ran so deep. You couldn’t explain it yourself. She wasn’t cruel, not really—just infuriatingly self-assured, like she’d already sized you up and found you lacking. And you weren’t petty, but something about her set your teeth on edge—maybe the way she carried herself, like the court was hers and you were just borrowing space. It wasn’t jealousy; you were too good for that. It wasn’t even personal, not at first. It just was, a reflex neither of you could unlearn.

By the time that bad game rolled around, the tension had a pulse of its own. You’d both been off: your shots rimmed out, her passes sailed wide. The mistakes weren’t all on one of you, but it didn’t matter. Every missed opportunity became a weapon, every fumble a reason to point the finger. The final buzzer sounded, and the loss sank in, heavy and bitter. You caught her eye as you walked off the court, her expression a mirror of your own—frustration, blame, and something darker simmering beneath.

The team saw it coming. They always did. But this time, when the locker room door swung shut behind you, it wasn’t just another cold standoff. It was the breaking point.

The locker room was suffocating with tension after the game—a brutal loss that left the team reeling. The scoreboard had mocked them: 72-68, a four-point deficit that felt like a chasm.

Everyone knew who’d been at each other’s throats all night: you and Nika Mühl. The star guard’s fiery glare had met your own more times than the ball had hit the rim, and the team was sick of it.

“Great job out there, huh? Maybe if you’d passed the damn ball instead of hogging it, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” you snapped, slamming your locker shut. Your voice echoed off the metal, sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of your teammates.

Nika whirled around, her dark hair still damp with sweat, eyes blazing. “Me? You’re the one who missed three wide-open shots in the fourth quarter. My grandma could’ve made those with her eyes closed, and she’s half-blind!”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, stepping closer, your chest heaving from the adrenaline still pumping through you. “Your ass had two turnovers trying to show off with those fancy ass dribbles. Maybe stick to the basics next time, hotshot.”

The rest of the team exchanged looks—Paige Bueckers rolled her eyes and muttered, “Here we go again,” while Azzi Fudd grabbed her bag and bolted for the door. They’d seen this dance before: you and Nika, two storms colliding, leaving wreckage in your wake. No one dared intervene anymore.

It was pointless. Like trying to get a shark and bear get along: stupid and a waste of time.

Nika’s jaw tightened, her lips curling into a sneer. “Shit, at least I’m not the one who let their girl blow past them for that game-tying layup. You’re a mess.”

You laughed, bitter and cold. “A mess? Says the one who fouled out with two minutes left. Real fucking clutch, Mühl.”

She stepped closer, her breath hot against your face, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Keep talking. See where it gets you.”

The air crackled between you, thick with rage and something else—something unspoken that had been simmering for weeks. Your teammates had scattered now, leaving the locker room empty except for the two of you, the silence amplifying every ragged breath.

“Fuck you, Nika,” you hissed, shoving her shoulder.

She didn’t budge, just grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer, her grip bruising. “Fuck you,” she spat back, her lips inches from yours.

And then—chaos. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly her mouth was on yours, all teeth and fury, a kiss that felt more like a fight. You shoved her against the lockers, the clang of metal ringing out as your hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard. She groaned—a sound that was half-anger, half-need—and bit your lip, drawing a sharp hiss from you.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered against her mouth, your hands already under her jersey, nails raking down her back.

“Shut up,” she growled, spinning you around so your back hit the cold steel. Her fingers were rough, tugging at your shorts, yanking them down with no patience. “You piss me off.”

“Good,” you snarled, kicking the fabric aside and pulling her closer, your thigh slotting between her legs. She was still in her uniform, sweaty and disheveled, and the sight of her—pupils blown, chest heaving—made your stomach twist with want.

Her hands found your hips, digging in as she ground against you, her breath hitching. “Fuckin’ always got sum to say,” she taunted, but her voice cracked when your fingers slipped beneath her waistband, finding her already soaked. “Fuck—”

“Keep talking,” you mocked, echoing her earlier threat as you pressed two fingers inside her, curling them hard. She gasped, her head tipping back against the locker, and the sound sent a jolt straight through you.

She didn’t back down, though—never did. Her hand slid between your thighs, mirroring your movements, and the sudden pressure made your knees buckle. “You’re such a bitch,” she whispered, her thumb circling you with ruthless precision, “can’t fucking stand you.”

The words hit like a punch, and you hated how they made you clench around her fingers. You retaliated, adding a third finger, pumping faster, deeper, until her thighs trembled and her insults dissolved into broken moans. The locker room smelled of sweat and sex, the air thick with the sound of your ragged breathing and the wet, desperate rhythm of your bodies.

“Fuck, Nika—” you choked out, your free hand gripping her shoulder as she pushed you to the edge, her fingers relentless. She smirked, even as her own voice shook, “Say it again.”

You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you, shuddering as she tipped you over, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave. You clung to her, nails biting into her skin, and she followed seconds later, her hips jerking against your hand as she came with a string of curses in Croatian you barely understood.

But it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. The anger still burned, fueling something primal. You shoved her onto the bench, straddling her before she could recover, and she pulled you down with a wicked grin, her hands guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. The friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once, and soon you were both chasing that high again—overstimulated, oversensitive, but too stubborn to stop.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she panted, her voice raw as she gripped your waist, her touch bruising in the best way.

“Then die,” you shot back, but the words lost their venom as you came again, harder this time, your vision blurring. She laughed—breathless, triumphant—and pulled you into another messy, desperate kiss, her tongue claiming you like she’d won the argument.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, both of you sweaty, trembling messes. The locker room was silent again, save for your heavy breathing. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Finally, Nika muttered, “We’re still fucked for the next game.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue. “Yeah. But at least we’re good at this.”

She smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and for once, there was no venom in her eyes—just a flicker of something softer. “Truce?”

“For now,” you said, and you both knew it wouldn’t last.

[dazed-19]

based on @havanillas role swap au

normal ratio and gambler ratio switch places :3

probably gonna write this out when i finish up my argenthill fic

dr.kakavasha is suspicious of “Lapis” but chalks it up to him being weirder than usual

ratio actually understands what’s going on and tries to play the role of Lapis. he hypothesized that aven probably took his place in this universe but when he sees dr.kakavasha he freezes up and almost reveals himself.

when dr. kakavasha actually has a meeting with veritas (by force not choice, more contrast between the characters hahaahha) he realizes its not Lapis and threatens veritas.

“You’ve done your research, you know that this stoneheart’s real name is veritas ratio, but it seems you somehow haven’t caught wind of who he is now. I suggest you reveal yourself so you can lessen your punishment. Impersonation of a stoneheart is strictly forbidden.”

Ratio being ratio, uses his wits to convince dr.kakavasha. He understands that since Dr. Kakavasha is similar to himself, he should see his reasoning. Dr. Kakavasha is surprised at first, but after he learns of what Ratio’s universe is like he obliges and helps Ratio figure a way back home. All the while asking Ratio questions about himself as he finally has a chance to see who the Veritas Ratio he heard so much about while studying was like before he turned into Lapis. He does this to also understand Lapis better, because he wants to know what was the difference and why they became so different. He also is very surprised when veritas whips out his abalasor head because what the fuck?? when they’re alone together ratio uses it when he’s deep in thought because while this is kakavasha, he isn’t his.

aventurine immediately realizes it’s not his doctor bc while Lapis understands what’s going on, he dreads having to be veritas ratio again. so he disappears (as best as he can) as he knows his counterpart will find a way to fix this. aven being aven finds Lapis (he’s lucky ofc he’s gonna find him) and is surprised to see how different Lapis is from veritas and makes note of how much nous’ gaze really impacted the both of them. (if aven already knows that ratio never received nous’ gaze make it so that he realizes how much it matters as well. idk if aven actually knows this so that’s why we gotta research.) he also invites Lapis to stay with him bc Lapis has been staying at a run down hotel with a casino. aven invites him also because he wants to understand veritas more so if he learns more about Lapis, veritas’ opposite but still similar, he’ll be able to figure veritas out. and also because he wants to find out how to get his doctor back. Safe to say he is SHOCKED when Lapis is almost exactly like himself. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised since Lapis already explained what was going on, but he’s still surprised. While he would love to see a version of Ratio gamble and win 10 times in a row, he knows that his Doctor would hate to see his reputation ruined and to be thought of as a gambling addict so he makes sure that Lapis stops before things get even crazier. He opts to let Lapis gamble with himself to at least keep him entertained. Also while Aven originally let Lapis stay so they could find out how set things right, he is again shocked when Lapis slacks off and almost never touches a single book or article about dimensional travel.

“Lapis, I hope you know that while I enjoy winning against you when we gamble,” Aven stated. He wanted to get a start on how to get his doctor back, and Ra- Lapis, had done as much as spending two seconds reading a book. He took a breath, “That’s not why I invited you to stay with me.”

“I am aware, however I’m sure your Ratio is on his way to figure out whatever happened. He’s honestly probably working with my little doctor hah. Oh how I wish I could’ve seen Dr. Kakavasha’s face when he realized it wasn’t me.”

Aventurine froze. “Sorry, Kakavasha?” Lapis looked at him for a moment. And then laughed.

“Oh right, hah. Here you’re not called by your birth name since your a stoneheart. I keep forgetting that, sorry Aventurine.”

Also there’s probably one moment where Aven finds Lapis drunk and there’s a reference to the comic the artist made.

“Lapis stared into Aventurine’s eyes. Like he was lost in them. It seemed as though he could stare into those multicolored eyes forever.

“Lapis, my friend, its about time we head back no? I’m sure you’ll regret not drinking any water tomorrow so-“

“They’re beautiful.”

“…What?”

“Those eyes.” He pauses, taking another moment to stare before he dons a smile too wide for the face Aventurine has come to know. “Hah its just like what happened last time I drank this much.” The blonde’s eyes widen into saucers. The sharp inhale he does does nothing to calm himself down.

“Haha, is- is that so?”

“Quite. It's most likely the one constant throughout the universe. Your eyes will always be pretty, and they will always make me yearn.” Lapis whispers the end of that sentence, like if he says it any louder this moment will shatter into a million pieces, like a mirror.”

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 16

[chap fifteen] | [all chapters here] | [chap seventeen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | THIS chapter, yall! I created a super rough draft of this chapter waaay back in the first month of this fic's development and I'm so stoked that I finally got to come back to it after all this time!

WC | 9.1k

Chapter Sixteen

This year, Halloween fell on a Thursday, not that that was stopping any of Hawkins’ teenage population from going absolutely all-out like they did every year. You suspected half of the student body was probably going to skip school tomorrow, considering that everyone seemed to be talking about Chance’s party all damn week - clearly, Halloween was going to take precedence over classes and extracurriculars.

Although you had told Eddie you’d join the Hellfire Club again that night, you became anxious about it, which felt ridiculous - the more and more you replayed last week’s session in your head, the more unsure you were, the more nervous you became. You had practically spilled to Eddie all the pent up shit you’d been feeling via the safety of the princess character, and just recalling it made your ears hot with embarrassment; you weren’t about to let that happen again.

So, you called in a rain-check, making the excuse that you needed extra time to get ready for the party; Eddie teased you about his disappointment, although you could tell in his eyes that he was at least a little let down, even as he tried to play it cool. But, really, it also worked out that you gave yourself a couple extra hours, because you still hadn’t figured out a costume despite spending all week trying to think of ideas. It was as if the mere act of trying to find inspiration garnered you with none at all, your mind constantly drawing a blank whenever asked what or who you’d dress up as.

Having waited till the absolute last minute to even try to find a costume, you sped to the nearest department store after school and tried to search for something amidst whatever remnants were left of the costume section. Despite your moaning and groaning as you dug through vampire capes and witches’ hats, you managed to piece together an idea that, although not thrilling by your standards, was better than nothing at all.

You had also asked Eddie to dress up with you, to which he jokingly suggested a couple’s costume just to watch you squirm at the thought. That idea was quickly shot down, as it was too cheesy even for your own liking. But Eddie assured you he’d come up with something, and thus both your costumes were going to be a surprise to one another.

Not wanting to be those assholes that were punctual to an event, you told Eddie to pick you up at eight - you wouldn’t be the first people there, and that would, hopefully, give him enough time to wrap up with the Hellfire Club and get ready. So, once you returned home from the department store, you were still left with more time than you had expected, breezing past a couple of kids as they approached your house while trick-or-treating.

You worked at a leisurely pace as you fixed your make-up and fussed with your hair, making sure that your outfit looked just right, going so far as to smear fake blood on the front of your shirt. As you got ready, the ringing of the doorbell became more frequent, the trick-or-treaters coming in larger droves once the sun had finally set in the sky.

You were thankful that your mother enjoyed answering the door dozens of times to the sight of excited kids, because it meant you never got roped into the job. You were certain, though, that the children became a little less eager once they were presented with juice boxes instead of candy - despite your efforts to convince her to hand out sweets, she couldn’t be swayed, insisting juice was a better alternative.

Once your costume was finally complete and you assessed yourself in the mirror, you had to admit that you were more satisfied with it than you had anticipated. Despite its simplicity, you figured it was still a recognizable character, so it didn’t look completely half-assed and sloppily thrown together.

It also helped that the tight little shorts you were wearing made your legs look great - not that you were trying to draw someone’s attention to them or anything.

Deciding you weren’t interested in any kind of conversation (or rather, confrontation) with your parents, you lingered up in your room until Eddie finally arrived - considering all the trouble you’d gotten into over the past few weeks, you weren’t all too interested in starting Halloween on a negative note. So, the moment that you spotted his van pulling up along the curb, careful to avoid trick-or-treaters, you practically ran out of the house; trailing behind you, you could hear the sound of your father’s voice, but you bounded out the front door before he could get a word in.

You dashed down the driveway, breezing past a couple of kids bemoaning the juice boxes your mother gave them; you rolled your eyes, knowing she would never change her Halloween habits. Feeling giddy, you and Eddie smiled simultaneously at one another as you climbed into the van. Once you were settled into your seat, Eddie looked you up and down in appraisal of your outfit, and you did the same.

“A pirate?” You questioned, taking in the flowy shirt, dark striped pants, and skull-and-crossbones bandana Eddie wore.

He was still trying to figure out what the hell your costume was - admittedly, the ripped shorts, tight blue flannel, and chunky boots weren’t quite enough of a hint without your spooky accessories.

“And you’re, what, dead Daisy Duke?” He teased with a gleam in his eyes, chuckling as you shook your head as if on the defensive. You grabbed the bag you brought along with you, pulling out a hockey mask and faux machete, holding them out towards Eddie as if to make a point. He rolled his eyes in realization, his smile making you giddy, “Jason Vorhees? You don’t even like Friday the 13th.”

It took you by surprise that Eddie recalled that little bit of information about you, since it only came up once before during one of your horror movie rants; despite yourself, it made your heart flutter eagerly that he remembered something so trivial.

Pulling the mask on - but pushing it up so that it sat atop your head, exposing your face - you grinned triumphantly, pleased with your outfit and the way that Eddie may or may not have been staring at your legs, “Vorhees is better than Daisy Duke.”

Eddie gave you an amused look before his gaze slowly roved over your body again - sure, he’d seen a lot of your body before, whether he meant to or not, but something about this outfit in particular caught his attention. Maybe it was the fact that it was unlike anything you usually wore, maybe it was the way this shirt drew attention to your cleavage, or maybe it was how damn good your legs looked. His eyes were making you antsy, but soon enough he shook his head with a grin.

“Oh yeah, because adding a mask to the costume makes it totally different.”

“What, don’t tell me you’d prefer Daisy Duke.” You teased flirtatiously back, even taking yourself aback with your bluntness. Eddie gave you some unidentifiable look in response before smirking to himself and pulling away from the curb. As he drove along, gleefully head banging to the metal album blasting through the speakers, you couldn’t help but smile contently, taking the opportunity to assess his outfit more closely.

You had to admit, Eddie looked… kind of hot in this cheesy pirate get-up. Sure, you had already begrudgingly accepted that you always found him hot (and just the thought of it right now made your cheeks warm), but there was something absolutely charming about his costume of choice. His shirt exposed a long expanse of his chest, the bandana was far too attractive tied over his messy hair, and his customary jewelry only seemed to compliment the whole get-up. Eddie was frustratingly hot right now - but he didn’t need to know that.

Arriving at the party took a bit of work, as the entire street in front of the Hunter house was packed full of cars, one after another along the expanse of the entire block. You could hear Eddie grumbling to himself as he slowed the van to a crawl in search of a place to park, trying not to hit your peers as they carelessly crossed the street. A smile teased across your lips, and as if he could tell, Eddie shot you a look from the corner of his eye, which only served to make you laugh.

“Geez, has no one heard of carpooling?” Eddie muttered, finally spotting an open space along the curb just a moment later.

“What, first high school party?” You teased as he struggled to parallel park, getting one more sharp look from him.

Eventually, Eddie figured it out, and the two of you climbed out of the van, the evening breeze causing goosebumps to break out across your skin; you tried to hide your shiver, knowing that complaining would be a moot point once you were inside amidst the cramped gathering of warm bodies. Whether he knew you were cold or not, Eddie nonetheless threw his arm around you, gaze wandering across the faces of other teens as well as the few remaining trick-or-treaters running about.

Appreciating the body warmth, you pressed a little closer into his side; feeling brave, you carefully, experimentally snaked your arm around his middle. The feel of your delicate fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt drew Eddie’s gaze down to you, but you refrained from meeting his eyes, feeling stupidly nervous over such a small, simple gesture.

The music and noise from the party was seeping outside, the sound greeting you even before you set foot on the Hunters’ front walkway. A scattering of people had spilled out onto the lawn, you and Eddie drawing a couple of eyes, only for them to look away with disinterest a moment later.

And once you’d stepped over the threshold of the front door, the smell of weed hit you like a ton of bricks, the house hazy with smoke, pop music bumping loud enough that you could feel it vibrating in your chest. You had to pull yourself out from under Eddie’s arm just so you could lead him through the packed throngs of people, lightly grabbing his hand as you began to weave and maneuvering with a practiced ease; by now, you’d been to enough parties at the Hunter house that you knew exactly where you were going.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, knowing that the only appropriate way to start your evening was with a round of drinks. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces looked in your direction, some furrowing at Eddie, but most far too focused on having a good time to worry about who was attending the party. You glanced over your shoulder at Eddie, who was looking around the house with a wide-eyed intrigue, as if taken aback by just how big and wild this party already was; it made you smile fondly.

Finally entering the kitchen, it seemed as if the crowd occupying it was already well intoxicated, keeping realm over the drinks and meager party snacks. You had to shove someone aside a little just so you get to the island that was jammed with bottles and cans and red cups, finally taking your hand from Eddie’s so you could pick through your variety of options.

Although you kept picking up bottles and cans, you already knew the punch bowl full of jungle juice was calling your name; sure, that was the most stereotypical thing you could’ve picked at a damn high school party, but it always did a wonderful job of getting you absolutely plastered. You just wanted to see if anything else would possibly catch your attention.

Feeling Eddie lingering just behind you, you took a small step back into his torso so that he could hear you over the cacophonous noise; he dipped his head down, too, just for good measure, “You looking to get trashed, or you taking it slow?”

You studied his features with a faint smile, enjoying the sight of him up close like this. Eddie looked between you and the kitchen island, eyes searching slowly; eventually, he leaned in closer, practically wrapping around you as he reached for a beer sitting in a bowl of half-melted ice. You delighted in the warmth of his body, trying not to shiver as you took a breath of his familiar, enticing scent. Trying to distract yourself, you quickly grabbed a cup and made for the punch bowl.

As you dunked your cup into the mixture of alcohol and juice, Eddie dutifully followed you, cracking open his can of beer as he teased, “So, we have a couple of drinks and then we head out, right?”

Knowing he was still just a step behind, you nudged your shoulder back to bump Eddie in the chest, giving him a taunting look, “Oh, you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Spinning around to face him, you realized you were trapped between Eddie and the countertop; to hide any trepidation, you took a large swig from your cup, cringing at the diabetic amount of sugar and strange combination of flavors. Eddie laughed with a large smile at the clearly comical look on your face, and was it your imagination, or did he lean in just a little bit closer?

Eddie took a sip of his beer, gaze locked on yours even as he pressed the can to his lips, his eyes alight, “Just don’t leave me alone with anyone boring, alright?”

You smiled back easily, brushing up against him as you squeezed past, “No promises…”

And so began your evening, the both of you finishing off your first round of drinks quickly, leading into you convincing Eddie to take a couple of shots with you. Awaiting the buzz that would come soon enough, you dragged Eddie around the party, teasing that you’d make him dance eventually, which he quickly shot down, insisting that even you couldn’t convince him to dance to the likes of Madonna or Prince.

Despite assuming you’d become totally ostracized from your previous social circles, people were always so much more open once they’d gotten a few drinks in them, and so throughout the night you and Eddie would get caught in conversations - some people, you’d once been close to, others you were barely acquainted with. And the utter confusion on Eddie’s face only encouraged you, as he was fully unprepared for people to actually talk to him like a human being and not the freak they all acted like he was.

Somewhere along the way, Eddie disappeared and quickly reappeared with another round of drinks for you two, this time with a cup of his own rather than a lousy beer - you couldn’t help but smile mischievously, eager to see that he was looking to get drunk alongside you. At another point in the night, someone tried to rope the two of you into trying some heavy drugs, and you aggressively told them to fuck off before dragging Eddie away.

Following much socializing and the drinking, you and Eddie eventually escaped into the backyard to get some air; you nearly tripped into the swimming pool, but luckily he was able to pull you back before you both went in, sharing a laugh at the near-miss. Somehow, you became engaged in a conversation with a bunch of band kids who seemed to feel a little out of place at the party - evidently, one of them had dragged the others along, but they weren’t all that interested in being here. Eddie seemed drawn to this crowd now that he knew they felt just as odd as he did, quickly settling into one of the free chairs in the circle. You settled for sitting on the arm of it rather than dragging another chair over, Eddie having to steady you more than once now that the alcohol was making you sway a little.

As Eddie became absorbed in a conversation about instruments that completely went over your head, you took that opportunity to wander back inside for more drinks upon realizing both you and Eddie were carrying around empty cups. And although you swayed a little once you were back on your feet, you insisted that you didn’t need any help, that Eddie stayed put and continued enjoying the company of the band kids.

Pushing through your peers with your senses dulled, you wondered if Eddie thought you were more drunk than you were, and in turn you wondered if he was drunk, too, and just doing a damn good job of hiding it. And then you realized that you had the same line of thought at the last party the two of you attended together, your neck growing hot at the memory.

Back in the kitchen and making your way towards the punch bowl, someone came up alongside you while saying your name tentatively, prompting you to look over with a furrow of your brow. It was only Janet, dressed in a cute little Wonder Woman costume, but considering that you’d barely spoken a word to each other in recent weeks, you couldn’t help but feel hesitation at her presence.

Nonetheless, you were just drunk enough that you tried to shove that worry aside, giving Janet something of a kind look as you greeted her. The music seemed even louder than it was before, so you two had to duck your heads close together just to hear one another; as if presenting a peace offering, Janet held up a couple shots for the two of you to share.

“You here with Amelia?” You sneered your ex-best friend’s name, but Janet promptly shook her head; you downed your shots in unison.

“She and Duncan left a while ago - I imagine to go egg some houses.” Janet responded with disapproval; she’d never been one for pranks, and so it was always a surprise that she hung out with the likes of you, Amelia, and the rest of your crowd.

“How much do you wanna bet my house is one of their targets?” You asked rhetorically, finding some ease in the presence of your old friend; or maybe it was your inebriation making you less guarded than you’d usually be.

Janet gave you an unsure look, not wanting to say one way or another if she suspected that they’d do that. You refilled both your cup and Eddie’s, which prompted Janet to get a drink of her own; it made you wonder if Janet was hoping to catch you drunk, knowing that you were so much easier to talk to with a bit of alcohol in you.

Biting her lip, Janet looked at you tentatively, “Can we… hang out for a few minutes? Just you and me?”

You wanted to agree, but nonetheless made a suspicious face, “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

Janet’s eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, growing nervous, “No no no, not a trick, I promise.”

You looked between her eyes for a moment, seeking out a lie; after a moment, you held your pinky out to her with a faint smile on your lips. Janet quickly hooked her pinky with yours, holding your gaze just to ensure that you knew she wasn’t messing with you.

With a decided nod, the two of you settled into the breakfast nook, forced to sit close shoulder-to-shoulder thanks to the table’s other occupants. Once more, you ducked your heads together to hear one another over all the noise.

“I miss you.” Janet admitted as if it would somehow upset you, “Things are different without you; Amelia and Duncan are becoming unbearable.”

“Then ditch them.” You slurred as if the idea was the simplest thing in the world - and for you, it had been. But Janet huffed indecisively.

“I can’t,” You were about to argue, but she continued before you got the chance, “ we graduate in May, I really don’t want to find a new crowd to spend time with till then.”

Your brow furrowed as if the answer was obvious, “If you’re looking for someone to sit with at lunch or whatever, just hang with us.”

The face Janet pulled seemed on the verge of condescending, “No offense, but I’m not going to put myself in that position.”

“None taken.” You took a long swig of your drink, getting a little grumpy over the fact that this seemingly serious conversation was happening now; was a Halloween party really the only time that Janet could make this happen?

Seeing the way your face turned down, Janet quickly added, “You know I won’t fit in with your new friends.”

You shrugged, taking another sip of juice, “I didn’t think so either, but it’s not so bad; Eddie certainly helps.”

Janet’s expression softened, “Yeah, but I don’t have an Eddie.”

‘I don’t either,’ you thought ironically, staring into the contents of your cup for a moment. You could feel Janet’s eyes attempting to read you, studying your features thoughtfully and empathetically.

“You actually really like him, don’t you?” She asked, the question taking you by surprise - did she know that the two of you were lying? You forced yourself to focus, meeting her eyes as if silently asking her to elaborate, “I mean, we all thought maybe you were messing with us at some point, but you’re really into him.”

“Well… yeah.” You answered dumbly, unable to contain a drunken giggle - that was the first time you had actually said so out loud without the guise of D&D to hide behind. If you hadn’t been drinking, you probably would’ve held your tongue. Under Janet’s thoughtful eyes, your cheeks grew hot, and as you considered your ever increasing crush on Eddie, you nearly sighed as you longed to wonder what he actually thought of you, too.

After what felt like an eternity - although that was probably just the alcohol talking - Janet smiled, amused by your evident longing, “You seem… different with him. In a good way, I mean.”

You downed more of your drink with something of a sad smile, but you couldn’t let her know that this relationship wasn’t real, so you hoped she hadn't noticed it. You put on your best look of confidence, “I guess, yeah. Less bitchy, that’s for sure.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, Janet looking away from your eyes, “Well, I didn’t want to put it that way…”

You studied her for a moment, feeling yourself growing a little more dizzy as the alcohol continued to slowly seep in, “Jan… can we do this another time?”

She appeared hurt, and you could’ve kicked yourself for it.

“No, I mean,” you took a breath through your nose, trying to figure out a better way of saying it, “Let’s catch up sober, you know?”

That was something you never would have suggested with a clear head, but admittedly this conversation made you realize that it was nice to have someone outside of Eddie to talk to sometimes. Sure, a couple months ago you thought that Janet was a part of the problem, that she was one of the many factors causing you to want to rip your hair out, and yet, this couple of minutes alone together was refreshing.

Janet’s smile was large and dazzling in response, and she nodded excitedly, “Maybe I’ll call you this weekend?”

You nodded back, and after a short round of farewells, Janet took off to join whoever she may have been here with. You returned to the drinks, refilling your cups before heading back out to find Eddie, hoping he hadn’t been worried over where you were.

Although the party had died down just a little, the place was still loud and the house was still just as crowded as ever. While pushing your way past people, you could feel your drunkenness throughout your body, but compared to previous parties, it seemed manageable enough, though that could change at the drop of a hat.

When you finally stepped back outside again, you were relieved to see Eddie sitting exactly where you left him, still intently focusing on the group of band kids; now, however, they were all passing around a joint, everyone’s energy a little more relaxed than when you left them. All the seats were now occupied as more people joined in on the smoke session, but you were too focused on Eddie to really notice; careful not to trip over yourself and topple into the pool, you went to join them again.

Once Eddie’s eyes found yours, the two of you smiled fondly at one another, your expression probably far too eager compared to his relaxed, stoned face. You couldn’t help but find amusement in it, eager to see how different he may act now that he was crossfaded, although he seemed to be keeping it together.

“Took you long enough.” He teased keenly once you within earshot; you shot him a chaff look before setting the drinks on the table in the middle of everyone, managing to spill one of them a little. As you cursed to yourself, Eddie laughed while studying you for a brief moment, “Did you get drunker?”

Catching the way his words slurred ever so slightly, you gave him a taunting grin with narrowed eyes, “Did you?”

You giggled as if you found your question oh-so amusing, looking around for a moment only to finally realize all the seats were taken. Your lips turned down briefly as your attention fell back towards Eddie, who raised a challenging brow at you; was that expression in regards to your observation, or was he just being goofy? And why was he challenging you, if that’s in fact what his brow was conveying?

With your own decided look, you settled into Eddie’s lap without any warning, feeling the way he tensed in surprise; you were situated so that you could continue to look at his face, drinking in his features slowly as if the others around you were all but forgotten. He stared back at you, eyes a little wide, clearly still taken aback that you made the move to get this close to him. Again, you were struck with the thought that this wouldn’t have happened if you were just a little more sober.

You must have swayed some, because Eddie settled his hand gently on your back to steady you, his eyes locked with yours as if unable to look away; you grinned at him fondly. After a few moments of deep thought and some confusion, he smiled back with a hint of nerves, before allowing his attention to drift back to the conversation that had been going on around you. In the next moment, the joint had made its way back to Eddie, and you both took quick puffs before passing it on.

You tried to follow whatever discussion was happening, but there were enough overlapping voices that after a while you could no longer tell what the subject even was; rather, it seemed that half a dozen conversations were happening all at once, everyone else seamlessly gliding between them. And somewhere amidst it all, you managed to finish both your drink and half of Eddie’s, which he didn’t seem all that interested in finishing now that he was getting high as a kite.

Once the joint had made it back to you a second time and you took a deeper drag, you dropped your head to rest atop Eddie’s shoulder, feeling emboldened by the drinks, the drugs, and the desire for him. You didn’t notice that he was watching you from the corner of his hooded, red eyes, inhaling your scent while simultaneously wondering why you were being so soft and tender with him.

Eddie’s cheek pressed a little to the crown of your head as he teased in a whisper, “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

“No.” You insisted, wanting to lift your head so you could look him in the eye, but enjoying the position you were in far too much for that. A thought crossed your mind, and you furrowed your brow at it, “Are you just trying to get out of here?”

Eddie lifted his head, allowing you to meet his dark eyes and become practically hypnotized by them. He shook his head at you simply, to which you grinned, “No… This is nice, actually.”

You leaned in close towards his face with a triumphant look, “I told you this would be fun.”

He smiled back fondly, even as he rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t let it go to your head, princess; you can’t be right all the time.”

“Just most of the time.” You taunted, realizing with confusion that one of your hands was delicately fussing with the fabric of his shirt. When did you start doing that?

Your eyes trailed down the open collar of his shirt, enjoying the sight of his skin; thoughtlessly, your hand traveled up his torso to tease at the hem of the collar, which made Eddie tense yet again. A smirk ghosted across your lips as you met his gaze again flirtatiously.

“What, afraid of touching me?” Your boldness made Eddie blanch in surprise, and from the corner of your eye you spotted the way his free hand clenched into a fist. As if to make a point, you reached for it and set it comfortably atop your thigh before returning your attentive stare to his face.

Finding his voice, Eddie licked his dry lips and responded simply, “You don’t like when people touch you.”

You didn’t miss a beat as you said, “I like when you do.”

Eddie’s heart drummed wildly in his chest; god, he wished you two weren’t crossfaded right now. He knew coming to this party meant repeating shit that happened at the last one, that it would make things even more confusing and overly complicated. Even since homecoming night he’d been nervously wondering what the hell was going on between you two; so many interactions had felt charged with things unsaid, had felt tense with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

And now this? The way you looked at him as if he were the sun, the way you touched his chest as if you didn’t want to break him? Suddenly, Eddie realized that maybe this shit wasn’t pretend anymore. If he hadn’t been quite so inebriated, he could have kept you at arm's length, could have made sure that nothing was going to happen tonight.

But Eddie wasn’t sober, and neither were you, and he was damn near ready to let just about anything happen between you two.

“Hey, Munson,” Someone urged with a nudge to Eddie’s shoulder, pulling the both of you out of your shared reverie. Eddie blinked a few times to reorient himself before looking at the kid next to him, who held out the nearly finished joint. As if in a slight daze, Eddie took it, eyes drifting back to yours while slowly bringing the joint to his mouth.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched Eddie through hooded eyes. It was as if everything was in slow motion; the way the joint glowed a beautiful orange as he deeply inhaled, chest rising as he held the smoke in and blindly offered the joint to the person next to him, too wrapped up in the way you were ogling him to pull his eyes away.

The intensity in the way Eddie held your gaze was like a magnet, and really you weren’t sure which of you leaned in first, or if you two had done so in-sync. Your hands trailed up Eddie’s torso, cupping his cheeks tenderly as his fingers squeezed hungrily into your thigh; your noses brushed, still gazing at one another before, finally, no distance was left between you.

Your lips locked in an aching, open-mouthed kiss, Eddie sighing as the smoke slowly rolled from his lungs into yours. Your grip on his face tightened as you became wrapped up in the taste of weed and booze and the smell of his skin, his hands possessively clinging to you as if afraid to let go now that he had you.

As smoke began to trail from your nose, your lips became firm and insistent against Eddie’s, a desperate little sound humming in your throat. A rush of warmth flooded through you and pooled at your center as Eddie held you even tighter, kissing you as if you were the goddamn air he breathed, with a sloppy fervor that made your head spin. His lips were intoxicating, more so than anything you’d consumed all night, and your fingers began to tangle in his hair with a near lustful aggression, to which he moaned lowly into the kiss.

“Jesus, will you two get a room,” Someone in the group commented in a tone that was both disgusted and amused, causing laughter to peel out amongst your peers. You were almost too consumed by Eddie to even notice, but luckily he had enough sense about him to pull his lips from yours with a slight pop, his eyes shooting in the direction of whoever interrupted you.

Catching your breath, you stared at Eddie’s face as if to steady yourself, practically dizzy. Slowly, you looked around the group; some of them were trying to ignore your disgusting display of affection, some were too high to even notice in the first place, though a couple of people stared back at you with varying degrees of interest. The boy that you assumed interrupted you had a bit of a twist to his brow, and so you made a defiant face back at him; Eddie huffed out a slight laugh at it, which drew your lusty eyes back to him.

His stare was so damn dark and intense that it nearly took you aback, eyes practically black with desire; aside from that, you couldn’t quite guess what thoughts and feelings were swirling about his head. You studied his face for a moment, fingers delicately tracing their way back down his cheeks and neck to rest comfortably atop his shoulders; on the small of your back, his hand twitched a little.

Eddie continued to eye you closely, gaze carving a path of complicated desire from your head to your toe as if determined to see each and every bit of you. You were shockingly speechless, unable to even find your words thanks to the nerves in your stomach, mind swirling with weed and alcohol and a conflict of want. When Eddie’s eyes returned to yours yet again, bloodshot and hooded, there was a decided look about them.

“Come on.” He said in a husky voice; you gave a faint nod in response before rising to your feet, swaying a little upon standing. Eddie’s hands quickly grabbed yours to keep you steady, concern flashing across his eyes at how you nearly toppled over; his thumbs brushed the back of your hands in small circles, something so tender that it surprised you.

You tugged on Eddie’s hands, a silent indicator that you were fine and it was his turn to stand. As he rose to his feet, a hint of a devilish smile flashed across his lips, and he spared a quick look around the group; you could see that, even inebriated, he was about to act the showman that he usually was.

“Till next time, ladies and gents.” He said in lieu of a farewell, his tone both suggestive and teasing, as he let you pull him away from the crowd with a giggle.

Making your way back into the house, you barely noticed that the party was slowly beginning to dwindle, barely noticed that the music had gotten a little quieter and the smoky haze wasn’t nearly as thick; your mind was far too preoccupied with Eddie, wanting to drag his lips back to yours as soon as possible.

As Eddie took the lead and began to guide you past other partygoers, you realized you didn’t know what his plan was or where he was taking you; considering that he’d never been to the Hunter house before, you figured he didn’t have a clue either. You held firm to his arm as Eddie led you down a hall, a drunken smirk crossing your lips as he looked back at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

He pushed open an ajar door, pulling you into what must have been an office considering the heavy, rich wooden desk and bookshelves. Closing the door behind you, Eddie didn’t bother with the lights, guiding you blindly until your rear bumped the edge of the desk; he braced his palms on  either side of you, pinning you there. His head dipped down close to yours, foreheads practically brushing as he looked between your eyes despite the darkness, once more trying to make sense of something.

From this close, you could make out the curve of Eddie’s lips and the shadowed panes of his face; you bit the inside of your cheek, nervous yet eager, waiting to see what he planned to do or say now that he had you alone. Suddenly, you were feeling a hint more sober, as if the crowd was your safety blanket that had been abruptly taken from you, leaving you to fend for yourself under Eddie's intense stare.

“Why do you keep kissing me?” He asked in a low, almost needy voice that made you shiver, drawing your eyes back to his.

You licked your lips, torn now that you were confronted with the question so blatantly. The moments ticked by slowly as you ran through the endless ways of answering that; as if you could feel Eddie raising an impatient brow at you, you took a deep breath in preparation.

“Because I like to.” You answered oh-so simply, and yet the weight of the words felt heavy as ever between you two. You could hear the sharp breath Eddie took in response, knowing his eyes still bore into yours despite you struggling to make out his face in the dark. 

“Why?” It was asked as if he were at odds with himself, as if there was so much more he wanted to say but chose not you. 

 You dropped your gaze, staring at what you could see of Eddie's chest in the darkness, swallowing nervously; you were so ill-prepared to be having this discussion. Was there something in the air, because this was the second time you were cornered for a serious talk despite it being Halloween night.

Feeling your apprehension, Eddie sighed as if he understood exactly what was going on in your head. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot on your face, and you took a deep inhale at just how close to his lips were to yours; was he taunting you, antagonizing you so that you'd finally explain yourself to him? You sighed at the sensation of his lips needily ghosting against yours, feeling the way he smiled at the sound. Suddenly, you wished that you’d made one more stop in the kitchen - a shot would do wonders for your nerves right about now.

God, the temptation to reach up and kiss him again was insane, despite another part of you wanting to retreat from this entire conversation, far too nervous and worked up. It was as if Eddie could tell you were growing antsy, because he moved in even closer, pinning you against the desk; your breath hitched at the feel of his body practically on top of yours.

“Gonna leave me hanging, princess?” He asked in a low voice. You leaned back a little as if that could somehow create distance between the two of you, but you already knew it was a moot point. Eddie’s arms moved in even closer on either side of you, his knuckles grazing against your hips as he kept you trapped. In a meager effort to bolster yourself, you crossed your arms and tried to raise your chin confidently, despite the wild beating of your heart in your chest; you could just see the glint of light off Eddie’s teeth as he smiled at your nerves.

You finally found your voice, trying to sound brave, “Why do you kiss me back?”

A laugh sounded in Eddie’s throat, as if the answer was blatantly obvious and he didn’t have to say it. He shook his head, eyes shining in the sliver of moonlight as he looked at you; his expression was deathly serious, and yet, you could see a pleased look as he responded, “Because I like to.”

The repeating of your own words made you shiver, warmth pooling in your center as you sharply inhaled. Your arms slacked, falling to your sides, fingertips brushing against Eddie’s forearms. You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat as his answer began to feel heavier and heavier the more you thought about it.

Did he just… admit that he felt the same way as you? And did he understand all the implications in your own confession? Or had you not made yourself clear enough, did Eddie misunderstand this as purely a physical thing going on between you two? The overthinking was already driving you mad.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out - you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, really, because you had about a hundred things already swirling around in your head. Eddie was still so close, his body heat practically enveloping you, his mouth mere inches away, taunting you and enticing you.

Licking your lips, you finally managed to ask in a tone that was both wanting and uneasy, “Then… this isn’t fake?”

You could hear the smile in Eddie’s voice as he whispered, “You tell me, princess.”

You practically shivered again, tempted to drag his lips back to yours hungrily, but your head was still spinning. Every interaction with Eddie up to this point suddenly came under your scrutiny - each and every glance and laugh and brush of your hands, all the time you spent together, all the things said between you.

Suddenly, you wondered if this had ever truthfully been fake, considering that, in a way, you and Eddie had gone through the exact motions anyone would when they started dating. The time spent alone, getting to know one another, sharing secrets with each other, having in-jokes and things only the two of you could laugh at - was that not dating? Hell, even the times you kissed - whether drunken or for show - were never truly false, at least not on your part.

Eddie could feel all your nerves and anxieties spilling out of you, a tension building the longer you considered everything, the longer you hesitated to answer; it was making him apprehensive, too, wondering if maybe he fucked up just now, wondering if this wasn’t the right time or way to admit his feelings. He tried so hard to be confident about it, to make things a little more clear, but why was he starting to feel like he fumbled that?

You laughed smally, unexpectedly, causing Eddie to furrow his brow despite knowing you couldn’t see his face in the dark. Although you were edgy and tense, you tipped your head back a little, knowing that you were but a breath away from Eddie as you laughed airily again as if amused by something. Feeling the question in his energy, you bit the inside of your cheek before speaking again.

“Should’ve known that D&D game was suspicious…” You whispered with good humor, shaking your head as you recalled the way you two had used the safety of your characters to communicate with one another. Eddie, too, chuckled smally, his forehead unintentionally brushing against yours as he looked down.

“I figured you were just playing along.”

“No.” You murmured, faintly shaking your head again. Now that you were already being vulnerable, you plucked up a little more courage, taking a deep breath before asking, “What was that song?”

Eddie’s curls tickled against your skin, “Song?”

You smiled tensely, “The, uh… song from that night in the van.”

Eddie straightened up with surprise, though you instantly assumed you fucked up somehow by asking. Your eyes grew wide, half expecting him to back away from you, hands about ready to reach out and grab him before he could make a retreat. But instead, he chuckled devilishly, turning his face up towards the ceiling as a deep exhale passed between his lips.

“Oh, I knew it.” Eddie seemed to be muttering to himself before trying to find your eyes again in the dark; there was a sudden jittery quality to his energy, a sudden electricity sparking off of him, “I knew you remembered.”

And before you had the chance to answer him, Eddie swooped in, hungrily capturing your lips with his own in a fierce kiss as his body pinned you against the desk. Your heart stuttered wildly, momentarily frozen in surprise before your senses came back to you.

Feverish and needy, you flung your arms tightly around Eddie’s neck, kissing him with all the pent up desire that you’d been harboring for weeks. Your nails scratched at the base of his skull, causing him to moan while tightly winding his arms around your middle, hands firm and greedy against the small of your back. His touch was fucking intoxicating, body warm against yours, lips desperate and zealous; it put your mind in a frenzy, your senses on high as a coil began to tighten in your stomach.

You broke away for a split second, hopping up onto the desk before dragging Eddie’s lips back to yours as if you needed him to breathe, spreading your knees so that he could slot himself between them. He sighed achingly at the way your thighs tightened on either side of him, your ankles hooking around the back of his legs as if to lock him there.

Eddie’s kisses were fierce and full of yearning, fingers digging into your skin as he slipped his tongue past your lips; with an eager moan, you rolled your body against his, hands winding tightly in his hair. You could feel the way his breath hitched, which only encouraged you to grind your hips again, nice and deep and slow; a groan rumbled in his throat at your taunting, hands flexing as if he wanted to touch you everywhere all at once.

God, you wished that you’d pulled your head out of your ass sooner so you could've been kissing Eddie unabashed all this time; you fit together so damn perfectly, bodies melding together and lips locked with matched intensity as if you were made for each other. Your center felt tight and your toes curled, your knees weak and mouth needy as you clung to Eddie as if you planned on never letting go.

Is this how it was supposed to feel - passionate and untamed and ardent, as if you were fucking burning for him? You’d never wanted anything the way that you craved Eddie right now, and this mad desire was making your head spin.

Eddie tried to pull his lips from yours, but you hungrily gave chase, continuing to kiss him even as he smiled and laughed at your desperation; he cupped your cheeks tenderly in his hands just so he could hold you back, gaze attempting to find yours in the dark of the room. You caught your breath together, chests heaving deeply, the sound of the party just on the other side of the door bringing you back to yourself.

Sliding his hands down your neck and arms, Eddie grabbed your wrists and tugged you off the desk, blindly guiding you through the dark. He captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, causing you to laugh as the two of you fumbled about the room until he evidently found what he was searching for - Eddie fell back into a chair and dragged you along with him. You nearly gasped in surprise as you plopped into his lap, readjusting until you were straddling him, all the while refraining from breaking out of the kiss.

Eddie’s hungry moans and wandering hands made you shiver, pressing desperately against his body and kissing him deeply. You rolled your hips rousingly, the twitch of his cock causing a delighted sound to hum in your throat; Eddie’s fingers dug into your waist, holding you tight as he pressed up against you with a hint of trepidation, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself. You laughed faintly at his uncertainty, swiping your tongue along his lower lip encouragingly as you clung a little tighter to him.

You rutted your hips again, slower and more assertive, practically sighing at the feel of Eddie growing harder beneath you. The desire for him stirred memories of your wet dream, moaning as you felt that coil winding tight again, pressing yourself more firmly against Eddie; he muttered longingly into your lips, words incoherent and broken up by the severity of your kiss.

You pulled away from Eddie’s lips, pressing your forehead to his as you caught your breath and twisted your fingers in his hair. Slowly, you grinded your body against his, each roll of your hips deep and wanton, feeling your desire already growing slick between your legs. The moan that left your mouth was vulgar when Eddie pressed himself up against you, your head tipping back at your body’s eager response.

Eddie’s lips forged a hot trail down your neck, one hand sliding up the back of your shirt while the other squeezed your thigh; it was as if electricity was shooting through you, faintly gasping as his teeth nipped uncertainly against your skin. Emboldened, you began rutting your hips against Eddie’s cock at a tantalizing pace, the friction so damn good even between all these layers of fabric. When he moaned against your neck, it only made you grind a little harder, toes curling as you tugged eagerly at his hair.

Had the weeks of build up really made you this sensitive? You were fully clothed and dry humping, yet already your pussy was clenching, your arousal growing with each breath and kiss and grind as if you were a goddamn virgin. And the way Eddie clung to you, the way he moaned and sighed with such yearning, was making it that much harder to keep it together - his hitched breaths and grabbing hands only encouraged you to chase that insatiable desire of yours.

You impatiently untangled your fingers from Eddie’s hair, fussing with the buttons down the front of your shirt, grumbling a little when you struggled with some of them; you could feel the way he smiled into your kiss with amusement. Once the shirt had been discarded, you excitedly cupped Eddie’s cheeks, kissing him deeply and earnestly, body pressed against his with such pining that one might think you were afraid he’d disappear. His hands were hot against your back, sliding from your shoulder blades down to your waist, his fingertips seemingly memorizing the feel of your skin; when they grazed the sensitive spot on your lower back, you arched into him with a sharp inhale, and so he held you even tighter.

You broke away from Eddie’s lips again, gazing down at him through hooded eyes, finally able to make out his features a little better thanks to the moonlight; he looked back up at you with such awe that your grinding stuttered, taken aback by the way he drank you in. His parted lips were inviting you back in for a kiss, but you were far too enthralled in the sight of him, enjoying the lustful look on his face as you tried to find a deeper rhythm for your hips.

The whispering of your name in Eddie’s mouth made you gasp amorously, his tone low and doting like it was a goddamn prayer. Your hands held firmer on either side of his neck as you tried not to come undone right then and there, so damn easily that it was near maddening. Eddie’s head dropped back against the chair cushion when your grinding became a little more feverish, hands gripping your hips so tight that you thought it may bruise. You pressed your hot center even more salaciously against the thick outline of his cock, the both of you moaning even more shamelessly in unison.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head once you found that perfect angle of your hips, the stimulation against your clit making you gasp more wildly and cling to Eddie more desperately. Your toes began to curl as your back arched, keeping at your erotic rhythm now that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer at near whiplash speed. Eddie, too, tried to match the grinding of his hips to yours, chasing after the mounting pleasure with deep moans and clinging hands, incoherent words of rapture falling past his lips.

“Fuck, wait-- wait--” Eddie abruptly dug his fingers into your skin, holding firm in an attempt to stop the rutting of your hips, to push you away from his cock. You whined indecently at the loss of friction, searching Eddie’s face in the dark with a confused - even a little galled - furrow of your brow. He panted heavily, head still resting back and hands still holding you desperately as he tried to compose himself.

A breathy laugh passed Eddie’s lips before he finally lifted his head to meet your eyes, a hooded look of contentment across his face. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile as one of his hands trailed up your side, fingers gentle against your neck and jaw as he studied you; your expression was still a little confused and selfish as you took him in.

“You got me way too close,” He said airily, tone amused yet still lustful; he took another deep, grounding breath, “really didn’t want to make a mess of myself at a damn party.”

Eddie laughed again almost as if he was in disbelief, and you couldn’t help but giggle as well, grabbing either side of his face and holding him tenderly. The way he looked up at you with some kind of amazement made you squirm, his unabashed look of awe feeling nearly unwarranted. You licked your lips and swallowed, finding your voice again.

“Let’s go, then.” You answered simply, tone husky with desire; you leaned in a little closer, lips hovering just an inch away from his. Eddie’s fingers flexed against you, his sigh brushing across your cheeks. You pulled him in for one more eager, firm kiss, as if you needed it to hold you over till the two of you were long gone from this Halloween party.

.

.

addt. Author's Note | chapter 16, my beloved 😭🖤 We've only got another chapter and epilogue after this, so I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts~

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@delilaaahhh @dreamerjj @eddiernunson @em0220 @feralgoblinbabe

@frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck

@kthomps914 @littlexdeaths @lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00

@maskofmirrors @mewchiili @miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson

@moonisu @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @ollieolive

@rach5ive @rcailleachcola @sapphire4082 @sassidykassidy @sav12321

@seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19 @swiftsgirlfriend

@teethvenom @tvseriesobsessed @twihard28 @v1per1ne @welcometohellsock

@whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[allllium]

I really love your fics!!! They’re seriously just 10/10. Could you maybe do something with Jason Todd getting a crush on the new vigilante in town? Or him meeting his childhood best friend after being resurrected (possibly him saving them as Red Hood) and just SIMPING over how much they’ve changed since last time he saw them. Like, his mind just going “minemineminemine” and “Yes, I am now a married man”

Love your work!!! ❤️❤️

Miss You

~ Fluff, WC: 1,119

~ Jason meets you again

Jason had a best friend, before he died that is. Ever since he came back he's felt alone, no one being able to fill the hole left when he lost you. Lost you isn't the right word. He can go to you at any time, replace the friendship he craves to have again, but he won't. Call it pride, call it self-doubt, call it whatever you want but he'll never do anything to fix it. Not unless he has too.

You're walking along a strip of dark buildings. Not a smart choice but definitely the fastest to take after a long night shift. The only thing you want to do is fall into your bed and sleep a whole day away. Living in Gotham means you are no longer surprised or scared by the constant yelling and booming noises. Most of them are made by teenagers doing dumb things with their friends or random people deciding to fight in the streets. They don't last too long considering the millions of vigilanties that are always running around.

But tonight as you walk by multiple allies, on a dark street, near where you know multiple self declared "gangs" hang out, everything is silent. Somewhere else, anywhere else, that'd be a good thing. But right now it gives you the chills. Every step you take feels like it's being watched, no, like it's being analyzed. Like something or someone is trying to memorize every move you make. A gaze you somewhat recognize.

Jason doesn't mean to be a creep. He really doesn't. But he can't look away. After he died he never thought he'd see you again. Everyone told him you stopped showing up to dinners and didn't answer any of their calls. It was hard for him to think of never seeing you again, he didn't know a time in his life when he didn't know you. Now he finds himself sitting on a windowsill on the opposite side of the street, unable to look away from you. You've changed a lot since he last saw you, but somehow you still look exactly the same. Jason has never had a crush on you before. Of course he always wondered what being with you would be like, and he's thought a lot about how amazing it would be to kiss you, not to mention the hundreds of times you've had him blushing like a crazy person. But he's never had a crush. That'd be insane.

You continue walking around as if nothings bothering you. The last thing you want to worry about is someone watching you. It's probably nothing. On the other side of the street you can hear thumping every couple of feet. It doesn't take a genius to know the sound is coming from someone jumping from roof to roof. You look over just in time to see someone land on their feet. It's obviously one of the vigilanties, guessing by their size and stature.

Jason feels his heart almost stop when you look directly at him. He knows you don't know it's him, how could you after all this time and in the dark, but it makes him panic just a little bit. You'd think after everything he's had to deal with he wouldn't freak over such a small thing. It's not until he sees you raise your eyebrows expectantly that he starts making his way off the roof and towards you in the street. He can't believe how much you've changed, how amazing you look.

You watch intently as he comes closer. It only takes a moment before he's standing face to face with you.

"You better have a damn good reason for following me."

He doesn't answer.

"Hello? If you're going be a creep at least explain why."

All you can here is heavy breathing through his mask.

"Okay this is just weird." You begin to walk away but he grabs your arm to stop you. "Did you really just grab me?"

"I'm sorry." You don't recognize his voice but something is pulling at you. You let out an angry breath.

"Are you gonna explain yourself yet?"

"I wasn't trying to be a creep I promise." He starts to defend himself but trails off. "You walked by some bad people earlier and I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"Mhm. What else?" You cross your arms over your chest, not believing he gave the whole explanation.

He pauses again. For a second you believe he won't answer. "You look good."

"I thought you weren't trying to be a creep, what the fuck?" You take a big step away from the man standing to your front.

"No no no no that's not what I meant." He tries to come closer to you but you take another step back.

"I don't care what you meant, that's weird man."

"Where do you live?"

"Okay I'm leaving now."

"No wait, again not how I meant for that to sound. I just mean I can give you a better explanation when we're not standing in the middle of the street." He rambles.

"Fine, but I expect no more excuses."

You reluctantly show him to way to your house. Now that you've been closer to him you recognize him as Red Hood, a newer vigilantie. He's a good guy, he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Here we are." You announce as you step up to unlock your door. Red Hood follows you a little too close.

"It's nice." He says quietly, almost as if he's unsure of his voice.

"Thanks. Now explain." The second the door is shut you demand to know more.

"I'm not really sure how to say this."

"Well you don't really have a choice do you?"

"No I guess not. I've never been able to say no to you." He makes a sound that almost seems like a laugh.

"Never? Do we know each other?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna need more than a single word."

Instead of saying anything he takes off his mask Suddenly every makes sense. Or as much as it can when you're dead best friend is standing in front of you.

"Jason." You smile.

"Hi. This isn't how I wanted to do this."

"No? How did you?" You take a step closer to him.

"Well to be honest I wasn't. I really didn't expect you to know I was there."

"You aren't very quiet." You turn away and take a seat on your couch.

"I should probably work on that." He sits next to you. You look amazing."

"Thank you Jay."

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I will later. Right now I just want to sit, I've missed you."

"I miss you too."

[ohburgee]

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Noli x Myth-Hunter!Reader

tw: implied physical violence, threatening behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior an: i can't stop thinking about Noli so i decide to make a fic of him then i remember when i was a myth hunter before with no knowledge about ways of hunting, try to investigate Noli because i was interested on his myth story. summary: you are a myth hunter deicide to visit Noli once again after you heard about him disappear and no news about him, you decide to check him on his place when you got captured and teleported to this mysterious place.

You feel a sharp pain in your head as you try to clear your blurry vision. Slowly, you sit up from the ground. Once your vision begins to clear, you look around, confused and disoriented.

You don’t remember much, but one thing is certain; you were captured. Now, you’re in some unfamiliar place.

Another strange, mysterious location... You rise to your feet, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You’re used to this, these weird, unexplained situations. As a myth hunter, you’ve learned to face whatever lies ahead, even if it means risking your life.

You begin walking, carefully observing your surroundings like you always do. It’s quiet. No signs of people. You’re unsure of where you are, but you keep going.

Eventually, you reach what appears to be the center of a map. Behind a large, untouched stone, you spot a broken generator. You approach it cautiously and begin fixing it. Just as you're about to finish, you see movement, someone running.

Two figures come into view. They stop when they notice you, just as confused as you are. You look at them with suspicion while continuing to work on the generator.

“Who are you two?” you ask.

“I’m Elliot, and this is Shedletsky,” one of them replies. You study their faces, still unsure.

“Where am I?” you ask, trying to piece together the situation.

They exchange confused glances. Before they can answer, a loud thud echoes nearby. Elliot grabs your wrist, and the three of you sprint into a nearby cave.

“I swear, what the hell is going on!?” you demand.

Elliot cautiously peeks outside. “Answer me,” you insist.

“We’re in a survival game,” Elliot says. “We have to survive until the round ends.”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you mutter, pacing in a small circle as you try to recall what happened. That’s when you notice a shadow approaching from outside the cave.

You turn to Elliot and point toward a broken hole in the wall. He quickly understands and pulls Shedletsky with him into hiding.

You duck behind a large rock just as someone slowly enters the cave. You hold your breath, heart pounding. Searching for a distraction to get out, you spot some small rocks nearby. You toss one to the opposite side of the cave. The figure in purple-glitching smoke pauses and turns toward the sound. You throw another rock, drawing their attention further away.

Once the coast is clear, you rush over and whisper for Elliot and Shedletsky to move. Grabbing them, you all sprint for the exit, until the figure notices and acts.

A tendril shoots toward you three. Without thinking, you shove Elliot and Shedletsky out of the way. Then you freeze.

Your eyes widen.

It’s Noli.

How? Was he the one who captured you and brought you here?

He gazes at you, amused, smiling in recognition. He remembers you.

You hear Elliot and Shedletsky calling you. You glance back at them, but Noli’s gaze shifts to the two and he begins to pursue them. “Run!” you yell, and they do.

You chase after him. You know Noli better than they do. He’s worse, far worse, than any other myth you’ve encountered.

But you lose them in the chase. When you finally catch up, your heart drops. Elliot and Shedletsky are suspended by tendrils, hanging upside down.

You kick at the tendrils, trying to free them, when suddenly, everything goes dark.

Your vision clouds with thick, suffocating fog. You look around, trying to see through the haze. “I know it’s you,” you mutter, spinning to catch a glimpse of him.

You hear footsteps, then laughter. It rings in your ears. This is new. You don’t remember Noli having this kind of power.

Then you see him, smiling.

“Hello, my lovely hunter,” he greets, and tendrils coil around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

“I’m so glad you arrived safely, no injuries from the teleport,” he says as your vision clears, revealing his new form.

“What do you want, Noli!?” you snap, struggling in the tendrils.

He chuckles, circling you like a predator. His gaze is intense.

“When I was offered something greater, I took it,” he says. “The Forsaken made me stronger than a mere myth.”

You blink, confused.

“I’m no longer just a myth. I’ve become something far more powerful, this new body, this power… and I accepted the role of killer in this game.”

He draws you closer with the tendrils and gently brushes his hand against your cheek.

“I love this new me. The thrill of hunting, the fun of killing, chasing prey like a true predator.”

He laughs again, clearly enjoying every second.

“And now, with my favorite myth hunter here… doesn’t that sound fun?” he whispers before suddenly kissing your cheek.

“You’re no longer out there investigating and searching for answers. You’re stuck here with me now. And I’ll make sure you see me.”

[reiding-writing]

Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

ACCEPTABLE GREETINGS — SPENCER REID!

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

spencer reid x gn!reader | fluff | 1.5k | masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

[captainsophiestark]

Picture Perfect

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict's childhood best friend, who he's recently started courting, notices he's been a bit off lately and decides to see if there's anything she can do to help.

Word Count: 3,045

Category: Fluff, a little bit of Angst

A/N: It's been a minute since I rewatched season 2, so I may have the timing wrong a bit. For the purposes of this fic, though, Benedict finds out that Anthony paid to make sure he got into art school at the same time that they're all at the Bridgerton's country estate.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Something was wrong with my best friend.

I could tell from the minute I saw him, as his mind was clearly somewhere else. He also gave his brother Anthony a colder shoulder than usual, which I knew Anthony likely deserved, but that Benedict rarely gave him. It must've been something pretty bad.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to drag Benedict somewhere and get some answers out of him, followed by doing whatever I could to cheer him up. But unfortunately for the both of us, despite having grown up together, now that we were both adults in society and he had recently started courting me, we were no longer technically allowed to be alone together. Things were usually a bit looser when it was just the Bridgertons and I, but while I'd joined them for a trip to their country estate, another family had joined us as well, tying my hands more than usual.

Still, I managed to corner him slightly away from the rest of the group after dinner that night, when I'd first noticed something off. He'd been on his way upstairs, rather than joining the rest of us in the parlor after dinner, and I managed to get in front of him quickly enough to make him stop in the hallway.

"Benedict," I said, trying to keep my voice low. He let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't move to step past me, instead fixing me with a tired stare. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "It's... nothing."

I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Benedict Bridgerton, I have known you since the age of five. There is no chance of that terrible lie convincing me of anything, besides perhaps that I made the right decision about checking on you."

He sighed again, this time even heavier, and when he met my gaze again it was with an empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You remeber I shared my excitement with you about being accepted into art school?"

"Of course! Don't tell me something went wrong..."

He shook his head. "The opposite. Apparently my dear brother took it upon himself to make sure I got in, offering a bribe to secure my acceptance. Yet again, I fail to step out of my family's shadow and generate an accomplishment of my own, without their name and money securing it for me."

I frowned and reached out to touch his arm, but Eloise's voice from the other room promising to find where I'd wandered off to broke the moment. Benedict mustered that hollow smile again, then finally stepped around me.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry about me. Just go enjoy the rest of your evening."

I frowned after him, but he didn't look back as he climbed the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. I briefly debated following him, but Eloise's hand on my elbow broke me from that thought.

"Y/N, what on earth are you doing out here? You're missing Kate and Anthony sparring over something trivial again."

I forced a smile onto my face that was hopefully more convincing than Benedict's and turned to face Eloise.

"Well, that's certainly something I don't want to miss. Let's go."

Eloise still looked like she had questions, but I didn't give her room to ask them as I joined the rest of our group in the parlor. Benedict stayed on my mind for the rest of the night, although I tried to hide my worry. Hopefully he'd been right about himself, and would be feeling better in the morning.

*****************

Benedict clearly wasn't feeling better in the morning. I was witnessing the man I loved having an existential crisis, and by the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit by an watch anymore, society and the Ton and the gossips be damned.

I spent the next hour gathering and setting up the things I'd need, then went to find Benedict. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the house, so I asked Eloise, who directed me to his bedroom.

I'd been in his bedroom before, of course, since we'd practically grown up together. But now that we'd started on the path to being something else to each other, with my heart registsering significantly more romantic feelings for the man Benedict had become, I found myself slightly nerovous as I stood outside his door. Still, I forced myself to ignore the nerves as best I could. Benedict was hurting, so everything else had to be put on hold while I helped him.

I knocked on his door, pretending my faster-than-normal heartbeat didn't exist as I waited for a response. That became much harder to accomplish when Benedict opened the door, his shirt far more open than normal and without anything over it, hair looking a rumpled mess. My heart did backflips, despite me mentally telling it to calm down.

"Y/N! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. I must look a mess-"

"No, not at all!" I said much too quickly. "You look, uh... very nice."

The familiar lopsided smile I loved so much appeared on Benedict's face as he leaned on the doorframe before me. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar spark of mischief that I loved so dearly igniting in his eyes, and for the first time in more than a day, he looked to be slightly back to himself.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear you think so. What brings you to my door, then?"

"You haven't seemed to be doing very well since you got the news about Anthony. And don't try to deny it, I know you too well. So, I thought I'd come find you and try to help cheer you up."

Benedict's eyebrow rose again as he crossed his arms.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I'll show you. But we're going to have to be a bit sneaky about leaving."

Benedict's mood lifted the moment he found out we were going to sneak out of the house together. We'd been regular trouble makers as children, sneaking out for adventures at least once a week, but since we'd both grown up that had basically come to a stop. Now, as I took his hand and dragged him along behind me and we ran through the countryside and left Bridgerton House in our wake, I couldn't stop a wild laugh from bubbling out of my chest. I'd missed this much more than I'd wanted to admit.

"Where are we going?" Benedict called, his own voice breathy and laced with laughter as we ran. I just shot him a grin back over my shoulder.

"You'll see!"

He huffed, but didn't protest as he followed after me. Finally, after winding through the woods and climbing a rather steep hill, we reached the spot I'd spent so long making nice this morning.

This hilltop looked out over the countryside stretching beautifully below us, even better now as the sun had started to get a bit lower in the sky. Waiting for us was a picnic blanket spread out in the grass with all of our favorite foods, wine, and an easel with art supplies set up right next to it. I dropped Benedict's hand as we came to a stop, instead turning to face him with a grin.

"Well? What do you think?"

He stared at everything I'd laid out, mouth open slightly in shock. His brow furrowed when he saw the canvas, and he turned back to me.

"What is all this?"

"It's a picnic, for the two of us," I said. "To watch the scenery and the sunset together without the pressures of society or being a Bridgerton to bring us down. The easel is optional–we can pack it away right now if you want to. But you told me you think Anthony's the reason you got into art school, and I don't agree. I've seen your work, and I know just how good it is. You got in on merit, Benedict. But I know I can't just say that and have you believe it, so I brought some supplies here so you can prove it, if you want to. Paint this moment for the two of us, and I'll swear on our relationship and everything I hold dear to be honest about what I think. Completely, totally, brutally honest."

Benedict's eyebrow quirked again.

"Well, I don't know if brutal is completely necessary..."

"I mean it, Ben. I hate to see you like this, doubting yourself. So if there's something I can do to counter Anthony's idiotic meddling, I'd like to."

"And what if..." He cleared his throat, emotion swirling in his gorgeous brown eyes as he met my gaze. "What if the truth would only serve to enforce what I know? That Anthony's meddling and money is the only reason I've gotten where I am."

I shook my head. "That won't happen-"

"Y/N." I stopped, biting my lip and forcing myself to meet Ben's stare again. He took a few steps forward until we were right in front of each other, then took my hands gently in his own. "What if it does?"

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Then I will keep my word and tell you so. One way or another, I will tell you the truth, even if it may not be what I want to tell you. I swear it, Ben."

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face. We stayed like that for a few long moments, and briefly, I thought Benedict might make a move to do something I never though he'd do with the Ton hovering over both our shoulders whenever we were together. But then he sighed, a smile returning to his face as he stepped away.

"Alright then. I believe you, and I value your opinion. And since you went to all the trouble to drag these supplies up here in the first place... I may as well get started."

I beamed at him. "I'll pour us some wine."

"Please."

When Benedict first sat down at his canvas, he kept fidgeting nervously, his hands hovering and twitching over various paints and brushes as he second-guessed his decisions. But slowly, as I kept up a stream of conversataion, supplying him with food and drink for fuel as he needed it, I noticed him beginning to relax.

"This is nice," I mused, leaning back on the picnic blanket and looking out at the scenery as Benedict worked. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky than when we'd left, which Benedict had grumbled about as it impacted his painting. Still, the golden light, soft breeze, and warm, fresh air felt like heaven to me.

"I agree," he said, not taking his eyes away from his easel. "I missed running off on adventures with you at the drop of a hat."

"So did I. But, hopefully... we may be able to get back to that again sometime soon."

Benedict looked over at me from his easel, a rougish grin on his face.

"If I didn't know better, Lady Y/L/N, I would think you were boardering on making me a marriage proposal."

I faced forward and closed my eyes under the guise of feeling the sun, trying to ignore my heart pumping frantically in my chest.

"Well. Fortunately for us both, you do know better. And it's not as if you're some strange man I met at court. You're... Ben. My best friend."

"I never said I wouldn't like it, did I? It would be an honor to be proposed to by you."

I cracked one eye open, turning my head to face Benedict with a grin. He wasn't looking at me, his stare focused on his canvas, his face completely serious. My heart stopped threatening to explode out of my chest, and instead settled into the unique, glowing warmth of love I felt whenever Benedict and I were together.

"I love you, Ben," I said, my voice soft and quiet. He stopped his work completely to turn and look at me, a soft smile on his face.

"I love you too. Very, very much." We held each others' stares for a moment, soaking in the comfort and joy of being together, and then Benedict's smile turned into a more edged grin. "It's a good thing we feel so strongly, since we may just be forced into an earlier marriage than planned to avoid a scandal after disappearing for an entire afternoon and evening together."

I huffed and waved him off. "Fortunately, I predict your brother will be accidentally helping us and making up for causing this crisis of confidence in the first place. He and Miss Kate Sharma are so ridiculous and dramatic together, I highly doubt anyone will notice we're gone."

Benedict chuckled, turning back to his work to scan it one last time before finally setting down his paintbrush. He took a deep breath, then stood and offered a hand to me.

"I've finished," he announced as I took his hand. He pulled my to my feet, but instead of looking at the painting, my eyes stayed fixed on him. We were almost chest to chest, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and darting eyes just how nervous he was about my verdict. "Remember, you promised me honesty."

"And honesty you will get."

Finally, I turned from Benedict to the canvas he'd been working on all afternoon. I'd resisted peeking before now at his request, so I wouldn't have any bias from watching his process. Fortunately, just as I'd predicted, his work was magnificent.

"Benedict..." I breathed as I took in the soft lines and vibrant colors before me. It perfectly captured how I felt looking out at the valley before us; it captured the gorgeous scenery, yes, but it also infused everything with a bit of magic that I only felt in this space with him. "This is absolutely incredible."

Benedict came around to stand next to me, arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head.

"Now please don't forget, you promised me honesty."

"I am being honest! Benedict, this is fantastic. The way you capture the myriad of different shades of the light shining across the valley, the seamless lines giving the world a slightly hazy, dreamlike look, and the way you've left the paint a bit messier with the clouds, to make it look like they're moving? It's all perfect, Ben. And masterful. It's a picture of the valley, yes, but it looks like it's alive. And you somehow managed to capture what it feels like to be here in the moment together, the sun on our faces, with each other even when we're not supposed to be, in a truly special way. You're an incredibly talented artist, and I'd be saying that even if you were a complete stranger that I didn't particularly like."

He snorted, then after a second, wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. I leaned into him immediately, sighing a bit as he leaned his head against mine.

"I have a hard time believing you'd say all that to a stranger you didn't like."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed without letting me go. A smile spread on my own face despite myself.

"Alright, maybe I wouldn't say all that to a stranger I didn't like. But I'd say it about their work when they couldn't hear me, probably to you. My point stands, Ben. You are a very skilled and talented artist. Anthony isn't the reason you got into that school. You are."

His chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath, and then finally, I felt him nod.

"Thank you. I can't promise it will always be easy for me to always believe it, but... I'll try to remember your words, and not my brother's, from now on."

"Good. And if you feel down again, you can always come to me. I'll always be there for you, Benedict, whenever you need me."

"And I you, my love," he said, moving down to whisper the words in my ear as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, too. He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into his chest for a moment before turning around in his arms to face him.

The beautiful, kind smile I'd fallen in love with stared back at me, along with his warm brown eyes. I smiled too, then finally stopped ignoring my racing heart and decided to continue the theme of ignoring the Ton and what they might say.

I leaned into Benedict, closing the distance between us with a glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Both of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away.

"Y/N... if anyone found out..."

I smiled. "They won't. Besides, they'd just make us follow through on something we're already planning, anyway."

Benedict huffed a laugh, his eyelids fluttering a bit as he looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real. Then, his arms tightened around my waist, and he leaned in even closer. I closed my eyes, feeling Benedict stop just a hair's breadth away from my lips.

"Are you sure-"

I closed the distance myself before he could continue. Benedict smiled into the kiss a moment later, pulling me closer to him, the two of us locked in each others' embrace as the sun set in the hills behind us. Truly, I didn't think anyone would be able to find out about how we'd spent our afternoon, but I also truly didn't care. I loved Benedict, and even though it was technically early in our courtship, I'd known him for most of my life. I knew we were meant to spend our lives together, and I knew he felt the same way as I did. Sooner or later, we'd make it official with an engagement and marriage, and be able to disappear together whenever we wanted without the Ton batting an eyelash. But, in the meantime, I didn't mind sneaking away for private moments like this one bit. No matter what had led to it in the first place.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[takenbypeter]

Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

[tlouadditc]

to the brim ... <3

dom!abby x fem!sub!reader

!! not my pic !!

warnings: fluff + smut [MDNI and MEN DNI.] modern!au / no apocalypse, established relationship, softdom!abby [?], i couldnt think of good gifts dont mind it, abby is a gamer confirmed bc i said so, breeding [duh], abby has a breeding strap, filthy talk omg :(( ah!! i think thats it

a/n: ever since i read @seattlesellie's ellie breeding fic... i've been a changed woman. so here's my take on abby! p.s.: no desc. of hair, skin color, size, etc. :) this is also kinda long but enjoy my loves!

you and abby had been together for around 3 long, happy years. the happiest years, you could say. it was weird; you never thought you'd end up like this. never.. imagined being happy with someone, especially someone as outgoing and brave as abby. you were complete opposites, you being more introverted and kept to yourself while abby was loud and proud. even the way she asked you out [buying you your favorite flowers, making you dinner, AND two cute little matching rings] was memorable and creative. you've always loved everything about her.

today, in present time, is your anniversary. every year, you attempt to top the last year. always remembering little details and bookmarking whatever she sent you just for this moment. abby's currently at her office job; "busiest day of the year, but i'll be back in time for dinner," she explained earlier that morning. "promise!" you take this as an opportunity to buy her gifts and plan out a romantic dinner for the night.

lately, she's been wanting these lego flower sets [specifically the orchid ones since they reminded her of you.. :,)], so you quickly bought one. that isn't enough, you think, so you also get custom lego keychains of both of you, making them both wear wedding dresses and smile as bright as the sun. while you're at it, you get her favorite cake, chocolate with strawberry sprinkles, and have "happy 3rd anniversary, my love" on the top. you smile as you reach your apartment, already visualizing her surprised face. i'll get her this year, you think as you step inside.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

hours later, you hear a slight knock knock knock on the door. perfect timing, you think, quickly fixing your hair and looking over your outfit. you're wearing a black maxi dress, tight-fitting over your curves, but simple in style. it's kinda casual, but abby insisted on staying home. "it's for my surprise," she argued, a smirk forming on her face as she said it. she always had some quick trick up her sleeve, but you're even quicker.

well. most of the time.

you peek in the peephole, and there she is. she's wearing her glasses today [her bluelight ones you bought for her your last anniversary since she always complained about her headaches], dressed in all black and her hair flowing down her shoulders. her hands hold onto the handle of a medium sized, deep red giftbag. she probably feels your eyes on her, because flashes a pearly smile up to the small opening. no matter how much she smiles, you never get tired of it. you quickly unlock the door and open it widely.

her pale skin turns a slight dusty shade of pink as she looks you up in down, lovingly taking in your beauty. her mouth opens to say something, but all that comes out is a soft, "hi, baby," before she pulls you into a tight hug, exhaling as she wraps her toned arms around you. she feels like.. like something familiar, but nothing you've ever felt before. something comforting. like home.

she pulls back, placing her hands on either cheek. her eyes move back and forth from one eye to another, almost as if she's trying to read your mind, hear your thoughts. "missed you so much, bun." she leans in, giving you two small pecks on the lips before pulling you into one last hug.

"missed you more abs," you murmur, "more than you'd ever know."

she pulls back, smiling as you mirror her expression. after a couple of seconds, she finally looks around the apartment. "babe?" she questions, clearly in shock. there's big, red heart balloons and her favorite candles are lit all around. she's completely enveloped in the candlelit room, gasping when she looks down and sees rose petals scattered beautifully on the wooden floor. you see her eyes lock onto two red, nicely wrapped gifts on the coffee table. "oh. my god," she looks from the living room back to you, astonished. "no, you didn't."

"oh, yes i did," you giggle as you close and lock the front door. she walks carefully over the fresh rose petals into the living room. she sits on the couch, looking up at you with doe eyes. "babe, if this is what i think it is..." she pauses and exhales. all you can do is smile; your excitement cannot be contained. "open them up!" you cheer, sitting down in the armchair beside the sofa.

she picks up the smaller box, cautiously shaking it. she was always great at guessing your gifts. but this time, she furrows her brows in confusion. she shakes it once more, a little harder this time, deep thought written across her sharp face. the scrunch in her nose makes you laugh a bit. "is it.." she starts, but cuts herself off. "i don't know.. actually."

you shrug, "then open it, babe." she sighs before accepting defeat and opening the small package. as soon as she gets the paper off, she gasps and looks up at you. "oh my god!" she exclaims. "wait, are these-" she looks back at the package, back at you, and holds it up to your face. "oh my god! it's us!"

you smile and laugh while she gushes over the fact they look exactly like you two. "how did they get my hair perfect? and the little dresses! i mean, look at it, oh my god." she admires them silently for a few seconds before uttering, "this is gonna be us, bun. i promise."

the uncontrollable urge to smile takes over your face, making your cheeks hurt a bit. she's muttering a thousand "thank you"s before opening the next one; the one you're the most excited about. she's been talking about this since last year, but she never had the time to get it or start it, matter of fact.

she tears the paper once again, immediately stopping in her tracks. her eyes move up to you once again and her jaw goes slack. "oh my FUCKING god," she yells, ripping the rest of the paper off. it's almost like she's a child again; the way her face lights up makes your entire day worth while. she proceeds to nerd out over the set once again, "this is so... oh my goodness i can't even explain how excited i am. thank you so much babe... wow.. i got so lucky..."

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

you made her favorite dinner that night, having it freshly prepared for her and still warm on the stove. she just rambles about how she's the luckiest woman in the world to have a beautiful girlfriend and how much she loves you. she continues this throughout the entire meal, making sure she can treat you with the same treatment whenever she can; wiping your cheek when anything got on your face, getting you whatever you needed with no questions asked.. anything. basically, your everyday treatment with her.

after dinner, you both sit on the sofa, talking about your days. mid-conversation, abby randomly gasps.

"and then he was li- uhm... abby?"

"oh my god. i almost forgot!"

"what? what's the matter?"

"your gift!!"

she practically jumps out of her seat, striding over to the counter where she left the giftbag. "can't believe i forgot my gift for my special girl." she scoffs at herself and sits while handing you the bag. it's not heavy, but it's also not lightweight. you scan through your memories of things you've mentioned to her: cats, a wedding ring, books... but it didn't seem like any of that stuff was in here.

you give up, opening the top and looking inside. your jaw drops. you see a long, light pink box. there's fancy gold lettering across the front that you can't read. you take the box out, and unwrap the ribbon bow from around it. as you lift the top up, you see plush flowers and.. a small hello kitty stuffed animal in between the flowers. you squeal as you put the bag down and hug abby tightly, muttering thankyouthankyouthankyou!! all she does is smile and whisper "of course, princess." you think that's it before you realize there's a small pink card and a even smaller box inside the bag.

confused, you pick up the card and analyze the cover. it's a baby princess themed card; such an abby thing to do. you glance over at her to crack a smile, but you realize she has on that devilish smirk plastered across her face. uh oh, you think. "why're you smiling like that, babe?"

"like what?" her smirk grows wider.

that's even more 'abby' like than the card.

you roll your eyes jokingly before deciding to open the card up. inside, there's a paragraph written:

"dear y/n,

happy 3rd anniversary, my love! i'm so glad you're in my life, even after all this time. you'll always be special to me and i see that we will grow old together. i know you've been wanting that bouquet for a while, but i noticed you've been obsessed with something more.."

you glance up at abby once again. she's watching your reaction with that same smirk. what is she up to? you continue to read:

"i hope you noticed the cover of the card; of course, you're my princess, and you always will be. but i always see you looking at baby clothes when we're out, gushing over baby videos at home, etc etc. and even though we technically can't make one.. i can still give you the experience. ;) love your [nonofficial] wife, abby"

you feel your face heat up as you close the card. abby's large, warm hand suddenly starts stroking your leg through the dress, jolting you back to reality. she chuckles, whispering, "mm, you want that, right? you want me to knock you up?" she's getting closer, her hot breath hitting your neck, making you shudder. "want me to fill you to the brim, baby? hm?"

she's kissing your neck, small pecks turning into full-on hickeys. she loves the way you whimper and squirm, the way you turn your head to give her more access. "i'll take that as a yes," she breathes, a small laugh leaving her mouth. her hand travels from your leg, up to your neck and chin, making you turn and kiss her.

"so pretty like this," she coos in between kisses. she's lost in your big eyes, your noises; lost in you. she toys with the thin straps of your dress, subtly signaling to take it off. you, of course, rush to peel it off. after you do so, you're almost completely naked while she's completely clothed. the drastic difference makes you feel small under her predatory gaze. she taps her thigh twice and demands, "come here, princess."

you straddle her lap, your clothed cunt slightly gaining friction against her pants, making you whimper. "such pretty noises," she murmurs, mostly to herself. her hands rest nicely on your sides, right above your hips. "so, tell me," she starts. "how you wanna do this, mama?"

the new nickname makes you feel a slight heartbeat in between your legs. "oh, you liked that, huh?" she comments, smirking as she looks up at your pretty little face. "well, if you want me to take control, i'll do it. i'll do whatever you want, mama."

"use me," you blurt out, desperately needing her right at that moment. you move your hips back and forth, grinding against her crotch to relieve the ache in between your thighs. abby lets out a breathy laugh, "oh, you want it that bad? god, you're so cute."

before you can respond, she's wrapping her arm around your waist and standing up. you wrap your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck out of instinct. she's walking you to the bedroom, just like her little princess.

when she gets into the room, she lays you on your back, legs behind held back by her large hands pinning them under your armpits. your breath is shaky, heartbeat practically bulging out of your chest. she leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses from your neck alllll the way down to your bellybutton. "f-fuck, abby," you shudder, her face getting closer and closer to your heat. "what's wrong?" she asks, "what you need, baby?"

"need you inside," you beg, not caring how pathetic you sound now. "oh, i know, baby," she coos, "but i wanna make this special for you, okay? no rushing. just us."

you appreciate her genuine care with your intimate experiences with her, but at this point, the ache was growing more and more painful as time went on. you whine, moving one of the hands pinning your leg to your cunt. "please, abs. need it."

"fuck, babe," her voice is low and husky, almost a growl. "okay, okay, i got you, mkay? i'll treat you right, promise."

her pointer finger ghosts over your swollen clit, forcing a small moan out. small little circles stimulate your bud, drenching your already soaked panties. she groans, "always so wet f'me, my god." as if she can't take it anymore, she practically rips off the small cloth off your aching pussy. the cold air meeting the warmth of your core makes you gasp, squeezing your thighs together in response.

abby's warmth comes back and divorces your legs apart, pinning them back to where they were originally. "gonna take such good care of you, mama," she mutters, kissing your inner thighs. after what feels like an eternity of teasing, she finally lays small, short kitten licks on your cunt. the small feeling of her warm muscle against your clit relieves the burning ache in your core, but only for a second. she lays a flat tongue, collecting your slick as she moves up. your small "oh"s egg her on, fueling her ego as she spreads your lips apart and latches onto your bud. your moans grow louder and louder, legs slightly trembling from how good it felt. little did you know, she's getting off on your pretty little reactions; she's moaning against your bud, vibrations making your legs shake even more.

"ffffuck-," you cry out, gripping the sheets from pleasure. the vibrations send you over the edge, the familiar tingly feeling in your abdomen unraveling. "m'cumming- oh my god," you wail, attempting to close your legs to get away from abby's tongue. her hands grip your thighs, forcing them apart once again. she continues to suck on your clit, overstimulating you. "t-too much - fuck!"

your juices and her saliva mix, coating the bottom of her chin. she finally unlatches from your sensitive, swollen bud and wipes her chin. "sorry, bun," she says, heavily breathing, "you just taste so goddamn sweet, i had to!"

as abby starts to walk away [you assume it's to help you clean up so you guys can sleep], you slowly drift away into a deep sleep..

"nuh uh, 'm not done with you, mama."

your eyes force open, eyes immediately landing on abby's bare chest. she was almost never topless around you - except when you two showered together - but it wasn't a norm in the house. you unintentionally whisper, "you're so beautiful," causing a wide smile to go across abby's kind face. "thank you, baby," she replied, "c'mere." she patted the edge of the bed. her usual black strap was buckled on, intimidating you from the end of the bed.

you crawl to the edge, sitting on your feet when you reach abby. she giggles, "get on your back, babe. you know the drill." you follow her orders, slightly chuckling at your mistake. as she lines herself up with your slit, she caresses your face, just telling you how much she loves you; "love you so much, bun. i'm so lucky to have you, y'know that, right?" she peppers small pecks along your face in between, smiling at your perfect face.

"'m gonna go all in, okay? jus' let me know when i can move," she warns. you nod, slightly nervous. the strap seemed bigger than usual; a bit wider too. it made you think she'd rip you apart with this thing! but as she bottomed out, the sharp painful sensation was short lived and replaced with a more pleasant sensation, the feeling of being full. and not just full, but full of her.

you start to slightly grind on her cock, trying to get any pleasure. the desperate motion making abby smirk and slam into you again, this time earning a loud, pathetic yelp from you. she continues to slam into you, holding your hips for leverage. "yea, keep makin' those pretty sounds for me," she groans, almost in an animalistic way. all you can do is tell her how good you feel, hands gripping onto her toned biceps.

she brings a hand down, right over your abdomen, pressing slightly. "you feel me right there, yea?" there's a slight bulge where her strap is; the sight makes you drool slightly. you nod feverishly, focusing on her voice and her dick pounding into you. her hips snap back and forth, squishing sounds filling the dimly lit room.

she, on the other hand, is hyper-focused on watching the black silicone disappear inside your gushing cunt, a vague white ring forming around the base of her cock. the sight alone has her pussydrunk and practically forming a pool in between her thighs. "such a messy fucking cunt," she murmurs. "wish i could fucking - shit - fill that little pussy up."

your moans become louder, your grip tightening on the meat of her muscles. your head goes back, putting the hickeys she gave you on full display. "oh, you fucking like that, huh?" she places both hands on either side of your head, still fucking you at a relentless pace. every thrust she does, her tits bounce slightly in front of you. her hair frames her face perfectly, the sweat beads racing down her skin as she pounds into you.

"holy fuck," you whimper. her cock, buried deep inside your greedy little cunt, hits that spongy spot inside of you, making you go insane. she smirks, she knows what she's doing. "what? speak up, princess," she speaks, a mocking tone laced in her words.

"s-so good," a choked moan cuts you short.

"you like the way 'm fucking you? like the way that dick got you going crazy, huh?"

a string of yesyesyes's is all you can get out, too lost in your own pleasure.

"wan' me to fuck my baby into you?" she's out of breath, start to whimper, but she doesn't slow down or stop. she just keeps. on. pounding. she's chasing her orgasm, clit bumping against the base of the strap. you're just a wailing, helpless mess under her, begging for her to cum into you. "i need it, p-please, abs!"

she moans loudly as her thrusts get sloppier, slowing down slightly. you feel a thick liquid unleash into your hole, filling you up. the new feeling causing you to gasp, looking down at where you two met. abby fully pulls out after a few seconds, when a gush of white liquid slowly drips out of your stuffed cunt. she whispers, "fuck, that's a pretty sight to see." using one hand, she spreads you open, your fucked-out hole on display, just for her.

you're still trying to steady your breathing, getting more tired by the second. abby sits on the bed next to you, pulling you into her lap. she caresses your face once again, "did so good f'me, baby. happy anniversary." she kisses your forehead, cuddling you close to her body. before you fully fall asleep, she picks you up, bridal style.

"wh- what are you doing?" you question, half asleep.

"gotta clean you up, babe." she giggles at your sleepy voice.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

after a long, warm bubble bath together and a small cleaning session, you and abby finally lay back on the couch to watch a movie and cuddle.

"y'know what, babe?" she asks, shoveling chocolate cake into her mouth.

"what?"

"i wish i could actually get you pregnant."

you slightly giggle at that, "me too."

"i also want to marry you. really badly." she's looking at your face now, reading into your soul.

"we should get married," you speak, thoughtfully. what's the point of her bringing this u-

she gets up unexpectedly, walking over to your giftbag. confused, you ask, "what's up?" she pulls out that small box you saw earlier. "oh, nothing.." she walks in front of you, then dips down onto one knee.

you gasp. is this really happening? right here right now?? someone pinch me.

"y/n, you've made me the happiest woman on earth for the past 3 years we've been together. not to mention the first 4 of us being friends. now, i'm not gonna give a long, sappy speech during this amazing moment," she slightly chuckles, "but i want to ask you.. will you be my wife?" she opens the box, a shiny ring glistening in the light.

you can't see it that well since tears well up in your eyes. you could've never asked for anyone better than abby. she's made you a better person overall. she's been there for you, even in your darkest times. you nod, wiping your tears.

she's slightly chuckling, which you don't realize until your eyes clear. it's.. a minecraft ring. specifically a minecraft rose on a thick band of gold. you laugh and let her slide it on your ring finger.

"i'm sorry," she's still giggling as she gets up from the floor, "i saw this while i was out and i was like 'this is perfect.'" you're also giggling, "it is perfect. thank you, baby."

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

a/n: abby's such a jokester! anyway hope u guys enjoyed this took forever!

taglist: @unicycl @xnoviee @aouiaa @akenosimp167 @njplatesruler [if you're striked out, i can't tag u!! :(]

[djarins-cyare]

Here from your WIP post - please tell me about Refugees From TV Land?!

Yay, I’m so glad someone asked about this one! 🩵 It’s one of my favourites and the first fic idea I wrote down after finishing Be-All And Endor.

As those of you who’ve read my WIP folder titles may have guessed, I’m pretty obsessed with the whole ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept. One of my most beloved Mandalorian fics ever (Short Debts Make Long Friends by @wrathkitty) features a Reader from Earth, and I’ve already described one of my Earthling!Reader fic ideas here.

Another of my favourite Mandalorian fics is Not My Stars by @keldabe-kriff, which is kind of the opposite – it features Din becoming stuck on Earth. It’s such an intriguing inversion of the ‘Earthling in the SWU’ concept that I found myself dreaming up my own spin on how such a situation could come about and what the dynamics would be like. I love the idea of Din being totally flummoxed by things we find normal and the reader having to help him adapt!

Refugees From TV Land is a placeholder title until I can think of something better, but I’ve got the whole thing plotted out and have written a few scenes here and there. I think the best way to illustrate the setup is simply to give you the entire scene where Din arrives, although I don’t really want to give away much more than that for now. So here you go – I hope you enjoy it! 🩵

Refugees From TV Land

BOOM!

You bolt upright as a deafening bang wrenches you from your couch-based slumber, shattering the enjoyable Mandalorian-themed dream you were having. The projector still hums quietly behind you, its vintage lens casting an achromatic glow over the room, though the show has long since ended.

Through the foggy confusion of your abrupt awakening, you scan the room, convinced that something has either fallen or exploded, and a mounting panic hits as you realise Yoda is nowhere to be seen.

“Yoda! Where are you, buddy?” That dog is a menace.

After a few seconds, the patter of claws on the hardwood floor signals your little hound has heard your summons. All you see at first are his huge ears approaching the couch before he leaps up to join you.

“What have you destroyed this time, huh?” you ask, already dreading the mess you’ll have to face.

Yoda huffs at your accusation before bounding forward to lick your face – either in apology or simple affection – and you collapse back onto the sofa, laughing as you fend him off with a few ear scratches. A quick once-over confirms he isn’t wet, smeared in food, or singed. It’s unlikely he’s caused too much damage, then.

“Alright, little guy, whatever it is, we’ll tackle it tomorrow. Bedtime now.” But as you try to kick off the blanket and sit back up, you swear you hear something else – a man’s shout, distant yet discernible.

Is someone outside? You’re about to get up and check when Yoda growls, and a cold shiver of alarm races through you at the possibility of an intruder. This place is so isolated that you’re not sure how to handle such a prospect. You freeze for several anxious moments, watching your dog for any clues about the threat’s origin.

Then, you notice something odd: Yoda isn’t growling at the door or the windows. He’s fixated on the blank wall opposite you, upon which the projector still casts a large square of light.

And that’s when you see it.

Shifting patterns ripple within the light’s confines – undulating shimmers that make the solid wall appear almost liquid, the shapes slowly gaining colour and definition.

Suddenly, Yoda howls, and your focus snaps back to him, only to see him doing his best wolf impression at the ceiling. “What the fuck…?” you murmur.

But before you can reach out to soothe him, a shrill, high-pitched tone slices through the air, forcing you to clamp your hands over your ears. Yoda abandons his howling in favour of barking instead, his gaze fixed once again on the wall. You look up and see… images! They’re faint but unmistakable – as if the projector’s lens is out of focus.

Wondering what on earth it’s projecting (since the DVD has undoubtedly ended), you reach up behind the sofa and fiddle with the lens assembly, twisting the focusing gear to adjust the aperture. The piercing tone has vanished, so you drop your other hand from your ear, noting that Yoda has now fully burrowed himself beneath your blanket.

So much for your guard dog, the little wimp.

As the image sharpens, you hear a man shouting again – but this time, you can make out the words: “There he is! Stop him!” Desperately, you twist the focus gear once more, trying to tune in whatever your projector is inexplicably displaying.

Suddenly, the image becomes vividly clear – a perfectly projected grey hallway with angular walls and glowing strip lighting. Your drowsy mind struggles to make sense of the familiar architecture and fathom why it’s being projected onto your living room wall when, all at once, there’s another boom. You jolt in shock, and Yoda whines from beneath the blanket.

Then chaos erupts in the corridor: flashes of red ricochet off the walls, and your eyes widen as a figure dashes around the corner. A figure you recognise immediately.

It’s none other than the Mandalorian – his silver beskar deflecting the red plasma as if it were mere rain in a summer storm.

What the fuck are you seeing? Is this an easter egg at the end of the DVD or something?!

You watch as Din tucks himself against the wall near the corner he just raced around. He peeks back out and fires a couple of blaster shots back the way he came while Grogu’s little pod zips around the corner, its top closed tight to protect him.

Suddenly, a door slides open closer to you along the corridor, and a stormtrooper steps into the foreground, taking aim at Din’s back.

“Oh, shit!” you gasp, fully immersed in the stakes of this bizarre bonus scene. But Din pivots just in time, firing his blaster straight at his would-be attacker. The trooper falls instantly, their own shot going wide and bouncing off the metal wall until it hurtles directly toward the camera…

…and into your fucking living room!

You scream as it impacts the wall above you, desperately wondering if you’re still asleep on your couch and merely dreaming this madness… until Din rushes toward you, shouting, “Is it safe there?”

This is a dream. It can’t be real.

Nonetheless, you nod.

And then he’s running toward you again, stormtroopers rounding the corner behind him, blaster bolts shrieking in your direction.

You cringe as elements from the show you love transform your cosy living room into a battlefield. Red plasma shatters an antique vase on your shelf… it singes your new oak coffee table and custom-made couch cushions… and the Mandalorian you’ve adored for the past four years dives through the wall, rolling to a surprisingly graceful stop on your rug.

Holy shit. This is a dream. This is just a totally realistic, scarily vivid dream.

But the shots keep coming, and the stormtroopers clamour ever closer….

“Close the doorway!” Din yells, rolling to his knees and returning fire through your wall.

Reacting mindlessly to his command, you twist on the couch, stretching up behind you to slam the on/off switch as fast as you can. But as the projector’s light flickers and fades, a few more blaster shots make it through the rapidly vanishing ‘doorway’ – and one catches your outstretched forearm.

The pain is more excruciating than any injury you’ve ever endured. You can’t even tell if you scream; you think you do, but nothing else exists beyond the searing agony of white-hot plasma eating into your skin.

It’s fucking glowing.

With the projector now off, the room is shrouded in darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the windows… and your fucking glowing wound.

You slide back down on the couch, clutching your injured arm and trying your goddamn best not to hyperventilate.

“Hey… let me see,” you hear, and suddenly, your fictional crush is gently cradling your forearm in his soft leather gloves. Din fucking Djarin is kneeling beside you, holding your arm as you hysterically gulp down oxygen and repress the urge to scream. Then, a gurgling sound comes from behind him, and you glance up…

…and wide brown eyes stare at you from between enormous batwing ears that illustrate exactly why you named your dog Yoda. Except… he looks real. A real-life Grogu with fluid movements – so unlike that jerky puppet in the show.

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. Even your desperate, gasping attempts to take in oxygen aren’t enough to stave off your shocked mind’s overwhelming desire: to just switch the fuck off for a while.

And as darkness encroaches from the edges of your vision, you remain conscious just long enough to feel something tingly being sprayed on your arm. The last thing you hear before you pass out is a modulated voice that sounds remarkably like Pedro Pascal assuring you, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Sure. You will be when you wake up. Because this was all a dream.

Right?

[benedictscanvas]

Your Remus x reader fics have melted my cold, cold heart and now I’m a mess. They’re so soft! And I’m so soft for gentleness! Please write more if you feel like it. Maybe something where reader is exhausted mentally and a wee bit teary, and Remus is his lovely, comforting self. Regardless, all the air kisses for you!!

thank you so so much lovely!! this is one of the most beautiful asks i’ve had in a while. i hope this is what you were looking for, so many air kisses back at you!! this is a continuation of this and this but doesn’t have to be! || remus lupin x fem!reader, 1.4k words, cw pet names and a teary, tired reader

- - -

Remus is not having a good day because it’s abundantly clear to him that you’re not having a good day.

He’s spending the day working at yours, because his wifi is fucked and for once it isn’t just an excuse to spend time with you. Although he supposes he could have turned to Sirius who lives far closer to him than you do, so it’s a bit of an excuse to see you after all.

His wifi is fucked though.

So he sits at your tiny dining room table that can only fit two chairs and spends the day trying not to look at you too much opposite him. He fails miserably, and it’s not usually miserable to look at you but each time he does, you look thoroughly despondent.

“Another cuppa, lovely?”

You startle as you look at him over your laptop like you’d forgotten he was there. You have to blink from your screen and back to him a couple of times before you can finally process what he’d said to you.

“Thank you.”

He slips away to the kitchen, socked feet quiet on wooden floors because now he’s terrified of startling you. It’s 3pm in the afternoon and the third cuppa he’s made you today, but he wonders if he should have made you more. He begged you to stop for lunch multiple times but you very gently argued that you’d just got too much to do today, that he could take whatever he wanted from the fridge.

He should have just made you a sandwich without asking. Now he’ll interfere with your dinner if he does. He’s really struggling to know what to do here. As he carries two fresh cups of tea back to the dining room table, he feels a little bit breathless.

”Tea for the pretty lady,” he flirts, because it usually makes you smile this bashful smile that he really likes. But as he places the cup next to you, he notices your watery eyes just as you turn away to hide them.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, all scratchy. Remus feels like he’s about to cry just looking at you, so he makes an effort to pull himself together as he crouches next to your chair.

”Dove?”

You’re still staring at the wall rather than him. He isn’t going to rush you, though, or force you to look at him if you don’t want to. He’ll stay hovering by your side for as long as you’ll let him, but he places a tentative hand on your shin after a few seconds so you know he’s with you.

When you turn to face him, sniffling, the first tear has fallen. You were clearly holding them in, and it feels like a physical ache in his chest.

”Sorry,” you say through an empty laugh as more tears fall and you hurry to wipe them away. He squeezes your shin for lack of what to do. He is totally helpless, but there’s also this instinct deep within him that kicks in and tells him to do whatever it takes to fix this.

”It’s okay,” he assures gently, “You want to talk about it?”

”I hate crying,” you say instead, looking upwards to try to stop the tears falling again. He takes a second to kneel down rather than crouch, however much his knees hate it, so that he can reach up and wipe your tears himself. The pads of his thumbs swipe across your cheeks and he hopes you feel at least a little loved.

”I know, lovely.”

He doesn’t say much else, because he’s invited you to speak and you will, when you’re ready. He really really doesn’t want to rush you. Another swipe of his thumb removes another traitorous tear. He keeps his other hand as a steady pressure on your shin even though he doesn’t know if that’s even helpful.

”I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you say, another halfhearted laugh accompanied by more tears, “Nothing’s happened. I’ve just got so much on, and so many emails and texts I haven’t replied to and I saw another one pop up on my phone and I just…”

He nods sympathetically as you trail off and immediately bury your face in your hands as the real sobs start. It’s instinct once again that takes over as he strains upwards to put his arms around you as best he can, one over your shoulders and the other bringing your head to his chest. You go willingly.

He presses his forehead to the top of your head and murmurs into your ear.

”Oh, my girl. You’re alright. I’ve got you, you can cry.”

His words seem to make you cry harder and it only makes him pull you in closer, as close as he can.

You apologise yet again after a few minutes and he just strokes your hair and says nothing. He thinks it helps. You begin to calm down after a little while longer, he can feel you try to pull away and he lets you go easily, shifting until he’s kneeling beside you again.

”God, what a mess I’ve made,” you laugh again, a defence mechanism if he’s ever seen one. You wipe the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt in vain and he catches your hand in his. Brave, he thinks.

”None of that,” he insists softly, “This shirt’s all special now. The day you finally let me see you cry, immortalised in the fabric.”

Your laugh is far more genuine this time and he’s very proud of himself.

“Been wanting to see me cry for a while, have you?”

”All my life, dove. I was beginning to think I’d just have to mean to you and get it over with.”

You gasp dramatically, but it’s all for show.

”I don’t think you have it in you, Remus.”

”Maybe not,” he hums wistfully, “Seeing you cry has just now made the top five of things that make me cry. But I’m glad you trusted me with it.

You soften, visibly, he can see it in your eyes as you tilt your head at him. You press your lips together and wipe your eyes again, but there’s no more tears to be found.

”I suppose if I had to cry, I’m glad you were here for it too,” you say with a small grin and it isn’t like your usual one, but it’s a start. Your face grows a lot more serious as you say, “You make pretty much everything a bit better.”

And he doesn’t know what to do with that at all. If you’d said that to him back when the two of you were sixteen, he might have told you he was in love with you then and there. But he’s not sixteen anymore, and he has enough sense to know this is far from the time for that. So he hopes he isn’t blushing too much and goes back to what he knows.

”Only a bit better?”

You shove him, and he’s on his knees, so he’s quick to lose his balance and go toppling to the floor. It finally brings out your real laugh, loud and giggly, as you wriggle about in your chair.

His knees hurt but all he can feel is delighted.

Soon enough, he heaves himself to standing, pretending to glare at you as he returns to his chair and you’re still giggling.

”Your tea will go cold. I made that for you ages ago, you know.”

”I was crying!”

”I know. It was very annoying,” he says, grinning at you so you know he doesn’t mean a word. You laugh yet again, which is exactly what he was going for, “Seriously, lovely. Please say something when you’re feeling overwhelmed, I can’t bear for all that to be happening in your pretty little head without me knowing.”

He sees you react to the word pretty this time; you preen.

”I don’t want you feeling left out,” you agree teasingly, with a little sigh, “Alright, I’ll tell you. Only if you reply to all my texts for me.

”If you order Chinese for dinner, we can sit on the sofa and reply to them together?”

You look like you could run round the table and hug him again, and he considers his job complete. That little instinct that urged him to fix it calms down and the big instinct he usually has to kiss you senseless returns full force. He sips his tea instead of listening to it, for now.

- - -

if you have a request of your own (esp for more of this universe or more soft!marauders, i would love to hear from you sunflower <3