#this place fucking rocks i love developing worlds

[basaltbutch]

i need to talk about enurian more

[nadvs]

keep thinking about having a sneaky link and or fwb situation with rafe and one night he calls you and hes like ‘can i come over i need you’ and youre like dude im asleep but hes already standing at your place and when you open the door hes all dishevelled and bloody and beat up and drunk or high or whatever and close to passing out so you patch him up and eventually get into some freaky stuff and maybe he even ends up confessing hes falling for you……. is that anything

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning blood/injury

You’re used to Rafe’s name flashing on your phone late at night. He’s usually drunk or high after a party, desperate to fuck and knowing you’re almost always up for it.

You know he’s not interested in nor capable of having sex with any strings attached. It’s just a friends with benefits situation, and you’ll take what you can get, loving how perfectly his body fits into yours.

But it hasn’t stopped you from developing feelings for the complex, hardened man who’s seen you naked dozens of times.

Tonight, you’re already dozing off when your phone starts buzzing. You tiredly pick it up to see he’s calling. He never calls. Only texts.

You figure it’s another booty call and let it go to voicemail.

But he calls again. And again.

“What?” you say groggily.

“Can I come over?” he rasps.

“I’m sleeping,” you say. “Another night, ‘kay?”

“Please. I need you.”

“What?” you ask. You’ve never heard his voice like this. Sad. Empty.

“I’m outside your building. I… I need you,” he repeats.

You agree even though you’re exhausted, hearing desperation in his voice. When you open your door, Rafe’s head is hanging, his messy hair falling over his forehead, his lips parted.

When he finally looks up, you notice blood spattered over his nose.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Can you help me?” he says. Rafe doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He realizes how pathetic it is that a girl he fucks casually is the closest person he has to him. And how pathetic is that you don’t even know it.

He’s leaning against your bathroom sink as you dab a wet tissue over the dried blood, his lids heavy. He feels like he’s about to pass out, but he wants to keep looking at you.

Even through the fog, gazing at you and feeling the way you take care of him gets him hard. As you clean him up, you notice the bulge in his jeans.

“Really?” you say with a breathy laugh.

“You’re hot,” he drawls, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

After tossing out the bloodied tissue, you brush Rafe’s bangs out of his face and study his tired features. He doesn’t get many moments like this with you. These soft, quiet moments of concern and care.

It makes him wonder, like always, if you feel the way he does.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Fight,” he says with a shrug.

“Ever considered just walking away?”

“That’s stupid.”

You chuckle and step back, but he pulls you in by your wrist and kisses you, fighting through the pain radiating on his face. You purposely kiss gently so not to hurt him, arousal twisting inside of you. You don’t care about how tired you are anymore.

He stands, pushing you back, following your footsteps into your room. He grinds into you once you’re on your bed, feeling himself throbbing already.

“I thought you were hurt,” you tease.

“I am,” Rafe whispers. “Make me feel better.”

He knows your body by now, knows where to touch to get you wet. He kisses down your neck as he pulls your pajamas off, rubbing you over your panties.

You strip him down to his boxers, dipping your hand into them and stroking his hard, smooth cock. He lets out a groan, loving the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him.

Once you’re naked, you sit on him, slowly sinking onto him, letting him bury into you. Rafe throws his head back in pleasure. He never gets used to how nicely you squeeze around him.

As you start to rock, your hands on his firm chest, he watches you on top of him in awe. He grips your hips, letting you take full control, loving how you writhe and move and breathe.

“You take it so fucking good,” he praises, revelling in how hot and wet you are.

You lean down so your clit rubs against his base, whimpering at the sensation, arching your back. Rafe’s hands rest on your ass as you move on top of him, reaching your peak with shallow breaths.

He cums quickly after you, emptying himself inside you in hard and fast spurts, groaning through his climax.

You clean up and settle beside him, sure he’ll head out soon. He never stays the night. But he’s not getting up.

He turns to kiss you again, cradling your face. You figure he wants to go for a second round. He continues to run his tongue over yours, languidly and without the speed and urgency you’re used to.

Rafe isn’t touching you anywhere else. His palms are on your cheeks, his lips gently sucking yours. He eventually pulls back, forehead against yours.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he mutters.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.” He swallows hard. “Pretending like this is just fucking.”

“What?” Your heart is racing. Your stomach is numb. You look at him in the dimness of your room.

“This no strings attached thing is bullshit,” he says. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

He kisses you again, soft and shy for the first time.

“Is it just me?” he asks. He’s hurting all over, in pain from simply imagining you rejecting him.

You’re worried he’s just fucked up from whatever he was drinking or inhaling earlier tonight, but you take the opportunity to get your feelings off your chest, no matter the risk.

“It’s not just you,” you finally say.

He breaths a short sigh of relief, kissing you again, thumb stroking your temple.

Rafe isn’t sure when you went from an amazing hook-up to a girl who’s slowly taking his heart piece by piece, but it’s been agony keeping it from you.

He’s glad that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore, but mostly, he’s elated that you feel the same.

[alesandraelin]

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎 - 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚢 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚣𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Description: Lucy has completed her transfer to Chelsea where her girlfriend of 2 years plays.

Its a short one sorry but its cute 🫶

This gif tho 🤤😍

Lucy Bronze stood in the terminal at London Heathrow having just gotten off the plane, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She had just completed her transfer from Barcelona to Chelsea, a move that had been both highly anticipated and deeply personal.

As she waited for her luggage, Lucy couldn't help but think about the whirlwind of the past few weeks. Leaving Barcelona had been a big decision to make, the club had developed her as both a player and person. The club had given her so much—two Liga F titles, two Champions League victories, and countless memories. But the call of home, of England, and more importantly, of her girlfriend, had been impossible to ignore.

Two hands on her waist quickly bring her out of her thoughts as she practically jumped out of her skin. "What the fuck!" Lucy exclaimed as she felt the sudden touch, very quick to move away from it.

All the was met with was a very familiar laugh and then the face of her girlfriend of four years; y/n l/n. The two met whilst playing together at Lyon, and left at the same time for Lucy to go back to Man City and y/n to make a world record transfer fee to play for Chelsea. Now, they were finally going to be in the same city, playing for the same club.

"Welcome home my love." Y/n stood on her toes to whisper in her ear as she wrapped her arms around Lucy, which was reciprocated immediately.

"I love you so much." Lucy said as she kissed the top of y/n's head.

"I love you too."

The first few days in London were a blur of unpacking, media appearances, and training sessions. Lucy was quickly reminded of the intensity of the Women's Super League, but she relished the challenge. Chelsea's training ground was buzzing with energy, and she was eager to prove herself.

Y/n had been a rock through it all, helping Lucy settle into their new apartment and navigate the intricacies of the club. They had chosen to move into y/n's apartment in the West of London, avoiding having both of them moving. It was a new chapter in their lives, and they were determined to make the most of it.

One evening, after a training session, they sat on their balcony, sipping tea and watching the sunset.

"How are you feeling about the move?" Y/n asked, her eyes searching Lucy's face.Lucy took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"It's been a lot to take in, but I feel good. I miss Barcelona, but this feels right. Being here with you, playing for Chelsea—it's like everything is falling into place."

Y/n smiled warmly at the older girl and squeezed her hand. "I missed you, I missed playing with you. Now I can finally see you everyday." Lucy melted into y/n touch as she spoke, kissing y/n head softly.

"I missed you so much my love." Lucy tilted y/n's head up and locked their lips together softly but passionately.

[ovaryacted]

GIRL DAD! LEON HEADCANONS

So, I was not expecting this to be so fucking long, but here we are. At this rate, this should just be considered a fic & analysis post all on its own lmao. But yes, here are some extensive headcanons of Leon being a girl dad because as a writer it’s my duty to make this man happy since others won’t (I’m looking at you Capcom). No specific age of the child is mentioned but look at this as a general periodic analysis of Leon being a father. Hope you like it! :)

2.0k words | cw: tooth-rotting fluff, just Leon being a sappy dad

I think it’s become a universal and widely accepted headcanon that Leon would be a girl dad, and likewise that he will become the softest man imaginable. A man like him who has seen and witnessed so much violence and gore in his life, completely melting because his little girl has him wrapped around her finger is the most precious thing ever.

During the pregnancy, Leon would already be protective and gentle, wanting his partner to never lift a finger so he’d do everything and anything possible to make it an easy time for them. I also would like to think that he doesn’t care what sex his child is, whether it be a boy or a girl, he doesn’t have a preference, all he wants is for his baby to be healthy and happy. So throughout the pregnancy, you both agree to keep the sex of the baby a surprise, focusing more on their health and how they’re doing as they develop every week.

So the day you go into labor a week earlier than expected, he’s worried that things might go badly and his anxiety is on 10. But after hours of pain and distress during childbirth, the second he hears the loud shrill cry of his child he feels tears building in his eyes. He’s happy, genuinely happy that his baby is here in the world, and his emotions only intensify when he hears the words “Congrats, it’s a healthy baby girl!” from one of the nurses.

A baby girl. His baby girl.

He finds himself crying more than he’d like, and obviously, he’s trying to be strong for you as your body shakes from the over-exertion of labor, but he can’t help himself. As he watches the nurse put your crying baby onto your warm chest and notices how she instantly calms down the moment she hears your voice, he can feel his heart growing in size at the sight.

His two perfect girls, all in one place.

It’s a while before he gets the chance to see his child once they’re all cleaned up and swaddled in a comforting blanket, rocking a baby pink hat. His eyes are taking in his daughter’s features for the first time, going over her cute little nose and round cheeks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect, so small, and it amazes him that he managed to partake in creating something like that. Leon doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the moment he looks at his daughter he thinks he finally understands what that feels like.

The first time he gets to hold his daughter, he’s terrified, thinking that he shouldn’t be touching her to begin with. His child is pure, untouched by the horrors of the real world and his hands aren’t unwashed of everything he’s done. He’s held weapons of destruction and killed more things than he could count. You’d have to remind him constantly that his child doesn’t know anything about what he’s done to survive, about what he’s been through, and that no matter what she won’t blame him for it and will still love him because he’s her father.

Over time, he gets used to holding her, thinking it’s almost comical how small she looks tucked nicely against his bicep and chest. Holding his daughter quickly becomes a source of comfort for Leon, feeling like the world just stops the moment he has her in his arms where she’s safe. You would find him sleeping on the couch with her on his chest, her head right against his heartbeat and lulling her to sleep.

As his daughter grows, Leon only becomes more attached. He’s always taking care of her, ready to feed her, change her, tend to all of her needs, and talk to her. In a way, he knows it’s good on your end so you can rest and recover, and he gets closer to his child, a child he never knew he could have. He could spend hours just looking at her, watch how her big blue eyes take in her surroundings, and he loves having her tiny fingers wrap around one of his own.

Sometimes at night, he’d just look over her as she slept in her crib, watching her little body take in every breath while the nagging voice in his head told him that she’s a figment of his imagination. He’d spend some nights sleeping in the rocking chair in her nursery to watch over her, not caring for his sore back in the morning. It’s a process Leon has to go through on his own, and you don’t push him in any direction, just let him handle it while reminding him you’re there to support him. He has to do it to accept that his child is real and isn’t going to disappear the next time he blinks, and once his mind finally accepts that fact he’ll be less paranoid.

Eventually, he’s around his daughter so much that he develops a sixth sense to her moods. He knows when she’s about to cry, when she needs a bath or to be changed, when she’s hungry. He gets so good at taking care of his daughter that he’s in tune with her emotions, his fatherly intuition becoming stronger the more he interacts with her. This also means that he generally hates seeing his baby girl cry, it tugs at his heartstrings when he thinks she’s upset or hurt. That’s why when it’s time to bring her to the doctor to get her first shots, Leon starts to cry when his daughter cries from the injections. He hates thinking he’s hurting his child despite knowing it’s necessary for her health, but that doesn’t mean he hates it any less.

“I know sweet pea, I know it hurts. I’m sorry darling”

For the record, he’d have a list of terms of endearment he’d call his daughter on top of her name, but the one he reserves specifically for her would be sweet pea. Of course, he’s called you that once or twice, but during the pregnancy he called the baby sweet pea when they were the actual size of a pea. That name just stuck with him, and now that he has a daughter, it’ll be the one name that’s solely for her.

Leon is always shopping for her, buying her stuffed animals or anything she remotely likes. He quickly develops a bad habit of not being able to tell his daughter “no”, and that doesn’t make her into a brat, she just has a dad that wants to spoil her. In Leon’s mind, whatever his daughter says she wants, she gets, no matter how ridiculous or expensive. If she says she wants a kitchen set and it’s tea party time, Leon will get one for her and sit down with the rest of her plushies at the table and act the part. If she says she wants a damn pony he’s gonna get it for her (obviously he doesn’t because you stop him from doing something ridiculous) but he tries and it’s endearing.

His daughter will continue to grow and develops a personality that closely resembles his own, matching her appearance she got mostly from her father, moles and all. She’s smart and perceptive, a sweetheart and so kind it warms his chest. But his favorite part of his child’s personality is her spunk and sense of humor. He makes it a habit to test out his corny dad jokes on his kid, just so he can hear her laugh and giggle regardless of how old she gets. Leon does it so he can see her bright smile, not caring if it’s just gums or a full set of pearly white teeth, it’s all he looks for. He tries to be the cool dad, and he thinks as long as he has his daughter’s approval he can do anything.

Leon is always open to spending quality time with his daughter, and if anything she’s the one that initiates. He remembers when she first started walking, her wobbly little legs making him worry when he glanced at her taking her first steps. Now that she can run mostly anywhere around the house, she’ll walk towards his direction, raising her arms above her head so Leon could carry her. He always does, always says yes no matter how his body feels. He’ll try to hold her and carry her for as long as he possibly could because that’s his baby girl and he’d do anything to make her happy. Leon is fully aware that eventually, he will get too old or potentially too weak from an injury to carry her, so he stays active as much as he can and maintains his strength for that reason.

He’s always with her, whether that be playing with her and her toys, or just talking to her about anything that comes to mind. Leon and his daughter become attached at the hip, twins essentially. She’ll ramble about things and ask him silly questions, and Leon will communicate with her too. When he does talk to his daughter, he speaks to her like an actual adult and it’s the funniest thing ever. She could be babbling when she’s a toddler and Leon would give a very lengthy explanation of the anti-capitalistic ideology and how much he hates how taxes are broken down. It would be even funnier when she starts to talk and he becomes the designated person she goes to when seeking answers to anything on her mind.

“Daddy, is the moon made of cheese?”

“Yes, I think it’s made out of mozzarella”

“Really? So does that mean cheese balls are moon rocks?”

“Exactly sweetheart”

He loves to entertain her, to make sure he keeps up with her curiosity and interests no matter how silly they are. In a way, this is how he protects her innocence and makes sure his daughter knows that he’s her friend, that he cares for her, and that she will always be safe with him. He tries very hard to keep all of the negative and toxic things he knows is out in the real world away from his kid and household all together, prioritizing her happiness and health above all else. That includes not mentioning anything about his job or what he does, and actively going to therapy so he can show up better than the last time she saw him. He tries every day to be the best dad he could be for his daughter, because he wants to be the father he never had, so he tries and that’s what matters.

His child knows that sometimes he has to go away for days to weeks at a time for work. She doesn’t fully understand what Leon’s job pertains to but just knows that he goes off to fight the bad guys. In her precious mind, she sees her dad as a superhero, looks up to him in admiration, and gets sad whenever he has to leave. But when it’s time for him to part ways with his family, she gives him a big hug and words of encouragement and love. She sticks out her small pinky finger, which Leon curls with his. It was part of his good luck ritual, making sure to pinkie promise his return and that he’ll be safe and he never breaks his promise. He always adored how her eyes carried the same determination he has when he’s focused on his missions. 

“Promise to be back daddy?”

“I will sweet pea. I’ll always come back for you”

When it comes to him out on the field, he usually doesn’t keep any form of identification on him as a safety precaution, so he keeps stuff like his wedding band at home. But his daughter will give him a friendship-beaded bracelet to carry with him, and he’ll wear it proudly on the opposite wrist that isn’t occupied by his watch. It’s not visible to others because of his gloves, but the weight of it against his skin is what keeps him going and keeps him motivated as he takes out any threat that presents itself. When he returns home no matter how his body feels, his daughter is the first one to come running towards him with that wide smile on her face. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly as if she will disappear at any moment, and he will continue to do that for as long as he can.

Leon and his daughter are two peas in a pod, she is his missing piece and makes him feel whole with every moment they share. He’ll do anything to make his daughter happy, and he doesn’t mind being wrapped around his baby girl’s finger, because that’s where he belongs. 

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[oklotea]

Guys i'm ngl...... I feel like in certain ways

Sparrow is....

Sparrow is.......

A fucking poser 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Like, his punk rock energy extends to only clothing and attitude, but he doesn't hold onto punk values strong enough to actually rebel against the destiny system. He's shallow in his punk identity, and honestly, that's one of the few sins I truly cannot forgive despite how much I love this guy

If he were a true punk, he wouldn't have judged Raven by her destiny and feed into people's assumptions of her. He would have been one of the first people to question destiny, (even if at the time before Raven's legacy day declaration, things were too dangerous to take action and rise up against headmaster grimm). He would HATE a huge majority of royals and probably steal from them constantly (I would support him I'm ngl). And. And. probably be on the more cynical side of things. With him being one of the first to see just how obviously torturous and unfair the destiny system is, that would explain his loner attitude and how he avoids the rest of his more wealthy and privileged peers.

Idk man!!!!! This isn't to say that I hate sparrow's canon character just cause he isn't a real punk... Sgdhrhehfbsf no, I think a poser Robin Hood is an immensely interesting concept. AND it holds potential for character development, I just won't be diving into all those missed potentials to further develop sparrow's character here

All this just to say...... Sparrow isn't a proper representation of a punk. And I'm pretty sure the show acknowledges this. It recognizes that sparrow is selfish, he has no intention to give back to the community, and instead focuses on stealing from the rich and giving to himself, and we don't ever see him ever truly worry about anyone less fortunate than he is.

I'm pretty we all know this so. Why did I even make this post?!?? Uhhhmmmm!?????

Well, I'm just thinkin about.... A concept for an AU. An AU in which Sparrow is an actual punk character, a rambunctious idiot with an actual cause, and idk!!!!! Shit I kinda hope for in a punk character.

A poser Robin Hood is a concept you can do a lot with.

But a real anti authoritarian punk born into the world of Ever After? Put in a place where the literal RULES OF THE UNIVERSE make it seemingly near impossible to make any true change? And having to cope with that?????

I can make something out of that. And it's a version of Sparrow that the more I think about the more interesting I feel like it would be to explore

Anyway that's it have a good day everyone

[siolixz]

ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

+18

Part 2

<Part 1> <Part 3: final>

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and she changed based on everything around her.

Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 pls take everything with a grain of salt. Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive. 

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

 You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.  

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames. 

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.” 

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

 Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him. 

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you. 

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking?  That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz? 

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now.  You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger. 

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die. 

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

 He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you. 

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”,  he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair.  You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

 He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

 He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that. 

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

 This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working. 

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

 Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened. 

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue. 

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex. 

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this. 

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog. 

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. 

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again. 

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.” 

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen. 

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

 You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements. 

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him. 

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you. 

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure.  “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you. 

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

[daemon-in-my-head]

I think a prerequisite to understanding Durge and Gortash is understanding the movie Midsommar and its ending. Or rather, how people get lured into cults. It's probably weird to some, but people do incredibly fucked up shit as long as they're lonely enough. As long as they are starved of enough affection.

These guys were completely isolated. One murdered everyone they ever knew without meaning to, only to be snatched up by the person that would manipulate them, and the other one was rejected and discarded by everyone they loved before his brain could even develop properly. They were alone. The entire fucking world rejected them. Nobody batted an eye when they were suffering far beyond what anyone should have to go through. Everyone that mattered to them disappeared in the blink of an eye. At least Gortash certainly spent years like that, for Durge it's implied but tbf the initial event alone would've been traumatic enough.

And then, eventually, when they were at complete rock bottom, after suffering so much, so long, someone came along and offered them acceptance. Offered them affection, offered them the chance to belong somewhere. To have a place to be, a role to play. To be someone. To find people with the same mindset. To find people to admire and to be admired by. They were offered an escape from the overwhelming loneliness and grief. They were offered to be accepted for once.

People will ruin themselves to fit in or to gain the love of another. And they did just that. They blindly ran into the knife because they were promised to belong for once. Because of the simple promise they wouldn't be rejected.

It doesn't rectify what they did, but gods is it understandable that they did what they did. People have done worse for less. They are vile. They're monsters. They're horrible beings. But they were conditioned into it. They were manipulated to such a frightening degree that they willingly chose to follow masters who would torment them even after death, knowing what they were getting into, but still choosing it just to escape the fucking loneliness. They gave themselves up just to belong. They certainly are to blame, but so are the people who's sins they've inherited.

And just to be clear, that's also the major difference between Karlach and Gortash. Karlach initially grew up being somewhere, being accepted, being loved. Yes, she, too, was betrayed and sold, but she was an adult when it happened. She knew love. She knew what it was like. She could rely on that glimmer of a hope that the world didn't outright despise her. Gortash didn't. He was sold as a fucking child. He never knew. He didn't have the resources. He was just fucking desperate and already broken and crushed in ways you could never break Karlach. She had loving parents. Gortash's mother wished she would've killed him before he was even born. Karlach was loved once, Gortash has ever since been told the world would've been a better place if he simply didn't exist.

Also, congratulations, this makes durgetash so much more painful to think about. Cuz they were willing to reject whatever helped them survive for the affection of one another.

[baby-yongbok]

I loved the chan needs you post, so hear me out…Lee know realises he needs you…! I feel like he would take some time to actually figure out he doesn‘t just think you are attractive and like a cool fun person to be around, but that he genuinely starts to take an interest in you and who you are. I think it would hit him hard…and just imagine how he would look at you, full of adoration and need😩

Picture this with me 💭

This wasn’t part of the plan. When he met you he thought you were cool and kinda cute… okay he thinks that you’re really cute, breathtaking actually, but he had every intention of just being your friend. 

It’s been years since you’ve first been introduced to each other and you’ve developed a friendship like no other. It’s gotten to the point where his favorite thing to do is spend time with you and the cats. You get along with all of the members but you and him spend the most time together. You’re always texting and calling each other. You spend your days off on pointless facetime calls while you’re getting stuff done. It’s the ultimate friendship. You’re the person that he goes to when he’s stressed and needs a good laugh, you’ve seen each other go through every emotion humanly possible and he wouldn’t trade your friendship for the world. So why have his eyes been lingering over your frame for five extra seconds lately? Why does the sounds of your laugh make goosebumps rise on his skin and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in excitement? When you talk he shuts out the world around him, nothing else matters, nothing else exists. There’s only you. 

The two of you are supposed to be friends, just friends, but he keeps dreaming about you. He keeps waking up breathless and hard as a rock as he wonders how similar your laugh is to your moan. Every time he holds your hand he tries to memorize the feel of your skin. He can’t help but wonder if you would feel this soft against him. Would your back feel like silk against his chest as he holds you? Are the spots that make you laugh when he tickles you the same ones that’ll make you moan when he…He stops himself, You’re just friends. 

He reminds himself of this boundary everyday until he’s over at your place helping you cook dinner. You’re singing and laughing and messing with him and he can’t help but to take in the way that your eyes sparkle every time they meet his. You’re just friends. When you sit on the counter next to him and your shorts ride up his eyes rake over the exposed skin of your thigh. You’re just friends. He moves in front of you abandoning his mixing bowl. You’re just friends. You don’t stop him when he places his hands on your thighs, his voice wavers, his breath catches in his throat. You’re just friends? He wonders if you’ve always been this beautiful, has your skin always had this glow? You’re just friends? Your touch makes his heart skip a beat, his eyes search yours and yours his, your gaze drops, you’re looking at his lips. Fuck it. 

His boundary breaks and it all comes flooding in, no more denying it.

He loves you and he needs you now. 

You’re way more than a friend.

(Unedited)

✨️Masterlist✨️

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 3

I think some of you were looking for this?

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: WAR, fighting, guns, anxiety

Word Count: 1,800

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

Part 2

The explosion of brick and mortar behind you leaves your ears ringing. The drone strike you’d called in had saved your life, but the impact zone was a little too close for comfort. Looking around at the small pieces of debris raining down, you shrug your shoulders and can’t help but think that these pieces of rock are far more preferable than the bullets that it had been only moments ago.

You’ve bounced from place to place, helping out where you’re wanted – a few negotiations here, a few training courses there. You’ve been assisting SHIELD allies around the world for the last half of a year, hoping that the time and distance was helping Bucky get over your fuck up.

Not that you aren’t still in love with him – you knew you loved him then, and it hadn’t gone away. Even after the radio silence since you last spoke to him in the kitchen. 

You’ve been in contact with all the other Avengers since you left. Obviously you called Nat and Wanda as often as you could, and Steve every other time, and Sam when you needed someone to really talk to about situations like the one you’re in now. You’re looking forward to actually seeing everyone when you get out of this mess.

A static crackle permeates through your still ringing ears. Assuming it’s the commanding officer in charge of this mission, you give your head a little shake and a rough smack to your temple in order to clear the sound. 

When sound comes flooding back in, you press a finger to your in-ear communication device. “What was that, ma’am?”

“I said,” a distinctly male voice responds, “on your left.”

Your eyes light up at Steve’s voice in your ear. You peek over what’s left of the wall you’re hiding behind just in time to see him running full speed and leaping over your cover to land beside you. You holster your weapons and throw your arms around his wide shoulders, happy to see your friend in the flesh for the first time in what feels like forever. Steve puts one arm around you, the one holding the shield rising to deflect shots coming towards the two of you.

“‘Ma’am’!” someone laughs in your ear. “Man, that’s hilarious. It’s been so long that she’s forgotten what you sound like, Cap.”

You laugh along, happy to hear Sam’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long, Sammy. My ears just weren’t working when he said it.”

“I obviously need to work on my timing,” Steve sighs good-naturedly. Your smile widens further when you pull away to look at his face. He smiles down at you. “It’s good to see ya, kid.”

“You too, Cap.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not like we’re busy with something right now,” Sam grumbles jokingly as he flies over where you and Steve are to land on a rooftop just across the alley.

You step away from Steve completely to cup your hands up to your mouth and shout up at Sam, “It’s good to see you, too, buddy!” He bats his hand at you dismissively, taking off again as someone takes a shot at his position.

Your smile refuses to leave your face as you turn back to Steve and motion for him to follow. You dual wield your pistols and get back in the fray, Steve running at your side.You turn a corner and take down three enemies that were coming toward you, gathering ammo from their belts.

“So,” you start, “to what do I owe the pleasure, boys?”

“Do we need a reason to come see a friend?” Steve asks mock innocently.

“You do if said friend is in the middle of an active war zone.” You prop a hand on your hip to sass at Steve, pointing the other one over your shoulder and fire at the single combatant coming up behind you. They go down with a heavy thump. Steve lifts a brow.

You shrug self-assuredly, knowing that you’ve got great skills and not afraid to show it. You direct Steve further across the battlefield, making your way towards where the enemies have hunkered down.

“So?” You question again as you both settle inside a building that is miraculously still standing. “Are you going to make me ask Sam?”

“You go right ahead and ask me, baby girl,” Sam coos in your ear. You laugh delightedly and smile at Steve.

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “Let’s discuss this when we’re not about to die, alright?”

“10-4, good buddy.” You give Steve a proper salute and run away cackling, high on the feeling of having your friends with you again.

***

Hours later, you’re sitting in the medical tent, getting patched up. The nurse delicately pulls the needle and thread through the flesh of your upper arm, murmuring an apology when you flinch. You assure her not to worry, you wanted to save the numbing agent for the other soldiers that were hurt worse than you, anyway.

You look away from her kind but tired eyes when Steve and Sam part the entrance and walk into the tent. You smile up at them as they come to stand before your seated position. Sam grins and slaps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side.

The nurse chides him gently, asking you to please keep still. You apologize to her and shove Sam away, laughing at his fake-hurt expression.

“So boys,” you try again. “What brings you to my temporary corner of the world?”

Steve diverts his attention away from you to address the nurse still at your side.

“How long does she need to recover, nurse?” He asks her.

“Oh, she’s fine,” the nurse replies, finished with your sutures. She turns away to pack up her kit. “It’s just a scratch.”

Turning back around to you, she says, “Just as long as you don’t lift anything too heavy. Okay, honey?”

You nod reassuringly at her and jump off the bed. “Will do, Marta. Thanks!”

Joining the boys, you slap them each on their shoulders as you pass by. “Come on, since you’re being so secretive. Let’s go to my tent.”

You journey across camp, leading Steve and Sam to the bunks you share with a couple other women. Everyone is in the mess hall having a late dinner, so you’ve all got a few minutes to speak in private.

You flop down on your cot, fluffing your pillow behind you and bringing your favorite blanket up and over your lap. You scoot your feet backwards until you can circle your arms around your knees and lean your chin on them.

“Out with it, Stevie.”

Steve sighs and takes a seat on the cot across from you, Sam sitting beside your feet.

“Before you start freaking out –” Steve says, holding his hands up in a hold on, wait a minute gesture, “Nat is fine.”

“Nat!” you exclaim, lifting your head in alarm. “What happened to Nat? Is she okay?”

“Hey, he literally just said not to freak out,” Sam interjects, elbowing you in the shins. You kick lightly at him to get him to stop.

“She’s fine,” Steve repeats. “It’s just that her mission is taking a lot longer than we had originally anticipated.”

Phew, you think to yourself. You narrow your eyes at Steve before saying, “Don’t worry me like that, dude.”

Steve rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “I told you she was fine up front.”

You cross your arms over your knees and let out a huff as you place your chin on your forearms. You decide to let Steve say what he needs to say.

“Anyway,” he continues. “That means we need help with the next mission.”

“Okay?” You respond questioningly. “You know I don’t mind coming back, it’s just…”

You glance between Steve and Sam, letting the name hang in the air between you. Sam snatches it up and speaks it into existence.

“Bucky.”

You nod your head slowly and grimace. “Yeah.”

“Look,” Sam says, “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two, but that man’s been –”

Steve abruptly cuts him off. “Sam. Don’t.”

“And why the hell not?” Sam counters. “It’s not like she’s the one that screwed it up.”

You reach over and gently pat Sam on the leg, ending the argument between the two men before it can begin. “It’s alright, Sam.” You retract your hand, settling your legs into a criss-cross and worrying your fingers in your lap. You nibble on your lip before saying, “It kind of is my fault, though.”

“Bullshit,” he grumbles and crosses his arms. The material of his t-shirt stretches across his back and chest with the movement. You smile appreciatively, happy that Sam is always on your side, and rub your palm across his shoulder blades in a soothing motion. “Everything is always the Tin Man’s fault.”

“Sam,” you chide. “You can’t say things like that unless he’s here to argue with you.”

Sam harrumps and stops talking.

You finally turn back to Steve. “You know I only left to give him some space. As long as me being on this mission won’t bother him, you know I’ll do it.”

“That’s the thing…” Steve raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck, not meeting your eyes. You lift a brow, not liking the hesitation. “This is the undercover mission we were going to send you on.”

Your heart plummets in your chest hearing Steve’s words. A spark of anxiety burrows into your stomach, making you slightly nauseated. 

“Ah, that’s – uh…” You really don’t know what to say in response. Your mind spins, running through all the possible scenarios of reuniting with Bucky before he’s ready. Before you’re both ready.

Based on Bucky’s previous reactions, none of them turn out well.

You start picking at a hangnail on your finger, not meeting their eyes. Sam places his hand on your knee and squeezes gently. “Does Bucky…?” you begin.

“Ohhh yeah,” Sam chuckles, “he knows. Man, you should have seen Steve’s face when Buck asked –”

Steve’s long-suffering sigh cuts Sam off. He stands abruptly and walks the two paces to your cot, settling his hand on your shoulder and forcing you to look up into his eyes. “It’s not our place to tell you anything, Y/N. You and Buck can figure things out when we arrive back at base.”

“And when will that be?” You question, hoping beyond hope that you’ve got your dates wrong and the undercover mission isn’t actually set to begin two days from now.

“As soon as you’re packed,” Steve responds. 

He claps your shoulder and turns to grab Sam. Steve ushers him out to allow you the privacy to pack up your belongings.

Part 4

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[actuallysaiyan]

😈😈😈😈 *cue gremlin laughter* FWB prompt 12 with vegeta?

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it.” “…That’s going to be so easy.”

Vegeta wasn't an easy person to get along with. He brought you so much embarrassment too. He was just too much of a lot of things. But in reality, you had such a soft spot for him. You wanted to unravel the secrets of the Saiyan prince.

The only issue was that he was always keeping you at arms length. He wouldn't indulge in the romance with you. He wouldn't be soft with you. It became just light flirting and irritation. You also had to compete with Bulma. You didn't hate her, but you envied her so much.

And whenever you tried to make a move on Vegeta, he just kept pushing you away. Eventually, it turned into him and Bulma seemingly getting together. But one night, he arrived at your place. He was slightly disheveled and slightly angry.

"Ass up, now!"

You didn't need to be told twice. You got on your hands and knees on the bed, and Vegeta took no time to fuck you so good. He rocked your world. He showed you that Saiyans were in a league of their own. Orgasm after orgasm was pulled from you. And you begged him for more, even if your own body was telling you to take a break.

After that, Vegeta always came to you. Whenever he had needs, you would soothe them. But you couldn't help to develop feelings. It hurt at first because Vegeta wasn't romantic. He didn't get soft with you. He only grew more passionate as you two got more intimate and every time he fucked you, the more possessive he became.

"You're mine," he growls in your ear as he fucks into you harder and faster.

You wanted to pretend that those words weren't coming from his lips. You wanted to pretend that you didn't love it every single time he said it. But you did want to be his. You wanted to be the only thing that he craves.

The longer this continues, the more your heart aches. You hate the way you want him to be yours. You daydream about what kind of relationship you could have with him if things were more serious. And the more you think about it, the more you break your own heart. It was too difficult to keep going this way.

So tonight, when Vegeta drops by, you stop him from going too fast. He questions your hesitance.

"I just...if you're going to do this with me, I mean..." you're blushing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Make me see how much you love me."

Vegeta smirks and pushes you onto the bed, "Oh, that's easy..."

[inthemaelstrom]

So we're about six weeks out from another "most important election of my lifetime" and it's predictably making me literally sick to my stomach. When Trumpacabra got elected in 2016, I threw myself into politics in a way I never had in my lifetime and it almost wrecked me. I was one of those people who never voted for religious reasons (long, separate story) and I felt I had to make up for lost time. By the time 2020 rolled around, I was an unhealthy mess. I had stopped reading. Everything. When I wasn't watching MSNBC and political commentators obsessively, I started consuming absolute junk TV: home improvement shows, crack paranormal ghost hunter crap, etc. Things with no plot, no emotional investment, no danger. No fear.

Right before the 2020 election, old fanfic friends from my days in the Master and Apprentice Star Wars listserv found me and saved me.

They dragged me back into fandom, introduced me to Discord, and got me writing again. I updated a story I hadn't touched in 5 years. I made new friends online and in RL. I got some great fiction and fic recs from those friends and discovered a subgenre called Hopepunk—low stakes fiction with very little if any violence and fear and with happy endings. (Becky Chambers writes a lot of what I read, and Amy Crook has also become a favorite.)

One morning, I had one of those really vivid, realistic, linear plot dreams that literally dragged me out of bed to the keyboard. It was a meet-cute modern au of The Phantom Menace's characters, set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I cranked out about 2000 words the first day. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. And so on every damn day for the next four years until I had four novels, about 668k words, several timestamps written by three other collaborators who've come on board, some beautiful art I've been allowed to use, and now a fifth book in the works.

This is the Yooperverse.

It's not just The Fic That Saved Me, it's the place where I'm writing a vision of what the world could be like into being. A place where people with fucking obscene amounts of money don't spend it on themselves, or hoard it, or exploit other people to get more, but use it to help other people. It's a place where people who are bigoted dicks either get their comeuppance and crawl back under their rocks, or learn better and do better. It's a place where abused kids get rescued, everybody gets therapy and healthcare and is paid a living wage, people learn to value themselves and each other, and protect each other and defend each other. It's kinky and queer (although I'm neither) and above all, if not entirely safe to be both, I'm trying to write both things as just being another setting on the dryer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's not a utopia, by any means, because there are still assholes and the government is still ... the government, and capitalism is still a thing. There's some danger, especially in the first book, and there are accidents and illnesses and the vagaries of life. In the middle of the series, I had spinal surgery and was out of commission for a few months and that made me start thinking more about my main character dealing with aging and the limitations thereof. There's a LOT of mental health issues and the working through thereof, and a lot of ongoing process. Nobody's perfect. The world outside is still pretty much what it is. But in the little corners where my characters dwell, life is pretty dang good, sometimes great.

It's a vision of a life we all deserve. It's the thing I loved about Star Trek's universe, where people's basic needs are cared for and the obstacles to them developing their best selves removed. It's what I've loved about science fiction in general, especially Ursula LeGuin's: that opportunity to explore possibilities that are better than the present. It's modeled on the MacArthur Genius grants, but you don't have to prove your worthiness first. My main character invests in people's potential, young or old, with scholarships and grants and a steadying hand. His partner builds low or no-cost housing for people in need. There's an informal network of queer and straight kid rescuing going on under the noses of unfriendly governments and failed social service safety nets. The main characters build refuges, literal and emotional. They love each other fiercely and respectfully.

Right now, we're living in a country that is almost the antithesis of these ideas, for far too many of us. People are being manipulated by their fears, which are stoked by unscrupulous, lying shitbag politicians whose all too real evil would never make it past the pitch if you were going to try to sell it as a TV show or movie. They're consciously turning us on each other with lies about our common humanity, about the state of our country, about who and what's responsible for many of its faults, sewing suspicion and hate. And though the Yooperverse started as my personal comfort fic, I'm trying in my very small way to counteract what's happening in the world right now.

I've always believed in the power of story to change people's minds and lives, and I've experienced it myself. When I talk about story, I don't just mean fiction, though. I mean the narratives we tell ourselves and others about our own lives as a whole and day by day or moment by moment. I mean the stories we tell about each other when we're together, at the bar, at wakes, at a party. I mean the stories we invest in as fans in whatever kind of media we consume. I mean the stories we spin for ourselves and others to explain what the everloving fuck is wrong with the world.

Stories aren't separate from the world, they are the world. They tell it into being. They give it shape and purpose and meaning and a sense of possibility. Whatever stories we tell ourselves or each other about how things should be or how we should act as human beings (also called our "beliefs" or "morals" or "ethics"), they shape us, and we shape society. We are society, both together and as individuals. One person with a big voice and a story can tip a mass of people into either violence or solidarity.

I have no illusions that the Yooperverse will ever have that kind of power. It has a tiny audience on AO3 and Discord and it's mostly written for me to explore the things I feel deeply about, and wish I could do, and to teach myself to be a better person and live up to my own ideals. It's a world I'd like to manifest, to call into being, even in a small way. Even if it's just a story.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Summer Fling Part 9/10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary - Reader has landed a research job at a marine biology lab in Portugal. She is, therefore, staying with her sister and her sister's Portuguese boyfriend for the summer holidays. There she meets Ruben Dias who is on vacation with his friends after the 2024 Euros. However, the two meet under the circumstances in which Ruben believes that Reader is a prostitute.

Enjoy ☀️

The winds were rough just off the coast. The ocean waves caught Gavin's boat in a turbulent storm drifting you further and further away from land.

"Where are you taking me?" You held onto the railings on the upper deck, watching Gavin steer his yacht right into the epicenter of approaching gray clouds.

"Gibraltar!" He shouted over the sound of  waves slapping against the side of the yacht, whipping it side to side. "I'll take us as far as the mediterranean islands. Ever heard of Malta? I'm sure you'll love it there."

"You'll never get away with this!"

"You're damn right I won't, I just fucking shot a man." He laughed.

"Then why are you doing this?" I thought you were a marine biologist?"

"I am. But darling let me tell ya, it doesn't pay as good as my other passions."

"You mean pimping out girl's to rich men?"

Gavin shook his head, a sly grin on his lips as he stepped away from the wheel of the boat. You held onto the railings but backed off as he approached you.

"I should have known who you were when I first met you. You and your sister share the same gullible face. She came to me willingly, you know. Asking me for a job that would grant her stay in Portugal. You on the other hand would rather count fish at the zoo than let a man treat you for a night."

"A man maybe, but not you…"

He smiled, playing with the strap around his waist. The strap that carried his gun. "I was like you once. Young and naive, committed to my research in hopes of making the world a better place. Here is a newsflash for ya sweetheart, the world is a fucked up place and no matter how hard you try to get the bad guys to stop doing bad things, the bad guys always win. Especially those with pockets full of money."

"So that's it, you just decided to join them, become a bad guy yourself?"

He held out his arms, "I'm doing fairly well, aren't I? And trust me, I'm doing more for marine life than any of those stuck up scientists in the universities you praise. All they do is count seaweed samples while I'm out here doing the real heavy lifting.

"You mean taking advantage of young girls for your own benefit."

"For the ocean's benefit!" He shouted.

You lost your footing for a second, gripping your bubbling stomach. The rocking of the boat did nothing to mend your  rising seasickness.

"Do you know how much time and money I've put into developing the marine station? Sure, the university gave me the permit to build it. However, I'm the one funding every piece of equipment that allows the students to perform diligent research, practical research that doesn't just end up on a chart in some ecology majors powerpoint presentation. I'm trying to change the world Y/N and I really thought you would appreciate that. Perhaps even help me collect the funding like your sister does." Gavin reached out, caressing your trembling cheeks, his thumb tracing your lips. "You would've been my favorite out of all the girls."

You hunched forward, throwing up your last meal, which appeared to be milk and cornflakes. Gavin jumped out of the way not to stain his shoes. "For fucks sake." 

He grabbed you by the arm, leading you downstairs into one of the suits. You fought him at first but let him get you out of your stained clothes. You were handed a towel to wipe your mouth while Gavin stood back, watching you with a predatory gaze, his hand reaching down to unzip his pants.

"No, wait."

He grinned, a cold grin that sent a shiver down your spine. It faltered however, with the sound of a drumming engine heard overhead.

"Fucking coastgards."

"Help, help. I'm down here. Help!"

"You shut your fucking mouth."

You winced. Gavin lunged forwards, slapping you across the face. He then drew his weapon, pressing the gun against the back of your neck. "One word." He gritted, pushing you out of the suit. 

You came around the corner, expecting to come face to face with the local coast guards. However…

"Y/N!"

"Ruben!"

His eyes narrowed at the sight of Gavin, standing behind you with a gun to your back.

"Y/N are you alright—"

"Ah, ah, another step and she dies."

"Hey man." Ruben threw his hands up. "We don't want any trouble, the police are already on their way."

"We?"

Spotted in the corner of your eye, something came rushing towards you.

"Argh!" Gavin went down, hands covering his face.

"That's for Diogo." Maki threw the hammer she held aside, grabbing Gavin's gun that had slid away from him. He lay squirming in pain, blood gushing out from the wound in his head. "And this…" Maki stood over him, angling the gun. "...This is for my sister."

"Maki, no!" You rushed to stop her. "Don't do it. He's not worth it."

"He shot Diogo." She said, the gun trembling in her hand.

"Please." You pleaded. "I don't want to lose you. If you kill him, I will."

She fought herself, her finger hovering over the trigger. 

"Please, Maki, don't do it."

Tears streamed down her face as she lowered the gun. You took it away, handing it to Ruben for safe keeping, pulling your sister into your arms.

"I'm so sorry." She cried. "This is all my fault. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I know. I'm sorry too."

The sirens from the police boats approached in the distance. What could have been had come to an end. You were safe. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[peachdoxie]

Thoughts on Wind and Truth, chapters 7-9 (whoa, three whole chapters!)

They brought the horse. They literally brought the storming horse. With Adolin riding it.

lmao

“No,” she said. “People stop thinking about them. They fade away after centuries… to be lost. Their sword vanishes from your world, and they wander forever.”

Well, that's sad but consistent with Realmatics, I guess. Hopefully they can fix things....

Ishnah: short, not particularly curvaceous, and with a striking tendency to use her Lightweaving to give herself edgy tattoos and black fingernails.

c'mon Shallan, step up your game. Give yourself edgy tattoos and black fingernails!

But then she thought back to a moment at the Battle of Thaylen Field where she could have sworn she’d felt the illusory versions of Radiant and Veil as if they were briefly real. It wasn’t the only time, was it? When one of her illusions had been a little too solid?

Yes, finally, this comes back! Also I'm unsure what the last sentence is referencing, if it's supposed to be calling back to something or foreshadowing to the rest of Shallan's Mysterious Past, or maybe both.

So she hugged him.

Kelek has probably needed this hug for several millennia

Yes, a rock. Dull brown. Huh. “Oh, sorry!” Leyten said. “I didn’t put that in there.” He reached for it, but Kaladin slipped it back in.

Can't wait to find out more about mysterious rocks showing up in places.

“Lusintia,” Syl said. “She’s an absolute bore. No fun at all. I didn’t expect her to join us.”

fucking foreshadowing in chapter 5 when Shallan couldn't find Lusintia. Anyway. GOOD FOR DABBID!!!!!!!!!

She sucked up the Stormlight Lashing her in place. Then, with nothing holding her up, she dropped to the beads after Adolin.

Huh. That's new. I don't think we've seen someone use a Lashing for Stormlight except the person who made it. I wonder if there's Identity fuckery going on with Shallan's "Be. Drehy" thought the line before.

All agree the first key moment came when Kaladin Stormblessed listened. Though not an Edgedancer, he did a fine impression of their oaths.

Confirming Kaladin is NOT the author of Knights of Wind and Truth and also yay, Kaladin listening!

One solemnityspren—rare indeed—spiraled up around him, like an almost invisible grey-blue serpent.

First gloomspren and now solemnity spren. Kaladin just loves attracting weird spren. No offense intended to Syl.

My brothers and sisters are mad from so long with life, but I am sane because I bathe in the blood of Radiants, which renews me.

This is definitely something a sane person would say.

“Afraid of everything,” she continued. “Terrified. Of the world. Of what might happen to my family. Most of all, of myself. I always have been.”

It's interesting to me that we now get a more full explanation of Shallan's Second Ideal, which shows that she's gone through some nice character development to be able to admit that she's afraid of herself.

Radiant formed behind the Heavenly One, made of Stormlight, her head nearly brushing the roof. A Radiant, as Shallan imagined her. Taller than Shallan, stronger, with powerful biceps and a thick neck from extensive training. Hair in a braid, rather than Shallan’s messy, fraying bun. Strong—of a different genre of strength than Shallan—with a Shardblade in hand. Abidi the Monarch laughed. “An illusion?” he said. “You think I’ll be distracted by something unreal?” He continued laughing until the Shardblade speared him from behind, spilling orange blood on his fine white outfit.

GET FUCKED

“Reality,” Shallan hissed, “is what I decide it to be.”

Go Shallan! This is also a terrifying statement!

[paper-mario-wiki]

Your Trollsona is such a damn cool concept! I love the sheer insanity that the RPS unfolds into and I gotta ask, how does their Captchalogue and Fetch Modi work? Those are always another fun bonus way characters quirks are shown

Not quite!

The Sylladex object recovery and creation system is COMPLETELY separate from the RPS system.

Total mastery of the RPS fractal would be DESTRUCTIVELY OVERPOWERED, considering if you knew exactly how each object interacts with the other, you'd be able to instantly resolve any conflict with a single action no matter what. But this is near impossible because the RPS catalogue accounts for all possible concepts, not all possible objects. This is why a double-sided barcode is used instead of the typical hole punch system. You can't captchalogue a kick in the nose, after all.

Each line in the barcode represents a single binary digit. With each digit added, the amount of possible values goes up exponentially. Within only 10 lines in the barcode, 1024 values are possible. But what's even MORE exponentially gigantic is having it be double sided, because then it squares itself instead of just doubling itself. So a two-sided ticker tape with 10 bars on each side would be 1024^2, or 1,048,576 different values. And that's with a code that fits within the circumference of a nickel.

However, if you refer back to the gif with the ticker in it:

That's WAY more than a nickel's length.

And that’s an absolute necessity, because every possible concept must be accounted for. The system is pretty fucking wildly, multiversally, insanely gigantic. Hence the need for extremely dense data to get anywhere.

And even then, the bar code doesn’t actually grant you access to the item that its value represents. The only thing it does get you is access to all relative values, or everything that interacts with that object in a meaningful way. The RPS Chart acts as a gigantic excel spreadsheet which catalogs and calculates how one thing could reasonably negate, counteract, subvert, or otherwise destroy another thing, and vice versa.

You can't just KNOW where something is on a fractal, you have to find it. Like how theoretically you could find every single number combination within the digits of pi, but you'd still have to go looking for it.

Imagine it like playing the Wikipedia game, where you can only get from one place to another by clicking through links on pages, except instead of words with context on a screen, it’s dozens to thousands of arbitrary binary digits. The longer the code, the more quantumly hyper-specific the item.

You're going to have a lot easier of a time finding "cup of water" than you are "Betty McLaughlin's Red Diary From 1997".

This is why Kippyr has to spend as much time studying it as they do, because navigating through the chart with any amount of grace would take several human lifetimes to accomplish. However, with the Seer of Mind classpect, as well as their countless hours of diligent observation and experimentation with the chart, Kippyr is able to gracefully navigate through the fractals with the instinctual finesse of a sea turtle in an underwater slipstream.

NOW. Onto the topic of a Fetch Modus.

Kippyr is a slow adopter of it. Fetch modi are not a necessary element in the Homestuck world’s set of natural laws. For the majority of their life, Kippyr'd prefer to just use their satchel and pockets to carry all their stuff around. But as they progress further into Sgrub, and their session becomes more demanding and complex, they’d eventually develop one that works seamlessly with the RPS system:

The RPS Modi. The way it works is simple: Just throw the shape of the object which would beat the object you’re looking for. If you wanted Rock, you’d throw Paper, if you wanted Paper you’d throw Scissors, and if you wanted Scissors you’d throw Rock.

Simple! Just don't forget the hand shapes :^]

[swifty-fox]

Sci-Fi Horror AU

idk kinda word vomited this tonight after trying a new strain. I will be continuing it into a full story but not sure when

Entry Log 2043

-DateStamp: 14th July 5399

-Location: DeepSpace Sector G8677-65HG-76789_I

-Personnel File: Maj. J.C. Egan (Zoot Suit) 

Recording_

“This is Major John Egan, callsign ZootSuit, aboard the vessel M’lle ZigZag. Today is the dawn of my final day of exploration, putting an end to a sixteen-month foray into DeepSpace. Initial findings reveal little of note. A few developing stars and planets; an asteroid belt; and a total of six planets, two of which I will be recommending for a second more thorough exploration of due to planets possibly location being within the ‘Goldilocks Zone.’ I look forward to whiskey, solid food and to breathe air that isn’t recycled from a fucking can. I can’t wait to fuck my husband-”

John pauses.

“Ah, computer erase the last seven words. Reasoning: Irrelevant to mission. I will be entering Hyperspace within the hour, once I hit proper trajectory to slingshot around the primary sun.”

He taps the record button to end the log, carefully labeling the file and placing it in a folder with the few thousand other logs he’d recorded over the last year and a half. A verified library of data, observations and the occasional love-letter. A year and a half of research; one of the longest expeditions ever undertaken by any pilot. Considered bold by some and risky by far more. Deep space played with people's minds, the long stretches of isolation broken up only by Hypersleep creating the perfect recipe for a light case of mental instability.John had trained for this, ran through thousands of psychological tests and millions of scenarios. There was not a person in the universe more capable of this task. 

John rubs his jaw, feeling the scratchy beard and spins out of his pilot's chair, leaving the computer to guide the craft. 

Moving about the cramped space of the craft, built to maximize storage space; and to minimize comfort in his opinion, he begins securing anything not already safely battened down. He shaves in the cubicle sized bathroom, splashes water across his face and ignores the swirling flickers of color and light around the edges of his sight. Jaw smooth save for the now carefully trimmed mustache - just how Gale liked- he makes his way to the tail of the spacecraft to run an inventory check on his samples. Moon rocks and space dust and asteroid dirt. Anything the computer pinged or John spotted in his long hours gazing out into the empty void of space. 

He checks a few straps, making sure they’re tension tight before hitting the override on the artificial gravity. He holds the intentionally placed handle as he slowly lifts from the metal walkway. Giving himself several seconds to adjust he uses the similarly placed handles along the wall to pull himself back over to the pilot's chair. A second check on the navigation systems; the mathematical calculations for his trip around the sun and through hyperspace. Much of the process was left up to the computer these days, but John hadn’t survived twenty one missions - one of the highest in the force save for a handful - by not being thorough. 

Finding nothing out of the ordinary he switches all the lights off until his world is lit only by the approaching Red Giant, bathing everything a warm red. System lights blink soothingly as he takes a moment to take in the vast wonder in front of him. Years now it had been, and it still never failed to leave him breathless.

“Computer, begin countdown to Hyperspace entry, one minute. Beginning LCHS procedure, eta one minute.”

John pulls himself to the economically sized bunk, slotting into the space that barely left room for him to stretch and roll over, strapping himself down. 

“32…31…Thirty Second To HyperJump’’  the computer announces.

Bucky presses two fingers to his lips and then to the photograph taped above his bed. Folded so many times the crease lines were white and soft to the touch, Gale’s face gazed back at him. Caught unawares he was smiling soft and curving, glancing somewhere behind the camera. Laughing at something John had said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t. His cheek was rested in one elegant hand, gold ring glinting in the sunlight; a carbon match to the one on John’s own finger. 

“Be seeing you soon Buck.” John adjusts himself against the organic synthetic fibers of the mattress below him.

Fifteen seconds the computer chirps warningly. John always thought she got a little testy in those last few moments, as if scolding an unruly child. 

John reaches for the pouch beside his temple, withdrawing the last pill from the sheathe. Soft baby blue and the size of a quarter, he’d been issued exactly sixty-five of them upon the start of his expedition. Enough to get him all the way to the furthest reaches of the known galaxy in the shortest amount of time. Seven more consecutive jumps than had been previously attempted. Anything more than thirty and Federal Law was a minimum six months rest and recuperation before attempting further jumps. Risks for brain bleeds, heart attacks and Z-Sum sleep went up with every extra jump. John had stopped only once, stretching to forty five jumps before stopping at the nearest C-Class Planet Simulator outpost to rest. It had been his last chance to speak to Gale before he exited the reach of all communications. Eight months since he had seen that smile in any medium other than this photo. 

A quiet, tense conversation. Buck hadn’t wanted him to go; knew better than to stop him. 

“You’ll be careful out there John?” Buck was the only one to never call him Bucky. To the public he was Egan, Major if they were being formal. In private it was John, always John. His husband was strange like that. 

“More careful than a cat in a rainstorm.” 

Buck hums and squints his eyes at him. Stress sat in heavy lines at the corners of his lips, between his brows and around his temples. It had been eight months since John had kissed that mouth, tasted Gale’s sweet noises on his tongue. 

“You have enough LCHS’s to get through? None of them are compromised?” 

“Buck.” John sighs, “Come on.” 

Gale runs a hand through his hair, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth “I know you know what you’re doing...” His deep voice rumbled through the comms, staticky and pale in comparison to the in person thing.

“It’s just your job.” John finishes, grinning at Bucks self-amused shrug. “I checked them all twice. No leakage, no discoloration.” 

“I love you.” 

It never failed to make John’s spine tingle, hearing those words spoken so easily and effortlessly. The Gale he had gone to flight school with was a reserved quiet thing; John was better off trying to space-walk without a suit than pull an ounce of vulnerability from the other man. The years had softened him - John had softened him. 

“I love you too sweetheart. I’ll see you in eight months.”

Ten seconds. 

John startles, the pill slipping from his fingers and drifting in the gloom. He curses and reaches for it, straining against the straps holding him down. His steady beating heart kicks into panic mode. 

For centuries mankind had struggled to break out of the tiny confines of their miniscule corner of the universe. Confined by things like time-space and the limits of the human life span versus the distance needed to travel to discover anything new. They’d languished away certain of it was their destiny to never walk amongst the stars. Until HyperSpace had been discovered. The miniscule pocket between the folded pages of space-time. A way to jump through matter from one corner of the galaxy to another - and further. It blew the doors wide open on space exploration. They could go anywhere, journey past the point of creation they could find it. 

The only thing holding them back was the side effects of HyperSpace. It didn’t seem to pair so well with the cranial contents of human beings. The tendency to turn ones brain to pure soup was a drawback that left researchers, scientists and theorists all stumped. SMall jumps were manageable, with migraines and dizziness a much more risk-acceptable outcome. But in order for them to make any real progress they would need to find a solution,

LCHS. Lysergic Cerebral Hibernation Synthesizer.

The miracle drug and the solution to their dilemma. Developed initially from LSD the drug soothed the more vulnerable edges of one's brain and put the subject in such a deep sleep it took a reversal injection to bring one back to the waking world. It was used recreationally now as well; a way of opening one's mind to the world beyond the physical dimensions. Where light and color and feeling weren’t senses but physical states of being. It kept their pilots down for the jump; kept them asleep to the journey home. 

Without it. Well. Nobody had made a waking Hyperjump in as long as John could remember, at least had done it and lived. 

Five seconds.

John hisses through clenched teeth, straining for that little blue pill, technology his husband had dedicated his life to. Logically they both knew it was unlikely Gale had made the exact LCHS’s that sustained John, but he knew the other man pretended he did either way. The level of care put into each new batch as if it was made for his beloved specially. 

Three seconds.

John risks freeing one of his shoulders from the straps so he can get better reach. “Come on” he hisses. Closes his fingers around the dosage.

Two seconds.

John lays back, shoves his shoulder back into the strap so quickly the velcro scrapes his skin raw. He lifts the pill to his mouth, pressing past his lips.

One second.

_

_

_

Entering Hyperspace. 

Gale. John thinks.

His brain turns to mush.

[reasonsmandy]

I know you can't lie to me

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by two anon —¹ can i request an eddie roundtree one shot/imagine where the fem!reader shows up to camila and eddie’s house warming party with a male friend giving the impression that they’re dating when really they’re just friends. eddie gets a little down about it/jealous and it all comes out somehow. maybe the reader says something like ‘by the way, my type is hot bass players in rock bands’ and goes to walk away but instead he kisses her sjsnsns TYSM <3

² can you write an eddie fic based on your “tell me no one can kiss you like i did, go on! i know you can't lie to me” prompt? need eddie saying this line to the reader after a break up or during a fight 🙏

✧.* summary — You and Eddie had a complicated relationship, but love was there more than any other emotion, the hard part was that your misscommunication made everything lead to a big misunderstanding.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 1.9k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist!

✧.* mandy's notes — This one was short but I loved it so much, I hope you like it too.

Eddie and you have always been something complex, you've always liked each other since the days when things were simple in Pittsburgh, but there was a pride in both of you that kept you from admitting that feeling. The two of you always had that getaway from rehearsals, making out in the corner of Chuck's garage and then when you moved to LA that spot moved to the vacant rooms at the record company.

But you couldn't lie to your heart, and your heart was lostly given to that bassist, every detail about him held you more in that passion, in that developing love. But you knew, or at least you thought you knew, that Eddie was a man of the world and you weren't the one to make him want something serious.

It was a fact that Eddie hung out with several women along with you, but no one actually knew the real reason, the deep meaning of it all.

Roundtree was madly in love with you since he was 14 years old, he was mesmerized by every little detail that combined you that made you be who you are, there wasn't a single thing that made him lose this image he had about you, you were his everything. But he always thought you didn't see him the same way, especially when you showed up with your first boyfriend all excited showing everyone in the band your new love, he felt his heart break for the first time… he was devastated.

He hated every second that this man spent there in the garage with them rehearsing, he hated just hearing this man's name, and his anger was only proven that day…

You entered the garage with your eyes swollen from crying, immediately Eddie drops his bass running towards you, Warren stops playing looking you out of the corner of his eye and soon the rest of the band stops playing.

"Hey princess, what's wrong?" Roundtree asks, grabbing your hands gently.

You let out a sob, hiding your face in his neck letting out your tears. "He cheated on me."

"I'm gonna fucking kill that bastard!" Eddie felt his blood boil, he would make that guy regret it. "Stay here, I'll take care of this."

"Eddie, you don't need to." You say through your tears, holding him closer to you. "Please stay, stay with me."

Roundtree felt his heart melt, he pulled you closer to him wanting to protect you from the whole world. "I will, but I won't let anyone do that to you and get away with it."

Warren walks over to you, patting your back in comfort. "I'm sorry niña, you don't deserve that."

Eddie waited for you to calm down, and as soon as he left you at home, he headed towards the place that that man would surely be. He was beaten up a lot that day, but he would definitely do it again, he would defend you in every way possible even if he ended up with a black eye.

That's the level of love he feels for you, he would and still does anything to see that smile he is so passionate about on your face. But there was one day that will always stay in his mind, the day you kissed for the first time, the day he felt the most wonderful person alive.

Billy wanted you to practice even though the winter cold was freezing your bones. You were pissed about it but you didn't have much to do, so Eddie arranged to pick you up to go to Chuck's house. He was shaking in front of the door of your house, waiting for you to open it and when you appeared at the door he felt his heart miss a beat, as always you were stunning.

Eddie noticed how you shivered and decided to do something about it. He took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, pulling you close to him for warmth. As he wrapped his arm around you, he whispered in your ear, "You're like a snowflake, you know?"

You turned to him, a quizzical expression on your face. "What do you mean?" you asked.

"I mean, you're unique and beautiful in your own way, just like a snowflake," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "You have different shapes that always surprise me and make me want to see more of you to know every different shape. And when the sun hits a snowflake, it reveals all its intricate details and the beauty of it's nature. It's the same with you, snowflake. You're more beautiful when you show your true self, every little thing about you is so fucking beautiful."

You felt your heart skip a beat as you listened to him. "Snowflake?" you repeated, a small smile forming on your lips.

Eddie nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, snowflake."

You leaned in and kissed him for the first time, feeling his warmth and love envelop you. The cold weather was forgotten as you savored the moment, it was just the two of you and nothing else mattered.

You never named whatever it was you had, and it left you both very confused.Pride and fear of rejection made you stay only as hookers and nothing more, and it was on lonely nights where all Roundtree wanted was to be with you, feel you close, kiss you, love you… that he got extremely high or drunk, called any girl he had in mind to make him forget you. But no one could make that happen.

Seeing his attitudes you felt like you were just one more, and little by little your insecurities made you take that more and more as the truth. So you decided to move on by force, try to forget him, forget the way he makes you feel, so that's why you were on your way to Camila and Billy's housewarming party with a guy you met a few days ago.

You knew it wasn't right to use someone to make someone jealous, or to use someone to get over someone else, but what could you do? He couldn't be the only one having fun out there.

You entered the house with his hands on your waist, people's attention went towards you and soon the drummer approached accompanied by a woman with curly hair. He had his arm around her shoulders as always with a smile on his face.

"Well look at her." Warren says, with a warming voice. "Who is this guy niña?"

"This is Samuel, Samuel… this is Warren." You introduce them, Warren shakes the hand of the man who smiles at him the length.

Eddie was walking down the stairs with Camila, his mind occupied with thoughts about Billy's recent behavior towards Daisy on TV. As they descended the staircase, Eddie's eyes caught sight of you standing with a man. His heart sank as he saw the man's hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it tightly.

He felt his blood boil as he approached you, barely acknowledging the man beside you. "Hey," he said, his voice laced with jealousy as he turned to you. "What's going on?"

You looked up at Eddie, surprised to see him there. "Oh, hey Eddie," you said, smiling at him. "This is Samuel, a friend of mine."

Roundtree looks the man up and down, ignoring what you say and just nodding. "I'm gonna go get a drink." He murmurs, turning to go to another corner of the party.

Seeing you with another man was the biggest torture in the world, he couldn't see anything but the way that guy held you close to him. He was so pissed that you could see smoke through his ears.

Camila was next to him trying to develop a conversation, which was not going forward since Roundtree did not pay attention to anything she said, when she notices the bassist's distraction she stops talking trying to find what had him so distracted.

"If you like her so much, why not tell her right away?" Camila says, catching the bassist's attention.

"What are you talking about?" Roundtree says, lighting a cigarette. "We only hooked up a few times... That's it."

"Why do I feel like you don't even believe that?" Camila looked directly into his eyes, refuting him.

"She doesn't like me, Cami." Eddie finally turns to look at her. "And nothing will change her mind"

"Are you blind Ed?" Camila says, holding the boy's shoulders. "You've been crazy about each other since I've known you."

Eddie just looked at her, without saying anything. "I don't know, maybe it was all in my head."

"Are you going to get the benefit of the doubt?” Camila asks, looking at you and Samuel across the party. “Are you going to risk losing your snowflake?”

When Camila mentions the nickname he feels a tightness in his chest, he watches you smile at that man and the fear of losing you was devastating. Camila was right, he needed to do something.

He leaves her alone going towards the two of you, the eyes of the duo go towards the blonde who had a closed face, serious expression.

Eddie barely glanced at Samuel before turning back to you. "Can we talk for a second?" he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, feeling a bit confused. Eddie took your arm and led you away from Samuel, his grip tight on your wrist. You winced at the pressure, but didn't say anything.

"Is everything okay?" you asked, looking up at Eddie.

"Who's that with you?" He's direct, his hands never leave his waist as he keeps his face straight.

"I already told you, his name is Samuel…" You start to say but he cuts you off.

"Are you fucking him, snowflake?" He seems troubled, and you are taken aback by his questioning.

"What?" You say, looking at him with shock in your eyes. "Do you have anything to say to me Roundtree?"

"I made myself clear, didn't I?" His voice was low, he watched you intently.

"What's fucking wrong with you?" You were getting pissed, not understanding why he was doing this. "Now that's it, you can date whoever you want and I can't?"

"It's not about that snowflake! I know you don't like this guy." He says, holding your waist.

"What makes you so sure, uh?" You ask, approaching him.

"Does he kiss you the way I do?" He whispers, looking directly at your lips. "Tell me snowflake, I know no one can kiss you like I did, tell me he kisses you the way I do and I'll leave you alone! Go on, I know you can't lie to me”

You felt your blood boil, what the fuck did he want from you? You look away trying to contain the urge to kiss him and end all that fucking scene.

"I'm waiting… answer me." His voice was calm, meek and velvety reaching your ears like a sweet melody.

You roll your eyes. "Fucking hell Roundtree!" you say before kissing him with every desire in your being, he immediately grabs your waist wanting you all to himself, wanting that moment to last forever.

When you pull apart for air, he still has his hands on your face, stroking your cheeks. You approach him, placing a peck on his lips.

"You're right Roundtree, no one kisses me like you do." You whisper in his ear, turning to leave. You stop midway, turning to him once more. "Oh and by the way, my type is hot bass players in rock bands"

The blonde smiles when he sees you leave, taking another cigarette to light. "Oh snowflake, send that bastard to hell and come back to my arms."

You laugh at his words, saying goodbye to your colleague to spend a night with your favorite bassist, finally fulfilling all your desires from many years.

...

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