#two catty bastards in love

[avernusreject]

My headcanon is that while the party travels Astarion and Tav, when they're in a romance, spend their time snarking about the party and the different quests like the old muppets in the box

[youngpettyqueen]

Third Doctor and Brigadier are literally married like what else am I supposed to think after every single interaction they have

[navybrat817]

Back Off, He's Mine

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You put an agent in her place after she flirts with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 2.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader or Bucky), protective vibes, catty behavior, possessive vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an anon ask asking for Bucky's wife to stick up for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at you from across the break room table, his pretty blue eyes not blinking as you looked back at him. The two of you were locked in a lengthy staring contest and you didn’t want to lose. But as the air in the room began to dry your eyes and he flashed you a beautiful smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking. And the moment you did, he struck.

Snatching the last bit of the beloved pastry right from the middle of the table.

“Damn it,” you muttered, crossing your arms when he chuckled. “You cheated.”

“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, making a show of taking a slow bite. Your eyes followed his tongue licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. The bastard made eating look sexy and he didn’t even take a full bite. He was taunting you. “How did I do that?”

“You cheated by existing.” You gestured to him, your smoking hot husband in his black t-shirt and tactical pants. To the person who made those clothes, you saluted them. “And you have serum in your veins, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have to blink as much as I do and that’s an unfair advantage.”

He chuckled again, graciously passing over the last small bite of the pastry. Your eyes lit up in thanks, popping it in your mouth with a moan. It was true love to share food like that. “I don’t think that’s how the serum works,” he teased. “And you’re a goddess, so isn’t that cheating, too?”

“Okay, but I’m not actually a goddess,” you countered, though he did make you feel like one.

His eyes softened, leaning across the table and crooking his finger. “Yeah, you are,” he whispered, kissing your lips once you met him halfway.

Before you could deepen the kiss, a shrill voice rang out in the breakroom. “Sergeant Barnes! There you are!”

Bucky’s cheek twitched as he settled back in his seat. The voice echoing in the room would’ve been enough to make anyone wince, but his enhanced hearing made it worse. He worked hard to block out noises so he’d be comfortable, and your eyes instantly narrowed at the person who brought him discomfort.

You recognized her after a moment, a pretty woman who would likely fall out of her top if she sneezed too hard. She hadn't worked there long, but she had her eye on Bucky from the start. She always flirted with him, tried to stand close to him and push her chest close, and he always dropped in the conversation that he was a married man. Apparently she didn’t get the hint that he wasn't interested. Either that or she was into taken men.

“Hi, agent,” Bucky politely said.

“Agent. Always so formal,” she giggled, dragging a chair over from another table and taking a seat without asking. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Barnes. You're a hard man to track down.”

Bubbly agents didn’t bother you in the slightest. You appreciated anyone who could stay upbeat in the line of work you dealt with. It wasn’t the enamored look in her eyes either that bothered you because you understood people wanting Bucky and you were secure in your relationship. No, what bothered you was that he had clearly been kissing his wife and she pointedly avoided looking at you after interrupting. That was just rude.

It also bothered you how uncomfortable Bucky looked when she moved her chair closer to him, his shoulders stiff and smile not reaching his eyes.

“Been spending some time with my wife,” he said proudly, reaching across the table to take your hand. You dipped your head down with a small smile, your heart still doing that funny flip like it had since the moment you met. He even managed to clear out the room so you two could be alone. “We were just finishing up.”

She didn’t spare you a glance as she set a hand on his metal arm. His cheek twitched again, squeezing your hand. It took a lot of effort for you to not knock her back from the table for touching him without his permission. “Excuse me,” you began, your tone even. “I don’t-”

“Do you think you could spar with me later?” she cut you off and either didn’t see or ignored your glare, leaning forward in her seat to make her chest stick out more. Bucky didn’t look. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of moves and you’re so good at them,” she added, her eyes on him like she wanted to eat him up.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

“I don't think…” he stopped when her fingers trailed higher.

“Please, Sergeant?” she pouted.

Your eyes went back to your husband to get a read on him and make sure he was okay. He wasn't. His smile still didn't look right and his back was ramrod straight. Squeezing his hand seemed to ground him since he breathed a little easier, though your anger was simmering.

“I, um, don’t mind sparring if you really need the help,” Bucky began, gently pulling his arm away. “But you interrupted my time with my wife.”

Her smile faltered while yours widened. Bucky didn't like anyone cutting you off, whether that was your time together or interrupting you speaking. “What?” she asked.

“Hi there. Been sitting here the whole time.” You wiggled your fingers when she finally looked your way. “Excuse us for a second,” you said, avoiding her stare the way she avoided yours. “Bucky, do you think you can wait outside? This agent and I need to have a little chat.”

Your husband looked like he was trying not to laugh and you would take laughter over discomfort any day of the week. “Be nice if you can,” he teased, pressing a featherlight kiss to your hand. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, something unspoken passing between the two of you.

Defending each other was second nature, always would be.

Bucky didn’t immediately leave the room when he stood up. Instead he rounded the table so he could bend down and kiss your mouth, too. You smiled as it lingered, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t keep me waiting out there long, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.

“I won't, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

Straightening up, he gave a small nod to the agent for her sake. “Come find me later if you still want to talk about sparring. Maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Okay, Sergeant,” she smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. That look wouldn’t last.

You waited until Bucky was gone to face the agent, who stopped smiling the second your husband was out of sight. Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and asked point-blank, “You trying to fuck my husband?”

The wide-eyed expression was priceless when she realized you weren't asking as a joke. “What are you... I just asked him to spar,” she tried to brush it off.

“Please, don't insult my intelligence,” you said. It was beneath both of you to do so. “I get why you want him. Besides being one of the sexiest creatures to ever exist, he’s a good man. Polite, probably treats you with respect. More than most of the men around here.”

She shifted away from you and nodded. “He's a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agreed. They didn't make men like Bucky anymore. “And I’m not going to tell you to stop hitting on my husband, but I highly suggest that you back off. At the very least, don’t throw yourself at him right in front of me. It’s sad.”

“Why?” She had the nerve to smirk. “Worried I’ll steal him away?”

You smirked, too. She had balls and you respected that, but this wasn’t a battle she’d win. “Steal him away? You make it sound like he’s a toy and he isn’t. He’s a man, my man,” you said, holding up your hand so she could get a good look at your wedding ring. “And you are not a threat in the slightest. Our bond is much stronger than that.”

Her smirk went away fast, replaced by something sad. You almost felt sorry for her until she said, “Jealousy isn't a good look on you. It’s kind of… ugly.”

You scoffed. If she wanted to play, you’d play. “Jealous of what? You hitting on a married man who doesn't want you?” you asked, not feeling guilty in the slightest when her face fell. “I’m not telling you to back off because I'm jealous. I told you that because you’re only going to embarrass yourself if you keep trying and you’re going to make my husband more uncomfortable than he already is. I don’t like people making my husband uncomfortable.”

An unspoken threat hung in the air long enough that she swallowed. “And how exactly did I make him uncomfortable?”

“Besides you hitting on him, you touched him without making sure it was okay to do so,” you answered, letting a bit of venom seep into your tone. Bucky went years without autonomy and consent was important to you. He suffered enough and didn’t need to deal with things like this. “I’d hope as an agent you’d be able to pick up on subtle body language cues enough to know that he didn’t want you touching him.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t want me touching him? Are you a mind reader or something?” she sneered, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her shirt. “If he really didn't want me touching him, he would've said so. And guess what? He didn't say a word.”

You saw red, your hands curling into fists. For her to ignore the nonverbal cues… “I know my husband. I know Bucky. He doesn’t want you touching him nor does he want to start anything with you because he’s extremely faithful. He won’t throw away a loving, trusting marriage for a quick fuck or doomed affair,” you stated. She bristled, but tried to recover. “If you make a pass at him, he’ll reject you. He’ll do it as respectfully as he can because he’s a good guy, but he will reject you. That’s a promise.”

“Because he loves you so much. Jesus, what makes you so special?” she spat, surprising you both. But the longer you looked at her, the more she deflated under your stare. “I mean… He doesn’t say much to me, but when he does it’s always about you. ‘My wife this’ and ‘my wife that’ and he’s always so… proud.” She shook her head. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

You did feel a little sorry for her now. Crushes hurt, but better that she hurt now and heal than to keep pushing and hurt more later. “I’m not special. We just love each other, that’s all. And, trust me, I’m aware that I’m very lucky to have him. Someone who gets me and will fight for and beside me,” you said, a loving smile touching your lips. You hoped Bucky was listening outside the door. “There’s a guy out there waiting for you, but that guy isn’t Bucky. So don’t lower yourself by trying to go after someone who’s taken.”

She side-eyed you, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “And what if I don’t stop?” she asked.

You giggled humorously, all sympathy gone. The agent actually looked nervous at that sound and you were glad because you weren't going to play nice. “Well, if you don't back off, Bucky could make a complaint about you harassing him or at least request that you’re transferred. Maybe fired since you’re still in your probationary period,” you began, looking at your wedding band when she began to protest. “At the very least, I could have your schedule rearranged so you can spar with me. You see, Bucky taught me a few moves and if a bone or two breaks, well…”

It wasn't an empty threat either. Bucky loved fighting for you, but you could hold your own. It turned him on.

Her eyes darted to the door when you stood up and stretched. “Listen, you don't need to-”

“But do you know what I'm going to do for now?” you asked, cutting her off the way she cut you off. “I'm going to take my husband to one of the interrogation rooms and suck the soul out of his body through his incredible cock,” you smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the sputtering sound she made. “And after he recovers, he’ll have the choice of bending me over the table and either eating or fucking my pussy. He’ll probably choose both. He’s pretty insatiable.”

She got to her feet, too, and you half expected to see smoke come out of her ears. “I don't need to hear–”

“What? Does hearing that Bucky is going to fuck me and not you make you uncomfortable?” you asked innocently before you got close to her. “Shove your tits in my husband's face again or touch him without his explicit consent, and I won't just make you uncomfortable. I’ll make your life a living hell.”

While you lost the staring contest to Bucky earlier, you very much won against this agent. She stood perfectly still and averted her gaze as you pushed your chair in. “Is that a threat?” she mumbled.

A cliche question, so why not give a cliche answer? “It’s a promise,” you smiled, heading to the door. “Oh, if he does decide to spar with you, I expect you to apologize and behave yourself. I’ll hear about it if you don't.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, waiting for you as you exited the room. He looked over the moon. “We’re going to one of the interrogation rooms, huh?”

You giggled, taking his hand as your cheeks warmed. “Of course, that's what you took from that.”

“How could I not?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Thanks, baby. I thought I dropped enough hints that she’d back off.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. He deserved to be comfortable at work. If some guy kept hitting on you, he would've stepped in, too.

“You think she’ll back off now?”

“I think so, but you tell me if she doesn't,” you said. You’d keep an eye on her, too, just in case. And if she pushed again, you’d put her back in her place. Maybe you’d make her listen while Bucky fucked you. With his permission, of course. “So, which room should we go to?”

He chuckled, the sound a happy one in the hall. “Room B. We can be as loud as we want,” he replied, tugging you closer. “I’ll show you just how special you are to me.”

Heat filled your body, anticipating how good it would feel to have him fuck your throat and more. “My body is ready, Sergeant,” you teased, shrieking when he picked you up and ignoring the whistles from other agents that walked by.

They were used to the shenanigans of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by now.

And you couldn't wait for more.

Just like we deserve a loving Bucky, he deserves love, too. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ldrfanatic]

and now i'm covered in you

theodore nott x fem!hufflepuff!reader

"You know, you can stay if you want to." + "I think I'm in trouble." + "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

synopsis - theo finds himself crushing on hogwarts' resident ball of sunshine hufflepuff but tries to force himself to stay away.

don't question the mechanics, go with it. do we want more down bad theo?

warnings - cursing, over-used amortentia love confession trope, theo is treacherously in love

slytherin boys works

"hnnnnggghhh."

mattheo looked up from doodling in the margins of the potions assignment he'd begrudgingly been blackmailed into working on by theo. said boy had his chin perked up onto his hand and was staring across the library at y/n, hogwarts' resident happy huffle.

in all honesty, theo didn't really give two shits if mattheo did his homework or not. he just needed someone to come with him to spy on you during your weekly wednesday study session. and while mattheo seemed like the last person who'd ever be in a library (all too true assumption), he was the only slytherin that theo had any blackmail material on.

so the pair of them sat at a table in the far corner, secluded in darkness that made it relatively difficult to pick them out from the leatherbound books of the ancient history section. theo had a clear view of you, but you'd have to strain your eyes to see him, which is what made this the perfect hiding spot.

theo let out another sigh, this one so dramatic that mattheo had begun to worry that his friend's testicles had simply fallen off.

"what the hell, man?"

"look at her."

mattheo's eyebrows immediately drew together in a look that was nothing short of incredulous.

"are you obsessing over that little puff in the corner?"

theo's hand shot up to grab the other boys' hand which was gestured lazily in the direction towards your figure. you were huddled up in a tutoring session with a pair of firsties in catty-corner to them. while theo was most certain you couldn't see him, he still didn't want to chance this buffoon giving him away.

the smile you gave them was so bright that theo found himself wishing that you were even slightly aware of his existence so that maybe, you might smile at him that way. his thoughts began to wander as he thought of all of the ways that he wanted you to smile at him. a large portion of them were decidedly not friend-like.

lost in his thoughts, theo hadn't caught your approach until you stood in front of them in your bright white sneakers. though they were a little beat up from your regular trips to the gardens, theo found them undeniably adorable. maybe because they had cute little yellow flowers embroidered on the sides of the heels. or maybe he just loved them because he loved you.

"hi matty!"

the moment the endearment was out of your mouth, theo's lovesick stare turned into a glare. he had no idea that you were even acquainted with mattheo, let alone that you had a nickname for him.

"hey there, y/n." mattheo, the cocky bastard, had a shit eating grin on his face that told theo that he knew exactly why your sudden arrival had irked him. "have you met theodore yet?"

your face twisted a little and a redness crept up your neck, settling on your cheeks. you muttered a quick no, clearly embarrassed about something.

"hi theodore. i'm y/n." you extended your hand towards him and theo was certain he'd explode if he didn't get the chance to touch your skin. so, with more eagerness than was probably necessary, theo took your small hand in his own.

now would've been the perfect time to do something flirty like compliment you or press a gentle kiss to your fingers. but when theo opened his mouth, something else entirely came out.

"don't call me that."

your face fell and you snatched your hand back to pull nervously along the ends of your hair. shit, shit, shit. that came out completely wrong.

don't call me that?? what kind of asshole said stuff like that to a girl he liked? honestly, you could call him whatever you want so long as you said it in that sweet voice of yours.

"oh. sorry."

"i just mean-- theo. i'm theo... to you..." theo's tongue felt too large for his mouth as he stumbled to get his thoughts to come out of his stupid mouth correctly. "you can call me theo. if you want."

mattheo was trying, and failing, to hide his snicker as he watched his best friend make a complete fool of himself. it wasn't very often that theodore the womanizer became so flustered for a piece of ass. of course, that was the catalyst here. you were clearly far more to theodore than just another piece of ass. that much was abundantly clear to mattheo based just off this interaction alone.

"well, good night, matty... and theo." you said his name hesitantly, almost as if you were worried the boy might spaz out again. with another breathtaking smile, you turned on your back heel and fluttered out of the library.

only after he watched the heavy oak doors close behind you did theo finally allow his head to thud against the desk.

mattheo had given up on hiding his laughter and was inches away from crying actual tears of amusement. he caught his breath momentarily, if only to mock theo's earlier fumble.

"don't call me that?" another fit of giggles stopped him mid-thought. "merlin, theodore, do you like this girl or not?"

theo waved his arms out in front of him in a gesture that was surely meant to be interpreted as "clearly i fucking do". mattheo was inclined to agree with the sentiment. he was most certainly down bad for this little hufflepuff.

"don't worry theo, daphne and i will help you out."

theo really should've known better than to accept help from his crazy best friend, and, if possible, his crazier girlfriend. but after what could only be described as a pathetic first meeting, he would try anything.

"fine."

"oh, c'mon y/n!"

you were uncharacteristically unamused by daphne's antics at the moment. you weren't really sure what she was playing at, but you did know for certain that her plan would land you an awful potions grade.

professor slughorn had been gracious enough to allow you to choose your own partners for today's assignment. the catch was that you weren't sure what you'd be brewing until after you were paired up. this shouldn't have been too much of a problem except, you were abysmal at potions.

daphne had insisted on being your partner, which you didn't understand the benefit of since your friend was equally as awful as you were. "daph, if we partner together, we'll fail."

daphne faced you with a pleading puppy-eyed look that you hadn't known any slytherin capable of producing.

"please. you're my only option to not get stuck with enzo."

as if on cue, the dark haired boy's robes caught on fire as he attempted to light the flame under his cauldron a few stations back. a rather girly yelp left him as he shoved his robe off and onto the floor before stomping on it a few good times to suffocate the fire.

you winced in sympathy towards daphne, still silently scanning the room to see who else might rescue you from a failing grade.

hermione would normally be your first choice, but draco had unfortunately decided not to skip today and snagged his girlfriend before anyone else could. you noticed theo sat next to a grinning mattheo two rows behind you.

you'd only just met the boy yesterday, but you could tell by the disbelieving frown on his face that he was unhappy with his partner. theo was amazing at potions and you were certain he normally paired with blaise, who was the most semi-competent slytherin of the lot when it came to potions. but for some reason, blaise was paired with pansy today. neither of them looked upset by the arrangement, so you tried to put it out of your head and focus on your own situation.

which brought you back to now. the amortentia that you were supposed to be brewing was notably lacking in both luster and pink-ness. it smelled like moldy old socks, which you knew by the mouthwatering aroma in the air that it was not supposed to smell like that.

after nearly 45 minutes of torture, slughorn finally called an end to the brewing and made his rounds about the room. surprisingly, only three potions were made correctly.

hermione's, which you knew would happen after you saw her smacking draco away from the ingredients and cauldron the whole time. pansy and blaise, who despite having succeeded, looked thoroughly worn out from the endeavor. and theo's. it was more shocking than anything that he'd managed to accomplish anything with mattheo as his partner.

"wonderful, class! now, i want everyone to gather around one of the three successful cauldrons around the room. go on." slughorn waited patiently until the class had split itself somewhat evenly into three groups all huddled around each workstation. theo was the closest to you, so you and daphne joined their group.

"now, with your classmates, take turns and tell each other what you smell."

unsurprised when daphne and mattheo smelled each other, you leaned forward hesitantly for your turn. you didn't really know what you'd smell. on your first whiff, two smells in particular hit you hard. "i smell books and wildflowers. and... something else. something... fainter."

slughorn leaned into your small group with a delighted smile. "amazing, miss y/l/n. it's common to smell faint hints of something in amortentia when either the brewer has not acknowlegded a love of something or when a love for that thins is still developing. go on. tell us what it is my dear girl."

"i think it's... fresh cut grass? i can't place where from, though."

"that's alright."

slughorn slinked away without any further explanation. two girls you didn't recognize went next, not at all caught off guard by their smells. then, it was theo's turn and you found yourself more interested in what he smelled than you cared to admit out loud.

"i smell my nonna's fettucine, the grass on the quidditch field, and... some kind of flower."

always quick on the upswing, your face reddened as you realized that the grass you caught wind of earlier was in fact, quidditch field grass. and based off the knowing smirk from mattheo paired with his not so subtle glances between you a theodore, you smelled each other.

the class dispersed shortly afterward, thankfully with no new revelations for your already flimsy love-life.

what you hadn't expected, was for theo to be waiting for you outside the classroom door.

"oh, hi theo. i thought you might've left already."

"i tried. but mattheo threatened to die my hair green, so."

you tried not to be disappointed that he hadn't wanted to stay and talk to you. a long huff from theo had you looking up from the stonework of the floor.

he said something to himself under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "merlin i'm awful at this". before you could ask him to clarify, he'd taken your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth for a soft kiss.

"let me start over. hi, i'm theodore and i've been unashamedly in love with you for the past forever. join me in hogsmeade this weekend?"

[moongreenlight]

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

[linddzz]

Non jayvik ask for once but I saw your tags about the Iliad and you're so right truly a sitcom. I started reading the emily wilson translation and I texted my friend within like two pages going "man this is a bunch of drag queens drunk at brunch trying to rip each other's wigs off they're being so petty and catty, meanwhile Achilles is calling his mom in the bathroom to complain that he hates everyone here and to please call Zeus to smite Agamemnon pls thank you mom" and personally I think it's hilarious Athena straight up grabs Achilles hair to hold him back and get him to chill and I legit cackled out loud no one's doing it like homer lol

Guys please read the Iliad it's so fucking funny. The gods are literally just having their equivalent of light hearted family sitcom squabbles and the body count is innumerable. They are having slap fights and civilizations crumble. Hera goes to seduce Zeus to distract him and he starts going "Dammmn Hera you look so good you're even hotter than- *proceeds to list ten other women he's banged*" Hermes watches Hera literally send Artemis crying to Zeus, makes eye contact with Artemis' mom, the Titan goddess Leto, and basically goes: "yeah I'm not gonna try it with you. You can just tell everyone you beat my ass. Zeus has a type of woman he likes, and it's a type I don't wanna get hit by." and he's so real for that Ares is literally just doing his job. Being a war god. On a battlefield. That everyone else is also fighting on. And every time another Olympian flies past him they're going "BOOO YOU SUCK ARES!!!" i felt so bad for him the entire time I was reading it!!! He's supposed to be there! it's a war!! Even Zeus is like "Ares you violent brutish war god get out of my sight before I kick your ass. War gods are the worst. Not you Athena. You're the bestest most wonderful daughter ever I could never stay mad at you." The only time Hades actually shows up instead of just being mentioned, it's when he's basically hitting his ceiling with a broom because his brothers are causing such a ruckus. The Iliad will have pages of heart wrenching tragedy as this war tears apart noble families and loved ones on all sides. It's senseless it's a waste and the story wants you to really feel the tragedy on all fronts. Then a few Olympians zoom by in the background flipping the bird at each other Also I haven't read Emily Wilson's Iliad but oohhmygod I gotta. Her Odyssey translation is the best. Everyone. if you love a bastard man going around being a delightful scamp please read the Odyssey. Everyone is all "Odysseus and Penelope are so in love" but they dont even mention that they're couple goals because they're both such sneaking underhanded bastards that when Odysseus returns he doesn't even reveal himself for a while because BOTH OF THEM are busy lying to each other and testing each other with little manipulative jabs and you really get the feeling that they're an OG version of "they need to be a couple for containment purposes"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

If Yves is willing to just be a friend (and a monster in law by extension) what opinion would he has on your others oc

Part 1/???

part 2

Tw: yves being really condescending and subtly bringing down monty, catty Yves

He thinks Montgomery incapable of taking care of you, Yves is coming over every other day to do the chores and meal prep. He would also prepare containers of healthy, nutritious food for Montgomery, but obviously, your husband is suspicious of it and refuses to eat. Monty wouldn't let you eat it either, fearing that Yves might have poisoned it. In actuality, he didn't. He's just acting nice to stress Montgomery and make him look like a crazy, jealous guy to you.

Yves would have some private talks with him, always about better ways to take care of you. Berating Montgomery for being neglectful for not being two minutes away from you at any given time, unobservant for not knowing how many times you blink in a minute when you're relaxed versus when you're tensed, inept for not doing the house chores good enough to meet Yves's insane standards.

Not to say all Yves does is bash Montgomery. He would praise him if he improved in some aspects (eg., noticing how many times you used the bathroom in a day, Yves would quiz him on that.), albeit condescending or backhanded. But Yves appreciates genuine effort being put into ensuring you're taken care of.

However, after that, he would go on to say that Montgomery could really use some moisturizer on his face and especially hands. Despite having nasty scars himself, Yves would insinuate Montgomery's facial scars are so hideous, that he should consider cosmetic surgery. He offered to pay for it because a friend of his darling, is a "friend" of Yves.

You better hope Montgomery wouldn't explode for his sake, Yves would try to paint him as an unreasonable and mentally unstable man that you shouldn't be associating with (if you're still not that deep in love with him), or should be drugged to be kept pliant (if your love for Montgomery is unwavering).

Yves is extremely shady, he watches your every move and now, Montgomery's every move. He does as much research on your husband as he does on you, just so he could effectively predict him all the time and take the spotlight.

Montgomery is going to buy you a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates on Valentine's day. So Yves decided that 14th of February is the perfect day to invite you and him over to his house, for Yves's birthday dinner. You will be gifted an exquisite gift hamper with all your favourite things and favourite brands, including roses and chocolates.

Montgomery wanted to surprise you with your favourite drink after work. He made the effort to queue up, pay for a ridiculously overpriced beverage and drive back home without spilling it in his cup holder, only to find out Yves has taken you out to that same shop to give you your fix.

Montgomery saved up enough to buy you that brand new phone. Only to come home empty handed because it was sold out everywhere. Yves conveniently managed to snag the last two units for you and Montgomery. The latter knew that rich bastard must have pre-ordered it.

Your husband made the right call opting to use his older phone instead, or else Yves would have gotten access to all his chat logs, call records and any other digital information on Montgomery. Well, it's not like Yves needed him to use the tampered phone anyways, he already has his means to find all of that out.

Montgomery made a reservation at a fancy restaurant for a date night? Aw, how sweet of him. Such a shame that the system mysteriously lost his records and it's now fully booked out. Your husband was about to get physical with the server for telling him that he didn't make that call, when in fact he did.

Surprise, surprise. Yves showed up to calm the situation down.

Yves coincidentally made a reservation for three so he could meet his associates due to work related reasons. Sadly, something came up for both of them, they couldn't make it. You and Montgomery wouldn't want that reservation to go to waste, would you? You've been dying to try the food at this place.

Montgomery would shoot him a nasty look while Yves would only smile at him ominously.

Your husband tried giving you allowance? It pales in comparison to Yves's monthly $10k deposits into your bank account. You're the breadwinner in this relationship and the cash isn't even from your job.

But he isn't a menace to Montgomery all the time. Yves does throw a bone for him occasionally.

Perhaps he's feeling extra insecure and down about himself for being this imperfect, ugly nobody compared to Yves. There is no use trying to hide his inferiority to Yves, he can smell the fragility in him.

So he would state nothing but facts. You chose Montgomery over Yves. That definitely says something about his immense worth to you despite not being notable compared to the dark haired male. If you really thought very little about Montgomery, you would already be calling Yves your husband instead.

Of course, this would give him an ego boost. Feeling proud that he still won, since you're his partner.

Yves wouldn't allow him to be too cocky, though. So he brought Montgomery back down to earth by telling him he should do something about his body odor.

Maybe he's getting bullied in his workplace, a country bumpkin with no friends nor family aside from you in the city would paint a massive target on his back.

Yves would pull some strings to stop the demeaning comments and pranks happening to Montgomery. Hell, he might even get a raise out of the blue. He would now work in peace and be a lot more chipper before heading to the construction site.

Sometimes, he would be too caught up with work to remember your anniversary. Montgomery would have nothing planned and he would panic, spiraling out of control. He fully planned to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but he would be met with your happy face instead. You would thank Montgomery for the lovely gift he allegedly prepared for you.

He would hold you in his arms, confused. When did he get you a luxury watch? He hasn't saved up enough yet to get anything close to this, but it is something Montgomery would have gotten you. Did the dust and toxic fumes from working on the field all day finally condemned his brain?

Only when he took a look at his text messages did he understand.

A text from Yves reads:

"Your smartphone has a feature that reminds you of important dates. Use it."

Montgomery would be grateful, even contemplating paying Yves back. But he decided to keep the money because his monster-in-law became ten times more insufferable than usual, rubbing it in Montgomery's face that he, a third person not (legally) included in the marriage, remembered the anniversary date.

Your husband could be having a stomach ache one day and thought nothing of it. Since it came as quickly as it left, it must be insignificant, so he didn't do anything nor did he tell you.

You could only imagine the surprise when Yves, two days later, marched up to him while he was on his break, and demanded that he head to the hospital. Of course, Montgomery would refuse and think Yves was up to something.

But Yves immediately shuts him up by showing him results of Montgomery's blood and stool sample. He had a viral infection that could have been devastating to his life if it wasn't treated promptly.

He was stunned, frozen on the spot, wracking his brain for how Yves could have possibly obtained these samples when Montgomery wasn't even remotely close to a medical center. The long haired male seized the chance to lead your husband into his car, zooming straight to the emergency department.

As expected, Montgomery would freak out in the car upon realizing what the report implies, he knows Yves is stalking you and him, but he didn't know it was to this extent. How, when, why and where did he snatch a vial of his blood and faeces? The results showed that the samples were taken on the same day he felt that strange pain in his abdomen.

Your "best friend" is fucking insane!

Before Montgomery could strangle Yves out of impulse, he stabbed a syringe filled with a strong sedative onto his neck, knocking him out immediately. It's amazing how he could do that while driving flawlessly.

Montgomery would wake up to see you by his side, holding his hand with a worried look. He smiles and beckons you closer for a kiss. He felt relief from having you here, in the cold and clinical setting of his hospital room.

But that bliss was instantly washed away when Yves walked into the room with a clipboard and his hair tied up with a stethoscope around his neck.

The heart monitor immediately began beeping frantically as Montgomery hyperventilates at the sight of that psychopath pretending to be his doctor.

But Yves is his doctor, you assured him that your good friend is the best one there is. He seems to always know what is happening and Yves has treated you back to health many times.

Montgomery tried to rip out the wires and the IV drip connecting to his cannula, but Yves just sternly called his name. He gave the man a look of warning, which intimidated Montgomery enough to settle down.

Yves explained everything to you, exaggerating his symptoms and telling a lie: Montgomery didn't want to worry you, so he sought medical help in secret. Yves happened to hear about this and decided to take over.

You didn't question the ethics or legality of his story. You would want your beloved husband to be taken care of by someone you wholeheartedly trust.

You hugged Yves out of gratitude. He smiled and savoured what little physical contact he gets with you.

Montgomery was silent the entire time as Yves's discrete, bruising, claw-like grip on his shin sent a loud message that he should play along if he wanted to live.

You then watched Yves listen for any other unusual activity in Montgomery's abdomen using a stethoscope. Your husband is clearly uncomfortable, due to the freezing metal touching his bare skin and his arch nemesis is invading his... everything at this point.

Finding the process boring, you told the men that you will be grabbing something from the vending machine for the three of you.

Yves told you Montgomery's current food restrictions before letting you go. He thanks you for thinking about him too.

Your husband didn't want to be alone with this... demon, he tried grabbing you by the arm. But Yves only dug his nails deeper into his flesh, making him wince in pain.

Once you leave the room, the area suddenly feels so cold. So eerie.

Yves dropped his warm smile and stared at Montgomery blankly.

"W-what the fuck are you?!" Montgomery felt genuine fear rattling his bones.

Yves sat on the freshly unoccupied chair. He crossed his legs and set the clipboard on his lap.

"You stole my beloved away from me." He narrowed his eyes at Montgomery. "But..."

The dark haired man sighed in defeat. "You make them happy."

Your husband cautiously watched him, noticing that Yves's lower eyelid twitched a few times.

"I appreciate the effort you put into loving them. It is a very respectable trait among... your other ones."

There was a beat of silence before Montgomery opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Yves again.

"I care about you, Yeller." Yves's emerald eyes stared straight into Montgomery's brown ones, but there wasn't a hint of fondness directed towards him.

"...and I have my ways of ensuring their safety and yours." He stood up, now towering over him and casting a menacing shadow over Montgomery's vulnerable self.

"Not everyone agrees with my methods. Certainly not you, certainly not (name)."

Montgomery watched him with eyes wide as saucers.

"I trust that you understand not to say a word to them about it." His words were laced with a potent poison, it sent the worst shivers down Montgomery's spine.

"You're fuckin' crazy!" Exclaimed your husband. Yves didn't appreciate the comment as he brought his manicured fingers to the IV tubing, making sure that his rival felt the threat.

"I know what hurts you, Yeller. Don't test my patience."

He could tell that Yves was using those words as a euphemism for death.

Montgomery sealed his lips and Yves's hand returned to his side.

The two men watched each other like hawks, neither of them moving a muscle. One is definitely much more anxious than the other.

In the end, Yves took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You stupid boy. If it wasn't for your excessive drinking..." Yves trailed off, seemingly complaining to no one in particular. Montgomery doesn't know if he is having a headache over his infection or the fact that he's married to you.

"They could have chosen a better man, at least someone who takes care of himself, is in a prestigious line of work and has some common sense. But... they chose you." He crossed his arms and glared at Montgomery.

"Congratulations." Yves continued bitterly. "They chose you, and you are nothing like me." He spat harshly, turning his back to Montgomery, and sighing frustratedly before burying his face in a hand.

"You are nothing like me..." He repeated softly, his voice was wavering and cracked. A strong sense of melancholy could be felt in the air.

Montgomery turned his attention to the door, wondering what is taking you so long. He fears that Yves would eventually kill him and make it seem like he died due to natural causes.

Yves wiped a stray tear away before turning around to face Montgomery again.

"You are such a disgrace." He whispered. "Yet, they still chose you."

Montgomery opened his mouth to say something, but was again, interrupted by your arrival.

Like a switch being flipped, Yves donned a charming, motherly smile as you offered him a salad bowl you got from the vending machine. He now exudes a caring and inviting vibe that was a complete 180⁰ from what your husband witnessed.

"Why, thank you, my dear." Yves would give you a totally platonic peck on the head.

You froze and looked at Montgomery. He would usually lose his temper over touches like these, you wouldn't want him to start a fight with his doctor.

But instead,

"Thanks, sweetheart." He took the fresh apple meant for him, out of your hands. Montgomery kissed you on the cheek before smoothing your hair with a large hand. He appeared not to care about what Yves did, which made you release a breath of relief. Perhaps they talked their feelings out and built some trust between each other?

Yves excused himself, saying he has somewhere to be. He opened his arms, wanting a hug from you. You gladly comply seeing Montgomery nodded in agreement.

He held you tight for a few seconds before reluctantly letting you go. Yves bid you and Montgomery goodbye before leaving the room.

You didn't catch the scowl directed towards the short haired man.

You climbed onto his hospital bed and snuggled under your husband's arm, resting your head on his chest.

Montgomery pressed a couple of kisses onto the crown of it while absentmindedly rubbing your back up and down.

There are a lot of things for him to process today. He's just glad that you're here to ease the pain

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight (Vengeance of Venom) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of child death, trauma related to that, some coping, Marc being an emotionally constipated idiot as usual; Also you can't convince me that after the symbiote invasion, Marc and May Parker didn't become like, catty bff's

A/N: After a million years, I have returned to this particular incarnation of Moon Knight! I've been trying to consume various forms of media to help get me in the zone for him, and yes that includes watching the only two episodes in that Spider-Man cartoon he's actually in on repeat...

Taglist: @badbishsblog @patchesofwork

Divider done by the ever so lovely @/saradika-graphics!

PT. 6

It had been a few days since you and Marc had discussed his past.

And you were... angry for him. What had happened to your family was bad, but it wasn't as bad as Marc coming home to his dead child.

Marc had his whole family ripped away from him because his little brother literally went insane with jealousy? Honestly, if the bastard wanted superpowers so fucking badly, he could gone to play in a pool at a nuclear power plant!

Marc's lot in life truly wasn't fair. You understood his prickly, walled-off personality a bit more, but moreover you just felt... saddened. You almost didn't push through the loss of your family. Being a combative young girl, violent and opposing to your guardians as you frog-hopped your way through foster homes; many parents simply didn't bother with you after the first month of constant disobedience and violent outbursts.

And couple all of that with the running away... it had gotten to the point nobody had wanted you, so you were forced to live in a roughened group home for the duration of your dwindling childhood.

But none of that felt as horrible and gut-wrenching compared to coming home to your own child brutally murdered out of petty jealousy and perceived rivalry.

Your heart broke for him; he had suffered horrible situations all because of someone he should have been able to love and trust with his life. Someone--

"You're spacing again."

You jumped, almost dropping your gauntlet as Marc's voice cuts through your thoughts.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Yeah, just... Got a bit on my plate, so to speak."

His chair squeaks as he turns back to sharpening his darts; after pointing out he needed new ones, Marc actually took your advice and put in a request with Fury for the materials to manufacture new ones. And provide a few modifications to your own equipment as well. It was the least he could do for being such an ass to you before.

The grindstone whirred, soft sparks falling onto the worktable as he meticulously honed the edges of the blades down to their fine edges; his warm chocolate eyes focusing with intensity on his task.

You tucked one leg beneath yourself from where you hunched over on the couch, staring at him for a moment before returning to your own work, hoping to distract you from your morbid and depressing train of thought.

"Have anything to do with Strange?" He asked, the question short and clipped.

"Eh?" You blinked, almost dropping your tool at the suddenness of his question. It was... weirdly out of nowhere. You hadn't really interacted with Stephen much since your hospitalization, and maybe once or twice when dealing with things at Avengers Tower.

"No?"

"He's been hovering." He muttered, frowning as he began working on a new dart, setting the completed one off to the side with the others.

"You mean like... at meetings?" You blinked dumbly, your jaw slacking slightly.

"Yes."

"Well, I mean... kinda?" You rubbed the back of your neck.

"Any particular reason?" He hummed, his mouth twisting as he scowled through the magnifier.

You furrowed your brow and squinted at him, blinking a few times. He seemed... Stiff. Prickly, almost. He almost looked like he...

You grinned widely, a lightbulb blipping to life inside of your head.

"Oh my god."

You lean forward, grasping your gauntlet in one hand and still grinning, staring at his posture. Marc seemed to go even stiffer than before, his movements not as precise as before, almost as if he was trying to distract himself from the current subject.

"Marc, are you jealous?"

The silence was your best answer, and you laughed, leaning back on the couch, and kicking your feet as your giddiness overtook you. "Marc!"

Marc spun around and slammed his fist on the table, barking, "I was only wondering if there are any distractions that might screw you up on patrol!"

You finally dropped your gauntlet, clutching your belly as it ached from laughing, his absurd reaction to your observation just ratting him out more, "Oh my god!" You gasped, rolling onto your side.

"Shut the hell up!" He snapped.

"Marc!" You sputtered, snorting at him.

"Ugh!" He grunted, jerking his chair back around to look at the task he'd dropped on the worktable.

"Stephen has been like, nosey because I was thinking about asking Fury to transfer me as his partner."

His shoulders twitched, "What?"

You sit up again a bit, resting your weight on your elbow as you let your leg sling over the side of the couch; "When we split our little dynamic duo; before I got hurt, I requested I work with Stephen because... Well? We have decent chemistry and ideally that's what you want in a partnership."

Marc scowled, keeping his back to you as you spoke; why was he so defensive over this? Why did that hot, simmering feeling return to the pit of his gut? He thought he buried it the day he saw you in the medical ward back in the Tower when you agreed to be his partner again.

"And as for the weird ass flowers? Gamora and Groot gave those to me. She popped in to say hi, and Groot happened to sprout some while we were talking. They gave them to me as a get-well present."

He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, over his shoulder, "You certainly enjoyed his attention, though."

You coughed awkwardly into your hand, and cleared your throat; "Well, a woman appreciates chivalry every now and again, Marc. And Stephen can be really chivalrous when he wants to be."

You crossed your arms, and huffed out a puff of air. "And your manners certainly match the sewers you were living in... But it's no reason to get friggin' jealous or anything."

"I'm not jealous for the last damn time!" He snapped again, glaring at you.

"Oh... so you're protective, then? Are you that worried about me?"

He growled, grinding his teeth together as he pushed himself up from the table, the wheels on his chair squeaking audibly as he muttered under his breath.

"Hey! Where are you going?" You asked, climbing to your feet as he yanked on his hoodie.

"Out for a drink. I need one after dealing with you." He scoffed, walking up the basement stairs.

"But it's 11 in the morning!" You retort.

Even though he seemed pissed, you couldn't help but smile to yourself, your fingers touching your chin as you heard the front door slam.

"She's insufferable!" Marc growled, scowling deeply out of the window, his brown eyes watching as children played outside and cars drove by. The muffled barking of a dog could be heard from somewhere through the window.

"I swear, dealing with her has me wanting to shave my head and jump in the Hudson in the middle of winter!"

May smiled into her tea, her green eyes twinkling with mischief as the wrinkles at the corners became more obvious the more Marc ranted about you.

"Your tea is getting cold." She reminded him with a hum.

The former Marine slumped his shoulders with a hefty sigh and dropped onto the cushioned chair on the other side of the tea table next to her, taking the chipped mug in his hands before taking a big swig of it; swirling the slightly bitter liquid around in his mouth before swallowing.

"You've been talking about your partner for a while, Marc. And while you seem agitated about her," May set her mug down on a saucer to look at him with a patient smile.

"Has she really done anything to make you this angry? Or is there some other underlying issue?"

His brows furrowed and he rubbed his hand along his stubble, looking at her quizzically, "I don't follow."

"Marc, you're not used to having to rely on someone in such a hefty capacity like this," May said gently.

"You've been working alone for so long you've boxed yourself into a little corner and get mad when people don't act the way you want them to, or if they don't see things the way you do, at first. It's why you acted the way that you did when all those symbiotes invaded."

"Okay, I have my reasons for..." Marc noticed her silvery brow quirk up, her lips tipping into a smirk. He brought his tea to his lips and drank again. "...continue."

"You were concerned with your own survival. You had been alone for so long you felt like, even with your hero work as Moon Knight, you were still in it by yourself."

"...Someone helped convince me." He sighed softly, looking into the tea a bit, swirling it in the mug.

"Oh yeah, someone did all right." May said haughtily, "And I bet she was so smart and amazing at it, too."

"And a little full of herself. And preachy..." Marc slowly smiled at her.

"Okay, well, aside from that--" May giggled. "It's nice to know that I had a hand in you opening up more. Spider-Man being that other hand."

Marc pursed his lips. May Parker may know that Marc Spector is actually Moon Knight... But she did not know her beloved nephew was the Spider-Man. He didn't like lying to her, it left a foul taste in his mouth. She was one of the few--the very few--friends he had left in the world and it felt wrong to mislead her.

But he swore to Peter he wouldn't tell May until the youth decided he was ready.

"So, I think your apparent "frustration" with her might just be the fact that you're not used to having someone inhabit your personal bubble so easily. Your personalities are very different, but... You like her. It angers you because you try not to like her--or people in general--but it just happened."

"That's not..." Marc started to say; but, instead he rubbed the back of his neck. "...Entirely untrue."

"And you seem to be unreasonably annoyed that this girl had been looking for a new partner... And seemed to enjoy whatever flattery he was putting on for her."

He raised an eyebrow, "And?"

"Marc, did you stop to analyze your feelings on a slightly more... intimate manner?" May sighed hopelessly, shaking her head before taking another sip of her tea.

"Uh--hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean!" He sputtered, turning in the chair to look at her fully, feeling an uncomfortable sweat in his palms.

"Do you think you might be so protective of her because you're interested in her on a more personal level? You know, romantically. Or... otherwise."

Ugh, he hated how sagely this woman could be sometimes. She was wonderful at giving advice, but torture when she got to the core of the issues discussed.

And he knew, deep down, that she wasn't far off from the truth.

"May--"

"Marc." She put her hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze, "Would it be so bad to let somebody in like that? To let her get close to you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and determinedly sucked the rest of his tea down before speaking;

"Yes. May, I'm taking a big risk just even being friends with you. Being around your nephew."

"Is it... because of your hero work?" May asked, her eyes shining with concern.

"Yes and no... it's..." His eyes cast down to the floor, the bitter memories of what happened to his wife and daughter, his friends, associates... all at the hands of his brother.

"There's someone. A criminal who--who has it out for me. He's been targeting people close to me for years, May. I... don't want him to hurt anybody else."

She squeezed his arm again, smiling kindly, "Tell me. Please. You know you can."

"It's... not pretty, May. It's horrific, what he's done. She found out about it and I'm pretty sure she's started letting it fester in her brain." He sighed, slumping his shoulders a bit.

"I've seen a lot, Marc." May says softly. "After losing Ben, how he was taken from us... it wasn't easy. You know how I felt, I've already told you. So... Please."

Marc lifted his eyes and took a deep breath.

And began to speak.

PT. 7: No idea, with fall around the corner I may come back to this just for the spooky vibes and to hopefully be able to wrap this up!

[unusualindigo]

My Escher Backstory

At 63 years old, Escher is the youngest, and perhaps most free-spirited, of Strahd’s consorts.

Growing up as the son of one of Barovia’s former Burgomasters, Escher was once fast friends with the son of the village priestess, Alexi Donavich.

As the pair grew, they both discovered a talent for the esoteric. Whilst Alexi found himself following his mother down a holy path, Escher discovered his own affinity for the spirits of the departed. Through listening to them, he could channel their stories into hymns, then poems, then songs.

Using his talents, Escher found himself a controversial figure in the village, to his father’s dismay. Alexi and he, though lovers in secret, soon had a falling out as Alexi, grieving the loss of his mother and angry at Escher’s continued use of spiritual energy in his music, led a group to cast him out of the village.

Escher felt his heart die there, watching as the boy he loved spat venom at him from on high, saying that he should be lucky that they only broke his harp, and not his body.

Seeing no future for himself, Escher began to trek to the last place any sane Barovian would tread; Castle Ravenloft itself.

Arriving uninvited, Escher was let in only on the sadistic graces of Anastrasya and Volenta, each looking forward to seeing him crumble before their Lord, Strahd. 

Escher asked only for a harp to play for the Lord of Ravenloft, and left quite an impression as he channeled the raw loathing and hopelessness of the Lord’s treacherous soldiers from that night so long ago.

Six years would pass, and Escher would find himself growing closer to the ladies of Ravenloft. In Ludmilla he found someone to debate the nature of his magics with, and in Volenta an equally mischievous force to contend with. Anastrasya, for her part, was always his harshest critic, though the banter soon became rather catty and playful between them.

In the Lord of Ravenloft himself, Escher found a vigorous philosophical opponent, and the two would spend long hours debating the nature of the spirit and of conflict. Escher always reveled in what glimpses of the man Strahd used to be would filter through.

Once his twentieth birthday began to approach, Escher began to envy the close, if unconventional ties between the vampires of the castle. He began to make overtures in his performances to Strahd, begging a chance to become one of his consorts.

Escher could tell that Strahd had some growing interest in him, but the man was stubborn to a fault, and thought it unseemly to turn him at so young an age, especially given the base of their relationship.

Escher, frustrated, began to scour the castle for ways to make Strahd see things his way. His searches were short lived, as the chamberlain, Rahadin, had never taken a liking to him, and took the opportunity to suggest of removing him from the castle entirely.

Escher’s blood froze as Strahd contemplate that notion. However, Strahd offered him one last chance. He had exiled the werewolves from Ravenloft after one of their prior leaders, Gorick, had slaughtered a reincarnation of his beloved Tatyana.

If Escher could convince their current leader, Amalric, to agree to a meeting with Strahd, and convince Strahd himself of the werewolves worth as agents again.

Before he left, Volenta told him of Amalric’s weakness to the pleasures of the flesh, and with no other options of ease in this trial, Escher acquiesced to the beast’s hunger. He spent many vigorous nights sating the bastard, whispering in his ear of the glories awaiting him in Strahd’s service.

It didn’t even take but two seasons to bend the fool to his whims, and Escher soon found himself contending with Strahd’s iron will, not truly for the wolves, but for his own worth.

To his delight, not only did Strahd agree to let the wolves back in, and to sire Escher at last, but to Escher’s poisoning of Amalric in one year’s time.

Soon, Escher found himself awakening to periwinkle eyes as Strahd cleansed him of the filth of that loathsome man.

Anastrasya also rewarded him quite harshly for his efforts, and the two soon settled into a comfortable distance, trading barbs and competitively seeing who could bend such and such lord over a barrel first, sometimes quite literally.

Volenta made him her greatest asset, a spy who can move wherever he likes in the castle and beyond, and allowing him to hold sway over the wolves, making them his spies in turn. Thus, did he oust Rahadin from his spying duties, though the crotchety old elf is content with that outcome.

Ludmilla and he, sharing a bloodline, collaborate on occasion to perform certain rituals, and still enjoy debating their philosophies and such to this day. Escher even felt comfortable enough to participate in her experiments, so strong is his trust in her.

For forty years Escher served Ravenloft and Strahd in this manner, keeping the wolves in line and gathering information and favor from the broader populace. It was on one such venture that word reached Escher of an assault on the keep.

Rushing back, Escher found only the bodies awaiting him. Strahd dismissed him with nary a glance, throwing himself into an effort to expand the mists around Barovia. Deeply hurt at being cast aside once more, Rahadin took delight in reminding Escher of the reincarnations of Tatyana and their hold on Strahd. One such man had been born outside the mists, and had brought a vampire from there upon their door, who Strahd had slain.

Brooding over his loss of affection, Escher began to recede from public life earlier than expected, watching sullenly as Strahd grew ever more distant from them.

A few years into his seclusion, Escher found a young boy whilst he watched Barovia from a nearby hill. He had auburn hair.

Escher wearily told Volenta of his findings, having also seen the boy’s playmate, the spitting image of a young Alexi. Heart still broken over his first love, Escher took to spying on Doru and his father, enviously watching as they paid tribute to the boy’s departed mother.

When Doru was brought into the Mad Mage’s rebellion, it was only by Escher’s grace that he was merely turned into a vampire spawn, rather than slaughtered like the other fools. However, Strahd’s turning of the boy was interrupted by the Mage, turning the boy into one of the Deamhan line, the most savage and miserable of the lot.

Though he’s sure he should feel guilty, Escher was delighted as he watched Alexi turn to murder and deceit to keep his death seeking boy alive. A cold vengeance, for his broken heart.

[riddlegecko]

here's some lysander hcs bc i'm very autistic over this bastard

their favorite animal is rabbits. they've never owned a real one, but they had multiple stuffed rabbit plushies as a kid. the idea of pulling rabbits out of your hat was what got them into stage magic in the first place (no one else in their family practiced it, they were the first stavros to take it up), and little 8 year old lysander was very disappointed to discover that you can't materialize rabbits out of nothing with just a top hat. they kept learning stage magic anyways.

they've been in a multitude of stage shows at the rec center, often appearing alongside zoey. they consider their magnum opus to be playing angel in a production of rent. however, talented as they are onstage, they never quite reached zoey's local darling status among the hatchetfield players bc they're significantly harder to work with, and thus don't get cast as much. zoey is catty and full of herself, but she at least listens to the director. lysander will bicker with the director, and occasionally tries to direct their castmates which is a big fat no-no. they're still pals with zoey tho, they talk shit about their castmates and complain about hatchetfield together all the damn time. most insufferable friendship in all of hatchetfield <3

speaking of people who can actually put up with lysander, one of their neighbors in the apartment complex they live in is a single mother with two 7 year old twin daughters, and lysander adores them. they're a completely different person around them. lysander already loves kids and is surprisingly good with them (kids generally find their art and performances really cool, and that warms their shriveled little heart), and those two little girls who love their puppets and viola playing are no exception. the girls call them "sandy" bc they were only 3 when lysander moved in next to them and "lysander" was too much of a mouthful for them to pronounce back then. anyone else who calls them sandy gets a major verbal tongue-lashing. as i've said, lysander's attitude towards children is their one redeeming personality trait, and the mother and her girls have no idea how much of an insufferable jerk lysander is otherwise.

before lysander started working at watcher world, they worked as a street performer at just about every honey festival since they turned 13. oftentimes juggling, doing face paintings, or putting on little puppet shows for crowds. the one exception was in 2015, the year where they got to host the honey queen pageant. they only ever did it that one time bc it was volunteer work, and thus they went unpaid (they at least made money performing in the street fair outside). it was merely a resume builder, even if lysander was regarded as one of the best hosts the pageant ever had. pompous as they are, their onstage charisma is undeniable.

[watatsumiis]

I'm in my hurt/comfort era, so can I request Arlecchino comforting her lover after some Snezhnayan dignitaries made them feel insecure?

You certainly can! This was so fun to write and you've really just solidified my Arlecchino brainrot, so, thanks!

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), pre-established romantic relationship, some mentions of the reader being talked down to/mocked and feeling like garbage because of it. Romantic affection and pet names from Arlecchino (sweetheart, love, pet) - you call her 'Arlie'. Arlecchino threatens violence against the dignitaries <3

Word count: ~950

You slam open the door to Arlecchino's study with a huff. She's not in here, of course. She never is at this time of day - perhaps that's for the better, you don't particularly want her seeing you in such a sorry state.

It was foolish to think you'd been gaining actual respect around here - everyone seemed to just see you as an extension of the tenth harbinger - the moment you're without her, you're essentially snubbed by the dignitaries that roam the palace.

Today seemed to be the exception, however. You tried to speak your mind during a strategy meeting, only for two particularly catty higher-ups to turn their noses up and all but mock you in front of everyone. It was completely and utterly humiliating.

You know that if Arlecchino had been there, she would've given them a dressing-down that they wouldn't soon forget, but she hadn't - you can't seem to stop thinking about the way your voice died in your throat as you opened your mouth up to defend yourself. You can't help but feel ashamed at how you couldn't even manage to stick up for yourself.

You cross your arms over your chest and kick the door closed behind you, walking over to Arlecchino's desk - she seems to be in the middle of some assignment - or maybe three, judging by the way the papers are sorted into what could possibly be different piles.

Plonking down in her high-backed chair, you start to feel a little better. Sitting at her desk always makes you feel big and powerful - you suspect it was designed that way on purpose.

You sniff and lean back with a long, low sigh, just as the door opens.

You're a little relieved to realise that it's Arlecchino and not one of her subordinates - you don't think you have it in you to put on the whole formal charade after the humiliation you just received in that meeting.

She's wrapped up in a long black cloak, and holding a steaming mug in one hand. "Good afternoon, pet." Her lips curl into the shadow of a smile as she spots you. "Making yourself at home, I see?" Her shoes clack on the tile as she approaches you.

You give her an affirmative hum and a dip of your chin, hoping to conceal how upset you are. She has enough on her plate.

Unfortunately, your thin masquerade doesn't seem to cut it. You see her brow furrow ever so slightly as she sets her mug down on the desk and twitches her fingers in a silent gesture for you to stand up.

"What's wrong?" Arlecchino asks you as she sits down.

"Nothing." You murmur, about to step away before you feel her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into her lap.

"I'm not stupid, sweetheart." Her tone borders on amusement at the fact you are trying to deceive her. She's always been able to read you like a book.

You feel her warm breath puff against your neck as she noses into you, practically purring in your ear as she coils her arms tighter around you.

It's hard not to give in when she has you like this, trapped in her embrace as she preens and fusses over you. You let out a defeated sigh.

Arlecchino remains respectfully quiet as you recite what happened in the meeting, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I... It wasn't that bad, really. I'm just overreacting." You finish, scrunching your face up.

You hear her scoff and worry that it's directed at you, but your fears are quickly dissuaded as she pulls you flush against her chest. "Those bastards." She growls out. "I'll flay them alive. Just say the word."

Her unquestioning loyalty and protectiveness towards you makes warmth bloom in your chest, and you can't help but smile a little, as much as you try to quash it down. "Arlie, no." You reach up to push a snowy white lock of hair off of her face. She seems to be pouting a little - it's accentuated by the pinkish-red lipstick she's chosen to wear today. "I... I need to be able to fight my own battles." You insist, though the mere idea of facing up to those stuck up snobs makes you feel small and insignificant all over again.

Arlecchino lets out a hmph, shortly followed by her pressing her face into the side of your head. "Still." She grumbles. "Let me show you how it's done, at least." You can still feel her gloved hands on you, pulling you closer as if you aren't already smushed up against one another. You shake your head silently - her protectiveness over you has always been one of the things that endeared you.

"You're better than them." She assures you - you can't help but smile - this is high praise, coming from her. You've seen firsthand how much time it's taken her to be so open with her compliments. "Those fools are less than the dirt beneath my heel." You hear her stomp one foot on the ground to exaggerate her point, and feel her lips brush against your neck lightly. "Just say the word, my love, I'll show them just how big of a mistake it was for them to even dare to gaze upon you." Her voice has dipped into a lower octave, more of a growl than anything.

You grin as you tilt your head towards hers. She's always had a way of making you feel so completely and utterly loved and cherished, and you're quickly finding that the memory of the disapproving glares of the dignitaries are fading out, replaced by your lover's adoring gaze.

You shift your angle in her lap and catch her lips on your own - her surprised hum is quickly drowned out as she wholeheartedly leans into it.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

[utilitycaster]

Welcome to what may or may not become an ongoing thing as I finish Streams of Silver, the penultimate book of the first two trilogies of the Legend of Drizzt, ie, the ones I bought as ebooks. Let us assess along the following scales.

Lord of the Rings Parallels: Dwarf sets off on a journey to reclaim his lost mountain homeland. They leave home, but are chased by someone specifically in pursuit of their halfling companion, due to an object said halfling possesses. They need to flee the first real city they stop in after, among other things, causing a scene in a tavern. Wizards are spying on them from afar. They stop in a relatively kindly learned place. At one point, a beautiful woman gives Drizzt healing herbs and generic brand lembas bread. When they find their mountain stronghold, it has a hidden door that requires some degree of knowledge of the dwarven culture to open. Said stronghold is full of mithril, and was overtaken by hostile foes because the dwarves delved too deep. Someone appears to fall in battle in the stronghold, but does not.

Regis was alive but taken by the enemy.

(the Evermoors bit is far more like The Hobbit Mirkwood crossing in vibes though, as is the outwitting of trolls)

Conclusion: LOTR as FUCK. [do not respond to this with more LOTR parallels. this post is about me having fun, not about how good a nerd you are.]

Reminders that this is D&D: speaking of trolls, the regeneration and fire are a plot point, which is well done. I don't know AD&D nor do I feel the need to so there's probably other stuff. Also, they sure do be going into dungeons and finding dragons in the Icewind Dale trilogy.

Women?: Catti-brie is capable in battle, gets some armor and weaponry, and more importantly gains some degree of personality and is even a viewpoint character for the villains scenes, which is great! I still find Wulfgar so boring (he is not a woman but he allegedly has feelings for Catti-brie, which we are repeatedly told about but there is no reason other than "she is the only human woman his age around"). Sydney was pretty great though. She sucked, but at least she like, did things. Also I enjoyed Dove Falconhand's brief appearance in the Dark Elf trilogy and would like to see her more so Lady "legally distinct from Galadriel" Alustriel mentioning her was nice. Also Guenhwyvar is a female extraplanar panther. Is Guenhwyvar a girlboss? discuss.

Villainy: Apparently we haven't seen the last of Artemis Enteri but personally I loved the evil wizard subplot. Hopefully we get more of that because Mr. Enteri is fine enough but there's only so many times you can mention his jeweled daggers and excellent sword hand and stealth but wizards can fuck you up in thousands of exciting and fun ways.

The naming of parts: Looks like Mr. Eoin Colfer was not the first person to name a somewhat amoral bastard man "Artemis".

We still do not have any excuse for someone being named "Catti-brie" though and it is kind of funny when other women are named shit like Catti-brie and Alustriel and Dove Falconhand and then there's just good old Sydney.

Lavender orbs: yeah they're mentioned multiple times. Not as lavender orbs, but "lavender" is said a lot in reference to Drizzt's eyes. I did not count how many times but I may do so for The Halfling's Gem.

Other things:

You can tell the Dark Elf trilogy was written later because it is notably better. Like, this is still readable but it's way rougher.

Ideal scenario is they trade Wulfgar for Regis and Guenhwyvar but they probably won't.

Speaking of LOTR, "Twinkle" is the stupidest weapon name of all time. Mr. Do'Urden please explain what the fuck you are thinking. I know you also at some point get a different scimitar named Icingdeath and all I can think of is that 30 Rock scene where the Donaghy siblings are naming their fists for punching reasons and one of them says "Say hello to Bono and Sandra Day O'Connor."

[hbdttg]

somebody kill me, ed made isabella a heart-shaped omelet for breakfast. get this sappy romantic bastard the fuck out of there and straight into oswald’s arms for the love of god

i’m obsessed with how catty hallucination!kristen is

oswald is such a manipulative little goblin, i’m absolutely screaming. the couch scene where he nudges ed in the direction of a breakup is so foul, but when ed asks him to break up with her for him and to be gentle, the glassy-eyed smile oswald gives him in return is THE MOST PRECIOUS THING ON EARTH. ughhhhHHH. give him the world, i don’t care

“i don’t deserve him” “glad we agree. bye~” king shit oswald forever

isabella just needed 5 minutes in a room with oswald to see that he was head over heels in love with ed. she’s met this man just once before and has had barely one and a half conversations with him, and she was able to see the love in his eyes clear as motherfucking day. i will never get over what a giant, blind idiot edward nygma is. WHAT HAS TWO EYES BUT CAN’T SEE?? i hate this, throw the whole man away

fuck isabella fuck isabella fuck isabella. ugh the kristen dress-up scene is the single worst moment of my existence

wait i just noticed that oswald had gabe cut isabella’s brake line before he even learned about her and ed reconciling. he was NOT taking any chances lmao

[emeren]

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk) 

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise. 

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her. 

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features. 

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.” 

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side. 

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.” 

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him. 

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least. 

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?” 

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.” 

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled. 

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.” 

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.” 

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor. 

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school. 

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race. 

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?” 

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off. 

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name. 

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start. 

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.” 

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes. 

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!” 

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly. 

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...” 

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median. 

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him. 

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!” 

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!” 

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare. 

eren lost? 

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right. 

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.” 

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it. 

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls. 

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends. 

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway. 

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean. 

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head. 

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best. 

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

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch. 

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.” 

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.” 

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.” 

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her. 

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?” 

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain. 

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in. 

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal. 

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes. 

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment. 

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.” 

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.” 

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.” 

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes. 

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet. 

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap. 

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people. 

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you. 

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed. 

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest. 

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing. 

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.” 

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd. 

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you. 

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you. 

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.” 

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.” 

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.” 

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”  

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.” 

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought. 

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.” 

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.” 

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours. 

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.” 

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?” 

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth. 

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach. 

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away. 

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was. 

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.” 

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit. 

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it. 

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders. 

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot? 

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away. 

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin. 

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.” 

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?” 

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.  

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.” 

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement. 

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.” 

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic. 

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back. 

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.” 

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you. 

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts. 

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. “be good and take them off for me.” 

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off. 

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts. 

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do. 

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin. 

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat. 

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit. 

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side. 

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.” 

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly. 

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure. 

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt. 

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain. 

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady. 

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good. 

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair. 

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself. 

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold. 

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.” 

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours. 

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant. 

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.” 

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off. 

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water. 

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?” 

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra. 

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze. 

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips. 

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt. 

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape. 

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?” 

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.” 

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep. 

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back. 

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center. 

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself. 

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline. 

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.” 

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless. 

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid. 

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.” 

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking. 

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.” 

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.” 

“yes what?” 

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.” 

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation. 

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body. 

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt. 

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence. 

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.” 

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you. 

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep. 

“night, casanova.” 

<3 <3 <3 

[catty-words]

every time lexa says clarke’s name: 34/?

[theboarsbride]

Might I trouble you for some headcanons about Grima and Tathareth's relationships? Any headcanons you want, I just wanna hear all about them, please! Thank you!

OUGGGGH OH MY GOSH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!!!!!!!!💜🐍

I am always prepped and ready to scream about these two, they've been giving me brainrot so much lately fkldkldkfldkldfk 🥺🥺💛💛

They view each other as kindred spirits, and a lot of this starts with their personal experiences as an 'ostracized' other within their respective societies because of their mixed heritages (with Grima being Rohirrim/Dunlending and Tathareth being Lothlorien/Woodland elf). Tathareth knows her own experiences cannot really compare to Grima's so she often refrains talking about them (unlike Grima klkdlfkf who is a bish that holds grudges RIP), as most of the social exclusion and rejection she faced was more downlow and catty, and eventually grew to become her own doing as she developed an isolationist, socially anxious personality in adulthood.

So there is a mutual 'attraction' to their lack of judgement towards ethnic backgrounds, mutual sympathies for one another's experiences, and Grima just values how Tathareth is kind to him despite all he's done and doesn't seek to treat him any differently from any other person she's healed (even if he doesn't trust it at first). Tathareth mostly finds herself attracted out of curiosity because jfldklklsd she's got a lot of questions about the world beyond Lothlorien and for a man who worked so closely with dark sorcery because deep down, despite the cold and apathetic front she puts up, she is just a curious and lonely girl she was in her youth. also just the appeal of loving/healing a Bad Boy....even if he is all scrungly and unappealing kdslkdslsks

Tathareth is very much against PDA, mostly because she wishes to preserve the dignity and reputation she has as a healer (as elves begin to whisper and gossip about how her spending more time with Grima led to her mind being infected and him poisoning her medicines). Grima, however, WANTS to publicly display his love, he wants it to be known he loves an elf, and more importantly he wants it to be known that HE is loved by an ELF. He's a bit of a selfish (and highkey possessive that aspect of the former """affections""" he felt towards Eowyn hasn't left him completely) bastard, but he refrains from being public with his affections as being around elves that he knows are taller, faster, and stronger than himself (and also don't hold very positive views about him) makes him ✨nervous✨.

Speaking of potentially poisoning medicines......they both like gardening! Just... spending time in gardens together, or watching one another garden, etc. Tathareth works primarily with herbs and spices and other medicinal plants, while Grima takes a liking to poisonous plants--wolfsbane, belladonna, oleander, hemlock, snakeroot, delphinium, etc. Tathareth cultivates life; Grima cultivates death. ljgljfljfljggflfk ok lowkey Hades and Persephone parallels ig????

For better or worse, Grima heavily associates Tathareth with Jimson Weed (though the analogy initially started with how she dresses in pastel purples and greys).

LOTS OF NIGHTTIME WALKS!!!!! Tathareth has always loved solo walks at night as she gathered herbs or just to have more intimate solitude where she can stargaze in peace, but Grima starts joining her when he struggles to sleep (thanks trauma-induced nightmares), and even before there are romantic feelings they both just kinda... enjoy the company of someone who isn't hostile or judgmental and just want to be alone--so they be alone and introverted together.

Tathareth has a fear of horses (or really any large animal), so Grima tries to warm her up to them, even tries teaching her to ride one... but when she realizes that she isn't really a horse girl and riding isn't a skill of hers, she is content just riding with Grima instead.🥺

ALSO!!!!!! TATHARETH IS TALLER THAN GRIMA. and can lift him lmao dklsklkdlksdlk. But not by much.... just tall enough that she needs to lean down just a wee bit for a kiss-kiss--

also just know their """"""canonical"""" has me squealing and excited to write but jlsjljddlsjdlsjldsj don't wanna spoil much but uhhh imagery is similar to that scene with Aragorn and Arwen from Fellowship of the Ring.

These are the headcanons I offer for now!!!!!! I hope these are alright, and my inbox/ask box is always open to scream about these two🥺💛thanks so much again for this ask!!!!!!