#which is why the possibility that it was him was on my radar in the first place

[coriander-candlesticks]

Note to self: word prayers better when doing divinatory sessions

I think I've mentioned this before, but I do yes/no stone pulls on Sundays to ask for guidance about maintaining my health re: my commute because it's 2-2.5 hours each way via public transit if everything runs on time. It's rough on me in multiple ways and can lead to even more migraines than usual or being too fatigued to work at all, and it can be difficult to tell whether I'll have the spoons to go in person.

This past Sunday I was exhausted & stressed because of, you know, the horrors, and said my initial prayer a little differently than I usually do. I still invoked Apollo and Hermes as always, as both of them cover divination by lots, Apollo's domain covers health & disease, and he's the one I turn to for divination by default.

Now, the vast majority of the guidance and lessons Apollo has given have had to do with recognizing my physical & mental limits, especially around this issue. The answers I was getting this time around were...odd but not quite in the way they have been with just dud pulls, so I started asking clarifying questions to figure out what was going on. After a few - establishing that there was a reason for the answers but it wasn't a test or punishment or Apollo messing with me (which would have been. odd) - I realized that while I'd invoked Hermes as a god of divination by lots alongside Apollo, I had not explicitly asked him to act as a messenger and aid in communication this time around, nor had I asked Apollo to guide the divination session with the wording I usually use.

I think you can see where I'm going with this.

I re-said the prayer (correctly this time) and confirmed that it was, in fact, Hermes at first while re-doing the initial set of questions (which were much more consistent in the usual way), as well as confirming that the issue was the prayer wording. Lesson learned lol

[ethereacals]

i wish i were heather...

synopsis: you were under the impression that you were stable in your secret long-term relationship with three of the four marauders, until it becomes clear that you aren't the girl they want anymore. (so you think). will you lose them before its too late? or have you already?

pairings: fem!reader x poly!marauders ` poly!marauders x lily evans

warnings: NO LILY SLANDER!! SHE'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND ITS NOT HER FAULT!!, cusswords, ANGST, depressing, a blip of reader skipping meals on the radar but it's srsly nothing crazy, insecure reader, the marauders besides peter are dicks, reader is a little naive, the marauders borderline cheat on you, no happy ending, there might still be one thoughhh, possibly slytherin!reader if you squint?,

part one in the conan gray series

A/N!!: In some of the fic i use colors to represent a certain character! Orange is Lily, Red is James, and Green is Barty :3

wc; 2.4k

LIFE WAS AMAZING, which is not usually how stories begin.

You felt so safe and secure in your secret relationship with Hogwarts' once most eligible bachelors... The Marauders.

The rush of excitement that coursed through your veins every time you shared a hidden glance with Remus, or hiding in the showers of the Gryffindor boys locker room with James after his quidditch victory, and sneaking off to empty classrooms where anyone from anywhere could catch you with Sirius.

It was heavenly, these boys were all you would ever need.

until... now.

You were in Remus' sweater, he said it looked better on you than it did him. If only he knew how much you liked him...

The fireplace erupted with a citrine glow, illuminating the Gryffindor common room beautifully.

Most impactfully, it lit up Remus' scar-kissed features.

His freckles looked as if they were painted onto his face with careful hands by a renaissance painter.

His eyes half-lidded from his lack of sleep from the incoming full moon that was slowly approaching, it pained you to know how much they hurt him.

For once, Remus wasn't in a sweater. Since his was rested comfortably on your body, as your scent comforted The Wolf greatly.

And his scent comforted you, too.

Remus' book had suddenly landed on your lap, and though it startled you a bit. You didn't bother to ask why, until you sat up.

Remus was locked in a passionate conversation with Gryffindor's resident golden girl, Lily Evans.

"Evans, it's lovely to see you."

"Same to you, Lupin."

Godric, was she beautiful.

"I just stopped by to see if you had gotten any of the Defence Against The Dark Arts homework done?"

Lily Evans was as radiant as an angel who blessed anyone with her presence.

"I have; actually, I just finished my paper."

Remus seemed mesmerized by her, the golden gleam from the fire painting her features gorgeously in that same citrine glow as Remus'.

"Could I have a look of it? Not to copy it- obviously, I just want to see how others are wording the question."

You weren't even half as pretty as Lily.

"Of course, and I know you'd never cheat."

"You're the smartest witch in our year."

You tried not to mind other girls flirting with your boys.

Just because you knew that later that night they'd be back to your boys again, and only yours.

As she was about to go, she planted a soft kiss on the side of Remus' cheek, leaving him blushing softly as he bid her goodbye.

Your heart clenched, it was merely a pleasantry. You were being dramatic.

"Are you alright, dove?" Your head perked up at the sound of Remus' voice.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine." You mused, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

"Are you tired?" He asked carefully.

"I am, actually..." You forced a sweet smile onto your lips, as he leaned down to kiss them softly.

That kiss was the last one that felt anything more than a chore, an obligation.

That was also your last kiss with Remus.

Cheering James on at the quidditch pitch was just the thrill you needed after that melancholy moment with Remus.

He soared through the field like he was on top of the world, the players scattered around the pitch for one common goal: to win.

Gryffindor had won the game with 60 points, and James had caught the snitch like usual.

This game was also a rain game.

Just as you were about to head down to showers when you spotted Lily excitedly trailing after James.

You knew full well that James chased Lily tirelessly since they started school, that was also well before you came into the picture.

You also knew that she wanted nothing to do with him or the other marauders, so what was with her infatuation now?

Why your boys? She couldn't find her own boys?

But maybe she was just being friendly, right? The boys would never ever cheat on you... right?

You heard Lily giggle as James so graciously held the curtain open for her to enter the locker room, and your heart clenched.

You followed them in, jealously.

"James?" You called, as James poked his head from the changing area. Sweat glistening off his abs.

"Hi, Y/N." He shut the curtain behind him, as if he had something to hide.

Also; he barely just called you by your first name.

"You didn't come to see me after the game?" You questioned, grazing his cheek gently as he spoke."

"Sorry, Y/N. It was a long one." He excused, as he clearly looked a bit flushed.

"You look red, are you dehydrated?"

"Godric, y/n. you are hardly my mum."

You giggled as if it was a joke, yet he seemed quite stone faced.

You cleared your throat embarrassingly once you realized.

"I... just wanted to congratulate you on another win." You forcefully smiled again.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Then, he flashed his classic grin at you.

The grin he hadn't flashed at you since he realized he genuinely liked you.

What the fuck?

"Victory kiss?" You asked quietly, with some false hope mixed in.

"Of course." He pecked your forehead quickly, before hurrying off back to his changing area.

And with that, you had also left the steamy tent and outside into the cool, soft rain once more.

A forehead kiss? whenever he used to give you victory kisses they'd be full-on make outs in that same changing room or the showers.

James was falling out of love with you, and you knew it.

Luckily, you could easily disguise your tears with the excuse of it raining.

"Victory kiss?" Lily mewled, from her position on the stool in his changing spot.

"Just on the forehead, lovely."

You stopped showing up to breakfast, as the one time you decided to go Lily was sat in your spot next to Sirius.

Dorcas was nearly at her wits end with the boys and their antics.

The motley crew of Slytherins were the only ones who knew of your relationship, and they were pissed off.

"Treasure, surely they aren't fucked enough to know that you are the best thing they've ever had!" Barty explained, laying upside-down on his bed across from you.

"I-It's no use, Jr." You cried softly, mirroring his position yet on your bed instead. The tears (and blood) rushing to your hairline instead of your face because Dorcas said 'Your makeup is too pretty to ruin, love.' .

"There is a use, Y/L/N. we'll kill them-"

"Jr, absolutely not." Regulus chided, rubbing your shoulder. "She's clearly upset, I don't see the issue."

"Murder is never a good option, Barty." Dorcas scolded gently.

"So what are we gonna do then? My Treasure can't go on like this!"

"You said you've already talked to James and Remus? Maybe you can go talk to... eh... Sirius." Clearly, that name was hard for Regulus to get out.

"*Sniff* yeah, yeah- I'll go talk to him..." You sat up half-hazardously, and strutted out of the dorm-room to go (hopefully) save your relationship.

You still remember the third of December.

Sirius lounged on the couch while speaking with the other marauders, about some sort of prank on the other group of Slytherins.

"And then, we'll-"

"Hi, Siri." You sat next to him, beaming up at him (hopefully).

"...y/n." He greeted casually, before continuing to talk.

Your smile faded, as he continued to talk to your other boyfriends friends about this horrible prank.

Instead of leaving, you sat quietly next to them, as if you were some decoration or trophy wife.

This was truly your breaking point, as you saw Lily sit down on the couches of the common room as she caught all of their attention, you hadn't seemed to do that for ages. Though, she was wearing something familiar...

Remus'... sweater...

Remus'- YOUR Remus' sweater.

"How's it look?" Lily asked, giving them a twirl. Their eyes locked on her.

"Gorgeous, doll." Sirius flirted, shooting her a wink.

"Truly a sight for sore eyes." James grinned.

"It looks better on you than it did me." Remus took her hand and helped her sit down on the couch in between him and James.

That's exactly what he said to you...

He put his arm 'round her shoulder,

suddenly you got colder.

She's got them mesmerized... while you die.

But how could you hate her?

She's such an angel...

But then again you wished she were dead.

"Why would you ever kiss me?" You asked impulsively.

"What?" James looked up from Lily, all eyes on you.

"I mean- I'm not even half as pretty."

"Y/n, You're overthinking it-" Remus started it.

"You gave her your sweater!" You shot back.

"It's just polyester!" Remus defended.

"But you like her better." You felt the tears rush to your waterline.

"We're done." You whispered, leaving Lily looking so confused and the common room dead quiet.

"What does she mean by that...?" Lily seemed horrified.

"We... weren't really dating.." Sirius attempted to defend.

"Yes, we were, you tosser!" James shoved him.

"You said yourself that you were bored of her!" Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"Was I seriously the other woman?" Lily mewled, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Nonono- No, we were planning to break up with her but- because we all wanted you-" Sirius tried again.

"Then don't fuck around with her feelings just to get me!" Lily yelled, standing up quickly.

"I appreciate the admiration- but I need time to process, okay? You all were absolute... arseholes to her, I'll admit." Lily started,

"Are you saying no?" James quickly cut in.

"...No..." Lily ended.

After crying your eyes out to Barty and Regulus over your breakup, December 7th rolled around.

The day that students were meant to be studying for their OWLS and other end of term exams.

You would usually be in the library 24/7.

Lily, had finally come around and accepted the boys' proposal, and their relationship became public quickly.

Lily obviously still felt this bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as did all of them.

So today, Lily had convinced them all to apologize to you for borderline cheating and lying and manipulating and gaslighting-.

But, you were nowhere to be found.

"Regulus! Regulus, wait up!" Lily ran through the hallways to get to her.

"Evans, Brother.. Potter... and Lupin.." She said those last three names with utter disgust.

"We're trying to find Y/n, have you seen her?" Remus asked quietly, he was definitely feeling the most guilt.

"Y/n? Well, If she was here, I think she'd completely refuse to see you lot." Regulus explained bluntly.

"W-What do you mean "If she was here"?" James questioned.

"I mean, Her, Junior., and the Rosier twins completed their OWLS early and hightailed it to Junior's holiday house for the rest of the break." He explained casually.

"What?" Sirius scowled.

"What the hell is my girl-... Y/n doing with them?" James had the same expression as Sirius.

"They are simply better friends then you were to her, hm? I don't blame her."

"When will she be back?" Lily asked breathlessly.

"End of December, If she ever returns." Regulus strolled away, potions book in hand.

"...We fucked up."

Fin.

[rebelfell]

Sooo this started out being all cute and fluffy but veered over the edge into the flangst canyon…my bad. 💌 1.8k

Thinking about bestfriend!eddie who shows up your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.

Unintentionally, of course.

It was never something he planned to do. 

He just happened to be in CVS the night before, blazed out of his mind and wandering aimlessly while the guys argued about what snacks to get. And when he made the mistake of turning onto the designated holiday aisle, he was met with a barrage of pink and red glitter and sparkles and hearts exploding off every shelf—an absolute affrontal assault to his cynical sensibilities. 

But then he picks up this one card that catches his eye. It’s got a watercolor painting of this cute little porcupine who’s holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and there’s a speech bubble at the top that says “I Porcu-PINE for you!”

Eddie absolutely loses it.

He stands there making these stuttering giggling sounds and they’re coming out way louder than he intended, and the pimply and dead-eyed clerk behind the register leans over to give the laziest evil eye Eddie has ever seen. He does his best to stifle himself, but more little snickers still eke out as he picks up the envelope that goes with the card, and starts scanning the shelves for the Valentine’s variation of your favorite candy.

(Because it would be weird just to do the card, right? If he throws in some other stuff too, maybe it’ll be less conspicuous. Yeah? That makes sense, doesn’t it? Yeah, totally it does.)

Before he knows it, he’s collected a whole armload of crap. Two bags of the candies (they’re 2 for $5, that just makes good business sense), a little plushie with giant sparkly eyes (its stare is hypnotizing in an odd way, it kind of reminds him of you), and a small (tiny, honestly) bouquet of daisies wrapped in crinkly cellophane (he knows you like those way more than you like roses.)

He puts it all down on the counter and gets another withering glare from the cashier after he’s rung it all up. Eddie wonders if this guy is judging him; thinks he’s some lazy, loser boyfriend buying a bunch of junk gifts at the last possible minute. But Eddie doesn’t have the mental capability at the moment to explain that he’s not even buying these for a girlfriend—they’re all for his best friend, who he sometimes, occasionally, has some slightly inappropriate thoughts about, which yeah, is kind of inconvenient in a lot of ways, but it’s cool, he’s fine with that—

There’s another huff from the cashier as he repeats the total due, and Eddie realizes this guy doesn’t give a shit that Eddie might be a crappy boyfriend, he’s much more annoyed by the fact that he has yet to take out his wallet. And as he scrambles to do so, the rest of Corroded Coffin comes up to the front, still loudly arguing about the snacks they’re carrying in their hands.

They all give Eddie a funny look when they see what he’s getting, Grant being the first to bluntly ask who it’s for. They fall silent, exchanging wary glances when Eddie mumbles your name under his breath as he hands over a creased and wrinkled bill to pay at long last.

“That’s super weird, man, don’t do that,” Jeff argues immediately. “Just give it to Gareth, and he can give it to Annie instead. Problem solved.”

“Excuse me,” Gareth snaps, “but I’ve gotten my girl her gifts and they’re a hell of a lot better than this crap. Er, uhh…no offense.”

Their drummer winces, and his eyes dart guiltily between Eddie and his purchases.

“No—” Eddie’s face scrunches and he shakes his head defiantly. “They’re not, like, serious gifts. It doesn’t mean anything. And she’s dating that rich asshole, I’m sure he’s gonna bury her in expensive shit. This is barely gonna land on her radar,” he insists, now clutching his bag in his fist.

“So then why bother?” Jeff asks, widening his annoyingly perceptive eyes under arched brows. 

But Eddie doesn’t respond. He just stomps out to the parking lot and waits by the car. All the while thinking about all the things he can never quite manage to say out loud when it comes to you.

The next day, Eddie’s rethinking everything.

Sober now and staring down at the offerings piled up in the van’s passenger seat, he can’t help but think this might be the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life. And that’s saying something.

He talks himself in and out of going through with it about twenty times just in the ten minute drive it takes him to get to your apartment. And even as he climbs the stairs and raises his hand to knock, he has yet to decide if this is a good idea or not.

He came over semi-early, figuring you’d likely be busy later getting ready for some fancy dinner at some restaurant where Eddie probably couldn’t afford to order so much as a glass of water. 

But when you open the door, he can’t help but frown at your appearance. You don’t look like you are getting ready to go out, if anything you look like you’ve retired for the evening before 5pm.

Your face is bare except for a couple spots of zit cream, and you have on an old headband pushing your hair back out of your face. You’re swathed in the kind of baggy, oversized clothes he only sees you in when you’re ass deep in a cold or some other similarly debilitating illness. 

You don’t look sick, though. Just…sad?

How can you be sad on Love’s birthday?

“Hey, uhhh,” he says, forcing a tight smile. His palms start to sweat around the plastic handles he’s clutching behind his back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you reply.

There’s no sharpness to it, yet it still comes out kind of flat. Like you’re trying not to sound upset. But Eddie doesn’t push it as he follows you to the kitchen, sliding into his usual seat at your bar.

“What’s that?” you ask, eyes falling to the bag he plopped down on top of the counter.

“It’s stupid,” Eddie starts, “just some dumb little things I picked up.” For you, he adds in his head.

A small smile finally breaks the thin line your lips had been set in since he arrived and Eddie’s back broke out in a cold sweat under his leather jacket as he bashfully pushed the bag over to you.

He then watches, choking on his own heart, as you start pulling things out one by one.

You grin at the daisies, bringing them to your nose to sniff even though they probably smell more like weed than flowers after spending all night in the trailer. You squeal over the plushie, holding it up next to your face and squishing it. You hum excitedly at the first bag of candies, and laugh when you pull out a second one.

Then you get to the card.

Your eyes roll, but you can’t help smiling when you see Eddie’s nickname for you scrawled on the front of the envelope in his chicken scratch. And you’re still smiling as you slide your finger under the flap to tear through the bright red casing.

Then you read it, and your smile falls.

Your whole face does, in fact. It starts with a minute tremble of your chin that escalates into your brow pinching and your mouth crumpling into a frown. And you seem to clench every single muscle in your face to stop yourself from crying, but you just can’t keep it from happening.

“Hey, hey, wait, no, no, nooooo—”

Eddie doesn’t think, he doesn’t take a second to consider doing anything differently, he just jumps to his feet and comes around the counter to your side. He puts his arms around you automatically, letting you bury your face in his chest as you cling to him and try to settle yourself.

“I’m so-sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I’m sorry,” you babble, blubbering through the words.

“No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I swear, I just thought it was cute, I didn’t mean to—”

“It is cute,” you wail as tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s fucking adorable!”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?” Eddie chuckles, pulling back slightly and ducking his head to look you in the eye, trying to get you to smile back.

You sniffle a few more times before you manage to collect yourself and swipe your fingers under your eyes to smear the wetness of your tears across your cheeks. Eddie’s fists clench at his sides to stop them from reaching up to do it again for you when you miss a stray one.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been in such a weird funk all day since Matt, um…”

Your voice wobbled again and Eddie’s expression turned stony, scolding himself inwardly for letting even a tiny bit of excitement rise in his chest at the thought that you might have broken up.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “I mean, did you guys…are you…”

“No, nothing like that,” you inhaled shakily. “He just…he doesn’t really do Valentine’s Day. And it feels so stupid to get upset over it. Like it’s just a dumb holiday, and I don’t need, like, presents or a dinner or flowers or anything like that. I just…”

Your arms crossed, as if you were trying to hug yourself. Eddie wished he could do it for you.

“I don’t know, I thought we’d do something,” you finally add quietly.

“He’s not even coming over?” Eddie scoffs. Suddenly the outfit made more sense. “At all?”

Your eyes closed in a pained wince. “Don’t make me feel worse, please,” you beg him somberly.

“No, I—” Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to upset you. Honest.”

His head dropped guiltily, eyes glued to his sneakers that stood out against the tile in your kitchen. He glanced one last time at all the stupid stuff he bought now strewn across your counter.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you told him firmly. “That was really sweet, Eddie. Seriously, like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Your hand reaches out for the plushie again and you cradle it in your palm as you swoop in to drop a light peck on his cheek. The warmth of it makes Eddie’s whole face hot and he feels his neck tense from how much he wishes he could turn his head to the side and allow for his lips to meet yours. 

But of course he doesn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

He sure would think about it, though.

Eddie was still staring at his feet, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you for long. He glanced back up to see you pushing through all of the extraneous things you were feeling to give him a smile, small as it was. He nodded and opened his arms, welcoming you back into them.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispered into your hair. Too quiet even for you to hear him.

I thought for a while about whether or not this is them, but I think this might be an entirely different set of idiots.

also is it just me or is v-day particularly oppressive this year?

[gothgleek]

Utah Law- Adrian Chase x fem!Reader

It some states such as Utah it is illegal to have premarital sex. You scoff at the idea but your boyfriend is very strict when it comes to following the law so he refuses to budge even when you try tempting him.

Notes: NSFW, MDNI, this was written before I found out that formication laws were outlawed in Utah in 2019.

This was also based on my Adrian Chase NSFW Alphabet post and a few conversations with @hieronymph to whom this was written for🖤

Includes: Semi-public sex, dry humping, switch! Adrian, pussy eating, spanking, loud sex, face sitting. Mentions of absurd state laws, murder, and violence.

Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Adebayo asked with a raised brow when you threw your luggage into the van with just a little too much force and a scowl. Chris laughed.

“She’s mad because she didn’t get any last night.” He said with glee.

“Seriously?” Harcourt said, raising a brow from behind the driver’s seat.

“I thought it was tradition for the two of you to ‘break in’ every motel room you sleep in.” Adebayo questioned while making… some sort of gesture with her hands.

“It is tradition, thank you for remembering that Adebayo.” You turned to face Adrian. “Do you want to tell them why we didn’t honor tradition last night?”

Adrian sighed and pouted. “Pre-martial sex is against the law in Utah.”

“You’re kidding.” Economos deadpanned.

You were well aware of Adrian’s rather… strict way of looking at the law. He will kill anyone he finds breaking the law, hypocrisy aside. This ranges from murderers to vandals. As your little group went across the country to find butterflies, you came to find out his knowledge of the law not only included federal laws but also state laws. Including the obscure ones.

For example, while the two of you chased a possible witness in Portland, Adrian had come to a complete stop before you could enter the cemetery. He left you to chase the witness alone so he could run around the property. You chewed him out afterwards and his only defense was that in Oregon it’s a misdemeanor to bring weapons or go hunting in a cemetery. He gestured to the multiple guns and knives on his body.

“All I’m saying is, it’s better to keep a low radar and avoid breaking the law.” Adrian said with his hands up in defense when the group confronted him later. “And we can’t pick and choose which laws to follow. Otherwise we’d be no better than the bad guys.”

“Low radar?” You scoffed. “You’re dressed in a teal super suit! People are gonna know something is up! And I’m not sure if you remember this, but murder is also illegal!”

“Thank you for remembering it’s teal,” Adrian beamed at you and well, you couldn’t be mad at that face any longer. The point was, you knew Adrian took the law seriously even to the team’s detriment. Even to your detriment. Like now.

“He’s not kidding.” You crossed your arms.

“Babe, I offered loopholes like eating out your-“

“Okay!” Harcourt interrupted and started the van. “I do not want to listen to this. Economos, brief us.”

Everyone’s attention turned to Economos, except for you and Adrian. You pretended tie your shoe laces and bent over, which gave Adrian a peak of your teal lace bra under your baggy, low cut top. His whimper was enough confirmation from you that he did. You tried to hide your smirk as you listened to Economos. You knew it was enough to have Adrian eating out of the palm of your hand in no time.

The following evening, after a day of ‘innocent’ flashing Adrian- as well as ‘accidentally’ sending him a picture of you in the bra- Adrian wrapped his arms behind you and pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Please forgive me,” He begged into your ear. “I know you’re wearing matching teal panties with that bra. You know that’s my weakness.”

You glanced around the van and saw that besides Economos who was driving, everyone else was asleep. You glanced over at the GPS and saw that the team was about two miles from the Wyoming border. You never thought you would be so happy to see a ‘Welcome to Wyoming’ sign.

“I’ll forgive you in two miles,” You said and faced him. “But I can think of something to do while we wait.”

You began kissing Adrian, letting your fingers tangle between his brown locks. He gripped your waist and pulled you onto his lap. This continued until the GPS announced that the team had entered Wyoming. And while you enjoyed his kisses, you did wonder why Adrian made no move to fuck you.

“Come on,” You begged in between kisses. “When are you gonna fuck me?”

“Shhhh…Hold on,” Adrian shushed you before you could get too excited. You couldn’t wait to kiss that smirk off him. “Public sex is still illegal in Wyoming.”

He was fucking with you. Truly he was. “That’s never been an issue with you before!” You protested, recalling the many, many times the two of you fucked in much more public places, including the the woods and a bar alley.

“It wasn’t until you kept flashing me that bra of yours,” He said in a deep voice. “But if you’re so desperate, climb on sweetheart.” He shook his head and patted his denim covered thigh. “Because I’m not fucking you until we get to the motel. All you get right now is my thigh.”

You glared at him as you straddled his muscular thigh but you had to admit, this was turning you on a bit. Your teal panties were absolutely soaking right now. You started to grind on his thigh and your eyes fluttered to finally have some relief. You made a good choice choosing lace panties with a seam line that rubbed just right on your clit as you humped his leg.

“Shhh… slow down baby girl,” Adrian cooed as his hands slowed to your hips. “Slower… I said slower, baby girl. I’ve been looking forward to this all day, I don’t want you to wear yourself out before we get to our room.”

“Good girl,” He smiled as you were at a pace he was finally pleased with. He grabbed onto your waist a little tighter so he could control your movements. “You look so fucking pretty riding my leg like this.”

You pulled Adrian in for another kiss, this one sloppier and more reckless than the last. His mouth tasted like the maraschino cherries he stole from your milkshake. You wanted more of it. His hand grabs your ass to press against you and push himself deeper into your mouth. Adrian let out soft moans as you deepened the kiss. His other hand moves up your torso to grab you by the jaw and breaks the kiss so his mouth can move down your neck.

“Please baby, I want you,” You begged. “

Then Economos slams on the breaks and you fall off Adrian’s lap.

“We are at the motel,” He says, covering his eyes and to be honest, you kinda forgot he was driving. “I will go in and get us rooms. You two get first pick because I cannot clean the van again.”

The two of you run to your room, not even bothering to grab your bags from the van and Adrian presses you against the door, his mouth back on yours.

“I need you,” He says, pulling off your shirt and does not hesitate to kiss the skin around your teal bra.

“I love this bra so much.” He says between kisses. “You look so hot in teal… you look hot in all colors… but teal… teal takes the cake”

“And speaking of cake…I need to see those panties,” He said shamelessly. He moves his way downwards and had he not been holding you upright, you would’ve fell from the force he ripped your pants off. He kissed you through the lace of your panties and growled.

“You’re so fucking wet,” He panted as he hastily pulled it down. “I’m so sorry for leaving you like this for so long. Wait, actually I need more.”

Adrian shot up and pulled you to the bed, you kicked the pants off hastily as you tried not to trip, and he threw you down. He jumped on the bed, landing on his back.

“Ride my face,” He said quickly, pulling you on top of him. You threw your bra to the side, letting your breasts free. “I don’t want anything but you. Sit on my face now.”

You obeyed and Adrian wasted no time lapping up your pussy. His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer so your tongue could go deeper. You could feel the vibrations of his voice against your clit but you couldn’t make out what he said. Not that you cared when his tongue was doing that thing to your clit.

“Fuck! Adrian!” You screamed and you fell forward, your hands landing on his abs so you could grind your hips even harder against his mouth. Adrian began to suck on your clit more aggressively, rolling and curling his tongue all the while. You called out his name again as your hands fisted the sheets. Adrian smacked your ass, causing your body to jolt a bit further into his mouth, which he used as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Too much… fuck please, I’m getting… I’m getting closer! Fuck me! I’m getting closer! Oh fuck… Adrian… please…” Your stomach was tightening with every thrust of his tongue and every slap on your ass.

Adrian slid his tongue out of you and licked your clit, using his saliva to get it nice and wet so his fingers could take over. “Cum for me babygirl, cum on my tongue.” He said and that was enough to push you over the edge. You screamed his name as he sent you to completion.

You fell over to his side as you shook and Adrian sat up with a self-satisfied smile on his wet and puffy lips. “You’re so fucking gorgeous babe.”

Adrian kicked off his pants and pulled you to the edge of the bed by your legs. He started rubbing his cock against you, smearing his precum on your skin, as he waited for you to stop shaking. “Such a good girl baby, you didn’t even need my cock to cum.”

“No please,” You begged, your brain still a little fuzzy for him. “I need that too.”

“You’re pretty when you’re begging for my cock babe.” Adrian chuckled and leaned forward to kiss you, his hand on your jaw as he slowly slid into your sex. You mouth opened in a gasp and he slid his tongue in.

Adrian gives you shallow thrusts as he kissed you but once you signal you’ve adjusted to him, he gives you one last kiss and pulls away to start pounding away at you. Your back arched as you took more of him.

“Does it feel good baby?” Adrian asked and you nodded as he slid his fingers between your lips. “Good girl, get them nice and wet for me.”

He slid them out of your mouth and dragged them down your torso and to your clit. “We can never go to Utah again baby,” The fingers you covered with your saliva began playing with your clit. You arched your back and moaned loudly. “I can’t go another day without seeing you like this.”

You sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck. Adrian smiled and picked you up. He loved showing off how strong he was for you. He bounced you on his cock and began kissing your neck. You moaned his name again and a small part of your mind wondered if you were going to get a noise complaint the next morning. The thought was quickly forgotten when Adrian pushed you into a wall as he carried you. You pulled his hair to sloppily kiss him again and your fingers tangled in your hair as he fucked you.

Still sensitive from your last orgasm, it was taking very little time to build up to your second. Especially when this new position gave Adrian a new angle to fuck you in entirely. He could feel you tightening around him so he nodded and moaned between kisses.

You came with a scream, your body tightening as pleasure washed over every nerve. Adrian didn't last long after that either and you felt his cock twitch before filling you with his cum. You moaned as you felt it wash over you and pulled him in for another kiss.

Adrian carried you to the bed and laid you down, curling next to you.

“Are you tired already baby?’ Adrian tilted his head as he crawled over your prone body. “We need to make up for not having sex at the last motel.”

“Well if you insist baby,” You smile at him.

The following morning, Chris slams his bags a little too hard into the van.

“What’s wrong now?” Adebayo asked as she blew her extra sugary coffee.

“Those two-” He said with disgust dripping with every word and pointed at you and Adrian wrapped up around each other, energized and in love. “Were celebrating being in Wyoming all night.”

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[princessbrunette]

Baby daddy rafe being hit on everyone at the country club and reader not being able to do anything cuz they’re not together<//33

🧸✧˖°❅🍥

you don’t even know why you come to this stupid place anymore.

you supposed it was to keep up appearances. you didn’t wanna be that girl that turned twenty, got pregnant and then disappeared off the radar. why should you have to live in shame of being a young parent if rafe cameron didn’t? you refused, hence why you were taking a quiet afternoon off, sitting with a glass of wine at the country club enjoying the sunshine before you’d have to return to motherhood.

you didn’t expect him to be there at the same time you were. you try it to be cool about it, because you knew you were not with him — but seeing him surrounded by a group of girls batting their lashes and twirling their hair up at him made you feel… icky. you were protective, you supposed. sure, you weren’t together but that was the father of your child. the wine gave you that little confidence boost, so you decide to go and intervene, make something up.

flattening out your sundress you totter over, briefly losing that confidence for a moment as you stand to the side, waiting for your turn to be noticed like the rest of them. when he does, he cuts the flirtatious laughter short to politely shoo them away, wandering over to you.

“hi.” you state bashfully, embarrassed that you have to take up any of his time as if he didn’t put a whole baby in your stomach.

“hey, uh… how’s my girl?” he asks, and for a brief hopeful moment you think he’s talking about you. your chest warms anyway.

“she’s good. sarah is babysitting right now.” you explain softly, finding it hard to hold the eye contact. your eyes drift over to the girls he was speaking to instead, noticing their jealous glares. rafe hums, bringing his beer bottle to his lips and taking a sip.

“‘long as she’s not letting my baby around those pogues.” he comments, displeased and your heart sinks a little. you hate when he’s disappointed. maybe your hormones were still all out of whack. “was there… something you needed from me?”

you blink up at him dumbly, conjuring up an excuse. “w— uh… i was wondering… when you wanted to see her?” you fiddle with your hands, body heating up at how ill prepared you were for this conversation. he blinks, shifting on his feet.

“do i not…come and see her every weekend? i dont…” he frowns, genuinely confused. your eyes widen as you nod.

“yeah, no — of course i was just… wondering if you wanted to see her during the week too or anything? if you maybe wanted to…come over just for a little while?” you shrug, trying to make it as casual as possible. he stares at you for a moment like he’s trying to read you before looking around.

“you— you know i’m a very busy man now and —” he starts but you cut him off, already too hurt to let him continue.

“yeah! no it’s okay i totally get it rafe. i don’t wanna impede, you’re already doing a lot and i don’t wanna ask too m—” you go to ramble politely, humiliated at the speed in which the fat tears spring to your eyes.

“hey— let me finish, alright?” he places two hands on your shoulders and you immediately shut up, blinking up at him tearfully. “what i was going to say, okay — is — is that i’m a busy man now, but… you say the word and… i’ll drop everything, yeah? whats the problem have — have you been struggling with… with the baby or, what?” he looks concerned. maybe it was fatherhood that was changing him but you could tell he genuinely gave a shit. no he wasn’t fully rid of his boyish troublesome ways but there had definitely been a shift and that was enough to relieve you. he watches the stress physically melt from your body, brow relaxing as you sigh.

“not a…problem, rafe really it’s okay i just… it can be a little lonely… and i suppose i just want her to see her parents interacting, show her that we’re okay with eachother you know? give her some healthy ideals.” you explain, but really he stopped listening after the word lonely.

“i—i didn’t know you were lonely like that, you know i… i wouldn’t let that happen… okay? i’ll come over. we’ll hang out… yeah?” one hand that was resting on your shoulder comes up to cup your cheek in emphasis and you so badly want to nuzzle into it, let him take the weight of your head. instead you just stare up with doe eyes.

“yeah.” it comes out as a whisper and he licks his lips, nodding in approval.

“alright then.”

you glance over to the glaring girls and your gaze darts downwards. “uh, i think i’m upsetting your girlfriends.” you chuckle awkwardly, going to step back. he glances over his shoulder, letting go over you before shrugging a shoulder carelessly.

“more like… god damn fan girls. those bit— uh, women won’t leave me alone.” he corrects himself, making a clear effort. “gonna go and find topper now, okay? you gonna be fine?” he takes a step back and you want him to stay but you nod anyway.

“see you, rafe.”

you have a warm feeling in your stomach when you leave the country club. you weren’t together, and only a few weeks ago you were telling people how glad you were that this was the case. but now things were different. his favouritism should have been clear due to the fact he’d knocked you up, and maybe it was pity, if that was something rafe was even capable of — but you didn’t care. rafe liked you the most.

🧸✧˖°❅🍥

[cs-fox]

FOXHOUND | GHOST X FEM!READER

um hi 👋👋

this has been rolling around in my subconscious for a while

enjoy x

reader's callsign is Fox (my oc's callsign - apologies)

______________________________________________________________

Freezing wind whipped through the open sides of the helicopter. You, and seven other mates who were all lined up to be candidates for the fifth TASKFORCE 141 operator, were all in five layers of clothing, trying to keep out the icy wind which bit at any square milimetre of exposed skin.

The forest below was blanketed in pale white snow, reflecting up at you as you gazed down over it. A clearing - or, more akin to a tiny break in the thickly wooded area - was visible from the sky.

Even if you could barely see him, you swore you could feel those chilly coffee-tinted irises staring up at you like a laser sight.

Ghost - the man people questioned about his mortality - was tasked with hunting down the eight soldiers packed into one Boeing AH-64E Apache. He was the best tracker the taskforce had - so the soldier who survived the longest would be admitted into the task-force.

The only way your mates could see any chance of survival was staying under the radar for as long as possible.

Which, luckily enough - was impossible for you.

From the second his calculating gaze fell on your form, he'd decided you were the one he'd push, you were the one he was hell-bent on forcing to submit or withdraw from Selection. The two months you'd endured under his command had been nicknamed the ninth circle of hell.

Your muscles burned every night before bed. Your legs felt two hundred pounds heavier than usual.

But you were going to show him that you weren't the runt of the litter.

All of that raced through your mind as you prepared to jump. Calm hands - a stark contrast to how you felt inside - clipped and secured a carabiner to your harness. Within seconds, you were fast-roping down onto the snow.

Your boots crunched as you landed, breaking through a thin layer of ice that had formed over the untouched snow.

Thirty seconds, your mind screamed, thirty seconds and then he's after you.

You were the first one detached from the helicopter, and thus the first one to get a head-start.

Silently, you thanked the man who'd recommended rubber-soled boots. His Scottish accent meant you weren't able to catch his name - did he seriously just say "Soap"? - but that advice had been a godsend, for your shoes barely made any noise against the white-blanketed ground.

You heard a frantic yelp from behind you - fuck - that sounded like Jasper - and your legs worked harder until you were sure you were completely isolated. Ghost had a wicked sense of humour. No doubt he'd track down all of the other soldiers with one hand tied behind his back, and then creep up on you in a way you didn't know was possible for a man of his size - skull-faced bastard.

Then -

CRUNCH.

'Fox.'

You didn't even have to look to know it was him.

In seconds, you were gone - sprinting away like a hare. Now you knew he had your scent, he wouldn't let it go, sometimes going to extreme measures to get you - which he would, by the way.

So why don't you have some fun?

He's gonna love this.

You had wrung a tiny woodland fox's neck after tracking one down, and after making sure deep boot-prints led to it's position, you slid your hunting knife from the underside of it's jaw to the soft, plush and fatty part of it's stomach. After coating your gloves in blood, you scrawled a scarlet message in the white snow, and vaulted up into the lower branches of a tree which had thicker than usual foliage.

Now, you wait.

Sure enough, just as the sun was starting to set, you saw a figure seemingly emerge from the shadows. The huge man moved so silently, as he approached the carcass laid down across a fallen log, with it's innards spilling out from it's chest.

You watched his head tilt, examining the message you'd left for him, before he went completely, eerily still.

Then, a muscle jumped in his neck, before a deep, rumbling growl crawled up from the depths of his throat, a sound which made your knees weak.

Ghost bent down, viciously sawed off the fox's tail with his own hunting blade, and tied it to his belt, before exiting in a way you could only describe as hot.

He was attractive when he was angry... God...

You gave yourself one last chance to proudly survey your handiwork, the maroon stain sinking into the snow.

You're hunting the wrong fox.

______________________________________________________________

PART 2 ???

this was super fun whattt

[vicxss]

Natasha Romanoff x fem!agent!reader

Summary: since Natasha became an avenger she doesn't spend as much time with you

Warnings: slight angst at the beginning and pure filth at the end

English is not my first language

Me and Natasha have been girlfriends for two years now, and believe me, it wasn't for lack of effort, we were both S.H.I.E.L.D. leaving me aside because he spends most of his time with the other avengers, and that's when I always stop by the complex, for which I had a friendship with Wanda, but I don't understand why Natasha doesn't like that, until because I don't complain about Steve when she's busy or on a mission with him, she seems to have a radar because every time things are heating up between us Natasha shows up.

It's been three weeks since we've had sex, as she's always busy with her work, so the only fun I have is talking to Wanda, and right now I'm talking to her about Natasha.

Wanda:- But what do you mean she's not calling you?

Y/n: She's always busy! Apart from Steve who always calls her when things are heating up, I'm already suspicious if Natasha is cheating on me with him.

Wanda:- I don't think she would do that, she's crazy about you. (she hugs me)

Y/n:-If she's crazy about me, why doesn't she pay attention to me.

Wanda:- I don't know, but it's not possible that she'll betray you, because if that happens, I'll break it myself to stay with you.

Y/n:- It wouldn't be a bad idea, you're beautiful, kind, romantic and a great companion.

Wanda:- Ksksks, it wouldn't be a bad idea. (I look at the electronic clock on your dresser)

Y/n:- I need to go Wanda, you know how it is, I need to sleep well to work well.

Wanda:- Alright, see you tomorrow, I love you.

Y/n:- I love you too. I give her a kiss on the cheek and go to my apartment, as soon as I open the door, I find Natalia on the couch looking at the floor.

Y/n:- Are you ok Nat? I take off my coat and put the key on the counter, she turns her head and I see her face with tears running down it.

Y/n:- What happened?

Natasha:- What happened? You just told Wanda it wouldn't be bad to be with her instead of me!

Y/n:- What are you talking about?

Natasha:- I heard everything Y/n, every word you said to Wanda!

Y/n:- We were just kidding, and most of the things I said are true! You just hang out with Steve and pay no attention to me. And when was the last time we had sex?! Eh?!

Natasha:- I... I don't know.

Y/n:- That's right! Because every time Steve shows up and I can't take it anymore, all I wanted was to give you a night of pleasure!

Natasha:- That's beside the point.

Y/n:- Really? Because if you don't pay attention, I'll get someone who does.

Natasha:- I don't want this ok?! I don't want you to leave me!

Y/n:- I don't even know anymore Natasha. I'm about to leave the room, but I stop with her talking quietly to me.

Natasha:- I'm afraid that you don't think I'm amazing, that I'm not enough for you and that you'd rather have sex with someone else.

Y/n:- Natasha, you are the hottest and most amazing woman in my life, because if you weren't I wouldn't be in the avengers, and I would never be with someone else having you with me.

Natasha:- I want to reward you. (She puts her hands on my ass)

Y/n: Just do what you do best.

Natasha:- And what I do best. I approach her ear.

Y/n:- Eat me. I jump into her lap and she pulls me into a wild kiss, full of longing and explores every corner of my mouth, moves to my neck where she deposits hickeys and bites.

Y/n:- You don't have to tag me too much.

Natasha:- I'm going to tag you and show you how much I drive my girlfriend crazy.

She goes back to working on my neck, I was excited, but I was even more so when she shocks her intimacy into mine, making both of them moan, she takes us to the bedroom without breaking the caresses putting me on the bed.

Natasha:- Today I'm going to eat you like I haven't done for three weeks. She continues kissing me and I lift my torso to help her take my shirt off, she looks at my bare breasts without a bra, gives me a sexy look and falls with her mouth on one of my breasts while massaging the other with her hand , I let out low, pleasurable moans and I watch her bite my rigid nipple, then she takes turns between them, when both are sensitive, she distributes the kiss to my abdomen until the waistband of my shorts, through which she pulls them down, facing her. my sodden intimacy asking for attention.

Natasha:- Ah baby, you're so wet. She takes her thumb to my clitoris and she stimulates it over my panties, making me moan loudly, she laughs and brutally rips my panties and throws them in any corner, the same happens with her clothes, she distributes kisses on mine thighs and puffs of air right on top of my intimacy, she looks at me and opens her lips, running her tongue slowly along the length of that place, then I spit on it and lands on my pussy, making me scream and roll in her face in looking for more contact.

Y/n:- Ah...anh Natasha!...That's it! Do not stop! The more I screamed, the more she sucked, and forced her tongue into my entrance, penetrating it, making a back and forth with her tongue that makes me delirious with pleasure, I was about to come when she stops and gives me a kiss, I was going to complain more she She penetrates me with two fingers without warning, making me squeal, she comes up to my neck kissing it while moving her fingers slowly, I try to take her hand to make her speed up, she understands the message and increases strength and lunge speed.

Natasha:- Awn...You're so tight

Y/n, I can't imagine someone else eating you.

Y/n:- There...I-I'll...go Natasha, fuck me hard! She adds another finger to the bill and it goes faster, I never felt better than now, I grabbed her back scratching and squeezing as she did her work with her fingers in me, then I screamed in delight as I melted into her fingers. , I lift my head and see her removing her fingers from me so she sucks them.

Natasha:- You have incredible taste my love.

Y/n:- Now it's my turn. We turn our bodies and I take my kiss to her neck for which I mistreat that region, I place my hands on her breasts, squeezing them hard, watching her gasp.

Y/n:- I've grown up, but I think I'll go back to being a baby. I take her breast and feel her introduce her hand in my hair, squeezing it, I lick and suck on her chest, the same I do with the other one and I go straight to her intimacy for which I give light blows and see it contract.

Natasha:- No teasing baby, now suck me. She pushes my head towards her vagina, I start my job of sucking her, it's like I'm French kissing her and I see Natalia moan loudly, I go down to try something I saw, I start doing numbers with my tongue in her pussy , she lifts her hips by which she pushes even more her intimacy to my mouth: One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine ...ten. I stop sucking her and look into her face.

Y/n:- Sit on my face. I lie on the bed and see her climb on top of me and sit on my face so I go back to doing my work even faster, making her roll and rub herself even more on my face, I penetrate a finger into her intimacy without stopping sucking. her clit, she starts bouncing on my finger while I still have my tongue in her pussy.

Natasha:- Ow...na-not for love! I add one more finger and thrust harder, I notice her legs getting weak and giving slight spasms, she screams cum in my fingers, I clean all her intimacy before laying her on the bed and putting my head on her chest to rest.

Natasha:- I never leave you without having sex again. (She smooths my head)

Y/n:- I think it's good. (I snuggle into her and catch my breath)

Natasha:- I love you.

Y/n:- I love you more. She gives me a kiss on the forehead and I kiss her back, returning to my old position and we fall asleep like that, cuddling in bed.

[rebelliousneferut]

love in the spotlight | kylian mbappe x model!reader

summary; you and kylian have been dating for a while and everything is going well until he signs for real madrid and everyone thinks you broke up

genre; fluff, smau

face claim; elisa maino

note; English is not my first language

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

over a year of dating kylian mbappé feels surreal. it all started at a gala – a world you stepped into with your blossoming modeling career. a chance encounter, a meeting of eyes across the room, and suddenly, the world-famous footballer seemed like just another guy, shyly hoping to impress. he knew you were the one that night, and by the end of it, you were on a date with kylian mbappé.

the rollercoaster began. the highs were exhilarating – stolen kisses under the eiffel tower, surprise visits during fashion weeks, the thrill of cheering him on from the vip box at the parc des princes. the lows were like navigating a minefield – prying paparazzi, jealous whispers, fans who seemed to think they owned a piece of his heart. but through it all, you were a team. six months in, you took the plunge, moving to paris to be with him.

keeping your relationship a secret felt strange. but kylian, ever the strategist, knew the media frenzy that would erupt. so, you flew under the radar, your love a secret whispered between stolen moments. until, of course, the bombshell signing with real madrid. the world learned about kylian's move, and then, they learned about you. the spotlight found you, but you weren't afraid. you had him by your side, and together, you were ready to face anything.

everything was out in the open with kylian. from the start, fans adored their union. they were a social media darling couple, constantly cheering each other on and attending events together. kylian's move to real madrid, however, cast an unexpected shadow. public appearances dwindled, and whispers of a breakup swirled through the tabloids.

y/nl/nuser

liked by kendalljenner, wolfiecindy, charles_leclerc and others

y/nl/nuser ✨🌼

username you're the prettiest!!!

username is she in madrid with kylian?

username i don't think so. she was attending an event in milan

username it's been a while since we last saw them together 😢

username where is kylian and why not in the likes?? 😭

username don't overreact. obviously he is busy with his move to madrid

username even so he always has been so supportive with her

username they don't owe us nothing girl. let them be private if they want

charles_leclerc beauty

❤️ liked by the author

username i'm getting crazy rn

you were scrolling through your instagram when a post popped up. it was a hilarious play on the whole "celebrity couple break up" trope, and you found yourself letting out a genuine laugh. a moment later, kylian's face filled your screen on a video call. his brow furrowed in concern.

"there you are," he said, relief washing over his features. "why did you like that post, y/n?"

"oh, kylian" you sighed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "it was just... funny. sorry, mon amour, i just needed a laugh."

kylian's expression softened. he knew the pressure you were both under. "maybe we should do something to address the rumors," he suggested.

you nodded, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "let's give them something truly unexpected."

footballwags

liked by y/nl/nuser, username, kmbappefans

footballwags possible breakup between the model y/n l/n and the soccer player kylian mbappé? it's been a while since they were last seen together publicly and they currently no longer react to his posts and there doesn't seem to be any contact between them. we assume that y/n is in milan at an event to which she was invited while kylian is in madrid. what do you think about this? we are sad to see one of our favorite couples distance themselves, in any case we wish them both many good things

kmbappefans as any other couple they deserve respect. please give them privacy and don't spread unfunded rumours

username 💀💀💀

username she is in the likes...

username i think that's enough confirmation

username @k.mbappe @y/nl/nuser please tell us something 😭😭

k.mbappe

liked by vinijr, judebellingham, endrick and others

k.mbappe mi nueva casa 🏟️😍 #halamadrid

elisahums hala madrid baby

username and?

username who are you?????

kmbappefans 🤍🤍🤍

username she's not even here 💔

username i'm starting to believe the rumours...

realmadrid 🤍🤍🤍

judebellingham welcome mate 😆🤝

y/nl/nuser uploaded to their story;

k.mbappe mine ❤️

y/nl/nuser

liked by k.mbappe, wolfiecindy, kmbappefans, footballwags and others

y/nl/nuser from paris to madrid and to the end of the world, i love you my big boy ❤️

k.mbappe je t'aime mon amour, thank you for all your support ❤️

❤️ liked by the author

username I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THAT I'M CRYING

username i'm literally crying too 😭

username don't scare me like that again 😡

username you are my favourites

footballwags thanks god our favourite couple is still together and happy ❤️

k.mbappe uploaded to their story;

[caption: my pretty girl]

[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Referenced Sexual Themes, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Mild Angst, Romance, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It's hard being casual when the inner circle decides to play matchmaker

NOTE: Sam and Kat are still together in this fic. This detail is in no way meant to be disrespectful to Sam or Kat or their current partners

You're a creature of habit. Routine. This routine starts with the blaring of your alarm clock which today you failed to wake up to. Instead, the sound that reaches you through your slumber is shuffling around the room.

For a brief moment, you're panicked. You live alone so it's only understandable why you're alarmed. However, when your eyes open to reveal the beige ceiling above you, it fills you with a sense of relief. It's a ceiling you're familiar with. In a room you've slept in too many times in the past four months.

You sit up, hand coming up to push your messy hair away from your face. The sheet draped over you is providing very little coverage to your naked body, and even less so when your motion causes it to slide down your chest. You hurriedly readjust it, provoking a laugh out of Colby.

"Don't worry. Nothing I haven't seen before." He teases, pulling a shirt over his bare torso.

You roll your eyes at him, wrapping the sheet around you tighter to preserve what little dignity you have left over from last night. "Not in broad daylight, you haven't."

Again, your statement makes him laugh, the masking of humor keeping him unaware to how bitter you are surrounding that topic. To how true your words are. It's been almost a year now since this arrangement was kicked into motion, four months since it became more of a regular occurrence. But still, anything between you and Colby was always scheduled for after dark. Escapades by night. Undercover, cloaked in darkness, right past the radars of all your respective closest friends. There's no overlap to your friend groups, thankfully. Otherwise you would've already been compromised. Which you're unsure if it would be for better or for worse.

"First time for everything." Colby shrugs, noticing your furrowed brows as you scan the nightstand and floor in search of you phone. He spots it first and hands it to you.

It is indeed the first time for something - as confirmed by the white numbers displaying the time on your phone screen. It's 11 AM. Your jaw practically hits the floor in realization.

You're typically in and out of each other's places before dawn. Colby's a lot more lenient with it because, as mentioned, you live alone. You are a lot more strict with it, knowing that he too is grateful you never stick around long enough to be spotted by either Sam or Kat. He doesn't want to have the conversations that will most certainly follow them seeing you. So, avoidance is the best solution.

"Shit! Why didn't my alarm go off?" You curse, quickly swinging your legs over the edge of the bed in a hurry to get dressed and be out the door - or possibly window at this point. You're willing to climb down from the balcony if it means avoiding the other people in this house.

"It did. But you turned it off, rolled over and knocked out again." Colby explains, tossing you your bra which had somehow made its way halfway across the room in last night's rush to remove all garments.

You motion for him to turn around before dropping the sheet around your chest, "Then why didn't you wake me up?"

He tosses you your underwear with his back turned to you, missing out on the funny sight of it landing on your head. "I was the one who wore you out, the least I could do was let you sleep in." You hear his sly smirk even though you can't see it. And you let him know so by hurling a pillow at his head.

But that's just how it works between you and Colby. You are, in short, fuck buddies. And I'm using 'buddies' very loosely here. Because you have a lot of fun together and I don't just mean in the sheets. You have your golden moments like the occasional pillow fight, movie night, ungodly hour McDonald's runs. I'm not saying that all these instances were before or after sex, but it goes without saying that they usually were. But neither of you mind. It's just the nature of your relationship and you're happy with it. Well, you were, up until four months ago.

You live for those moments of just being goofy idiots together. Nothing between you goes neither far back nor down deep but it's fun for what it is. You believe you'll be better for it eventually. It's just unclear when that 'eventually' will happen.

"Go stand guard. Tell me when the coast is clear." You make quick work of your shoelaces, ticking off all your belongings from your mental list as you pick them up from the floor, rushing past Colby like a gust of wind.

"I'm not doing that." His scoff-like chuckle stops you in your tracks, causing you to whirl around and give him quite an offended look to which he shrugs his shoulders, "It's not that deep, Y/N. Plus, I doubt they're up already."

See, it is that deep. To you, at least. You realize you're blowing it up out of proportion for yourself but hearing him say that rubs you all the wrong ways. Of course he doesn't care. Sam and Kat have probably witnessed so many girls dashing out the front door in the morning. You're probably one of dozens. Or at least that's what you choose to believe in order to extinguish any possible spark of hope remaining.

You don't have it in you to argue so you just shake your head. "If you say so..."

Well, he did say so. He just happened to be terribly wrong.

As soon as you step foot downstairs you run directly into Kat. She's momentarily surprised to see another person in the house but a spark of recognition quickly ignites her eyes, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Oh my God, hi!" She laughs, recalibrating from the initial shock, "Y/N, right?"

It's your turn to be taken aback at her correct guess of your name. Clearly an educated one - or, not that you know yet, but not a guess at all.

"Um, yeah. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." You offer a polite response, still puzzled as to how Kat knows your name. You're not given much time to ponder that before getting enveloped in a hug you instinctively return.

"I'm Kat. Holy crap, I can't believe you're actually real! After all that talk and nothing to show for it we genuinely though Colby was fucking with us." She says as she pulls away but one of her hands remains holding yours, giving it a small tug and motioning toward the kitchen, "Come join us for breakfast."

You're unsure whether she simply doesn't notice or pretends not to but your eyes are wide and a very particular mix of emotions is painted across your face. You don't have time to unpack all that right now, though. Not when you have to come up with a quick excuse to let her down slowly. Under different circumstances you'd love to stick around in the lighthearted and warm company that is Kat but with how things stand... "Oh I don't-...I can't..." Yeah, you're not too quick on your feet with it.

"No, no - stay. No excuses." The voice comes from behind you, diverting both yours and Kat's attention to the staircase where Colby is standing, observing the interaction between you two. "Didn't you say it's your day off?"

If looks could kill, he'd be dead. If they could speak, the one you're giving him would be screaming 'what the actual fuck, dude?!'. Thankfully, Kat can't see it. So, she happily tugs you along, "Perfect! Come on now, you two, Sam is gonna starve because of you."

Your eyes never leave Colby and his all-too-smug, all-too-amused self. Once you're both out of sight, he doubles over in laughter, so pleased with his antics and your reaction to top it off.

What you missed is the whirlwind of hand gestures and glares Colby sent Kat from behind you, pleading with her not to out him the way she did. Not a single word was a lie, though, and he knows it. It's almost pathetic the way he's transformed into a lovesick puppy in the past few months. Your name is so frequently dropped in conversation that Sam and Kat even made a drinking game out of it.

But you don't need to know that, at least according to Colby. Kat is all the more willing to spill the beans. In her mind, it's for the best for all sides.

In the kitchen, you find a still very sleepy Sam - hair toussled, eyes barely open. He's picking at the food on his plate, clearly restricting himself from wolfing it all down before the rest of the table joins him. His disdain for table etiquette and politeness disappears when he sees the fourth person entering the kitchen - more so being dragged inside. The devilish smile on Kat's face is all the information he needs for the dots to be connected in his mind.

"Morning!" He greets you, his face lighting up - all sleepiness gone suddenly. His smile mimicks Kat's when he sees an exhausted Colby following suit behind you two. Although tired, there is a pleasant lightheartedness that's relaxed his features. It fills Sam with a sense of almost parental pride.

Recently, he couldn't help but take note of Colby's 'dry spell'. By that he means he hasn't seen his best friend bring any girls home for the past four months. Mostly because he's been bringing back the same one and always under his roommate's radar.

The one he hasn't been able to keep out of conversations.

It's almost like meeting a celebrity, finally having a whole person to connect to the name and loosely dropped information Colby has sprinkled completely unprompted.

"So you're the infamous Y/N." Sam grins and Colby can practically see the horns popping out from beneath his blonde locks. He knows that look - one that promises ruin to his reputation on count of entertainment. Colby has no time to try and tackle him before he keeps talking, "We've heard so much about you."

"Yeah....I've gathered that by now..." you can't help but laugh. Kat has already made sure to let you know that Colby runs his mouth about you freely - and sometimes unintentionally so Sam's words come as no surprise. "Hopefully nothing that could be held against me in court, though."

Sam laughs at your response, getting up out of his chair to grab you a plate, "Don't worry, it's not court admissible, but it's enough to blackmail you into dating our trademark third-wheel."

You're pleasantly taken by surprise by that remark. Lord knows you wouldn't need much blackmailing at all - but you obviously can't say that to his closest friends with him standing right fucking there, looking too cute for it not being even noon yet. So, instead, you opt to finesse, "I choose the reputational ruin any day, thank you kindly."

"Hey!" Colby whines, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger before giving it a tiny tug to put the spotlight of your attention on himself, "That's just rude."

"Hit you right in your cold, cold heart, did I?" You smirk up at him, tilting your head back to be able to meet his eyes with that challenging glint he's sending you returned ten fold.

Suddenly, that smug, enticing look on his face is wiped clean off when a crumpled napkin collides with his head - curtesy of Sam.

"Either get a room or sit your asses down, some of us are ready to resort to cannibalism with how hungry we are!" He says through laughter, childishly amused by the offended look his best friend is giving him from across the table. The laughing fit is only made worse when Kat lightly smacks the back of his head as punishment for having ruined the moment

Despite the magnetic field between the two of you, drawing you closer with every synched breath, you part - or at least you were going to but Kat has taken the seat beside Sam, leaving the two of you to sit beside one another and somehow, in some extraordinarily strange way, you find this - sitting at a table with his closest friends, your thigh brushing up against his every once in a while under the table - to be far more intimate than waking up tangled up in his sheets and arms.

* * * * *

The illusion of casualness is soon erased when you spend the entirety of breakfast chatting with Sam and Kat like you've known them all your life. And the fact that Colby's hand periodically finds yours under the table to give it a reassuring squeeze isn't helping you upkeep the reality of the true nature of your relationship with the guy sat beside you.

"So, Y/N...", Kat grabs your attention with a clap of her hands as she rests her elbows on the table, "I have an invitation for you and feel free to say no although I'd be devastated if you did so."

You chuckle and mimic her stance, leaning in as well as if what she's about to ask you is top secret, whispering theatrically in response, "Strong opener, go on."

Kat's thrilled to have you matching her energy, her smile widening with hope, "Ok so, these two...", she waves a jokingly dismissive hand at the boys, "...are dragging me to yet another haunted hotel this weekend and I'd love nothing more than to have some level-headed, sane company to even them out. So, what do you say? You in?"

The question catches you entirely off-guard. A notification sound plays in your head - the reminder of what your relationship with Colby actually is and how this trip Kat is inviting you to might potentially throw a stone at the glasshouse of tranquility you two have built around this label-less, undefined relationship.

The truth, however, is that you'd love to go. More than anything. And under any other circumstances you'd be jumping at the opportunity. Not just for the obvious reason to spend more time with Colby outside the bedroom you two tend to confine yourselves in; not even just to bathe in the sunshine that is Kat's aura - but simply because you're a fan of the paranormal, always have been. That's how you found Sam and Colby in the first place.

Yes, you were - and still are a fan. However, at this time, you didn't know about Colby's tendency to mess around with fans. And here we are now, three years later, the flirtations have moved past DMs and clothes and bedroom doors. Unfortunately, they've also crashed through the barricades to your heart as well but you'd be damned if you let him know that.

"Um...", you hesitate to answer, your gaze immediately fleeting over to Colby, trying to gauge his reaction to the idea but he's giving you nothing. He's either a master at upkeeping a poker face or genuinely has no particular reservations or even a spec of excitement at the idea of you joining them on this trip. And you can't tell which is worse.

"Hey, hey! Don't look at him. Who gives a shit what he thinks? I'm the one inviting you on mine and Sam's behalf although I bet you my life savings that Colby will thank me for this right as soon as you're out of earshot." Kat says sternly - or as close as she can get to it with that adorable smile of hers, "So, eyes on me - what do you say?"

While looking at Kat, you can almost pretend that all this isn't nearly as undefined and messy as it actually is. You can pretend that the feelings wreaking havoc on your brain and heart are justified and organized instead, properly directed at the man sitting beside you who you can pretend, even for a split second, is your boyfriend. And in this play-pretend scenario, the answer is so obvious. With these lines between reality and wishful imagination blurred, your ideal answer bleeds into the current, very real moment.

"Fuck it, why not"

* * * * *

About an hour or so later, you are forced to leave due to other plans you have scheduled for later in the day. All of which you know will be tinted with the thrill of anticipation for this upcoming impromptu trip you just agreed to.

You exchange warm goodbye hugs with Sam and Kat and Colby walks you to the door as the proper gentleman he is. A proper gentleman you'd like to sock in the face - just as much as you'd want to kiss him - for putting you in this situation.

"Hey, um, is me coming to this trip a problem to you in any way? If so I can find a way to worm out of it." You finally find the will and words to bring up your uncertainties once the two of you step out onto the front porch into the somewhat cloudy afternoon - perfectly resembling your mood.

Colby, ever the charmer, manages to skewer your heart in an instant with the easy, lopsided smile he flashes your way as he shakes his head, displacing a few locks of his already mess brown hair. "Nah, don't worry about it, I don't mind. It'll be fun...." he trails off for a second before continuing with a shrug, "...casual."

And that's when the other shoe drops. That's when those lines between wishful imagination and reality you'd let yourself blur become bold and sharp again, entire walls protruding where said lines once stood, forming firm and unbreakable barriers. Barriers for your own safety of mind and heart, to keep you from straying over in dreamland again. Barriers as thick as the ones around your heart he'd somehow managed to crash through.

"Right, of course." You reply almost automatically - you've gotten far too used to him reminding you of the casualness of it all but there is something vastly different about his friends being in the picture and accepting her so easily and naturally. "Well, thank you for having me for breakfast. Text me the details of the trip." You say, knowing full well you'll be thinking of excuses to opt out of said trip in the car all the way home.

"Of course, can't wait." Colby replies with a more sincere smile this time, catching you before you could turn to walk away, pressing his lips to your forehead.

As soon as your car is out of view - which is rather quick considering you're practically hightailing it out of there with a slight disregard for the neighborhood speed limit - Colby goes back inside.

He finds Sam and Kat still in the kitchen with the former washing the dishes from breakfast and the latter working on her laptop at the kitchen island.

Colby comes to stand behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear and make sure Sam doesn't catch wind of it, "Thank you."

Kat instantly knows what has warranted this gratitude. She replies with the brightest grin known to mankind and a conspiratory wink.

*sigh* If only he'd shown this enthusiasm in front of you. If only you didn't take his words at face value. So many 'if only's. But that's usually how it goes with love stories telling the tale of two ships in the night - missing each other by that much.

[cry1ngame]

BACK TO YOU

Drew McIntyre

- First ever post! Fem pov, cursing, may be a few mistakes I've glossed over, I've had part of this story saved in my notes for a long while but after this week's raw I HAD to continue it. ( Drew McIntyre my beloved )

You had been dodging him for weeks - literal weeks - and that didn't stop him from constantly trying to get in front of you, larger than life, with a smirk that said he knew exactly how much he was throwing you off your game. Drew McIntyre. The Scottish Psychopath. That Drew McIntyre. You didn’t think you’d done that much to get on his radar. Sure, you were killing it by climbing the ranks, match after match, win after win. Your face was starting to plaster itself on posters, advertisements, and highlight reels. People were noticing you. But Drew McIntyre noticing you? That felt...big. And honestly, a little alarming. At first, you thought it was jealousy. Maybe he didn’t like the attention you were getting. Maybe your growing momentum annoyed him. But no, he’d made it clear (in the most frustratingly confident way possible) that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t mad about your rise. Hell, he was happy for you. Said he was proud of what you were doing. The problem, according to him, was that you were doing it alone. He thought you had potential - more than potential. He thought you were destined for greatness, the kind of greatness that came from being at his side. He wanted to mentor you, partner with you, and create an alliance. He claimed you. He just wished, you know, that circumstances were a little different. Like, maybe you should be killing it with him. That’s right. Drew McIntyre wanted to team up. Which, to be fair, sounded great on paper….if he wasn’t embroiled in every ounce of drama under the sun. The Bloodline? Check. CM Punk? Check. Random chaos at every turn? Double check. But you? You weren’t a team player. Never had been. You were a lone wolf from day one. Sure, there’d been a tag match or two along the way ( obligatory stuff, for the views ) but alliances? Long-term partnerships? Not your style. You thrived on independence. Did your own thing, earned your own victories, made your own name. And Drew, frustratingly enough, respected that about you. Admired it, even. He just thought, “Hey, maybe you could be even greater with me.” I mean, he even called you the prodigal one ( second to him ).

But every week, you shut him down. Again. And again. And again. At first, it was the baggage he had...his drama-filled life wasn’t exactly appealing. But then you realized the truth - you loved the chase. Sure, you still preferred working alone, but this back-and-forth? The tension? The game? It was intoxicating. Drew might’ve been dead serious, but you? You were having fun. Not that he didn’t get under your skin every now and then. You still remember the day it all started. The Royal Rumble was on the horizon, and you were determined. This was your moment, your shot. The crowd was behind you, the energy electric. And then…his music hit.

Drew McIntyre.

He walked down the aisle, microphone in hand, head dipped low. His shadow stretched across the ramp and you could imagine the smirk on his features before you even saw it. He climbed into the ring swiftly, his towering frame making you feel so very small.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” he said, extending a hand like this was some kind of networking event. “Drew. Drew McIntyre.”

You raised the mic, ready to respond, but nothing came out. You weren’t exactly sure why he, of all people, had decided to interrupt you. You’d never crossed paths before. Not backstage. Not in the ring. Not even a sideways glance.

“Oh, sorry.” Drew took a mockingly apologetic step back, his smirk widening. “You’re confused, yeah? Don’t worry, I get ahead of myself sometimes. Jump right in without explaining. Allow me to fix that.” You stood there, rooted to the spot, the microphone still in your hand but forgotten as Drew stared at you. The crowd was eating it up, cheers ringing through the arena, wondering how this would play out with you two strangers, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was Drew McIntyre. “You’ve been making waves, aye?” Drew began, pacing the ring in front of you. “Winning matches, catching the eye of management, getting the crowd behind you. I mean, look at them!” He swept a hand toward the audience, who instinctively erupted into another cheer, and you felt your cheeks flush despite yourself. “They love you. They’re invested in your story. They see what I see.”

Your brow furrowed slightly at that last line, your brain catching up with his words. What did he see?

Drew stopped pacing, turning to face you fully now. He tilted his head, a knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Still no words, eh? That’s alright. I like a good listener. But let me make one thing crystal clear-” He stepped closer, and the air between you seemed to charge with something unidentifiable. “I’m not out here to take anything from you. I’m not out here to dim your spotlight or put you in your place, as they say.” His smirk turned almost wolfish, “I’m out here because I see potential in you. Potential that’s being squandered.”

The crowd gasped, and you blinked, finally snapping out of your daze. Squandered? Did he just say squandered? Your lips parted, and you raised your mic, but Drew placed his hand on it, pushing it down before you could speak.

“Ah, let me finish, please,” he said it like he wasn’t really asking. “I’m not saying you’re not doing well. Quite the opposite, actually. You’re thriving. But you’re thriving alone. And while I respect the whole lone wolf schtick, believe me, I’ve been there, I can’t help but wonder…” He leaned in slightly, a breath away from you. “How much further could you go with someone like me by your side?”

Your mind raced, replaying everything he’d said up until this point, and for a brief moment, you found yourself considering it. But then you shook your head slightly, the tiniest movement, and Drew noticed. Of course, he noticed.

He straightened up, chuckling softly, the sound low and almost… amused? “Ah, I see,” he said, taking a step back, giving you space. “You’re skeptical. That’s fair. I’d be the same in your shoes. But let me ask you this.” He gestured toward the titantron, where a montage of your highlights began to play, your most recent victories. “Is this enough for you? Are you satisfied with being good when you could be great?”

Immediately, you raised your mic, finally finding your voice. “Why do you care?” you asked, “What’s in it for you, Drew?”

He grinned at that, a genuine, almost boyish grin that took you by surprise. “Now that is a good question,” he said, nodding in approval. “And the answer is simple. I care because I’ve been where you are. I’ve walked this path, and I’ve seen what happens when you try to do it all on your own. I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I did.”

Suddenly, you felt a flicker of something other than confusion. Was it….understanding? No, you shook the thought away. You weren’t about to fall for his charm or his words. “Thanks for the advice,” you said finally, “but I’ve been doing just fine on my own. And I don’t need anyone, especially not you, to tell me how to succeed.”

Drew chuckled again, this time with a hint of frustration, and for a moment, you thought he might press the issue. But instead, he took another step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright then,” he said, “But don’t say I didn’t offer you soon enough.” With that, he turned and exited the ring, his music hitting again as he walked back up the ramp. But before he disappeared backstage, he glanced over his shoulder, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours one last time. At that moment, you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Week after week, it was the same routine. Drew McIntyre would just happen to bump into you, like clockwork. Oh, and he’d always play it off as a complete accident too. “Oh, didn’t see you there!” Like he wasn’t a six-foot-five wall of Scottish muscle with the stealth of a freight train. And then, with that disarming grin, he’d launch into some casual small talk. “How’s your day been?” he’d ask, all innocently, as if he hadn’t been strategically timing these “accidental” run-ins like he was plotting a heist. You weren’t stupid. You knew the guy had probably analyzed your whole routine like it was game tape. He seemed to have mapped out your water breaks, gym sessions, and post-match cooldowns just to stage these little encounters. And the worst part? It was kind of working. Not that you’d let him know that.

You almost tripped over yourself completely when the staff asked you to join commentary as a special guest one night. It sounded simple enough - sit down, watch some matches, sprinkle in your witty insights, maybe drop a one-liner or two. Easy! But no one bothered to mention who was lined up for a match that night.

Drew McIntyre. Of fucking course.

The moment his music hit, your once bubbly and confident persona took a nosedive. You went from charming and talkative to awkward and painfully aware of the walking hurricane now striding down the ramp. And Drew? He noticed. He noticed everything. Mid-match, as he laid waste to his poor opponent, Seth Rollins, he still found time to torment you. After slamming the man into the mat with the kind of force that made the entire ring rattle, Drew would glance your way. Sometimes he’d wave, like you were just an old friend in the crowd. Other times, he’d tilt his head at you, as if he were trying to crack open your skull and figure you out.

And you? Your attempts to play it cool were failing spectacularly. A simple question from the loveable Micheal Cole - “What do you think of Drew’s strategy here?” - felt like a trap. What were you supposed to say? “Oh, yeah, he’s terrifyingly good at his job, but can he stop staring at me for like five seconds?” Yeah, that wouldn’t fly. You really thought the torture was over when Drew had his win, did his signature post-match victory flex, and was presumably on his way to the locker room. But that wasn't the end of the story. Nope, you were wrong. So, so wrong. It was Drew McIntyre. And Drew McIntyre isn’t the kind of guy to let things lie when there’s an opportunity to stir the pot. You still remember how your heart practically jumped into your throat when he slipped out of the ring. His massive frame was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving from the match, but instead of heading for the ramp, he made a beeline for, you guessed it, the commentary table. Your first instinct? Lean back. Your second? Glare daggers at him. But the man was unfazed. No, he actually thrived off your discomfort.

With deliberate slowness, he placed a single hand on the table, leaning over just enough to close the gap between you. The sweat dripping from his brow only made him look more menacing. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it was like time froze. No words, no smirk, no witty quip. Just that silent, piercing stare. You gripped the armrests of your chair like they were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, refusing to flinch. It was a standoff, a painfully long one. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Drew straightened up, with the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as if to say, "Alright, you win this round." And then, just like that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving you to exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in your throat.

You thought this whole cat-and-mouse game with Drew McIntyre would stay fun, but there were times when things started to heat up. And not the kind of heat that gets the crowd going, either. No, it was something else. Something a little too intense. You couldn’t tell if that made the chase more thrilling or just downright nerve-wracking. Probably both. Definitely both.

You remember one night in particular. Oh, you remember it very well.

“You’re so damn selfish.”

The words hit you like a slap. You’d just walked off the heels of a brutal match, your body aching and your mind replaying every hit you’d taken, embarrassing you. The last thing you expected, or wanted, was Drew standing there, waiting for you like some storm cloud ready to burst. His tone wasn’t playful, not cocky or teasing like usual. It was sharp. Raw. A little too real. You stopped in your tracks, staring up at the ceiling like you were asking whatever the hell was above in the heavens for divine intervention. Anything to avoid meeting his gaze. Maybe if you prayed hard enough, he’d just….evaporate. ( Spoiler alert! he didn’t! ) When you finally looked forward, your heart sank faster than a wrestler getting powerbombed. Drew was right in front of you, his shadow swallowing you whole. You’d think by now, after all the weeks of close encounters, you’d be used to his suffocating presence.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His voice was low as he jabbed a finger between you and himself. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a demand. It was an order. And for the first time in this little game of yours, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to play anymore.

Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you wanted to keep playing.

. . .

In reality, your hypocrisy knew no bounds. You’d sworn to steer clear of Drew’s mess, to avoid his drama like it was a tag team match you weren’t booked for. Yet, another faithful night, you perched yourself on one of those battered backstage crates, legs dangling like some carefree kid at summer camp, transfixed as hell. And what had your attention? One of his promos. Seth Rollins, CM Punk, and Drew McIntyre, all squaring off in a verbal slugfest that somehow felt more violent than most actual matches. Drew was holding his ground, trading barbs like a man with nothing to lose and everything to prove. It was riveting, okay? You hated to admit it, but for those few minutes, you might as well have been just another fan sitting in the expensive seats with merch and popcorn.

“God, he’s insane-” you muttered to yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. Insane was probably an understatement. The man seemed to collect enemies like other people collected Funko Pops. And you hated that you…liked it. Drew wasn’t just playing chess; he was flipping the board over, setting the pieces on fire, and daring everyone else to deal with it. The promo ended with Drew walking off, his mic-drop moment lingering in the air like smoke after The American Nightmare’s three pyro displays. He stormed down the aisle and into the backstage area. And then, like fate ( or mischief ) had decided to pull a fast one, his eyes landed on you. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled, all child-like.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you drawled, leaning back against the wall, “I’d say you’re all for the drama.” You tilted your head, sizing him up with the kind of playful curiosity that was half a tease and half a challenge. “Do you, like, keep a checklist of everyone in the locker room you’ve yet to piss off? Or is it more of a spin-the-wheel situation?”

Drew stopped in his tracks, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement so fast it was almost dizzying. He cocked an eyebrow, that trademark smirk creeping across his face. “Oh, I don’t need a checklist,” he shot back, his Scottish brogue dripping with sarcasm. “It’s more of an art form, really. You wouldn’t understand. I mean, you would if you, y'know - tagged along.”

You let out a soft laugh, kicking your feet a little for emphasis. “An art form? Please. You’re like a walking soap opera, McIntyre. And the worst part is, you know it.”

“And yet,” He said, his voice dropping just enough to make you lean in slightly, “you’re watching. So pray tell, do you enjoy the show?”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you met his gaze. “Don’t get it twisted, McIntyre. I like watching you from afar. But, I don't want front-row seats to your circus shit.”

He studied you for a moment, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “Fair enough,” he said finally, taking a step back. “But if you ever change your mind…” He let the offer hang in the air before turning and walking away.

You watched him go, the corner of your mouth quirking upward despite yourself. Front-row seats? Not a chance. But sneaking a peek every now and then? Maybe.

. . .

You told yourself you had bigger things to focus on - mainly the Royal Rumble, which was practically breathing down your neck. All the fans were counting on your win. With only a week left, you needed laser focus. To your surprise, Drew seemed to understand that. Or at least, he pretended to. He backed off. No sudden interruptions, no cryptic stares from across the room, no impromptu speeches about your "wasted potential." And yet….you couldn’t help but feel off with that. Where was the usual chaos? The aggravating, borderline charming mind games from the man who appeared to be some kind of Scottish God? You tried to ignore the faint pang of disappointment every time you walked backstage, expecting him to appear, only to find yourself alone. Well, almost alone...because occasionally, Drew would stroll by, smirk in your direction like he knew something you didn’t, and then kept walking. And yeah, maybe that smirk made your pulse do something it absolutely shouldn’t. But you didn’t have time for that. No. No. No. Head down, full steam ahead. Unfortunately, focusing on the Rumble wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Case in point - being saddled with a random match against Liv Morgan. You weren’t exactly thrilled. Liv wasn’t your favorite person, but you respected her...a little. Okay, maybe barely. But she didn’t make it easy, with her need to talk and talk and talk and- whatever. Still, you showed up. That’s what you did. Match after match, day after day, even the ones you didn’t ask for. You stepped into the ring with Liv, and from the get-go, she was already running her mouth like her paycheck depended on it.

“You’re all alone,” she sneered, her long blonde hair swishing with that irritating laugh of hers echoing throughout the arena.

You couldn’t help it but you laughed. Not loud, not big, just a dry little chuckle under your breath. “Yeah? I work alone,” you shot back, deadpan.

Liv, ever dramatic, planted a hand on her hip and draped her other arm around Raquel Rodriguez’s shoulders, practically standing on her toes to reach her. The visual was almost enough to make you roll your eyes into the day of the royal rumble. “It’s good to have friends, you know?” Liv said, her tone syrupy sweet in the most nauseating way possible.

And that’s when you nearly facepalmed. This again? Was this your thing now? Everyone acting like your lack of alliances was some sort of existential crisis?

“Liv, don’t even-” you started, already knowing where this was going.

“Oh, no, no,” she cut you off, raising a hand. “I’m not saying you should come to my side. Ew. That’s frankly disgusting to even think about.” Her face twisted into a mock grimace before snapping back into her sassy smile. “What I am saying is that you should have someone watching your back. Someone to...I don’t know...back you up in the Rumble? I’m just warning you because I’m nice like that.”

You blinked at her, completely unimpressed. “Oh, you’re nice,” you said flatly. “That’s what this is?”

“Exactly!” Liv chirped.

For a second, you considered responding. Maybe calling her out on the thinly veiled condescension or pointing out how ridiculous her "advice" was. But then you decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Instead, you smirked, tilted your head, and let her dig her own hole. Because if there was one thing Liv Morgan hated, it was being ignored. And if she wanted to make an example out of you, she was about to learn the hard way. Hell everyone was going to learn at the rumble, you'd make sure of it.

. . .

You didn’t think much about Liv’s little “helpful” comments at first, I mean, why would you? But as the Royal Rumble loomed closer, something shifted. Tensions backstage were clear, crackling in the air like a thunderstorm. Everyone had the same goal - to win, to headline WrestleMania, to make themselves unforgettable! You were still focused on taking it all for yourself, but you’d be lying if you said the growing tension didn’t throw you off a little. The stink eye became a constant routine. Other women in the locker room were eyeing you like you were nothing more than a punching bag. You weren't stupid, you knew it wasn’t personal, ( okay, maybe it was personal ), but you also figured you weren’t the only one getting this treatment. Survival mode was kicking in for everyone, and apparently, giving dirty looks was a stress-relief hobby for half the roster. Still, you tried to brush it off, keeping your head down as you made your way through the halls. You were lost in your own thoughts, mapping out strategies and mentally preparing yourself for the chaos of the Rumble, when something, or someone, caught your attention. At the end of the hallway, there he was. Drew McIntyre, standing by one of the equipment crates, adjusting his gear. You stopped dead in your tracks, your stomach doing a weird little flip before you could help it. Damn it. Why did he always look like he’d stepped straight out of an action movie? His broad shoulders, his bare back…Nope. Nope. No. Stop staring. You swallowed hard, glancing away as if that could erase the fact you’d been ogling him for far longer than you cared to admit. But instead of turning around and walking away like you probably should have, you found your feet moving toward him. It wasn’t until you were just a few steps behind him that you realized you hadn’t really thought this through. What were you even going to say? You didn’t have a plan...you just... moved.

Still, you stood there, forcing yourself to speak. “You’ve been quiet lately,” you said, the words coming out more casual than you felt. Like you both were good buddies-

Drew straightened, glancing over his shoulder. When his gaze locked onto yours, his lips curved into that maddeningly confident smirk, the one that made you feel……well, something you didn’t want to think about too much. He turned fully to face you now, crossing his arms over his chest, making himself look bigger than he actually was. “Quiet?” he repeated, amused. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me.”

You blinked, taken aback by how easily he flipped the script. “I’m not,” you said quickly, though the slight defensive high pitched edge in your voice probably wasn’t helping your case. “I just…noticed something, that's all. You’re usually popping up everywhere, throwing your two cents in, but now? Silence.”

Drew tilted his head, his smirk softening. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I figured I’d give you some space. You’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? The Rumble, the spotlight….proving to everyone you can do it all on your own.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he knew he was poking at a sore spot.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms as well. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can! I know you can,” he said smoothly, his tone so infuriatingly agreeable that it almost sounded patronizing. “But handling it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone."

And there it was...the classic Drew McIntyre pitch. You should’ve seen it coming. You had no idea why you even bothered approaching him in the first place, but now that you had, you weren’t about to let him turn this into another “team up with me” speech.

“I’ve been doing just fine on my own,” you said firmly, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. “And I’ll win the Rumble the same way. Besides you've got your own damn rumble to worry about.”

Drew chuckled softly, shaking his head like you were missing some inside joke. “We’ll see,” he said simply. Then he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping low enough to send an uninvited shiver down your spine, his beard pricking your forehead. “Just don’t forget, I never play quiet for long.”

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours, just barely, but even that slight contact was enough to make you stumble, caught off guard by how ridiculously solid he was. You steadied yourself quickly, cheeks heating up as you glared after him. He didn’t look back. He just kept walking, all broad shoulders and confidence.You stood there for a moment, staring at him until he was gone, your mind a tangled mess of something jittering. Fuck him and his promises.

. . .

You dragged yourself out of those memories - Drew, the lead-up to the Royal Rumble, the side-eyes and whispers in the women’s locker room because none of that mattered. Not anymore. Because you were there. At the Royal Rumble. And what were you doing? Sitting backstage, watching the minutes tick by, mentally preparing for the war.

You sat further back from the rest of the women, away from the hushed voices and glares being thrown in your direction. You didn’t need to hear them to know exactly what they’re saying, how you were all talk, how you didn’t take teamwork seriously, how you though you were better than everyone else. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as if that could physically swat away their nonsense. Let them talk. Let them whisper and scheme and convince themselves that you aren’t everything you say you are. You specifically made sure to catch Liv Morgan’s eye and flash her a glare nasty enough to slice through steel. She got the message and she turned away.

Still, you sat there, watching people pass by, your mind unusually…..blank. Which was weird. Your brain was never blank. Maybe you were just focused? Too focused! Yeah, let’s go with that. Not nerves. Definitely not nerves. You rarely ever get nervous. You ran your fingers through your hair and shut your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. And then, just as you started to settle, you heard footsteps stop directly in front of you. You groaned, already preparing to shut down whoever thought that now was the perfect time to bother you. With an irritated sigh, you opened your eyes, ready to tell them exactly where they could shove their bad timing only to immediately lose your momentum the second you saw who was standing in front of you.

Drew. Of course it was him.

You leaned back instinctively as he loomed over you, his presence heavy even without a single word being spoken. “Drew…” You sighed, shifting under his stare. “Of all days, please. Not today.”

Silence.

You narrowed your eyes. “Drew?”

Nothing.

You knew this man loved his dramatic pauses, but this was excessive even for him.

“Drew, c’mon-”

And then he moved.

Instead of answering, he dropped down into a crouch, leveling himself with you, his face at eye level with yours. You immediately tensed. Fuck him. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Fucking what?” you snapped.

Drew tilted his head slightly, considering you for a moment before finally - finally - speaking. “You ready for this?”And just like that, something in your chest tightened. Because for the first time tonight, someone wasn't doubting you. He wasn't questioning whether you’ll crack, whether you’ll fold under the pressure. He wasn't treating you like some wildcard that’s bound to fall apart. No. He was just asking.

And somehow, that made….a difference for you.

Your instinct was to scoff, to roll your eyes and hit him with something sarcastic, but for some reason, you didn’t. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you…calmly. No smirk, no teasing, no hidden agenda. Just Drew, crouched in front of you like you’re the only thing in the world worth focusing on right now.

You exhaled slowly, “You think I’m not?”

Drew let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t say that.” His voice was steady, “But I also know that no matter how ready you think you are, the Rumble changes people.”

You frowned. “That supposed to be a warning?”

“More like a fact,” he said simply, resting his forearms on his knees. “You go in there with a plan, thinking you’ve got it all mapped out, and then-” he snapped his fingers,“-chaos hits. People you trust? Gone in an instant. People you never expected? Suddenly your biggest problem. It’s a different kind of fight. You don’t just have to be good, you have to be smarter than the twenty-nine other people trying to rip your head off.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze sharpened, the subtle way his voice drops, as if he was speaking from experience. Of course he was. Drew’s been in that ring before, he’s felt that pressure, survived it.

And you'll get to watch him in there that night too.

You shifted in your seat, eyes narrowing slightly. “So what? You come here to give me a motivational speech? Because if that’s the case, you can go ahead and just-”

“I came here to remind you that…whatever happens, you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

There it was. The pitch. Again. You knew it was coming, and yet, something about the way he said it now makes it oddly inviting.

Drew watched your reaction, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Relax, I’m not asking you to be my tag partner and braid each other’s hair. I’m just saying….when you’re in that ring, when the numbers start to stack against you, remember that not everyone in there wants to see you fail.”

That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did.

You shifted your gaze away, inhaling deeply through your nose. You didn’t do partnerships. You didn’t rely on people. And yet…You glanced back at him. He was watching you, unreadable as ever, but there was something to his expression, something you weren't sure what to do with.

So you did what you did best. You deflected. “You getting soft on me, McIntyre?”

Drew snorted, standing back up to his full, ridiculously tall height. “Not a chance,” he said, looking down at you. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Just….don’t be stupid in there.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting there, stuck in your mind. That was….new. A little too genuine, a little too caring coming from Drew. You weren’t sure what to make of it. You clenched your head. Whatever that was, it couldn’t ( wouldn’t ) be a distraction. Not tonight. You had a Rumble to win.

. . .

The roar of the crowd yanks you back to reality, shaking you out of the daze of embarrassment . The match is still going, the ring still packed with women clawing for their shot at glory. And you? You’re sitting on the cold, unforgiving floor outside the ring, pathetically perched against the apron like some kind of afterthought. And now, the questions start creeping in. How the hell do you come back from this? Maybe you should’ve played nicer, built bridges instead of burning them. Maybe if you’d actually given a damn about those forced tag teams, you wouldn’t have been easy pickings, ganged up on. Maybe, just maybe, you were never meant for this level of the game. Because right now, you feel like a joke.

You bite down on your lip, then wince at the sharp sting. You touch it and when you pull your fingers away, there’s blood. Great. Perfect. Like you needed another reminder of how thoroughly you got your ass handed to you.

With a sharp exhale, you slam your fist against the floor and tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling as tears well up in your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. This business is ruthless. Not everyone is going to make it, not everyone is going to be liked, and success isn’t guaranteed. But knowing that doesn’t make this sting any less. The noise of the match continues, bodies slamming, the crowd gasping, the referee shouting. You should still be in there. Then the crowd erupts, the volume suddenly loud as ever. Another elimination, maybe? Some huge moment you’re missing?

You lower your gaze, and - oh. Your stomach drops. Because striding down the aisle, eyes locked onto you, is Drew McIntyre.

You clench the edge of the apron, forcing yourself to stand despite the ache in your limbs. But the second you put weight on them, pain shoots through your body, and you sink right back down. “Get the fuck out of here." The words come out sharper than intended, but you don’t care. You glare up at him. Drew. He just stands there. Watching. Unmoving. "Are you kidding me?" you snap, "Go."

Drew blinks. Doesn't move.

Your patience, already thin, snaps again. "Go, Drew!"

Nothing. No irritation, no amusement, no snide remark. Just…..silence. And then - he moves.

You stiffen as he crouches down, his massive frame suddenly close, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. His expression is unreadable, which is somehow worse than if he were gloating. Then, without a word, he reaches out. You flinch instinctively, your body tensing, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his rough thumb drags over your split lip, smearing away the blood.

Your breath hitches. The touch is gentle. Too gentle. Especially for someone like Drew. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you stare at him, your mind scrambling for something, anything, to say. But he just watches you, as if waiting.

For what? you don’t know. And that? That excites you again. Just like it did when this whole game started. Although, it didn't feel like a game anymore.

Your eyes flutter as his hand shifts, trailing from your lip to the side of your face. His palm is warm, like it belongs to someone who’s always been there, always should be there. And somehow, against every stubborn instinct in your body, you find yourself leaning into it. A shaky sigh slips past your lips before you can stop it. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should be pushing him away, snapping something sharp and cutting, reminding him that you don’t need comfort, that you don’t want it. But instead, you just… sink into the moment. Like this is natural. Like this is allowed. And, God help you, it feels that way.

“Drew,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Before you can second-guess it. His thumb stills against your cheek, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s waiting. He knows. “Please?”

And that single word? It’s not just a plea. It’s a confirmation. A surrender of acceptance. Of him. Of this. Of whatever the hell has been building between you both, thick in the air, woven into every lingering glance, every sharp exchange, every time he’s looked at you like he’s just waiting for you to see it. And now you do.

And God, the relief of it, of finally stopping, of finally letting yourself go, hits harder than a punch to the gut. You exhale shakily, your body relaxing just slightly against his touch, and Drew’s fingers curl just the tiniest bit against your skin, like he’s grounding himself in this moment too. For the first time, you don’t treat it like a game, don’t pretend you’re still running. Because you’re not.

You can’t.

[leiflitter]

So, Mystra-

The more I think about her, the more I want to egg all of her statues, because I am honestly convinced that she's likely way more embroiled in Gale's fall from favour than she seems- and that she likely never cared for him in any meaningful sense.

This is gonna be long, gang.

Also I am 1000% up for screaming about Gale/forming an anti-Mystra union so y'know let's be pals

My thoughts are thus:

She has likely always known about his potential and capability of power. He was a child prodigy, after all- and she's a GODDESS. From the first time he truly used the weave, he was on her radar.

This also makes Gale's relationship with Elminster seem too convenient. As much potential as Gale demonstrates, it's also important to remember that Elminster is Mystra's chosen- and Mystra's chosen are often tasked with upholding and protecting balance in the weave. There are countless wizards that Elminster could mentor- so why Gale specifically?

The same is true of Gale's magical education. I've seen plenty of speculation about his possible potential as a sorcerer, and there's a lot of questions around the circumstances of him entering the Blackstaff Academy- as well as a confirmation of his power when he, a little baby trainee wizard, uses The Actual Blackstaff to cast a spell.

As an aside, Gale's little story about his misadventure with The Blackstaff is especially scary when taking into account that the staff is very devious, and it's primary purpose is to protect Waterdeep- although this is again speculation, I don't think the portal to limbo was just the spell going very, very wonky. I think the Staff, sensing Gale's ability and (through the very clear context clues of him using the fucking staff that you normally would need to attune to and that belongs to the top fancy wizard in waterdeep) his ambition, decided that he was clearly a potential threat that might be better off being quietly removed via Death Slaad.

We also know of at least one story of a young, powerful wizard who, y'know, led to the death of Mystryl and the loss of all magic- in part because he lacked the discipline that he should have learned at Wizard School.

So Gale comes along. Karsus 2.0- he's back, he's human and- most importantly- he's lonely.

How better to neutralise him as a threat than to make him loyal to her? Why would she cast aside a possible asset when she could use him?

The main problem with her plan is Gale himself. She can get him into wizard school. She can get Elminster to mentor him. She can make sure that Gale gets the best magical education, so hopefully he will be content and settle for being an archmage.

She can't, however, account for Gale's brain. Let's be honest, Gale is neurodivergent as fuck, and magic is his number one special interest. He was never going to be content to enjoy magic a "normal" amount, so no matter how many hours he may spend being taught about how great Mystra is and how the limits she sets are to be respected... he won't stop learning, growing more powerful, becoming more and more of a threat to her.

So how does she cement his loyalty? By getting personal. This is why him being isolated is important- it gives her an advantage. She can be number one without any effort. If he has an actual bond to her, not just the concept of her, then he won't be dangerous. Except, again, she's assuming that he'll be like so many other mortals and be so awed by her presence that he'll finally be satisfied. But he isn't.

Why the fuck would a goddess take someone so clearly, deeply intense about magic into her personal realm? Why would she show him all the power he would never be able to access?

Because, to her, he's just a mortal. There has to be a point in which he'll either be sated or he'll realise his limits and give up, because he's just an extremely powerful ant in comparison to her. Mystra has never considered getting to know Gale. If she had, she'd have realised that doing the grand tour of All The Magic You Can't Ever Do was a huge mistake. That making herself the focal point of his entire existence was an absolutely dogshit move.

Gale throws himself so hard into Being Mystra's Best Boy because he has nothing outside of magic other than his mother. He summoned his best friend, and he admits that he has colleagues and acquaintances, but nothing much else. He and Elminster clearly care for each other, but it's clear that Mystra's placed barriers between them- and even if they were able to be best buds and make friendship bracelets, together, they're at vastly different stages of life.

It's also likely that Mystra's interest in him led to his isolation. He has been marked as Special- the old gifted child problem where him being So Smart So Magic meant he bypassed the social side of things.

So of course he wants to prove himself, to impress her- his entire metric for his self-worth is Being A Wizard. He says he's bumped uglies with mortals before- but he doesn't mention anyone specifically. And, let's be frank, the man has a case of foot-in-mouth syndrome- if he had any meaningful romantic experience before Mystra, you know he'd have brought it up at least once. "Ah, autumncrocus- back in my apprentice days I picked a bunch for the object of my youthful affections. Unfortunately I hadn't realised they were allergic- but they certainly appreciated the gesture, if you catch my implication... Once they stopped sneezing, of course."

She becomes his whole world. He wants so desperately to be on her level, to be what he thinks she deserves- and yes, it was incredibly stupid of him. However, what the fuck was Mystra doing?

Throughout BG3, high approval Gale is actually incredibly receptive if you tell him not to persue power. Yes, his earlier mistakes may play into this, but I find it hard to believe that he'd be any less receptive to Mystra.

To quote- "I pouted. I pleaded. I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. But she only smiled and told me to be contented."

So, then, why did Mystra not actually engage with Gale on this?

Because she never cared about him.

She tried all the options she thought would work on a mortal, and when they were done she didn't consider trying anything else. She never knew him well enough to understand his motivations- he should have been satisfied with Magic Sex because surely any mortal would be. She couldn't even consider that his love wasn't just him liking the company and getting laid, that he'd still want to prove himself to her. To be worthy of the Mystra she'd let him believe in.

And when he fucked up- if she had helped him, even in a tiny way, then she'd have achieved her goal. Imagine if he'd come to her, agonised by the dark magic within him, and she'd been merciful. The way you would be, if you loved someone. If she had actually known Gale? She'd have done it.

But Mystra doesn't see it as an act of love gone wrong. To Mystra, it's proof that she can't control him, that his potential isn't worth whatever effort she'd need to put in.

She abandons him to die- expects him to go on a pilgramage into the wilderness and just go boom.

When he doesn't? She decides that, fine, she'll deal with it- by sending Elminster to tell Gale the good news! She'll "forgive" him if he detonates himself, honest! He trusts Elminster, Elminster's a father figure to him, he'll do what Elminster tells him. Except that's another example of her not understanding Gale in the slightest. Instead of hope, she's rubbing salt in his wounds- she's flexing her power and showing Gale that his bond with Elminster was always conditional on Mystra's approval, and that Elminster's loyalty lies with her.

No wonder Elminster sent a construct- it's the closest thing he can do that isn't abject refusal.

I am gonna stop rambling now but in conclusion:

Mystra, you absolutely suck. Get wrecked. I hope Bhaal shits in your pocket dimension.

[pyroy3]

Compiling additional proof against Wilbur into one, easy to understand list.

I'm making a simple list that anyone can refer to when faced with doubts about Shelby's and other victims claims. I don't know if this will reach the right audience, or reach anyone at all, but i'd like to get it off my chest.

Why do I care so much? Because i've followed Wilbur since his day on the Jacksucksatlife channel. He had a great influence over me as a teenager, and it sucks that he was an asshole all along. I want to see him fail, that's all.

Main points are all in Shelby, Nikki, Minx and other creators' videos on him. These are just small details that are easily missed.

Wilbur being abusive towards his friends

The first video in particular really highlights the amount of power that Wilbur holds. "Tell them about how awful I am to you" seems like a dangerous thing to say as someone who is actually abusive, but it's likely that he knows he can get away with it. He doesn't expect anyone to call him out on his behaviour.

The other problem I have with this clip aside from the taunting, is the vacuum cleaner. He asks her to tell the people watching about her experience, and immediately starts vacuuming for no reason which drowns out the noise of her speaking. Feel free to tell me i'm looking into this too much, but this is how I feel about it: It's him (knowingly or unknowingly) showing off his power. Showing that he's in control even when she's talking about the biting, creating an understanding that it's not a serious issue and that it's just a joke. His humour makes the audience laugh along at an issue that we now understand wasn't funny.

A clip talking about how Wilbur threw Niki because she playfully said she was big and strong. His quick sentence "you were saying you were stronger than-" could either be him misremembering, deciding to ignore that detail, or literally saying that he interpreted her actions as claiming to be stronger than him. He says it was a "consensual throwing" but we already know how terrible he is with consent. TLDW: Niki said she was big and strong so Wilbur threw her "to assert dominance" (and show that he was stronger than her).

Niki has confirmed that she "knew wilbur in that way", but aside from mentioning the biting habit, she doesn't want to talk about it. She just said that that period was a dark time in her life. No one should ask her to talk more about this (or even bring it up around her), but it is unfortunately possible that she carries even more horrible experiences about Will with her.

In Tommy's disneyland vlog, there is a short clip where Tommy playfully unties Wilbur's shoelaces and gets his hand stomped on. Thing like these flew under the radar because of their brotherly bond. You'd expect two young brothers to react like this, but not a grown man and his teenage friend. Tommy tells him that his finger got cut, and instead of apologizing, Wilbur says it was because Tommy was gonna untie his shoelaces. He essentially says that Tommy had it coming, that it was his fault he got hurt.

The biting behaviour wasn't exclusive to romantic partners. This is a clip of him biting Tommy's hand "for content", despite Tommy repeatedly shouting no. The biting isn't bad here, but it once again proves that this was something he genuinely did.

The story starts at 0:38. Here, Wilbur tells the story of how he helped Techno pick apples by gently throwing them so Techno could put them in the basket. Techno says that Wilbur is very bad at throwing. In response, Wilbur says that he threw an apple as hard as he could, aiming for his stomach. Instead, he accidentally hit the shoulder that his surgery was on. Anyone who's been hit in the stomach should know how painful it is. If Wilbur were to throw an apple has hard as he could at his stomach, it would seriously hurt. But he laughs it off. Wilbur once again claims that the person he hurt deserved it, because techno made fun of his throwing ability. I've heard that Techno's dad yelled at Wilbur for doing it, but even then, he still laughs about the story.

Wilbur's music and separating it from the artist

It's completely natural for a musician with a history of bad mental health to blame himself in his music. One of Wilbur's biggest inspirations, Crywank, have lots of songs about being a bad person. A symptom of depression is to believe you're a bad person. But as far as we know, Wilbur's music actually told the truth.

I can't find the tweet, but we also know that one of wilburs old friends(?) came out with the info that Lovejoy's song "concrete" was based on their experience, and the song explains Wilbur's neglectful behaviour.

You should know what Lovejoy's music is about. A lot of it is based on toxic relationships, being cheated on, being abused. It is a complete mockery of the people that he hurt. "Call me what you like" is clearly about being in an abusive relationship where his partner takes advantage of him and cheats on him. She forces him to "bump his head into every doorway she sees suitable for them to go through". Not that he knows what the song he wrote is about though, since he couldn't recall a single thing about the song during the genius interview. Yes, he was high, but he may as well had someone ghostwrite it for him.

Singing "you claim your ex-boyfriend's a policeman, I say you need better standards" in the song Perfume is crazy when his standards are allowing abuse to happen.

When listening to Scum, you repeatedly hear him admitting to being scum and waste. Concrete is about how he's a piece of shit. Consequences should remind you of the actual consequences of his actions. I already explained what's wrong with "your sister was right". His parody songs are direct reflections of his real personality.

However, if you still want to listen to him - spotify has a feature where you can put local files into your playlists. If you have his music downloaded, you can listen to it on spotify without giving him money or views. Just saying.

Why he can get away with it

Look at him. He is an attractive white man in the UK, And pretty privilege is a thing, no matter how you look at it. He's popular and has gotten empathy from impressionable teenagers on the internet. A lot of people have put him on a pedestal after he showed support for the LGBT+ community and BLM, singing about being against capitalism. People feel bad for him because of his history with mental health problems. They excuse his actions because he was depressed during his relationships. He also has a pattern of exclusively targeting those weaker than him. Tiny women who he can pin down, throw or bite to show he's stronger than, and teenager Tommy who believed they had a brother dynamic. You will also notice that the only people who have shared their experience with him have been women who didn’t feel strong enough to fight back against him. He is a manipulator through and through.

This is not all the proof there is

If you need more convincing, watch other creator's videos and statements on the subject. Shelby, Niki, Minx, Alicenyannya. There are also more small things that he has done that add up, either violent behaviour, yelling, or ignoring people's boundaries.

You can keep uselessly arguing about why he acted this way, but the physical abuse is undeniable, and I hope that the other points in this post has shown his disrespect for consent (ignoring people saying no), manipulative behaviour (victim blaming, making it seem like a joke) and lack of care for the consequences of his actions (stomping on tommy's hand, throwing an apple as hard as he can at techno, throwing niki, biting his girlfriends).

Thank you to anyone who got this far, I hope someone will get use out of it. I'm happy to finally get what I wanted to say out there.

[onebizarrekai]

Kai don't be shy and tell us the lore abt fatal flaws pretty please :3

sorry I'm too shy… I can't do it…

jk. which lore? I can give you some of my ideas I've been brainstorming. I don't know how many of these are repeats though.

fatal flaws is not exactly modernized; it's very possible they're in an ambiguously semi-post-apocalyptic setting, one that's rebuilt but it's been long enough that people don't remember. their country doesn't have any relationships with the outside world. even if there are other people out there, it's likely believed that there are no other civilizations out there, that the mainland is a barren wasteland.

"being a sorcerer" is the kind of rumor that makes you an immediate outcast. it's not illegal to be a sorcerer, but society has turned against them due to prejudice and the sorcerer parasite. the parasite basically kills sorcerers and turns them into 'zombies', like fungal hosts. it's a contamination; they're not born with it. but regular humans think that they're born with it.

miles and arthur lived in a poor sorcerer district in the countryside that existed under the radar, they hadn't been found by the government yet, but the parasite got in. miles lived with his single father and arthur may have possibly never known his parents. (note the big maybe) when the parasite hit, the military found them. the two of them had to escape.

vick grew up in the capital city and was taught in school that the military is infallible and that sorcerers are dangerous. growing up getting into fights and getting in trouble, she eventually went to training camp and got a job in the city guard due to it being well-paying, but it wasn't a particularly good or welcoming job. they eventually told her she "had to quit" due to her badly representing their government with her temper. she didn't start changing her mind about sorcerers until adulthood.

blue is just Some Guy, there is definitely nothing weird going on with him, nope, totally nothing weird. he definitely isn't trying to hide his backstory or anything. he is just a regular delivery boy.

arthur has very confused opinions about sorcerers. he grew up seeing himself as a normal human, and eventually became ashamed of being one once he realized what it meant. he thinks justice is very important, and people should be punished for wrongdoings, but his desire to take crime more seriously just perpetuated the laws that hurt sorcerers. he's not opinionated like miles about it. part of him thinks, "wouldn't people be happier if everyone was the same?" and the machine happens, "why don't we use people's magic to power the city and make it a better place?" he's… complicated.

hacker's a regular guy, but he lives upstairs in randy's restaurant like miles does, and he works for randy. he does Computer Shit. he did used to be affiliated with a gang and his stupid ex still tries to get his attention sometimes.

bunny is a sorcerer kid who likely lost her family to the parasite. I haven't picked apart her story yet, but randy took her in while vick was working in the guard. he worries a lot about her schooling; he and hacker try to do it themselves because randy's afraid of sending her to public school, since bunny's a sorcerer and she's autistic. vick is sort of jealous because she feels like she never got any special treatment growing up.

crystal comes from a surrounding island where people aren't known to live at. she keeps her identity on the down low, because while she's not technically a sorcerer, what she actually is would freak people out even more.

Once Upon A Time™, Charles L'bard the First arrived on the island we now know as our home. With his Big Might and Big Charisma, he smote the cursed monsters and their henchmen that resided there and became a hero. The people crowned him the Island's Hero, the Lord of the Sun, and he became the first king.

many generations later, the populous demanded an elected official instead. this did not make the royal family very happy……

[auras-moonstone]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ don’t blame me for what you made me do

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.6K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!carpenter!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n is finally able to get revenge on her sisters when the bailey family reaches out to her to ask her to join the plan.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: implied character death. murder. family issues. bonding over shared issues. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: on sunday it was scream 6’s anniversary and it made me miss that era sm😫 the fandom is so dead, especially the ethan/jack one.

y/n had always felt like an outsider in her own family. her mom’s favorites had always been sam and tara. and y/n went under her radar, the curse of the middle child, they say. and then there were her sisters, who she was also not very close with. despite having only one year difference with tara, the youngest sibling had a better relationship with sam, so y/n was also left alone in the sibling department. she only had her dad, who used to be her entire world until he packed his bags and left her behind. and it was all because of sam carpenter.

revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. and after years of waiting, the opportunity came to y/n. it actually knocked on the door of her new apartment in new york city.

“um, hello? can i help you?” the girl asked confused, seeing three strangers standing before her. one was a man around his forties, then there was a tall boy with curly hair and a red-haired girl with green eyes.

“hi, y/n carpenter, right?” the man said.

“yeah… do i know you?” y/n asked, a tad creeped out.

“no, but you knew my son, richie.”

richie, the man who used to date sam and then try to kill her. the man who tied y/n up and hid her in a closet, telling her she was going to be okay. murdering her was never in richie’s plan, and it still confused the hell out of her.

y/n’s eyes widened. “yes. i’m really sorry about what happened.”

“thank you.” the man gave her a small smile. “my name is wayne bailey, these are my children, quinn and ethan.” his two kids waved at her and she smiled in response. “do you think we could talk for a few minutes? i have something to say that might interest you.”

she reluctantly let them in, and wayne started telling her about what richie told them. how he noticed the tension between her and her sisters, how he could see the resentment in her eyes everytime she looked at sam, how sometimes they became murderous too.

“i don’t know what to tell you… what’s this all about? why are you here?”

“you see, y/n, your sister murdered my son. the light of my life, and i want her to pay. and by what richie told me, i think that’s what you want too.”

that captured her interest. “sam is the reason my dad—the only person i was close with in that damn family—left. so, whatever you have planned, count me in.”

“are you okay?” y/n asked ethan, who looked very deep in thought as they entered the dorms building. they had just came from a meeting at wayne’s house, and ethan had been dead silent the whole way back home.

“i just… aren’t you scared? that things won’t work out and we might end like every other ghostface?” ethan was very expressive when he talked, he talked with his whole body, especially his hands. the maniac hand movement showed y/n that he was very anxious about the whole thing.

during the time she had spent with the baileys, she had reached a conclusion—wayne and quinn were all for revenge, it was clear they were furious with sam. and ethan, although he truly loved his brother and hated sam for what she did, was in on the plan for the mere purpose of pleasing his dad.

richie had been the favorite, and ethan wanted so bad for his father to see him like he once saw his brother that he was willing to sacrifice his life for it. y/n understood that feeling of wanting to belong more than anyone else, which was why she had connected with ethan in a way she never thought would be possible.

they became each other’s comfort, each other’s safe place when things got overwhelming. it really sucked to fake being wary of him, to act like she was trying to keep her distance because—like the rest of the group—she didn’t trust the new members, when it reality she just wanted to wrap her arms around his frame.

“i won’t let anything happen to you. even if i have to take a knife to the heart to make sure you get out of this alive, i’ll do it. i can promise you that.”

ethan shook his head. “but that’s exactly what i’m worried about. something happening to you. the thought of getting out of this without you… fuck, that can’t happen, y/n.”

y/n had seen ethan being vulnerable, he let himself be like that around her, but this was the first time she had seen him cry. it was a sight she never wanted to see again.

she carefully brush his tears away. “okay, then we’ll have each other’s back, okay? please don’t cry, you’re killing me.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just really scared.” he hid his face on the crook of her neck and took deep breaths to stop the tears.

“don’t be sorry. never apologise for feeling, especially to me. it just makes me sad to see your pretty eyes with tears, but i get what you say.”

“i don’t want to go back to the group.” he pouted.

y/n chuckled then checked her smartwatch. “it’s late. chad might wonder where you are.”

ethan groaned. “i don’t care. i’ll tell him i was at study group. can i stay here for a bit?”

“you’re a little obsessed with my presence, landry.” she joked.

“and what if i am?” he said before letting out a nervous laugh.

y/n took him in. his strong arm was settled on the back of the couch, right next to her head. his temple was resting on his closed hand and he was staring intently at her with those killer deep brown eyes. he was so beautiful and she was so weak when it came to him. and fuck if his full lips didn’t look so inviting.

her index finger lifted and it was soon tracing the shape of his lips. they felt as soft as his cute curls. “then we’d be on the same page. because i’m a little obsessed with you.”

ethan’s arm left the back of the couch to end up around the back of y/n’s neck, pulling her close. her shaky hand found its way to his hard chest, right where she could feel the thunderous beats of his heart, which only became more erratic when their lips finally met.

“mmmh, wanted it so bad.” he said between kisses. “we’re not going back to being just friends right? because i can’t handle that.”

“are you out of your mind? no way. you’re mine and i get to kiss you whenever i want. well, whenever i can.”

“yours. fuck, that sounds so good.” he hummed contently. “it’s going to be so hard to hold back from you.”

“but then, when we finally get to release the tension, it’s going to be so good, don’t you think?” she smirked.

“you drive me insane.”

“right back at you, pretty boy. i don’t think you realize how powerful those puppy eyes of yours are.”

ethan’s blood rushed to his cheeks and y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. her chest felt like busting. she was finally happy. truly. the 6 foot two brunet boy lying beneath her was her one source of happiness, and she was not going to let anything take him away from her.

y/n stood in her ghostface costume in front of her sisters. she was practically bouncing on her feet, excited to reveal herself and see the look on the girls’ faces. ethan, who had already shown his face, had the biggest smile. y/n was so adorable he had to close his hands in a fist to fight the temptation of bringing her into his arms.

“ready for the last surprise?.” wayne asked.

“come on, babe.” ethan squeezed her waist and y/n took the mask off. her sisters stepped back in shock, faces tinted with hurt.

“how could you?” tara spat as tears fell from her eyes.

y/n rolled her eyes. “oh, cry me a river.”

“why would you do this? is this all because of him?” sam pointed her head at ethan. “what? you fell in love and he brainwashed you into becoming a killer?”

“do you think i’m stupid? of course not.” she scoffed. “i mean, i did fall in love with him, but that’s besides the point. they came to my door a few days after we moved.” and she told them how she came to work with the baileys. “i waited years, and now… i can finally make you two pay for how shitty you’d always made me feel.”

“what are you talking about? we’re your sisters, y/n.”

y/n glared at tara. “you have some fucking nerve. you’ve always made me feel neglected, until sam left town. we started to bond, but as soon as she was back… you forgot about me. how can you even say you’re my sister?” she yelled in anger. ethan took her hand in comfort. “and you?” she looked at sam. “you’re the reason my dad left, and i swear to god i’m going to show you exactly how badly that hurt.”

“you crazy bitch. you’re insane.” tara screamed at her.

ethan slashed her stomach in fury. “watch your fucking mouth when you talk to my girlfriend!”

“let’s just get over with this. y/n deserves a break.” quinn said.

the carpenters sure put up a fight, y/n was the one who got most of the wounds, but they had managed to succeed. wayne and quinn left to take care of gale and mindy while ethan stay behind taking care of his girlfriend.

“are you feeling alright?”

“don’t worry, eth. they’re bad, but not that bad. i’ll for sure live.” she reassured him. “we made it. i told you we would.”

“you did.” he laughed, and then hugged her tightly. “you scared me so much, though. i really thought i’d lost you when i saw you lying on the ground.”

“i could never leave you.” she brushed her nose against his and whispered against his lips, “i love you. thanks for walking into my life.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Eddeth

Day #30 - Fame & Fortune | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Fake!Eddeth, Steddie | Tags: Modern AU, Stop Trying to Make Eddeth Happen, It's Not Gonna Happen, Eddie & Gareth Are Best Friends, They Are Also: Idiot², Paparazzi, Social Media, Luddite Eddie, Steve Harrington Has To Clean Up All Their Messes, But What Else Is New?

"Did you know they're shipping us?" 

"Shipping us where? I hope they poke holes first," Eddie says, looking over at Gareth as he's scrolling on his phone. Gareth isn't listening to him, doesn't even laugh, which Eddie thinks is rude. That was a great dad joke.

He's picked up dad jokes from Steve, because Steve's corny as fuck. 

"Not like that," Gareth says, "like, shipping us together. We have a name and everything."

"Speak English," Eddie demands.

"You know, like Bennifer? But we're Eddeth," Gareth says.

"Who's Bennifer?"

"Which version?" Gareth asks, "Nevermind. You don't care. It's the ship name for Ben and Jennifer together. Do you never read the tabloids?"

"No. And I don't like that," Eddie says.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't. But now they're thinking about us. Together. Romantically. Enough that we have a mash-up of our names together."

Eddie barks out a laugh, "Well, alright. Whatever floats their boat."

Gareth sits there quietly for a bit, then says, "Maybe we can use this. Drum up some attention for the band. Get our name out there. Be a trending hashtag."

"I don't know what that means," Eddie says. 

"I know you don't. But we could, like, get in the zeitgeist."

"I hate everything you're choosing to be right now," Eddie says.

"Eddie. This could blow us up."

"Well, sure, in that case I'll tell Steve to just step aside."

"Not for real, dummy. Just for the paparazzi. Get our names talked about more. If they see more of the band, they may like the band more."

Eddie says he'll think about it, but he has no intention of doing any of that. They are exactly the right amount of famous. He can walk down the street without being harassed, but they live comfortably. He isn't about to upset that apple cart.

But it persists. There's buzz, apparently. At least according to Gareth, anyway.

So, at the next show, Eddie hops up on the drum riser and covers Bang Dem Sticks, while flirting with Gareth. It is possible to flirt platonically, and he does it very well. 

The next day, Gareth shows him all the chatter. The tiktoks. The commentary. And, well, maybe they could use this to their advantage. Just for a minute.

So, they walk down a dozen different sidewalks, and no paparazzi cameras pop out to snap pictures. Which is normal. He isn't sure why Gareth suddenly thought they'd make TMZ. 

But Gareth persists, and they even go to the Ivy, and still nothing. 

Even LAX is a fucking bust. 

That night, Eddie crawls into bed next to Steve, and sighs.

"What's the matter with you?" Steve asks, tipping down his iPad to look at Eddie.

"Nobody will take my picture with Gareth."

Steve laughs, "What the hell are you talking about?"

So, Eddie tells him their grand plan, and Steve is laughing his fucking ass off before Eddie can even finish. 

"Eddie. You have to call the paps if you want to do a pap walk. They aren't mind-readers. They don't just show up. Do you think all those pictures of celebs you see are actually candid? They definitely aren't."

Well, Eddie never looks at pap pictures. He has no fucking clue. He likes to fly under the radar.

"Really?" Eddie eventually asks. 

"Really. Do you want me to organize a pap walk for you?" Steve asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Well. Kinda," he says, "we're Eddeth."

"I know, honey. I've seen all the videos of you flirting with him on stage."

Eddie laughs, "You know that's not real, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not new here," Steve says, "I'll call it in tomorrow. You can be photographed to your heart's content."

And they are. As if it were magic, a handful of photogs are suddenly very aware of where they'll be on various outings. Eddie holds the door for Gareth. Hugs him on the street corner. They get an inordinate amount of coffees that Eddie doesn't even like.

The pictures run, and not a lot of people care, but they are being discussed in some circles. 

So, they keep doing it. Dinners and movies and trips through the airport where they're not really going anywhere. Only going through security, as if they were.

That's a brand new kind of torture. Who goes through TSA when they don't actually have to? 

More coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Eddie's never bought this many drinks in his life. 

And then the bottom falls out. 

Someone makes a video that goes extremely viral, explaining everyone in their Corroded Coffin circle. 

Including Steve. 

In fact, it's almost mourning the breakup of them. Steddie. They're Steddie, apparently, and now the fans, the real fans, those that actually have followed them, are upset. Pointing fingers, assigning blame. Some to Eddie, some to Gareth.

Fuck.

"Uh, we've got a problem," Eddie tells Steve, and Steve just shakes his head, already aware of the situation.

"Do we have to do a pap walk now?" Eddie asks, worrying his hands together. 

He never did anything romantic with Gareth. It can all be explained away, swept under the rug. 

He thinks.

He hopes.

"I really don't want to," Steve says, and that's that. They won't.

Now, Eddie's either a cheater in the eyes of their actual fans, or they think Steve's gone. 

Instead, Gareth does a couple pap walks with his girlfriend, and she's branded a beard, immediately. They really fucked this up, big time. 

"We'll go to dinner. The four of us," Steve says, "I'll call it in."

And Eddie kisses his cheek, over and over.

Just to be safe, Steve has their publicist send TMZ a copy of their marriage certificate, and some boilerplate that Eddie and Gareth are just best friends, and always have been.

As they settle into the booth at the restaurant, pictures still being taken, Steve asks, "Are we done trying to be tabloid fodder? Have we learned our lesson?"

"Yes, Steve," Eddie and Gareth both say in unison.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇