#you can't hustle anyone

[natjennie]

what's weird about the fantasy high drama is that like. it seems to me like people forget d&d is primarily a) a game you play with your friends and also b) luck based.

I mean it's fine to say that "nothing felt like a challenge" and "they just dominated everything and there weren't any stakes" but like. it's not as if they weren't up against huge threats. they lost the mall fight. the last stand was an onslaught of enemies. they fought a dozen dragons from an airship. the fights were hard. they're just really good. they've had very good dice luck in general this season and are all very high level and highly specialized. fig is gonna beat deception and performance checks. adaine's gonna figure out the arcana. riz is gonna succeed investigations. like. for some reason their strategical competence and wisely picked abilities are. a downside? a disappointment?

the thing about d&d that you need to remember is it's first and foremost a game. it's mostly random and it takes you down weird paths and you're playing to have fun with your friends. the dice are literally telling the story that it's their time, it's their year. they've struggled enough. they've trained enough. they're good at what they do. and in my post about the academic/domestic/personal stressors being the focus, d&d doesn't have any other system to work them out than rolling different skills. that's what d&d is. brennan set specific challenge levels for different tasks and the players strategized to prioritize which abilities they were strongest in. the challenges were there. and the players rose to them. they were both smart in their delegation of responsibilities and lucky with their dice rolls. of which, both are foundations of d&d.

don't mistake them being good players and getting lucky with there being no hardship. just because they smashed through the wall, that doesn't mean the wall wasn't strong. they were just stronger.

[birb--birb]

The Pale Elf

3D print sculpted by Bulkamancer, printed in Siraya Tech grey UV Resin on my Elegoo Mars 2, and hand-painted by me! I cannot be more pleased with how he turned out 🥰

Detailed shots under the cut

Had to share all these gorgeous details, like the TEXTURES on this models are just gorgeous! All that filigree and bead detailing is raised which made painting it much easier, but still very tedious (so worth the results though). This was my first time painting a face bigger than tabletop mini scale, and boy was I intimidated. Had some friends point me to ball-jointed doll makers and learned about detailing faces with chalk pastels, so I used pastels to give his cheeks some colour, blush the tips of his ears, and make the shadows under his eyes. I could go back and add more colour/texture to his hair but I think its best if I leave it, lest I play with it too much and end up ruining things. I have to keep reminding myself that just cause I can see things in macro lens photos, doesn't mean I'm actually able to go correct those things 😅

Regardless, I'm so so happy with how he turned out, and its crazy that I can look at this and go "me!!! I PAINTED THAT!! ME!!!", and now I have a stunning model of everyones favourite lil rat bastard (affectionate) vampire mans💕

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[citrustan]

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd be available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What certainly doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

But that thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor-sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

Upon spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work again?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

[mellowmadds]

Casual Study Dates | Peter Parker

(MCU) Peter Parker/Fem Stark Reader

Warnings - slightly suggestive

Summary - Avenger’s compound a usually busy place hustling with activity seems unusually quiet for the day. leaving y/n and Peter in a sticky situation (pun intended)

Word Count: 1,237

°°••....••°°

Avenger’s Compound, a place that’s usually bustling with activities and combat training sometime’s has quiet days like this where super-powered humans who have insanely intense hearing can hear a pin drop from across campus. For you though being one of the youngest on the team you hated those days because it seemed as if everybody always wanted to see what you were up to. You weren’t necessarily an avenger but you were extremely smart and helped out around the lab and worked on some Stark Industries projects with your dad every once and a while. And that’s how you met Peter Parker and during those first two years of awkward conversations and study dates you two seemed to find some comfort in all that awkwardness.

“Are you nervous about MIT sending out their decisions soon?” Peter asked while getting comfortable on your bed while staring out at the beautiful city view.

“Why would I be nervous Peter? Most of my family are MIT Alumni.” You said a bit cocky if you really think about it.

“I- know it’s just I figured maybe you’d be experiencing the same nerves I was. It was a stupid question nevermind sorry” Peter stuttered out.

“You don’t have to be sorry Peter and you definitely don’t have to worry my dad put in a good word about you. You’re one hundred percent getting into MIT” You told him confidently.

You knew Peter was an anxious person and you’d do anything to take his nerves away.

“Now are we going to keep stressing about MIT or are we going to figure out these formulas that Bruce gave us to solve?” You asked while holding up the stack of papers labeled ‘Top Secret Formulas’.

Peter nodded his head yes while lifting his body off your bed to instead sit on the edge of the bed closer to your desk where all of your work was scattered across your laptop.

“But first I need to put some music on or else I won’t be able to focus” You said before sliding the miscellaneous papers off your laptop.

“That’s the Stark in you talking, how can you focus better with music blasting in your ears?” Peter asked while laughing.

“I guess you are right, that is a classic trait of my dads. But it just helps me focus better. I don't know, I can't explain it.” You turned on your playlist before flipping to the first page of the stack of formulas Bruce assigned you to solve.

Your speaker was loud but who cares it’s not like anyone cared or was listening everyone was off doing their own things. The first few songs were upbeat and fun but the farther you got into your playlist the more guilty pleasure songs started playing, but Peter didn’t mind he was blocking out the music anyways so he could focus better on the formulas in front of him. What you didn’t know was that Steve and Nat were standing outside your room listening.

“Knee deep where? doing what?” Steve said worriedly looking over at Nat.

“It’s just a song Steve stop being so old-school” Nat smirked back at him.

“But Peter’s in there with her, what if they aren’t actually studying?” Steve asked as any worried uncle would.

“The song is talking about having relations in the bathroom during dinner time, that’s not appropriate Nat” Steve said firmly not accepting any excuse now.

Nat wasn’t interested in continuing this conversation any further and started walking toward the living quarters where there sat Bucky, Clint, Bruce and of course Tony.

“What’s got you so tense Cap? Your boyfriends right here if you have to relieve some tension” Tony laughed making fun of Steve and Bucky’s unusual bromance.

“I think you should worry more about what your daughter and Peter are doing upstairs” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“What? What are you talking about Cap? His vigilant ass better not be corrupting my innocent perfect daughter” Tony angrily stated as his face turned a shade of red nobody expected.

“They are listening to a song about having relations in the car and bathroom” Steve said pointing upstairs to your room.

“And you didn’t shut it down the moment you heard that? What kind of uncle are you?” Tony asked running up the stairs to take a listen for himself.

“Oh my gosh the lyrics are filthy but it sounds so calming, how does an artist achieve that?” Tony muttered under his breath before harshly knocking on your bedroom door and bursting in unannounced.

“What’s going on here?” Tony yelled loudly only to be met with a view of you sitting at your desk and Peter sitting on your bed leaning against the headboard with a textbook and stack of papers sitting on his lap.

“What dad? We are busy figuring out the formulas Bruce gave us. Why the hell is everyone crowding outside my room?” You asked, pointing towards Steve, Bucky, Nat, Clint and Bruce all huddling in a circle outside your bedroom door.

“Well we heard the song you guys were listening to and were a bit concerned. You guys aren’t acting on those lyrics are you? You guys better not be under my roof” Tony questioned with a look of disgust on his face.

“What the hell are you going on about dad?” You asked looking over at Peter who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Are you guys having sexual relations?” Tony asked in disgust as your playlist suddenly skipped to the next song which would make your case even worse.

“Head so good, she's an honor roll she’ll ride your what like a carnival?” Tony repeated the lyrics.

“I am on the honor roll though, so it’s not entirely a lie” You replied back smirking like a smartass.

“This is not a laughing matter young lady, we are talking about something serious here, answer my question right now” Tony stated with a straight face not joking around anymore.

“Yeah we are and what about it?” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n not in front of everybody” Peter said shyly.

“Who cares Peter they were going to find out sooner or later anyways, might as well just tell them now” You said looking back at everyone’s shocked faces. As you looked past your father behind him stood Bucky handing Clint a ten dollar bill.

“You guys had a bet going on about us?” Peter asked, looking back and forth between them but also keeping one eye on Tony just in case he might try to kill him.

“This conversation is not over and from now on this door stays open” Tony said sternly ignoring all the giggles and snarky remarks coming from his fellow avengers. Your playlist then starts playing a different song which lightens up the mood just a little.

“This one has a dance to go along with it, watch H-O-T-T-O-G-O it’s like the YMCA'' You said while doing the dance.

“I like doing the YMCA” Steve said, smiling now entering your room.

“Of course you do because you're ancient” Peter said jokingly.

As you can expect you didn’t think you’d be ending your day teaching Steve Rogers the Hot To Go dance however you wouldn’t trade the quiet days at the compound for anything because at the end of the day you’re just one big family and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[murdrdocs]

thinking about patrick getting hired by some wealthy rich man to teach his daughter tennis. she's in her 20s and she can't help but be attracted to him and the same goes for him like ... idk

public sex; oral (f receiving); coach zweig once more; MDNI 18+ w/ PATRICK ZWEIG

for the first couple of sessions, it's blatantly obvious that you don't want to be here.

patrick sees it in the way you zone out every few seconds. the way you have absolutely no hustle when you're hitting. the way you're more focused on your chipped nail polish than on his instructions. really, if the check wasn't as big as it is, then patrick wouldn't want to be here either. but the check for one session is enough to keep him going for three months and patrick wants to keep the money flowing. so he's here, and he cares just enough, and he really would prefer it if you cared too.

he meets you on even ground in the middle of the second lesson. you're drinking from an expensive water bottle while patrick drinks from a plastic one. your skin has a light sheen of sweat from it, but not nearly enough in patrick's opinion. he's sure the sweat is from the sun and not your effort.

he kicks the front of your sneakers with his.

"what's your deal?"

you're looking up at him, squinting even though the brim of your visor shields your eyes from the sun. "my deal?"

patrick nods. "you clearly don't wanna be here. so why are you?"

it takes you a second. your jaw ticks as if you're a smoker, or maybe you're used to chewing gum. patrick usually keeps both with him, and he would've offered either to you if you weren't on a court in your backyard.

eventually, you respond. "i agreed to come home for the summer and i could either sit on the board with my father, or play tennis. anything to keep me from lounging around all day."

a small, knowing smile came to patrick's lips. he glanced behind you at the shape of your house. standing here, patrick sees you. he understands you. he, too, learned tennis to escape the future set up by his father. while yours is on a smaller scale, and something more temporary, he still understands.

he caps his water bottle and places it on the bench. "if you put in a little effort, tennis can be fun."

you snicker and place your water bottle next to his, humming noncommittally.

"i'll believe it when i see it."

it isn't long until patrick starts to see effort put into your movements during your sessions. instead of letting the ball fly past you, you're attempting to run for it, sometimes even succeeding. your skin shines with more than a light sweat. you're actually out of breath when you attempt to respond to patrick mid session.

it's nice to see you putting in work. it's attractive when you're bent over with your hands on your knees, heaving for air. it's alluring when you pout at patrick, a plea for a break already on your emphasized lips.

he doesn't know if your sudden enthusiasm is of your own doing, or from the way patrick rewards you. because no matter how much he pushed his desire down, no matter how often he tried to hide it in the name of professionalism, he still found himself drawn to you. glances up your skirt turned to his head up there. fleeting touches to your lower back turned to his rough hands gripping that very area as he took you from behind. watching the sun beat sweat down onto your skin had a completely different meaning when he fucked you on the court, both of you tucked away on the bench and barely hidden away from anyone—notably your father—who could come outside.

it's obvious that you wanted him, too, your sudden need to impress him on the courts whenever he rewarded you with kisses was a testament.

he asks you one day when he'd lightly smacked your ass with his racket when your session was over. "is tennis fun yet?" came his question, and you smiled at him, throwing a hand over your eye to shield your face from the sun. the shadows cast onto your face and your clavicle did nothing to hide the obvious hickey patrick gave you a few days ago and he found his eyes drawn there when you answered.

"dunno. maybe i need a few more sessions."

[oldsoul007]

forbidden desires

dr. charlie mayhew x reader

summary: you’re fathers doctor is drawn to you and you can’t deny how drain you are to him

Dr. Charlie Mayhew was a man of precision and control, his life meticulously ordered within the sterile walls of the hospital. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, a storm brewed. His days were filled with the monotony of medical routines until y/n entered his world. She was the daughter of one of his patients, a beacon of light in the dark corridors of the hospital.

Y/ns visits were frequent, her presence a stark contrast to the clinical coldness that surrounded them. There was an intensity in her eyes that drew Charlie in, a forbidden allure that he couldn't resist. Their interactions were charged with an undercurrent of tension, each glance and touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

One evening, as the hospital quieted, Charlie found himself unable to resist the pull any longer. He sought her out, finding her in the dimly lit garden where shadows danced around them. The air was thick with unspoken desires as he approached her.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with longing. "I can't keep pretending this isn't happening."

She turned to him, her eyes dark and filled with a hunger that mirrored his own. "I've felt it too, Charlie. This... whatever it is between us, it's like a dark force pulling us together."

Their meetings grew more clandestine, each encounter more intense than the last. They found solace in the secrecy, their affair a dangerous dance that teetered on the edge of discovery. The thrill of the forbidden only heightened their passion, each stolen moment a testament to the depths of their desire.

One night, in the shadows of the hospital's deserted wing, Charlie pulled y/n into a hidden alcove. Their breaths mingled, the air electric with anticipation. "This is madness," he murmured against her lips. "But I can't stop."

Y/n fingers tangled in his hair, her voice a breathless whisper. "Then don't. Let the madness consume us."

Our kiss was fierce, a collision of need and desperation. In the darkness, we surrendered to the forbidden, our affair a tempest of passion and peril. We knew the risks, the potential for ruin, but in each other's arms, we found a twisted kind of salvation.

As our relationship deepened, the lines between right and wrong blurred, leaving us both ensnared in a web of dark romance. The hospital became our secret sanctuary, a place where our forbidden love could thrive in the shadows, unseen and unchallenged.

The hospital was eerily quiet one night, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by a haunting stillness. Charlie had been on edge all day, the anticipation of seeing y/n again gnawing at him. He knew it was dangerous, that anyone could walk in at any moment, but the risk only fueled his desire.

He found me in an empty room, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. I was waiting for him, my eyes filled with the same longing that burned within him. Without a word, he closed the door behind him and crossed the room in a few quick strides.

Our lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, years of restraint and propriety melting away in an instant. Charlie's hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, needing to feel every inch of me against him. I responded with equal fervor, my fingers threading through his hair as I pressed myself against him.

The room seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the two of us lost in our passion. Charlie's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the intensity of our embrace. He backed me up against the wall, his lips never leaving mine, our kiss deepening with each passing second.

I moaned softly against his mouth, my hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him even closer. The sound drove Charlie wild, his desire for me growing with every touch, every gasp. He trailed kisses down my neck, savoring the taste of my skin, the way I shivered under his touch.

"Charlie," I whispered, my voice a mix of need and urgency. "We shouldn't... but I can't stop."

"Neither can I," he murmured against my skin. "I need you, y/n. I need you now."

Our kisses grew more frantic, our hands exploring, claiming. The world outside that room ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us, caught in the throes of our forbidden passion. It was reckless, it was dangerous, but in that moment, it was everything.

Charlie’s hands moved to his tie, loosening it with a sense of urgency. He tossed it aside, his focus solely on me. Our kisses grew more heated, our breaths mingling in the confined space. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, the door burst open.

A nurse rushed in, her face pale and eyes wide with alarm. "Dr. Mayhew! It's d/n ! We need you right now!"

The words hit them like a splash of cold water. I pulled away, my heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "What happened?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

The nurse didn't waste any time. "He's taken a turn for the worse. We need you in his room immediately."

Charlie and I exchanged a look, our moment shattered. Without another word, we hurried out of the room, our passionate encounter forgotten in the face of the urgent news about my dad.

We rushed down the hallway, the urgency of the nurse's words propelling us forward. When we reached my dad's room, they found him sitting up in bed, looking slightly confused but otherwise fine.

The nurse, now catching her breath, quickly checked the monitors and then turned to me with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, it looks like it was a false alarm. His vitals are stable, and there's no immediate concern."

I let out a sigh of relief, my heart still pounding from the scare. I glanced at Charlie, who gave me a reassuring nod. The tension that had built up during our passionate moment shifted into a shared sense of relief and gratitude.

I approached my dad, taking his hand gently. "I'm glad you're okay, Dad," I said softly.

Charlie stood back, giving them a moment, but his eyes never left y/n. The intensity of their earlier encounter lingered in the air, a reminder of the deep connection they shared, even in the face of unexpected interruptions.

After making sure my dad was comfortable and everything was truly okay, we stepped out into the hallway. The adrenaline was still coursing through our veins, but now it was mixed with a sense of relief.

I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breath. "That was close," I said, a small laugh escaping my lips. "We almost got caught."

Charlie chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that was definitely a close call. I don't think my heart has ever raced that fast."

I looked at him, my eyes softening. "Thank you for being here, Charlie. I don't know what I would have done without you."

He stepped closer, his expression serious but tender. "You don't have to thank me, y/n. I'm here for you, always."

We stood there for a moment, the intensity of our earlier moment still lingering between them. Despite the scare, it was clear that our connection had only grown stronger through the shared experience.

Dr. Charlie had always been passionate about his work, but lately, the stress had been getting to him especially with him and y/n’s affair. His anger issues were starting to surface more frequently, and y/n could see the change in him. One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Charlie's frustration boiled over.

"Why can't anything just go right?" he snapped, slamming a stack of papers onto his desk. I watched him, my heart aching for him but also feeling a pang of fear.

"Charlie, you need to calm down," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "This isn't like you."

He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. "You don't understand, y/n. The pressure is unbearable, and then there's you... I can't stop thinking about you, and it's fucking driving me insane!"

I felt a surge of fear and frustration. "Charlie, you're scaring me. I care about you, but you can't keep taking your anger out on me. It's not fair."

Charlie took a step back, his expression softening as he realized the impact of his words. "I'm sorry, y/n. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just... everything feels like it's falling apart, and I don't know how to handle it."

I bit back my own tears, my voice firm. "I understand you're stressed, but you need to find a way to deal with it without lashing out. We both have our struggles, and we need to support each other, not tear each other down."

Charlie nodded, the fire in his eyes dimming. "You're right. I need to get a grip on my anger, for both our sakes. I'm sorry, y/n. I'll do better."

We stood there, the tension slowly easing as we faced the reality of our situation. It was clear that our relationship was a source of both strength and stress, and we would need to navigate it carefully if we were to find any semblance of peace.

As Charlie stood there, the weight of his apology hanging in the air, I took a hesitant step forward. The tension between us was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine remorse.

"Charlie," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I know you're trying. I can see it."

Before I could say anything else, Charlie closed the distance between us, his hands gently cupping my face. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, all the anger, fear, and confusion seemed to melt away. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a heated kiss.

I responded instantly, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pressed myself against him. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions we had been holding back. Charlie's hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer as he backed me up against his desk.

Papers scattered to the floor as we continued to kiss, our passion taking over. Charlie lifted me onto the desk, his lips never leaving mine. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of us, lost in the moment.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless. Charlie rested his forehead against mine, his hands still holding mine close. "I don't ever want to lose you," he murmured, his voice filled with raw emotion.

I smiled softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You won't," I promised. "We'll figure this out together."

In that moment, we both knew that despite the challenges ahead, our connection was stronger than ever.

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 5 - Corruption - LH44

Lewis Hamilton X Reader

I am more than willing to write a part 2 to this one shot as there was no sex in this one. I felt to keep the realism of the story it didn't feel right for the character to lose her virginity the same night she had her first kiss.

TW - Virgin, smut, oral (male and female receiving), NO ACTUAL SEX

WC - 3100+

Y/N POV

August 2024

Walking through the paddock I can't help but speed my way toward the Mercedes Hospitality knowing as soon as I got in there, there would be no more eyes on me. I mean I know realistically no one gives a fuck who I am but with all the hustle and bustle around me I can't help but feel anxious.

Once I am in the comfort of a quiet room in the hospitality I pull out my laptop and get right to work knowing I didn't have much time before I would need to be in the garage to take pictures for the official Mercedes accounts.

Being one of the main photographers for Mercedes definitely has its perks but being as quiet as I am it has been hard making friends with people.

As I am editing a photo of Kimi and George for Instagram I hear a soft knock on the door.

"Um, come in?" I stutter a little making it sound more like a question than a statement. When the door opens slowly I see Lewis's head peek in to see who was occupying one of the only empty meeting rooms in the whole hospitality.

"Oh hi Y/N," I hear Lewis say softly before he comes into the room and closes the door.

"Hi, Lew. How are you doing today?" I ask softly while still looking at my computer too intimidated to make eye contact with Lewis.

"I'm good, just trying to get away from all of the noise," Lewis tells me making me finally look up and nod my head softly.

"I get that," I tell Lewis softly finally closing my laptop to give him my full attention.

"What are you working on today?" Lewis asks me showing a real interest in my work.

"I'm actually working on more promotional photos for Kimi and George for next season," I tell Lewis making him smile.

"I've been working for Mercedes for the past 3 years and I'm gonna be completely honest it feels strange editing photos for the team without you in them," I tell Lewis for whatever reason. This makes him chuckle a little.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're doing what is best for your career," I double down in slight embarrassment hoping I didn't offend Lewis.

"I know what you mean. I don't think anyone even myself expected it," Lewis tells me in a reassuring voice to make sure I knew I didn't offend him in any way.

"I have a hard time grasping that you have worked for Mercedes for 3 years know and I feel like I barely know anything about you," Lewis tells me honestly making me smile a little.

"I don't think anyone really knows anything about me if I'm being completely honest," I tell him.

"Well tell me about yourself then," Lewis says with a smile on his face.

"Well, what do you want to know?" I ask back in a softer tone than I intended.

"Whatever you want," Lewis tells me leaving the ball in my court. I can feel my anxiety start to grow slightly from the pressure of having to tell him about myself.

"Well, I'm from Brisbane and grew up with 2 older brothers and a little sister. I always loved taking pictures when I was really little, so it makes sense that I went on to become a photographer. I moved out on my own only a year ago when my parents retired and decided to sell our house and travel the world forcing me to finally leave the nest. I always grew up really quiet which made it really hard to get through school but eventually I made a core group of friends. I'm so sorry I'm rambling," I finally realize I'm word-vomiting to Lewis.

"No I enjoy listening to you talk. Keep going if you'd like," Lewis tells me clearly interested in what I have to say.

"Well then, my dad was always into Formula 1 and even put my little brothers into karting but they both were shit and it was too expensive to get them the proper training and equipment to help them be good. I ended up being the only one into racing like him so we would go to the Australian Grand Prix together every year. That was when I knew I was gonna be a Formula 1 photographer someday. You were actually the first driver I ever met. I was like 13 and this awkward quiet kid and my dad had surprised me with paddock passes. You signed the hat I was wearing and just all around really sweet. You ended up winning that year and I was so excited," I tell him some more looking up to realize Lewis is smiling and clearly listening to every word I was saying.

"Oh wow, I knew you were young I didn't realize how young you were. I'm assuming that was 2015?" Lewis's comments make me nod and laugh a little.

"Ya I turned 22 back a few months ago," I comment softly which has him nodding his head.

"Tell me more, I haven't heard you talk this much and if I'm being honest I love your voice," Lewis tells me making my cheeks grow red in a blush. I don't know the last time someone had complimented me.

"Well, when I went to Uni everyone tried to convince me to pick a more reliable career, but I knew what I wanted. As soon as I graduated I started applying to every position in photography F1 could offer and basically, now I'm here. Uh, I've never had my first kiss, matter a fact I've never even had a boy frie-," I finally cut myself off realizing I was starting to anxiously ramble about the most embarrassing aspect of my life.

When I look up at Lewis in sheer embarrassment I notice a look in his eyes that I had never seen before. It wasn't a bad thing but it made my body heat up in a way I had never felt before.

PRESENT TIME

"Y/n can I kiss you," Lewis asks softly. We are standing in my small apartment after another one of the many dates we have been going since the day in the meeting room. After I embarrassingly spilled my guts about never being in a relationship Lewis matched my energy by admitting he had been in a relationship since the one he got out of in 2015.

A few weeks after that conversation and many more after he finally asked me out on a date. I was worried given our drastic age difference however over time I realized it wasn't a problem if we didn't make it one.

"Yes," I finally whisper out before feeling Lewis's lips graze mine softly. When he finally places his lips on mine and starts to kiss me I instantly start kissing back, not entirely confident in my ability but I knew that whatever I was doing felt good. I could feel the start of a heat rising in me, one I only felt when I was with Lewis but this time it was stronger that I had ever felt before.

This being my first kiss I lose my breath fairly quickly so I'm pulling back gasping in softly. When I make eye contact with Lewis I notice the look he gave me back in the office.

"Was I okay?" I ask nervously not entirely confident in my previous actions.

"Baby, it was perfect. But just to be sure should we try again?" Lewis asks softly making me laugh a little at how cheesy he was being. Instead of using my words I pull Lewis closer by his neck and crashing my lips against his.

This time when I part my lips slightly I feel Lewis slip his tongue into my mouth making me instantly gasp at the feeling before following suit and allowing my tongue to tangle with his. In the midst of out make out session I feel Lewis pick me up and placing my thighs on either side of his waist and moving us towards my room.

When we get into my room he softly lays me on my mattress.

"Is this all you want tonight?" Lewis asks me before he moves any further.

"No, Lew I need something," I tell him softly.

"Pretty girl, what do you need?" Lewis asks me back while looking into my eyes.

"I don't know how to explain it. I've never felt like this before," I tell him honestly. While I was completely innocent and had never even masturbated I can only assume this is what it feels like to be turned on but I'm far too embarrassed to admit it.

"I think you do know what you need," Lewis tells me urging me to be honest with him. I close my eyes refusing to look at him before I say, "I need you to touch me."

"Are you sure?" Lewis asks softly which has me opening my eyes and making eye contact with him.

"If you're sure," I tell him not wanting him to feel the need to do something just becaus I wanted something.

"No, this is about you. Are you ready?" Lewis says repeating himself but using a more stern voice and vocab.

"Yes," I tell him firmly when I get a sudden rush of confidence. I instantly feel Lewis's hands graze my sides slowly pulling my top up exposing the lacey white bra I had worn today. I lift my body slightly to allow Lewis to pull my shirt completely off. Once it is completely off Lewis immediately brings his hands down to my tits to grip them through my bra.

"Fuck Lew," I moan out the second I feel Lewis's hands.

Lewis starts kissing down my neck making his way to my covered tits but they didn't stay covered for long because Lewis was helping me sit up slightly to unclip and pull off my bra. Once I'm free from my bra Lewis brings his lips back down to mine where he slowly lays me back down where he starts his trail of kisses again.

When he reaches my tits he almost instantly takes one of my nipples into his mouth while playing with the other.

"Lewis," I whine out dragging his name slightly from the pleasure. I feel Lewis slightly smile against me before moving to the other tit to suck my other nipple into his warm mouth.

While he is still pleasuring my tits I feel him move his hands down to the jeans I was wearing where I could feel Lewis starting to unbutton them before slowly pulling them down with my already soaked panties. Once my jeans are fully off Lewis slowly trails his kisses from my tits down my stomach.

"Lewis, hurry up," I tell him while getting impatient with him.

"patience, pretty girl," Lewis tells me still not going where I want him the most.

I start to feel Lewis, ghost kisses all over my thighs making me gasps out in shock.

"Please," I whine out to Lewis growing more impatient by the second.

Lewis finally brought his mouth to my pussy taking a long strip from my virgin hole to my aching clit.

"Fuck, Lew," I gasp out the second his tongue grazes my clit.

While Lewis was keeping a steady pace he was eating me out like it was the last meal he was ever going to eat.

"I think- fuck Lewis, something's happening," I stutter out when I feel an overwhelming pleasure I had never once felt before. My words only spurred Lewis's movements to pick up pace bringing me closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," I moan out the second my body was thrown over the edge for the first time ever. Lewis continued to eat me out to help me ride out my orgasm that felt like it was going to last forever.

When I finally come down from the intensity of my orgasm, my legs still shaking from the intense pleasure Lewis lays down next to me pulling me into in chest.

"Thank you," I whisper out to Lewis not really sure how to have pillow talk. Lewis just chuckles a little before placing a kiss on my forehead.

When I shift around a little I feel something poking my side. When I reached down to see what it was it had Lewis gasping at the touch. When it finally registered in my brain what I was touching I make eye contact with Lewis while still rubbing him threw his jeans.

"Y/N if you keep doing that I'll cum in my pants," Lewis gasps out through a light laugh.

"Then take your pants off," I finally gather enough courage to take the lead knowing if I did something wrong Lewis wouldn't judge me.

"This was about you tonight," Lewis tells me while his breathing began to grow labored signifying he was growing closer to cumming. When I realize he wasn't going to help me help him out I sit up all the way before climbing on top of Lewis and sitting on his legs so I can still unbotton his pants and pull his hard cock out of the jeans that had grown to be comfortably tight. at some point in the night Lewis had lost his shirt, making it easy to place soft kisses all over his chest.

Once I finally get Lewis's hard cock out of his jeans I look up to Lewis and ask, "I wanna make you feel good, please."

"Fuck, whatever your comfortable with, pretty girl," Lewis finally says giving me full permission to explore his cock and body.

I take my time exploring Lewis's body with my mouth. Spotting tattoos I had never seen before, which I softly traced with my finger before making my way down to his cock which was starting to leak precum with how hard he was.

I slowly start jerking his cock off while holding eye contact with Lewis. I can see how Lewis's breathing was starting to pick up again before his eyes rolled back signifying he was experiencing pure pleasure. When I realize his eyes were going to stay closed I decided to shock the both of us by leaning down and pulling the tip of his cock into my mouth.

The second my tongue started teasing his tip Lewis's eyes flew open realizing it was no longer my hands that were touching him.

"Y/N what are you doing," Lewis gasps out when I start slowly taking him further in my mouth trying to test the waters. Instead of answering him, I start bobbing my head trying to bring him more pleasure.

"Fuck, so good baby," Lewis moans out which only encourages me to go faster, which resulted in me going a bit too fast and hitting my gag reflex making me gag quite hard around Lewis's cock which instantly had Lewis gathering my hair in his hands and pulling me off.

"You've got to take it a little slower, pretty girl. This isn't some kind of race," Lewis tells me while I'm still gasping lightly for some air while allowing a couple tears to fall.

"I wanna make you feel good, besides, I kinda liked it," I admit making my cheeks heat up. I can't believe I just admitted to enjoying it when choked myself on Lewis's cock.

"You liked it huh?" Lewis teased me slightly making my cheeks grow more red.

Instead of answering him I went back to work with my mouth this time being a little less cautious with my movements which resulted in me occasionally gagging around his cock.

"Who knew my pretty girl was such a dirty slut," Lewis moaned out making me moan out around his cock from the degrading word.

"You like being called a slut don't you?" Lewis questioned which had me nodding my head the best I could with my mouth still full of his cock.

It doesn't take long before Lewis is grasping my hair to try and pull me off his cock.

"Baby, if you keep doing that I'm gonna cum in your mouth," Lewis gasped out while still trying to pull me off but instead of pulling back I pushed my head down as far as I could making me gag and choke a bit around his cock. This sent Lewis over the edge making him cum straight down my throat. He's still cumming when I pull back slightly to bob my head a little to help him ride his orgasm out the same way he had done to me.

When Lewis was done cumming I pulled off his cock with some of his cum still in my mouth.

"You can spit it baby," Lewis tells me softly but instead of listening I swallowed down every last drop and even licked the little bead of cum that was still left on the tip of his dick.

"What the fuck," Lewis gasps at how the girl who never even kissed a boy an hour ago was now licking his cock clean.

"Was I okay Lew?" I finally ask once we are cuddled up comfortably.

"Are you sure that was your first time?" Lewis joked clearly having enjoyed himself.

"Ya, I liked it though. I wanna do it again and again. I liked when yo called me the dirty name too," I tell him too embarrassed to say it myself.

"I don't remember what I said," Lewis says clearly wanting the dirty words to slip past my lips.

"I- uh, well you called me a slut," I whisper out which makes me realize how insane I was for enjoying such a term.

"Ya? Do you wanna be my little slut pretty girl?" Lewis asked softly making my thighs clench together. I just nod my head too embarrassed to say it again.

"No, I want words. Who are you?" Lewis said a bit sterner than he had ever talked to me before.

"I'm your dirty slut, Lew," I tell him while making direct eye contact with him. While I was embarrassed to say it out loud I couldn't help but bask in the pleasure it was to say that. I enjoyed being a little slut for Lewis and while I was still a virgin I couldn't help but be excited to explore everything more with Lewis.

"Get some rest pretty girl with a mouth and pussy as good as yours I will be going in for seconds before the clock strikes midnight," Lewis tells me making me cuddle further into his side and falling into a light sleep. Lewis kept his promise, by morning time he had managed to make me cum a dozen more times with just his mouth and fingers.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

[agatharkn3ss]

Lilia Calderu is extremely important (Spoilers)

Lilia says in ep.5 that she "reads people" and she "reads time". But she is much more than that, she just doesn't know it yet.

I believe Lilia Calderu is Fate itself - or Fate of this coven at least.

You can see the background of Patti's end credit is the tarot table. This is going to be her air trial in episode 7. But do you also see the word "Fate"? Circled in red?

Now... Doesn't that remind you of something? Like maybe... "Circle sewn with Fate"?

Oh and what else does Lilia do? That's right, her side hustle "Lilia's Leggings"! The motif of sewing around Lilia is repeated throughout episode 2 - she has a sewing machine in her kitchen/bedroom and when she starts singing the ballad, there are big thread spools in her background. Could they be any more obvious?

Without Lilia, there would be no coven. She is the one who sends the list of names to her past self so that they can form their circle.

I am convinced she will do this as part of her trial. She will be doing a tarot reading and sending messages to the past events, trying to find the right time - just as she uncovers her tarot cards - and yes, that's including the broken line "Alice don't try to save Agatha".

If you want to know more about how I think those messages will be send, I have described the detail in this post.

The tarot cards that have been used so far give us insights into the story - not just because of their tarot meanings, but also because the images on those cards correspond exactly to the moments when Lilia said their names out loud.

These are the scenes as seen through Fate's eyes.

Three of Pentacles has the coven singing the Ballad. Three of Swords is the moment before Teen is healed - they are in the woods, on the purple Road and Lilia sees Agatha's heart being broken three-fold (because of Rio, Nicky and now Teen). High Priestess is exactly how Lilia first met Jen - with the rays coming out of the painting behind her. And finally, the Knight of Wands is standing in exactly the same stance as Alice was when she saved Agatha.

The rest of the cards, although not named in the show yet, will likely make appearance in her trial. Queen of Cups bears striking resemblance to young Lilia. Death is holding a dagger and a black heart, and is surrounded by flowers... And finally, there is the Tower card. Which is going to be about the her tarot (Air) trial.

You can read more about my predictions on how her episode 7 trial will go in this post.

But essentially, the members of the coven will be dressed up as the evil witches from the pop culture, while Lilia will be in white - like Glinda the Good Witch. So it looks like Lilia will need to confront those negative stereotypes yet again. She will also understand, that although she predicted tragedies in the past, she actually has the power to predict something good, even control it.

There will be swords sticking out of the ceiling and falling down to the floor - probably serving as a time reminder. You can see those swords in the poster above too. There is another poster - that resembling the cover of "The Crucible" - a play about the Salem witch trials. Again, we see the "thread" elements clearly here.

Unfortunately, we know that Salem Seven manage to get inside the trial too. I think once Lilia completes her task to finish the tarot reading and deliver the list to the past, she will then flip the sand timer - another reminder that she can, in fact, control time. Unfortunately, flipping the timer will also mean that the whole tower room they are in, will also flip upside down. We see Lilia and Salem Seven floating up. Sadly, I think that means that they will end up impaled on those swords? We can't see anyone else from the coven.

The Tower card seems to suggest people floating, but there is also a blue crown being toppled off the top. I wonder what that means for Billy.

That last shot breaks my heart!

But to finish on a different note, there is even more to Lilia Calderu.

You see, every tarot card has this little squiggle in the corner. Looks familiar?

I believe, after all this, that it is Lilia who puts the sigil on Teen - again, this maybe done in retrospect, when she sends her messages from the future. She knows that Teen's identity must be hidden or Agatha never becomes interested in what he has to say. And maybe others' decisions would change too if they knew. Maybe he needs protecting from the Salem Seven, because he is the son of the Scarlet Witch (that Salem witches call the Harbinger of Chaos and wanted to attack Wanda). Or even protection from Lady Death herself - because if she found out he was literally a ghost, reincarnated, she would want the body to restore the order?

So, in her true style, she literally SEWS the sigil onto Billy's mouth.

Lilia Calderu, what a legend. She is FATE.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twelve}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Kol Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request { @midoriiakina }: Idea is: She often goes to the library, far from others in a secluded little spot, listening to music while she works and thus, she's oblivious to the world around her while she's working. Secretly, she's already a published author writing romance novels as a side hustle to pay the bills, even writing steamy as hell sex scenes even though she's a virgin, too busy or too shy to have any actual experience herself ... he sneaks up on her while she's working and reads over her shoulder, seeing that she's writing some unexpectedly kinky sex scene. And of course, Kol being Kol, he can't help himself... Kinks list: Overstim, breeding, size kink, height kink (lets be honest, he's a foot and a half taller than her, he can manhandle her around like a doll), hair pulling, public sex (Mustn't be too loud in the library, darling!), squirting/cum, oral, blood drinking (she knows he's a vampire and doesn't care how much he marks her up), virgin (but mostly knows what she's doing), and morning after somno to wake her up for more~!

♡♡♡ Darling! Sweetheart! Babe! Your request was so long & detailed... I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I had to shorten this idea immensely... That being said, I LOVE YOU FOR IT.... SO YOU WIN!!!!! You are the greedy award winner & you get a certificate!!!!!! (see the bottom of this post for your reward) ~ XOXO ♡♡♡

3.1k words - Kinks: library sex, a tad bit meta, Kol being a mega flirt, overstim, size, breeding, hair pulling, public, squirting, blood drinking, inexperience...

The library was always your favorite place, especially the quiet corners where you could hide and read your books. You could easily get lost there for hours, curled up in an armchair by a window, just reading away your worries.

That was what you had intended to do this afternoon, but inspiration had struck and instead, you had opened your laptop and started writing. It was the perfect way to pass the time, letting your fingers fly across the keyboard as you created worlds and characters and scenarios, letting yourself escape reality.

There was this particular fantasy you liked to write, a series of one shots based on your biggest turn ons, and today you were writing about a vampire that had caught your eye at the Mystic Grill. He was tall and handsome and the thought of him pinning you against a wall was making heat pool between your legs.

You knew who he was, all dark and dangerous, a Mikaelson. But even though the Mikaelsons had a reputation for being trouble, you couldn't help the way your eyes would roam across his chest and down his arms whenever you saw him.

It wasn't like you were ever going to make a move, or even have a chance with someone like that. So instead you chose to channel all your pent up desires into a good story. Your thighs rubbed together as you imagined him kissing you, and you were so lost in the words and the fantasy that you didn't notice anyone approaching you until a shadow fell over your laptop.

"I... um..." you stuttered, not knowing what to say. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, you were utterly mortified that someone had caught you. You had been so careful to keep it a secret, and now...

Your head snapped up, heart in your throat, and you found yourself staring up into the face of the very same vampire you had been writing about. Kol Mikaelson stood behind you, leaning in to read over your shoulder. "Interesting... 'his hands pinned my hips against the wall as his fangs dragged across my neck.' how very kinky of you," he chuckled, and you quickly shut your laptop, your cheeks burning bright red.

"Don't stop on my account, love. I was quite enjoying the story," he said, taking the seat across from yours. "What happens next?"

You gaped at him, mouth hanging open, trying to form a response. What the hell did he mean by that?

He grinned at your reaction, "You know, we could make that happen if you'd like."

"I... what? No! That's... that's ridiculous," you shook your head, unable to believe he was actually propositioning you. You must have been dreaming. There was no way Kol Mikaelson was flirting with you.

"Why is it ridiculous? Do you have a boyfriend or something?" he asked, grinning even wider when you shook your head. "So why not? It's just a bit of sex,"

You didn't know what to say, so you just sat there staring at him. After a minute he laughed and leaned forward. "Come on, don't tell me you've never had sex before, sweetheart."

Now you really wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. Maybe there was a spell to make you invisible, so you could just disappear from this conversation.

"I, um, I mean, not... not exactly," you finally managed to stutter, cheeks burning even hotter.

He leaned back, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Well now that is unexpected, considering the words you have flowing through that pretty little head of yours."

You blushed, unable to meet his gaze. This was so embarrassing, but it also felt strangely exciting. No one had ever talked to you like this, and the fact that it was Kol made it even better.

Kol watched your reactions, and decided he was going to have a bit of fun with you. He had seen you around town in the past few weeks, and he knew you were a witch, a very cute one at that. And he loved cute witches, they were always so much fun to tease.

"How about this then, since you're so innocent, let's play a little game," he said, smirking at the way you were fidgeting. "We can each tell each other a fantasy, and if we both like it, then we can act it out."

You swallowed, looking up at him, "please stop," you whispered, feeling nervous.

"What do you mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I mean I don't appreciate you making fun of me," you mumbled, looking down again.

Kol frowned, surprised. "I'm not making fun of you, love, I just want to get to know you a little better," he said, trying a different tactic.

You looked up at him, not sure what to say. He sounded sincere, and he was so attractive that it made you nervous. You wanted him to be sincere, to actually like you, but you couldn't stop the tiny voice inside you telling you that this was all just a joke.

He smiled softly, seeing the conflict in your eyes, "How about this, I'll tell you one of my fantasies, and if you like it, you can tell me one of yours."

You considered his offer for a moment, biting your lip as you looked up at him, trying to decide if he was being serious or not. Finally, you nodded, "Okay," you whispered, curious to hear what he would say.

He smirked, pleased that you had agreed, and leaned closer, "I love it when I have a pretty little thing in my lap... and she... makes a mess, if you know what I mean,"

You could feel your body responding, his words sending a rush of heat through you. You shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together, unable to deny how aroused his words had made you.

Kol noticed the shift in your body, and he knew he was getting to you. "Come now, darling ... You write about these things, but can't speak them aloud?" he asked, smirking at the way you blushed.

You were growing tired of feeling so embarrassed, so you took a deep breath, willing yourself to be confident, to be the version of you that you wrote about. You met his gaze, "I've fantasized about... having sex in public," you said, voice shaking slightly.

He raised his eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Well now... that's a very naughty thing for such an innocent little girl," he teased, his words sending another wave of heat through you.

"I'm not that innocent," you retorted, trying to maintain eye contact, but it was hard when his eyes were so dark and intense.

He chuckled, "oh, I'm sure. You just need someone to teach you how to be a proper little slut," he purred, making your core clench.

"And you think you're up to the task?" you asked, surprising yourself with how bold the words sounded coming from your mouth.

"I think I can handle a pretty little thing like you," he grinned, watching as your cheeks turned pink.

You looked around the library, suddenly remembering that you were still in a very public place, and anyone could see you. Your gaze met his again, and you swallowed hard, "what if someone sees us?"

He leaned closer, his eyes burning into yours, "isn't that what makes it so hot?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

You bit your lip, your body aching with need. You were still a little hesitant, but there was no denying the way his words affected you, and you were tired of denying yourself what you wanted. This was an opportunity you couldn't let go to waste.

"Okay," you whispered, "let's do it."

His eyes lit up, genuinely surprised that he had convinced you. But he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He stood up, taking your hand, and led you towards the stacks of bookshelves, further into the library.

There was a cozy little corner that had a couch, and he took a seat, patting his lap, and waited for you to join him. You hesitated for a moment, not sure if you could actually do this, but he was so sexy and confident and you wanted to be just like that. So you took a deep breath and climbed into his lap, straddling his hips.

His hands moved to your waist, holding you in place, and his gaze drifted over your body, taking in the sight of you. "At least tell me you've kissed someone before," he said, giving your hip a little squeeze.

"Of course I have," you replied, feeling a little offended by the question.

He grinned and pulled you closer, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. You moaned softly, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. His lips were so soft, and he kissed you with a passion that made your toes curl.

You had kissed guys before, but it had never felt like this. He knew what he was doing, and he certainly knew how to turn a girl on. He tasted like mint and spice, and you felt dizzy with desire.

He pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping at your skin, and you could feel the slight graze of his fangs. The thought of him biting you was exciting, but also a little terrifying.

A small spark of your magic tingled on your fingertips, a natural reflex to danger, and the feeling made him pause. He lifted his head and looked at you, "do I make you nervous, love?" he asked, a grin spreading across his lips.

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart, and shook your head, "No, I'm fine," you said, trying to sound confident, but your voice came out a little squeaky.

He smirked, knowing full well that he made you nervous. But instead of pushing the issue, he reached under your dress and ran his fingers up the inside of your thigh, teasing your warm skin.

"Now, if we were in a more private setting, I would strip you naked and worship every inch of you. But alas, we'll have to be a bit more subtle," he said, his fingers brushing across the front of your panties.

You gasped, and he grinned, knowing the effect his touch was having on you. His fingers continued to tease you, brushing over a damp spot, searching for your little nub, and when he found it, your hips jerked and you let out a moan.

He grinned, loving the way you responded to his touch, and pressed a little harder, making circles with his fingers. "You are such a pretty little thing," he whispered, his other hand moving to grip your hair, tugging slightly.

You moaned at his words, and the sensation of him playing with your hair, tugging on the strands as his fingers moved. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself rolling your hips, grinding against his hand.

"Ooh, she likes it a bit rough, does she?" he teased, his voice low and seductive, "what else do you like sweetheart?"

Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed with sensations, and you struggled to find words. But the way his fingers moved had you desperate for more. "I... I like... the idea of being filled with.. cum." Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, hoping he knew what you meant.

He chuckled, amused by your shyness, "I'm the perfect bloke to try it with then," he said, his words making your stomach flip, "Can't get you pregnant, being a vampire and all... but I sure do love to try…"

His words sent a rush of heat through you, and before you could stop yourself, you were nodding. You wanted him, desperately.

He grinned, pushing your panties to the side and pressing two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.

He worked them slowly, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and it was all too much. You had never been this turned on before, and the way he touched you made your whole body feel like it was on fire.

You leaned in and kissed him, desperate for more. He tasted so good, and his lips were so soft. His tongue danced with yours, and he sucked gently on your lower lip, making you whimper.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, and you ground down against his hand, wanting more.

"Eager little thing, seems you aren't quite so innocent after all," he murmured, grinning against your lips.

"I told you, I'm not," you breathed, moaning softly as his fingers moved faster.

He chuckled, enjoying the way you were squirming, your cheeks flushed, the sweet little moans escaping your lips.

He could feel your walls starting to tighten around his fingers, and he knew you were close. He pulled his fingers out, making you whimper in frustration, and quickly unzipped his jeans.

"Now, sweet thing, writing about riding a cock and actually doing it are two very different things," he teased, taking your hand and putting it on his warm length.

You could feel how hard he was, and it was thrilling. His skin was so smooth, and you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking gently. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut, and you could feel his cock twitching.

"Good girl, keep doing that," he moaned, his hands gripping your thighs, helping you plant your feet on the sofa so that you could lift yourself up.

You positioned his cock at your entrance, feeling the head rubbing against your wet slit, and slowly started to sink down. The stretch was almost too much, and you gasped, feeling your walls stretch around him.

"Slow down," he growled, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you in place, "You have to take it slow, or else it will hurt."

You stopped, taking a few deep breaths, and tried again. He held your hips steady, guiding you down, and you could feel the burn as he slid deeper. It was an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain, and you could feel yourself stretching, taking him inch by inch.

When he was fully inside you, you let out a sigh, feeling so full.

"Far superior than any toy that you modern girls seem to favor," he said, chuckling at your expression.

"Shh... let me focus," you hissed, adjusting to the feeling of him.

"So bossy," he teased, but didn't say anything else, letting you take your time.

You moved your hips a little, testing the waters, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely.

His hands gripped your hips, and he guided you into a slow, steady rhythm, helping you ride him. The muscles in your thighs immediately started to burn, and it was distracting you from your pleasure, so you put a hand on his shoulder and used him as leverage, grinding down harder.

"That's it," he murmured, his eyes glued to the point where you were joined, watching his cock disappear inside you, "you're a natural."

You moaned, feeling your body start to tingle, and knew that you were close. Your nails dug into his shoulders and he groaned, his hips jerking up, driving himself deeper. It didn't take long for you to completely unravel, falling over the edge with a cry, his name on your lips.

There was a sudden loud sound of a book dropping to the floor nearby, and you froze, wide-eyed, suddenly remembering that you were not alone.

Kol laughed, clearly amused by the situation and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"Don't worry sweet girl, no one saw us," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

He gently picked you up, keeping your bodies connected as he turned and laid you down on the sofa, his hips grinding against yours. He took your wrists and pinned them above your head, his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Now, let's see how quiet you can be, hmm?" he teased, his hips moving slowly, rocking against yours.

Your fingers dug into his hands, and he picked up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, his skin slapping against yours.

"I'm going to fill you up with my cum and make a proper mess of you," he whispered, his lips trailing over your neck, his fangs grazing the skin.

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub, and you gasped, the pleasure building inside you again.

His fangs pierced your skin, the sharp pain mixing with the pleasure of his cock thrusting inside you, and it sent you over the edge again. Your thighs trembling, a gush of wetness rushing from your core. Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned, his hips jerking as he came, spilling himself deep inside you.

"That's a good girl, making a mess just like I requested," he teased, his breath hot against your neck.

Your face was flushed, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. It had been the most intense orgasm of your life, and you were still struggling to wrap your mind around what had just happened.

He pulled back, grinning down at you, "See? Way better than fiction," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your heart was pounding, and you couldn't deny that he was right. Being with him was better than any fantasy.

He pulled back, giving you a wicked smirk. "Well, now that we've established how not very innocent you are, how about I take you home and we can try out all our fantasies on each other,"

You bit your lip and nodded, not able to deny how much you wanted him, again.

He stood, and helped you up, straightening your dress, and fixing his pants. He was surprisingly sweet with you, fixing your hair and leaving little kisses on your cheeks.

"I hope you know I don't want this to be a one time thing," he said, taking your hand and leading you to the exit.

"I wouldn't mind seeing where this could go," you replied, smiling shyly up at him.

He walked with you out of the library, and down the sidewalk, and the cool night air made you shiver. You were glad for the company, and you found yourself leaning into him, his arm around your waist.

"Now, where do you live, my little writer?"

You grinned, and gave him directions, excited for whatever he had in mind next.

After all, it would make a good story, wouldn't it?

~CONGRATULATIONS~

[trulyhblue]

Baby England

Lionesses x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x reader (platonic).

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, coarse language, school, young reader.

A/N — still can't get over Sam's ACL. Like I woke up just to cry? No, thank you.

Masterlist

___________________________________

The Games Room was quiet for what seemed to be the first time ever. The team was sprawled throughout the room, some of them on their phones, others by mountains of pillows. Georgia and Keira were in the indoor pitch juggling with one another. Alex was having a soft conversation with Hempo, laughing at something one of them had said.

The serenity of the room was something you didn't catch often. Usually, the hustle of the team would echo across the walls, loud pints of laughter and screaming coming from one corner of the room to the other. Lucy was often yelling at Mario Kart, and Ellie was always strutting around Table Tennis in triumph, while everyone else grumbled on about how she was too good.

But for now, it was silent, save for the low conversations from the different groups. Even Lessi and Tooney were keeping in check, sharing a rocking chair with mounds of blankets hauled over the top of them.

For anyone else in the room, it would've been extremely relaxing.

For you, it was anything but.

You wanted to snap your pen in half, feeling the fatigue of yesterday's game daunting on your muscles. The words on your laptop were dancing behind the blur of your eyes. You struggled to stay concentrated as Leah sat next to you, taking her eyes off her phone every once while to make sure you were actually doing your homework.

The Euros were speeding by quicker than any of you could imagine. The outcome of your results, and the number of fans that had started to compile over the weeks, was indescribable. This was your debut camp for the Lionesses, and while you spent most of your time on the bench, making late appearances in the 70th minutes of games, you wouldn't change it for the world.

However, with all the excitement and privilege that came with representing your country in such a prestigious competition at Sixteen, you were faced with the challenge of keeping up with school.

When you first signed with the Lionesses, your parents were determined to keep you in school. Your education was very important, and if football ever ended badly for you, they wanted you to have something to fall back on. Growing up through the youth groups, and developing skills in the Arsenal Academy, you were used to the physical and emotional demands of a professional football career. Your parents were incredibly supportive of your dream to play, but their underlying worry when you were called up to the National Team was daunted on them.

So, to make everyone happy, you decided to take on the complicated challenge of juggling both football and school. This meant that in your spare time, all you did was study for exams, take the exams, and then study for the next one. It was an endless cycle of school and work, but you knew that it would be all worth it in the end.

The worst thing about it was that none of the girls were your age. Some of them had Uni work to do, but you were still mastering high school subjects. The workload wasn't nearly as draining, and they seemed to have it all sorted out in a few short hours while you were spending all of your extra time peeling away your useless worksheets, essays and papers.

Lots of the girls were lenient. None of them liked the idea of you cooped up in front of a screen. Hempo would buy you some crisps from down the road. Mary would make TikToks with you, Beth would scoop you up for cuddles and a movie. LJ would pull you away for Mario Kart. All the girls believed that you needed a break, especially in such a stressful time.

But Leah was the exact opposite.

You had known Leah since you were seven. You had met her during one of your Arsenal Youth games, immediately looking up to her as an older sister and role model. Even as a teenager, Leah holds a protective arm around you. She was always ready to defend you on the pitch, not only as a Captain, but as a friend. She wasn't afraid to put you in line — she was the only one who could send you running laps if you were too cheeky. She was strict, especially when you parents weren't there to boss you around, and everyone knew that her authority over you was nothing to debate.

You were training with the Arsenal Women's Team while you were still at the Academy. You're not quite sure why you were chosen in the squad, as you struggled to believe you made the cut at such a young age, but the England Captain didn't hesitate to make you put in the work.

She was a bit like your agent, always persuading you to do something when you weren't sure what to do yourself. You still weren't signed with a WSL team, but as the Euros progressed, teams from everywhere were banking up to sign you as soon as possible. You tried hard not to delve too deeply into it. You knew Arsenal was a main contender, and that's where you most wanted to go, but your focus right now was the Euros... and the essay in front of you.

"C'mon, get it done," Leah ordered, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, her hand carrying the weight on her head against the desk. You had been sitting there for over an hour, a total of one paragraph typed out on your screen. Outside, you could see Beth and Lotte playing Basketball. You threw your head backwards, groaning in respite. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

"No use whining about it." She spoke, still not looking at you. "'Might as well smash it out now so it's done."

"'Dunno what to write about." You grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. You managed to slip a glance towards Esme, feeling your hopes lift up when she gave you a knowing nod.

But of course, Leah caught the interaction. "Hempo, no." She snapped, sending the Forward back to her seat. "You don't get crisps when you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Leah-"

"-Get on with it."

You slouched back into your chair, making sure your Huff was loud and overly obnoxious. Leah had no reaction, leaning back in her chair, and continuing to scroll on her phone.

"Y/N." She murmured in warning.

When you made no effort to keep going, she finally looked at you.

You could tell she was over it. She wasn't obliged to sit with you, but it was an unspoken rule that she did, otherwise, you would never get it finished. The older woman secretly felt bad for making you do it. If it was her choice, you wouldn't be doing school during the tournament. She understood your reluctance, but both of you could guess the consequences of your actions if you weren't handing it in.

"You've got half an hour." She snapped, her glare darkening. If she wasn't strict now, it'd end badly. "If it's not done, I'll bench you."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lauren stop her Lego abruptly. Esme was no longer looking at her phone, instead tilting her head away from the tension rising in an attempt to not get involved.

Leah didn't have the power to bench anyone, the older girls knew that. But to your virtue, you thought that Leah was capable of anything. An abuse of power, maybe, but it worked all the same.

You begrudgingly tapped at your keyboard, making a point to roll you eyes when Leah set an alarm for half an hour. You were determined to keep your spot as a preferred sub, refusing to let Leah feel all smug at the fact that you couldn't finish the stupid essay.

Lauren continued on with her Lego. Esme was starting a new bracelet. Beth and Lotte's giggles were drowned out by the determination written all over your face. Without your knowledge, more and more people began to cram into the Game Room. First, Lucy, then Kei and Gee. A few minutes later, Alessia and Ella were doing a TikTok, their voices growing louder as the minutes went by. LJ walked past with confusion written across her features. She leaned over your shoulder, eyes slightly widening at the page full of words. She glanced to Leah's phone and the timer, then at Leah, who was staring off into the distance.

By five minutes left, you had written nearly two whole pages. Your hands were cramping, and your feet couldn't keep still. Chloe and Katie were surrounding you behind LJ, waiting for you to snap out of your trance and notice the crowd that had complied.

You were reading over your final sentences when the door crashed open, revealing Millie and Rach running in frantically with a cameraman hot on their trail. Their presence was so boisterous that everyone stopped to see who it was, watching in curiosity when the two women started searching the room.

"We need the Baby!" Millie screamed, scrambling onto the floor to check underneath the lounge. "We need the baby!"

Rachel was running to the bean bags, dashing past Lucy, Keira and Georgia playing Mario Kart. Everyone laughed in amusement at the cameraman struggling to keep up with the two of them.

"Where is she?!" Rach screeched at Esme and Lauren, ignoring the fits of giggle the pair were in. "Where's the baby?"

"Over here, idiots," Zelem stated, causing both their heads to dart in your direction. The girls surrounding you were quick to scatter, knowing the wrath of the two women was not something easily escapeable. Millie was about to yank you from under your shoulders when Leah moved in front of you, her prior amusement halting, replaced with her usual sternness.

You were closing your laptop at the sight of the camera, beaming at the thought of freeing yourself.

"Not now, Bright," Leah uttered, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. "She's got school."

Instead of leaving you be, the duo closed in on you, beckoning the camera over to your work sprawled across the table.

Both of them held tiny mics, holding them up to their mouths as they spoke.

"Here we've got the Arsenal Protege in her natural habitat. Born and raised in red, she seems to be researching ways to leave."

"Both Arsenal and Leah."

Leah's face contorted into deep offence. "Hey!"

"Yes, it appears she is." Rachel nodded vigorously, picking up your book, pretending to read it. "She has written down Aston Villa as her top contender. Not only is she fast, but smart too."

Millie hugged you from behind. "But we all know what side of London she's thinking of, isn't that right? Smart, little, blue she'll be, am I right, Williamson?"

The camera panned to Leah, who was not looking at all amused. The thought of you being at any other club felt absolutely gut-wrenching to her. Like her, you had grown up bleeding in North London. She wouldn't trade any other player twice as good as you if that meant you'd stay. But while she'd never admit it, Leah wasn't worried about you leaving Arsenal. She was more worried that you'd leave her.

"Over my dead body." She snapped, wrenching the Chelsea woman's arms away from you, swerving your chair back to face your laptop. "Now, off you go, she needs to get this done."

"I've finished it, Lee." You muttered, feeling embarrassed at the fact that fans would prune over the way you were bossed around. When it came to your figure in the media, it was mainly regarding your blamelessness in comparison to your more experienced teammates. You were often babied by the girls, and fans adored the interactions you would have with them, especially with Leah.

Your Captain looked at you, crossing her arms. "You promise me you're done?"

"Promise." Your cheeks heated as the snickers fell from Daly's lips. You nodded, slowly inching off your seat. "Please, Lee, I've been stuck here for hours."

"Yeah, c'mon, Williamson, let her come to the dark side." Millie barked, causing Leah to grumble at the notion.

It took her a few moments to decide whether or not to let you go, huffing in defeat when she turned off her phone. "Fine. But no Chelsea or Villa talk, swear to Go—"

You were off before she could finish her lecture. Millie had picked you up, lifting you over her shoulders as Rach followed behind. The three of you ran into the indoor training pitch, with the poor cameraman following after you hopelessly.

When Millie plopped you down, you engulfed the warmth of someone's lap. You craned your head back to find Jordan looking back at you, her beady, toothy grin beaming back at you. The Arsenal midfielder wrapped her arms around you as you made the effort to snuggle into her body. Jordan was like your second mother when you were away from home. She was an ongoing support that wore her heart on her sleeve. She was different from Leah's opposing relentless, being more of a calm before the storm, less sentimental but effusive nonetheless.

You were supposed to be Jordan's substitute during your time at the Euros, but her knee injury had ruled her out. Therefore, the woman was only there when the squad wasn't training.

You noticed the multiple cameras surrounding the couch you were all squeezed on, but the attention felt a little less daunting with the comfort of the girls around you.

"We've got some questions for you," Millie spoke, revealing some palm cards from God knows where.

You nodded, keeping your head on Jord's chest. "Ask away."

"Who is your favourite teammate?"

You thought to yourself for a second before shrugging. "Jordan."

Rach scoffed. "Boring."

"Yeah, next!" Millie rolled her eyes. "Who would win in a fight, me or Daly?"

"Why am I answering these?!" You laughed, shaking your head. "You could've asked anyone."

"Those aren't the real questions." Jordan prodded, leading the two women to laugh their heads off at their supposed humour. You looked around at everyone, extremely confused about what you were here for. There were a few PR Managers behind the media setup, all with clipboards in their hands. You managed to catch Jordan eyeing Bright and Daly, squeezing your body a little tighter.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just having a laugh." Mils chortled, straightening up before continuing. "We're to announce that Baby England here has been asked to answer a few questions on behalf of the team."

You watched the centre-back intently. "Why me?"

"Dunno." Rach shrugged, followed shortly by Mil's voice. "Just 'cause."

"Alright, then, by who?"

"God, you'd think with all that schoolwork you'd be a bit brighter."

Jordan huffed from behind you. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright." Rachel scoffed, taking out the same cards as Millie had, the England Lioness logo plastered on the back. "So, seriously now, how do you think the Lionesses have worked throughout the Euros?"

You were never the one to be faced with serious questions in interviews. In fact, you had only ever attended one or two. At Arsenal, you were in the Academy, meaning the media surrounding you and your team was very scarce. As a representative of your National Team, the two interviews you had been a part of were your induction and your Player of the Match award at the end of one of the games. You weren't used to being in the spotlight like your England teammates, but you were not opposed to being overshadowed by them either. You knew you had a lot to learn, you were happy to play alongside them.

“Erm, I'm not quite sure.” You posed, blushing at the laughter that followed. “I'm very proud to be a part of it… this is a big opportunity for me, and I'm grateful for having the chance to represent my country.”

“True English,” Mils said fondly, finding the camera with her eyes. “Modest as always.”

Jordan hugged you tighter. “Let her finish, Millie.”

“But I think all of the girls think that, even to a bigger scale than me.” You continued, fidgeting with your hands. “It's a home Euros so… we all want to bring it home. I think that's one of the main contributors — the pressure, but also the idea of winning. We all want our families and country to be proud. So, yeah, and because we all love football. That's a given.”

“That was a bloody good answer, Baby England,” Rach commented. Her hand was rubbing your shoulder, her legs crossed over each other on the lounge. The Defender behind her was smiling, propping herself into a more comfortable position before she spoke.

“Speaking of,” She smirked. “Are you bothered by your nickname ‘Baby England?’ Do you feel a bit bugged by it?”

You giggled into Jordan, your cheeks inevitably heating up. “Erm, yes and no. I mean, I know I'm the youngest but I’ll go back to training and the girls will be teasing me for it.”

“Do you want to stay in the Academy?” Rach asked. “What’s your plans after the Euros?”

“Not sure.” You shrugged. “Hopefully we finish with Gold, that's the hope, obviously. But, I’ll just have to see.”

Both women looked at each other, then the camera, hiding their smiles concurrently. Jordan and you watched in confusion.

“Should we start the list of offers you've got right now?” Daly chortled. “I can think of five on the top of my head.”

“Who’s your top five?” Millie continued, leaning in and mouthing her club Chelsea.

“Leah would kill me!” You laughed, shaking off the question. “I was talking to Lessi and Lotte about the States, cause my parents still want me to have an education. But to be fair, my agent hasn't told me any offers. I don't think she will until the Euros are over.”

“Well, you heard it hear first.” Rachel beamed. “Baby England to Villa!”

The Cameraman was about to end the video when a booming fury echoed from across the room.

All heads turned to an enraged Leah storming over. “I said no Villa talk!”

__________________________________

yourusername (pretend it's you and Leah)

yourusername — sorry @ rachdaly, no Villa talk

Comments

milliebright — u say nothing about Chelsea, right?

^ leahwilliamson — don't even go there.

lionesses — football’s coming home 🫶🏼

racheldaly — I’ll find a way

^ leahwilliamson — no you won't.

user1 — Leah fighting for Y/N’s spot at Arsenal more than Arsenal themselves LMAO

^ user2 — she really said North London Forever

lottewubbenmoy — Baby England 🫶🏼

alessiarusso99 — beautiful girls

*liked by yourusername, leahwilliamson

User3 — is this an Aston Villa denial confirmation?

^ user4 — I think shes just referencing the YouTube video or Her, Jordan, Mils, and Rach.

^ user5 — shes got all these offers, who knows

^ user3 — she practically confirmed she was going to North Carolina in that video tho

^ user4 — 🤷‍♀️ you could say that is is an Arsenal Confirmation since Leah’s in it. Fr tho idk.

Leahwilliamson — my 🌟 girl

^ user6 — their friendship is so cute

User7 — All these clubs want her, WHERE WILL SHE GO

^ yourusername — 👀

^ user7 — STOP DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

__________________________________

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter III

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, explicit sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: haha don't hate me but I split the chapter up again! that means there's no smut in this chapter either but it was getting long and the place I chose to leave off felt like a natural end. that being said this chapter is entirely you x bjorn-centric and there is a lot of pay off!

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 4.4k

Masterlist Next Chapter

Bjorn is the fucking worst. 

A marginal part of you just assumed that maybe he was an angry drunk following your little exchange in the bar but no—he's just angry.

Despite your previous apprehension you begin to accept Kay’s invites to join her and the others whenever they get together, which is a lot. You know you're treading in dangerous territory, allowing yourself to get close to them, but you're powerless to stop it, unable to recall the last time you had this much fun, almost too much, feels a little wrong, like it should be illegal. 

The only downside is dealing with Kay’s asshole cousin Bjorn, like stepping on a dull thumbtack you can't dislodge when you see him joking around with Tyler, his eyes narrowing as soon as he notices you approach, like he has some score to settle. 

You don't let it get you, not immediately, not letting him run you off out of spite, just as petty as he is. 

You can only hold your tongue for so long however, before reacting explosively to whatever insult is thrown your way, giving him exactly what he wants. 

The others stop trying to intervene after so long, when they realize neither of you are willing to back down, deciding to just roll their eyes and ignore your immature back and forth, splintering off to start a new conversation of their own.

It's another one of those nights, the tension between the two of you thick, thicker than the smoke coming from the bonfire, gathered in the quarry again. It's a regular hangout spot for them, liking the exclusivity of its location, far from the hustle and bustle of the streets alive at night, when the majority of the colonists who’re assigned to work in the mines aren't slaving away underground. 

You and Bjorn have been taking digs at each other all night—what else is new?—cycling between something passive aggressive and flippant, or overt and direct, depending on how irritated whatever he says makes you. 

“Always so hot and bothered, ain'tcha’ sweetheart? If ya’ shut up and c’mere I can give ya’ a real mouthful,” he smirks, grabbing himself through the loose crotch of his frayed cargo pants.

Disgust pinches the bridge of your nose, nice and tight, hissing back, “ugh, you're such a pig. I’m thoroughly convinced the shitty apple didn't fall far from the shitty tree,” words soaked in venom, the aftertaste of acid burning the lining of your esophagus. 

It's like pulling the pin on a grenade, watching the way everyone reacts, a collective gasp shredding through the calm. Your revulsion is replaced by one of confusion, head cocking to the side as your posture wilts, losing all strength in your shoulders. You don't get why, not when you've said far, far, worse to one another, made a little game of it even. 

You don't see the usual anger or arrogance you've become accustomed to. Instead he looks hurt. Wounded. Blinking twice as fast like he's trying to stop his eyes from watering only to catch himself, schooling his face into something neutral, something mean.

Bracing yourself for the fallout, Bjorn does something completely unexpected—he leaves. Doesn't scream or swear or snark back, just silently turns and retreats, gravel loudly crunching beneath the black worn-in soles of his stormer boots, not sparing a single glance your way while he does.

“Not cool dude,” Navarro chides in your direction, slinging the strap of the backpack she bought the beer in over her shoulder before jogging off in hot pursuit of her brother, “Bjorn, wait up man!”

It's enough to kill the whole vibe, everyone awkwardly parting ways not long after. You return to your apartment sooner than predicted, playing the scene over and over in your head as you try and decipher what could've triggered that response, like he was on the verge of tears. And the others, with the exception of Andy, all seemed floored, clearly clued in on some context you're missing. 

But the thing is, why should you even care? For Bjorn and his infantile way of coping with whatever he's dealing with? When he's not once shown you the same consideration in return? You shouldn't. 

At least—that's what you tell yourself as you strip down to your underwear and crawl into the familiar warmth of your bed, cocooning your body in your blankets as the exhaustion and sleeping pills kick in, lulling you into a restless sleep. 

A sharp knock on the front door startles you awake, eyes bouncing off the walls of your cramped room before they're drawn sideways, finding the analog clock sitting on your bedside table. 

It's late in the afternoon, not nearly as late as you usually allow yourself to sleep on days off, still, that's not what's currently puzzling your still-waking brain.

There's a followup knock, reminding you why you're awake in the first place, begrudgingly removing yourself from the comfort of your sheets while you try and figure out who'd be visiting you right now, pulling on yesterday's jeans left crumpled on the floor by your bed. 

Maybe it's Kay stopping by to check on you. She looked like she wanted to say something last night, after Tyler smothered the bonfire and everyone had left but ultimately never did, choosing to run and catch up with Rain, weaving their fingers together once she did.

You swear though, if it’s just some corpo from the council coming to assign you mandatory overtime you might just take the automatic jail sentence.  

It ends up being neither. To your surprise it’s Tyler, fist raised like he’s getting ready to knock again, immediately taking one step down on the concrete steps leading up to your doorway to give you some room, cheeks a little red. 

“Sorry, didn’t meanta’ wake you,’” Tyler greets, probably taking note of your unkempt appearance, from your tangled hair to the rapid flutter of your lashes, trying to blink the sleep out of them. 

“Could—would you mind if we had a chat?” He amends, adding on, “it’ll only take a sec,” after the fact, the porch light above your head just bright enough to illuminate the hope on his face. Well, this is new. 

You’ve grown to like Tyler and the company he provides, always thoughtful and in high spirits, regardless if he just clocked out of a sixteen hour shift or not, hands shaking and wrapped in dirty gauze from the wounds he sustained. 

That being said, you’ve never met up just the two of you, only ever spending time in facilitated group settings outside of the mines. 

Nonetheless you move aside, a nonverbal queue to come in that he readily accepts, maneuvering around you to step into the tiny kitchenette adjacent to your bedroom. You watch as he gazes around, taking in the surroundings like all the apartments the colonists reside in don't look exactly the same. Albeit yours is pretty bare, not seeing a point in decorating when you could be transferred again at a moment's notice.

“So,” you say, shattering the quiet, leaning back against the laminate counter, arms folded out in front of you with one foot crossed over the other, right heel lifted off the tile floor, “what did you wanna talk about?”

There’s little doubt in your head as to what it's pertaining to, suspicion shortly confirmed by the sheepish look in Tyler's eyes when he meets yours again,“it's about Bjorn.” 

“I figured as much,” you sigh, waiting for him to go on, his hand coming up to anxiously rub over the back of his neck.

“Right, so. Is’not my place to share but Bjorn has a lot of baggage there—with his family. It's a super sore subject for ‘im,’ so when you said that it kinda dug all that shit up.”

Tyler continues, cutting you off before you have a chance to interrupt, “And I know you didn’t mean it, that you don't owe ‘im anything, and you certainly don't hafta’ listen to me but would you please just. Talk to ‘im?’

You can tell Tyler means well, that he wants to smooth things over between the two of you and, while you’d never readily admit it aloud, you do feel a little bad for Bjorn. Bjorn. Sunlight must be shining through the perpetual polluted cloud cover from up above.

It’s just, you know what it’s like, dealing with the aftermath of familial trauma, trying to navigate a world that’s taken so much and given nothing back. Learned to bare your teeth rather than your soul, the only guaranteed method to alleviate the emotional damage life on Jackson’s Star brings.

Maybe Kay is right. Maybe you and Bjorn are alike.

And maybe Tyler is too, about talking to Bjorn, maybe it's time you two talk it out, try and find common ground so the others don't have to play referee anymore. 

“Fine,” you agree,“I’ll talk to him.” 

All the tension in Tyler's shoulders melts away, a relieved sigh deflating his chest, like he had been steeling himself for a potential refusal. 

“Lovely, that's—thank you. Really.” Tyler beams, drawing you into an unexpected hug, a quick, thankful little squeeze despite your arms still being crossed.

Tyler pulls away so you can face each other again, “I know he can be a total fuckin’ wanker but he's one a’ the only people Kay and I got left. And Kay’s got you now and—you don't have to like ‘im. Hell I don't half the time, but if you could just try and tolerate each other maybe?” 

A giggle bubbles up out of you, offering a reluctant nod in return, “sure, I can try. No promises though.” 

“S’okay. I don't expect Bjorn to listen anyways but if I can at least get you on board, things should be smooth sailin’ yanno?” 

You doubt it'll be that easy, that Bjorn will even be receptive to talking but you're willing to honor Tyler's request and try, for him, Kay and the others. 

Once Tyler leaves, you decide it's better to just rip the bandaid off and go looking for Bjorn, who's apparently putting in overtime, something he's prone to doing whenever he needs to blow off some steam according to his older cousin. 

You clock in and check out a drill, the only way low-level colonists gain entry down here, lugging it through one of the series of carved paths towards the sound of shrill cogging you hear echoing off the walls just up ahead in the distance. 

Bjorn isn't hard to find. He's the only one laboring on his day off, the only one in this section of the mines at least, save for the lone guard stationed at the mouth of the tunnel, paying you little mind as you pass. 

The drill head Bjorn's wielding bores into the hard rock, heavy handed from the anger he's trying to work through, sparks flying off as a result. 

Your stomach swoops low when he looks at you, anticipating some kind of reaction, his muscles sagging just a little but, like the guard, he goes back to working, drilling a little harder than before. You can tell this conversation will be like pulling teeth. 

“Bjorn,” you call, trying to be heard over the sound of grating metal, pulling your goggles up and your mask down, letting it hang around your neck. “Bjorn!” 

The lean lines in his forearms built over time flex harder, highlighted by the sweat gathering there, gloved fingers constricting around the worn handle of the power tool as he readjusts his grip. Even through the face shield you can tell he's gritting his teeth, grinding them just as hard as the drill against the rock, the muscles in his neck straining from the way his jaw is set so incredibly tight.

“Bjorn!” You repeat, growing frustrated, taking the risk of losing a finger or two by pushing at Bjorn's shoulder, “can you please just—look at me?”

He’s quick to snatch your wrist, startling you, strong enough to keep the drill upheld with his other arm while he thumbs the off switch. 

“Wha’ in the bloody fuck d’ya want?!” He snarls, eyes narrowed and brows pinched, twisting your arm to hold it down in between you, mindful not to actually hurt you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, avoiding the angry scowl he's wearing, now the one unable to make eye contact.

“Wha’ tha’ fuck was tha’?!”

Your throat feels rougher than sandpaper, finding it harder to swallow than the pills you pop every night. “I said I'm—sorry.”

The laugh he gives in response sounds hollow, bitter, “oh thas’ bleedin’ rich comin’ from you. Come ta’ say sorry so you can sleep a little easier tonight, have ya?’ Well I don't want ur fuckin’ pity.”

Your head whips up at that, doing your best to keep composed, despite your fight or flight urging you to combat his animosity with your own. 

“I didn't come to apologize to make myself feel better, that's not who I am. Whether we get along or not doesn't matter. I realized I crossed a line and you deserve better than that. That's why I came to say sorry.” 

His face softens just a bit, just long enough for you to notice before his expression hardens again, lips parting to say something more but he never gets the chance to, interrupted by a low ominous groan that shakes the entire roof of the tunnel you're standing in. Shit, that doesn't sound good.  

You share a look of dread then, before either of you can react, a crevasse three feet wide fractures up the entire length of the rock right above your heads as the deafening roar of a cave-in drowns out every other noise.

The only thing you feel is Bjorn’s calloused hand still holding onto your wrist roughly yanking you into his body right as everything collapses around you.

The first thing you register is the fact you're still alive. Aching all over and windpipe tight from inhaling the harsh toxins released into the air all at once, but—alive.

The next is the ringing in your ears, a high frequency whine that sounds like a mortar shell just went off by your head, leaving you disoriented, possibly concussed.

And the last is the solid body of muscle you're lying on top of, the same one that just saved you from biting it several moments ago. 

He's sprawled out on his back, the rapid wide-eyed blinking and quick rise and fall of his chest trying to draw air back into his lungs an indication he's in much the same condition as you, goggles cracked and his face shield missing. 

Your breath catches when you notice how close the two of you are, so close you can see the dirt clinging to his goatee and the dried cracks of his chapped lips, breath smelling like rolling tobacco and polar ice gum. As much as you hate it, you can't help but think how attractive the view is.

He seems to regain his focus, looking down to lock gazes with yours, realizing the position you're in. His eyes roving over your face as if he's appraising you, as if he's checking you out. 

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, the severely dim lighting disguising the blush bleeding into your cheeks, rolling off and away from him, hoping he didn't feel the rapidity of your heart beating against your sternum like a battering ram. “Thanks.” 

Once the kicked-up soot and debris has settled a bit you take in everything around you—what's left of it. Both your headlamps are busted, both of which you discard along with the goggles and gloves, drills buried somewhere underneath the rubble you just were, the entrance to the tunnel you're in decimated to a cataclysmic degree, the only way in or out. You guys are trapped. 

“Ah fuck,” Bjorn swears, grasping the utterly abysmal situation you’ve both found yourselves in. “This is bad.”

“Thank you for your valuable insight. Where would I be without your brilliant observation skills,” you snark, the two of you sitting up to face each other, backs against either side of the walls that are still intact, knees drawn up to your chests to give each other a little more leg room.

“Shoulda just let ya’ get crushed by them rocks,” he huffs, “woulda saved me tha’ headache. And tha’ oxygen.” 

He's right about the oxygen. In an enclosed space like this with no ventilation, you're both in short supply, aware you'll run out of it soon enough. Even if the collapse didn't initially kill you, the suffocation inevitably will. 

“I seriously can't believe I'm gonna die down here with you of all people.”

“Ah yah,’ cuz this is how I wanted ta’ spend ma’ last moments before I kicked the bucket,” he rolls his eyes, untying the simple knot of his red bandana, which is grimier than usual due to the ash and sediment lingering in the air, setting it on the ground beside him. 

Bjorn pulls a rolled joint out of the breast pocket of his shirt, lighting up as soon as it's in his mouth. You almost tell him to put it out so you can preserve the limited oxygen you have but ultimately you elect to stay quiet. What's it matter anyway? Dying sooner might just be a mercy. 

“How much ya’ wanna bet some synth fuck’s up there right now tellin’ tha' council we're not worth tha' time or trouble?”

“You really have it out for synthetics, don't you?” 

You were aware he didn't like Andy, an opinion he made known every time Rain brought him to group hangouts but you didn't realize it ran that deep, never connecting the dots between his insults and the prejudice he clearly harbors. 

He chuckles, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he does so, a pungent cloud of weed looming over you, “ever tha' observant one, aren't cha babes?” 

“Fuck you,” you bristle, arms loosely wrapping around your shins, fingers lacing together just below the kneecaps. Although, to be fair you did more or less say the same thing to him not even five minutes ago. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” the few oil lamps the cave-in didn't snuff out highlighting the wink he throws your way. “And if ya’ must know—yeah, I do. Every fuckin' last one of ‘em.” 

Deciding to tread carefully you simply ask, “why?” exercising a level of caution you normally never do.

Silence drags between you, expecting Bjorn to ignore your probably invasive question when, to your surprise he replies, answering with a painful degree of honesty that nearly blindsides you, “my mum. She worked in tha’ mines like most o’ us had to. When I was eight, there wuz a collapse much like this one. ‘Cept she was one o’ three miners on one side o’ the tunnel while there were a dozen in tha’ otha. A synth convinced tha’ council her life wuzn’t worth theirs. So—they let her die. Scared. Confused. Probably hopin’ for rescue. She always told me ta' keep tha' light on fo’er when she'd tuck me inta bed before her shift every night so she could find’er way back ta’ me.” 

He yanks out two sets of dog tags tucked underneath his shirt by the chain, one of them his and the other presumably his mother's, just like the ones you’re wearing, the corporation’s way of identifying bodies of miners lost, his thumb running over the engraving etched into one of the nameplates. 

Sympathy swells inside of you listening to him, “that's horrible.” 

You had assumed Bjorn's past was traumatic based on the little information Tyler was willing to share but you never expected it to hit so close to home.

“I get it,” you murmur, head tipping back to stare at the chiseled rock and remaining support beams to hold back any stray tears that might threaten to fall, clenching at your dirty pant legs a little tighter.

“My mom. She was pregnant and forced to work down in the mines until the shit she was inhaling induced her prematurely. Guess toxic fumes are bad for a pregnancy,” you roll your eyes, biting off a sarcastic, watery chuckle. “She ended up dying during childbirth.” 

There's a pause, your words hanging heavy in the air. You've never shared that with anyone who didn't already know. Word traveled fast around each sector, gossip the only news worth spreading, people talking about the girl orphaned by a reckless mother who should've known better. Fuck, it makes you sick just thinking about it.

When Bjorn speaks it's soft, comforting. “Thas’ horrible. So thas’ why you been volunteerin’ for Kay.” 

“Yep,” you confirm, popping the p, head rolling forward to lock eyes again, watching him put out the remnants of his joint on the wall next to him before flicking the butt into the pile of debris. 

“And ur dad?” he asks, the bend of his elbows resting on either one of his knees, leaving his forearms to dangle. 

“Never knew him,” you shrug, becoming detached at the very mention of him, like you’re discussing a stranger, which in a way you are, “he left right after knocking my mom up. Didn't want the added responsibility of raising a kid.”

“Fuck, I wish my old man woulda jus' dipped out from tha’ start. Woulda been the only decent thing he ever did fo'us,” Bjorn spits, words dripping with vitriol, clearly holding a hatred reserved for his father only. 

“What happened to him?” No longer trying to tiptoe around the questions that pop into your head since you're both over sharing. Since you're both dead anyway. 

“He’s still around but 'e's not around if ya know whadd’i mean. After my mom died 'e started boozin’ heavily to deal widit. When he wasn't in the mines 'e was out gettin’ piss drunk. Stupid prick gave fuck all about me and Navarro.” 

There's a growl that rumbles deep in his lower register, rotating his arms so they're pointed wrist-up towards the ceiling. You follow his line of sight, seeing scars littered across his skin, raised and round and purple from healing. Cigarette burns. 

“Bjorn…” you trail off, a level of sadness you haven't felt in a long time settling deep in your skin, “That's—what the fuck. Did Jackson’s, did they do anything about it?” 

“They don't give a rat's arse, yanno that,” he scowls, but not at you, turning his arms back down, “s’long as I'm alright enough to work they'll overlook a black eye or busted up lip. They can all fuckin’ eat shit far as m' concerned.”

“I'm so fucking sorry about earlier. I really, truly am,” You stress, even more genuine than the initial apology you offered, feeling like a total bitch for what you said to him in the quarry. 

He waves you off, combing his fingers through his sweaty, clumped bangs to separate them, “s’alright babes. Already forgiven.” 

You never thought you'd say it but you're actually glad Tyler convinced you to talk things out with Bjorn, even if it inevitably did lead to your approaching demise. If, by some miracle, you both survive, maybe you can be friends. At the very least, friendly. 

“Can't believe m' gonna die a bloody virgin,” Bjorn groans, head falling back against the rock. 

“Really?” You laugh, a full-body chuckle that has you coughing into a loosely curled fist immediately after, your lungs burning from all the shit you've breathed in, “that's your concern?”

“Uh yah! What else do I hafta' be worried about? Dying? That shit’s imminent at this point, hate ta’ break it ta’ ya’ darling.” 

He has a point. Besides, maybe focusing on a smaller problem will diminish some of the fear about the larger one at hand. 

“You're right,” you concede, though you can't help but be surprised by the revelation, with the way Bjorn carries himself he seemed like the type to sleep around with anyone willing to let him, “that does suck.” 

“Oh? So ur not one then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow that disappears under his hair, curiosity piqued. 

“No. Made a few mistakes back in my old sector, had a few one night stands. Nothing serious,” you shrug, indifferent. None of them ever meant something to you anyhow, just a brief period of time when you used alcohol to cope, when you just wanted to feel someone's arms around you. 

“Course—I don't hafta’ die a virgin.” 

His eyes openly roam over you, from your face down to what he can see of your body with the position you're sitting in, tongue parting his lips to slowly lick over them. You feel your stomach flutter, like you'd just swallowed a congregation of butterflies. Okay, he's definitely checking you out now. 

Are you seriously suggesting I sleep with you?” You ask in disbelief, the question entirely rhetorical considering you're the only other person here and he's eyeing you like a prime cut of steak, “what are you, high?”

“Clearly babes. That's beside tha’ point. Wouldn't be tha’ worst thing in tha' world, now would it?” 

“It might be,” you retort, “so was this just your plan all along? Get in my pants?” 

“Ah yah, I collapsed tha' mine so you'd drop ya' knickers fo' me, fucking come off it. And come with me, why don't ya?’” He smirks, doing that signature cocky head tilt of his.

That's not what you meant. Moreso wondering if that was his goal from the start, the tension between you seeming sexual in retrospect. You spear your bottom lip between your teeth, actually considering the offer, always finding Bjorn annoyingly, stupidly, attractive. Maybe you're the one that's high.

“I—” 

As if on queue you hear a familiar rumble, just like the one that trapped you here to begin with, rubble and soot raining down on top of you and Bjorn, looking up just as the ceiling bows.

Bjorn is quicker to react than you are, lunging at you right as one of the wooden support beams gives way and topples sideways, taking another chunk of the mine with it, the both of you avoiding another close call as the tunnel around you continues to shrink and shrink. 

This time he ends up on top of you, the full weight of his body pressing down onto yours, his gaze drawing away from the roof to meet yours again, the intensity of his stare causing heat to pool low in your core.  

Then he kisses you—and you let him. 

[photo1030]

Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp. 

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too. 

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night. 

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear. 

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision:  do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw? 

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear. 

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame. 

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest. 

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now. 

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone. 

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs. 

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group. 

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move. 

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown. 

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed. 

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill. 

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.  

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow. 

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there. 

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face. 

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp. 

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks. 

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp. 

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot. 

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew. 

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away. 

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses. 

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief. 

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.” 

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose. 

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word. 

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops. 

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness. 

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize. 

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam. 

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground. 

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation. 

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard. 

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it. 

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin. 

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.  

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force. 

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders. 

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you. 

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing. 

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath. 

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips. 

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips. 

“I guess so."

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter thirty

Summary: How does it end?

Warning: Duel POV. The tiniest mention of sex.

Word Count: 1471

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A/N: I can't believe this is almost the end. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

Bucky’s POV

The memory of you standing by the sketch of him lingered in Bucky’s mind, a haunting melody that he couldn’t shake. Your words echoed in his eyes: “For my entire life in this city– all I see is you.” It felt like a revelation as if he could see something shift in you at that moment. Yet, he was unsure how to process the emotions that stirred within him. 

Bucky decided to spend the day with Leah, taking her to a place that once brought him solace to help clear his mind. The lake was nestled away from the neon lights and the city’s hustle, a place the two of you had often retreated to. He thought bringing Leah there would help him find some clarity. 

The ride to the lake was quiet, nothing but the hum of the bike, and Bucky’s clouded thoughts. Leah noticed his distraction from the moment he picked her up, but she chose not to press him about it. He did wonder if she sensed the undercurrents of his unease, even though she seemed content. 

Just as he remembered it, the lake water shimmered under the late afternoon sun, and the trees whispered in the gentle breeze. Leading Leah to a secluded spot, the familiar surroundings tugged at his heart. 

Leah wandered around, taking in the scenery. Her eyes fell upon something carved into the bark of an old oak tree as she approached it. A curious smile played on his lips as she turned to Bucky. “Hey, Bucky… come here!” she called out.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the tree she stood by. Your initials and his, intertwined and etched into the tree– a memory, a relic of your shared history.

“That’s adorable,” Leah said, her tone light but knowing as she gestured toward the markings. 

Sighing, Bucky ran a hand over his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you, Leah.” 

Her smile faded slightly as she looked at him expectantly, sensing the seriousness in his tone. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage. “I love her, Leah. I’ve tried to bury it, to move on, but I can’t.” 

Leah remained calm, almost resigned. “No way, I’d never would have guessed.”

Bewildered, Bucky looked at her meeting her gaze. “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew, dumbass,” she replied, amusement sparkling in her eyes. 

“Wait,” Bucky’s confusion deepened. “Why… why did you stay all this time?”

Her expression softened, and affection flickered in her gaze. “Honestly, I was never looking for anything serious, and it was clear you weren’t either, not with anyone else anyway. Oh, and the sex was great.” 

He realized just how perceptive she had been all along and her honesty struck him. He thought he must have been a dumbass, thinking he could keep his feelings for you buried while being around Leah.

“I do care about you, Leah,” he began, his voice filling with regret. 

She smiled, understanding etched on her face. “I know.” 

The weight of unspoken truths settled between them as they stood in silence for a moment. The lake, the tree, your initials– all symbols of a past he couldn’t escape.

Leah’s gentle voice broke the silence. “You need to figure out what you want, Bucky. And I think you already know.” 

He nodded, his heart filled with mingling gratitude and sorrow. “Thank you, Leah. For everything.” 

“Hey, this isn’t a farewell speech, yet,” she chuckled softly. “We’ve still got plans with everyone at the bar later, remember?” 

“Shit,” Bucky laughed, the tension between them easing slightly. “You’re right, do you want to leave now, then?” 

As they rode back to the city, Bucky reflected on his gratitude for Leah’s understanding. A strange mixture of relief and anticipation coursed through him as he thought about a chance to confront his feelings. 

~

Cry Baby’s POV

The evening approached and you began to get ready to meet with everyone at the bar. You tried to push away the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever you thought about Bucky together with Leah as your phone buzzed with a text to confirm they’d be there.

When you arrived at the bar, your friends were gathered in the usual booth. A comforting, familiar atmosphere was created with laughter and music filling the air. Greeting everyone, you exchanged quick hugs and caught up on their latest news. 

While in mid-conversation with Sam, the door swung open, and Bucky walked in with Leah by his side. Your heart flipped at the sight of him, yet you tried to keep your composure steady and stay focused on your conversation.

Bucky’s gaze found yours almost in an instant, and for a moment, it was as if no one else in the world existed. A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips before Leah pulled him toward the group.

~

The night wore on as you tried to focus on your friends, yet your attention kept drifting over to Bucky. The easy way he interacted with Leah, the smiles they were sharing, every second felt like a dagger to your heart. Lost in your thoughts, you almost missed a particular moment that shattered your fragile composure. 

“Sweetheart,” the nickname used amid a casual conversation, snapped your thoughts back to reality. The word hit you like a punch to the guy as the realization that he wasn’t directing it to you, but instead to Leah. It felt like every memory you had of all the times he’s called you that flooded your mind, the term of endearment that had always been yours– The smallest piece of the connection you cherished. 

Your emotions began to boil over, and you couldn’t stay there any longer. You bolted from the booth without a word, rushing out of the bar. As if in sync with your turmoil, the night air was cold and damp, pouring raid as the sky opened up. 

The rain soaked through your clothes as reached the bikes lined up outside the bar. Each breath you took hitched with sobs, the chill of the rain mixed with the heat of your tears. The plan was crystal clear as the rest of the world blurred. You turned to see Bucky as his heavy footsteps approached you from behind. His face filled with concern, his eyes held an urgency that mirrored the storm within you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. His touch was a warm contrast to the wet, cold rain. 

You struggled to find the right words, the rain began to mingle with your tears as they spilled down your cheeks. “I can’t sit in there and listen to you call her that,” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you finally looked up at him. “I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s been ours since we were kids, Bucky.” 

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes widened in shock but his hand stayed gently holding your cheek, smoothly rubbing his thumb against it. The only sound between you was the relentless patter of rain hitting the pavement, as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. 

“I’m in love with you,” your words spilled out in a rush, the adrenaline that coursed through you drove it to admit the truth to him. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I can’t watch you be with someone else anymore–”

Before you could continue, Bucky’s lips met yours. The intensity takes your breath away. Everything around you seemed to disappear, there was only the two of you standing in the rain, together. The kiss was filled with years of unspoken emotions, everything you had been hiding.

His forehead rested against yours when he pulled back. His breath was warm as it mingled with your ragged breaths as he spoke. “I’m in love with you too,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you, I just… I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Wrapping your arm around his neck, your tears mixed with the rain as you held him tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” you said, your voice choking on your emotions. “I, I, I,” you stuttered unable to find your voice again. 

He shook his head, placing another kiss against your lips. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. “We know now, and that’s all that matters.” 

The rain continued to pour down, chilling you to the bone, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was you were finally together, your hearts laid bare. 

The pain, the confusion, the fear– in that moment, you knew that everything you had been through had led to this. Standing together, Bucky by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever came next in the open road of the future.

---

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