#another word barf that worked out. nice

[qierxing]

Under the Sea

Yan! Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Halloween AU

CW/TW: Reader is noted with both she and they pronouns interchangeably due to their fluid state of being but is still considered G/N overall

“If you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose it for certain.”

–

Dead men tell no tales, they said.

Sailing would be easy, they said. 

Did they think about the repercussions of unforetold supernatural problems?

The rancid smell of seaweed and brine makes your nose scrunch as you’re hauled up and thrown roughly onto your knees, shredding even more of your nice clothing. You doubt the cold hands cared though. After all, what is one puny mortal against a whole ship full of undead pirates?

“This one ‘ere’s seems to be the ca’pn, sir.” A guttural growl echoes above you, and murmurs of more crewmates surround you. 

It was a good run, you thought to yourself. You fought till the end, until your daggers and saber were knocked out of your hands, your skin slashed and bruised, and till they had to pin you down from causing more trouble. It was more than what you could say for your own crewmates, the traitorous, cowardly scum, leaving you immediately and trying to flee with their own lives. Didn’t matter though, because they were all immediately slaughtered without mercy. You’d have more pity for them dying in their own pools of blood if they didn’t abandon you first.

A barnacle covered boot tips your chin up, and you’re face to face with a smug man, piercing green eyes, dark hair like coal tied in dreads and braids, tall and lithe figure to boot. The captain of this crew, no doubt.

“You. Herbivore. What’s yer name?”

People back home called you many names. The looney merchant. A superstitious fanatic. Raving madman on the better days. Today, you can now safely say they’re all fitting.

“...[First]. [First] [Last].” You cough up, after the boot digs into the crook of your chin and head, causing an unbearable pressure on your throat. The pressure removes itself and you’re left choking for air while the man hums in thought.

“Well, ca’pn Leona?” The voice behind you asks. A scrawny, weasley sounding voice. Must be the one who binded you. “Dunno why you kept this one alive.”

You could practically hear the grin in the next words. 

“‘Cuz they got some worth to ‘em right now.”

–

“Have ye heard about the myth of Calypso?”

The name sets you on edge immediately. A pirate asking after the revered primordial sea goddess? That can only mean…

“Who hasn’t?” You shrug your shoulders flippantly. “Every child in a coastal town has heard about how she controls the seas and watches over sailors.”

An annoyed growl is your response. It seems your hunch was correct. “Not that, idiot. I meant about her curse.”

Aha.

“Curse?”

The captain gnashes his canines impatiently. “The one where she curses her lover for leaving her.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I’m acquainted.” You decide to stop teasing him and see where this leads. 

“I need ta find her ring.” Silence reigns. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

“You mean, the one that so happens to be dropped into the ocean, never to be seen again? The one where Calypso, herself, has been rumored to destroy? That ring?”

“Yes, that damn ring!” The ghost snarls, banging his fist on the desk, causing documents and books to fall off. “I need to find that ring so I can finally–!”

“That ring has been gone for more than a millenia. Scratch that, it’s not even proven to ever have existed.” You interrupt, uncrossing your arms, leaning brazenly on the rickety oak desk. “And yet, you’re wanting to stake your undead life on this trinket?”

A knife is driven a finger’s width away from your hand. You don’t blink as the captain’s face becomes inches away from your own. “What does a mortal know about being undead?! What do ye know of–” He cuts himself off, a pained look clouding his eyes. You only observe as he breathes in deeply.

“Alright. I’ll help you find it.” His head whips up in surprise. “On several conditions.”

He smirks. “Negotiatin’? You’ve got guts. Name ‘em.”

“One, that you promise not to kill or harm me at any point, especially after our deal is over. Second, once this is all over, you’ll return me back to land. Third and finally, you return my belongings back from your loot.”

The captain mulls over your words, deep in thought. Beads of sweat run down your back. It was a daring bluff, but if you were kept alive this long, it had to be for something!

He runs his hand down his face, groaning. “You drive a steep price. Fine. It’s a deal.”

A crack of an incoming thunderstorm echoes as you both shake hands.

–

You were many things. You were once a privateer. A bartender. Even a librarian at some point, shelving books for hours till the daylight blended to blue darkness.

But never, in your entire life, have you been made to scrub deck floorboards.

The sun beating down upon your aching figure feels like salt on top of many wounds. The biting smell of lye only makes your head spin and fingers burn. 

Worth? Was your worth really amounting to just being a ship’s hands?!

Unbelievable. You end up slipping and nearly falling on your face into the bubbly mess. Left alive, but only to be doing dirty work for ghost pirates. If only the people back home could see you now…

“Shihehehe! Nice work, newbie. Cap’n Leona wants ta see you now, by the way.” The weasley voice! You look up to see squinty gray eyes and sharp teeth, all in a narrow face. There’s something unnerving about the way the ghost leans over you with his smirk, as if he’s a beast ready to devour its prey.

Shaking away the bubbles and your shame, you silently march right past him and into a sturdy chest.

“Oi, watch where ya goin’!” An angry rumble shakes you back to view the familiar face with silver hair and golden eyes that pushed you down back then. You stand your ground as the both of you stare each other down.

“My bad.” The man grunts as you push past him. “What’s their problem?” is the last thing you hear before you’re out of earshot.

You’re in a foul mood by the time you see Leona’s mug, and it seems he is too.

“What’s the hold up on finding the ring?!” He growls. His clothes are a mess more than usual, hair rumpled, and even his desk is near inhabitable. 

You huff. “If I wasn’t bogged down on ship chores perhaps I can work more on that map to get you there, Captain.”

“We’re short on manpower, if ye can’t tell. Also I can’t have ye havin’ enough time to go schemin’ behind me back.” You roll your eyes, walking up to his desk and yanking out a long parchment, causing a rather cute yelp from Leona.

“Hey–!” You unravel the aged parchment, scanning over the red lines and dots that circle the map.

“Wow, you’ve made no progress at all. Do you really wanna find this ring?” The parchment is snatched out of your hands as Leona angrily snarls. 

“Shut yer trap! I’m workin’ on it.” You heave a long sigh, walking over to his desk and starting to arrange the scattered papers and books. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” 

“What does it look like? I’m helping organize your space. Since you’re ‘working’ on it, nothing wrong with making your environment better, no?”

He only grumbles in response, but a strangely comfortable silence falls as you both do your tasks, seemingly in tandem. The sound of the quill scribbling is rather nice on the ears as you put back books and sort papers into neat piles. It’s only when you’ve finally refilled his inkwell that you lean over his shoulder and take a look and whistle.

“Nice work, Captain! Now we’re getting somewhere!” You clapped him cheerily on the back without much thought, making him scoff.

“This much is nothin’, herbivore.” If you looked closer, you would’ve seen how he leant into your palm, eyes softening as his voice resembled one of looking at a lover.

–

The night sky has always been beautiful.

And as the stars twinkle above, you can hear the pirates singing their drinking songs, raucous and loud, but with whatever soul they have left in their rattling ribs. 

Your drinks were pretty popular, once they found out you could make the most killer mixes out of whatever they had in stock. Ruggie, the silver eyed weasley pirate, became your instant friend as he handed out your brews to other eager crewmates.

“Shihehehe! Think of all the profit we could make outta this! Yo, Jack, come get some of this!” The younger man staggers under the weight of his drunk senior throwing himself onto him, grunting as he looks panicked.

When you break away for some peace, you find that your intended spot was already taken.

“Come ‘ere.” You blink, half turned in resignation at finding another stargazing spot. 

“Are ya deaf? Come ‘ere.” Well, it’s not like you can turn down a command. You settle yourself down next to the lazing captain, looking up wistfully.

It’s a perfect clear sky. You wish you had your telescope with you. From here, you can see a bit of the Crux and then bits of the Centauri–

“We’re close to the ring, aren’t we?” You turn your head to observe a still Leona.

“Yes.”

A long pause.

“Why did ye agree to help me? I didn’ even hafta threaten ye all that much.”

You hum, eyes still fixated on the stars. “I could ask ya the same question of why you spared me, Captain.”

Another agonizing beat.

“I thought ya were a fool.” He shifts, shoulders popping and cracking. “All yer crewmates had the sense to run but ye just stood ya ground like ye weren’t up against the famous dread pirate Davy Jones.

I guess I can admire that kind of stupidity, ya know?” 

You remain silent, throat closing in on itself. Silence returns, but you can no longer admire the stars before.

–

The shrine is ruined, as you expected. All that remains is a half buried altar in sand and broken shells and rocks around it. 

“What the hell is this?”

“It is what you’re searching for.”

For someone to have been searching for this ring so desperately, he looks furious, enraged even. He clenches his hand around the silver tightly, hands trembling. Perhaps you should’ve been more sensitive than just plopping the trinket into his hands.

“How do I know yer not just trickin’ me with a fake?!” He roars, the cave around you echoing. Water drips from stalactites, plopping down into puddles surrounding your area. 

You gesture towards the shrine carelessly. “Give it a try. It’s what you’ve been wanting all this time right?”

Leona’s eyes widened. “What do you–” “You wanted to be free, didn’t you?” You tilt your head, annoyed. “Well, this is it. Once you do the ritual with that ring and return it to Calypso, you’ll be free of your curse. Your love.”

“No.”

Your mouth purses at the ghost’s retort.

“I want to return to her.” 

Something in you snaps.

“You left me.” It is not you speaking, but the sea. It wails and groans as the wind howls. “You do not get to choose to come back to me, not now.”

Water rises with your temper as Leona begins to comprehend what is going on. The stalactites tremble, ready to collapse under the pressure the water pounds upon the rocks. You slowly reach out your hand.

“Give me back my ring.” Your eyes glow, your mortal veil falling away like sand. This is your domain, where he left you to rot and cry out for him for many nights, until you could only pick your trembling bones up and out into the world. Stripped of your emotions, left to rage and scream at the sky, as you walked along the seafloor. For many moons, you wondered if you could ever live without him. As year by year passed, you wandered dry land to forget the aching pain in your heart.

You will make him regret ever wronging you.

“No.” Leona steps forward against the sloshing tides, now up to his knees. He bares his fangs.

“I won’t.”

“What are you doing–!? Give me–” You howl in rage as your outstretched arm is snatched and you’re wrenched into his arms, writhing in anger.

“I won’t let you go, ever again.” He whispers in your ear, and the last thing you register is the feeling of metal on your ring finger.

—

“It seems like the ship was ransacked by pirates.” The old man sighs, leaning back in his rocking chair. 

“Really?” The child at his feet frowns. “But that nice sailor told me all sorts of cool stories…”

The old man shakes his head in disapproval. “Loads of tosh. That superstitious lunatic would only fill your head with stuff of fairytales. Forget it.”

The child looks out their window into the horizon, the sunset leaving shadows on the waves crashing onto the shore. He blinks, and for a moment, he swears he sees the silhouette of a large ship in the distance.

He rubs his eyes, and when he opens them again, it’s gone.

“How strange…”

He could've sworn the flag was a skull crossbones.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #my works #another word barf that worked out. nice #a small twist on pirates of carribean but this time reader gets to go crazy #this is rather tame for yandere fic lol

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #fantasy au #fantasy drabble #chrissy cunningham #gareth emerson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things drabble #not proofread we die like my will to exist

[ohsunnyboy]

anything but right | park gunwook ˚₊‧⁺˖

park gunwook has bewitched your heart and enchanted the court. but everyone else seems to know that, except you.

TAGS: slight fantasy au, royalty!au, royal guard!gunwook, royal!reader, gn!reader, forbidden love sorta, mage!gunwook

A/N: quite a big style change bc i wrote this at like 2am, v self indulgy metaphor and imagery barf haha read twice for full effect

WORDS: ~600

Park Gunwook is ash and joy.

He takes your hand and spins you round. Through it all, you can taste it, the burn and heat of his radiance. He dips you and your world lurches to what he sees: the devil on the floor.

He laughs, and it looks like he has swallowed the sun...

It ends like this.

"Care to dance?"

Park Gunwook is dressed like everything righteous in the world. First and foremost, he is a soldier of the royal guard, he is loyal to his people, and he will respect the crown.

And do everything but address you by your title.

"Never." But he smiles and it's a stupid one. You want to order it gone, like a stain on sheets or a mage caught on the streets. Nevertheless, Gunwook's grin persists, and his hand still holds out.

"Even if I ask nicely?" he murmurs, and you can feel it. It burns you from the inside out as he leans low, talks low and promises a high that you'll never forget. There's nothing nice about him apart from his smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he does. Every word a mage can say is a curse, and each one they utter is binding.

Warmth, pure warmth tries to convince you to break down your guard. What took years of lessons and verse to cement, wants to come melting away in a blaze of Gunwook’s aftermath. Something about him calls to you and it trembles.

A breath, a glance, you want to wait and stare into his eyes. Drink him in when you know this is anything but right.

"We can't, please." When you say it, it scalds as you sputter it out. It hurts you both just as badly.

You want to step away. Nothing good will come about this, it burns but it's true. It would be all eyes, greedy and ravenous, on you two. The floor is a deathtrap of swirling dresses and coattails like adder tongues. Gunwook can part this sea with a step onto the floor but clear it entirely with another hand in his. You have seen him do it too many a time; take the hand of another and smile like he had caught prey, before twirling them away into the midnight.

(Envy, you don't want it, but it's envy that tears you to this and leaves you undone.)

It takes a hand and a devil to make a deal. And all the court will know by the time you step onto the floor.

I am the heir¸ you scream inside. You cannot do this, but how can you pull back when the noise in your ears is of a thousand cries. Gunwook steps closer and you have always known it, but you see it now, the pull around him, warping and pulling you in. Maybe it's the magic, latent in the air, when time doesn't freeze but it clambers and slips as you feel it happen.

Gunwook grabs you by the arm and bows.

"Your grace," and it's said with a reverence that awes and completely warms you. "May I please have this dance?" The music crescendos but all you can hear is the crash of your heart.

Days, years, and it feels like centuries, he has passed with you in the disquiet of this damned castle and these rotten people. Gunwook always held you warm and radiant, with a smile that would never put out. Long nights, spent listlessly in your study, or short days when you watched him train, muscles working under the winter sun.

(He never felt the cold, and you never wondered how, only knew why.)

Park Gunwook is a mage—and a knight—and this is forbidden—dreamt about—in every book—fairy tale—you know.

To hell with this.

It begins with ash and joy.

for context about the au click here! feel free to like or reblog if you found it interesting ⭒ masterlist

#metaphors went crazy #it was fun to write lmao #zerobase1 #park gunwook #park gunwook x reader #fantasy au #royalty au #forbidden romance #kpop #kpop x reader #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #gunwook x reader #zb1 gunwook #zerobaseone

[dakotalun]

Want Part 2 | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: PART 2-- Eddie hangs out with someone and you confront him about it. Eddie shows up again with a surprise.

warnings: oral (f. receiving), praise kink, pet names (good boy, baby, ma'am, babe), sub!eddie, fingering, swearing

word count: 2.9k

a/n: been a whole month...whoopsies. But I am coming back with a nice and long fic for y'all. I also have a few things in the works that will be multi parted. I hope y'all enjoy and have an amazing day!! :)

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie's been gone for what feels like hours, I’m completely broken and hurt while he's probably off with Chrissy again. Out of all the things I could've done today, I chose to ruin my relationship. I slowly raise to my feet but upon seeing the plate that Eddie had haphazardly thrown to the counter I start to feel sick. I rush to the bathroom and throw up.

Hours pass by. I'm sitting on the cold bathroom floor, refusing to move. I've thrown up twice since Eddie left me, once when I realized what he had been doing for most of the day and again after throwing up everything that was in my stomach. He still hasn't called or texted me. I really fucked this up. And I have no clue how I'm going to fix it.

My stomach tightens again as I feel another wave of vomit come up. And that's how I spend the night, laying on the bathroom floor occasionally barfing as I cry over Eddie. I can't believe I've made such a big mistake.

I wake up the next morning feeling drained and exhausted. The events from last night are still fresh in my mind and I can't seem to get myself out of bed. I turn over, a sliver of hope that Eddie came home last night. But all I find is the empty, cold space where he should be. I grab my phone from the nightstand and check for any messages, nothing. A sigh leaves my mouth as I come to the full conclusion that I should maybe leave for a while, this was Eddie's trailer first after all.

I peel myself out of the sheets and trudge to the bathroom. Getting back I search the messy closet we share for my duffel bag, finding it under a mess of dirty clothes and an old amp Eddie keeps saying he'll throw out. I pick out some comfortable jeans and a few t-shirts, stuffing them into the bag and slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers.

After grabbing my phone charger and headphones I grab the keys from the counter and walk outside. A cold gust of wind blows in my face as the seasons change from summer to fall. I plug my headphones in but just as I'm about to put them on I hear a loud boom of music coming from the street entrance of the trailer park.

I look up to see none other than Eddie driving his van, music blasting and flowing through the open windows. He's driving with little regard for anything around him, nearly hitting the neighbor's fence before parking. He shuts the van off and hops out, stumbling slightly. Yeah he's clearly drunk, or at least he was at some point since I last saw him. His face is red and slightly swollen, stains line his face from tears.

He finally looks up to see me standing on the porch of the trailer, staring at him a broken look in my eye still. He slowly and hesitently steps towards me.

"Hey," Eddie reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic.

"Hi."

The two of us stand there for a few seconds just looking at each other taking in the events of last night. I'm the first to talk.

"I'm gonna stay with Rob for a few days, just so we can kinda, you know," I don't finish the sentence, too scared to make this a reality.

"Don’t. Please," His eyes are softer now, no anger or resentment behind them. Just pure love and adoration, "I need you here. Please stay."

"Eddie," I look down at my feet, now finding the slowly rotting floor boards more interesting, "Look, I wish I could stay with you. I really do, but after last night. After what you said, what I said. I just don't think it's a good idea."

I don't notice how his face drops, a small frown taking place on his lips. He takes a few more steps closer to me, now at the bottom of the porch.

"Please. I don't want to lose you too. Not after all this time. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." His words break my heart all over again, "You coming into my life was the besy thing to ever happen to me. I wouldn't have ever had the courage to really try and finish high school without you." 

He speaks he walks up the steps, getting closer to me, enough to finally smell the alcohol on him, "If I could go back in time and not hang out with Chrissy I would, in an instant. But I can't," He's finally reached me. He brings his hands out to hold mine, I look at him. Really look at him for the first time since yesterday. I can see how much he means this, and how much he wants me to say I'll stay.

"I don't know if I can trust you anymore Eddie. You lied to me about where you were, and what you were doing. You're still selling even after I told you not to," I scan his face, trying to find something, anything, "And then there's Chrissy-"

"There's nothing going on between me and her, I promise! I really was just catching up with an old friend."

"Then why did you leave?" There it was. The question at the top of my mind ever since he walked out that door, why. If she was just an "old friend" then he shouldn't have felt the need to leave me. To let me cry until I was physically ill.

I pull my hands away from his, missing the warmth of them. I start to head towards my car, needing to be out of here, out of his space, away.

"Wait, please," He turns with me, following, "Babe, I love you with everything I have, and ever will have. You are the only person on this planet for me. You're the only person I can open up to. The only one I can be myself around, I need you."

He's saying all the right things except for one, the one I really need to hear from him. I stop and harshly turn to him, "I know Eddie! I know you love me and need me and all that bullshit but that's not what I asked you! I asked if you want me? If I will be enough for you, if I'm just another girl for you to fuck and pretend to love before you throw me off to the side like trash? So, do. you. want. me?"

My hands are shaking, both from the cold and my anger. I wait for him to answer, wishing he would just say yes so we can go back to normal or no so I can move on and get away from him.

"I- OF COURSE! I want you more than anything!" He runs up to me, placing his hands on my cheeks, shielding them from the cold. "Could you come with me?"

"What?" I’m confused by the sudden change in questions. Where could he possibly want me to go right now?

"Just come with me? I need to- I want to show you something, please," He's begging. Eddie Munson has never begged for anything in his life and yet here he is, practically on his hands and knees for me.

"Fine," I sigh.

His eyes light up, hands falling from my face to interlock with mine. He pulls me to his van, opening the door like he always does. Forever a gentleman. He all but sprints to the driver's side before quickly starting the old van and driving out of the lot he just came into.

We drive to the other side of town, where all the rich kids live. We trun the corner and Eddie looks over to me.

"Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"Close your eyes. It's a surprise," A grin has spread across his face, crinkling the sides of his eyes.

I groan lightly before shutting my eyes, wondering what the hell Eddie is up to now. Not long after, we are parking and Eddie's grabbing my hand to lead me wherever we are at.

I giggle a little as he all but pushes me through a doorway, "Eds what are you doing? Where the fuck are we?"

"You'll see, just keep those pretty little eyes closed alright?" He walks me a few more steps before postioning me in place, "Alright, open."

I open my eyes and am momentarily blinded my the bright florescent overheads before noticing we are standing in front of a door.

"Eddie. What the hell is this?" I turn to look at him, his signature shit eating grin plastered on. He holds up his keys, searches for the right one then opens the door in front of us. He leads me inside, looking at my every facial movement.

"This," He gestures to the large empty living room, "is our new apartment. That is if you're not still mad at me?" His face is soft and sweet, waiting for my answer.

"Eddie this is- how did you? I don't understand," I shake my head slightly trying to understand what's going on here, "What do you mean this is our apartment?"

Eddie stands in front of me blocking my view. He reaches for my hands and holds them in his, taking away some of the anxiety I have right now.

"I've been working extra hours at the auto shop down on Main, and selling a little bit too," My face drops, "I know you told me to stop! But I saw this place a while ago, when Wayne was house hunting. And I just knew it was perfect for us."

He squeezes my hands, pulling me to the large windows on the other side of the room, it overlooks Main Street and all the little shops he knows I love, "Every dollar I’ve earned this past year has gone into a down payment on this place. It took a lot of haggling with Ted on my wages but I finally had enough. Then we had our fight last night," He looks down, ashamed at himself for what happened, "When you asked if I wanted you I don't know what happened but I just knew that now was the time to finally pay for it. So I raced down here and payed the guy, because I want nothing more than to have you in my life forever."

As he's talking, I realize I'm crying, I can't help it, I feel so much joy and pain all at once. Eddie's hands grip tighter, keeping me from falling to the floor, "If you don't want this just tell me, give me the word and I won't bother you again," He places his finger below my chin to make me look at him, his eyes are rimmed with tears just like mine are, "But before you do just let me tell you what I did last night was stupid and I promise I will never do that again. I love you with everything I have and I always will. But if I hurt you too much just tell me and I'll back off."

I can't think straight when he looks at me like that, his big brown doe eyes staring at me with all the love a person could ever hold. I look around the apartment one last time, out the big window to our right, and finally back at Eddie.

"Alright."

"What? Alright? Like you'll live here with me?!" His smile has returned, eyes finally letting the tears fall.

"Yes, Eddie. I'll move in here with you," He picks me up off my feet in a giant bear hug, spinning us in place as he yells in excitement, "On one condition."

He puts me down, hands still around my waist, not letting me move any further away, "Anything. Just name it."

"No more selling. You focus on school and I'll focus on the bills."

"Baby I can't-"

"This won't be for forever Eds. Just until you graduate then we can both pay the bills, just please promise me that?"

"Yes ma'am." He smiles and pulls me into a searing kiss. One that feels like we haven't kissed in years, and won't ever get the chance again. The kiss makes me weak in the knees and I can feel the wetness growing in my pants.

Eddie groans into the kiss before pulling away, "I gotta stop kissing you or else we'll be ruining this place before we even move in."

"And what's so bad about that? It seems like it needs a good cristining don't you?"

"Babe," Eddie's eyes grow wide and look to the side of us, where the floor length windows stand, uncovered, "We can't. What if people see us?"

I walk over to the window and look out onto the street. It's a quiet day, only a few people walking around. "So what? They'd all get to know that you're mine and I'm yours. Forever."

I can feel Eddie's chest on my back as he presses against me, his boner growing slowly, "My naughty girl," His hands go to my hips but before they can travel anywhere I turn around and pin them to his sides.

"That's ma'am to you. Got it?" I don't know where this confidence came from but I’m enjoying it. And so is Eddie, he nods his head vigirously, "Sorry I can't hear you."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's my god boy," Eddie's eyes close at the nickname, his body shivering, "You like that don't you? You like being called my good boy?"

"Mhmm. Yes ma'am."

I stand on my tiptoes to reach Eddie's ear and whisper, "Then get on your knees and show me just how good of a boy you are."

Before I can even blink Eddie is on his knees in front of me, unbuckling my jeans and pulling them down to my ankles. The sight of the wet patch on my panties has me in pieces, slowly losing all composure.

He looks up to me as he hooks his fingers into the waistline of my underwear, "May I?" I nod and he pulls them down, the slick from me making them stick to my folds. He groans and starts kissing up my thighs, towards the place I need him most. His kisses are featherlight, slowly making me dizzy, I wish he would go faster.

"Eddie," I sigh as he finally plants a kiss to my clit, so soft it's almost missed. Once he gets a taste of me he dives right in, licking a stripe up my folds to collect the juices. He moans at the taste, licking me like a dog starved.

I unravel above him, my knees becoming weak and numb. The way he eats me out is heavenly and I’ve never wanted a thing to stop less than right now. Moans and sighs are falling past my lips with each lick and suck of Eddie's mouth. I begin to feel that wonderfully familiar knot tightening and begin tightening around Eddie's tongue. He feels it and moves his ministrations up to my clit and shoves two fingers into my entrance.

"Fuck!" I keel over on top of Eddie, one hand braced on his head and the other on his shoulder, "Just like that. I'm so close Ed." Eddie picks up speed and bends his fingers to reach that spongey spot inside with every thrust of his fingers.

"Come on baby. Cum for me, let me taste you. I missed the way you taste so much. Please come for me, please."

His words send me over the edge, white lights blinding me as the string finally snaps and I’m cumming all over Eddie's face and fingers. He doesn't stop his movements, he pulls me through my orgasm, spewing words of affection and love the entire time. Once he notices that I’m starting to slow down he releases his mouth from me and removes his fingers, eliciting a whine from my lips.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Eddie slowly stands, holding me as my leg strength still haven't come back.

"That's my good boy," I pull him in for a kiss, tasting myself on him. He pushes into me making his erection rub against my exposed thigh. His eyes squeeze shut at the feeling.

"Can I fuck you now?" His eyes are pleading and full of lust.

"Take me home first, Eddie," I look into his eyes and feel nothing but love for this man. The way he treats me with so must love and attention makes me want ot hold on nad never let go, no matter what happens to us.

"We are home sweetheart. This is home now."

"I know. I just love the sound of it," I pull Eddie in for another kiss, this one sweet and gentle. Nothing like the ones from before, only love and adderation fills this, as I try to show him how much I feel for him.

I’m so caught up in the kiss that I don't even notice Eddie dip down quickly and place his hands on my thighs, but before I can question he lifts me up. I instinctivly wrap my legs around his hips and circle his neck with my arms.

"Eddie!" I squeal from my upward position.

"What? I wanna take you to the bedroom, it's got a walk-in closet," He smirks at that last little detail before walking down the hall toward the rest of the apartment.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Twelve.

Thank you so much to everyone for your reads, reblogs and reviews. I appreciate you hugely :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Words - 3,465

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“You okay?” 

She took a moment to assess that, pulling the helmet from her head as she looked over at the clubhouse. “I think so.” 

Guero slid an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “Just remember, everyone here is a friend. Nobody wants to hurt you.” 

“It isn’t that,” she quickly corrected, fluffing her hair as she let out a long breath. “It’s just the last time I came here, I was still so scared and bent out of shape. I hate the term triggering, but that’s kind of what it is.” 

He could understand that stance. The clubhouse was home from home to him, but for Emma, it symbolised a time she was desperately trying to move forward from, being so distrusting and suspicious of the new place and everybody within it, all bar him. And maybe one other person.  

“Tell you what, we gotta head in now, but I know EZ will want you to confirm everything I’ll go in there and tell him. You wait with Lee, and I’ll come get you when we’re done.” It was Monday, Guero calling EZ on Saturday night and informing him he had something to bring to the table, his president telling him he’d schedule something for Monday. It was a lot easier for communications if the guys didn’t all have raging hangovers, as was the norm for a Sunday.  

She nodded, receiving a kiss from him before he pointed her in the direction of the workshop, Emma walking over, looking all around as she did. It was much bigger than she’d noticed when there in the darkened early hours of the morning, bits of bikes littering the immediate space around the workshop. It was very in place with the haphazard collection of scrap that walled their surroundings. 

“Oil hose, we ain’t buddies. Why’d the fuck do you keep leaking, you’re brand new!” she heard Lee muttering, coming to a stop and clearing her throat. “Emma! How you doin’, how’s it going, you good?” 

She smiled at her chirp. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Or at least better than when you last saw me.” 

“I’ll fuckin’ say!” she snorted, clamping off the hose and shaking her head, giving it the double middle finger salute, standing to wipe her dirty hands on a rag. “You look great, sugar. Put on a couple of much needed pounds, I see. You were kinda scary skinny when we met.” 

She remembered back to the shocking sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, nodding as she fiddled with her hair. “Yeah, I was. I never want to see a protein bar again, or I’ll barf. It’s what I survived on in the container.”  

Lee snorted softly, raising her eyebrows. “I can see why. If nothing else than they taste fuckin’ awful. My old man snacks on ‘em and I can’t bear the damned things. Taste vile, like dried dough, stale cookies, man!” She paused for a second, looking between Emma and the bike she was working on, feeling awkward.  

It was entirely mutual.  

They had shared a personal experience together, Lee being the person Emma had trusted enough in a state of fear and anxiety to look after her, yet not knowing one another at all. The elephant in the room that was Emma’s arrival in her life also made it difficult, Lee knowing she was tiptoeing around blurting out that very question. She curbed her usual bluntness, though.  

“Cut looks like it’s healed nicely,” she finally spoke, Emma approaching the bike she was working on, wondering how anyone kept it on two wheels. It was enormous, reminding her of one her dad had when she was five.  

She thumbed her head, nodding. “Yeah, it did. Guero took the stitches out for me last night as they were starting to come undone and push out.” Lee resisted the urge to say that a biker with a cute smile and a steady hand could have still ballsed it up easily, noting it wasn’t a necessary observation when he’d done a good job, Emma continuing. “Do you want a hand with anything?”  

“Nah, don’t want you to ruin your dress, sunshine,” she replied, waving her hand casually. 

Emma smirked, looking down at the beige, pink and blue flowery dress she had on with her new (to her) cowboy boots she’d bought from a thrift store a few days back. “It only cost a couple a’ five bucks, it’s not irreplicable. I need to get to buying some better clothes, actually. Guero has a limit of twenty minutes with being taken shopping before he gets bored, so I don’t want to torture him.” 

A couple a’ five bucks, Lee recognised that syntax instantly. New Jersey, although Emma didn’t have the accent at all. She’d served with troops who hailed from the garden state, and they used the same speech patterns. “He’s just like Obispo.” A slight twitch of her eye confirmed that it was a name she hadn’t heard. “That’s Bishop’s actual name.”  

“Ahh.”  

“Yeah, so me being somewhat of a loner where girlfriends are concerned, I just go by myself to circumvent the fuckin’ sour face and frowning,” she snorted, once again trying the hose only for oil to come dripping out. “Fuck’s sake! Fuckin’ thing! Complete bastard!” she fumed. “So yeah, if you ever wanna come with me, I’d love the company.”  

“I’d really like that. Thanks, Lee,” she smiled, looking down at the oil stopped dripping, Lee clamping the hose off once more. Her eyes took a little tour over the drips, noticing something that perhaps the pretty lady mechanic might’ve missed. “Here, the sealing washer has dropped out. That’s why it’s leaking.” 

Lee rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ll be fuckin’ bent over and poked up the butt with a ten-inch cock!” she exclaimed, Emma snort laughing at her expression, remembering back to the afternoon before where she’d received just that. She wasn’t sure Guero’s cock was quite that long, but it couldn’t be too far off. “Thanks, sugar. That’s a good eye you have, especially knowing what it was. Alrighty, let’s get it back on the hose.”  

“My dad used to do up old bikes. Some he kept; most he sold on. I’d sit in his garage and help him, so I picked stuff up,” she explained, Lee nodding as she listened, refitting the hose with its sealing washer back in and unclamping it. No drips.  

“Yes! Gimme some knucks!” She held her fist out, Emma bumping hers against it with a smile. “I might have to take you up on your offer to help me out. I just got rid of my last guy; he became too preoccupied with the idea of joining the MC.”  

“Oh, was it Bottles?” she asked curiously, Lee shaking her head. 

“Nah. He was a guy they wouldn’t even consider. Didn’t have the mettle, and you fuckin’ gotta have balls to live in this life.” Emma could well imagine. It was the same as people willingly wanting to join the life she’d left behind. Entrenched in the world of the mafia, only the strong survived. Was she strong, she wondered, or just lucky? She’d gotten out alive but not unscathed, so perhaps a little of both. 

“Sounds like what I’m used to,” she replied quietly, picking a crumb of mud from the bike’s exhaust pipe. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Lee chewing the inside of her cheek as she looked between Emma and the Harley a few times. “You want to ask me about it, don’t you?”  

She did. It had been itching at her curiosity, but she didn’t want to be insensitive. “Yeah, but only if that’s cool with you. You can tell me I’m being a nosey ole’ bag if you like, I don’t mind. I mean shit, I dunno if you’ve even fuckin’ said anything to Guero yet. Yeah, yeah ignore me, pay no mind, I’ll shut up.” She made an annoyed noise in her throat, shaking her head of wild, blonde waves. “Poor chick walked up to your fuckin’ workshop all of ten minutes ago and you’re expecting her to spill!” 

Emma sensed a very good person within Lee, someone she could perhaps come to call friend. “It’s okay, I’ll tell you. You got a seat?”  

Two old beer bottle crates were proffered forth, Lee pulling out her cigarettes and lighting up, offering the pack to Emma as they sat down. “Don’t smoke, but thanks. So yeah, I was in that container because I ran away from Rocco Lombardi, who’d been holding me prisoner for nineteen years.”  

She went into her explanation, not quite as detailed as the one she’d given Guero, but all the same, it contained enough details to make Lee’s jaw drop in absolute horror at several points throughout. By the time she was finished, the woman at her side sat with her hands clasped over her mouth, shaking her head. 

“Fuck.” 

“Sums it up nicely, huh?” 

“Fuck!” She dropped her hands in her lap, scoffing in disbelief, her eyes bewildered. “I’m not a hugger, I really ain’t, but Christ, sugar.” Emma felt herself pulled into slender, tattooed arms, Lee stroking her back as she held her. “You’re so brave, enduring all that. Fuckin’ fuck, no wonder you were that way when you first arrived here!” 

She shrugged a little, chewing her thumb as they parted. “I don’t know if I’d call it brave entirely. I kind of froze myself to it, accepted my fate. Like I said too, Marie made it better. At least I had her, but it’s still kicking me in the ass, that I abandoned her.” 

“I understand,” Lee nodded, shaking herself suddenly. “Well no, I don’t, but I get what you mean. Listen, babe, you couldn’t stay for her. She might’ve been mom to you, but you know you didn’t fuckin’ belong there, and what’s more so did she. I bet she completely understands.” 

“Unless she’s worried out of her mind that Rocco offed me and my body got dumped into the sea or similar.”  

“Why not reach out to her? I can bet as soon as Marie reads that message, she’ll be smart enough to delete it. But like, don’t let me dictate. If you wanna just vanish it’s up to you, your call, you make the decision.”  

Emma continued chewing her thumb for a few moments, weighing it up. “I think I might, you know. Think I might. Her and the kids are literally the only things I miss.”  

“At least you’d be able to let her know you’re alright before you move on,” Lee smiled thinly, folding her arms on her thighs and resting her head down. She was tired. Not that she didn’t love her husband to his very bones, but she did wish his horny time wasn’t between one and three in the morning. “About that, though. How will it sit with you, knowing of course that the club deals with the very man you escaped? I mean whatever it is that’s bloomed between you and pretty boy specifically.”  

Of course, it had played on her mind, being right there in the midst of Rocco’s drug runners ever since she arrived. Since things had turned up a gear between her and Guero, though, she’d been too dizzy with happiness to think more on it. Lee’s question was valid, though. “I knew exactly who and what Guero was from the first second I saw him, a member of the MC who ran drugs for Rocco. I’m fine with it. I know it happens, I might’ve come here all shaky and wide eyed, but I’m not a naïve woman.  

“Living in the world I did for so long; I know the deal. I just have to hope that he never comes to visit unexpectedly, but why would he? As long as the guys continue to keep on running his heroin over the border and up to the docks, he won’t have to move his ass to oversee anything.” 

Thinking on her words, Lee had to admit that it made perfect sense, such a standpoint. She’d survived in a world steeped in organised crime; she’d acclimatise perfectly to being involved with an outlaw. With a few layers of her trauma peeled back, it was clear that Emma was intelligent, sensible and strong. Probably a lot stronger than she realised.  

“Well, here’s fuckin’ hoping he stays up on his Staten Island throne, huh?” Just then they were disturbed by the approach of the one Lee had referred to as pretty boy, Emma’s face lighting up. Lee side eyed her with a little knowing grin. She remembered that face, back when she’d begun dating Bishop, often catching her reflection and trying to dial it back. Such had never been attainable. She loved him way too much.  

“Can I steal my girl?”  

Emma thought her heart was about to thump clean out of her chest, hearing him call her that. Lee’s reply was the perfect antidote to her falling too far into enamoured dizziness, though.  

“No, she’s mine now, you can’t have her back! I need her, she has good eyes for things I apparently miss, like fuckin’ sealing washers.” 

Guero cocked his head, looking entertained. “If you actually wore your glasses on your face rather than your head, you’d miss a lot less.”  

“Bah!” she dismissed, standing up and lighting herself another cigarette. “They make me look old!” 

“That’s because you are old.”  

Oh, his smart mouth. How it’d be his downfall. “You know it’s never, ever wise to anger a woman who can tamper with your brake lines and make it look like a manufacturing fault, don’t you, Ortiz?”  

His eyebrows fluttered, his grin widening. “I’ll make sure I never do, then.”  

Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowing as he laughed. “Fuckin’ smart ass. Get outta here!”  

“I was going anyway.” He received a soft elbow from Emma as they began to walk, calling over her shoulder to Lee that she’d see her later. Walking back over to the clubhouse, he could feel Emma’s body beginning to tense at his side, placing a splayed hand across her lower back. “S’okay, mamas. You’re not gonna have a big audience, just EZ and Bish.”  

Those words reassured her, Guero opening the door and gesturing with his hand, Emma entering the clubhouse. The sound of laughing as pool balls clicked and music she recognised as Motorhead (one of Guero’s favourite bands) filtering from the speakers filled the space, the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke just as strong as she’d remembered. God, she could really go to town on cleaning the place, she thought, being steered to her right.  

There at a table sat EZ and Bishop, the former standing with a wide smile. “Well, well. You look a hell of a lot better than you did two weeks ago, sweetheart.” He reached to pat her arm gently, gesturing to the couch opposite where he and the president were sitting.  

He could see the nervousness flickering in her eyes still, of course knowing she wasn’t out of the woods from her ordeal just yet. It’d take a long time, but the improvement she had made was noticeable. She stood a little taller, looked much less anxious even though it of course was still just under the surface with her.  

She moved to take a seat, jumping a little when Gilly loudly celebrated his potting of a ball over at the pool table, her stiffened body relaxing a fraction when Guero took his place at her side. 

“Good to see you looking less spooked, Emma,” EZ acknowledged with a nod and a wide smile. “Again, I apologise for my actions when we first met.” She wasn’t convinced that the apology was at all genuine, something about him giving her a feeling of unease. “Alright, tell us what you know about this alleged trafficking you think we’re gonna be propositioned to get involved with.” 

As if speaking of Marie earlier to Lee had invoked a little of her courage, Emma’s reply was forthright and crisp. “There’s nothing alleged about it. They’ve been dabbling in it for nearly twenty years, snatching children from the arms of their parents, but in recent times they’ve become much shrewder. Runaways, young kids on the streets, those who won’t be so easily noticed as missing, like I was.” 

“And you heard him say in as many words that he planned to begin bringing undocumented kids over?” Bishop asked, his eyes narrowing at the very thought of any other children facing what Emma had suffered. Guero hadn’t gone into huge amounts of detail, but what he had shared with them, it’d been bad enough.  

She scoffed a little, cocking her head with a shy smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “He was never stupid enough to say it in as many words, but I got to know his lingo, his code phrases. Tiny consignment meant kids, and when he called meetings at his home, usually under the guise of an innocent guy's night playing poker, I’d overhear. It was always his intention to begin running the tiny consignment along with golden brown. You’ll get the reference if you’re familiar with the song by The Stranglers.” Of course, she meant the heroin, the song long thought to either be about a girl of Mediterranean heritage, or the pleasure of the narcotic.  

Both men nodded, Emma continuing. “I have no idea when he’s going to put his proposition to you, I’m afraid I can’t be helpful there. At a guess I’d say a while, though. He probably wants to ensure the runs you’re making for him continue to go smoothly before you’ll be expected to begin trafficking children, too. Just know that he will, and if you don’t comply, well.” She paused, gulping. If they didn’t, they’d all be dead, and she’d be back on Staten Island. “I don’t have to spell it out for any of you.” 

“I guess we play the waiting game. Moving heroin is one thing, trafficking kids? We aren’t about that,” EZ spoke, exchanging a glance with Bishop.  

He began nodding, scratching his beard. This was what he’d been waiting for ever since their first meet with Lombardi up in Vegas. Here it was, the other shoe. “Emma, we appreciate your information. If there’s anything we can do for you, just say the word.” 

“There is, actually. I need access to a doctor, but I can’t use my real identity. He’ll be looking for me, and while reason dictates that if he had any clue where I was at all, he’d have found me by now, I want to remain vanished. I don’t know what that’ll look like long term, but I do know that right now I need help from a doctor off the books. Do you guys know of anyone?”  

“I do,” EZ confirmed, “I’ll give him a call and get back to you on it. He can be discreet for a price.”  

She nodded, feeling relieved. “Thank you. One more thing. Can I borrow a prepay, please? Not one you contact Rocco on?”  

Bishop rose from his seat, going behind the bar and shuffling around, coming back with an old Samsung flip phone and handing it over. “Thanks again, baby. Don’t worry about him either, we ain’t gonna advertise that you’re here to nobody. You’re safe with us.”  

She thanked him, taking the phone and flipping it open. Taking a few moments, wondering how to word her message, she rested her hand to Guero’s thigh as Bishop and EZ walked away, placing the phone in her lap and beginning to chew her thumb... 

Marie was cleaning down the counters in the kitchen of her beautiful mansion when her phone dinged, reaching a well-manicured hand across to grab where she’d placed it out of the way in a large, ornate fruit bowl. Opening the message, her eyes widened.  

Safe. Pinky swear. Love you all the world, mom xxx 

“Oh, Mother Mary!” she sobbed, a hand flying to her mouth as her knees buckled, taking her to the floor as she cried tears of pure relief. Pinky swear, love you all the world. Only one other person knew it was their thing, and that was the little girl she’d raised into the young woman she thought of as her own. And she was safe. At last.  

Love you too, Emsy. Will love you forever. Don’t you ever come back. It’s your time to live. I’m so proud of you xxx 

Pressing send, she immediately deleted all evidence of the messages, while over two thousand miles away, her daughter by love rather than blood sobbed in the arms of her boyfriend after reading her reply. 

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #guero x ofc #guero smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc season 5

[ansbobcar]

EP 19 - A trip and a chat away

WORD COUNT. 1656

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

Did anything of note happen during October? Discounting the investigation and invitation to attend his family’s dinner with her partner in convenience, work and romantic affairs, nothing much. There’s no point in focusing on the dinner conversations as they play as before just with another person, namely the wife and child of the most beautiful and handsome man in the whole continent. Though it must be a feat that this man gets fed one of the most fulfilling dinners each night. What a goddess in the craft of cooking. The two could never hope to achieve even a fraction of this as their eyes and taste buds analysed the intricate rich yet balanced and flavourful dishes. Even the Autumn Market wasn’t worth discussing as the magical police handled it completely. If anything, there was just paper work this month and the typical meetings.

With Rinka having more meetings with the Director and being allotted time to try train the Ice Cane’s magical output. Her presence feels more and more like a ghost. Only a flicker in the hallways as he was stuck working. Maybe he should hit Joe’s competition again. It’s been a while, stepping foot into the bar.

“Oh! Here he is!” The old man gestures towards him for an unfamiliar silhouette. Clad in an eyesore of gold, with a high collar and bare chest for show. His eyes and posture lacked the redness and disorientation expected from how much he reeked of strong cologne and tobacco. With a cigarette bud at his fingers.

“The heaviest drinker you’ve met?” The dishwasher blonde pointed at him. He howled humorously at his appearance. “Really, Joe? A four-eyes?”

“Yes, that’s the guy I’ve been telling you about.”

Ah. “Do you want to challenge me in a drinking contest?”

“Duh!” he choked out. “I’ve been waiting for ya to stop by for ages!”

He took a seat besides him as shots were put on the table. “I wonder if I’ve lost touch.”

_ _ _

They both vomited simultaneously around round 43 resulting in a tie. ‘What the fuck.’ This guy drinks as heavy as him. If only they didn’t vomit simultaneously. Without batting another eye, the golden boy took out another stick and lit it with his wand.

“You gotta be joking,” Orter slightly slurred as he propped up his head with a hand. “You just barfed… on the fucking countertop, frat boy.”

“You did too nerd,” the challenger blew out a puff watching as he took out his wand and cleaned up the mess. “Joemama here really wasn’t joking with your weight…” His eye twitched with his lips forming a crooked smile. “You know… that means you gotta fulfil me a dare… right?”

“The same applies to you too,” as he gladly took the mug of water the old geezer had given him. “What’s your fucking name?”

“Just call me Adele, nerd.” Before he clicked his fingers to catch the man’s attention. “Oi oi, you gotta chick or sumthin’?” Why the sudden question? His brass eyes staring at his opponent’s piss yellow ones. “Joemama talked about how you always drank here until the summer rolled round,” nudging the hunched divine visionary’s side. “It’s gotta be a chick isn’t it?”

“Why would you care, Adele?”

“Because I want you to call her over,” he huffed. Eyes filled with mania and thrill. 

“She’s asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can call her if that works for you,” taking out his rabbiphone which received a laugh. “The maker was rabbit obsessed. Give him a break,” as he searched for her name in his contacts and put the call on speaker. After two rings, she had picked up.

“... why are you calling me this late?” she murmured with a yawn.

“I ended up in a draw for a drinking competition with some frat boy called Adele.”

“... what round?”

“Round 43.”

“... ah…” He leaned onto the countertop as he waited for her slower replies to be constructed. “You must’ve met your match other than me… that’s nice to know…”

“She better than you?” Curious about her words.

He scoffed at this wonder. “Not even drunk… right, sunshine?” She hummed over the phone.

“Why? Does he wanna win against me?”

“Hell yeah!”

“... maybe another time…”

“Can you pick up your man? I wanna leave now~”

“... in 3 minutes.”

Heartlessly, he waved a goodbye to the two. “3 out of 3 stars for the experience, man!” Slamming the door behind him before Rinka, in a simple yet sheer night gown with her rustic robe tied like a cape around her neck, opened the door in her bare feet. “Let’s get you back home,” she muttered as she walked outside with his body draped over her.

The wind whispered into her ears as she looked around her.

It’s empty. With no trace of Adele in sight.

“A ghost perhaps?” she uttered before she raised her wand.

“That’s her?”

“...yes.”

_ _ _

It’s November 3rd and she had nearly forgotten about his birthday, almost going into tears at this realisation. She didn’t know what he liked other than working because she also liked working! She nearly got whacked with a sturdy book by Sophina when Ryoh brought up the topic over some tea. “You should spoil him!”

“With what, expensive wine? Champagne? I don’t even know what he drinks!” she moped. What about books? “Have you seen what he’s been reading the past year? Pure stacks of reports!”

“It’s the thought that counts,” her godfather tried to reassure her. “You’ll figure out. Maybe a photo album could work!”

And that’s how she ended up in a bookshop, in some random town about 2 towns away from the Bureau, blankly scanning and flipping through a book she plucked out of curiosity before placing it down. Unless the Desert Cane was into a potions making book, she didn’t really have a point of reference as she placed back the book and quickly found a familiar book.

‘This is the anthology I had to learn for Language Studies,’ she reminisced before a hand reached out to grab it. With a white robe entering her vision and a creepy grin etched in pride, it dispersed as they locked eyes. More dishevelled looking hair, two straight lines and sunglasses. “What are you doing here?”

Without batting an eye, she craned back her head towards the shelf, “Picking out a book for your brother.” Was this town closer to Easton Academy? It’s been a while since she’s gone there.

“Then you’re looking in the wrong section,” he replied, pointing over to a different section, “He’s into encyclopaedias.”

RINKA: Really? I always see him reading short story anthologies…

WIRTH: That’s because he’s addicted to reading

“Atleast. That’s what I know,” he murmured under his breath as she walked over towards the section. Maybe she could ask him a bit more, being brothers had to mean something to an extent. Holding up a book titled, “The encyclopaedia of fruits,” she asked the taller teen for his opinion. “He’s already read it.” Resulting in it’s immediate shelving. 

The only thing she confirmed with his younger brother was his obsession with reading. Nearly 15 solid years of pure unadulterated reading seemed to be his special skill and world record.

‘Should I choose this?’ Enjoying the pictures and interactive sounds included in the book. ‘Or this one?’

“Are you done already?” He snapped her out of her decision making. “I need to pay.”

‘The Music Encyclopedia should do,’ she put back the other one. ‘He needs bigger font anyways.’ Only to gawk at his stack of books piled into a tower and a quarter at the counter, she only had 2 items. “Your semester hasn’t ended yet has it?”

He sighed at her question. “It’s mostly for the honour roll exam.” Of which only 3 have successfully passed the exams.

“That will be 7,500 lond.”

He was short a few coins, he huffed. ‘Now I have to--’ She took out some coins to finish the amount before quickly paying for her own books.

“Where was I?” Attempting to recollect her thoughts. “The books, and then--the honour roll exam,” she seemed elated as they walked in tandem. His towering stack perfectly hovering just behind them. “Wasn’t that over the summer?” It got postponed. “Is that so… I remember the teachers encouraged my to try it since it tests your application and understanding of all concepts of magic and human-made studies like language, medicine, and politics even… but I dropped out of school before I could take it,” she snickered at the memory.

But Wirth, the taller man beside her---years younger than her---was shocked by this fact. How in the world was there a Divine Visionary who didn’t graduate high school?

“When did you drop out?”

“In my 3rd year.”

“Why?” A mix of anger and resentment traced his voice. “You were so close to graduating,” he argued watching she calmly took in her surroundings, noticing the melancholic gaze she had throughout it all.

"This was before the Bureau made it compulsory to complete high school for Divine Visionaries,” she began to half-heartedly explain. “In short, I prioritised and preferred the Bureau over Easton at the time. So I naturally just dropped out." 

To think that his older brother was dating someone so powerful without even completing her magic education, ‘he really is something.’ But that probably means she also caused that rule to get instilled in the first place. “Nobody opposed it either,” she muttered before they came to a halt at a bridge. This was the way back to Easton.

“Oh yeah, thanks for paying the missing amount,” he bowed slightly towards her. “I can carry my stuff from here,” flicking his wand for his totem of supplies. 

“It’s fine. Just make sure to send a letter to your brother for his birthday,” waving him goodbye. As if he wasn’t…

_ _ _ _ _

HAHAHAHAH OKAY GUYS I'm gonna be super frank I just started writing EP 24 (it took be like 3 weeks to finish EP 22) so you will probably get up until EP 23 since I am stressed over school work :D But it's okay, I'll be back to updating by then! (Just won't have the overview updated for 3 weeks - v - )

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS I AM DEAD INSIDE

#mashle #mashle x oc #mashle oc #mashle fanfic idea #orter madl #orter madl x oc #mashle fanfic #i'm sorry for the pop singer jokes and stuff #I SWEAR IT'S IMPORTANT

[lilliths-httyd-blog]

Hi I have an odd question I’ve recently decided to get back into my old personal Viggo lives comic: “Beyond the Horizon” after seeing/reading other’s rtte art, theories, fics, and head canons on it (tbh your VLAU fic was definitely the kicker that made me want to get back into my comic) but I don’t want to seem like I’m copying or stealing ideas so I was wondering if you had any alternate names for Viggo’s Skrill (also some writing tips would be very helpful since I’m very rusty ;-;)

i mean

this is how i named viggo's skrill to begin with. just a random fucking chapter of a fic i started in early 2022 and abandoned until recently. i justified my choice of name because this bitch from black butler is also called beast and i think she's hot

in VLAU that story viggo referenced liking as a child about the boy with the magic eye was a reference to black butler i shit you not. i don't even like black butler anymore i haven't watched it in years and don't plan on watching it again any time soon.

i find using the Wings of Fire format of names really helps when naming dragons. lets look at the character names in WoF: Clay, Sunny, Starflight, Tsunami, Glory, Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, Deathbringer, Winter, Peril, Quibli and Turtle are some of the significant ones. go for something weather/sky/space themed for a skrill. just like that. combine weirder shit for the viking feel like hookfang or stormfly. but then you've also got like skullcrusher and cloudjumper so it's good. and then just words like barf, belch, toothless and grump so that works. steal the name Thunder from NR out of spite.

you can also search for old norse words that we're aware of and just find one that sounds like a name with a nice meaning if you want to be fancy and preppy.

another way i like to do it is steal species names from the httyd books like i'll just open up my copy of the incomplete book of dragons until i find something nice like... stickyworm? no... vorpent? no... toxic nightshade... NIGHTSHADE that would be a good name for a skrill you can use that if you want. doomfang seems like more of a dagur name than a viggo name but thats still a bangin skrill name.

and uhhh writing tips uhhhhh. i mean i don't got nothing tbh. be as self indulgent as you want. not everything has to live up to the standards of Scholars Mate and Choosing to Forget not everything has to be that good. my VLAU is genuinely just 17+(?) chapters of fluff and angst and vigcup being adorable and its just me projecting a bunch of my stupid little OOC headcanons onto my stupid little adhd blorbos. my other fics were either me being angsty, me listening a little too much to the httyd soundtrack, me just fucking daydreaming about random shit, or me going HAHAHAHAHAHA LETS MAKE VIGGO'S LIFE A LIVING HEL. i find inspiration from the most random shit. i took a bath once and when i hopped in my cold little toes burned like fire in the hot water and then i tried this coconut shampoo and now i have an entire WIP based on that one experience. there's no fancy thought or writing process behind it there's no "first drafts" (probably cuz i edit as i go lmao) there's no immaculate planning every little detail of the fic. it's just little magpie me going "oh shiny oh shiny oh shiny oh shiny" and then making a mosaic out of all the shitty pieces of glass i've found and somehow a couple people find the mosaic pretty so i am proud because i worked hard on it. and lemme tell you, writing self indulgent fanfiction where im not trying to please anyone except myself is so much fun like i've literally written about viggo being the twin's cousin and i literally made viggo a soft poetry boi and its just fun. i know some people aren't into that or aren't interested and thats fine they don t have to read it. write for yourself you don't even have to be good at it just do it who cares. thats the best advice i can give. just do whatever the fuck you fucking want

#feel free to use nightshade lol #answered asks #race to the edge #the skrill #viggo's skrill #viggo grimborn #viggo lives au

[detectivejrdude583]

Sunburns and squabbles

chapter 2

AO3

summery: How Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Amanda Rollins, Dominick Carisi, and Grace Muncy all ended up on a family vacation together would never be known.

Actually, it would. It was quite simple really: Elizabeth Stabler forgot to mention the name of her girlfriend.

Or: The story of a vacation with way too many people, with way too many things going on, and oh great now we have to make an ER visit.

Not specific to any one paring, rather several pairings and friendships

words: 2403

Warnings: none

Everyone filed onto the bus, for how many people there were it wasn’t super crowded, and rather quickly everyone had found a spot, Jesse had wanted to sit with her mother, and it was very nearly an issue, but she settled for sitting with Billie in the row across from Sonny and Maureen’s husband, the two of them having apparently used to work together.

Everyone was still moving quite slowly as the sun was just barely up, and there were pillows and blankets from everyone scattered around as every did their best to be as comfortable as possible on their long drive. Amanda claimed a window seat while Olivia got the aisle. The bus was set up so there was one row of seats that would seat two people, and another row that would seat three, so everyone was sitting beside someone other than Maureen who took up an entire three-person row to herself, swearing she was going to sleep the whole time.

“WIFI and password in on the wall, bathroom is in the back, if you get car sick take a barf bag, and we will be stopping periodically but if you need an extra stop for any reason just say so” Elliot instructed standing at the front of the bus, ready to start driving.

Everyone settled in their seats as Dickie and Eli were tasked with passing out breakfast, which was mostly sandwiches and cups of fruit, but fairly quickly everyone had their food and drink, the back of every seat had a flip down table like you would find in an airplane, so there was no trying to awkwardly try and balance your food on the tops of your legs.

Once everyone was settled and ready, they began the long drive, they wouldn’t even be reaching the beach that night, rather they would be stopping and staying in a hotel for the night since Elliot had decided it was better than everyone trying to fly to Florida.

……………………….

Muncy was still a little in shock about the surprise vacation with her boss, she had met Lizzie’s siblings before, and had only heard their father referenced as ‘dad’ so it wasn’t like she had a way to really put it together, a little warning would have been nice though.

Olivia on the other hand wasn’t even thinking about it, and Amanda was finding the whole situation quite amusing.

Elliot could admit that when Lizzie first came out, he did not react well, but he regretted that deeply and him and Lizzie had several conversations about both how he did react and how he should have reacted, and they had moved past it together. And now he found himself on vacation with one of his girlfriend’s subordinates.

Amanda glanced behind their seats to see Jesse curled up against her pillow propped up on the window, fast asleep, her breakfast untouched.

Olivia turned to look at whatever Amanda was “Rough night?”

Amanda turned back to her own food, “Oh yeah, I think the only person who got enough sleep last night was Billie”

“Has Jesse told you anything more?”

“No, we’ve tried, I don’t know what is going on with her” Amanda felt rather inadequate that she couldn’t even figure out what was going on with her own child.       

“I can try talking to her this week if you want” Olivia offered, Jesse may feel more comfortable talk to someone who wasn’t her parent.

“You can try, if you can get anything helpful out of her, I will be forever grateful, I don’t know how she is going to handle going back to school” Amanda didn’t want to think about that when just getting her to go into a different room was a challenge. Billie was going to be attending a summer day camp, and sleep away camp was a possibility for Jesse, but in the end, they ended up not signing her up as she was adamantly opposed to being away from home, Amanda and Sonny tried to explain that there was no changing her mind is she said she didn’t want to go, but she continued to say she wouldn’t want to go, so she did not get signed up. 

Noah was going to dance camp for an entire month, but it was local so other than a couple of overnight events he would be staying at home, it was an auditioned camp but he already gotten in and actually received a scholarship, which while Olivia was fully prepared to pay for the camp it was always nice to save some money.

Eli was home for the summer, doing a pre-college summer program before his senior year, it would get him some college credits before he went off, plus it would spruce up his college applications which he had just begun thinking about.

The drive itself went about as smoothly as it could in the beginning, the bus was filled with mostly quiet conversations as everyone was either waking up or falling asleep.

Amanda was slumped over much like Jesse, drifting in and out of sleep, Maureen stayed true to her word and was curled up in her two seats with quiet snores. Lizzie was also fast asleep, her upper half rested part of the way on top of Muncy who was scrolling through her phone looking like she was reading something, Kathleen who was in the same raw as them had her laptop hooked up to the WIFI and was doing something on that. Noah and Maureen’s two boys were playing a game together on their row. Eli had taken the first opportunity to get some sleep, looking much like when his father was falling asleep in a chair, sitting up straight with his arms crossed and head bowed, Dickie next to him was just staring out of the window. Sonny and Carl- Maureen’s husband- were speaking quietly, Sonny regularly glancing over to keep an eye on his children.

Olivia savored the silence, she knew as the day went on everyone would more than likely be hopped up on sugar and the volume inside the bus would be much higher, but for now she was content with sitting and listening to the quiet existence of her family.

Amanda muttered something under her breath in her sleep and Olivia brushed a hand over her hand to quiet her back down, tucking the blanket tighter around the sleeping woman, smiling when she looked to the row behind them to find Jesse looking almost identical to her mother.

……………………….

The first stop of the drive was made about 3 hours in, the bathroom in the back of the bus made it so they didn’t have to stop as often, but Elliot figured it would be good to let everyone out to stretch their legs, Billie, despite being the youngest one there, was doing remarkably well during the long car ride, now part of that of course was Amanda making great efforts to pack her bag with things that would keep her entertained, but all in all she was doing really well, and didn’t wake up her sister next to her.

When they came to a stop most people who were sleeping stirred, slowly coming back to the world.

“Why are we stopped?” Lizzie groaned sitting up in her seat, rubbing at her eyes.

“We’re just stopped at a park for a little while, we’ll go and stretch out our legs, everyone needs to get off the bus for at least a little while, we’ll start back again in about half an hour” Elliot instructed- truth be told it was very possible that his passengers didn’t need a stop at all, but rather he himself was the one in need of a stop.

Everyone slowly got out from under their blankets and turned off their devices to get off of the bus, most people happy to get out for a moment, Jesse was still fast asleep and Billie was about to reach over to wake her up but Sonny stopped her “I’ll sit with her, there’s no real reason to wake her up”

“I can stay with her it’s alright” Amanda said, she didn’t want to stop Sonny’s fun.

“Why don’t you both go out there, and I will sit with Jesse” Olivia volunteered, Billie tugging on both her parents’ hands in agreement.

“You don’t need to do that Liv” Amanda said.

“It’s no problem, now go and let Billie run around for a bit” Olivia shooed them until they were off the bus and Billie had spotted a playground and was demanding to be pushed around on the tire swing.

Olivia rather than going to sit in her same seat went to sit in the seat Billie was previously occupying, next to Jesse. Sometimes it was almost startling how much Jesse was like her mother, in her mannerisms and her looks, and sometimes Olivia thought she could hear a hint of a southern accent when she was saying certain words.

Jesse stirred in her seat and Olivia could tell she was waking up, as if she could sense the fact her parents were not nearby. Jesse’s eyes opened and darted around looking for someone, but they found Olivia and the panic drained away.

“Hey honey, you get some good sleep” Olivia said softly.

“Where are momma and uncle Sonny?” She asked, not at all answering Olivia’s question.

“We’re stopped at a park for a little while, we’ve been on the road for a little over 3 hours, your parents are out playing with Billie”

Jesse turned to look out her window, confirming that in fact her parents were out with the others.

“Did you not get much sleep last night” Olivia knew the answer, but getting Jesse to talk about it on her own would be more effective than trying to interrogate her.

Jesse shook her head, biting her lip like her mother did when she didn’t want to say something “Momma slept in the bad with me, and uncle Sonny too, they switched”

Olivia nodded but realized rather quickly that Jesse was going to continue talking “Why did they sleep with you, are you feeling alright”

Jesse just shrugged “I wanted them to”

“Why did you want them to honey” Olivia reached out to run a hand over Jesse’s face.

“I don’t want to tell you” Jesse said.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but you know there are certain things you have to tell adults so they can keep you safe”

Jesse nodded, she knew what Olivia was talking about, her had two former SVU detectives for parents “I know, I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to make momma sad”

Olivia wasn’t sure what to make of that “You know you're very important to your mother, and to your uncle Sonny too, I'm sure they want to know what is going on with you, even if it might make them a little side”

Jesse nodded and it was clear she had listened to Olivia’s words, which was progress if nothing else.

“You want to try and eat some of your breakfast?” Olivia encouraged.

Jesse fully sat up in her seat, her breakfast was still sitting on her tray in front of her. She considered both the fruit and the sandwich before ultimately deciding on the sandwich, she ate slumped against Olivia’s side, Olivia having moved one of her arms to wrap around her.

……………………….

Outside everyone else had sort of stayed together, the kids- and some of the adults lets be real- were running around on the playground, being out in the sun was doing wonders to wake everyone up, and the ice cream truck that was parked there certainly played a part as well.

Elliot looked around for his girlfriend, noticing her absence, she wasn’t one to tended to wander, but then again, she might have taken a call for some reason.

“She volunteered to stay in the bus with Jesse” Sonny who was standing nearby noticed his searching.

Elliot nodded, that made sense, he didn’t know about what was going on with Jesse, but he did know from having his own 5 children that if one of them needs sleep and they’re getting it that you do not wake them up unless absolutely necessary.

……………………….

“You're not actually upset about me not telling you Liv would be here are you” Lizzie asked Muncy as she ate her popsicle.

“No, I'm not upset, I mean it definitely threw me off, but I can’t really do anything about it, and she doesn’t seem to be bothered by my being here” Muncy assured her, and it was the truth, she was going to have to find out who Olivia was to Lizzie eventually, she just jumped in headfirst- or was pushed in from behind, depends on how you look at it.

“By the time we actually get where were going you're going to forget she’s your boss” Lizzie was sure of that fact, because she knew Liv, and Muncy knew Captain Benson, the change in mindsets was always clear.

……………………….

Eli pushed the tire swing with Seamus and Billie on it, spinning it fast enough that they were satisfied, but not so fast that their tony bodies were going to go flying off, they were trying to avoid any ER visits during the vacation, and one before they even got to the beach would be setting a new record.

Amanda had a feeling Jesse had woken up in the bus, and since she had already gotten Billie ice cream it was only fair to grab something for her, so Amanda grabbed was she knew was Jesse’s favorite: an orange creamsicle.

She walked onto the bus with it, finding that Jesse was in fact awake, propped up against Olivia not really doing anything. “I got you a creamsicle”

Jesse smiled at her mother, reaching out eagerly to take the treat and Amanda was glad to see she had eaten some of her breakfast. She looked at Olivia to check if there was anything she should know that she got out of Jesse, but her face told her it could wait.

As it turns out the time, they spent at the park was coming to an end and slowly a bunch of sweaty people filed back into the bus ready to continue the long drive.

#law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #bensler #EO #rollisi #olivia benson #elliot stabler #amanda rollins #dominick carisi #sonny carisi #noah porter benson #jesse rollins #billie rollins #maureen stabler #kathleen stabler #elizabeth stabler #richard stabler #eli stabler #grace muncy #svu

[n7viper]

I read "Season of the Hunt drinks" as "Season of the Hunk"

(from my WIP post)

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are no hunks. 😔 Crow doesn't have a single hunky bone in his pathetic twink body, sorry to say.

There is some random end of mission dialogue for the the Wrathborn Hunts that season where Glint laments them having to return to the Tangled Shore, but Crow cuts him off and says that Spider cleared them to hunt for 36 hours, so they have some free time. I was originally going for a traditional “going out for casual drinks” sort of thing, but in the end I was drawn more towards a campfire situation because I think about the Hawkmoon lore wayyyyy too much.

Mae is unaware for some time that Glint knows both who Crow was in a former life and about her own involvement in Uldren's demise. So I want to ruin a chill moment with my guilty little guardian by having her find out about Crow's abuse at the hands of other guardians for an unknown crime he didn't commit. Because that's her fault too, isn't it? She thinks so.

There aren't many words for it right now because in my typical fashion, I like to barf out 150-ish words and then never finish the thing.

“This is nice,” he says, gulping back another swig of the wine. Mae eyes her own bottle and squints. It’s much too sweet for her tastes, but after nearly a year in a desolate corner of her ship’s storage, she’s glad that it’s still drinkable at all. She swirls the bottle and takes another sip. It hasn’t become any less cloying since her last sip, and she frowns. “A friend gave me a case. I’ve got plenty of extras if you want some to take with you.” “No, I mean,” he starts, “I haven’t worked with other guardians before.” “Why not? There are plenty that come out to patrol the Shore.” Crow shifts uneasily and picks at the straps on his boots.

#answering this a day late because I think I spent the whole day being dead #in hindsight I'm pretty sure it was a migraine #it's just dialogue #it's always just dialogue #I think I just realised why I always write action action action type of sentences #partially because I prefer script-writing #but also because I get distracted easily and if I don't write down the basic movements of what I want to happen #I'll never remember what I was doing when I come back #my process is usually dialogue -> action -> fleshing out everything else #the problem is that I get distracted at step 2 and don't continue with what I was doing #eyeing the outlines I have that are 800-1800+ words long... #but not actual mini fics lol #viper pls #maezi

[johnnys-green-pen]

Random E! Thoughts: S6E21 - Limelight

Can’t help but wonder if Johnny’s hoarse because Randy Mantooth lost his voice for one reason or another; probably a godawful cold or something.

Chet being the one who asks what happened to Johnny’s voice

“That man’s gonna drive me crazy” - “That’ll be a short ride” 

Shout-out to Nurse… Snyder, I think? The one with the short hair and the lighter blonde streak. She may be no Sharon or Carol, but she’s cute and it’s nice to see her get more lines than usual in this episode

“[Brice’s] modesty would make a camel barf” - Marco has a way with words

Bellingham trying to flee the camera

“Pass me the mustard... or the ketchup.... or... the red stuff”

Johnny being baffled by Brice haunting him even while reading the sports pages

Morton being really fond of Brice’s TV appearance is a sweet touch

Honestly, I can see Morton and Brice getting along really well. We see hints of it in canon, and it just makes sense

“Brice - even the sound of his name drives me up a wall. Brice! Rice. Mice. Lice. I’m becoming allergic to his name” 

During the babysitter rescue, the TV in the background is running Pong

Which would have been pretty damn new at the time, actually

Apparently there was a home console version released through Sears in very late 1975; Limelight was aired in very early 1977 and thus probably shot in ‘76

This has been your vintage gaming trivia of the day

Johnny asking the dog “what’d you let them do that to you for”

Johnny being surprised that Brice and Morton agree with the way they handled their run

Character detail: Brice and Bellingham are working out of Station 16

Johnny having his five reasonable minutes towards Brice near the end of the episode and Roy calling him out for it

Roy walking off while Johnny’s still talking; poor Johnny

Johnny’s voice being completely shot near the end

Chet patting his head

#emergency! #e!analysis #s6e21

[limestoner]

Threw up on my way to the car after work because the 88°F/31°C. Ultra pleasant. I tried to stop barfing just long enough to get into car and fringe home but like a video from Let’s Game It Out, my nausea would go down but it kept coming back.

So I’m doing little barfs in the grass by the cars and trying to hide it but fortunately it’s there aren’t many people on that side of the building area. Barfing my way along.

MADE IT TO THE CAR! I can sit in glorious air conditioning z . Improving but now from the bowels of hell I feel an MPP [massive projectile puke] coming on. I turn to open the door and get out of the car.

And it’s my BOSS’S BOSS. Walking her dog. I tried to make myself look pleasant in case she saw me because of she noticed me she would know who I am. I don’t think she saw me. She bundled up doggo into the car and drove away soon. I thought I had done well holding it in but I got out of the car, stood up, and immediately emitted a waterfall of chyme confetti. I wanted to find a better pun but:

That’s not what I meant! Anyway, I pivoted 90° and fell forwards into the grass, hidden by my car and hurled and spewed. Everything was fine I was nearing the end of the heaving when I hear a voice — one of our new people saw me and asked if I needed anything or if she could help.

I hope I looked sort of passable as I turns to her and I said, “No, no thanks you. I’m almost done here.” Almost done here? Seriously, WTF. She offered again and to stay with me but I held myself together to thank her again for being so nice but that I would be okay. She left, I did one last hurlah and was fine, drove home, and was finer after a shower, a food, and a lot of water.

I’m so glad that I work at a place that understands me. Not everyone can say that. But I still don’t want to barf on the boss’s boss’s dog or be known as a parking lot barber. I mean parking lot barfer. Puking lot.

Abrupt topic change because I didn’t want to deal with selecting and copying and making a new one.

Soundtracks of head music I made up as a kid:

Anemia the Horrible

Oh horrible cysts on my eyes

For constant waves of pain

For purple bruises on my knee

I’m walking with a cane!

Anemia Anemia

I skinned my other knee

I’m really beat with broken feet

And it burns when I pee

Hallway Chant

OoooooOOuuuuuu… etc. like the chanting in the beginning of this short film that is embedded so deep in my childhood that it’s like this movie was an historical event. I would hum it while walking in places like hallways and paths that have numbers on the doors or walls. Watching the numbers go up or down and my voice going up and down. Soothing. Like drifting along with numbers in space.

Florence Foster Jenkins

The sheaf song I mean head song no no I rhymed some words and cobbled them together over a tune I got somewhere. In this case, that kid jump rope playground tune.

Florence Foster Jenkins fell down the stairs

Florence Foster Jenkins’ head needs repairs

Her mama came home and gave her some spankin’s

How many whacks for Florence Foster Jenkins?

Etc. and maybe you whack the ground hard with the jump rope. Actually, no you don’t becsusr DO NOT gleefully count child abuse. But if you want to look at it like the Cinderella one and I think there’s another one that’s not so nice. So where do you draw the line. Where you draw the line. My line is I love the singer, hate the sin. The singer isn’t just me. It’s anyone who feels pure joy from it.

Lines and sings

Signs and rings

Spines and leads

Loons and sheds

Her husband brought some flowers.

Also, learn about Florence Foster Jenkins. Interesting story. It has been a long time since I heard one of her songs. I am not good with music. I don’t understand how it works. I barely get it enough to be able to have preferences. But. I can tell that something is amiss.

I need to stop this before

#Youtube #hemp #music #let’s game it out #LGIO #why #neurodiversity #neurodivergent #oh yeah #barf

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

[keijifairy]

accidentally hitting your face with a volleyball 〃

♡  miya atsumu, miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi

genre. fluff

-`,✎ ❝ hi! i saw your "accidentally hitting your face with a volleyball" hcs and i was wondering if you could do it for miya twins and sakusa too? have a nice day ♡ ❞ @wansseul

author's note. this took a hot min 😔 but thank you for waiting 💞 miya twins and omi ?? yes please 😽

+ this was a bit different than the first one but i hope u still like it !! 💗

༘ miya atsumu

━ you've met miya atsumu before, and you like to think it was some sort of cute meet you read about, but looking back into it, bumping into him in a hallway at nationals when you only wanted to refill some water bottles was kinda embarrassing, and the sweat dripping down your temple and your hair a hot mess was definitely not cute at all.

━ so you don't think about how he handed you the water bottles with your fingers making contact as he flashes you a stupidly boyish smirk, saying something along the cliche lines of "be careful next time. wouldn't want ya falling for someone else." and his eyes lingering on you a bit longer than you could handle as if you're in some fanfiction.

━ you only bowed your head hastily, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks as you thank him for what seemed to be the millionth time and run away. because you're not going to see him again, right?

━ but then you remember! that handsome man with an awfully familiar black jersey that you made a fool of yourself in front of…is from..inarizaki..and karasuno is competing with them...aaaand he's just standing across the court...

━ you try to erase any memory of your little encounter with him not even fifteen minutes ago, as you busy yourself with your team and hopefully, he doesn't spot you. little did you know though, he didn't miss you cheering for his opponents (well, duh) on the corner of his eye. (how could he miss you? you were a bit obvious with how you sneakily catch glimpes of him, and mayhaps, that inflated his ego a bit).

━ hear him out! he was only trying to impress you, okay? but that didn't really work out as luck didn't seem to be by his (and your) side today as the ball he slams onto the other side of the net doesn't land on the court, but instead on your face.

━ there was an attempt. a for effort!!

━ "nice going, dumbass." osamu deadpans from behind him, some trying to stifle their cackle at their teammate's poor attempt while the rest wince when they hear you groaning in pain.

━ the karasuno boys immediately start rushing towards you, but when they see miya atsumu strolling towards them, they halt in their tracks. (don't be fooled, he's close to melting into a puddle in shame under all that suave exterior).

━ he holds his hand out with concern masked by the same stupidly boyish smirk that's been taking up your mind as you purse your lips and reluctantly take his hand — and you suddenly feel like passing out any minute (the ball in your face may not be the reason).

━ "this must be what fate feels like." 

━ you warily chuckle, letting go of his hand as you clutch your forehead. "if a ball getting slammed into your face is what you call fate, then i guess...yeah."

━ honestly, you're just thankful the cameras aren't rolling. there might be some people recording this ridiculous scene, but you think you're way past the humiliation.

━ "sorry about that." he silently winces as he not so subtly stares at the patch of red on your skin. "let's take ya to a nurse."

━ "it's fine," your shoulders lifted in a shrug, "and no thank you. i don't think my boys would...like that—" you look over your shoulder with a giggle and atsumu follows, only to see karasuno (not so subtly) glaring daggers at him— "and it seems like your game is starting soon anyway."

━ he only chuckles, turning his focus back to you and you feel like shrinking under his gaze. "let's see who you'll be calling your boy later then."

━ you sputter out a laugh in disbelief, as he shoots you a wave with his other hand resting on his hip. "cheer for me, yeah? i'll help ya get that treated once we're done."

━ "this is embarrassing." osamu murmurs to himself in the background with a roll of his eyes.

༘ miya osamu

━ you were only wandering around inarizaki after your own after school club had ended while waiting for your friends, but as you pass by the open doors of the school gymnasium and hear voices that seem to be fighting, you sneakily poke your head in.

━ "why do you look like that???" 

━ "we're twins, dumb fuck."

━ you raise your eyebrow, stifling the chuckle from your throat in amusement. are they the miya twins the girls are obsessively squealing over in their daily hallway gossip? they seem...entertaining. huh, you probably should've paid more attention to your classmates.

━ too busy with their bickering, the twins and the other boys don't seem to notice a random student hanging by the doorway. you should've made your presence known, because it is the volleyball club and that means balls would be flying around the gym.

━ osamu throws a ball in atsumu's direction, but the latter quickly moves out of the way. "hey!"

━ and there comes the ball flying towards you. 

━ "who's the dumbass now?" 

━ "still you."

━ osamu ignores how his twin flips him off as soon as he turns his back on him. he quietly approaches you, reaching out his hand. "sorry, that was meant for that idiot—" he juts his chin at atsumu's direction— "over there." 

━ "it wasn't me who hit them!"

━ you blink, mindlessly clasping your hand with his as he lifts you up. warm. you think to yourself, feeling heat creep up your neck. but he lets go as you get up, and you weirdly come to miss the feeling of his hand with yours.

━ perhaps the ball might have hit your head a bit too hard but you suddenly wonder, did you always have an attractive boy like miya osamu at your school?

━ "you have really pretty eyes," you mumble, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could even process what's happening and certainly loud and clear enough for him to hear. a twinkle of amusement flashes in his eyes and you see a small quirk in his lips. "i must've hit ya harder than i thought."

━ your eyes slowly widen, finally snapping out of whatever love at first sight moment you just experienced. it dart anywhere, anywhere but that growing smirk in his lips that mimick his twin's (but atsumu looks like he's about to have a laughing fit any second).

━ "i...i mean..." stop talking "im to-totally fine! a-okay!!" a-okay???? "don't wor...worry it's uh not that bad… um i think i uh have to g-go n..now…"

━ osamu tilts his head, and you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest because you didn't think he would be this cute !?? UM ?? those girls weren't exaggerating ???

━ "your eyes are really pretty too." 

━ he simply nods his head like he didn't just make your heart race with one simple sentence, turning his back away from you but you don't miss the small smile tugging up his lips.

━ he walks back to the court, with atsumu saying something to him that's surely about what just happened but you don't care, you think.

━ miya osamu just accidentally hit you with a ball and called your eyes pretty. 

━ you purse your lips, trying to suppress a squeal as you slowly walk away and exit the gym.

━ "that was some shitty romcom scene that i almost barfed. i was hoping for more action." atsumu's laughter boomed around the walls, and osamu shut him up with a ball in his face.

༘ sakusa kiyoomi

━ "omi, can you teach me how to spike like you?"

━ "no."

━ you gasp dramatically, clutching your shirt where your heart is supposed to be for extra effect, but kiyoomi doesn't even spare you another glance. "tch, rude."

━ shouyou runs up to you, a ball in his hands and a smile reaching up to his eyes. "i'll teach you, y/n!" 

━ you childishly stick your tongue out towards kiyoomi, who does nothing but continue to ignore you as he fixes his stance in the court. huffing, you turn back to shouyou and mimic his smile. "heh, thanks!"

━ you are the beloved manager of the msby black jackals, and it's kinda like babysitting grown men plus not so secretly crushing on the gorgeous sakusa kiyoomi, but it's a job that you've grown accustomed to and actually enjoy. they're taking a well deserved break, but kiyoomi is still practicing his spikes while shoyou try teaching you how to do them. honestly, were you even listening to him? not really. 

━ you're only nodding wordlessly as your eyes shamelessly focus on how kiyoomi rears his hand back as the ball seems to be falling in the air, slow motion style (and that makes it cooler, you know?). you swear your eyes are sparkling as he flicks his wrist and effortlessly hits the ball.

━ you don't know when you've moved close to where he's spiking, but he only notices you still dazed just as the ball slams into your face.

━ "WAAAH, [Y/N]!!!" the impact of the ball had you dropping to the floor, and you feel your eyes immediately tear up. the boys run towards you, with koutarou placing your head on his lap as he cradles your face in his hands like you're a small child. "where does it hurt???"

━ you wince as he squishes your cheeks on his palms. "my face, duh."

━ "rule one, don't aim for the opponent's face." you look up to see kiyoomi towering over you, and you don't know if you're hallucinating but you swear, his eyes soften.

━ "oh," you jut your bottom lip, sitting properly with koutarou supporting your back, "so that was part of a lesson?"

━ "no." he heaves a sigh. "i'm sorry."

━ you bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to show as you suddenly feel weirdly giddy after getting hit by a ball. nonetheless, you wipe the tears in your eyes with the back of your palms as you bounce back to your feet (well, wobbled, but the boys supported you <3), and you really couldn't hide the smile at this point. "it's okay, omi."

━ his brows knitted in a frown. "...are you okay?"

━ "aw, you do care~"

━ he blinks. once. twice. (the boys don't really do a good job in stifling their laughter). sakusa kiyoomi does care actually, but that's not something he's just going to say right in your face, you know?

━ you playfully roll your eyes, flashing him a thumbs up. "it actually doesn't hurt like i thought it would!" even as you rub your forehead to try and soothe the pain, the smile doesn't leave your face and kiyoomi feels his heart hammering in his chest like some lovesick fool (and that, he definitely isn't!) "well, it does hurt, but i feel energized more than anything!"

━ you're pretty weird, he thinks, but it's quite endearing in a way and it's something that he adores about you. so for now, he swallows the words he's been dying to say, picking up the ball as he looks straight into your eyes. "come on, i'll show you the proper way to spike."

#haikyu!! #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #osamu headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #hq headcanons #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!

[gyllenhaalstories]

HIGH HORSE — QUENTIN BECK

request:  what about fighting with quentin beck for the first time, after he's  been all smug and acting like he doesn't care about the reader and him  realizing after they leave that he needs them in his life real bad - so  he gets off his high horse for once and admits he cares about the  reader?  

warnings: canon divergent quentin (set in an alternate universe where quentin survived far from home), mentions of janice, guterman and a very out of character victoria, throwback scene (including violence, knives and manipulation), 18+, MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 1525

gif credit: winterswake

notes: i was listening to dark horse by katy perry, high horse by kacey musgraves, save your tears by the weeknd and the raya soundtrack? weird mix, but it takes what it takes to get the angst juices flowing. thanks for reading, remember to reblog!

“Next time you want to come up with a lame apology, I’d advise against asking Guterman to write it for you.” You finally broke the silence.

Quentin had just dismissed Janice for the next couple of hours, asking her nicely to change some part of his collar. You overheard her say something about knowing how to make the cape even more dramatic, and that was all the sweet talk Quentin needed to soften up and let her do her job without micromanaging.

You would never create a scene in front of Janice, she was sweet as pie. The fact he treated her with more kindness, patience and respect than he treated you made your blood boil. You blamed it on the piling up, the lies and the secrets. Your hands were deep under the water, in the sink. You toyed with your wedding ring, loosened up by the water.

“I don’t want to have this conservation again,” he scoffed.

“Again? You never let me finish it the first time.”

*~*~*

It was Victoria, another of his evil sidekicks, who had broken the news to you. He did not make it. His plan backfired, some kid had shot him.

You don’t remember much from this day, aside from Quentin insisting you did not follow them to London. Aside from Quentin renting a beautiful villa in Greece, where you were at that very moment. Aside from Quentin’s last promise to meet with you, after he shook the Queen’s hand of course.

You were so hopeful, you wanted nothing more than to see his pretty face. Instead, when you ran to open the door, it was Victoria who gave you one of her compassionate smiles. She was as great a liar as Quentin, as you. You could see right through her, although Quentin refused to believe that she was as twisted as him.

“They won.” She had told you, twisting the blade in the wound. It was just a game for her, for all of them. Except, for you, it was not. It was the life of your husband that was at risk (that part out of his origin story was true, it was the part both Hill and Fury fell for), the life of millions of innocent people who ignored just how far he would go to make his own dreams come true. “He fought like a King, it’s truly unfortunate he had to die a martyr.”

You squinted, taking in Victoria’s features. Her smile was turning into an evil smirk. She had one hand on your shoulder, the other one behind her back and before she could move any further, you shoved her against the wall. You saw a knife sliding on the tiles of the villa’s foyer, you rushed to grab it and point it towards her while you walked backwards, hoping the reach the balcony.

“You made him weak. He lost focus. We would be the masters of the world if you did not walk into his life and ruined everything for us. He was just a pawn for all of us, well, all except Janice.” She escaped her villainesque speech to roll her eyes, facepalming herself at the desperation of Janice to always check up on everybody and take care of everyone. Janice had loved you since the beginning, and it rubbed Victoria the wrong way.

Your back reached the railing of the balcony and you looked over your shoulder. You took a deep breath, your knuckles turning white from your grip on the knife. “I understand you, Vicky.”

The brunette frowned, snapped back to reality.

“He’s the charming type, isn’t he?” You noticed her repress a wave of laughter. “He sweeps you up, promises you to fly on a magic carpet and to show you a whole new world. You always wonder... Does he mean it this time? Is he being honest? Or is he smarter than we think?”

Her traits appeared softer.

"You say he’s a pawn, I say he’s the rook, except his ego gets in the way of the Queen. He’s quick and witty, though, can’t take that away from him. And next thing you know... He pulled out a checkmate behind your back.” You walked towards her, still the knife in hand. “I understand you can’t always get what you want, even if that’s all your heart desires.” You walked around her, so that she was now the one aiming towards the balcony.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Victoria said. “I could have given you the whole world.”

Your jaw clenched. You stepped even closer, so you could feel her breath on her skin. “Too bad I want the whole universe.”

With one swift movement, you pushed her off the railings and watched her as she fell practically in slow motion. You shook your head, deciding to deal with this turn of event later and rushed out of the villa. You could take the car she drove to the house with, and see for yourself if Quentin was the idiot they all believed he was. Dead because of a kid who’s obsessed with spiders? What was next, he would have consented to let Tony name his technology BARF? You knew him better than that. You knew him better than he knew himself.

By the time you reached the door, you heard the splashing sound of Victoria falling in the infinity pool, down there in the courtyard and let out a sigh. The knife, you left it on the bench and let your adrenaline guide you to your final destination.

*~*~*

“I was terrified. I was sick. I was losing hope.”

He looked in your direction, swallowing thickly.

“I waited months to see you, Quentin. To find you.” You washed another dirty glass, paying attention to the noise of his heavy costume squeaking and dragging on the floor while he approached you. You shook your head, and he listened, taking a seat by the kitchen island. “You left without hesitation. You left me without any hesitation.”

“I didn’t leave you.”

You chuckled and turned around, soap dish foam flying around as you spinned on your heels. “Oh, really? Then how come you didn’t even text me where you were hiding? How come you ignored all of my calls? How come you made Janice lie to me? Why were you avoiding me?” You dried your hands with a towel and approached him. “Why were you not searching for me all these months?”

These months he wasted trying to hide from everything, to play dead so that his plan would work out. These months he wasted putting his mission before his emotions first. These months he wasted waiting for the phone to stop ringing while you called him. These months he wasted stepping on his own pride and searching for help, for shelter, which he found in some abandoned head quarters of Stark industries that Tony and him used to build BARF years ago. The months he wasted trying to fix the broken pieces so you could see him as a hero again.

“I know I promised to be there for you through thick and thin, but some promises are meant to be broken.” Your voice cracked and words got stuck in your throat. The sight of his costume disgusted you, but the pain in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“I love you.”

You forgot what these three words sounded like when he spoke them.

“I love you so much. More than this,” his arms gestured to show his costume, then moved around his head, meaning something bigger than the two of you. “All of this. It took me all this time to realize it.”

Checkmate.

“You deserve so much better. You deserve safety. You deserve comfort. You deserve to go out and not wonder if there’s a witch hunt trying to take you down.” He did not dry the single tear that was falling from his eye. “You deserve that stupid married life we always made fun of. The wine, the cardigans, the annoying kids running around. The only spider you should worry about is the one creeping on our ceiling.”

He was wrapping his arms around your waist, you helped him tighten his embrace.

“I’m sorry, for all the pain and danger I put you through.” You knew it came from his heart, and not from one of his rehearsed scenarios and speeches. “I’m sorry I failed you. You need a prince charming on a white horse and I’m just the royal buffoon.”

You chuckled, the sight alone lit up his whole face. “What I need is for you to get down your high horse. Go out, get some sun. Maybe you could shave, wear a cap and sunglasses. No one will recognize you, that’s how it works when you’re an undercover hero, right?”

“I don’t want to play the hero anymore.”

“Then, stop. Use those fish bowls you wear on your head to adopt gold fishes. Use the cape as a carpet. Kill Mysterio so that Quentin can live.”

He leaned against your hand, which was stroking his cheek.

“So that I can live with my Quentin again.”

#quentin beck imagine #quentin beck x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal angst #jake gyllenhaal #quentin beck

[andypantsx3]

LAY LOW (TAKE IT SLOW) | 3 | HAWKS x READER

pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / Reader

length: TBD, est. ~20,000 words / 7 chapters

summary: What even was the right google search for this situation? How do I sew someone back together without passing out? How do I not barf on the pro hero I’m stitching up?

(Or, Hawks’ game of double agent lands him in the shaky hands of one (1) very unequipped English major.)

tags: romance, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, give Hawks a fuckin break pls

warnings: canon typical violence, blood, medical stuff, eventual smut, manga spoilers

Hawks was still deeply asleep by the time you woke up.

His chest rose and fell in slow, heavy breaths, and his body was a long, lean lump under your ugly floral blanket. He still had his feather clenched tightly in his fist, but his face was slack, soft and open with sleep. He probably still wasn’t out of the woods yet, but he seemed to be doing okay, no signs of pain creasing his brow, no hesitant hitch in his breath.

You rose from your nest of blankets on the floor, stretching. It had gotten dark again while you slept, the sun’s final rays peering weakly over the top of the neighboring building to paint your apartment a deep crimson. You shuffled over to your cramped little kitchen and flicked on the light, your stomach growling.

You realized you’d forgotten to feed yourself in the chaos of your morning, and you scarfed down a granola bar with all the voracity of a rabid racoon in the trash. Then, sated, you collected the ingredients you’d need for a more substantial meal. You eventually decided on a soup.

It was nice to do something with your hands, and the familiarity of easy tasks like chopping and stirring soothed you. You kept a vague eye on him, but Hawks didn’t rouse as you worked, and soon you found yourself with a steaming pot full of warm, fragrant broth, thick with vegetables, shreds of chicken, and two mismatched kinds of noodles where you’d stirred in leftover pasta shapes.

You hoped Hawks liked chicken noodle.

Since he was still asleep, you felt a little aimless, so you poured yourself a mug of soup and brought it back over to eat at the coffee table. Then you set up your laptop, rifled around in your backpack for your books, and settled in to do some homework. It seemed kind of a ridiculous thing to be doing when there was a wounded pro hero not two feet away from you, but you were at a loss for what else to do at the moment.

It was strange to be thrust back into the sheltered kind of world that you’d inhabited before last night, but all your old anxieties sank back in with ease. When things were due, what some text or another meant, what your professors would be grading on, and the stomach-churning question that had haunted you all through this semester—what would you do after graduation? Get a job? What kind of job? Go to grad school? But grad school for what, exactly?

You managed to finish up several assignments, shooting them off to your professors along with a message to let them know you’d miss class tomorrow. You were just working your way through a particularly knotty passage in Beowulf when the skin on the back of your neck prickled.

You looked up to find Hawks watching you, those golden eyes unnervingly intent.

Your stomach flipped.

“Hi!” you said, then winced at your own volume. “Uh, I mean—hey. You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Hawks’s mouth twitched into a smile, crooked and unreasonably dashing for someone both injured and swaddled in the earth’s most heinously floral throw.

“Better than you, maybe,” he said. “You looked like you were being tortured just then.”

You looked back down at your book, the nearly incomprehensible twists of Old English staring back up at you. “Maybe a little,” you admitted.

His grin went wider, and you flushed despite yourself. “That bad?”

“Worse than you can imagine,” you said.

The intensity of his golden stare softened a little, and he shifted, stretching slowly and carefully until the pull on his stitches made him wince. He let out a soft exhale.

You groped around for something to say. “Do you maybe want food? I made soup—not sure if you like that?”

Hawks visibly perked up. “God, yes. And a shower?” he asked eagerly.

You nodded, feeling silly. Of course you should have offered him that as well. You’d done your best to get all the blood and grime off of him, but there were places you dared not touch, and there had been nothing to be done for his hair—the feathery, fluffy strands were still dark with sweat and dirt. Of course he’d want a shower.

“Definitely. Can I, um, help you over to the bathroom?” you asked.

Hawks’s fingers twitched minutely over his feather, but he nodded.

You went to him, crouching down to slip an arm under his shoulder, minding his stitches. He was obviously doing his best to bear his own weight, but he was still heavy as you pulled him up and guided him to your tiny bathroom. You left him leaning on the sink while you ran the shower, a scruffy pile of sleek muscle and wrinkled blankets.

“So what’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked conversationally while you dug around under the sink for a towel and a spare toothbrush. You startled and bashed your head on the counter, letting out a grunt. That pet name again.

God, his casual charm might be even more dangerous than his quirk.

“Y/N,” you replied, then slipped back under his arm to help him over to the shower. “You don’t, um, need me to—? While you shower—?” You floundered for the right terms, unwilling to say that you’d help hold him up while he was showering and therefore straight up naked.

Hawks chuckled. “I think I can manage.”

You let out a sigh of relief, and his grin widened. “Great,” you said, “I’ll, uh, be right outside if you need help with anything.”

Hawks watched you for a brief second, his amber eyes finding yours, and then his smile went a little softer. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You ducked out of the bathroom before you could embarrass yourself further. After a couple of moments, you heard the rustle of clothes and blankets hitting the floor and the shnnk of your shower curtain being pulled back. You waited a few minutes. When there was no sign of Hawks falling over and killing himself in your shower, you retreated into your bedroom.

You tried to distract yourself by digging around in your drawers for a change of clothes that would fit him, but it was kind of hard to divert yourself from the realization that he was awake.

Worse news, he was very charming when he was awake. You’d been very unprepared for the whole stitching him back together thing, and the making sure he didn’t die thing, and you did not doubt you would be similarly unprepared for the dealing with him while he was awake thing. You were a book nerd whose confidence with the male gender at large typically depended on a great deal of inebriation. You were not ready to deal with an apartment full of handsome pro hero.

You unearthed a sweatshirt that looked like it might fit him, and an ancient pair of sweatpants that had been too long for you. You tried very hard not to think about the absence of suitable underwear for him.

The water turned off in your bathroom just as you approached. You knocked softly, leaving the clothes just inside the door for him, and then leaned against the wall to wait.

It took him a while but Hawks eventually emerged, and you immediately had to choke back a laugh.

The sweatshirt fit him fine, if slightly tight around his broad shoulders, but the sweatpants were comical. They sagged loosely around his slim hips but stretched horrifically tight around his muscular thighs, and they cut off mid-calf like a pair of middle-aged lady capris. He wore them low, and had clearly done the best he could, but he still kind of looked like he was wearing a diaper with matching leggings.

His smile was a lazy, masculine sort of thing. “It’s a good look, right?”

“Oh my god. It’s definitely something,” you laughed, unable to help yourself. “I’ll go out and grab you actual clothes in the morning.”

He grinned, and let you help him back over to the couch, picking his way gingerly across your living room where he collapsed back onto the couch, breathing out a sigh of relief. You went and fetched him a cup of soup and some water, then piled more of his raisins and juice in front of him.

“You sure know how to spoil a guy, sweetheart,” he said, watching you with one fluffy eyebrow cocked.

You managed to back away without dropping the juice. “I would taste the soup before you make any kind of commentary.”

He didn’t look like he minded it, though. He ate slowly at first, but quickly seemed to realize he was starving, shoveling down spoonfuls so enthusiastically you were afraid he might tear his stitches. He polished off another bowl after that, and scarfed down his raisins and juice too.

“So you’re a student?” he asked conversationally, gesturing to the book you’d abandoned on the coffee table. “You didn’t look like you were reading for pleasure.”

You grinned. “Yeah, last semester of an English major.”

“Nice,” he said. “What do you plan to do after that?”

And there it was again. The dreaded question of what to do after college.

“Uh, I’m not really sure yet,” you admitted. “I’m having trouble finding inspiration. I can’t really seem to narrow in on what I want.”

Hawks nodded, and you felt a little foolish admitting as much to a man who’d already been working professionally four whole years, who’d trained for the better part of his life in order to make a dream happen, and who had seen instant and well-deserved success. And speaking of his hero career...

You watched him carefully as he went back to eating, an uneasy feeling creeping back over you. Now that he was up and coherent, you thought you deserved answers—how exactly had a pro hero come to be bleeding to death on your street, and why was he refusing any sort of medical attention from a professional? What was going on with him?

Hawks seemed to sense your unease. His eyes kept flicking up to yours curiously, and eventually he set the empty raisin box back down on the coffee table, and said, “You want to know what happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded and some of the cheer vanished from his expression. The air in the room went slightly tense as he took a couple of moments to consider things.

Finally, he settled on, “I was ambushed. Some guys got the drop on me.”

Those must be some guys, you thought. Your first question was where they were now, if they hadn’t been in the alley with him. You’d seen the bloodstains all down one wall, he had clearly fallen from somewhere above, so he probably hadn’t been attacked in the alleyway. Which left the question of whether he’d killed the men who’d attacked him, where they were now, and who they even were to start with.

The vagueness of his answer didn’t sit right with you, though, and you realized this addressed none of why he couldn’t go to the hospital.

“You said—they were watching the hospital? Who is they? And how would they know which hospital you were in?” you asked. You imagined a villain organization, even one like the League of Villains couldn’t have a network of contacts so extensive that they could have eyes and ears in every single ward of every single hospital. Not to mention private hero facilities like Hawks’s own agency, or UA. They had Recovery Girl there—why hadn’t he gone there?

Hawks watched you for a long minute with a frankly chilling intensity. There really was something raptorial about his gaze, and you felt a little bit like a mouse being tracked through tall grass.

“They have the resources. That’s all I can say,” he said, something final in his tone.

You hesitated a moment, thoughts churning wildly like the waves of an agitated sea, before you ultimately decided not to press him anymore. It was clear he didn’t want to give you the answers you were looking for. Whether it was because you were a civilian or because he didn’t quite trust you yet, you weren’t sure. But you nodded, and Hawks looked pleased.

Then, it was almost like a mask was pulled back up—the tense atmosphere vanished, and he was leaning forward, smiling and boyish again.

“The soup was amazing—I fucking love chicken,” he said, patting the flat plane of his abdomen. You caught a whiff of your own shampoo as he shifted, and a flash of red from the feather you’d given him, now jammed awkwardly between the cushions.

Which reminded you.

“Um, thanks,” you said absently. “Hey, can you use the rest of your feathers once they’ve seen some action?” You gestured again at the trash bag you’d left to the side of the couch. “I brought all of them back for you but I’m not sure if you can…?”

Hawks looked thrilled. Even as you spoke, some of the longer feathers shifted as if blown by a light breeze, shivering, and freed themselves from the trash bag. They floated over to him, some a little wobbly, and you looked at Hawks to find him concentrating intensely.

“I can, yeah,” he said distractedly. “I’m not up to full capacity, though, so it might be awhile before I can get the little ones back in working order.”

“Well you’re welcome to stay here,” you said, the words out of your mouth before you’d even thought them through. “I mean, if you need to. I...I’m still not really clear on why you can’t go to a hospital, or to your agency or something, but you’re, um, welcome to stay here for a while.”

Hawks’s amber eyes were warm when they found yours again. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He leaned forward then, a calloused hand grasping your own. His touch was soft and warm, gentle where he held you. You stilled, your heart leaping into your mouth, feeling like some idiot gentlewoman of the Victorian era who might swoon at the barest touch of a gentleman.

Which actually might have been understandable if the gentleman looked the way Hawks did.

His steady gaze held yours. “And thank you for saving me, Y/N,” he said. “I don’t know that I would have made it if you hadn’t found me.”

Your entire body went hot and it took everything in you not to jerk your hand out of his grip and curl up like a pillbug. You wanted him to blink, to look away, to do anything that might get his attention off of you.

“It was nothing,” you said. But even as you said it, the words felt wrong in your mouth, like you could sense they weren’t quite right. It was something—something more than just helping an injured pro in a one off patrol accidental.

It was something more than Hawks was telling you, something more than a regular villain group with their fingers in a couple pies.

It was something—and as Hawks released you, leaning back on your couch with another easy smile, you had the feeling you would eventually find out what.

This didn't really do what I wanted it to do, but it was time for me to stop waffling and post!!

I hope you guys liked it!

#hawks x reader #bnha x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #takami keigo #bnha

[g-on-ef]

Prompt; Blitzø not being used to being complimented and being treated respectfully and realizing just how much Striker cares about him

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Anonymous 2: This doesn’t have to be a prompt but just imagine Striker realizing how little respect and praise Blitz gets, that every time he compliments him Blitz instinctively doubts it and actually has to think about it before realizing it’s genuine, which makes Striker heartbroken and absolutely pissed

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A/N: so I decided to combine both of these since they are basically the same ^^ but I hope you guys like what comes out ^^

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Striker doesn't get angry easily, being an assassin had trained him to control his emotions so that they aren't used against him; he's always meditate, reflected on his mistakes so that they won't happen again, and always found therapeutical ways to release his stress so that his emotions never got the best of him.

No, in the past Striker knew how to stay calm and never show anger. Being with Blitz however has changed that.

Seeing Blitz not believe him whenever he compliments him, always giving him a minute or two to decide whether or not Striker means what he's saying always feels like a dagger to his heart.

Whenever they are out on the job Striker ask him what's the plan and he watches with anger and sadness how Blitz stumble over his words and tries to lead them but than clams up and gives Striker the lead.

What brakes his heart even more {and made him want to punch Goiesha or kill him one or the other}

Is whenever he asks Blitz to do something and Blitz hesitates before saying no and than looks afraid that he even had the nerve to say no, Striker would always shrug it off and say okay before leaving.

He'll never forget the first time Blitz said no and Striker shrugged it off.

Blitz looked so shocked and Striker looked at him like he turned into a human.

"What?"

"That's-that's it?"

"That's it what?"

"You're just gonna let it go?"

"Let it go?"

"You're not gonna," he looked at Striker who had a look of patience in his face waiting for Blitz to find his words and tell him what he was feeling.

It shocked Blitz since he's not use to seeing someone wait for him to speak, usually they would interrupt him or toss his feeling aside and talk down on him but here was Striker looking at him, waiting for him to form his thoughts and voice them out loud.

"You're not gonna keep asking till I say yes? Or,"

"Or what?" Striker asked trying to keep the anger outta of his voice.

"Or call me a punk ass bitch for it?"

The two imps stare at one another, one in fear the other in an indifferent stare.

Striker could feel his blood boiling at the thought of Blitz and the mistreatment he faced. With the way he was raised Striker was beginning to wonder if he even had someone who genuinely cared for him.

"Blitz you said no, if you don't want to come with me to the Harvest Moon Festival that's fine your allow to say no if you don't feel comfortable with doing something okay?" He said with patience and reassurance. He didn't want to force Blitz to do something he didn't want to and wanted to show him he genuinely meant it when he said he respected his choice.

Blitz started at him before nodding his head. Blitz also looked like he wanted to say something else.

"Something wrong?"

"Umm...well..."

He mumbles something under his breath.

"What was that amor?"

Hearing the endearment that always made his heart race Blitz spoke again,

"Instead of going to the hillbilly festival would you be willing to stay home with me and Loona and you know...just stay here and spend time as a...family,"

He saw Blitz close his eyes and curl in himself as if waiting for Striker to say no or be mad at the thought of Blitz asking for something.

Striker reminded himself of all his meditation techniques and told himself he was gonna have to read a ton of books to calm the rage that was storming inside him.

"Sure Blitz, I don't mind spending time with you and Loona,"

He smiled and looked relieved before going back to his pompous self

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Strikers biggest challenge was reminding Blitz what an amazing IMP he was.

Seriously he was always impressed with Blitz fighting skills as well as him being able to shot a target from a distance.

And it sucked that Blitz always doubted himself and his skills.

Whenever the two spar or did target practice Striker always praised him and reminded him what a good job he was doing.

It hurt him that his gem of a murderer didn't see what a bad ass he was and Striker had no problem reminding him.

"Nice shooting B,"

Blitz looked at Striker. He was starting to get use to Striker and his compliments. His praises on the other hand...where another thing.

"Umm...thanks..."

Striker just walk over to him he watched as Blitz lifted his gun and shot a little missing the target by a smidge.

"Fuck!"

He looked toward striker who just smiled at him.

He tried again and got the target.

"Not bad,"

"You can say I sucked Striker,"

"Why would I do that, you missed realized your mistake and than corrected it. I think that's admirable for leader. Seeing his mistake and correcting it so it doesn't happen again,"

"You think I'm a good leader?"

"One of the bests."

The two looked at another before Blitz looked away

"This is getting to mushy for me,"

Striker chuckled and watched as Blitz continue his shooting practice and if Blitz had a blush and was looking to impress Striker some more well that was no one's business but his own.

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"You look beautiful doll,"

Blitz jumped as he turned to look at Striker who was leaning against the door frame.

"Umm...what?"

Striker chuckled and said,

"You look beautiful doll,"

Blitz looked at him before he turned to face the mirror he was wearing a cow printed skirt with a white sleeveless crop top and a cute pink cowgirl hat resting on his head.

He didn't know what he was thinking when he bought this outfit other than thinking he'd look good in it.

When he saw himself he thought he looked ridiculous Striker on the other hand thought he looked beautiful.

"I don't know Strikes I feel like a cow just barf all over me," he said trying to shrug off the compliment.

Striker smiled gently, walking over to his partner he wrapped his hands around him and place a soft kiss on his scared face. Something Blitz came to realize that Striker loved doing kissing every scar on his body.

"Well if a cow did puke on you he definitely made you gorgeous,"

Blitz blushed as he elbowed Strikers chest making the cowboy back off a little.

"Your compliments could use a little work,"

He felt Striker take him by his shoulders before turning him around.

"Alright how's this, you look fucking hot and it's taking everything not to bend you over and fuck you,"

Blitz blushed before Striker place a soft kiss on his lips.

The albino IMP pulled back and stroke Blitz's cheek.

"Your beautiful Blitz, even if others don't see it i do and I love everything about you."

Blitz nodded his head before he took Strikers hand and led him to the bed where Blitz put his cowgirl skills to the test.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blitz wasn't use to compliments nor was he use to someone respecting his wishes.

Whenever Striker complimented him he always waited for the back hand comments or for Striker to bring him down after he got a reaction out of him.

Not only that but Blitz always assumed that Striker complimented him because he wanted something in return. But no, he never ask for more than what Blitz was willing to give and was always respectful of Blitz and his boundaries.

He couldn't believe someone like Striker existed someone who wasn't afraid of being affection towards Blitz but also respected his boundaries when he said no.

Still three years being together made Blitz see that what he and Striker had was genuine, that whenever Striker called him all those cute pet names, told him what an amazing leader he was, and always mentioned what a beautiful and deadly assassin he was he meant it.

There was no ultarnattive motive, no backhand comment, no making him at the butt of the joke. No Striker meant every word of and it just made Blitz fall more in love with him.

"Hey beautiful,"

Blitz jumped a little as he watched Striker approach him.

That's another thing he had to get use to Striker calling him beautiful every time he saw him.

"Hey you," okay now he sounded like Loona whenever she tries talking to Vortex.

Striker chuckled.

"What are you doing cooped up in your office?"

"Nothing just umm...nothing,"

Striker hummed before grabbing Blitz by the hand and pulling him off the chair.

"Well hermoso, why don't you and I go grab a bite to eat and spend this hellish day together?"

Blitz smiled as he squeezed Strikers hand,

"Sure why not," the cowboy smiled before he lean forward and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Let's go than,"

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A/N: hope you guys like this one ^^ it's definitely one of my faves ^^ also reminder I'm still taking Striker x Blitz prompts so if y'all have any send them my way ^^

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#blitzo helluva boss #blitzo x striker #striker x blitzo #striker helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva boss blitz #answers asked #anon #anonymous