#and the writers room is trying their best but when the one in charge is the one forcing these opposing stories?

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here friend, hoping that the concert was as spectacular as it looked, even more so in person (if not your outfit definitely was 👍🏽)!! Sorry about not sending an ask earlier, I got sick...again. Anyway I let's talk about 6x11 for a bit because I have a LOT of feeling about it but mostly I'm confused. Nothing about this episode made sense, from the concept itself to its ultimate outcome.

Let's start with concept, which was Buck does "Its a Wonderful Life". So firstly, as I believe you pointed out, Buck isn't exactly comparable to a suicidal business owner. In fact Buck is happier than he's been for awhile, so why this style? His "what if" about Daniel happened last episode after 2 seasons of nothing, he's secure at the firehouse, so what exactly is he questioning? But okay, whatever, this has been on his mind for 2 years (with no indication it was). Buck learns he's happy but others are sad, so he goes back. So ignoring the insult to both Bobby and especially Eddie that their current situation depends entirely on Buck and there weren't other people in their lives that also were looking out for them, how is this progress? First there's the fact that Buck's returning FOR other's to be happy, this is what he does and its not good for him!! Second, the fact that this version of himself isn't particularly appealing to present Buck so he isn't really giving anything up either, so how is this a choice? Finally, Buck himself knows its all in his head!! Its not a given that things will go this way, its just his imagination, logically why put any weight on this at all. The only conflict at the end was does Buck want to live or die and he's not suicidal so its not an actual choice. There is no drama to this and it falls absolutely flat.

So let's say the point is to reconcile him and his parents and understand that it was Daniel's death that made them act the way they did. So are we saying Buck's feelings as a result of that don't matter? Hell, why even have a 2 episode setup in S4 if we're going to magic this issue away with a coma dream (trying to hold back about Chim having a setup with his dad involving similar screentime just for those issues to be waved away as the tertiary plot of someone else's episode)? Wouldn't an actual conversation be more meaningful? The best theory I've seen is that Buck recognizes the significance of his found family while acknowledging he can allow his relationship with his bio family to heal. Great, except the way the episode concluded with the Buckley's being the primary focus doesn't send that message at all. It makes no damn sense!!

And look, as sexy as evil!Buck is, why is he even there. The evil other half trope is to use your insecurities to have you make the "wrong" choice. So how exactly does it work that evil!Buck tries to convince real!Buck that he should stay because "no one needs him", we have half the firefam gone in his dream which immediately negates this idea, AND have Buck say he's going for himself which would hit better if I could figure out when the fuck in the episode he decided this. I mean if its simple I want to live scenario did we need a whole coma dream to get here, Eddie did it over a shortened version of "Carry You". If its to hit the way Eddie's conversation with Ramon hit last season, where the hell is the half season buildup for Buck to realize this?? Sure magic coma dream is fun concept but it fucking needs to make sense and this doesn't!!

Anyway this is way too long and you likely won't have a chance to answer it before next episode but i thought i'd put it out there. Also if your wondering why its one big ask Tumblr stopped letting me post on anon from my phone so I finally made an account (in case you're wondering why someone with a weirdly science specific account is following you).

Hello my friend! The concert was phenomenal! It was like when you run into that super complementary drunk girl in the bar bathroom who tells you your outfit is amazing and you're a beautiful soul, but like, a whole stadium of that. SO many people were dressed up in costume and everyone was just vibing and having a great time. I got a friendship bracelet from a girl who was like, 8. It was a great time even before the show, and then the whole show was just breathtaking! Worth every (considerable) penny. 10/10 would do it again.

I'm sorry you got sick again! 😭 that's no fun! But I definitely wouldn't have gotten to your ask before today anyway since I spent all day yesterday driving and didn't get home until after midnight. But yes, let's talk about 6x11 because "confused" is exactly the right word and how I was feeling and it was soooo frustrating because it kept pulling me out of the episode and then consequently, because of the confusion and messy writing, the emotional beats just didn't land right. And I hate that because Buck learning that he is enough as he is, is SUCH an important theme for him and something I've been wanting for him for a WHILE and I hate that the episode as a whole just...didn't work, and didn't give the firefam care and concern it should have because it prioritized a storyline no one even asked for or wanted and that hasn't come up in like, 2 seasons. (We're supposed to get more firefam care and concern tonight but like, I'm not holding my breath, especially with it being the "fun" part of an otherwise heavy episode.)

"There is no drama to this and it falls absolutely flat" is SUCH a good way to describe this whole thing! Like, right off the bat, Buck knows it's not real so that takes 99.9% of the drama out of the "scary" revelations. No version of an ideal world for Buck includes Bobby being dead, Maddie being trapped with Doug (and unlikely to escape with a child involved and a family that thinks things are fine), and Eddie losing Chris, so there's no question he would even WANT to stay, especially with his parents suddenly being everything he ever wanted anyways! And as you said as well, Buck isn't struggling with his place at work, or his place with the firefam, or even, apparently, with his decision to donate sperm and have a bio child out there in the world that he's just totally cool walking away from! So...what IS he questioning? If they wanted to do an episode about him not feeling like enough why not do it after, say, he tries to donate and it doesn't work, or the family history is a deal breaker, or he decides he can't do this and his old "friend" lashes out at him? OR right after he feels like Bobby doesn't see him as captain material? Put THIS storyline in 6a and it makes far more sense than it does here when Buck is in a really good place! And this was the first of the mixed messages with Buck saying the words he's going back for himself because he's enough as he is, while the whole episode said something entirely different which was that without Buck, no one else would have been happy or even survived, so he's just going back to a world where the people he loves are safe and happy, which is....not really choosing HIMSELF so much as choosing a world were the people he loves are happy.

Which leads to your next point and the next mixed message which was his parents being suddenly the perfect parents in both the coma and real world, while also trying to say that Bobby was his parent and the firefam the ideal family he's always wanted, that are just waiting for him to come back to him. And by trying to do both, the did neither. The firefam got sidelined for the Buckley parents, and the Buckley parents were too busy having to be perfect to actually own up to their mistakes and give their kids a chance to be angry and talk about how they felt! It became a "they're trying so we just need to let it go". Same with Chim and his dad! And all that undercut Buck's choice as well, AND it was his parents only caring about him when he was hurt, all over again! I said in the tags of another post if they had even just dropped hints the past two seasons that Buck was still doing therapy with his parents, and had a good Buck/Maddie convo about how he understands his parents better now and therapy has really helped them communicate better and they understand now how hurt he was by their actions, this would have made more sense, AND given CHIM'S storyline with his dad some time to breathe. Hoping we get more of that but...I doubt it. Again, things that are apparently happening in people's heads but never making it to screen don't count as growth and telling a good story! And it absolutely undermined the WHOLE story of Bobby being a dad for Buck, when he wasn't even in the room for Buck waking up or the one to take Buck home with him when he was released from the hospital, and it undercuts Buck having the family he already wants to NOT see ALL of the firefam taking turns at his bedside to talk to him about what he means to them. (DID WE EVEN GET A BUCKAROO?!)

That conversation at the end between Buck and his mind could have been SOOOO good, because it's something that NEEDED to happen, but the writing was so all over the place all episode and all season that it just didn't land or make sense! Like you said, there's nothing to entice him to stay in the dream world that he already knows is fake and that doesn't have all the people he loves in it, and Buck hasn't been reckless or passively suicidal in ages so it felt like he was fighting so hard for just...no reason. And don't get me started on this being his subconscious and the kind of message that sends about what he thinks about people because while I think it was an oversight by the writers room and not purposeful, surely someone should have caught it? They literally get paid to do this for a living, and NO ONE said anything about that OR about the way the writing contradicted itself the whole damn episode?

I'm just....really disappointed that an episode that COULD have been about the power of found family and the firefam's love for their Buckaroo just for being himself, and about Buck's acceptance of his messy life leading him to the right place and right people and that he doesn't NEED to reconcile with his parents to live a happy life, he can just let that hurt go with some grace and understanding but not a thing he wants or needs to carry for them any longer, turned into...this mess. And the acting was SO GOOD too! Oliver and Peter were just ON IT all episode, and Maddie was making everyone cry, and the brief moments of the rest of the firefam were loaded with the emotion that should have carried the whole episode, but the writing just took the legs right out from under every firefam and Buck focused scene and kept all of it from carrying the weight it should have. And the camera work?! The props?! The flashbacks?! Top tier work! So so good! Literally could have been one of the best episodes ever, but it was just SO let down by the contradictory writing and trying to push this Buckley parents resolution after dropping the plot entirely with no mention for 2 seasons and then pretending that their behavior was normal. And actually having Maddie, Buck, and Chim ALL point out that it WASN'T normal and then just...never following up on that and making it out like THEY are the ones in the wrong! I just...😤😤😤😤😤

ANYWAY

Here's hoping for some good firefam food this week. I wish I could care more about this Wendall storyline but considering we knew he existed for all of 2 minutes before he was killed off I just...don't. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #911 spoilers #firefam #evan buckley #this is a buckley parents hate space #the writing was just SOOOOOO messy! when the set up was RIGHT THERE to emphasize the firefam #i don't think the ratings staying super low the rest of the season will get the show canceled #they're not bad enough for that when fox doesn't have a lot else going on #but it could be interesting and lead to some changes which i can only root for #but i feel bad because the cast and crew don't deserve this #and the writers room is trying their best but when the one in charge is the one forcing these opposing stories? #there's not a lot they can do but try their best to make it work #and by golly they put in the WORK in 6x11 but there's only so far that can go #kr go work on a soap opera and leave our weewoo fam alone forever challenge

[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel it world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I s-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—-“

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She singssongs the last statement.

“I can’t remember. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————-

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fullg by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #beefy!eddie munson #farmer!eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #chocolate button eyes #eddie my baby #older!eddie munson x reader smut #mean!reader #bratty!reader #stranger things au

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 1

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.

Word Count: 4,099k

A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj

Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out. 

Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.

Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit! 

You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour. 

“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch. 

You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge. 

Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help. 

Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.

His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore. 

It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man. 

Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.

“This? This is your boss?” 

Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.

Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them. 

“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.

You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.

You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal. 

You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.

All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss. 

“Close the door,” he said. 

You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract? 

Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick. 

You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this? 

You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down. 

“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice. 

You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.

“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.

“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were. 

If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking. 

You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.

He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said. 

Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”

He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.

You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.

Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you? 

“Count them,” he said. 

Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”

“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.

You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere. 

You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company. 

“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said. 

You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office. 

“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said. 

“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter? 

“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!” 

A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job. 

“Bend over,” he said quietly.

“What?” You asked.

Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.

“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.

Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.

“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now. 

You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed. 

“Count out every mistake,” he said.

Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.

“Count it, or we start over,” he said.

“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening? 

Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it. 

He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.

“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked. 

Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase. 

“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in  your eyes. 

The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract. 

He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this? 

Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?

The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it. 

“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself. 

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face. 

“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back. 

He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing. 

“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.

“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said. 

He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand. 

Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.

Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?

You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.

Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright. 

You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man. 

He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips. 

“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.

How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before. 

His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought. 

“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.

“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily. 

The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

“Tell me you like it then,” he said.

“I like it,” you said.

“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars. 

The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you. 

“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.

“Let it go, then,” he said.

You cried and whimpered as you came. 

“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.

You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said. 

He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you. 

Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.

You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.

Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough. 

He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos. 

“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.

You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.

“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat. 

“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.” 

True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.

It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”

He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something. 

His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.

Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.

However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum. Many times over. 

His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers. 

He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.

You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.

You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.

He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk. 

He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”

You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.

Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #Tre x plus size reader #x Black reader #Tre x Assistant!reader #Tre x assistant reader #Tre x you #Tre x reader #x reader #my writing #Black writers

[shadowdaddies]

Omg it’s been forever!!! I have a request for Azriel!!! I was thinking, the reader is an amazing story teller and is known for being really creative and imaginative. At some point azriel asks if she’s ever thought about writing her stories down and he finds out that she doesn’t know how to write. Maybe juts some fluff with azriel and maybe cassian and rhysand teaching her how to write and like when she does something good azriel gives her kisses or something And then (sorry it’s kinda long) but maybe one day azriel asks her to tell him a story and it leads to some smut maybe… maybe where he’s kissing her neck while she’s telling the story I DONT KNOW I DONT KNOW but it’s been forever and I’m really missing requesting these! Love you 😘

Hey lovely! I've been having a little bit of writer's block lately and this was kind of therapeutic? idk but I had so much fun writing it💜💜

Inspired

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, romantic sex, oral f!receiving

Nyx’s giggle rang through the room as you waved your arms dramatically, acting out the story as you told it. 

“The sorceress’s eyes glowed an eerie green light as she smiled, a snap of her fingers an order for the dragon behind her. Breathing a rush of fire, the creature lunged,” you continued, dragging your mate from his seat as you urged him to act out the scene with you. 

“...And then the handsome knight charged, his sword raised to strike the hideous beast.” Azriel raised his arms as though he were holding a sword. Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “no, Az. You’re the dragon.”

“Right, of course. My mistake, Handsome Knight,” he retorted, spreading his wings as he hunched slightly, his best effort at resembling a dragon. Your arms swung, mimicking the action as you told the story of slaying the mighty dragon, Azriel clutching the imaginary sword in his chest as he made a dramatic heaving noise, collapsing to the floor.

“What is going on in here?” Feyre teased, an amused smile on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe, hand on her hip. “Nyx, it’s time for bed,” she chided the pouting toddler, reaching a hand to carry him to his room.

“But momma, Auntie’s story!” Nyx protested, the deep frown on his face emphasizing the boy’s chubby cheeks.

“Yea, Feyre. What about the story?” Cassian protested, his eyes wild as he looked to you and Nesta for backup. 

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully as she leaned into Cassian’s side. “I think we can wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story,” she promised, silvery eyes twinkling as she gave you a knowing smile. 

You turned to your nephew, giving him a kiss on the cheek goodnight as you promised to continue the story - and make sure Azriel knew his role better - tomorrow night. With another grateful smile, Feyre lifted Nyx into her arms, the boy yawning as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder.

You turned to see Azriel still sitting on the floor, laughter bubbling up as you took his hands in yours. “You can get up now, dragon,” you purred, a gasp leaving you as he stood swiftly, scooping you into his lap as your mate settled back on the couch. 

“Where do you come up with these stories? They’re too good to just be bedtime stories for Nyx. I would read it in a book,” Cassian noted, flashing you a charming grin as he sipped his drink.

With a nervous laugh, you leaned into Azriel’s side, shaking your head as blush crept over your cheeks at the compliment. Nesta leaned forward, that warrior’s determination shining through her sharp features. “Really, you should try writing. I know some of the priestesses in the library have great resources and would be happy to help you... And so would I.”

Azriel’a arm wrapped around you, giving an encouraging squeeze as his lips grazed your temple. You turned to your mate to see hazel eyes shining with admiration as he grinned at you. “What do you think?” you breathed, nervously biting your lip as you awaited an answer.

“I think that you are the most beautiful, creative, talented, and kind person I have ever met, and I know many others would pay to hear what you have to say,” he murmured, finger crooking against your jaw as his lips pressed softly against yours. 

“All right,” you whispered, unable to hold back the bright smile on your features as you turned to Nesta. “I would really appreciate the help, if you wouldn’t mind.”

WIth that, you made plans to meet Nesta in the library the next day, starting a pattern of working with the priestesses and using the House’s resources as you learned the tedious process of writing a book. 

~~~

Exhausted, you trudged up the endless flights of stairs to your room, oblivious to your mate seated by the fire, who watched as you tossed your books, notes, and half-worked manuscript onto the nightstand. With a dramatic sigh, you flopped onto the mattress, burying your face in the pillows as you willed your head to stop pounding.

The bed dipped next to you, the familiar scent of cedar and rain instantly calming as Azriel’s hand touched your shoulder. “Everything alright, love?” he murmured, voice deep and soothing. 

You practically melted into his touch, reveling in the feel of his warmth as you rolled onto your back to face him. A scarred hand cupped your cheek, tenderness in Az’s eyes as he waited for your answer. “I’m just tired, Az,” you sighed, gesturing towards the daunting stack of papers next to you. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to plan out a story. It’s so much harder to actually write everything down, I don’t know if I can do it,” you admitted, tears springing to your eyes as you finally felt the overwhelming weight of your work.

“Hey, hey,” Azriel soothed, lifting you so that your back laid against his chest as his muscular arms wound around your waist. “You don’t need to do this if it doesn’t bring you joy, my love. I love you and your stories, no matter how you decide to express your creativity.”

Laying back against his chest, you leaned up to press a lingering kiss on Azriel’s cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I do want to write. I feel so inspired, I just don’t know how to articulate it on paper, if that makes sense.”

Azriel hummed, his hands idly playing with yours as he thought. “What are you inspired by, love? What is driving your story?” You blushed, dipping your chin slightly as you curled further into your mate.

“My main character - he inspires me,” you admitted. “He is kind, thoughtful, willing to do anything for those he loves,��� you paused, leaning your head against Azriel’s neck as you reached up to run a hand through his hair. “He’s devilishly handsome - with hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair. He makes everyone in his life feel special, but he is the most special person I have ever met,” you spoke, barely above a whisper as you pressed a kiss to his throat.

Waves of onyx hair brushed your cheek as Azriel’s head dipped, working slow kisses down the side of your face and neck before he settled on your shoulder, humming against the skin. “Why would you want to write about such a person?” he murmured, voice a low rumble as his hands slid down your body, fingertips skating lightly over your thighs, up to the waistband of your pants.

Breaths turning shallow, your mind reeled as you focused on the question. “Because... You make me feel a joy that I want others to see. You give me hope that I want others to have. You give me love that I want others to know is possible.”

Azriel’s hands continued teasing, feather-light touches across your stomach, dipping below the band of your pants as you bit back a moan. “Maybe, if I refresh that feeling, would you be able to ‘articulate’ it in writing?”

A knowing grin spread across your face, eyes glinting with mischief as you looked up at your mate. “I suppose that might help,” you teased, nipping at the skin of his jaw. 

Azriel wasted no time, his deft fingers sliding under the waistband of your clothes, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he felt how wet you were. One finger slid, tortuously slowly, through your folds, gathering your slick as he lightly brushed your clit.

Head thrown back against his shoulder, you ground your hips up against his hand, desperate for friction. “Az, please,” you begged, already breathless and craving his touch. A soft laugh left his lips as cool wisps of shadow twined through the fabric of your pants, pulling them down to expose your lower body to the open air of the room.

A soft mewl escaped you as the soft tendrils wound their way back up your legs, spreading them open for their master as he continued his slow, intentional movements against your core. “How do you want me, love?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his tone.

“Your hands, your tongue, please. All of you, Azriel. I need all of you,” you begged, fighting against his hold as your need overwhelmed your other senses. Without another word, Azriel lifted you from his chest, laying your head against the pillows as he shifted to lay between your legs.

“Don’t think, just feel, my love,” Azriel murmured, his warm breath fanning over your clit before licking a stripe up your center. You gasped, back arching as your mate pinned your hips down, spreading your legs open for access. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in rhythm with the finger that curled teasingly at your entrance. 

Head tossing back and forth against the sheets, you babbled incoherent pleas for more, a pleasurable gasp leaving you as he pushed his finger in, curling in tandem with his alternating sucks and kitten licks on your clit. He added another finger, the coil inside of you building as you neared the edge. 

Azriel hummed his praise against your writhing body, bringing your attention to the male before you. Your mate, who knew you better than anyone, made you feel like no one ever could from the day you met. As the coil inside of you snapped, you were taken back to your first time with Azriel - the euphoria of finding the only person meant for you, and joining with him as one. 

You came down from your high to see Azriel looking at you with an awed expression, his hand moving to wipe tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to his palm, guiding Azriel to lay on his back as you straddled his hips.

“I will always have inspiration, because I have known you,” you whispered, lowering yourself onto his length. The both of you sat there for a moment, basking in the tenderness of being one, when the idea struck.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to reach for the parchment and pen on your bedside table, scribbling down your thoughts before they could be forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Azriel breathed out on a laugh, watching as you bit your lip, sheer focus and determination on your face while you wrote.

“I know the next part of my story,” you responded, a proud smile on your features as you set the paper aside. “Now where were we?”

Azriel laughed, a full, rich sound as he flipped you onto your back, lining up at your entrance as he pressed kisses all over your face. “You were meant to be a writer,” he teased, amusement clear in his gaze as he eased into you. Pure love and admiration flowed each way down the bond - the beginning of one of many long nights finding joy and inspiration in each others’ presence.

banners by saradika

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel x reader smut #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar reader fic #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader fluff #azriel acotar x reader #acotar azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #cassian #nesta acotar #nyx archeron #feyre archeron #acotar reader imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader smut #acotar x y/n

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

You’re probably not drunk anymore but if your still taking “drunk prompts”, would you think of writing a scene where Harry sees Ginny chatting with Viktor Krum (after a grueling quidditch match) and he’s all “big bloke and jealous “

Take care, and your co-writer is adorable

@takearisk-ao3

not me trying to rid of three prompts (that have been in my ask box for a year) in one. happy drunk prompts night

He watched her fall and thought he was going to be the one to die.

While the crowd around him reacted to the illegal hit the Ballycastle Bats' beater made, Harry felt his heart fall along with Ginny as she slipped off of her broom.

One, two, three feet she fell.

Admittedly, she was quite close to the ground when the bludger hit the tail of her broom, but that didn't make Harry feel much better. Her back hit the ground first, her feet and then her head hit the grass shortly after.

The crowd oohed, drowning out the sound of Ginny's string of curses she shouted at the whole Ballycastle team. In one swift motion, Ginny swung her leg back over her broom and raced off. With an outstretched hand, she intercepted the throw between the Ballycastle chasers. She threw the quaffle to her teammate and raced off to the hoops.

Harry watched closely monitoring each move.

She was slightly out of formation on the Hawkshead formation. Was she concussed?

Was that a flash of her read hair on her forehead or was that blood?

She scored that goal with her left arm not her right, did she hit her right arm when she hit the ground?

The match ended 47 minutes and 31 seconds later, not that Harry was counting, when the Harpies seeker caught the snitch while the Ballycastle seeker was looking in the opposite direction.

Harpies win, 370 to 180.

Ginny and her teammates practically danced off the field, hooting and hollering at their win, but Harry's anxiety still did not subside. He knew she would be escorted back to the Healer's room as protical since she was knocked off her broom during a match. He just hoped she was actually okay.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd, making his way to the back. It was one of the few times he was thankful to be so recognizable. He waved to the Harpies security guard as he let him in the back of the stadium.

Down the hallway from Healer's room, Harry could hear Ginny laugh. Good. Harry thought, calming some of his anxiety. If Ginny was laughing that meant she couldn't be that badly hurt.

Pushing open the door, Harry stopped short, realizing the source of Ginny's laughter.

Victor Krum.

Harry had never understood his best friend any more than in that moment because why was famous Quidditch star, Triwizard Tournament competitor, Victor Krum, talking with Harry's girlfriend?

Why was famous Quidditch star, Triwizard Tournament comeptitor, Victor Krum, making his girlfriend laugh?

Why did Ginny laugh at something famous Quidditch star, Triwizard Tournament comeptitor, Victor Krum, say?

"You look quite unsettled over there, Potter," Ginny said grinning at him.

"Harry! It is so good to see you again," Krum said in his stupid accent. "I was hoping I you would be here today." Krum strolled to Harry with an outstretched hand.

Harry crossed his arms, "Why wouldn't I be at my girlfriend's match?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Don't worry about my boyfriend's attitude, Victor, he gets all grumpy whenever I fall off of my broom."

Victor!? Harry gets called Potter, but Krum get's called Victor?

"I do not get grumpy," But Harry's voice faded at the end of his sentence with Ginny's pointed look at him, his hand finally meeting Krum's in a handshake.

"I vas at the game because I was told to scout out Ballycastle's beaters," Krum grimmaced, "vas not impressed."

Harry begrudgingly agreed.

"But, I was very impressed with Ginny over here. That Chelmondiston Charge you pulled off right after intercepting the quaffle vas spectacular."

"She is spectacular," Harry stated, matter-of-factly.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"I just wanted to compliment her and talk her out of ever joining England's professional team. Bulgaria doesn't need anymore competition," Krum winked at Harry like it was some inside joke. "Vell, I get out of both of your hair. Tell Fleur ello from me when you see her next."

The door clicked shut after Krum, and silence filled the room for just a moment before Ginny burst out into laughter.

"You are so jealous!" She accused him.

"Am not!" Harry lied.

"I cannot wait to talk about Hermione about this," Ginny grinned.

#drunk prompts #let me pour another glass of wine #hinny #this took way longer to write than normal for me lol #i made a tik tok in the middle of writing this lol

[maaarijaaa]

We meet again ✿ Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes x Detective!Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: After your father stepped down as a detective, you decided to take over and got on your first case. What you did not expect is a letter standing on your front porch from a person you wanted to leave in the past…

Warning: smut, nsfw 18+, murder

A/N: Hello everyone! I have not written a smut in a long time so if this is bad just let me know. English is not my first language, so let me know if I made any mistakes. I do not allow for my work to be posted or translated on this or any other platform. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Ever since you were little you were introduced to the world of the detectives. Your father was a detective him self and was also, your biggest role model.

You two have traveled all around the world to solve cases together. You were his little Nancy Drew.

As years went by your father became old and decided to step down, meaning that you would have to take over his job. You were excited at first, until you got on your first case.

There has been a murder in a neighborhood not that far from yours. The person who was murdered was a young woman, probably in her late 20s. Her body was found by her sister who came home late at night that day. Her sister owns one of the most popular bookshops in town and that day, the bookshop held a small event, celebrating the success of a new book that was recently published by a writer that was from the town. The book became really popular not just in your town, but also across the country so they had a reason to celebrate.

Her sister sent you a letter asking you if you could solve the murder and you agreed.

Solving murder cases were not your thing since your father never allowed you to help him whenever he was asked to solve a murder.

But your father has stepped down, and now you are the one in charge so you have to try your best.

The woman’s sister invited you over to their house so you could investigate.

The living room where her body was found looked pretty normal to you and did not see anything suspicious.

“Was your sister at the event too?” You asked the woman.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she spoke. She was still in shock after finding her sister’s body so you understood why she took her time.

“She was, but only for a short amount of time. She said that she was not feeling well and wanted to go home. I told her that we can go together since its dark and could be dangerous but she did not want me to leave since she that the event was important to me. After a hour or two I kinda felt that something was wrong and was scarred that something might have happened to her so I left to see if she was doing okay. I was first relieved to see that the lights were on but that quickly changed when I saw her lying lifeless on the ground.”

You noted every detail before asking her other questions.

“Did she act differently at the event? Was she maybe scared or maybe uncomfortable?”

The woman took her time since she tried to remember the way her sister acted.

“What I remember is that she was a little bit scared, like she saw a ghost or something but I brushed it off since she was often scared or shy whenever she was crowded by the people. What surprised me the most is that she requested to walk home alone at such late hours. She never went out when it was dark unless there was someone with her, but I thought that she was brave enough to alone so I let her. I also saw that she was walking fast, like as if she was running from someone.”

You noted every important detail about the night.

You asked the woman if she had any scars. Anything that would prove that she was murdered.

She told you that she had bruises on her body, mostly on her neck. She also told you that police and doctors believe that the killer held their hands on her neck until her last breath. There were a few scars that were caused by a sharp object that could have been a knife or other things like glass.

That’s everything she knew since they are still trying to find the cause of death before she is laid to rest.

You went around the house to see if the killer left something or dropped something. You found nothing.

Her sister let you search in her room.

You checked everywhere until you opened a box that was hidden under her bed. The box was full of letters.

All the letters she has received were from a guy named Connor Smith.

Most of them were love letters where he declared his love to her, until you opened the letter that were sent to her only a moth before she was killed.

You could definitely see that his love turned into obsession. He told her that she will always belong to him. That he was the only man she was allowed to love. He also wrote her that she should stop seeing the man she was out with once, which meant that he was probably stalking her.

You exited the room so that you could talk to her sister.

“Do you know if a man named Connor Smith was at the event?”

The woman looked at you with a weird look on her face.

“Yes, Connor used to work at the bookshop until two weeks ago. I invited him since he help us a lot with the bookshop.”

You noted that down.

“Did you maybe see him around your sister that night?”

“I am just asking because he sent your sisters some letters so I need to know. Was Connor around your sister that night?”

“Yes he actually was. They talked about something and maybe a half an hour or so she asked if she could go home since she did not feel well.”

You noted that down too and told her that you will come back in a few days. You also told her that she should tell you if she found something suspicious or any new clues.

You thanked her for inviting you over and left her home.

After leaving their home, you stopped at the local marked and bought some groceries since your dad requested it in the morning before you left.

You brought everything that your father requested and left. When you arrived to your house, you saw that there was a letter at the door.

Ever since you got this case, people would not stop asking you about it. They wanted to know everything. You have received letter from people in town who wanted to be part of the case. You even received letters from the local newspaper with dozens of questions.

Who did it? What clues did you find? Any suspects?

All you wanted was to be left alone and solve this case in peace.

Before you opened the letter, you stored the groceries that you brought and made your father some lunch since he was starving. Poor man.

Leaving your father to eat in peace, you went to your room and opened the letter.

I heard that you just got your first case

If you need any help, I am there for you

S.H

You instantly rolled your eyes when you saw who sent you the letter.

Sherlock Holmes, one of the most successful and most popular detectives in the world. He was smart and intelligent, knew several languages and every case he got, was solved.

But you knew Sherlock way before he even became a detective.

You two used to be lovers until he became a detective and made it his priority.

You did not care at first. You were happy that he was doing something that he loves.

Until, he started to travel around the world to solve cases.

During that time you would miss him a lot and wrote him letters daily. He never responded to one of them.

After he came back from Spain, solving a case that involved kidnapping, he admitted cheating on you with other woman so he could get some information out of her since she was one of the main suspects.

He told you that it meant nothing to him but you did not believe him, so you left him.

And after five years of no contact, he sends you a letter saying that he will help you with the case. What an idiot, you thought.

You ignored his letter and went off with your day.

You went down to the town center to visit your favorite cafe, hoping that you could relax and read the notes you took while visiting the victim’s sister.

You sat down at your favorite spot, outside since it was a nice day and the sun was shining, and ordered some coffee and your favorite cookies.

You were so lost in the notes you took that you did not notice the person standing behind you.

“Well, we meet again sweetheart.” He spoke softly

That made you jump since you did not know that he was behind you. You even realized that others were staring at you.

Turning around to see the figure behind you, you could not help but to roll your eyes again.

It was Sherlock.

He took the seat next to yours and sat down, meanwhile you started reading your notes again, ignoring Sherlock

A few seconds went by before he spoke again.

“Are you going to ignore me again”

You did not say anything as you still read your notes.

“Did you receive my letter” he spoke

You looked up at him

“I did” you spoke back

“I meant everything I wrote in the letter. I am willing to help you with the case if you just let me…” He could not even finish the sentence because you cut him off.

“I do not need your help. I am capable of solving it alone.” You spoke harshly

Sherlock understood why you were like this since he has hurt you a lot, but he really wants to help you.

The lady who works at the cafe, came with you order.

You were about to pay her, but Sherlock was faster.

He payed your order and ordered some coffee too. The lady noted down Sherlocks order and left.

“What do you know about the case?” He asked you.

You knew that he will not give up so you just answered him.

“Well I visited her sister today. She is terrified and wants answers to why could someone do this to her sister. I asked her a few questions about that night. She told me that her sister did act weird and that she was scarred. She described it as she has seen a ghost. She later on leaves the event at around midnight, saying that she does not feel well. Her sister feels like something is wrong and goes home to check up on her only to find her dead in the living room. Her body has both bruises and scars. Most of the bruises were on her neck and doctors and the police believe that the killer killed her by pressing their hands on her neck until her last breath. The cuts were caused by a sharp object. Could have been a knife or glass but I did not find anything suspicious until I checked her room where I found letters from a man named Connor Smith. He has sent her too many love letters over the years. The last letters she received from him was a month ago. In the letters, it said that she should stay away from the man that she was seeing because he did not deserve her. I suspect that Connor was stalking her too, but I can not say that its clear that he did. I asked her sister if Connor was at the event, which she said that he was and that they had a conversation. Shortly after their conversation, her sister came up to her, asking her if she could go home since she did not feel well.”

“So, this Connor is the…” Sherlock spoke before you cut him off.

“Is the main suspect, but I need to find the name of the other guy she was seeing. He could also be a suspect or may know something we don’t.”

Sherlock nodded as he listens to you.

“What are your plans now for the case?” He asks

“Well, they are still checking for a cause of death, but the main theory of the death cause is that the killer killed her by chocking her very hard until she took her last breath. I wanted to hear if they have found something in her body since she said that she was not feeling well. Could be because she was talking to Connor, but it could also be that she was..” You spoke, but to your surprise, Sherlock cut you off.

“Poisoned” he spoke

“That’s one of my theories, but I could be wrong.”

“At this point everything is possible.” He spoke before asking you more questions about the case.

“Do you know where Connor lives?” Just then, the lady comes out with Sherlocks order and he pays.

“Well, no but he used to work at the bookshop where the event was being held at so they probably know.”

Sherlock nodded and then drank his coffee. Then you realized that your coffee and food is still untouched so you take a bite of cookies and drink some coffee too before you speak again.

“We have not seen each other for five years and then you all of a sudden send me a letter where you will gladly help me with my first case. Why?!”

Sherlock looked at you for a moment before he spoke.

“The truth is that I wanna make it up to you and helping you with your first case would be my honor. I know that was an idiot for doing the things back then, and regret doing it. I regret hurting you and most of all, I regret leaving you.”

At that moment you told your self “he does not mean it”, but then you saw that his eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill.

“I don’t know if I can forgive your for hurting me back then, but what I know for sure is that we can try again, but…as friends for now.” You spoke while looking at him

“I understand but could I at least help you with the case?” He asked as a smile began to form on his face. You chuckled since you could not take him seriously.

“Fine, I would be needing some help.” You said while chuckling.

Both of you finished your drinks and you shared your cookies with Sherlock before standing up and leaving.

You walked around town and talked about each others lives.

He told you about the amazing places he visited while solving cases.

From Paris to Moscow, and even Cape Town. He told you that he can bring you with him when he travels again.

You smiled at that, already imagining the places you two could visit, but that imagination was cut short when you told yourself that you have moved on and wanted to stay as friends.

Well, so you thought.

You walked together for what seemed like hours, but it was only 10 minutes.

You two found yourself standing on Sherlocks porch.

Sherlock opened the door and yelled “Hello!?” to see if anybody was home, but it was dead silent.

“Well turns out we are alone” he said while turning to look at you.

You gulped hard, since the last time you were alone with him in his house was when you had your huge fight with him because of his affairs. You ended things with him and stormed out. You have been there to visit Enola and her mother but you were never there when Sherlock was back.

You headed towards his office to focus more on the case.

You went through the notes you took, to see if you can at least solve something. What bothered you the most was that you did not know the name of the other guy she was seeing.

It would have been much easier to know since he could tell his side of the story, but right now he is on the list of the main suspects.

“How are we going to find the guy she was seeing if don’t know his name or have any description of him?” He asked

“I don’t know but I think its best for us to investigate and see if Connor is behind her death. Besides, the news have spread around town, so he is going to come forward sooner or later.”

“You are probably right” He sighed

During the time you spend in his office, you would often notice that his hand would often brush yours or your waist. You did not mind at first but he kept on going so you decided to confront him.

You pulled away from him and yelled “Alright Sherlock, ever since I got here, you would not stop touching me!!! So if you don’t have anything better to do then I think that I should leave!!”

You were about to exit his office when he suddenly pulled you into a kiss. You really hated yourself at that moment since you gave in.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes before he spoke.

“These past years without you have been hell and everyday I hate myself even more for hurting you and don’t think I could ever forgive myself for making my work my priority and doing all those disgusting tings I did that hurt you. I think about you, I dream about you every damn night and I love you…more than anything in this world.”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, and did not know what to say.

Sherlock later on took you to his bedroom without pulling his lips from yours. He laid you down on the bed before pulling away from you to take his shirt off. He then helped you get out of your corset and rest of the dress. He finally took his pants, along with his underwear. He then laid on top of you and began kissing your neck.

“May I??” He asked for your permission. You have done this while you were still lovers but it was a long time ago so it was the only right thing to do.

“Yes” You blurted out.

He slowly lined himself on your entrance and began thrusting. You both began moaning softly while he kept a slow pace since you needed some time to get used to his size.

“Fuck, it feels so good” He said.

You could not form any words at the moment because of the pleasure.

Sherlock later on sped up the pace and you were a moaning mess.

“You okay sugar?” He asked while thrusting into you.

“Yes! It just feels soo goood!” You said.

Both of you reached your limit and were out of breath.

“Did you really mean everything you said?” You asked.

“Every word. Do you think that we can try again?” He asked

You were skeptical about that but you had other plans.

“Well first of all, it would take some time for me to trust you again so you would have to prove it. Second of all, yes we can but as friends for now until I know that I can trust you again.”

Both of you looked at each other and smiled. He came on top of you again and gave you one last kiss before you both doze off.

#henry cavill serie #henry cavill one #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill superman #henry cavill #henry cavill imagines masterlist #henry cavill imagines #walter marshall #the witcher #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #captain syverson #sherlock holmes serie #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #enola 2 #enola holmes

[legionofpotatoes]

All other criticisms of modern Star Wars aside, the thing that gets me the most is how every single story is being written to fit into some Avengers-level grand finale that just isn't laying a solid enough foundation to make it worth the wait. Regardless of whether the individual stories are good or bad, what makes them fall so short, imo, is that there's usually no real payoff within their own runtimes (unless you count cheap callbacks or loose promises of More, which you shouldn't)

Like, I already knew halfway through Ahsoka that we were in for a cliffhanger and it's just like...alright, guess we'll see how this ends in about 5 years? Even Mando, which had a great first season and was poised to stand on its own two feet and ride off on a rootin' tootin' bounty huntin' adventure, has ultimately become yet another dusty path on the road to the current Big Plot with an indeterminate due date. That's not deliciously addictive media, it's a dry-ass carrot on a spindly little stick, lol

Of course, this is a problem that many franchises are happily getting cozy with lately because everybody wants to have their own Infinity War / Endgame moment, but I guess it seems a bit more egregious with Star Wars because, ironically, it used to work best because it had less overall focus. Like, sure, we had concurrent movies, animated series, and games, but they were always happy to do their own things and tell their own stories with definitive conclusions. Now it all has to funnel into the Big New Plot and, man, I honestly just can't bring myself to care when it feels like an endless waiting game

I definitely need to get around to watching Visions at some point because, every time it pops up, it sounds like the lifeblood that Star Wars sorely needs atm

Yeah the setup-and-payoff a-to-b type dramatic clarity that seemed so entrenched into the very bones of cinematic grammar - up to around the emergence of streaming, wink wink nudge nudge - is sorely missed in star wars atm. sure maybe downsized writers rooms fidgeting with limited series formats instead of doing actual seasonal TV has something to do with it, but even that is probably such a small piece of the larger issue that spins all this longform storytelling bullshit ferry wheel around.

Another part is certainly chasing the MCU business model of it all like you said. Carrot on a stick is verbatim how I've often described these things myself, the endless promise of another promise of another promise instead of forming a complete thought with a beginning and an end. servicing the plot before story at all costs. another part still is reverence towards the aesthetic trappings of the source material instead of its themes, trying to nail the exact texture of tatooine's huts and dial in the perfect balance of lightsaber choreography and pay homage to a thousand iconic shots before articulating something true in the text.

And like it's an endless laundry list, this confluence of capital-I Issues both industry-scale and creatively-driven that seem to be flaying the skin off the bones of whatever star wars even "is" nowadays. no one can answer that in the context of billions of dollars made off toys and storylines centering around this one moment in fictional history about sons and fathers and empires and rebellions. so they just keep twisting in the wind filling in any gaps within that period. I don't know nonnie, it's all so bleak. ahsoka and obi wan and even mando tbh. as charming as season 1 was, it truly felt like it coasted on its incredible restraint to avoid muddying its aesthetic with cameos, and lucked into effective storytelling as a result of that utterly unintentional alchemy. that's obviously well and truly gone now as its true optics have reared head.

what star wars is by itself is such a pointless discussion, right? andor argues it's a perfectly functional heightened universe that can support incredibly nuanced and dramatically charged stories of grassroots rebellion and the bureaucratic strain of fascist regimes. visions argues it's a world beholden to the force, an endlessly mutable and elegant metaphor that can support infinite monomyths and fairy tales. both are equally fantastic at executing on their takes, despite being in diametrically opposite extremes of interpreting the source. so it's not really about that at all, why the other stuff sucks this bad.

they're just bad at the craft of it, that's really it. whether it's auteur worship or business decisions rotting that fish down, it still rots all the same. maybe the new writers' guild contracts can shift the winds a little, because I was so securely done with star wars and then the aforementioned 2 shows came and affected me. so, so profoundly that I'm back on the hook again. like a lil sucker!

#long post #anon #asks #boy howdy forgive me mister baby yoda for I have engaged in star wars discourse again #this will definitely not backfire on me as it never before has.

[callsigndragon]

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures | Masterlist [DISCONTINUED]

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x writer!fem!reader (I will try to not use Y/n as reader has a nickname: Page)

Summary: Jake is a Navy Aviator, Y/n is a famous writer. Their friends tried to set them up on a blind date, but it turned out to be the worst idea ever. Years later, the pilot and the writer are forced to get along, even if they can't be in the same room without arguing, to be the godparents of Luke and Annie's baby. When their best friends die in a tragic accident, Jake and Y/n, are left in charge of their baby girl, Emma. Now, both of them have to face an important decision: should they let social services take Emma or are they going to keep her? Besides, are they ready to follow the rules imposed by the lawyer in order to keep their goddaughter?

Warnings: Specified in each chapter.

I DON'T (usually) WRITE SMUT. If you come here looking for a smutty fic, you've come to the wrong place.

Not a rom-com

Till death do us part

Mr. & Mrs. Seresin

Writer's block

Texas

And there was only one bed

It's all about the money

Something new

Beach day

The CPS worker

First date

Girl night

Rehearsals

All over the tabloids

Popping the bubble

The last visit

Lights, camera, action!

How to say I love you

You left me

A year (epilogue)

Character Moodboards

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x you #top gun

[cowgirl078]

Season 7 of 911 if I was a writer/in charge. It's a bit much...

Now I don't know what abc has planned for the rest of the season; however, if I had been pacing the season...

Episodes 1-4 remain the same...loved the pacing and the storyline. That 3 part premiere was amazing. Episode 4 was set up beautifully.

Now on to 5...I think that this should have been just the storyline with Buck x Tommy and Eddie x Marisol. Add in a call that connects to both situations like they used to do in seasons 1 & 2. And have some of the wedding planning happening. Maybe with all the girls, outfit shopping? Situation arises from another wedding party. We also get a mention of Hen's excitement for their new addition to the family and Athena can bring up Harry and how he's doing with his community service. I just want that connection of episode and storyline back.

7x06 I personally think that Henren's storyline should have been pushed to this episode. That would have given them more room to let the audience focus on them. Add in the call we got in 7x05 abt the dog. And to give us a lighter note and breathing room...date montage...Eddie x Marisol and Buck x Tommy. Show both couples learning abt each other and having a great time doing it. Yes I know it will upset some people, but oh well. We also get Maddie x Chimney planning the wedding in that montage.

7x07 Best Man/Maid of Honor...the 118 realizes that neither Maddie nor Chimney have stated who is going to be what in their wedding. Questions and havoc arises...at home, in the station, and on call with them trying to prove who should be what.

7x08 WEDDING and apparently a wild bachelor party gone wrong. Chimney vanishes? All the families need to be there. I have no idea what they have planned, but I do oh so hope that Tommy brings Chim back to the wedding in his helicopter. All couples get a slow dance... Bobby x Athena, Eddie x Marisol, Hen x Karen, Maddie x Chimney, Buck x Tommy

7x09 Honeymoon for Maddie x Chimney...saving a life at some point and then getting right back to the honeymoon. Bobby and Hen talking to Buck abt his relationship. We need to see Hen and Bobby's reaction. And Hen and Tommy I feel deserve a moment as well, so they can have that when Tommy comes to pick Buck up after shift. Talks all around. But it actually turns out to be a double date between Eddie x Marisol and Buck x Tommy. Tommy gets called in... has to leave Buck with a sweet kiss goodbye.

7x10 Finale. Storm/fire or something that Tommy was called in from last episode. Maddie dispatches the 118 to help after his team calls for backup. I'm picturing a cliffside mansion up in flames, probably cause I've been reading some amazing ao3. Either that or a high rise... one way or another the helicopter is going down with Tommy barely escaping and Bobby dispatching the team to both save Tommy, get the people out, and put out the fire. I want to see a full circle... Tommy was with them risking all to save Athena x Bobby. The 118 are going to do whatever it takes to get to him while still doing the rest of their jobs. I want them worried, determined, and all the amazing things they are. 118 officially adopts Tommy into the family even though he stays stationed as a pilot. We get family dinner at Bobby x Athena's with all the beautiful and happy couples.

And that's all I got! Cue end of season 7.

#911 abc #maddie x chimney #eddie x marisol #bobby nash #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tevan #bucktommy #bobby x athena

[skvatnavle]

Anything For You

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader

Warnings: Oh, lawdy. Where do I begin? mentions of alcohol, kissing, fluff, SMUT! oral (f and m receiving), fingering, slightly dom!Bob, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, cream pie and... I think that's it?

Notes: Shout out to @green-socks and @maggiescarborough for looking this over. It was a huge help 💜

And thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer for lending me her dividers 💜

And thanks to @serpentssss for the amazing ask 💕

Words: 3.1K

You’d been with Bob for a little over two years and despite him being away for some of that time, it had been the best years of your life. You could honestly say you’ve never loved anyone like you love Bob and you knew he felt the same. He never missed an opportunity to tell you that, and everything was easy with him. Like it was meant to be.

So when he one day asked if you wanted to move in with him, you said yes even before he finished his sentence. And that’s how you found yourself here in the middle of your housewarming party. Bob had invited some of his Top Gun buddies and you had invited the friends you knew would fly here. Already feeling like a navy wife, you had to move away from home for Bob, but you didn’t mind, you’d follow him anywhere.

The night had been full of drinks, karaoke (where Rooster had laid claim on the mic) and lots of dancing. Bob would often find you and give you sweet kisses, before returning to his buddies. But he always kept you close, smiling every time you caught his eye. He was happier than you’d ever seen him before. And so were you.

Later you escape the warmth of the living room, joining Laila in the cool night air out on the terrace. Sipping on your drinks, you catch up on everything that has happened with her since you moved away. But it doesn’t take long before she turns her attention back to you.

“Tell me everything. How are things with you and Bob?”

“Everything is good. I’m seriously on cloud nine. I’m so happy.” You pause, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Bob is amazing. The sweetest and most caring guy I’ve ever met. I love him so much.”

“But…?”

You look up, only to find her leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. Fidgeting with the label on your bottle, you just shrug and try to seem indifferent, when you look back into her eyes.

“No buts. Everything is great.”

She just gives you a knowing look, coaxing you to tell more. Damn, she knows you too well and could always spot if there was anything remotely wrong. You really shouldn’t say anything, because it really wasn’t a problem, was it?

“Well, I… Okay, it’s… No, I can’t say that.”

“Come on, sweetie. What is it?”

You almost feel ashamed that you’ve made it seem like there’s a problem. Especially since you should have just talked to Bob about it instead. But he is so sweet and you’re afraid he won’t understand. 

“Okay. It’s… sexual. But before I tell you, I’ll let you know that the sex is great, just so you don’t get any ideas.”

She just nods, ready to listen. You sigh heavily, before turning towards her.

“Okay, so… The problem is that--- Maybe he’s too nice?” you pause, cringing at the way you sound. “Sometimes I just wish he could be a little rougher. Be a little more dominating, take charge. He is so sweet and always makes sure I’m satisfied, but I wish that he just once took charge and… Hell, he doesn’t even have to make me come if he could just grab me by the throat or something. Just once.”

She just nods, knowing exactly what you mean. Your ex was the polar opposite of Bob personality wise, but the sex had been mind-blowing. You love that Bob is a lover, but sometimes you wish he could just be rougher with you. 

Feeling silly over the whole thing, you quickly tell Laila not to say anything and keep quiet. Bob doesn’t need to know about this, cause really, you are happy and would hate if he got hurt over this. Laila gets up and holds out her hand.

“Wanna come back inside with me?”

“In a few. It’s hot as hell in there.”

You give her hand a little squeeze, before she walks to the door. When she steps over the threshold, she almost bumps into Bob. Wide eyed and fidgeting with the little straw in his cup, Laila has no doubt that Bob heard every word.

A few hours later, the guests are gone and you’re standing in the mess they left. You loved them all, but man, they were messy. Looking towards the bedroom, you see the soft light seeping out between the door and the frame. Bob had already gone to bed as the last guest left. He had seemed a bit off the last couple of hours, but maybe Hangman had just forced him to do a shot. That always seemed to make him go under faster.

But to your surprise, Bob isn’t in the bed when you enter the bedroom. Sitting in the chair in the corner, he looks to the glass in his hand, the liquor swirling around softly. When you call his name, he doesn’t look up, just downs the shot, before putting the glass down next to a bottle of whiskey on the table. It’s not until then his eyes meet yours followed by a dark expression on his face.

“Bob? What's wrong?”

Pushing off the armrests, he stands and slowly makes his way over to you, his gaze intense. As he stops mere inches from you, he reaches up and cups your jaw, his thumb gently caressing the soft flesh of your cheek.

“Do you love me?”

Taken aback by his words, not knowing why he would ever ask you that question like this, it takes you a few seconds to answer. 

“Of course. You know I love you more than anything. Bob, wh-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not a request, but a straight up order. So you stop, hating how your body is reacting. You should be worried, wondering why Bob is acting weird, but the only thing on your mind is how his words and actions make your body quiver. 

“Get on your knees.”

“But Bob, what’s-”

“Get. On. Your. Knees. That’s an order.”

The heat is already pooling between your thighs as you slowly kneel in front of him. He hasn’t even touched you yet, but you can already feel how soaked you are. His thumb moves over your lower lip, and you feel his finger trembling slightly. 

“You know what I want you to do.”

Trembling at his words, you fumble with his belt, before slowly pulling down the zipper. Letting his pants fall to the ground, you see how his hard cock is, already straining against the fabric of his underwear. You hook your fingertips in the elastic of his boxer briefs and pull a little, looking up into his eyes. Bob is already breathing hard with anticipation, so you pull the briefs down and free his aching cock.

Your mouth is watering at the sight, wanting to suck him so bad, but you already know from his tone that Bob is calling the shots tonight, and you’re not going to risk having this whole thing stopped for doing anything before he tells you to.

“Like what you see, baby?” he pauses, almost sounding nervous, “Be a good girl and… suck my cock.”

You want to start off slow, tease him a little at first, but you can’t help yourself. You surge forward and lap at his cock, licking up his length before taking him into your mouth. 

You’re savoring the slow drag of his dick against your lips, saliva building up in the back of your mouth as you try to take more of it. You moan, deep and low in your throat, Bob’s dick muffling the sound. You moan out loud, and Bob does too. You could cry at how good this feels, wordlessly appreciating how perfect Bob’s cock feels against your tongue.

“So good for me. S-so good for me.”

Bob groans above you, his hand tightening in your hair even more, tipping over the edge of being painful. You whimper at the sensation, but you feel your pussy throb, too. You’re not one to shy away from a little pain with your pleasure.

Breaking away for air, you wrap your hand around him, before taking Bob in your mouth again, short bobs of your head, taking only half of his cock. You hollow out your cheeks and suck hard. He calls your name from above you and thrusts forward, nearly gagging you in the process. You get the hint to take as much of Bob as you can, closing the space between your hand and your lips as your throat loosens.

Bob startles you when he tugs your hair and drags you off his cock. He pulls you back so that you’re looking up at him. You let out a whimper at the sudden loss of contact, but the sight before you is a reward in itself. Bob, your gorgeous, sweet Bob, looks completely wrecked already, beautiful blue eyes blown wide and gazing down on you. Dirty blonde hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead.

Panting heavily, he looks into your eyes and wets his lips, before loosening the grip on your hair, but still holding you in place, mere inches from his aching cock.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Nodding, you give him a soft yes, never breaking eye contact. His free hand runs through his damp locks as he swallows hard.

“I would do anything for you.”

The words hang in the air, the weight of them heavy. Anything for you. It suddenly hits you. He heard you and Laila talking, that’s why he’s doing this, pushing himself out of his comfort zone. He’s doing it for you. The realization makes your heart beat faster and without thinking, you get up and kiss him deeply. You savor the feeling of his lips against yours, positive you’ll never get tired of the softness of them. Bob lets out a small sigh and puts his hands behind your head to pull you closer. His mouth opens a little and he’s licking at your bottom lip, with a hint of teeth. You taste the whiskey on him, your tongue dancing over his.

Bob tugs at your hair again, pulling you away. His lips are already swollen and spit-slick, tempting you to kiss him again. But he holds you in place, as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not done yet. Take your clothes off.”

Without question, you follow his order and start stripping down for him. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you slowly expose more skin. It’s funny. You’ve been naked countless times with Bob, but for the first time you truly feel naked, exposed. Once done, you stand there as his eyes roam your form, his eyes dark with lust.

“Get on the bed.”

Eyes never leaving his, you lay down on the bed. He walks up to you, his warm palms slowly running up your legs towards your wet core. You ache for him, dying for him to touch you, but he barely brushes past the small patch of curls before moving his hands down your thighs again. 

Slowly, he pushes your legs apart, spreading you open for him. Wetting his lips, he dives down between your legs and places a soft kiss on your mound, making you moan his name. He licks up your slit, tasting how needy you are for him, flicking his tongue at your clit.

“Fuck, Bob!”

He licks again, painfully slow, teasing you. When you whimper beneath him, he gives in and places his mouth on your clit and starts sucking. Looking down, you see him smirking against your folds.

Bob takes his time, licking, sucking and biting lightly at your clit. You buck against him, needing more, but he moves his hands to your hips, to keep you still. You are trashing under him, trying to get him to speed up, and you can see he’s loving the power he has over you.

“Lay still, sweetheart. Or I’ll stop.”

Biting your lip, you curse under your breath as you try to lay still for him. His mouth finds your core again, eating you like you were his last meal and with a final flick of his tongue, you come undone. As you cry out his name, Bob slides his fingers into you. Pumping his long digits in and out of your wet heat, he keeps you coming while working you open. Getting you ready for him.

The grip on your hip tightens, but you whimper desperately, so Bob doesn’t let go. Hoping it would bruise, hoping you’d later see the imprint of his fingers on your skin, showing that you’re his. Letting you remember what he did tonight.

You swallow, rolling against Bob again, showing how much you need him. Those beautiful eyes of his grow darker, blue irises almost entirely eclipsed by the black holes of his pupils.

You need him. Need him to kiss you until all you can taste is him. Need him inside you. Captivated you watch as he fists himself, giving his cock a few pumps. His muscles tighten with each pass of his fist, making you squirm under his gaze. If he didn’t do something soon, you were going to combust.

“Fuck me… please…”

And with that soft plea falling from your lips, Bob gives in and finally pushes into you. As he sheathes himself in you, inch by delicious inch, you moan out his name. The stretch of him burns, setting your entire body on fire. But you welcome the ache. Bob brings a hand up to gently stroke your hair. A gesture so tender, you fall apart. Caught between the mattress and the man you love. The man you never want to let go.

You close your eyes, whimpering as Bob pulls back and thrusts back into you slowly, spearing you open in the most delicious way. But it wasn’t enough. As if he heard your silent plea, he pulls out of you and both hands move to your hips to flip you over. Laying on your stomach, you feel his hands caress your thighs and ass before pulling you up, face down in the mattress and ass up in the air. He repositions himself behind you and sinks into you.

He pulls back just a little, before pushing back in with a deep groan. He does it again, painfully slow, letting you feel every inch of his cock. But soon he is rutting into you, his hand moving to your shoulder to hold you in place. His other hand grips your hip harder as he sets a punishing pace, his pelvis slapping against you with every thrust. This is unlike all the other times you’d been with Bob. This time he was possessive, needy. As if he couldn’t get you close enough.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good!”

With each snap of his hips, he sends bolts of pleasure through your entire body, and it doesn’t take much for you to come again. Clamping down on his cock, you feel his pace falter for a second as he grips onto your hips, trying to steady himself. But he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his pace soon relentless again.

His hands move up and grab you by the shoulder, pulling your back flush against his chest. One hand finds its way between your legs, skillfully playing with your clit, while the other closes around your neck. He kisses your neck, just below your ear, before he whispers through strained breath.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Thrusting hard into you, he makes you whimper, pulling the most sinful noises from you. You’re lost in the feeling of him, lost in the pleasure. Barely able to think, you can barely form a sentence.

“Y-yes… Fu-Oh, God. Please…”

Just as you feel the familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach, Bob pulls away from you. Wide eyed, you stare over your shoulder, begging for him to keep fucking you, to keep using you.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Lay down on your back.”

Eagerly you lay down, spread open for him. You don’t even care how needy you must look, how desperate. You want him to ruin you completely. He crawls between your legs and buries himself in you with one, hard trust. You whimper, already sore, but God, you want more. He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you to look me in the eyes when I come inside you.”

Snapping his hips, harder and faster, he keeps holding your gaze, his beautiful blue eyes gone, now completely black with lust. With each drag of his cock, he brings you closer to yet another earth shattering orgasm. His pace begins to falter again, the thrusts becoming irregular. He is so close, but he fights it.

“God, sweetheart. I-I wanna f-fill you with my cum.”

He stutters, his cock barely leaving your cunt, his thrusts shallow. Looking through heavy lids, he keeps looking into your eyes and he hits that sweet spot in you over and over. You’re so close.

“Fuck, I… I wanna p-put a baby in y-you.”

His name is all that leaves your lips like the sweetest prayer as you come, digging your nails into his shoulders. Bob buries his head in your neck, groaning as he fills you to the brim with his hot release. Thrusting a few more times, he kisses your neck softly, nipping at the tender flesh. You’re completely cock drunk, just lay there completely used with closed eyes.

Bob rolls onto his back and takes you with him, letting your head rest on his chest. Breathing still heavy, he kisses your forehead.

“I, ehm… I hope that was okay?”

Snorting, you hide your face in his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl. How he could even ask that is beyond you. You just look into his eyes, once again seeing your soft sweet Bob, and kiss him. 

“That was more than okay. I guess you heard me and Laila?”

He just nods and kisses you again.

“So… This is why you drank that whiskey?”

“Yeah, I… There’s no way I could have done this without any liquor.”

You both giggle softly, before Bob gently breaks away from you. Thinking he’s going for a cloth to clean up, you’re surprised when he pushes your legs together and shoves a pillow under your butt. Cocking your eyebrow at him, you make him smile, blushing to a deep red.

“Ehm, I… I meant the baby thing.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging: @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @wildbornsiren @edwardbaldwin @chasingdreamer @milestellussy @lucy-sky @sweetfictionalworld @autumnleaves1991-reads @joalsglasses @srry-itshockeyszn @sparrows-corner @multifandom-fangirl4 @lorecraft @ouroborus-momento-mori @lil-medic @paintballkid711 @weasleywinchester @tipsykeen @lluckpng @blindedbyyourgrace17 @levylovegood @andshivroytoo @weakling-grace @mayhem24-7forever @happyblogsstuff @nik2blog @serpentssss @straightforwardly @sadpetalsstuff @ughdummy @chaoticassidy

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #lewis pullman fanfiction #bob floyd fanfiction

[redsoul-writing]

Heyy!!

Can I request a headcanon for Law and Shanks (separate) please? Where fem s/o is a VERY honest person and so she somehow makes them blush?

I hope you don't mind the details of the ask! And thank you if you do it!

Have a good day writer-sama! :D

Hey!! Thank you for the request anon, I love Shanks and Law so much omg. These scenarios are so cute, I tried my best on this, hope you like it! (Even though I wish I thought of something better)

SFW, somewhat suggestive comment on Shanks’ part but not really.

Red Haired Shanks

Y/n arrived in the kitchen, and it seems nobody was in there. Well, yeah it was quite a bit past breakfast, waking up later than usual. Thankfully there were still some left overs for her. Knowing Shanks, he probably saved some. How cute <3.

Pancakes and some eggs, yum. Y/n was so into her food, she failed to notice Shanks enter the room.

“Hey, Y/n!” The red haired said, coming up behind her and embraced her.

Y/n flinched a little, being surprised by the sudden entrance. “Good morning baby.” She giggled at Shanks face, slightly tinted by a sweet rosy color.

Shanks noticed she had this somewhat dazed expression on her face.

“Whats up, you thinking about something?” He asked

“hm? Oh, nothing. I just enjoy it when you touch me.” Y/n replied, casually

Shanks laughed, but then he noticed what she’d said. his face felt a bit hot, and he sat down next to her.

“I saved some for you.” He said, trying to act cool.

Unfortunately, Y/n can see through him because, well, he’s Shanks.

“I figured. You’re so sweet.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Shanks was hyper aware of Y/n’s actions today. She’d always been very honest and open about her thoughts, but for some reason he never seemed to get used to it, always making him flustered. He enjoyed it though.

Y/n looked at Shanks, still deep in thought. Her eyes were admiring his figure, but mostly his chest peeking out of his semi-open button up.

“You still thinking about my hug? I can do more if you want.” He teased, or atleast tried to.

Y/n didn’t seem to notice it though, only hearing the question.

“No, I’m just admiring your abs. So sexy, and they’re all mine.” She answered casually once again, unaware of the effect it has on Shanks.

Shanks noticed immediately this time, and a deep blush set on his face. “Heh.. yeah.”

y/n finally seemed to notice that the rather talkative emperor was quiet and his face was redder than usual. She laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” He wasn’t being rude, just genuinely asking.

“You look so cute when you’re flustered. Your face is almost as red as your hair.” She teased, chuckling.

Y/n laughed when Shanks turned his face so she couldn’t see it.

Trafalgar Law

This guy may seem rough on the outside, but he’s just a big softie on the inside…mostly for y/n.

Law was checking over y/n after patching her up. She’d gotten injured in an encounter against the marines before boarding the Polar Tang. He’s been scolding her on and off in the past few minutes for being so reckless.

“What did I say before battle?” He asked

“Don’t be reckless.” Y/n sighed

“And what did you do?” He continued

“I fought?” She said, unsure of what answer he wanted

“No, you charged straight into battle without a second thought to your surroundings.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose in between his index and thumb.

“…I still won though.” Y/n mumbled

“Not without a bullet in your thigh— how were you even running after that?” Law asked, genuinely baffled

“Uhh Adrenaline..? Who’s the real doctor here?” She laughed a little before Law continued his scolding.

“Whatever, the point is you were being reckless, and that’s why you’re here with me wrapping your bandages.” He finally seemed to finish

“I like being with you though. In that case, maybe I should do that more often..” She started thinking to herself

Law was taken aback by this honest comment, then he cleared his throat.

“I feel like everything I’m saying goes in one ear and out the other.” He sighed

Y/n laughed

“This isn’t funny! What if you’d gotten seriously injured?” Law was losing patience

“I’ll always have you to fix me up after.” She winked

Law looked away, trying to stay angry at Y/n.

“You look so cute when you’re mad.” She broke the silence

Law looked back at her. He was caught off guard by her remarks, even though he knew they were just her usual genuine thoughts. She just can’t help it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She cocked her head

“Nothing.” He crossed his arms and looked down

He reminded her of a kid who’s mother answered ‘No’ when they asked for something.

“Look at me?” Y/n asked of him

“hm?” He looked up, now looking down at her. (He’s just tall)

“Come closer.” She had this focused look on her face

Maybe there’s something on his face?

He walked closer to her, and leaned down face to face.

Y/n put her hands up, and held Law’s face in her hands, confusing Law.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked, somewhat muffled by her hands almost squishing his cheeks

“What? No, I just want to hold your face in my hands.” She said, squishing his face a bit more.

Laws tan face was tinted pink, and Y/n noticed despite her hands covering half of it.

“Are you blushing?” She teased him

“What? No!” He stood up straight and closed his eyes.

“Still trying to stay angry, huh?” She snickered

Y/n got up and hugged Law, wrapping her arms around his frame. “Love you, Traffy.” She smiled, snuggling against his chest.

Law hesitated as his heart was still registering her sweet words, almost as sweet as her warm embrace.

He followed, hugging her tight against himself.

“I love you too.” He kissed her head

#trafalgar law #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x you #trafalgar d law x reader

[heliza24]

Let's talk about the music in Young Royals! (Part 1)

This post, which will focus on the needle drops used in the show, is the first part of a two-part analysis. Part 2 will focus on the original score.

I love the way music is used in Young Royals. It was one of the first things that attracted me to the show, but it's only recently that I’ve stopped to think about why I find it so effective. I used to (in a pre-disability past life) work in the music industry, and I’ve been missing my old job a lot lately. So I thought I would use some of my knowledge (and my media analysis skills) to write this meta. I've tried to link a youtube video for every song I reference, so you can go and listen to the tracks if you want to.

First, let’s talk about some logistics. “Needle drops” are when a show uses a pre-existing song as part of the score (like literally dropping a needle on a record player; isn’t it weird how that terminology has stuck around even while the technology has changed?). You can also call them music syncs, which refers to the fact that in order to use pre-existing music in film, you have to obtain a music synchronization license from the copyright owner (this ensures that the recording artist and the songwriter get paid for the use of their music). The person in charge of selecting songs and clearing the rights for them is called the music supervisor. The Young Royals music supervisor is Magnus Palmborg, and I think he does an incredible job. (He was also a co-writer on Simon’s Song, so we really have a lot to thank him for).

Music serves a very important role in Young Royals. I believe that the selection of songs and use of the score really helps establish one of the most important themes of the show: the dichotomy between the public and private self. So much of Young Royals is about the images characters consciously try to project and the pressure society puts on them to act a certain way, and the way that conflicts with their actual internal feelings.  And this dichotomy exists very clearly in the music too.

Most of the needle drops in the show are big, bold pop and hip hop songs. They are usually played over montages of the students at Hillerska, often towards the beginning of the episode, and they reflect the “cool” image that the students are trying to project to each other. The very first time we see Hillerska, “Wannabe Ghetto” by Fata Boom is playing, and the lyrics “keep up the front like it’s your mission/Look our best, cover up what’s missing” perfectly sums up the pressure the students feel to fit in at such an elite school. When everyone is getting ready for the welcome back party in 2.1, the incredibly confident "Ripe" by Flavia is playing. The lyrics “no need to go to work unless you're working on my body” are full of sexual confidence, but they also play while students are putting on makeup and trying to look their best, literally working on their bodies. (Flavia is one of my favorite finds from the soundtrack by the way. She makes total queer bangers, I recommend checking her out). 

It’s probably worth talking briefly about the opening title card here. A lot of shows have full opening sequences, with their own theme song. Young Royals eschews this, choosing instead to just flash the title on screen over an existing scene, often with a needle drop (but this changes each episode). I think this approach works really well, because it lets the music clue us in to the mood of each episode. A lot of episodes start with a very intimate scene, like the music room scene at the beginning of 1.3, and then contrast that with a burst of pop music during the title card that reminds us of the front the characters are normally projecting. In 1.3 the title card is shown over a montage of Felice struggling in the stables and is accompanied by a loud, lyricless pop song. That contrast from the intimacy of the music room, to a space where Felice feels like she’s always pretending, is really effective.  

But sometimes needle drops are used to reflect more intimate, genuine emotions. Sometimes the show does this by making the song semi-diagetic. (Diagetic music is music that exists within the story that characters can hear; so Simon’s Song for instance is diagetic). At the beginning of episode 1.1, Wilhelm is listening to “Bad” by Farveblind, which has the lyrics “I think it’s bad/I think it’s lame/I think it’s horrible” over and over again, which is a pretty clear indicator of how Wilhelm is feeling. The show does a similar thing in 2.3, when Wilhelm listens to “The Lonely Ones” by Lova in his headphones when he walks by the lake. He’s feeling lonely! He listens to a sad song! That’s pretty straight forward. 

But sometimes the way the music captures characters’ genuine feelings is a little more subtle. I actually think that there’s a lot more of this in season 2 than there is in season 1. There are a few examples I love from season 1, but most of my favorite examples are from the latter half of season 2. This perfectly reflects the journey that all of the characters, but especially Wilhelm, are going on; as season 2 goes on he gets more and more in touch with his real feelings and less and less able to pretend to please the royal family. These songs tend to be a little quieter than the flashy pop and hip hop that represents the facade of Hillerska, and you sometimes have to think a little bit about how the lyrics are illuminating what the characters are feeling.

Some of my favorite examples in season 1 include  “Holes (Deep Throat Choir Remix)” by Zhala that plays during Erik’s funeral, which has the lyrics “And I lose myself inside”, reflecting Wilhelm’s descent into grief and the way that he’s about to push Simon away, and “Sunday” by Gina Dirawi that plays as the girls are setting up for the sleepover and Wilhelm is going over to Simon’s house in 1.5. The lyrics “but I can see you clear here” reflect the fact that both sets of characters have found a sense of comfort with each other. But my absolute favorite example in season 1 is “Samurai Swords” by Highasakite, which plays while August uploads the video of Wilhelm and Simon to the internet. “I am leaving/I’m unleashing/I unravel to the leeches/I’m unpleasant/I’m unloving/So call out the guys with the samurai swords” plays while the camera focuses on August, reflecting his emotional state and also the fact that uploading the video is an act of self-harm for August (the image of samurai swords makes me think of seppuku, or the ritualized suicide that samurai warriors would commit instead of falling into enemy hands) and an act of aggression against Wilhelm and Simon. And when the camera cuts back to Wilhelm and Simon the lyrics say “someone else will love like a rainstorm”. The melody is so wistful and sad, like the show is already nostalgic for the perfect love that Simon and Wilhelm had which is about to be marred by the outside world. 

In season 2, I really love “My Awe Sustains” by Ari at the top of 1.5, which perfectly captures the feeling of longing between Wilhelm and Simon (this is my other favorite discovery from the soundtrack; the whole album For Evig by Ari is one of my favorites now) and “I Wanna Be Someone Who’s Loved” by Tusse, which is included after the fight in the music room in the same episode. The lyrics to this one are really heartbreaking: “You make me feel like I’m invisible… Thought it would help but no one hears my call/No I won’t give up/I want to be someone who’s loved.” The lyrics capture how much Wilhelm wants to make his way back to Simon, but there’s frustration in melody too, which reflects how trapped he currently feels. “Please Don’t Go” by April Snow and Elias in episode 2.3 is another really interesting example. It plays right before August invites Sara to his room “just to talk” and before Simon tries to break up and Marcus doesn’t let him. The lyrics “I asked you to leave but I meant that I want you to stay/I need you to hear what I mean and not what I say” seem to capture the push-pull in both sets of relationships, and how all of the characters are trying but failing to really communicate what they mean.

But I think my favorite needle drop in season 2 that's used to illuminate the inner thoughts of a character is "Mirror" by Mogli. The song starts playing right after Wilhelm's last session with Boris in 2.5, when he realizes he has a choice: he doesn't have to become king. He could let August inherit and be with Simon. The lyrics "You don't want to be sad anymore/And I can't laugh/ No I can't laugh/I want to win this race but you can't lose/I let you score" underscore Wilhelm contemplating August in the Forest Ridge common room. Letting August inherit the crown would be letting him "win" in their invisible war for power, but what would that matter if Wilhelm gets to be happy with Simon? We see Wilhelm come to that realization, and then in the next scene he tells Simon that he's willing to give up the crown for him.

Since we’ve talked about the opening title card needle drops, we should probably address the fact there is also often a song over the closing credits as well. Again, this doesn’t happen in every episode; sometimes original scoring is used instead. But when a needle drop is included at the end of an episode, it feels like foreshadowing for things to come. My favorite is the end of 2.1, right after Wilhelm has a meltdown on the call to his mom. “Seize the Power” by YONAKA plays, and seems to signify Wilhelm’s arc for the rest of the season: 

“Woke up this morning, I feel so fucking important/Look in the mirror, I’m different, I finally made a decision/All the rejected that lost a lack of respect in themselves cause people get hectic/they hurt you and make you feel helpless/they’re not brave like you/they’re too scared to do/anything that’s different, anything that’s new/I don’t need lessons/I do what I want it’s refreshing/as soon as you taste independence/you start living life in the present”

Season 2 is all about Wilhelm realizing he needs to claim his independence and start living his own life, so the lyrics perfectly represent his arc. Plus, the melody of this song is driving and angry, which helps carry forward the momentum of Wilhelm’s conflict with his mom through the end of the credits and reminds us how urgent this need to stand up for himself is.

You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t talked about “Revolution” by Elias or “The Most Beautiful Boy” by The Irrepressibles yet. I saved these two for last because I think they get the most fan discussion of all of the music choices in the season, and for good reason. To me these two are almost the theme songs of their respective season; everything centers around them. They occur at the same place in the season (at the end of 1.4/2.4 and 1.6/2.6) and they encapsulate the lessons that Wilhelm needs to learn: how to stand up to his mom and defy what is expected of him, and how to prioritize his love for Simon.

(I’ve also already talked about “Holy” by Elias in my post about the sex scenes here).

Overall, I love the way that needle drops are used in Young Royals. I know some people have complained that the songs don’t have much to do with the story, but to me nothing could be further from the truth. The songs capture both the societal expectations of Hillerska and the tender, inner workings of the characters. They help us understand the pressures put on our main characters and illuminate how they are really feeling inside. Plus the soundtrack is filled with queer, female, and POC artists who are a delight to discover.

I would love to hear your interpretation of the needle drops in the show. Do you have a favorite song on the soundtrack? Is there something I missed that you want me to talk about? My ask box is open and I would love to hear your thoughts!

#young royals #cinematic analysis #my meta #needle drops #wilhelm young royals #prince wilhelm #music analysis

[megamindsecretlair]

Do you write for Franklin saint? Maybe with him getting that stress relief??? Like I want him to be pussy whipped fr. (Feel free to ignore but your Franklin works are magical)

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive!!!!

Stress Relief

AO3 Link!

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving) multiple uses of n-word, kissing. No major spoilers for Snowfall.

Summary: During a stressful period at the end of season 3, Franklin is dealing with a lot of pressure from all sides. Between Leon popping off at the mouth and Manboy getting bold, Franklin is running around stressed. You feel bad. You want to help him. Even though it's hot as hell outside, you decide to do a little heating up at home to take the tension away.

Word Count: 2,434k

A/N: Whew! This got ME hot and bothered. I hope you enjoy! I'm also on AO3 now! Old dogs can learn new tricks! Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro

Fuck it was hot as hell in LA. You fanned yourself as you sat in front of the fan, titties out, trying to cool off. You wore shorts, though that did nothing for the sticky sweat between your thighs. Your braids were off your neck, resting on the couch cushion. LA has had some record heat waves, but this felt like one of the worst ones. The radio called for everyone to do their part for conservation. Sheeit. It was hotter than a devil’s draws outside. 

Franklin was going to be out all day, running errands with Leon. The mess between him and Manboy was stressing your man out and you were running out of ways to help him. Though you didn’t want anything to do with handling drugs, you tried to help in other ways. Counting his money, checking in on his mom and Alton, and holding down the house while he was away.

When Franklin got like this, it was best to get out of his way. It was tough for you to do because you were a helper by nature. You didn’t like seeing people in distress when you could do something about it. Sweets usually did it, but Franklin’s only vice was a nice glass of soda. 

You sighed, adding to the hot air blowing through the room. Sweat gathered on your skin, under your boobs, giving you a light sheen that was bordering on uncomfortable. You tried to distract yourself with ways you could help Franklin relieve some of that tension. 

It’d be easier if the mu’fucka just went on and had a drink. Everybody had something. 

Keys jingling made you lean around the couch to look at the front door. Franklin slid into the house, dark blue shirt clinging to his lean frame. You watched him move, tension in the set of his shoulders and his lips pressed together. 

“Hey baby,” you said. 

Franklin did a double take, looking around for you. You made a noise so that he knew to look on the floor, in front of the couch. His eyes landed on you and he gave you a smile. “What you doin’ here?” He asked.

“I wasn’t finna go to work in this shit. Probably should have for the air conditioning, but well. It’s too hot for all that,” you said and waved your hand. Thinking about air conditioning made you pay attention to how the heat rolled over your skin.

Franklin closed the door and walked over to the couch. He passed in front of you and sat down. He leaned over a planted a kiss on your forehead. Then he sat back on the couch with a loud sigh. 

“If anyone ask, I was over Rob’s last night,” he said.

You turned around to face him. “Okay. But where were you really?” You asked. 

Franklin’s head rested on the back of the dark brown couch, looking up towards the ceiling like it had the answers he needed. He licked his lips slowly. 

“Don’t you fix your lips to lie, Franklin Saint,” you said.

Franklin chuckled and it warmed you up to see him smile, even a little. You missed that damn smile on his face. Over the past few weeks, he’d been steadily growing more tired. The smiles didn’t come as easy. 

“You know I try to keep you outta this shit,” he said. 

“Too bad. How’d things go with Leon and Manboy?” You asked. He wasn’t ready to talk about last night and that was okay. For now.

Franklin leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, a grimace on his face. He avoided looking at you so he probably wasn’t going to tell the whole truth. Must be really bad. You knew he sometimes had to do things he wasn’t proud of. Things that would make his mama cry if she really knew. 

You weren’t so cavalier about the things he did but you understood him. Growing up in the hood like you both did, it was a desolate wasteland sometimes. It felt like there was a giant hand on your neck, keeping you down no matter how hard you worked to get out from under it. Franklin was only trying to even the playing field.

“I’m so sick of trying to get niggas to act right,” Franklin said. He stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

You grimaced. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned anything. “Leon so fucking busy worrying about Wanda, Manboy got the Crips on lock in Compton and Leon pushing in. Like cats and fuckin’ dogs with these niggas!” He yelled. 

You stayed quiet and let him vent. He was even more wound up than you thought. Had you ever seen him so worked up? It’d been so long since he was home long enough to have an actual conversation. Mostly, you talked in between his meetings and goings on. He’d page you and you’d find a few minutes to hurry and call before he scooted off again.

Matter of fact, it’d been quite some time since you had your legs wrapped around his waist. You felt bad, but as he spoke, you stared at his frame. At the hard lean to his shoulders when he was truly pissed. Sometimes, his walk turned you on more than his words ever could. 

You stood up, halting Franklin in his tracks. His eyes dropped down to your titties, but you took his hand. You silently led him to the couch, making him sit back down. “You’re stressed,” you said.

Franklin opened his mouth, but you placed a finger over his lips. “You’re stressed and running around with too much responsibility. Too many things on your mind, baby,” you said. 

He sighed and finally nodded, seeming to deflate completely. You moved your hand under his chin and lifted it. You planted a kiss to his lips. He groaned, leaning in to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, kissed his cheek, and leaned down to his ear. “I know how to get your mind right,” you softly sang. 

“What you got in mind?” He asked.

You smirked and sank to your knees in front of the couch. You eyed him as you went for his zipper and pulled. You moved his jeans and briefs down, until his hardening dick sprang free. You moaned at the sight of it, biting your lip as if you could already taste the salty taste of him. 

You lowered your mouth on him, taking your time to work him all the way in. He groaned as your mouth took as much of him as you could. You swirled your tongue around his shaft and then around his tip. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you moaned, swallowing him down.

“Fuck,” he sighed. He gathered up your braids into a tight ponytail. 

“You need some relief baby?” You asked around his dick. 

Franklin’s eyes were locked on yours. On the way that you smiled at him while sucking him back down. He nodded and pushed your head further. You slobbered on his dick, coating him with your saliva. Your wet, loud sucking battled with the fan blowing hot air across your back. 

Franklin slowly pulled you by your hair up and down and kept his eyes locked on his disappearing length inside of you. You let him go with a wet plop and then bit his thigh. He hissed and gave you a wild look. 

“I won’t break Franklin, you know that. You need some real relief? Fuck me then,” you said, giving him a challenging look. You dared him with your eyes. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said. But his eyes were growing wider, breathing in creasing. Sweat made his dark skin glisten. 

You licked him from his balls to the tip of his shaft and he gasped. “You won’t,” you said. 

Franklin grinned and shook his head. “Fuck I do to deserve you, huh?” He asked. 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. He licked his lips slowly, grabbed your braids tighter, and then pushed you down on his dick. He groaned, yelling a bit, as he fucked your mouth how he needed. You planted your hands on his thighs to brace yourself and settled in for the ride. 

You couldn’t resist teasing his tip whenever it ran past your lips. More pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you slurped that up. Drool spilled down your chin. You ran your tongue underneath his dick, tracing the hint of vein there. Franklin pushed his hips forward.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” he muttered. Not a second later, he shoved your head down and exploded in your mouth. His dick pulsed with hot cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed every last drop, breathing heavily. 

Franklin threw his head back with a groan, ragged gasps escaping him. He was so damn hot after he came. When his lips parted and his eyes were closed. That throat of his. His heaving breaths making his chest rise and fall so rapidly. 

You wiped your mouth clear of lingering drool. You moved to stand up, but Franklin caught your movement. He snatched you about the waist, and shoved your shorts and panties down. He pulled you onto his lap while he shoved his own pants down, further down his long legs. 

You straddled him and he moved his fingers to tease your clit. “You wet for me?” He asked. His voice was low and husky, sending tingles down your spine. 

“Yes, baby,” you said. Sucking him off made you so unbearably wet. Perhaps it wasn’t just him that needed stress relief. Being so worried about him caused its own little bubble of frustration.

His thumb traced circles around your clit while he captured your lips with his own. He kissed you like you supplied the oxygen he needed to survive. He nipped at your bottom lip before diving in for more. His other hand gripped your hip. Fingers digging in for purchase. 

You moaned into his lips. His finger worked magic on your pussy, pulling you closer and closer to the height of pleasure. Dripping onto his thighs, he moved his finger and circled his tip with your juices.

He rubbed his dick between your wet folds, gathering enough of your slick to push in without hurting you. You hissed as he breached your entrance. He kissed your neck, then down to your chest. He licked your nipple and then suckled it. 

“Oh-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The sweet bite of pain relaxed you enough to allow him inside. He pushed in deeper, working his hips until he was sliding in and out of you with ease. Your forehead dropped against his as you rode him. 

“Fuuck,” he moaned. Your breaths co-mingled, absorbed each other by being pressed chest to chest. Your sweat made you glide against his chest, his shirt the only barrier. You stole kisses in between moans, but you were too blissed out to stay connected for long. 

Franklin’s hands moved up to rub up and down your back and you sighed. You kissed his forehead. You were a hot mess at the moment. The smell of sex heavy and thick in the air. You didn’t care. He felt so good inside you. Like home. Like the most sinful heaven. Like sweet hell. 

Franklin pulled out and you groaned. You instantly missed him. He placed you on the couch and he stood up. He grinned and pulled off his shirt. He soaked through it with sweat. He kicked off his pants, leaving him in his naked glory. 

You admired the length of his body, licking your lips at the sheer beauty of him. He pulled your hips and flipped you over. You got to your knees, placing your hands over the back of the couch for leverage. 

He grabbed your hips and shoved in with a low, rumbling moan. “Oh fuck!” You screamed. You gripped the back of the couch, nails digging in while he hit it from the back with a bruising, punishing pace. 

Your ass smacked on his thighs and he grunted with every stroke. “Oh fuck, fuck that pussy, baby,” you moaned. “Beat this pussy up!” 

Franklin groaned, seeming to go deeper or stroke harder according to your demands. “Needed this. Needed you,” he croaked. 

“Needed you tooooo,” you moaned. You dropped your sweaty forehead to your forearm, indescribable pleasure overtaking your whole body. Like you were weightless. Jointless. Like you could fall apart at any moment and his dick could stitch you back together. 

“Niggas don’t fuckin’ listen. But you do, don’t you baby?” Franklin asked.

“Yes, baby, I listen,” you cried out, nodding though you weren’t sure if he could see it. He grabbed hold of your braids again, yanking your head back. Your back bowed as he entered at a new angle, dragging the tip of him across a deep, sweet spot that made you scream.

You came, body and limbs shaking uncontrollably. Franklin continued to pound inside of you, grunting and oblivious that your world was splitting apart atom by atom. 

“Oh fuck, baby. This pussy yours, baby,” you managed to eke out in between moans. 

That lit a fire under Franklin. His fingers gripped your sides harder, his strokes got deeper, and his moans bounced off of the walls. He growled as he came, hot, pulsing jets of cum that stuffed you to the brim. 

Your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed across the back of the couch. Franklin’s quick breaths fanned across your back. Your body still shivered, aftershocks from such a rough and deeply satisfying fuck. 

Franklin’s hips stilled deep inside, keeping you plugged up with his cum. He dropped forward, pushing you into the couch. You looked back at him and he smiled sloppily at you. 

“You know just how to take care of me,” he whispered. 

You smiled, groaning as he slipped out. His cum slipped out after and he disappeared from behind you. You heard water running and then he was back, wiping you down with a cool washcloth. 

You sighed as the cool cloth hit your overheated skin. When he was done, he plopped the towel onto the coffee table and then joined you on the couch. Despite the heat, you burrowed into his embrace, throwing your legs over his. 

He rubbed your arm while you played with the tiny hairs on his thighs. He kissed your forehead. “Fuckin’ love the shit outta you,” he said.

You leaned up to look at him in his beautiful eyes. “Love the shit outta you too.”

Plenty more of Franklin to go around! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Franklin Saint Files #Franklin x Black!reader #Franklin x Black reader #x Black reader #Franklin x Fem!reader #Franklin x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Franklin x plus size reader #Franklin Saint fanfic #Franklin Saint #Franklin Saint fan fic #Franklin Saint fanfiction #Franklin Saint fan fiction #Damson Idris #Snowfall fanfic #Snowfall fan fic #Snowfall fanfiction #Snowfall fan fiction #Franklin Saint smut

[fakefiller]

Our Little Secret.

Warnings — frat!bucky x reader, frat!steve x reader, kidnapping, mean!bucky, lots of degradation, protected sex bc they’re sluts??, crying during sex, threesome, mean-ish!reader, slapping, anal.

A/N — from the list of writing ideas from @kinanabinks <3 such a lovely writer

It was the biggest game of the year and you knew this. The rancid smell of the suit made your nostrils ache and stomach churn. ‘The extra credit will be worth it, they said’ you repeat to yourself as you put on the head of the otter suit, physically recoiling when the fur comes in contact with your face.

“I think it’s in here!” You hear a voice yell, more footsteps following behind it.

Panic sits in your gut but you decide not to react. Instead, you do your best to quickly – yet quietly – hide in the broom closet of the locker room. You stand bunched up behind the shelf that holds the mop bucket and broom, keeping your breaths to a minimum.

“Where the fuck could a mascot have gone?” The voice was right outside of the broom closet and you’re trying your absolute best not to move but your foot itches.

Your fucking foot itches.

You lean down to scratch the bottom of your shoe with the otter arm, failing terribly and slipping on a wet rag. “Fuck!” You yell, holding your knee in the fetal position.

The boys return to the door, twisting the knob, giving you no time to react to the intrusion. You wince and do your best to stand, preparing to charge at the group but as more appear you lose the faux confidence you once had. Adrenaline builds up in your veins and you rush them anyway, head butting one of them in the abs unsuccessfully. You fly back onto the ground with a soft scoff and the group laughs, almost offended you tried to take them on.

“Look at this fucking idiot.” The tall brunette laughs manically, resting his hand on his stomach.

“Buck, don’t be rude. Let’s just take him and go.” The taller blonde suggests, and it doesn’t register that they think you’re a guy.

“Yeah, yeah. Grab him, Steve. Me and the others’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

“Yes sir.” Steve reaches down to pick you up and you gasp at how easily he throws you over his shoulder.

All you remember is being put in the back of a white van and blacking out from how rough the brown-haired boy was driving. ‘College fucking sucks’ you think to yourself, rolling your eyes as you sit strapped to a chair in what looks like a basement. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small window. Your head is spinning, various thoughts racing through your mind but the only one you’re sure of is that they can’t kill you. Their DNA is all over your school's locker room.

“Well, well, well. Let’s see who we have this year.” Bucky announces, beginning to undo the straps of the otter head.

“No way you fucking lames do this middle-school ass ritual every year.” You scoff, shaking your hair out of your face as he pulls off the helmet.

“Oh, shit.” Steve chuckles, swiping his hand over his face.

“We fucked up.” Bucky rubs his temples, a look of fear taking over his expression.

“No shit! It’s been guys every year, why choose a girl now?” Steve questions.

“Can I go now..” You yawn, tossing your head back against the back of the wooden chair.

“Uh – yeah. Keep this between us? I need to start in the game tonight. There’s supposed to be NFL scouts there.” Bucky confesses and Steve stares at him with a ‘just let her go’ look.

“Our little secret.” You nod.

“I’m untying you now.” Steve expresses, approaching you with his hands up.

“Make it speedy, I have to re-do my hair because of you dickheads.” You sigh, flexing your wrist in the suit as he unties each of your limbs.

“There you go.” Steve huffs as he stands back up, taking a second to take in your beauty in the dimly lit room.

“I’ll call you an uber.” Bucky adds as he pulls out his phone, being as quick as possible.

“Do me a favor and stay off my campus.” You add, staying seated until he lets you know that your ride is here.

A week has passed since the Incident, leaving you somewhat shook but free from ever being in that awful suit again. That is, until you see them. Both of them.

You walk into your local cafe, prepared to order your usual until their faces come into your line of vision. The anger in your stomach festers. Thanks to them, you missed your date with Pietro before the game and you still feel horrible about it.

“Dude, I think that’s the chick we kidnapped.” Bucky whispers to Steve and he turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

You don’t miss the way the anger in your stomach falters when he looks you up and down, admiring the way your miniskirt sits on your hips.

“Next in line.” Kennedy calls out and waves you up.

“I didn’t know you worked today, Ken! I would’ve come up way sooner.” You leaned against the counter, giving your friend a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m about to go on break, meet outside in 10?” She smiles, handing you a bag with an unreleased cake pop in it.

“You know it, see you then.” You blow her kiss and inevitably feel the two large boys staring daggers into you.

“They did what?!” Kennedy gasps.

“Mhm. I won’t lie, I was petrified but I realized they’re just football players. Just because they go to the much richer school across from us didn’t mean shit to me.” You shrug, sipping on the iced caramel latte nursed in your hand.

“I wanna be you when I grow up. You had a group of super hot, super tall football players kidnapping you for fun! I can’t believe you didn’t fuck at least one of them.” She laughs, taking a drag from the dull cigarette.

“You’re just a shameless slut.” You scoff playfully, not fully against the proposition. “I had a date with Piet that I ended up missing but still, I couldn’t go out with another guy after getting trained. That’s fucked.”

“Maybe morally, but it’s not illegal. If I were you, I’d go find them and fuck them but that’s just me.” She shrugs, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and stomping it out.

“Remind me why you’re in SAA again?”

“Oh fuck off.” Kennedy replies with a chuckle, pushing you up from your chair. “I’m being serious! Live life and have fun, we’re in college for fuckssake.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll go fuck two random college boys who tried to kidnap me because they thought I was a guy.” You’d be lying if the idea wasn’t exciting you.

“I want all the details after. Shit, just record it.” She gives you a wink and shoos you inside.

To your disbelief, they’re still sitting at the booth that was given to them 30 minutes ago. You swallow your anxiety and march over to them with your head held high and thighs almost clenching together. Without a word said you sit down next to the blonde who you somehow trust more than the brunette.

“I want you to fuck me. Both of you. At once.”

Bucky looks at Steve and Steve looks at Bucky with a concerned look, and you start to panic. Why would you listen to Kennedy?

“Your place or ours?” Bucky asks with his head resting on his knuckles.

“Yours. I don’t want anyone I know to see me with you.” You retort quickly, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

“So what are we waiting for, exactly?” Steve asks.

“Wait – ya’ll have condoms, right? I don’t wanna catch whatever you two might have.”

“If you’re so sure we’re useless fuckboys that might ‘have something’ why even fuck us, hm?” Bucky taunts.

“Just shut up and take me to your place.” You push yourself out of the booth and Steve follows your action, Bucky reciprocating it on the other side.

Not a single word was spoken when you were pushed against the door of their apartment, Steve fumbling with the keys and Bucky kissing you feverishly. You moan in unison as you stand on the tips of your toes to hold onto his face when the door swings open. Steve tosses the keys, stripping away his flannel and pulling you out of Bucky’s grasp. Bucky has no time to be mad, instead kicking the door closed with the back of his shoe. The door slams and you jump, sighing when Steve picks you up and tosses you onto his exposed shoulder.

Bucky follows behind like a lost dog, wasting no time on tearing away his shorts and boxers, fumbling through his dresser drawer for two condoms.

“Shouldn’t we warm her up first, Buck?” Steve asks, removing his shorts while you do the same with your skirt.

“Nah. She wants to act like a slut so we’ll fuck her like one. Cockhungry whores don’t get special treatments.” Bucky replies, each word hitting your core.

“Is that what you want? To be fucked like a senseless slut?” Steve moves his hand under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. Before you can reply, you get distracted by the faint ‘schlick’ the condom makes while Bucky slides it onto his twitching cock. “Answer me.” He demands, gently slapping the skin of your cheek.

You moan at the sensation, a meek ‘yes’ floating in the silent room.

“She’s into that rough shit. I’ll make sure to ruin her good.” Bucky meant for it to be a silent thought to himself but you heard it, rolling your eyes back into your head.

“I need both of you at once, I can take it.” You utter, your voice smaller than you intended it to be.

“Shit, she’s insatiable. Hurry up, Ste. Can’t keep her waiting, can we?”

Steve nods and carefully rips open the Magnum, stroking his aching cock before stretching the rubber around it.

“You ready, sweet thing?” Steve asks, moving to position himself behind you while Bucky situates himself between your legs from the front.

“Mh–” You’re cut off by a quick intrusion, the words on your tongue morphing into a loud moan.

Bucky’s cock sinks into your tight cunt with ardor while Steve fills your ass to the brim. You’ve never felt so full. Thinking back to your conversation with Kennedy you feel for your phone and grab it from under the pillow, flipping to the camera on shaky hands.

“We good to move, baby?” Steve asks quietly between closed teeth.

You nod, allowing yourself to get used to the feel. Your eyes screw shut and you throw your head back, back arching up into the air to expose your tits to Bucky. Steve sighs as the tip of him envelops in the warmth of your tight hole. He presses himself a little deeper inside, slowly filling you up until you were sure you couldn't take anymore, and then you did. His pace moving inside of you was agony as he stretches you like a rubber band.

Bucky’s tip hit the wet spongy spot inside of you without trying, his thick length making it impossibly hard to feel anything but him. He let out a heavy breath, looking down at you with a focused stare. "You're so fucking tight for such a dumb slut." he told you, straining to control himself as you clench around him. You take it graciously, nothing but heavy breaths and shallow whines escaping from you as you stretch around him.

Your lips form to say something, but the words die on your tongue as Steve slowly moves to pull out of you. He stops at the tip before pushing back inside, not quite fully seated back inside of you as he builds a steady pace. It was slow and gentle enough to make you feel like crying.

You were speechless, breathless, as you relish in the burn. You bury your face in the pillow next to your head, dropping your phone to grip them tightly as your fingers let you. When Steve pulled out to the tip again, he pressed one hand to your lower belly before he thrust into you.

The scream you let out was otherworldly when Steve and Bucky began to thrust in unison. Your core was lit aflame, clit throbbing painfully. It’s almost as if Steve could sense it, the way he maneuvered his hand down to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves. Bucky whimpered when you clenched around him, almost suffocating his cock. They watched with dark eyes as you struggled to take them at once like you promised you could.

Bucky takes Steve’s place and settles his hand on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you while he thrusts, the feeling of your body trying to take all of him making him impossibly harder. Steve was rutting himself into you from behind, watching the way your hole took everything it could get.

“Fuck, baby, you’re taking us so well. You were made for us – fuck – weren’t you?” Bucky praises, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You whimper in response, words falling flat no matter how hard you try to push them out. His cock drags in and out of you in the most delicious way, gathering a feeling of ecstasy you could never reach without him. He was so thick, so big, he was perfect. He whimpered into your ear as Steve relentlessly fucked into you, his face inches from your own. He practically growled into your ear, voice dripping with pleasure as he spoke. "Gonna fucking ruin you, needy fucking slut.”

Tears were gathering in the corner of your eyes as you raised your hand before your head to hold onto Steve’s tousled hair, gripping his locks as you tugged on them. You spoke through the haze of senseless euphoria, shaking your head. "Don't want anyone else. Want you, only you two."

When the tight coil of your orgasm became sharper you knew you couldn’t last. How could you when you have the two hottest men you’ve ever seen plowing into you at the same time? Your mind was blank, words escaping you. All you could make out was a faint ‘m gonna cum’ before the dam burst, your body convulsing as you ride out your high on the sensation of their cocks driving into you with no end in sight.

You held onto Bucky like he would slip away at a moment's notice as he continued to fuck into you. You thrashed and moaned as tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks.

“ShitShitShit, I’m gonna-” Steve didn't get to finish the word, interrupted by a shout as he finally came. His hips stuttered and your bodies pressed closely together as he came as deeply inside of the condom as he could. “F..Fuck, sweetheart!” Bucky followed right after, allowing the mind-numbing, vision-dulling pleasure to take over his body while he spilt his seed into the protective rubber. You were so tiny underneath them as each one huffed and moaned on top of you.

You blacked out for a second, coming back down to reality when Steve's sloppy kisses peppered the skin on your naked shoulder. All three of you had to catch your breaths, too wrapped up in the other to worry about anything but getting your breathing even before you blacked out. You stayed like that for a moment, basking in the feeling of each thick cock filling you up.

“Holy, fucking, shit.” Steve breathes out, slowly pulling himself out of your ass.

“I know, right?” Bucky huffs, reciprocating Steve’s action, removing himself from your puffy cunt.

“Can I… spend the night?” You request with a sigh, sitting up to end the video on your phone.

“You can stay the month if you want to, baby. Our little secret, right?” Bucky asks, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead while Steve cleans up.

“Our little secret.”

#fem reader #poc reader #fanfiction #woc reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu smut #bucky barnes #bucky smut #college au #frat au #frat!steve rogers #frat!bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x woc!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve smut #marvel #maiawrites #kidnap tw #smut #winter solider x y/n #winter soldier #winter solider smut

[rubynationwins]

Hard To Handle

Soft!Dark!Sebastian Stan x PlusSize!Handler!Reader (Fem!Reader) (RPF)

My Masterlist

Summary: You risk your safety trying to find Sebastian when he runs off, but you don’t understand why he’s so upset. As his handler, it’s your job to keep him in line. Plus, why would any man try something on a girl like you? He decides to show you just what men are capable of.

Warnings: 18+, minors plz go away, dark fic(or my attempt at one), dub/non-con, soft!dark!Sebastian, smut, enemies to lovers, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking, manhandling, choking, edging, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, angst, light dom/sub, swearing, fat shaming/name calling(not by seb), mentions of body image issues // If there are warnings I missed plz lmk so I can include them. In general, if this type of content is triggering for u DNI. Read at ur own risk

Word Count: 5,100

A/N- This is my first dark fic, or at least kinda dark? Idk but I hope you enjoy it! Seb is obviously OOC (since this is a dark fic) he’s also a bit of a brat😉 I tried my best w/ the Romanian but I don’t speak it so take it at face value plz. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story is also on my AO3 account, Ruby_Nation, but should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

I want to shoutout the writers who lured me to the dark side with their incredible fics @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @kinanabinks @angryschnauzer @lanadelreyscokewhor3​

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

Famous actor Sebastian Stan was a lot of things: charming, intelligent, insanely talented, a hilarious goofball, and, of course, drop-dead gorgeous. There was something about his chiseled jaw and hooded gaze that made it impossible to look away from the celebrity. What Sebastian Stan was not, however, was good at following rules. Your rules, to be exact. As his handler, you had specific stipulations set out for him to follow. But did famous actor Sebastian Stan listen to said rules? No, of course not. This made your job as his glorified babysitter immensely more challenging. Since, every time he disregarded your directives, you were the one who dealt with the repercussions. He knew this, and yet on the very first stop of his press tour, he decided to run off and galavant around an unfamiliar city unsupervised. 

5 hours earlier

When you arrived at the hotel with Sebastian, it was 7 pm. Your jet-lagged self was still on LA time, though, so it felt more like 9 pm to you. At least your room was nice, even if it was connected to Sebastian’s by a single door. You quickly changed out of your travel outfit, unpacked your toiletry bag-since hotel shampoo was a cruel joke-and went to the bathroom. After that, you walked over to the door that lead to Sebastian’s room and knocked. No answer. You knocked again, “Sebastian! We need to go over tomorrow’s itinerary.”  Still nothing. Luckily, the door was unlocked. A subsequent sweep of his quarters revealed that they were empty. 

Shit. 

That slippery motherfucker had once again escaped under your watchful eye. Okay, maybe not so watchful since you had been on the other side of a wall when he slipped away. But he was only out of eyeshot for about twenty minutes and he managed to not only fly the coop but also unpack all of his luggage. He had so many suitcases! How in the world did he unpack them all so fast? Not that it mattered, because when you found him you were going to handcuff him to one of those god-damn oversized suitcases. See how he liked lugging around an inconvenient charge for a change. 

Present

Now you were wandering around the nightlife district looking for the escaped actor. You stopped outside a bar that could only be described with the word “dive” in front of it. This had to be it since you had scoured every other location in the area that offered booze and/or entertainment. You had waded through drunken crowds in cramped bars, had enjoyed some nice piano music at a more upscale establishment, you had even witnessed a very flexible dancer shimmy up a pole and then drop back down it hanging on with only one leg. Still, Sebastian was nowhere to be found.

At one of the places, you thought you’d found him sitting on a stool at a bar with his back turned to you. You tapped his shoulder and instead found a drunken man in his 50s. The stench of bottom-shelf whiskey wafted off of him. He teetered in his seat on the verge of toppling over. He’d leaned towards you, either because he thought your touch had been a sign of womanly desire or gravity had finally caught up to his unbalanced state. Either way, you leaped back, smacking into a waitress carrying a tray of beer. The tray went flying. The beer went on you. 

So, you were in a particularly foul mood as you walked into the last bar on your quest to find the most annoying actor on the planet. You were soaked in cheap booze and out forty bucks you had used to comp the spilt drinks. It took one sweep of the bar’s interior to spot the man you had been trying to find for the past five hours. 

He was standing under dim lights in the back, surrounded by a boisterous group of men. The bastard was playing pool. By the carefree look on Sebastian’s face and the way he was joking around with his new buddies, his evening had been a lot less shitty than yours. You centered yourself, trying your best to reign in the anger thrumming through your entire being, and strode towards the man who made your job, no, your life, a constant stress-inducing nightmare. 

Sebastian stood at the far end of the pool table, lining up his cue stick to sink the last solid ball on the pool table. His relaxed demeanor was all confidence, but the slight furrow of his brow gave away how deeply he was focusing. You shoved your way through the loud men gathered around the table. When you finally reached Sebastian, you stopped at his side, glaring at him with murderous intent. You expected him to notice the waves of thinly veiled rage radiating from your presence right away. But instead of turning around to beg for forgiveness, he just kept staring at the ball in front of him, oblivious to your fuming state. At this point, you had had enough of this bullshit and just wanted to get back to the god-damn hotel.

“Hey, asshole!” You shouted so that your voice was heard over the roaring group of men. Unfortunately, since you were right next to his ear, you startled him. Sebastian jumped. The hand that was gripping his cue stick flew forward, sending the cue ball directly into a side pocket. Members of Sebastian’s team went into an uproar, furious about the scratch.

Sebastian whipped around, surprise and anger etched into his features, “Y/N?! What the hell? What are you doing here?” 

You were about to retort when a large hand grasped your shoulder and spun you around to face a man who looked like a frat bro mixed with a pickup truck. He fumed, “You just fucking cost us the game! I’m out two hundred bucks now, you fat bitch!” 

Normally, you were able to keep your cool whenever insults were thrown at you. Years of similar-looking asshats calling you all types of degrading names had given you pretty thick skin. However, there was something about this particular meathead that broke through it. The awful night you were having probably had something to do with it too. You stood on your tip-toes, getting up in his face, “What did you just call me? If I were you, I’d turn the fuck around, prick.” 

He lowered his head, closing the distance between the two of you even more. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of cigarettes and dollar store cologne, “And why’s that, little piggy?”

You saw red. You swung your fist back, about to go for a gut punch when a large body pushed between you and the truck man. Sebastian looked like he wanted to hit the other guy too, but instead, he wrapped a hand around your arm and held you at a distance.

In a flash, Sebastian’s cool demeanor returned, “I’m sorry about my… sister, Tod, she’s just in a bad mood right now, ya ‘know?” He gave the man a tight smile as if letting him in on a little joke.

You stepped forward to protest, “I am not his sis–” His grip on your upper arm squeezed tighter. “Ow!” you squeaked, but he just kept looking forward, not even glancing back at you.

Tod, formerly known as Pissface, seemed to accept Sebastian’s explanation. Apparently, though, he still felt the need to give his two cents on why you were in such a “bad mood” as Sebastian had put it, “Yeah. She’s probably on the rag, man.” 

You rolled your eyes, of course. Of course, a grade-A troll like him would say that. Of fucking course.

Pissface–Tod–continued to run his mouth, “I thought she was some stalker man, you guys don’t even look related.” 

Sebastian laughed humorlessly, “She takes after our mom.”

“Huh. Either way, you should put a muzzle on that thing,” Tod nodded towards you. You flipped him the bird and he sneered back at you. “Ugly fat chicks like you always have the bitchiest personalities,” he turned his head back to Sebastian, “Good luck getting any tonight if that’s your wingman.” With those departing words, the deadshit man walked off. Sebastian made no move to rebuke the insult. Instead, he pulled you towards the exit, only pausing to shove a wad of cash at a waitress to cover whatever expenses he’d racked up.

Sebastian burst through the exit door, your arm still clutched in his vice-like grip. He dragged you down the street before finally letting you go. 

You rubbed the spot on your arm he had held and swiveled to glare at the bar that was now almost out of sight. “God, what a douchebag. I’m glad he lost all that money,” you turned your gaze back to where Sebastian stood, illuminated by a lamppost, “why were you even on a team with a dick like him? I’m sure his friends weren’t any better. What’s wrong with y-” 

“Y/N, Shut up!” Sebastian yelled, his usually relaxed tone gone. You took a step back in surprise. His eyes stared daggers at you and there was a brooding aura around him all of a sudden. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his body was stiff as if holding back rage. For the first time since you had started working for him, Sebastian Stan was legitimately pissed off. He tended to be the one who rolled with the punches, who wasn’t bothered by anything. But now, he looked furious. And for whatever reason, his newfound anger was targeted at you.

You were immediately on the defensive, “What’s your problem? Why are you angry with me? Pissface back there was the one being an ass,” you took a few steps closer to him to prove that you weren’t intimidated by his menacing presence, “And I’m the one who has the right to be angry at you!”

He narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, leaning forward, as if talking to a petulant child, “And why is that?”

You let out a frustrated noise. “What do you mean, ‘why’? You snuck off again! Sebastian, you are so selfish, you know that!? I’ve been searching all over, by myself, trying to find you for the past–” you checked the time-“five and a half hours!” 

Your words made Sebastian pause, “You’ve been what?” he didn’t let you answer, “Why the hell have you been out here alone at night? And trying to start a fight with some wannabe pool hustler? You’re lucky I saved you from getting your ass handed to you back there.”

“I didn’t ask you to! I can handle myself just fine. I’m not some fragile doll, look at me,” you gestured to yourself, “I’m a big girl, I can fight my own battles.”

“You’re telling me you could have taken on that prick back there? What about all of his buddies, huh? You don’t think before you act, Y/N.” He said your name like an irritated parent reprimanding their child. “Why’re you so fuckin’ reckless!?” Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, “Y/N, you’re my handler, not my bodyguard. And even if you were, I still wouldn’t want you wandering around a strange new city at night by yourself.”

“Sebastian, that’s exactly what you did,” you deadpan.

“That’s obviously different, Y/N,” he said flippantly, brushing aside your very valid point, “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. You’re a woman, that makes you vulnerable. The world is full of dangerous people, Y/N. Especially men, who would do god knows what to you if given the opportunity. That’s true in any situation, but when you do this?!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, “You’re just asking for some random bastard to take advantage of you.”

He was missing the point, “Like I said before; you don’t have any reason to be so worked up. If I was smaller I’d understand your concern, but since I look the way I do, I don’t have to worry about being ‘taken advantage of’ as you put so lightly.”

“What does your size have to do with anything, Y/N?” 

You shook your head, he just didn’t get it. “My whole life I’ve been pretty much ignored by the entirety of the male species, and when they do notice me it’s to reaffirm how repulsive they find me. All because of my size,” your words tasted like bile, painful but true, “That fact doesn’t change when I’m out on my own or when it’s after sundown.” Why was he making you explain this? How could he not see what was so obvious to everyone else?

Sebastian’s voice was somber now, “That kind of thinking is going to get you hurt, Y/N. Or worse, killed.” 

Deep down you knew some of what Sebastian said was true but there was no way you were bowing down to his claims, “How would you even know? You have no idea what it’s like to be me. You never will.” His blue eyes were filled with concern and something else. Something you despised: pity. 

Finished with the conversation, you decided to stop sugarcoating your words, “Sebastian, get it through your thick skull, no man is going to violate me! I’m too big, too fat, too disgusting! I’m just not worth it!" You were out of breath with your words, and your eyes brimmed with spite-filled tears. Sebastian stared at you, wide-eyed and lips parted in disbelief at your outburst. You quickly turned away from him, trying to discreetly rub the tears from your eyes.

“We are done talking about this. As your handler, I am the one responsible for keeping you out of harm's way and fixing any screwups you cause. I will not apologize for doing my job by coming down here to find you. I am the one who lays down the law, not you.” You took out your phone. “Now, I’m calling us a ride and we’re going back to the hotel. That’s an order.” 

Quick steps sounded behind you and when you turned back around Sebastian was right in front of you, “What are you do–”

He snatched your phone away.

“Hey–”

Sebastian grabbed your now phoneless hand and tugged you towards a nearby ally. He kept hold of your wrist as you stumbled after him, confused. What was happening? Had he seen some paparazzi and was trying to hide? If so, he didn’t have to be so rough.

Once you were off the sidewalk and out of sight he pulled up short. You ran into him, unprepared for his sudden halt. Right as you were trying to pull free, he dropped your wrist. You stumbled forward and caught yourself on the brick wall in front of you.

Before you could right yourself, Sebastian was there, pressing his muscled body flush against your backside. What was happening? Startled, you tried to push yourself off the wall to get away from him. His hands shot forward and yanked your flailing fists behind your back. His right hand locked them in place with its strong grip. His left arm wrapped around your soft middle, fingers skimming your waist. It all happened so fast. You froze-too overwhelmed by Sebastian caging you against himself. His heated presence overpowered your senses. You couldn’t utter a single sound.

Sebastian was now devoid of the anger that had been coursing through his veins just a moment ago. His face nuzzled into your neck and shivers shot down your spine at the feel of his rough stubble scraping your skin. He breathed you in and let out a guttural sound. “You smell like beer,” he chuckled. The low rumble of his dark laughter slid over you like a velvety blanket. It caressed every nook and cranny of your body. He flicked his tongue against the base of your neck, sending tingles along your arms, “Taste like it too.”

“Seb-”

You tried to protest but his tongue returned to your skin and you were once again rendered speechless. He licked a languid stripe from the base of your neck up to the notch of your jaw, nipping at the sensitive flesh. You yelped. His rough lips curved into a devious smile as he continued his assault on your exposed throat. Sebastian must have felt your heartbeat increase under his touch because he nipped at your pulse point. He dug his teeth in deeper this time, almost breaking skin. Your cry of pain morphed into a groan of pleasure when he sucked at the spot and then smoothed his tongue over it. 

While his mouth continued to explore your throat, his left hand began its own expedition. It trailed up your stomach and landed on your right breast. When he squeezed and felt your hard nipple straining against the confines of your clothes, he let out a low growl. You gasped when he balled up the front of your blouse in his fist. He wouldn’t dare. He pulled down, tearing the still damp fabric apart. Before you had the chance to rebuke him for having the audacity to rip one of your favorite shirts, his hand once again cupped your breast, this time slipping underneath your bra. His thick fingers rolled over your sensitive nipple and the sound you made was something so obscene you couldn’t believe that you had just produced it. He rubbed your already swollen nub raw. His fingers pinched and plucked and squeezed until you were a writhing mess in his arms, trying to escape the overstimulation.

“Shh, shh, shh,” his lurid voice whispered in your ear, “it’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you. You’re doing just fine, sweetheart. God, you feel like perfection.” Suddenly, he stopped his ministrations and slid his hand up to your neck. He didn’t squeeze, just wrapped his fingers around your throat. He felt the thrum of your heartbeat against his thumb. Sebastian inhaled deeply, basking in your scent, “I knew you would be perfection,” 

He caressed the underside of your jaw with his calloused thumb and smiled when you shuddered at his touch. You were at his mercy, he was the one in charge now. It was he who made the rules and kept you in place, “You may think no man is ever looking at you, but trust me, I haven’t been able to look away since the day we met.” His tone was deceptively calm, but his heavy panting proved that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“You’re my every desire,” he growled, “do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about doing this exact thing? About pinning you down and touching every inch of you? Touching, caressing, squeezing your body until you’re a moaning mess. Unable to utter a single, infuriating word.” As he spoke he released his hold on your wrists, instead moving to the button of your jeans. He paused, his fingers skimmed over the clasp as if waiting to see what your next move would be. You couldn’t move, even if they were free now. You weren’t sure how he would react if you did, and you didn’t want to find out. This was not the Sebastian Stan you knew. This was something dark and unpredictable, something primal. A small part of your brain claimed that the real reason you didn’t fight was that you wanted him. That you wanted Sebastian to fuck you until you forgot your own name. “Good girl,” he remarked when you stayed still. You involuntarily preened at his praise, arching your back and grinding your ass against his crotch. He was hard, and from the feel of him, he was large. 

Sebastian hissed, sucking in a groan at the feeling of your ass against his throbbing erection, “You are infuriating, dragă,” he knew you despised his Romanian nickname for you. You had always assumed he used it to taunt you. You were nobody’s “darling.” Maybe he had been sincere this whole time. “You drive me crazy with every order, every scowl, every negative comment you throw at yourself.” He slipped his hand under your waistband, roaming down towards your sex. His fingers danced just above your heated center. “I think I’ve finally found a way to shut you up,” He cupped your mound, his chest rumbled when he felt the evidence of just how aroused you were. 

“S-Sebastian, please–” you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or for him to actually do something. Sebastian decided it was the latter and plunged a thick finger into your dripping pussy. 

He drew in a quick breath, “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart. Not sure if you’ll be able to take all of me-” he added another finger, working to get you ready-“but we won’t know until we try.” He continued to press and stretch your walls. When he added a third finger you lost it, giving up on holding back any sounds. The brief moments his palm brushed over your clit you mewled, desperate for more pressure on the pulsating bud. 

His hand that was still fisted around your neck squeezed before dropping down. He pushed down your pants even more so that they laid at your knees He pulled your thick thighs further apart, widening your stance for easier access to your drenched hole. When his fingers began an assault on your bundle of nerves you threw your head back, and obscene sounds flew from your lips. The fingers inside of you pressed against your G-spot and you started to tremble from the overstimulation.

Sebastian ran his chin along your jaw. The knowledge that he was making you come undone with only his hands was driving him crazy. He ground his clothed erection against your ass, smiling when you gasped at the feel of him. Focus back on you, he flattened his thumb on your clit, massaging it with precise motions. He was greedy for your release. 

It was all too much: Sebastian’s fingers pumping in and out of you, the exquisite pressure he was forcing upon your clit, the feel of his heavy breaths against your ear. You convulsed in his arms, your back arching up as molten lava flowed through your veins. 

You were still recovering from the high his fingers had just pulled from you, but Sebastian didn’t care. There was no way he was waiting another second to fuck you. He spun you around to face him. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hands moved to his pants. He pulled out his cock. It was thick and long, precum was already leaking from the tip. He stroked it from base to tip while his eyes devoured your disheveled state. Your breasts bounced with your every gasping breath. Your peaked nipples were still raw from his earlier torment. It looked like you might crumble that very second, too wrecked to stand up straight. You could barely hold your own weight, he had turned your bones into jelly. Sebastian smirked when he noticed the numerous marks he had left all over your neck and shoulders. His gaze wandered back to your face and his cock twitched when he saw the arousal clear in your eyes. Your irises were just thin halos of color shadowed by your blown-out pupils. It was a good thing he had already gotten you off because he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep from blowing his load once inside your velvety walls.

 “Look at me, dragă.” 

You refused, even though he had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life. There was something about this new position. You felt more vulnerable and didn’t want him to see that reflected in your expression. Instead, you turned your face away from his. That was a mistake.

Sebastian growled. He snatched your neck in his grip again, jerking your head forward to face him dead on. “What did I fucking say?” 

Your hazy focus zeroed in on him, hyperaware of the beating of your heart against his heavy palm. His fingers squeezed tighter and you rasped out, “To look at you.” 

His grip compressed even more, “Say my name. I want to make sure you know who’s in control now.”

It was a desperate fight for air to get the words out, “Y-you are-” He squeezed tighter- “Sebastian!” You managed to squeak out, seeing spots. His grip loosened enough for you to heave in a gasp of air, your body tingling from the return of oxygen to your veins. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, though, his intense blue eyes seemed to see into your soul, “You’re in control, Sebastian.”

“That’s a good girl, Y/N,” his low murmur was laced with warning, “You’re gonna take every inch I give you; gonna be a good girl for me,” his lips widened into an ominous grin, “I’m not going to hold back.” 

You gasped as he nudged your aching folds with the tip of his cock, running it up and down your pussy lips. He thrust into you without further warning. His lips met yours in a deep kiss at the same time. It was an overload of sensations, his tongue caressed the crease of your mouth, demanding entrance, while his hips pounded into you relentlessly. You arched into him, mewling at his unforgiving pace. Your hands flew up to his toned shoulders, gripping them so hard that Sebastian could feel the bite of your fingernails beneath his shirt. Finally prying your lips apart with his tongue, he crashed his lips onto yours, locking your tongues in a heated dance that took your breath away and left you wanting more. More of his mouth, more of his touch, more of him. 

Sebastian seemed to read your thoughts. He rutted into you with even more force. Your pussy walls ached at the stinging stretch of his thick cock. The hand that wasn’t around your neck grabbed your thigh. As he lifted it to wrap around his waist your pant leg slipped down to pool at your feet. His fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg up. The new angle allowed him to slide against your upper wall with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that sent shivers down your spine. He released his hold on your throat and brought it down to your center. When he massaged your clit with his dexterous fingers, you saw stars.

“Holy fuck,” you heaved, trying to get air in your lungs, “Sebastian! Oh my god, Sebastian-” All you could do was string together a jumble of incoherent words and moans and cries of pleasure-filled pain.

“Are you close, baby?” his raspy voice teased. He removed his hand from your core, resting it just above where you needed him. You whined at the loss and tried to grind up to reach fingers. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, “Awww, poor thing. Do you wanna cum, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, desperate for release.

“Use your words, dragă,” he tapped his fingers lightly, still too far away for the motion to give you any relief.

“Y-Yes, I want to cum,” you hoped that would be enough for him to take pity on your unruly state.

It wasn’t. “Then beg for it. You already got to cum once, why should a disobedient, aggravating slut like you get to cum again?” The angle of his thrusts changed, he was chasing his own release now. If you didn’t convince him, he wasn’t going to let you cum. You didn’t have the energy in you anymore to be defiant for the sake of your dignity. Screw dignity. All you knew was that you needed him to fuck you until you came undone on his fat cock.

“Please, please let me cum on your dick. It’s all I want. I need it,” His hips angled up to brush against your G-spot again, but he still didn’t touch your clit, “Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for what I did. Please forgive me, Sebastian, I need to cum. Make me cum on your thick cock. Please, Sebastian, please.” 

Sebastian tensed when you used his name, his hooded gaze darkened with a hungry desire at the sound of it coming from your lips. Satisfied, he brought his fingers back to your throbbing bud, “That’s my good girl.” You shrieked in delight. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.” He pressed harder against your clit, repeatedly rolling over the spot that made you squeal in ecstasy. 

He groaned at your sounds, “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to, sweetheart.” His hips pumped up into yours, driving you both further to the edge. Sebastian’s grunts and moans filled the space, “Cum for me, Y/N.” Sebastian ordered as he took you, “Wanna feel your perfect cunt milk my cock dry,” his words sent you hurtling over the edge, and with one more snap of his hips, you were gone. Your insides spasmed and your entire body convulsed from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his defined shoulders. Sebastian kept moving his fingers against your clit, making your pussy clamp around his massive cock even tighter. 

Sebastian buried himself to the hilt and his load exploded inside of you. “Holy fuck!” He roared as thick ropes of cum coated your quivering walls. His body shuddered at the impact of his release. He felt lightheaded. He dug his fingers into the plump flesh of your waist to ground himself. Your soft whimpers were like music to his ears. He pulled you to him, cementing his cock inside of your still trembling walls. He shifted his hold so that one arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His other hand came up to gently cradle the side of your face. You were too spent to try and object to his hold. It was like your bodies melded into one; his hard, sculpted edges melted into your soft, rounded curves. Sebastian drank in the feeling of you. He was never going to let you go. His fingers lifted your chin so that your eyes met his and he planted a chaste kiss on your lips. “Looks like you’re not as repellent as you thought, dragă.”

(P.S. I really like this handler!reader concept so I might make some more that are also stand-alone's.)

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fic #sebastian stan x fem reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #dark fic #dark!sebastian stan #soft!dark sebastian stan #dark!sebastian stan x reader #plus-size!reader #sebastian stan rpf #rpf #marvel rpf #mine #my writing #sebastian stan fanfiction #handler!reader #plussize!reader #dub-con #non-con #dub/non-con

[softguarnere]

I'm really happy right now because like i said i really love reading your works and i wasn't going to ask another writer if they can write an imagine for me 🥺 I'm an engineering student so can you write something like reader is a mechanical engineer in army and let's say there is a problem with weapons in Easy company so she is tasked with controlling and fixing the weapons. While there she hears the rumors about what Speirs did to Nazi POW's and begins to fear and disgust him because she is still a bit of humanist and this bothers Speirs because he has started to have feelings for the reader. I really like angsts with happy endings. I hope writing this is not a problem for you. Please don't force yourself and take care of yourself 💖🙏 (Also sorry for my shitty english i'm not a native speaker)

If You Strip Away the Myth From the Man

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Confession: I live in constant fear that I'm writing Speirs wrong. This was such a fun prompt, and I hope that I did it justice. (And don't worry about your English, Anon! It's very good, and I would be a hypocrite if I complained.) I hope you're also taking care of yourself, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️ This title comes from Heaven On Their Minds from Jesus Christ Superstar

(This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: language, mentions of war

Rumors, you’re starting to realize, move faster than anything else in the army. If orders and supplies could move as fast as rumors do, then maybe the war would have been over by Christmas the way that everyone kept claiming that it would be. Then you wouldn’t have spent those terribly cold days in Bastogne, freezing in the cold earth in between running from different locations, trying to adjust and fix various weapons whenever the army ordered you to do so.

But if not for that, then you wouldn’t have been brought here – to Easy Company in Haguenau.

It’s not the first time that you’ve visited this particular company. You’ve linked up with them before, briefly exchanged pleasantries with the men while you fix whatever problems they might be having with their weapons. Some of their faces have become recognizable, but their names have eluded you.

Until now.

With the end of the war so close at hand – allegedly; it’s all being said by the same people who claimed that the war would be over by Christmas – the army isn’t willing to risk anything going awry. That’s why they’ve assigned a munitions expert to every company for the foreseeable future. Which is fine by you. At least now you won’t be running to and fro with no clear sense of what might happen next. It seems to be fine with the men of Easy Company, too, seeing as they welcome you with open arms . . . And they certainly waste no time in letting you in on the company’s history and hearsay. Especially, it would seem, when it regards their new Captain.

“He wasn’t in charge the last time I paid you guys a visit,” you remark, nodding to the tall man walking by with purposeful strides.

“Who, Speirs?” One of the men – Sisk, you’re pretty sure by this point – clarifies. He lowers his voice, even though the captain in question is already out of earshot, having disappeared into one of the tattered building’s other rooms. “Yeah, if there’s one thing we like to do around here, it’s cycle through captains.”

The last person you can remember being in charge of Easy was Winters. He seemed like a fine man, and the men all seemed to like him. That was back in Holland. God, it feels like forever ago now. You tell Skinny as much.

He laughs. “You’re behind on the times. There were more after Winters. But Speirs has been one of the best we’ve had since him.”

“Yeah, especially after Dike,” another man – Liebgott – adds.

The funny guy – Luz, you remember – laughs. “There’s someone who set the bar real low.” Then, in a serious voice that you’ve rarely heard him use, “Speirs really has been good.”

The rest of the men who are hanging out in the supply room nod in agreement.

“Yeah, and he seems to like us really well. Doesn’t have to worry about keeping us in line,” someone else snickers. The men all laugh at that.

Okay, so there’s a joke there, you think. One that you’re not privy to. And the men must realize it too, because their smiles fall when they notice that you’re not laughing along with them.

“You haven’t heard?” Skinny asks. “The stories about Speirs, I mean.”

Rumors? Or stories? Either way, you haven’t heard much about Easy’s new captain, other than that he’s new and, apparently, there are stories about him. You shake your head.

Luz whistles. “Well then, (Y/L/N), you’ve got some catching up to do.”

. . .

One of the good things about your job is that you mostly stay around privates and NCOs. Officers only come to you if they have a question, and that’s a rarity. You don’t mind the officers of Easy. From what you’ve seen, they’re wonderful leaders. However, after hearing the stories about Speirs in the week or so since you’ve joined the company, you’re glad of an excuse not to be around him – a goal that is becoming harder by the day.

Speirs has been spending more time than usual among the privates and the NCOs. No one else seems to mind, if they notice, but your heart turns to a block of ice every time that you see him enter the room. For God’s sake, this man is a murderer, and they’re letting him walk around free? It’s one of the stranger things that you’ve experienced since joining up.

Maybe it’s because of what he did at Foy. Running headfirst into danger to link two companies and then running back? It doesn’t even seem possible. That newest story seems to be what the men of Easy Company are most focused on. Impressive, yes, but you can’t think of it without also thinking of the stories of the POWs he mowed down in cold blood, after offering them cigarettes, of all things.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned since the war started, it’s that seeing combat makes some people lose their humanity and their morals. You’ve been lucky enough to hold onto yours. Even though sometimes it feels like your grip is slipping or that you’re holding on so tight that the effort makes your fingers ache, at least you’ve retained your decency. And you won’t let it go now.

“Morning, Captain Speirs!” McClung calls out as the captain enters the room for breakfast.

The captain nods his greetings to the other men, who keep talking as if nothing has happened. They used to fall silent when he walked into a room, as if the sound of their amiability would set him off. Now they continue on as if any of the other men have walked into the room. Sometimes they even try to invite him into a joke.

You, though, cannot forget the stories that you’ve heard. There is still goodness in the world, even if people like Captain Speirs cannot handle knowing that. When he takes a seat a few people down on the other side of the table, you avert your eyes and engross yourself in a story that Heffron is telling instead of acknowledging the presence that you cannot help feel is always keeping an eye on you.

Paranoia, you tell yourself, is a hell of a thing.

. . .

Laughter is the first thing that Speirs notices when he approaches the basement where all the men are having their breakfast. It doesn’t stop when he enters the room this time, like he’s snuffing out a flame. Some of the men even nod to him in greeting when he shows up in the mornings. For all the rumors that trail behind him – he’s aware of them; rumors always have a way of reaching their subject – it would seem that his men have either elected to ignore them or have forgiven his supposed sins.

Well, the men have, anyway. The new munitions expert, (Y/L/N), doesn’t seem to care much for him. He’s assuming that’s because of the rumors. It has to be. Any time that he enters a room, she used to make the same frightened look that all the men were constantly giving him after the jump into France. Now she won’t even look at him most of the time. When she does, it’s only to glance at him before looking away again, like she’s disgusted by his presence.

Speirs didn’t join the military to make friends. No, when he was drafted he knew that he needed to perform his duty to his country. The rumors that have begun to cling to him are a side effect of turning into a soldier. Gossip never bothered him very much. And neither did the scared looks people gave him.

Until now. For some reason it bothers him that you won’t even so much as look in his direction. Sometimes he even finds himself wondering what he can do to change that.

Today he greets his men, takes his breakfast – er, what bland food is passable enough that they’ve started calling it breakfast – and turns to find a seat among the others. Before he can question his own intentions, he moves with long, quick strides to the seat across from you.

“Morning, Cap,” several of the men greet him.

“Morning,” he replies, trying to ignore the way that you freeze at the sound of his voice and the way that your eyes go wide when you look up at him. His stomach drops. This is like being fifteen and getting rejected by the girl that he likes all over again. Something about it is nerve-racking and devastating all at once.

Maybe he should have brushed off all those rumors back when he had the chance – back before they clung to him so tightly that the myth became inseparable from the man.

. . .

The day after the patrol is atypical. Sleep eludes most everyone, despite the events of the night. Those who can catch a few moments of rest. Everyone else tries to stay out of their way, careful not to make too much noise. It’s unusual to see the men of Easy Company so subdued, their moods somber and their voices quiet.

The deck of cards you managed to nick while Luz wasn’t looking are a comforting weight in your hand as you walk the halls of the skeletal building. Heffron always seems to be up for a game of cards. And if not him, then surely someone else will be willing to play, eager to distract themselves after the events of the night.

“ – did all you could,” a voice in a room up the hallway from you is saying. It’s familiar, but its tone is . . . gentle and . . . reassuring.

Slowly, you inch forward, wanting to see if the voice really does belong to him – if he really is capable of being so soothing – but not wanting to interrupt the conversation. Or worse, make it seem like you’re eavesdropping. (Which, technically, is exactly what you’re trying to do. No one else needs to know that, though.)

The disheartened voice of Doc Roe answers. Funny, you’ve never heard his voice sound so dispirited. Somehow, the roles in the conversation have been flipped.

“We still lost a man,” Roe says. “Is there any way we can get more supplies? I know they’re hard to come by right now, but I don’t feel prepared.”

A beat of silence follows. You’re by the doorway now. Carefully, you peek around to see Roe and Speirs in the room. Roe looks upset and Speirs looks inscrutable, as usual. You watch as he thinks for a moment before he reaches out and claps Roe on the shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures the medic. “But Doc, you did all you could. Remember that.”

Roe nods. “Thank you, Captain.”

Quietly, you move back from the doorway as their meeting ends and footsteps approach. Thankfully it’s Doc who exits the room, and he closes the door behind him. He’s still for a moment and lets out a sigh. You don’t move, but he turns to you anyway and offers a small smile as he starts down the hall in your direction.

“You know,” he says as he passes you. “Captain Speirs is really an understandin’ guy underneath all that toughness.”

Then he continues down the hall, leaving you standing there, alone, considering what you just overheard: something soft and unexpected – much different from the Speirs you know . . . or think you know.

. . .

Rules are a fickle thing. They probably exist in Austria in some form or another. Yet no one seems to know what they are, and those who hint that they do don’t seem too keen to follow them. The mountainous landscape quickly becomes a place of fun and fraternization. Not to mention any of the other activities that the army would surely frown upon. Like the looting.

“I’ll trade you,” Perconte entices you for the hundredth time.

“Perco, what do you need with another watch?”

The Italian smiles. “Just startin’ a collection, (Y/N). And I intend for it to be the best in the whole army.”

“Uh huh. But you want this watch why?”

Maybe it’s the heat of the spring afternoon, but it looks like a shade of pink tinges Perconte’s cheeks. He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. “All I have are men’s watches. And that one – “ he nods to the one on your wrist. “ – is exactly what I got in mind for a certain girl back home.”

“Awe, Perco. Who’d have guessed that the war would turn you so sentimental?”

“Shut up.”

The watch you brought from home was broken during basic training on an obstacle course. Your second one got scratched up at some point after the Allied Invasion, and continued to get worse until one day you looked down and realized that you couldn’t tell the time on it. You only kept it on because its familiar weight was somewhat of a comfort. Now, in Austria, with so much finery everywhere, it wasn’t hard to find a new one. Still, it’s not exactly anything special – just a slim but study leather band holding a beautiful gold watch face. It’s practical, if not a little hard to read the small numbers.

Maybe Perconte isn’t the only one that the war has turned all sentimental. It’s sweet that he’s thinking of someone back home that he wants to impress. Besides, you can always find a new watch.

It unclasps easily and you hand it over to him, watching his smile grow. “I hope she likes it.”

“Gee, thanks (Y/N)! You’re a lifesaver!” He thumps you on the shoulder before taking off with the watch, whistling while he goes. You watch him, smiling to yourself. Home is on the horizon. All anyone can do is hope for someone as thoughtful as Perconte to have remembered them fondly enough to give them a token of their affection.

“He’s in a good mood.”

You freeze as you register the presence by your side. Like Hades and his Helm of Darkness, Speirs has materialized out of nowhere. When did he get here?

“Yes, Sir. He is.”

“Say,” Speirs says casually. “You wouldn’t happen to have the time, would you?”

What an odd question. You turn to face him, only to find an unfamiliar expression on his face. He wants you to answer, even though it seems like he knows exactly what answer to expect from you.

“No, Sir. I just gave my watch to Perconte.”

“Oh. That’s inconvenient.”

“I suppose it is.”

Speirs digs in his pocket. “Well, no one should walk around not knowing what time it is. How about you take this one?”

In his hand, when he extends it to you, is a beautiful silver watch. A bit bigger than the one you just gave away, and definitely flashier. Diamonds encrust the watch’s face like a crown on a monarch. The silver band looks more delicate than the leather one you’ve grown used to in the past few days, but it’s undeniably beautiful.

For some reason, you nod. You extend your own hand to receive the watch.

“Here,” Speirs says. “Allow me.” His voice rises slightly at the end, like it’s a question. He pauses, once again waiting for your answer. When you nod, he takes your hand and carefully fastens the watch onto your wrist. You’re standing so close that all you can do is pray that he doesn’t notice the way that his fingers ghosting over your wrist makes your breath hitch in your throat. He’s unexpectedly gentle. You never would have imagined that his hands – which have wielded such unbridled violence, so you’ve heard – could be so soft.

“There,” he says when he’s done. He smiles as you turn your wrist, admiring the gift. “It’s beautiful. Silver suites you.”

Anything that you might have hoped to say, even a thank you, gets lost in the haze of his unexpected words. How can this man who stands before you be the same one who mowed down POWs in cold blood, or who shot his own sergeant? And why is he showing such kindness to you?

Finally, you manage to clear your throat. “Thank you, Captain Speirs. You’re very kind.”

He nods, smiling in a way that you’ve never seen before. He turns to go, but you step forward to stop him.

It’s strange, the way that things have of unexpectedly falling into place while we watch on, helpless to stop our own actions. Yet something about this Speirs is so . . . different from everything you’ve heard.

But not what you’ve seen, you think, remembering the conversation you caught him having with Doc Roe. Maybe you should find out more about this version of Speirs before he slips away.

“Captain,” you say with a pounding heart. “I was just about to go find something to eat. I was wondering . . . I was wondering if you might like to join me?”

Speirs’ smile grows. “I would like that very much.”

Before either of you can change your mind, you begin walking down the Austrian streets together. You’ve been with Easy Company for a while now and have grown close with most of the men. It’s high time that you got to know your Captain; the real version of him – not the one that everyone else introduced you to.

“So,” you begin. “Where are you from?”

#ron speirs x reader #ron speirs #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfic #hbo war #my writing