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#i’ve been thinking about making this edit for months now
strifesolution · 1 year
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floral-hex · 5 months
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I wonder if any of my mutuals are doing nanowrimo this year. Is that still a thing that people do?
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Joe Keery out here writing songs for Will Byers 🎼
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134340am · 2 years
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after i finish my 200 frens celebration requests, post some overdue kisses + work husband!kuroo + spy!suna and this lame angsty armin fic, i’m planning to write a crazy amount of smut 🥲 so… please look forward to that (jk please don’t) (for real please don’t)
#i need to ~ diversify my portfolio ~ and write different things yknow#i actually write a lot of angst but i don’t post it because it’s messy and hard to edit 😭#wehhhhhhh i have so many projects i wanna do and i’m planning another series next month but…!#what if i abandon it 😵‍💫#also i’ve been crazy busy lately shdhbdjdjjsd#they gave me new things to do at work and it’s like double my usual workload#it’s also hard to do and no one’s rly around to answer my questions so#i’m struggling to learn some stuff on my own sobs#i used to have time to write in the afternoon when work is slow but#now i’m busy as heckkkkk and i don’t have much time to write at night either because i m always tired and uninspired#and because i read quite a lot for work i don’t feel like reading much nowadays which makes me feel bad because#i m here as a reader before a writer but i feel like i haven’t been doing both (well) lately ack#idk i’m just!!! bz!!! it’s disturbing my inner peace because i m anxious about work#but okay whatever i’m gonna sleep early#i outlined some drabbles and wrote half of one today#will post another one tomorrow around this time#aaaaaand everyone picked really interesting cha#characters so!!! i’m excited to write :)#i think there r no repeats (character wise) between my 100 and 200 frens events?#not sure if it’s a coincidence or people just wanna see me write new characters!!! either way it’s fine and i’m excited#writing is fun i’m so glad i started this blog#it’s given me something productive and enjoyable to do outside of work and honestly it’s keeping my life on track LOL#i’m happy ☺️☺️☺️ n grateful to have this outlet and to have met so many people who love writing and the same characters as i do#ok sorry for rambling LOOOOOOL i feel like i just wrote my entire life story out#hello yuna
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onlyswan · 4 months
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summary: in which jungkook loves to see you smile and you are the god of mischief.
idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff / word count: 2.6k
content/warnings: mention of childhood insecurity, mention of biting during s*x, jk is very touchy, they watch a movie and the guard thinks they’re doing sumn nasty bc they’re both a menace honestly 😭, jk accidentally bites his lower lip and bleeds
> in which masterlist!
note: hi !! this is a repost of a drabble i wrote two (?) years ago but accidentally deleted lololol so if you’ve read it before that’s why! but this is now an edited version with a new title <3
“baby,”
jungkook calls your attention out of nowhere, pausing the movie playing on the tablet you’re holding. the frown painted on his face is difficult to miss.
“i have a question.”
“so randomly?” you raise an eyebrow. “ask me then.”
“why do you cover your face when you’re happy?”
the wide-eyed look of genuine curiosity on his face is identical to yesterday’s, when he asked you what the word ineffable meant after hearing it in a song.
the question prompts you to take a glance at the screen, where a sophisticated woman has a hand over her mouth as she giggles with her elite acquaintances about an old but classic rich husband joke.
“it’s not that it bothers me, i just- i’ve noticed it lately and i-i wish to see you smiling and laughing more freely, you know?” he tries his best to choose his words carefully, offering you a kind smile as he lovingly caresses your head. “it makes me happy when i see you happy.”
“oh,” you blink at him, mind going blank as you attempt to form an answer in your head. his touch isn’t exactly helping you either— you just want to melt into him and not think of anything at all, float on cloud-nine and stay there forever.
however, seeing as he asked you the question out of the blue, he must’ve been thinking about it a lot. you’ve only been dating for a few months, so it’s understandable for him to eagerly seek the answers to his curiosities and observations. if anything, it feels nice to learn he gives this much attention to you— possibly notices things you don’t even know about yourself. for a split second the thought crosses your mind, that beyond a consciousness, you are tangible and real.
“it’s a habit i guess? when my teeth were falling out for the first time as a kid, i became insecure, so i decided that i’d just smile without showing my teeth from then on. like this.”
you demonstrate by lifting up the corners of your lips.
“and yeah-”
as if he’s helplessly pulled by the magnet of attraction, he leans down to kiss you and interrupt your sentence.
“i’d cover my face when i couldn’t contain my smile or laugh. and even when they grew back, it felt weird. like my smile didn’t belong to my face? if that even makes sense.”
“yah, that’s not true! you’re very pretty whether you’re smiling, or crying and-” his warm hand cups your cheek, and he stupidly grins as he’s about to say something cheesy. “even when you’re just breathing.”
the corners of your lips rise again. this time, it’s genuine.
“oh? how romantic.” you scrunch your nose cutely, and his heart flutters.
you hold onto his wrist, revelling in the way his thumb softly traces shapes on your skin.
“i’m over that, though. it was so long ago. i don’t think about it obsessively anymore at least. it’s really just a habit i haven’t gotten rid of.” you reassure him, meaning every word that you say.
we all have our secrets and fears that we keep only to ourselves, that much is understood between the two of you. there are circumstances in which withholding information is necessary. however, the one big promise you made to each other is to never lie. honesty and trust. ease and consolation. every word, every syllable hanging from your lips an addition to the naked history of your love. passed down stories. confessions. blurry memories. shutter sounds. curses. laughter. song dedications. that much is true.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smile, beguiled by his love drunk eyes seemingly stunned by your mere presence beside him.
“like what, baby?”
you shy away from his gaze. “like you’re either thinking that i hang the stars on the sky every night… or that you want to eat me alive.”
to confirm your words true, he takes your hand and sinks his teeth on the flesh of your palm where your thumb is connected. his wide doe eyes peer at you innocently, sparkling like of a little kid eating the fluffy pancakes he’s been craving since last night.
the latter might sound like a joke to others, but jungkook does eat you alive. almost. basically. you’re not even shocked at the act anymore. soon enough, you’ll memorize the mark of his teeth carving their mark on your skin, both in sexual and non-sexual setting.
“babe,” you send him a bewildered stare. “i really don’t think i taste as good as you make me out to be.”
he parts away with his eyebrows knitted in disagreement. “not true. you’re yummy.”
“oh, shut up!” you burst into a fit of giggles. your hands automatically attempts to fly to your face, but he has your wrists bound with his secure grip. you don’t resist. you only laugh harder when your sight lands on your hands tangled together.
“there’s ____’s beautiful smile.” he coos, proceeding to pepper your face with appreciative kisses.
and you fold. your back lands on the soft mattress, and your belly starts aching from laughter when he purposely blows on the spot on your neck where you’re most ticklish. hot tears gather at the corner of your eyes, and jungkook watches them fall down your temples as his lips graze your skin and your body shakes underneath him.
tears of joy and pleasure are the only tears you’re going to shed, he promises himself. you’re going to smile and make flowers bloom everyday, he promises you and the earth.
your teeth chattering from the cold is a shy away from your awkward smile, he notices the endearing resemblance as you shiver beside him.
“hmm, what did i tell you about cinema one?” he teasingly asks as he draws back the armrest that serves as a divider between the two of you.
“that it’s fucking cold in there-” you surrender, tone sounding annoyed. “here. whatever!”
“and who still decided to wear their smallest pieces of clothing?” he continues to taunt you while he pulls you into his body’s natural warmth.
you sigh, whether it’s in relief or annoyance, you’re not quite sure.
“i just wanted to wear my new cute clothes.” you whisper-shout.
the giant screen is still playing trailers of the upcoming movies this year, and you’re already mentally updating your calendar to accommodate them despite your hectic schedule. a two-hour vacation, you would always describe films.
he chuckles, and more shivers run down your spine at the deep and raspy sound being so close to your ear. “you do look cute today, baby.”
he catches the cloth of your skirt between his fingers, and somehow, he ends up squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh. you swallow thickly, unconsciously closing your thighs together and trapping his hand in between them.
“thank you, handsome.” you grip his wrist to move it away. you tut. “no silly business, though. i really want to watch this movie.”
his shoulders drop dramatically in disappointment. “okay… want to sit on my lap so i can keep you warm then?”
you look behind you to see that there’s no people sitting on your side, so no one’s view would get blocked if you were to agree to his proposition. the room is practically empty, with a few scattered people sitting on the sides.
you spend the first fifteen minutes of the movie in comfort and bliss, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. he took off his jacket earlier, and he splayed it over your lap as to not neglect the goosebumps rising all over your freezing legs.
“so stubborn,” jungkook muttered under his breath while he was taking off the jacket, an amused smile etched on his lips. you would’ve felt bad, but you knew he likes doing these things for you, so you only playfully stuck your tongue out at him.
look, to be fair, it is your first time in this cinema. you’ve been on many dates at this theater with jungkook, but for some reason, you’ve never watched a movie in cinema one until tonight. it’s cold in the other three cinemas as well, the kind of cold you’ve gotten comfortable with, so when jungkook booked the tickets last night and told you ‘it’s really cold in there, wear something warmer,’ you thought he was just being ridiculous.
hah, how cold could it possibly be? right?
fine, jungkook is right. you are stubborn.
and you prove it once more when a flashlight shines over your face. the security guard holding it approaches your seat- wait, no, jungkook’s seat. jungkook is your seat. what?!
“i’m sorry, but only one person can sit on the chair. please comply.”
you trace the direction of her eyes to find jungkook’s hands tucked underneath the jacket on your lap, resting on your inner thighs to steal their warmth. you send him a sharp glare, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. he only shrugs, obviously hiding a smirk as he pretends to be the most innocent person in the room.
you pull up the armrest next to you with a pout, slipping back into your original seat against your wishes.
“he was just warming up his hands. i promise!” you whisper not so subtly to the guard.
she only clears her throat and awkwardly nods in response, walking up the stairs to observe the rest of the movie watchers.
you bury your face in your hands as your body vibrates with mirth mixed with humiliation, and jungkook’s jaw nearly falls on the floor.
“sometimes i can’t believe you’re real. how do you never get shy?”
“i was just clearing things up!” you whine, hitting his arm using the side of a closed fist, which he massages with a squeaked ‘ouch.’ “you’re the one who put me in a compromising situation!”
“well, nobody told me taking care of my girlfriend was a crime!”
you carry on with watching the movie after that embarrassing scene, and you’ve forgotten that you’re cold until you’re uncontrollably shivering again. you begin rubbing your arms in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the goosebumps, but you eventually abandon all hope.
you sadly look over at your boyfriend to plead for help once more, but he has gotten too engrossed with the film to feel a pair of shaking pupils beseech him intensely. he finally opened the box of popcorn he’s been saving for the climax.
and he was the one who wanted to do something other than watch the movie.
you grimace.
you are no stranger to his confusing attention span.
after carefully studying the room to ensure the guard is no longer in sight, you unceremoniously climb on jungkook’s lap again. your actions cause some pieces of popcorn to fall from the box, and he scrambles to stuff them all in his mouth before the powder stains any of your clothes. yours are new, after all.
his face displays a puzzled expression, screaming i thought this was supposed to be a compromising situation?! and his soft rosy cheeks on the other hand-
“you look like a chipmunk who got caught in the headlights stealing food with its mouth full.”
the screen flashes a frame of the clear, blue sky in the aftermath of a ferocious storm. it sends the fleeting sunlight to shine on your face— just long enough for him to capture the image of how pretty you are when you giggle, and most of all, how your hand moves to cover your face, but drops on his arm before it could reach its intended destination.
he recognizes it as a conscious effort, and he feels a tug in his heart. his sweet, precious lover. you will never do anything wrong in his eyes, he thinks to himself as he hugs you closer for a kiss. the feeling of your smile against his lips might just be one of his most favorite things in the world.
he pulls away with a toothy grin to match yours, offering you the box of popcorn. the beautiful smile you claimed to not belong on your face lingers as you turn it down and sip on the lemonade instead. and then it simmers down to your usual mellow smile, to a deep frown, until your lips quiver as the resolution of the film reduces you into a puddle of tears.
jungkook likes to keep mental notes about you.
an excerpt from today:
1. how to make ____ smile? act cute.!! :)
2. how to make ____ cry? watch a son and mother reunite after eighteen long years.
p.s. i think i cried harder, but quieter ????
3. how to make ____ angry mad furious? kill off the said mother unnecessarily at the end of the movie for the sake of shu shock value.
the lights turn on all at the same time as the credits start rolling down on the plain black screen. your body slumps back on your boyfriend, drained by the series of overwhelming events that transpired in the past two hours. he waves his hand infront of your face, but your eyes remain unfocused and unblinking.
“this is the worst movie i have ever seen in my life. four out of five stars.”
he snorts at your unseriousness. “that is the most stars you’ve given this month. and it’s the 29th.”
“see? it’s the worst! i’m going to have nightmares!” you cry out with an exaggerated shudder, grabbing his forearms to envelope yourself in his embrace.
“honestly, pushing her off the cliff was a bit too mu-” his sentence gets rudely cut off when your shoulder accidentally hits his chin. you scrambled to go back to your seat, and this escalated to him accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip. the unusual mix of the bitter and salty taste of metal permeates his tongue as an unexplainable expression spreads across his face.
on the other hand, you’re too preoccupied with mischievously smiling at the guard standing down on the floor. she measures you up with a displeased look worse than earlier’s, but much to your relief, she proceeds to walk out after scanning the room one last time.
“baby!” jungkook yells in pain to grab your attention, jutting out his bottom lip to show you the wound that you inflicted.
“oh my god- shit, shit, shit-” you curse, digging your hand in your bag in search of your handkerchief. “i’m so sorry!”
you press the cloth on the bleeding, profusely apologizing to him with a wince. “i panicked! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”
he pushes your wrist away for a moment, doe eyes squinting at you accusingly. “you just wanted to play around with her, didn’t you?”
you chew on your bottom lip, the sight of blood that has stained the handkerchief sends a pang of guilt across your chest. “sorry… her face- she was just so funny.”
“fuck, why are you like this?!” he throws his head back with a bright laugher that echoes throughout the theater. “ah, you’re so adorable!”
“come back here!” you scold him, holding his face in your hands to crane it back down.
he juts out his bottom lip again, but his body continues to vibrate with lighthearted chortles.
“does it hurt?”
“it hurts…! i think i might seriously cry!” he answers despite his high tolerance for pain, distorting the truth so that he could drown himself in the gratifying feeling of being doted on by you.
he writes another mental note as you inspect his wound, repetitive bloopers playing in the background of the love bubble the two of you share.
4. ____ likes playing games with strangers. must protect with my life.
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
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aaagustd · 3 months
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holi-blaze || jeon jungkook (m)
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title: holi-blaze
pairing: dealer!jeon jungkook x (f)reader
genre/rating: f*ckbuddies/unestablished relationship, smut, mature/explicit, 18+
summary: it's your first time spending the holidays together, and jungkook isn't in the mood. but... you think you can change his mind.
warnings: listen…..“that’s OUR man, thank you to OUR man!!!”, swearing, mentions w**d, mentions Christmas/holidays, protected s*x but mentions unprotected s*x, spanking, reader wears lingerie, a** worshipping, back shots, missionary, b*ndage/restraints, f*ngering, teasing/foreplay, a touch of roleplay (Jungkook might have a little crush on Martha May Whovier), back scratching, praise, squ*rting, tongue kissing, make up s*x, Dom/sub themes, n*pple sucking, biting, begging, some aftercare, mistletoe… or not??, idk why i’m smiling but i love them lol
wc: 2.5k
release date: december 30th, 2023; 11:33pm est
note: it’s been about 4 months since i posted. this is embarrassing. anyway, i didn’t edit this bc i didn’t have a computer. this’ll be the last update for this series for a while so i hope this holds you. i have a bigger project i’m working on currently so… i hope to see you in 2024. love you !!
series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 version | inbox | join the taglist
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“Aye, I’m home! Where are…”
Jungkook finds you standing in his living room when he enters his apartment. He probably expected to find you bundled up on the couch watching a holiday marathon, and that’s exactly what you plan on doing.  
That was until you walked in and discovered everything he’s been hiding from you. Now you know why he hasn’t invited you over in two weeks.
All month he’s been complaining about the holidays and pissing on your parade whenever you get excited about the TikTok holiday DIYs. Only for him to decorate his entire living room like it’s a Holiday Cheermeister. He definitely has outdone himself with this surprise. Now, it’s time to return the favor.
His keys fall on the floor, and you can only imagine what’s going through his mind.
“Oh…” He takes a long pause, processing the image before him. “Damn, love.”
You hope that’s a good sign. This is your first time wearing lingerie, and you aren’t even sure if Jungkook is into it.
“Um… Your keys?”
“Come here,” he beckons.
Your marabou heels move across the floor, feathers tickling your oiled skin with each step. Your matching robe—thin and sheer—barely conceals your lack of clothing underneath it. You can feel the fabric dragging behind you as it's carried by a gentle breeze.
Jungkook’s brown eyes never look away as you strut in his direction. When you approach him, you’re nearly swept off your feet by how good he smells. 
His finger motions for you to spin and show him the entire outfit.
“Twirl, baby.”
You purposefully take your time and give him the 360 view, letting your robe fall once your back is facing him. You’re starting to feel a bit more confident now that you’ve gotten the big reveal out of the way. Jungkook biting his bottom lip tells you that he likes what he sees so far.
“Sexy. Like Martha May.”
You whisper to yourself as you take a step closer. “Martha May, huh?”
Jungkook nods.
“ Yeah… I’m high key fucking with it, though.”
Now, that’s good to hear because he’s given you an idea.
“Well, thank you… Mr. Grinch.”
Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to be confused. Eventually, he reveals a mischievous grin.
“I’ve been that bad, huh?”
“The worst,” you reply.
You don’t pull away when he reaches for your hand. It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve had any contact. You’re deprived; desperate. 
Even if you were still mad at him, your pride is long gone. So, instead of pouncing on him, you allow him to guide you to the bedroom.
“It only gets worse, love.”
Well, damn.
“How much worse?” you quiz, already knowing the answer to the question. He looks over his shoulder as he opens his bedroom door.
“You’re gonna fuck around and find out if you keep playing with me.”
As Jungkook guides you into his room, you try to hold back your smile. You always find thrill in testing his patience. Whatever it takes for him to pound you into his mattress, you’ll try it.
Once inside, he walks over to the bed and sits on his bed. You grip onto his green bomber jacket while he caresses and gently kneads your thighs, making you melt into his hands. You push out your chest, so he can have a better look at the red lace that barely covers your tits.
He can’t stop himself from staring. His mouth waters as the sinful thoughts run through his mind. During his journey all over your body, his hand accidentally touches something you’re clutching in your right hand.
He frowns. “What are those for?”
You hold up the cordless lights that you snatched from your little desk tree at work with a smirk.
“Dunno,” you shrug. “They’re yours. Get creative.”
Jungkook stands up, and you place the cord in his hand. He gestures towards the bed, and tells you to get on it.
“Alright, go,” he orders.
“Okay.”
You climb on the bed, positioning yourself on your hands and knees. He didn’t tell you to lie down, but you figured he’d appreciate seeing your outfit from this angle.
“Like this?”
“Just like that,” he approves.
It isn’t long before you feel the palms of his hands touching your ass. They’re still a little cold, but eventually heat up due to the warmth of your flesh. You know that he could do this for hours, just admiring the way it jiggles and how soft it feels in his hands. 
However, tonight he wastes no time giving your pussy attention, the opening in the center of your panties giving him easy access to your slit.
“Fuck.” 
His reaction makes you want to turn around and see his reaction, but you’re afraid you might ruin the foreplay and beg him to fuck you now. So, with clenched teeth, you try to suppress your eagerness to have him inside of you; but you’re already close to failing.
“One of these days I’m just gonna say fuck it and raw dog you.”
You lose control of your outbursts when he pushes his thumb into your pussy. You beg him for more, but he just pulls out, leaving you disappointed.
“Jungkook!”
He chuckles. “Alright, alright. Give me your hands, love.”
At Jungkook’s request, you move your hands behind you. 
He’s so close that his breath tickles the tiny hair on the back of your neck. Your body shivers as his fingers gently touch your skin, sliding down your arm until he reaches your hands.
When he speaks, the sound of his voice makes you weak. No matter how hard you clench your knees are nothing but jelly, making it nearly impossible to support your weight.
“You still like to be tied up and shit, right?”
Oh unholy fucking night.
“I do.”
“That’s my girl,” he boasts.
Your heart begins to race with excitement when you feel the cord tightening around your wrists. It doesn’t take Jungkook a long time to secure a few knots. 
“Is this okay? Not too tight?”
Despite your position once he bends you over again, your body is still relaxed. You know you’re in safe hands. He’s earned your trust when it comes to your body, so you don’t mind if he takes control. You actually enjoy it more than he does.
“No, I’m fine,” you answer. “I’m excited.”
“Hm. I can tell.” 
It is then you realize that your thighs are rubbing together, smearing a mess of your sticky juices between them. The sound of Jungkook spreading your legs has you burying your face in his sheets.
“No hiding.”
You lift your head and nod. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good. Do you remember we play?”
“You call the shots. I’m in control.”
Jungkook hums his approval, but before he can ask you anything else.
“...And I remember how to free myself,” you add. “Just in case.”
“You’re so perfect,” he praises. 
A bit of pride swells in your chest when he says this. He tells you this almost every day, but it still makes you smile from ear to ear.
The next thing you hear is Jungkook fishing for condoms in his nightstand drawer. Once he finds them, he returns and removes his clothes. You catch a glimpse of his figure behind you, and it’s that image you’ll hold on to when he’s taking you from behind. 
When Jungkook spreads your globes, a small moan escapes your lips despite your attempt to bite it back.
“Ready?”
“So, so…ready,” you reply.
You whimper as the tip of his dick probes gently at your entrance. Your body is shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. It feels like it's been months since you’ve felt his thick cock stretching you open. 
“I know,” he coos. “Just relax, sweetheart.”
You take a deep breath to calm yourself; and eventually, your muscles relax. Jungkook steals this moment to slowly slide into you.
“Fuck!”
“Gotta fuck you now, love,” Jungkook groans. 
He starts fucking you slowly, but fast enough to have an orgasm brewing deep within your core. 
You can hear him panting as he digs his nails into your skin. Your shoes drop to the floor because your toes are curling from the pleasure you’re receiving. If Jungkook weren’t gripping your waist, you’d be lying on your belly because you’re trembling too much to keep yourself up.
“You feel like a fucking glove.”
You know he can feel your walls squeezing and hugging his cock, desperately trying to keep him inside. Your moans become louder which each slap Jungkook delivers to your ass. The pain ripples down your globes, traveling straight to your dripping pussy—leaking onto his throbbing dick.
“So deep…”
It’s not long before you’re squirting all over him. He laughs, not caring about his ruined sheets.
“There she goes.”
Jungkook then starts loosening your restraints, leaving you confused. You’re afraid you messed up, but he assures you that’s not the case.
“I need to see you,” he utters.
Jungkook frees your hands and flips you over swiftly, leaving your head spinning. He allows your eyes to focus before he lowers himself and aligns with your entrance once more. You wrap your limbs around him, bringing him closer so you can feel his warm skin pressed against yours.
Your wetness allows him to enter you smoothly. The intrusion isn’t as intense as before, but it leaves you breathless due to your sensitivity. 
You accept the kisses he leaves down your neck. He drags his hot tongue across your skin agonizingly slow while he’s buried inside you, not moving an inch until you’re begging him to.
“Baby, please fuck me. I can’t—”
“Just give me a second, love,” he whispers.
Jungkook’s mouth finds your breasts, and he takes his time giving each of them attention. Your back arches off the bed when he wraps his lips around your nipple. 
You try to be patient, but your body can’t handle any more teasing. Your hips begin to move on their own, immediately grabbing Jungkook’s attention.
“So eager,” he teases, gripping your hips to stop you.
“Jungkook, I need to cum.”
“Yeah?... Wanna make another mess?”
“Please.”
He pulls out and then with a snap of his hips, he slams into you. He does it again, and again—making you scream his name. You drag your nails down his back, making him hiss from the stinging pain traveling across his skin. 
“Do it,” he grunts, fucking you deeper. “Cum.”
“Oh, fuck.”
You stop holding it in, and finally allow the tightened coil to snap. Pleasure ripples through your body, and everything goes silent except for the familiar ringing in your ears. Your eyes roll back and your body stiffens in Jungkook’s arms. 
“Fuck! You’re squeezing so tight.”
“I’m cumming!” you scream.
He keeps fucking you, talking you through it until you finally calm down enough to relax your limbs. Jungkook’s soothing voice brings you back to reality.
“Good, baby. That’s good.”
You lie on your back, tears in your eyes as you watch him above you. His body trembles as he tries to hold on, but you know he’s close. You can tell by the way he twitches inside of you.
“This is my shit, understand? My pussy,” he claims. “Okay?”
You nod weakly, still feeling the bliss of your release.
“Yeah, it’s yours. Only yours.”
“And you’re mine too, right?”
He doesn’t even have to ask. Of course, you are.
“Always.”
You pull him closer and kiss his lips, but both of you become greedy for more. His strokes are gentle but you still gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your muffled cries of pleasure start to fill the room as you deepen the kiss. 
You’re dizzy by the time he pulls away, unable to focus on anything but the lingering taste of him on your lips. Once again, his voice brings you back. 
“Damn it,” he growls.
After two more uncoordinated thrusts, he reaches his peak and spills his warm cum into the condom. Panting and breathless, he falls on top of you, and you start running your fingers through his hair.
You stay in this position for only a few minutes, before he’s climbing out of bed.
“Wait—”
You try to grab his arm, but he grabs his sweats and slips away, leaving a small pout on your face.
“I’ll be right back, love.”
You sigh. “Okay.”
You wait a few minutes before you let your curiosity run wild. You begin to wonder what he’s doing, so you decide to go look for him. 
Just as you enter the living room, Jungkook appears from the kitchen with an ice pack and a bottle of water.
“How are you?” he asks, handing you the little blue compress. “It’s for your wrists.”
“I’m okay, you?”
Jungkook nods. “Still seeing stars, but I’ve never felt better.”
Silence follows, but it’s peaceful. You use the moment to take in everything once again.
“Thank you,” you say eventually.
“For?”
“All this!”
You point around the room at all of the decor he must have spent hours putting up. It could honestly have been a little stocking and you still would have appreciated his effort. You know he only did it for you, even though he wasn’t in the mood.
“I was just trying to make it up to you,” he shrugs.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.”
You smile. “Well, thanks Grinchy. But I didn’t want to force you.”
He promises that he didn’t feel obligated, and you take his word for it. It’s been a challenge but you’ve learned to accept when he offers to do something nice for you. So if it involves spending time with him, you’ll accept every gift he gives you. 
Placing the ice pack on the coffee table, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. 
“I’m trying, love,” he sighs.
“You’re doing great,” you assure.
“No, I mean… It’s been two weeks, and you’re still wearing that and…”
You realize he’s lowkey asking for round two. All you need is some water and you’ll be good to go.
“I’m on top this time,” you call out over your shoulder. You’re almost halfway across the room when he stops you.
“Hold on…”
You turn around only to find him standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“Hm?”
Jungkook lifts one of his hands and pulls out a tiny sealed bag. It doesn’t take you but a second to figure out what it is. But what leaves you puzzled is the way he’s holding it over his head.
“I don’t know much about this shit but, I think you’re still supposed to kiss me.”
Wow. He can be cute when he wants to. Of course, you return to leave a kiss on his cheek.
“That’s cute, Jungkook. But I think you got it wrong.”
“Oh, yeah?”
This time you grab his hand, and he doesn’t resist when you start dragging him towards the bedroom.
“I think I’m supposed to put my pussy on your face, then you kiss me,” you propose.
“Okay, maybe this holiday shit isn’t so bad.”
Shaking your head, you make your way through the dark hallway until you reach Jungkook’s room. 
“Wait until you see the chain I bought you,” you mumble.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, baby. Come on.”
You take him to bed, and his apartment is anything but silent for the rest of the night. This was your first Christmas together; but best believe, a lot of traditions were made.
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greatstormcat · 5 months
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A Reason To Go On - Part 1
Stalker!Ghost x f!reader
TW: MDNI 18+, stalking & obsessive behaviour, dub/con, mental health issues
Authors note: this came about following a series of drabbles which I’ve put links to below which may be useful to read beforehand. Written in one sitting and not edited!
Drab 1 Drab 2 Drab 3 Drab 4 Drab 5
AO3 version where everything has been merged
Series Masterlist
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Simon sat looking across the kitchen table at Price, both nursing barely touched glasses of bourbon. The surface was immaculately clean, having never been used since it was bought a few months ago. Like much of the items and furniture in the little flat he now called home. Price was looking at him, waiting for him to speak, and the silence was eating up the last of the air in the room.
“Is it really that bad, Simon?” Price prompted him, his tone serious and maddeningly sympathetic. He was always Simon now, Ghost was gone, dead and buried the way he should have stayed all those years ago. He hadn’t even touched a balaclava since he left, using a black medical mask instead when he felt the need.
“No, not really,” Simon shrugged, turning the glass on the table idly. He didn’t look up at his Captain, no that was wrong, his ex-Captain. “Been keeping myself busy reading, exercise, you know,” he finished dismissively.
“You’ve kept up with that therapist?” Price asked, knowing the answer was most likely going to be a negative.
“Sure,” Simon lied. He hadn’t been to any appointments with a therapist since his medical discharge, and he would rather… No, can’t finish that thought as that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Chucked out on civvy street with a fat pension and nothing to do, no purpose to serve after all these years. At least Price had arranged the pension so he didn’t have to worry about his name getting into circulation, not with his past. The flat was rented under a pseudonym and paid for by some shady forces protection scheme. He didn’t need that catching up with him now.
“Look, I’m settled in and getting myself sorted. You don’t need to come all the way here and check on me,” Simon grumbled, not bothering to hide how much he resented Price these days. He hadn’t fought for him, hadn’t tried to keep him on the Taskforce when that shrink had stamped his file as unfit for duty. Anger issues, poor impulse control, danger to self and others. Price huffed and knocked back his drink. These visits always ended the same, full of regret and bitterness.
“Okay, son,” he said, getting up and looking around the barely furnished flat one last time. “I’ll let you be, but I’ll be back when I can. Why not think about what I said though, try and get a hobby, something to focus on.”
Price left soon after and Simon finished his glass before heading towards the spare bedroom, his office as he liked to think of it. He’d found his left a purpose, no thanks to Price. He had a reason to carry on now, and it meant everything to him. Flicking on the lightswitch the rows and rows of photographs on the wall were illuminated, all showing images of you at various times since he had first seen you.
With a smile he relaxed into the chair by the desk, looking up at the photos. You were his life now, he was dedicated to taking care of you. Since that first day he’d seen you he had dealt with your worthless ex-boyfriend, making sure the little shit stain never bothered you again, scared off several unworthy bastards in the pub you met your friends in, and put some small security cameras in the downstairs areas of you house so he could check on you from his laptop.
You were the focus of his every waking moment, and even when he slept now he pictured you in his dreams and woke hard and throbbing. At the start of this he had sworn to himself he would keep his distance, not let you know he existed so he didn’t burden you with his problems. But it was getting harder and harder not to sit and imagine what the touch of your hand would be like, you were a brave and kind soul, would you turn him away if he spoke to you?
That was why he had answered the note on your coffee table. The chance to make a connection to you was too great a temptation, and he let himself slip and grab the chance. This would be a slippery slope.
As midnight nears he makes his nightly pilgrimage to your house, his motorbike left at the end of your road before he walks closer, not wanting to disturb you with the noise. The footholds he made in your garden wall months ago allow him to quickly and quietly scale the wall, and he fishes out the key he copied for your back door, letting himself into your kitchen. He cocks his head and listens carefully making sure you aren’t moving around upstairs, and he hears nothing.
By now, he knows to look at the notepad on the table in the living room. There’s always a small note written there since he’d replied to the message you’d left all those weeks ago. Tonight, however, the pad is missing and he feels a pang in his heart. Why haven’t you left a note tonight? Has your tolerance for him dried up now? He feels a creeping fear, another loss looming in his future that he isn’t ready to cope with, not when he has already lost so much in the past.
He moves up the stairs, having memorised where to step and where to avoid so no creaks come from the wood. Your bedroom is at the top, and he has spent many hours sat in the hallway outside your bedroom door just to listen to the steady sound of your breathing. More than once you’ve gone to the bathroom and walked right past him, never bothering with putting on lights at night. He looks through the open doorway, a thin beam of light shining through the gap in the curtains and across your form under the bed covers.
Tonight though, your breathing sounds different, and he realises you aren’t asleep in the darkness. When you sit up, he freezes.
“You’re there, aren’t you?” you say to the darkened bedroom, absolutely certain you can hear soft breathing in the shadows by the door. You’re still not sure who or what you’re talking to, but you know that there is someone listening to you.
Simon remains calm. It's the first time you’ve spoken directly to him and he can’t quite process the fact that the object of his desires has come this close to actually perceiving him. Both the last thing in the world he wanted, and the one thing he has needed more than anything in his entire life. For several heartbeats he wrestles with himself deciding wether to answer you or not.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he finally answers, deep voice carrying around the room easily. He watches you carefully in the thin slither of light, sees your tiny flinch as you hear him and the involuntary swallow in your throat, but you don’t panic.
“Will you tell me why you’re here?” You ask, unable to hide the slight tremble in your voice. You’re so brave, his heart swells with pride at how you handle waking up to a strange man in your house, your very bedroom. You’d have made an amazing soldier.
“Just checkin’ you’re okay. I check on you a lot,” he admits.
“How long have you been doing this?” He can see a frown on your features, you’re trying to piece this all together now.
“Few months,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders which draws your attention. You see the movement and realise just how large the shape in the shadows is, your eyes going wider in shock. His frame fills the doorway in width and height, and a tiny voice in your head tells you that you should be terrified, but you aren’t. If this man meant you harm you’d be dead already, months ago apparently. Instead he was getting into your house and doing the stuff that, and you feel your brain stutter at this thought, a boyfriend would do.
“Okay, and you’ve been doing more than that haven’t you? You’ve been following me around and helping me out haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” he replies.
“Why?”
“Wanna keep you safe, and happy,” he grunts with a frown, not wanting to dwell on that question.
“You could do that without breaking into my house, without hiding yourself from me.”
“I didn’t really want to bother you, I don’t need anyone to take care of me and it’s just easier this way,” he tells you, hearing how hollow his own words sound to his ears.
“Look, I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing, but this isn’t… normal,” you say, hugging your knees to your chest now as you settle into this off situation. Again, you tell yourself you should be screaming and calling the police but there is a sadness about this man that you can’t ignore. “Why don’t you come and sit with me and we can talk?”
“Wait,” comes his brusque reply, and your eyebrows raise. He steps back from the doorway and down the stairs, not nothing to mask his footsteps now, and returns with a scarf that was hanging at the bottom of the stairs in one hand. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, holding the scarf in one hand where you can see it.
“A blindfold. Why? Are you ugly?” you tease, the words hitting him like a bullet between the eyes and a smile forming across his face.
“Quite the opposite,” he replies, feeling warmth spread through his chest at such a poignant exchange of words. It's almost as though you knew…
You close your eyes. Listening carefully as you hear him moving closer, the faint rustling of fabric is just audible. A blindfold settles over your eyes, thick and heavy, blotting out anything you might have been able to see even in the darkness.
Then, and only then, do you feel the mattress dipping down a long way as he sits on the edge of the bed. Tentatively you lift one hand and blindly reach out to touch him, after a moment or two he takes your hand in his, warm fingers and a calloused palm encapsulating your own. On a whim, you pull, urging him to move closer to you. At first he resists, the bed shifts and for a moment you worry he is going to get up and leave, but you hold onto his hand and tug again. He relents and leans over towards you, and warm face rests against your shoulder, hair tickling your cheek, and you wrap your arms around huge shoulders.
It’s as though a dam breaks inside Simon, the moment you put your arms around him he melts against you, gently pushing you back against the mattress as he lies down beside you. One of his legs hooks over yours over the covers and his arm drapes over your stomach, pinning you into place as his face rests against the exposed skin at the crook of your neck.
You feel a hot rush of air leave his lungs, heating your neck, and a tiny groan tinged with such sadness escapes him. The sound plucks at your heart and you rub your cheek against his hair, encouraging him to nuzzle into you even further, as though we would climb into your chest if it were an option.
“What should I call you, now that we are finally talking? You already know my name,” you murmur.
“Ghost,” he replies, his lips tickling your skin as he speaks and a shiver runs down your spine.
“I thought you were a ghost to start with, so that’s appropriate,” you reply.
He grunts and touches his lips to your neck again, feeling you shudder again as he is draped over you. He tried a small kiss, his control evaporating by the second as you respond to him to readily, and when you sigh softly it vanishes. He kisses you desperately, moans accompanying every movement of his lips until his mouth is on yours, hot and needy. From the darkness of the blindfold you kiss him back, hands framing the face you cannot see and the weight of his body shifting until you are crushed into the mattress below you.
The bed covers are pulled away from you, cool air reaching through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you are wearing until his warmth settles against you, pushing your knees apart so his clothed erection presses against your crotch. He humps you through his clothes, a frantic and needy action as his kisses continue to burn your mouth with their ferocity.
Little moans and whines escape you as you let him drink his fill of you, the amount of passion he has for you like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You hands trace over his shoulders, tracing firm muscle as he lifts your T-shirt and kisses down you body, stopping to grope roughly at your breasts before he kisses across your stomach to your underwear.
His mouth moves across the fabric, hot and hungry, pressing into your folds and causing arousal to flood through you. The wetness is unmissable as he grinds his face into you, fingers digging into your thighs. You hear a zip being undone.
“No, wait,” you try to slow him down by putting your hands on his chest but he is too far gone now, muttering praises and words of adoration like he is reciting a memorised prayer. Your underwear is pulled down roughly, stinging your legs as he drags it down carelessly and the tip of his erection is pressed against your dripping cunt before you have time to think again.
Simon presses into you, his head hanging from his shoulders loosely as he focuses on the sensation of your heat enveloping his cock. He shudders and pauses when he is halfway in, looking to your face and wishing he could see your eyes, but that would be too much for him and he knows it. Your mouth gapes open, back arched and you whimper when he slowly thrusts forward again.
“Fuck… your perfect,” he whispers, watching his length disappearing inside of you. “So perfect for me.” When he hilts himself in your cunt he leans down and kisses your neck again, hands gripping your shoulders so you are totally surrounded by his body, entirely surrounded and filled by him. Your arms are trapped between your chest and his, leaving you no way to move with his weight on top of you. He pulls his hips back, almost completely pulling out before slowly pushing back in, sparking intense pleasure as you feel his thickness stretching you open. Every vein and ridge of his cock can be felt, and when he bottoms out again he presses against your cervix and you whine at the sensation.
“Its okay,” he whispers, kissing your neck and nipping at your skin as he holds you tightly, not letting you move as you lay in total blindness while he slowly fucks you. “Everythings fine, this is so good, you feel so good.” His hips begin to snap against yours as he picks up the pace, the pleasure from each thrust bleeding into the next as he speeds up until you’re riding a never ending wave of electricity. The sounds of his skin on yours mix with his grunts and praises, creating a filthy symphony of sounds around you.
The pressure against your clit spurs your impending orgasm, and you rock your hips to chase the release, coaxing him to thrust harder into your aching hole.
“Gonna cum,” he starts to moan, “gonna cum in you.” He repeats it over and over, his voice cracking as he speaks, and the words push you over the edge. Your cunt grips and clenches onto his cock as you cum, crying out his name and with a harsh groan he pours himself into you.
His head falls into the crook of your neck as he catches his breath and after a while carefully pulls his softening cock out of you, making you wince.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” He asks, going still as he hovers over you.
“No it’s okay. You just have… large equipment,” you say weakly, and feel a kiss on your cheek.
“I’m sorry I didn’t, you know, ask about that first,” he says, frowning at himself as he lowers himself beside you on the bed. He’s meant to be protecting you not taking advantage of you, but it felt so good. He feels wetness on his cheeks and wipe his face with the back of his hand.
“It was intense,” you say, “but it’s fine, don’t worry.” You turn and press yourself into him, this large and solid man that you don’t know, but trust for no good reason. He stays a while longer until you fall asleep, but when you wake up with your morning alarm he is gone. The scarf is neatly folded up on the bedside table, a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it ontop with the words ‘if you need me’ written under them.
When you go downstairs he has even put out a mug and teabag by the kettle for you, locking the door as he had left.
Taglist @ghosts-cyphera @katamari-possum @kkaaaagt @n1ght4ngel
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norrizzandpia · 1 month
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okay but how about a tiny blurb where lando or oscar catch reader watching edits or reading a fanfic
lol i love this
Whatcha Readin’? (LN4)
Summary: It was a good story, that was her only argument.
Warnings: nada
Lando’s workout had been grueling, straight from hell and constructed just to murder his entire being. His legs felt like they were about to give out under him as he unlocked his front door. He entered his apartment, an unusually quiet apartment seeing as his girlfriend should have been home too, and looked around aimlessly.
He expected his girl to be bursting from somewhere in the house, throwing herself into his body for a few kisses and murmurs about missing him, yet he came up empty-handed. She wasn’t the napping type, so being asleep wasn’t an option and she wouldn’t have been out, having groaned to him this morning as he got ready that she was so burnt out, she needed a day to stay in and do nothing.
His feet took him through the arch of the foyer, into the kitchen, before he was rounding the corner and finding her sprawled out on the couch. Her head laid against the back of the sofa, her headphones in and blasting music so loud he could hear it, with her phone propped on her stomach. At first glance, it looked as if she was utilizing that Kindle Unlimited subscription he had gotten her for her birthday months before, but he knew the way that app was formatted and when he gave it a second glance, he realized what she was looking at wasn’t Kindle. Stepping closer, he squinted his eyes, not wanting to get too close and spook her, trying to read what was on her screen. Whatever she was reading was quite intense, a couple fighting over the fact that the boyfriend had been neglecting the girlfriend for months and forgetting about important events like her birthday and their anniversary.
Lando’s foot went to step away, deducing that she had found another platform to fulfill her reading addiction. Except, just as he was about to leave it, his girlfriend said loudly, “Lando would never say that, though!”
He froze, turning his head slowly in confusion. His eyes flew over the screen before landing on his name, the character of the boyfriend being filled by him.
A fanfiction.
His girlfriend was reading a fanfiction about him.
He died.
Over the volume of her music, Y/n heard faint hysterics, making her turn her head to see her boyfriend doubled over in laughter. She took the earbuds out, looking at him weirdly as his face turned red from a lack of oxygen.
“What’s so funny?” She asked, standing before him with a look of pure confusion.
He clutched his stomach as he choppily got out, “YOU- FANFIC- ME!”
The color draining from her face sent him further into a state of pure amusement, “Oh my god, Lando…”
He continued laughing although part of him felt bad as her face began to heat up in embarrassment. Pulling himself together, he rounded the couch and kissed her cheek lightly, “Oh, love, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in my entire life.”
Her mouth fell open, “I’m so sorry. I don’t read it that often. I just-” She began to make excuses before stepping back and looking at him helplessly, “The storyline is just really good, okay?!”
He nodded with a smile on his face, “I don’t care, Y/n. You read whatever you want to read, baby. I won’t love you any less.”
She blushed, opening her mouth to say an affirmation of love back, but he decided to continue his thought, “Plus, I won’t lie, it’s a bit of an ego boost to know that my girlfriend is reading stories about me. Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
He teased her, poking her sides lightly, as she began to laugh with him.
When he pulled her into him by her waist and kissed her lips, she whispered, “Can we at least keep this between us?”
He nodded, “Sure, love.”
He kissed her again, this time with a squeeze of his arms as they wrapped around her. And when he plopped their bodies back onto the couch behind them, he picked up her phone.
“Now, what would I not say?”
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cosettepontmercys · 3 months
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“In light of everything that’s happened in the past three months alone, here’s some incredibly valid reasons to be pissed off at Taylor Swift, or simply not like her — as someone who loved her, and loved her music. First and foremost, Taylor Swift is personally burning a hole through the ozone with the amount of CO2 she uses. That’s not even the main point of this video; but this is a graph from 2022 of how much CO2 she produced of her 170 private jet flights, versus the average person. She has spent 70 grand on jet fuel alone. Taylor Swift, alone has used 170 tons of CO2 in the past 3 months. The average person only burns like, 16 tons. That’s not even the main part of this video. The main point of the video is the fact that she has not spoken up about Palestine. And the reason that is so fundamentally frustrating is that Taylor Swift has influence. Quote Brittany Broski, when she also didn’t speak up about Palestine — “if you have a platform, and you have people listening, you have to use it.” It’s criminal to not use it, and Taylor Swift uses it. This is from September 2023. Record-breaking registration numbers from one Instagram post. Literally stating, saying “I’ve been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my US shows recently. I’ve heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are. Make sure you’re ready to use them in our elections this year!” They had a 72(%) increase in 18-year-old registrations. When it comes to Palestine, she’s completely silent. And now that it’s somewhat more socially acceptable to attend Pro-Palestine events, she’s been quietly going with Selena Gomez, but I for one, think that your Instagram is perhaps the best asset you have. If not, money. And I’m sure in a couple months, we’ll learn about how Taylor Swift was quietly setting up foundations for pro-Palestine, and that she was always for the cause and she’s always supported them, but all it takes is one fucking Instagram post. Especially when Israel Palestine is fundamentally a war of narratives. It’s whose story do you believe, despite the mounting evidence that proves that Israel has continuously been doing ethnic cleansing and genocide. They are still maintaining this narrative that they are not doing that. And all Taylor Swift has to do is say “hey, 22 thousand deaths in 3 months? The most in any modern war? This doesn’t seem right.” I don’t even want her to be that leftist or radical, but literally just to ask the question to her largely American audience, when US has bypassed Congress twice to sell millions in arms aid to Israel.  Just for her to be like “Should that many kids be dying, perhaps?” The bar is on the floor, but she still refuses to do it. And the reason why Taylor Swift in particular, not because of the influence that she has and not because of the platform that she has, but why her in particular, is because the IDF continues to use her songs. I know it was a public trend, but the fact that so many occupation forces felt comfortable and confident  to make like, dance edits to Taylor Swift’s music. I think it’s so important how an artist’s music is used because when the republicans wanted to use Eminem’s 8 mile track, he was like “absolutely fucking not, I do not give you consent to do that, and I do not associate with your politics. Don’t do that.” I feel like she should know that her music is being used as the anthem of the occupation forces as they go and bomb civilians. Her, and other artists like her, like Beyonce, who showed her film in Israel, and they’re all like dancing and singing, and saying “you’re not going to break my soul”, whilst they continue to bomb the shit out of civilians have said nothing. And I hope, as I’ve demonstrated in the video, for the people who are going to be like “What’s Taylor swift going to do? She’s not a politician.” Be serious. Be serious. She has a fucking chokehold on at least a billion people. She could’ve said and done way more than what she’s done, and also the CO2 levels." (from: this tiktok*)
* i tried to transcribe the tiktok since tiktok wasn't showing the captions for me but if i misheard anything please let me know!
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pixiemunsons · 2 years
Text
baby, baby, baby (sh)
steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help
breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)
a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3
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it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.
a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.
steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.
you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve. 
he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.
you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?
───
‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’
steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?
‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.
‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.
’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.
you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.
‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’ 
you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.
‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.
‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.
‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’
his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.
‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’
a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.
‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it. 
‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’
steve was totally fucked.
he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.
‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.
‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’
steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.
‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.
‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.
‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.
‘take me, steve.’
he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds. 
‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.
steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.
‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-
‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.
‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’
you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.
‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’
he flopped on top of you, grinning.
‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.
‘and over.’ your shoulder.
‘and over.’ your nose.
‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’
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xxbimbobunnyxx · 10 days
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Pour Some Sugar On Me
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(Older!Alpha Eddie x Omega!Reader)
Summary: It’s been four months since you’ve been mated to Eddie in secret. When he takes you to “Lovers Lake” for a picnic and tells you he’s never hooked up there, it’s only right that you remedy that. WK: 1.8K
Warnings: General Omegaverse behaviors, scenting, knotting, biting, unprotected sex, outside sex, pet names, a whole lotta gushy mushy fluff. No physical descriptions of reader besides her outfit but she does have the nickname “sugar” 18+MNDI!
A/N: SURPISEEE SHAWTY!! I know it’s been a minute since I posted a ST fic but I randomly got the spark to write this today! This is set in the middle of Everlasting Sweeheart before Sugar’s dad finds out about them. Older!Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple.
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You’ve been seeing Eddie in secret for about four months now and it couldn’t be more perfect. Aside from the fact that it was a secret. It was hard, having to hide your mate from everyone in your life. The only person you’ve told is your childhood best friend but she lives states away. A few of your employees asked about your mark and you brushed them off, not wanting to go into details. You haven’t seen your dad since that day at the shop, the day you realized that Eddie worked for him. You missed him, and you hate sneaking around behind his back. Even though it was your idea to wait, you were ready to tell him. But your mate? He wasn’t quite there yet. So you decided not to push him for now and to just enjoy your little bubble.
Today Eddie has something “special” planned for the two of you but refuses to tell you where you’re going. He does this with every date, plans something elaborate or something as simple as a movie night at home. But it was always romantic. He put a lot of thought into these dates and it made sneaking around infinitely easier on you. On those days, it feels everything and everyone but you and Eddie cease to exist.
“Alright sugar pie, you ready?” Eddie yells down the hall, you made him leave the room so you could get ready because you had a little surprise of your own. He didn’t tell you where you were going, but he at least told you that you were riding on his bike and not in one of his cars. So you’d know what to wear. And it just so happened you had the perfect outfit.
Thus far he's only seen your softer side, your little mini dresses and Mary Jane’s with ribbons tied in your hair. Which was great for when you worked at the bakery, comfy shoes, easy movement, kept your hair out of your face. But there’s a whole other side to you he has yet to discover. You were raised by a biker, after all. You look at yourself in the mirror and smirk. You had even styled your hair differently and your make up was darker than your everyday look. Eddie was going to shit.
“Yeah baby, I’m ready.” You exit the room and Eddie’s jaw literally drops and his keys that were dangling from his fingers fall to the ground.
“Sugar… you look…” his eyes roam your figure, drinking in every inch, every detail. The glossy leather of your thigh high platform boots. The little black ripped jean shorts. The tiny little white tank top. And last but not least? You’re wearing a fucking leather battle jacket. “Wow. You look so fucking sexy. Did you get new clothes?”
“Nah. This is stuff I’ve had forever. I actually started this jacket back in highschool and have gradually added to or changed it. I feel like you’re forgetting who my dad is, Eddie bear. Have you ever looked in my closet? There’s more to me than you think.” You approach him, running your cherry red fingernail along his jaw, causing him to shiver under your touch.
“You’re telling me my little sugar girl has a bad ass rocker side I don’t even know about?” He grips your hips in his large ringed hands, pulling your body taunt against his.
“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.” You pull back, shooting him a wink. “You ready to go or are you gonna stand here and ogle me all night?”
“Oh baby, I’m gonna ogle you alright… but, I’m ready to go.” He gives your butt a little pat before leaning down to pick up his keys. “Come on, get your sexy ass out the door.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going. You don’t have to be pushy.” You tease, giggling as you connect his lips to yours.
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Eddie drove his bike to the edge of town, turning down a dirt road and stopping when he reached the lake he apparently nicknamed “lovers lake”. He had a whole picnic packed tightly in the seat compartment of his motorcycle with all your favorite foods and treats. He even brought little candles and wine.
“This is nice Eddie, it’s really pretty here.” Your head is resting on his shoulder and you smile up at him sweetly.
“Yeah? I’m glad baby. Used to come out here in highschool in my van. Open up the back and just smoke and think, enjoy the silence. Figured it would be nice.” He smooths a hand over your hair before cupping your cheek, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.
“All by yourself? You didn’t bring any girls out here? That’s why they call it lovers lake, right?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully.
“Ha! No, definitely didn’t bring any girls out here. Teenage Eddie wasn’t very popular with the ladies.”
“Hmm… that’s too bad, seems like a nice place to get your guts rearranged by a hot metal head, if you ask me.” You rest a hand on his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes.
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That’s how you ended up where you are now, bent over Eddie’s bike, your shorts discarded on the ground somewhere, panties pushed to the side and his tongue buried as deep inside you as possible. He insisted you keep the boots and the jacket on because it was “really doing it for him”.
“Fuck baby, you always taste so sweet.” Eddie mumbles against your core, the vibrations causing you to moan out. His skilled tongue pushes you closer to the edge with each passing second. He leans down to take your clit between his lips as his thick digits circle your entrance. He starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so they brush against your sweet spot with each stroke. It has you seeing stars, your pussy clenching so tightly around his fingers he feels like they’re going to get pushed out.
“Oh my god! Fuck, Eddie! Feels so fucking good, you always make me cum so good. Want your cock.”
“Don’t worry sugar, I’m not fucking done with you yet.” You hear the sound of his belt, followed by his zipper. He pushes his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, taking it in his hand and running it through your slick folds. “How bad do you want it?”
“So bad alpha, want your knot.” You whimper as you push back against him. He pushes into you in one breath taking thrust.
“Ah fuck, you’re always so god damn tight.” Eddie pushes his hips flush against yours, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. His hands grip onto your ass, the cool night air making his rings cold against your skin. He squeezes the flesh of your cheeks while he starts to rock into you slow and deep, teasing you.
“Eddie, faster, please, go faster.” You bounce back against him, your ass jiggling deliciously in his tattooed hands.
“Yeah? My pretty girl wants it faster?” He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back inside you, the sound of his hips clapping against your ass echoing through the trees. He starts to fuck into you hard and fast, your upper half resting against the plush bike seat and the tips of your boot clad feet are the only thing touching the ground.
“Mmm alpha, I need your cum. Need your knot. You make me feel so fucking full.”
Eddie leans forward, his chest pressing against your back, making his cock thrust even deeper inside you. One of his hands snakes around you to rub your clit while he brings his lips to your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses along the expanse of your throat. He shoves his nose into your scent gland and inhales, your sugary sweet scent sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“You smell so fucking good omega. My omega. My sweet girl.” He nips at the skin of your neck before biting down, latching his teeth to your skin. It’s all too much. It all feels too good. The speed of the circles on your clit increases and that’s all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge.
“Ohmygod! Eddieeee, mmm fuck.” He fucks you through it before leaning up off of you to chase his own high.
“This pussy’s so fucking good. Tastes so sweet. Sucks me in so good. So tight. Fucking made for me.” His eyes don’t know where to settle, his thick cock disappearing into your creamy walls over and over again. The way your back is curved from how you’re bent over his bike. The way those fucking boots hug the top of your thighs.
“Give your cum alpha, fuck a pup into me.”
“Oh god.” His hips slap hard against yours a few more times before he’s pushing them flush against your ass, filling you with ropes of his cum. His knot starts to swell inside you and he goes to pull out so you aren’t stuck in this awkward position until it goes down but you just hook your leg around his, keeping him in place.
“No, I want your knot, Eddie. I’ll stay like this all night just to have it.”
“Jesus Christ.” You let out a little whimper that turns into a loud moan as his knot pops inside you. The feeling sending you into another mind blowing orgasm. Eddie leans his chest down against you again so he can leave loving little pecks against your cheek and rub his nose against your throat.
“That was so fucking hot.” You giggle, reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair.
“Yeah, it was, but now we’re stuck like this. So I’m gonna need you to stop laughing or we are going to be stuck here all night.” Eddie chuckles as he leans into your touch.
“Just fall back on your ass, it’ll be fine.”
He leans up, gripping your hips as he lets his ass fall back onto the ground. He lands with you on top of his lap with a gentle thud.
“Guess this isn’t so bad.” Eddie cups your cheek, turning your head to the side so he can connect your lips in a passionate kiss. No matter how many times he kisses you like this you think it’ll still make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.
“So… how was your first lovers lake hookup?”
“World altering. Wouldn’t have wanted it to be with anyone else. I love you, sugar.”
“I love you too Eddie, so much.” You giggle fondly, taking his face in your hand.
“You’ve seriously gotta stop with that cute ass giggling or I’m just gonna have to fuck you again.”
“Maybe that’s what I want?” You raise a challenging eyebrow at him, a smirk spread across your lips.
“Ohhh you’re in for it now.” He grabs your hips, manhandling you onto your hands and knees with his knot still inside you. “I can stay here all night.”
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Taglist: @eddiesxangel @bimbobaggins69 @fairymunson @artistwhodoesntpost @witchyhippysstuff @djoseph-quinn @freak-of-hawkins
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Note
For a request:
Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!
Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear
I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.
I love your writing!
- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️
None Lacking Sins
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Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader
Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.
Word Count: 7.4k
Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night
A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  
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You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.
“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”
“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 
Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 
Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 
Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.
You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.
“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”
You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 
“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”
“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”
Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 
Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 
“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 
“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 
“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”
“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 
“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 
“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”
“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 
You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 
Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.
There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 
You huff and roll your shoulders.
Maybe the day’s just getting to me.
“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”
“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 
The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 
“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 
The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 
“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 
Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 
“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 
“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”
“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 
Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 
But…
“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 
You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 
“I’ll take it.” 
“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”
“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”
“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”
“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”
“Excuse me?” 
Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.
Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.
“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 
The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 
The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.
“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.
“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”
“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 
“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 
“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 
Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 
“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 
The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 
Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.
“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 
A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 
“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 
It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.
Tomorrow.
“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 
The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.
“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”
It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 
By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 
Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 
As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 
“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 
You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.
The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 
“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.
Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.
“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”
“Shut up.” 
“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”
From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 
“MacTavish!” 
Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.
In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 
“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”
“Aye���! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 
“Johnny!”
The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 
“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 
“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”
Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”
Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 
He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 
“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”
You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 
“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 
Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 
Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 
“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 
Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 
Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 
You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 
When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 
A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 
He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 
Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 
Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.
Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.
The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”
“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.
“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 
Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.
“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 
“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.
“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 
Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.
“Move light.” 
The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 
Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.
“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 
“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 
At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’
“I—”
“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”
This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 
He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 
“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”
The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 
“Spread out and find her!”
“Yes, Sir!” 
Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.
“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 
One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 
Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 
Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 
Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 
Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 
Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 
A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.
Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…
Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 
Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 
Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 
Don’t think about it—just get away.
It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.
It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 
What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 
The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 
“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 
“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 
“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 
What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.
“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 
He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.
If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.
“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”
“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 
“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.” Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 
Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 
“Ride’s waiting.” 
“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”
“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 
Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 
No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 
The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 
“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 
If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?
Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.
“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 
“Get in.” 
“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.
The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.
“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.
The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 
A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 
“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 
Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 
He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.
“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.
His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 
“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.
His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 
Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 
“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 
Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.
“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”
Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 
“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”
You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 
Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 
Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 
“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.
“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 
Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 
“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”
“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”
“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 
The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 
He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.
Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 
The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.
But for you…
Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.
“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 
He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.
“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.
“Aye.” He breathes.
“His blood’s all over the house.”
“It is.”
“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 
He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.
No one messed with his family and lived.
“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 
The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.
“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 
“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”
“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 
The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 
“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.
“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.
“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 
You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.
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flightlessangelwings · 6 months
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While we’re in Latino Heritage Month, let’s stop assuming your reader doesn’t know/speak Spanish in your reader insert fics. Especially if you’re writing for Pedro’s, Oscar’s or other Latino characters please.
EDIT: After some criticism of how this was originally phrased, let me change it into a question/request instead- Can we as writers please try to be more inclusive with our reader insert fics so poc and others can feel represented and see themselves too? Including taking out a quick throwaway line about reader not understanding Spanish. (Keeping the original phrasing above so anyone who missed the post to begin with can still see how I originally phrased it)
If you have a throwaway line of “he said in Spanish that you didn’t understand” or something similar, just take it out. Have something like “you didn’t hear” instead and let the reader interpret how they want. Or use italics to indicate Spanish. Or have the translation right there without mention of anyone translating for them. Simple. Or if you don’t want to/feel you cannot change it, then please have something in with your warnings so Latinos/poc can skip it if they choose.
And let me tell you why this is so frustrating (even for me as someone who is not a fluent speaker). It’s because Latinos look to these characters and actors for representation. We see ourselves in them. And when you clearly do not have a Latino person in mind when writing, you’re saying we don’t belong here. In a space where we should feel welcomed and celebrated. Representation matters. Inclusivity matters. Please try to be more inclusive with reader fics so we can all enjoy and immerse ourselves in your writing.
ALSO EDITING TO ADD MORE FROM A REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE MY CLARIFICATION: (under a cut for length)
This is nothing new, poc have been asking for years now to be inclusive in fics and yet it’s still a battle. We’re not asking for a lot, and certainly not asking anyone to change their style or creativity or anything like that. Literally simple edits: take out the word “blush” don’t mention hair, don’t mention not understanding Spanish, not making reader blood related to a white character, etc. Literally tiny things that would not change the story at all but make a world of difference.
Here’s an example too: a few years ago it was not common for writers to label the gender of their reader as it was usually assumed the reader would be a woman. But, people advocated to label readers as f/m/gn/whatever to be more inclusive and asked writers to strive for gender neutral readers when possible so that more readers felt seen and welcome. Now it’s a common thing to do. Why is making the readers race ambiguous any different?
Yes sometimes posts like this come across harsh, but know that they’re not meant to be. Poc aren’t trying to demand anything, we just ask to broaden your langauge when writing reader insert so more can see themselves in your work. It’s incredibly frustrating to ask for inclusivity and be met with hostility and rudeness in return and a refusal to think about poc so yes sometimes the wording gets harsh out of that frustration. But I encourage y’all to focus on the message more and maybe think about why poc in fandom get snippy like this. We do need to have an open conversation, yes. Just look in the comments at the Latinos and poc who are upset by the exclusion and feel hurt by it. How you you white fans feel if roles were reversed and none of the fics included you? Not fun, right?
And to those who say write it yourself: I do. I’ve been a x reader writer for years now and I do strive for inclusivity in my work. But I’m only one person and this is bigger than any one person. This isn’t about what I personally find acceptable or what I personally what. It should be a collective effort among writers as a whole to strive to include as many as possible in their works and not white code your readers. It’s not about demanding writers write it a certain way, it’s about asking writers to consider others who don’t look like them who also want the immersion and the escape that your fic brings.
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beom-pyu · 9 months
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truth or drink! (engaged edition): choi soobin
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part 3 of the truth or drink series! <3
other parts: beomgyu & taehyun "my ex + my boyfriend edition" yeonjun "couples edition" kai "blind date edition"
slightly nsfw! (minors dni.)
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welcome to truth or drink! engaged couples will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.
“i’m soobin and this is my fiance...”
“y/n!”
how long have you guys been together?
YOU: "4 and a half years."
how long have you guys been engaged?
SB: “going on 2 months now.”
who talked about marriage first?
SB: “y/n.”
YOU: “me.”
and how did that go?
SB: “they actually said it the first time we met at a mutual friend’s birthday party.”
YOU: “i was shitfaced and he had really cute dimples, so i told him we should get married. and he said okay!”
did you get engaged on the spot?
SB: “they completely forgot who i was by the next day, so i had to do all of the courting and work to even get them to go on a date with me.”
YOU: “it was worth it though.”
SB: “of course it was.”
SOOBIN: what was your first impression of me?
YOU: “other than the birthday incident, i thought you were way cooler than you actually are.”
SB: “am i not cool???”
YOU: “you are like… pitifully cute?”
SB: “that makes me sound like a charity case.”
YOU: “the cutest charity case ever.”
YOU: is there anything about getting married that scares you—something you haven’t shared with me?
SB: “hm… rationally, i know it probably won’t happen, but i feel like you’ll get bored of me at some point?”
YOU: “i could never get bored of you, baby. well… only your league of legends talk, but i love everything else.”
SB: “what’s wrong with my league of legends talk?”
you gently place your hand on top of his.
YOU: “everything.”
SOOBIN: what is something you want to try in the bedroom that we’ve never done before?
YOU: “bottoms up.”
SB: “hey, no! this is a safe space.”
YOU: “i think my mom is watching this, soobin.”
SB: “hi, y/n’s mom. now tell me.”
YOU: “if i say mine, you have to say yours.”
SB: “deal.”
YOU: “i want to like… tie you up.”
SB: “wait, i was gonna say that!”
YOU: “no way.”
SB: “yes way.”
YOU: “see, we’re a match made in heaven.”
YOU: on the count of three, both of us say the number of children we would ideally have.
YOU: “one, two, three. two!”
SB: “five!”
YOU: “five?”
SB: “i was going to say six, but i lowered it just for you.”
you give soobin an incredulous stare.
YOU: “i need a shot.”
SOOBIN: if you had one hall pass, who would you sleep with?
YOU: “people we know or…?”
the producer gives you a thumbs up.
YOU: “i’m gonna drink.”
SB: “wait, now i’m curious.”
YOU: “what about you?”
SB: “...pour me one, too.”
YOU: who proposed to who, and how did they propose?
SB: “i proposed. but it was really messy.”
YOU: “really cute actually. he had just gotten home from a month-long business trip and, if you didn’t know, he’s a really emotional person—”
SB: “i’m not that emotional.”
YOU: “you cried watching shrek, honey.”
SB: “that was one time.”
YOU: “you also cried during our first ti—”
SB: “continue on with the proposal, please.”
soobin pours another shot, just because, and you laugh under your breath.
YOU: “i was already in bed when he got home and he just got into bed and started bawling.”
SB: “i wasn’t ‘bawling’, i was sniffling.”
YOU: “you were bawling. anyways, he pulled me into his arms and was just like ‘please, please marry me, the love of my life, my entire universe, i can’t live without you, i need you forever—’”
SB: “okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”
YOU: “so you admit you were bawling?”
...
SB: “next question.”
SOOBIN: have you ever seriously considered breaking up with me?
YOU: “i wouldn’t say seriously…”
SB: “so you actually have considered it?”
the pout on soobin’s lips is prominent.
YOU: “you know work takes up a lot of your time, and i didn’t really understand where you were coming from in the beginning. so i guess i’ve thought about it once or twice, but i never really wanted to go through with it. i can’t see myself with anyone else but you.”
SB: “i think i’m the only one that can handle you, anyways.”
YOU: “woah, what does that mean?”
soobin just laughs and kisses the back of your hand.
SB: “take it as you will, baby.”
YOU: how often do we have sex, and how often should we have sex?
SB: “every other day…? i feel like that's more than average.”
YOU: “yeah, you’re very needy.”
SB: “i’m not needy. i’m just obsessed with you.”
YOU: “see, look, you’re trying to get into my pants right now!”
SB: “...is it working?”
YOU: “yes.”
SOOBIN: when was the last time you masturbated, and where was i?
YOU: “like, two days ago? and you were out with one of your friends.”
SB: “i still don’t know if he accidentally saw the videos you sent me or not...”
YOU: “doesn’t sound like you’re complaining.”
SB: “i’m the only one who can fuck you right, so i’m not worried.”
YOU: “mom, if you’re watching this. i’ve never had sex. i don’t even know what sex is.”
YOU: who or what do you picture when masturbating?
SB: “your ass. and your lips.”
YOU: “that was quick, woah.”
SB: “sorry y/n’s mom.”
SOOBIN: what’s your favorite and least favorite sex position?
YOU: “i think i like spooning the most? only because i don’t have to do a lot of work.”
SB: “i can’t believe you tried to convince me you’re not a pillow princess.”
YOU: “i’m not! i can be on top if i want to!”
SB: “isn’t that your least favorite though?”
YOU: “yes, but anything is good if it involves your dick so…”
SB: “and you say i’m the needy one.”
YOU: “it’s mutual!”
YOU: the average duration of sex for most couples is 10 minutes. how long do you think we last?
SB: “honestly, hours.”
YOU: “he has an inhuman libido. please pray for me.”
SB: “okay, ‘inhuman’ is an exaggeration.”
YOU: “no, you are like superman. i’m serious.”
SOOBIN: what is my biggest flaw?
YOU: “you only dress up if it’s for special occasions.”
SB: “i try my best!”
YOU: “will you let me reform your closet?”
SB: “as long as you’re paying.”
YOU: “...nevermind. you look sexy in sweatpants anyways.”
SOOBIN: about 40 to 60% of married couples divorce. do you think we will last?
YOU: “check back in after a year.”
SB: “woah, i thought we were going to grow old and wrinkly and brittle together? you don’t want to bump canes?”
YOU: “i don’t like the way you worded that.”
SB: “so i’m going to take that as a yes.”
you roll your eyes, but a smile forms on your face nonetheless.
YOU: “in all seriousness, you know i’m in love with you and i don’t think there’s anyone else out there that i’d even consider marrying. i’d love to grow wrinkly and old with you.”
SB: “awe, my little prune.”
YOU: “you’re so weird.”
SB: “and now you’re stuck with me forever~”
you look towards the camera.
YOU: “save me, please.”
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masterlist
©️BEOM-PYU
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myahswrldd · 2 months
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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Just the Two of Us
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Request: oh hi! i am flay and br. i ask if you think to make interview with walker scobell x black!f reader. thank u for attention and i hope God's bless you( my english no are so good,sorry for anything.
Warnings: none
Pairing: Walker Scobell x blackfem!reader
Synopsis: the channel that requested this interview invited not only Walker, but you aswell to speak about social media.
A/n: if anyone saw a post before this on my page with the same request, no you didn’t. 😭
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As the camera turns on you start to get comfortable in your seat. “We’re rolling!” One of the camera men said in the background. The interviewer started to cough to clear his throat before he started speaking.
“Hello you two! My name is Nick and welcome to our set! As you can see it’s only you two day. The reason of that is because we wanted to get the both of you together today.”
You started to nod your head and listen to what the interviewer was asking you both. “So,on social media there’s been some..rumors of course.” You started to look around the room,acting as if you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
Walker on the other hand was smiling like crazy in his chair until nick finished his question. You looked over at him, “Hm, since you wanna laugh you can answer this Walker.” you said in a matter of fact tone. Walker started to laugh before he gave in and answered.
“I don’t know about Y/N, but I know I’ve been seeing the comments, the edits, all that. And personally, I don’t have an issue with it,I actually show them to her every one and a while.” You & the interviewer laugh out loud at that then you started to respond. “He really does! It’s been going on for months now, especially on instagram!”
Nick nodded his head at your response. “Yes! I’ve been seeing that too a lot. Are you two ever going to be a thing? You guys definitely seem like it on the media, and the fans wanna know!” You & Walker smile at the same time then look at each other.
Walker started to speak up while clearing his throat. “Yeah I think it’s been something we’ve been wanting to reveal for a while now honestly. But for the people, yes, me and Y/N are together.” His smile got bigger when he said that and so did yours.
You finally reach for his hand and then said, “Yes, even though we weren’t that private in the media we still wanted to enjoy the moment of just us! But now we’re finally ready to share that with others too.” Walker was looking at you the whole time you were talking, nodding and humming along with you.
Nick had listened to you both the whole time during the big confession,especially because it was huge to the both of you. “That’s amazing! I’m generally happy for the both of you and hope that you get far! Tell me, what was it like trying to hide it from the media when this was still fresh?”
Walker turned his head to you, waiting on your response, so you turn to look at him too. “What? You want me to answer?” He just shrugged and chuckled and you sighed. “Well, it was difficult for sure, since Walker has all of these fan girls on him.” You smirk and turn to him as he deadpanned at you.
“They’re not fan girls babe.” With that you raised an eyebrow, “So what are they? Girls that just like you so much they make edits and have their profile pictures as you?” You said giggling. Walker just sighed and let you keep talking.
“But honestly other than that it was really easy, we were really together that much in public before or after we got together.” Nick smiled, “Ah I see, so it wasn’t really much of a struggle, no?” Both of you shook your heads. You began to get tired so you leaned you head on his shoulder.
“Okay, I know this interview was really long, but we can only fit 1 more questions in so let’s make it count!” You started to nod you head with a smile.
“So what was it like working on set together as a couple? I know that must’ve been fun for sure?” Walker got all excited and started nodding frantically. “Since you’re so excited you can answer this one.” You said giggling. “Okay so, it was actually a lot of fun with her on set with all of us really. Y/N is generally funny so that was definitely a bonus. We actually met through Leah actually.”
You cut in, “Yes! Me and Leah were friends before we got casted in the show. I didn’t really know Walker at first but the she introduced us.” Walker continued, “It was really fun with her around, all of the pictures and videos we took of each other and together were so fun.”
Nick finally closed out with, “Thank you both for coming today to be here. Again I congratulate you both on your new relationship!” You and Walker smile in union, “No, thank you for having the both of us here today Nick.” You smile.
“Alright folks and that’s all for tonight, see you next time!” Nick says. Then while closing out the video all three of you wave before it shuts off.
©myahswrldd 2024. All of the works/ writings that are posted under this blog belong to me. Do not copy, plagiarize, nor translate or transfer any of my works.
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bennyden · 2 months
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User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism
Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.
I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.
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First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism. 
I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it. 
On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).
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Not SFW content starts here. 
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Not SFW content over.
Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately. 
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“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.
“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.
My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:
If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.
If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.
In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now. 
And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did. 
After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping. 
Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.
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She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave. 
Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.
Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:
“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”
(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).
“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”
“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”
So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.
‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’
Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.
I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.
She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.
What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us. 
She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from. 
Thanks for reading.
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