#please god the part where it’s like I need you so much closer excuse me while I cry my goddamn eyes out

[whatstheoccasion]

"You are the rock on which I stand, Steady me, please take my hand, Hold me now until the break of day."

— Charles Wiles.

Pirates don't help people, he used to spit. I was not born into this world to help anyone.

Yet, as the fabric of your shirt softly shifts up your skin making you shiver, Law finds himself unable to stop the hand raising his blanket, keeping you warm.

You're not just people, though, he poorly excuses himself. You're more than just anyone to him.

Which is why he pretends to not notice how clingy you get when the sun's barely peeking through the windows, warm and bright enough to make out the shape of your face, features he awkwardly traces with the tip of his fingers, finding himself needing the intimacy, this closeness with you.

He cherishes these slight pieces of yourself you only show him. Asleep, vulnerable and soft to the touch, trusting this callous man to keep your dreams safe, Law has to bite his tongue to hold himself from repeating the same three little words to you like a fool.

He chastises himself for even thinking about it.

And then you start to wake up, with bloated cheeks and messy hair, your eyes still fighting sleep, and God, it's useless, Law thinks. It's an urge too hard to resist– but he refuses to say it out loud. He's content with protecting you as it is, tightening his blanket around you and trying to fix your hair.

Will it be too much for you, he wonders, impatiently waiting for your eyes to fully open, if he physically gives you his heart to keep, to protect?

"Law?"

You shove your face further down his neck, eyes scrunching in a tender way that makes Law's hands clench and unclench with the need to touch.

He hums low on his chest in response, bringing your body closer to his. When you don't continue, eyes closing again, he grumbles out, "Morning."

He feels your smile on his neck, one sleepy kiss pressed against it. "Good morning, love."

It hurts.

Up to this day, Law's guilt clenches with a vice-like grip around his chest, reminding him how he doesn't deserve this warmth, this forgiveness you give him.

It's a hole his heart still aches to fill– this disgusting need for affection, a need he can't allow himself to ask for out loud, but one he desperately looks for anyways.

When you're out and about on a new island, linking pinkies and pressing your side against his, teasing him for his pink cheeks and burning glare.

Aflot in the Polar Bear, dragging his tired self up deck to get some much needed sun in his system, his palms tingling where your hands held him.

On nights he's blessed with your pleasure, where he's insatiable until he makes you his– unsatisfied until every part of you is marked with his name, his traces.

So when you pull him closer to you now, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't tease you like he would any other day, doesn't call you out on how your body seems to always gravitate towards his– today he's not sure if his good intentions would come clear enough, and what if one last remark is what pushes you to finally leave him for good?

Law instinctively holds you closer, letting your body soothe his restless mind. You're here. You're staying. You love him.

You hug him even tighter in your sleep, entwining your legs together, impossibly closer to eachother. He's usually not positive for anything, but you're for sure a gift from his loved ones up above, because only those who cared for him enough could guide you to him.

He has one final thought before dozing off again, as the tiny fluttering of your eyelashes on his skin and the slight rise from the waves of the New World lull him to sleep, carrying so much fondness he doesn't even put up a fight when his eyes start to drop.

His heart is staying right where it belongs.

#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law fluff #one piece scenarios #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law scenarios #im still not back yet. but kindly take these crumbs #this is cheesy and cavity inducing but im feeling soft for this boy #also been in my drafts for way too long it was either posting it as it is or delete its existance. existence? #english hard TT #also a lil bit. just a bit #of #law angst #would probably edit later! #law fluff

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind Part 2

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts, reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Read Part One!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed! If ! forgot anything to include as a warning please let me know. Also, if you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic, just let me know!

Day Three:

Eddie is sitting on the couch upside down, his legs hanging over the backrest and his head dangling over the seat. He stares up at the makeshift ceiling above as he pretends to play the drums on his stomach. The overhead light is starting to make his eyes slightly water but he’s too comfortable to move.

You’ve told him your name and he’s been almost obnoxious with how much he’s using it in your conversation. He’s using any excuse to work it into the front or back of a lot of his sentences. It doesn’t bother you like you thought it would, and you actually love hearing him call you by your name. It helps create a sense of intimacy where you both obviously can’t have it. It makes you feel more real to him, makes you feel closer to him, reminding him that if he sticks this out he could actually see you, maybe even touch you…

“Do you worry about what’s going to happen when this thing ends?” you ask.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replies, moving so he is sitting upright. You sound concerned, your voice sounding smaller. “I don’t want to talk through a wall anymore, I want to talk like actually in person- not like some lab rats.”

“Do you think about what I look like?” you ask cautiously, and Eddie shakes his head as he stands up to walk directly up against the wall. 

“Of course, I’d love to see you,” Eddie explains, “I haven’t actually thought so much about what you look like, I just want to see you. You know? We’ve talked for what- uh, 7 or 8 hours at this point? Which honestly- insanely small amount of time to get to know someone. But like think about it- average date is what? 2 hours, sometimes less. We’ve been on like 4 “normal length” dates in 3 days. And usually you know you like someone by then at least. And I know I like you, and I love talking to you- without seeing me you have made me feel seen. God, that was so fucking cheesy.” 

You feel the corners of your ears well with tears- a little overwhelmed from the affirmations and attention you are not used to receiving. You realize that you never once doubted you’d not like how Eddie looks, nor do you even care either. You don’t understand why your brain won’t let you accept the same could be true for the way Eddie thinks about you. 

“I feel the same way about you,” you respond, and Eddie pumps his fist in victory. “I’ve had so much I’ve needed to work through. I mean, still working through. I have a lot of trouble accepting the fact that someone could actually like me as I am right now. I’ve always had the thoughts of well, I need to change myself and once I’m more like this, then I’ll be attractive or whatever. But, when I’m here, talking with you, I’m not worried about it anymore. But I’m still worried about what it's going to look like when this whole ordeal is over and you actually see me, and I can’t hide behind the wall anymore. But here, when we’re talking, I feel like I can be completely myself with you and I’m scared of losing that. Cause I also really like you.” 

“I can promise you there is nothing about you that would make me not interested,” he reaffirms. “I mean, I already know that you’re pretty- inside and out so it isn’t going to change anything. Except… I’m hoping you’d let me kiss you if you aren’t completely repulsed by me that is. Ugh, I’m sorry. I sound like a pathetic 14 year old boy. But, you know what I mean. Fuck, this is torturous.”

Eddie beams when he hears your little laugh from the other side of the wall again. He wants to know if there’s anyway he can get out of the experiment early. He needs to touch you, pull you into him. He wants to hug you, and have you here sitting next to him- flush up against his side. He’s craving the small pieces of physical intimacy that would just satisfy this restlessness he’s feeling throughout his whole body. It’s like he’s experiencing withdrawals but for something he’s never even been allowed to taste. He wants to shower you with affection the second you let him. 

“So, what are you hoping for at the end of this?” You ask, snapping yourself out of your daze. In the little notebook they provided to everyone, you’ve caught yourself writing Eddie in different styles with little hearts. You snap the book closed, like you're worried he’s gonna see it or something. You roll your eyes at yourself, leaning back on the couch and putting one of the pillows up to your face, embarrassed. You’re so past the point of no return. 

He takes a deep breath, contemplating his answer. Wanting to be honest, but not so honest that he scares you away by moving too fast. Case closed: he just wants to get your number and ask you on real dates. There’s also wildly inappropriate things swirling around in his head, as he reminds himself of what he did last night. But, he’s not ready to admit that fantasy to you just yet. 

“It depends on how you’ll feel most comfortable,” he settled on. “But I’d love to take you on an actual date. Like a real one, not this weird shit anymore. We can sit and talk face to face, so I can stare at you and you can yell at me to cut it out. I want to make you feel special and attractive because you are and you deserve to be entirely spoiled and pampered. However that looks for you, I’m down. I just want to be near you. I’ll go at your pace.”

You were never the type to make the first move, ever. Which is also why you’re here in the first place. You have never had the courage to vocalize any sort of desire to a man like you have with Eddie. It’s been really thrilling, the way he’s been able to help you open up. You feel like you can share your thoughts on what you want physically and he won’t judge you or shame you. You decide to be blunt. 

“If it’s actually true, that you’re physically attracted to me when you see me for the first time,” you say, unable to control the way your whole body gets covered in goosebumps at the thought. “I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.”

“Everything?” 

“I want everything.” 

“Shit, sweetheart, you can’t just say that,” Eddie responds, sounding almost pained. He chuckles, “you’re a tease, you know that?” 

“I’m just being honest,” you respond, and Eddie can hear how you’re being coy. He loves it, he’s happy to hear you coming out of your shell. He’s excited to finally hear about this side of you. You’re slowly but surely peeling back your layers for him. 

“I want you to be more honest,” he flirts. “But Christ, it’s going to be a long week.” 

There were four more days to go before the big reveal. If any of the participants felt they had a connection to another- or fell in love, they’d submit their picks to the technicians and then the technicians would set-up the next phase of the experiment. Unfortunately, if this does happen, the first time you actually get to see Eddie, it’ll still be under surveillance, most likely monitoring heart rate and whatever else they’re looking for. It will feel clinical, which is so not ideal, but once it’s over- you and Eddie could walk out together and do whatever, go wherever. If he still is interested.

“So, um, what type of girls do you usually go for?” you ask, a slight twinge of insecurity working its way back to the front of your mind. 

“Um,” Eddie replies, letting out an exhale, “Alive.” He smiles when he hears a laugh from the other side of the wall. 

“No seriously,” you urge. “I’m curious.”

“I mean- I really don’t have a type,” he states honestly. “I’d like it if she's nice to me, but that’s not even a deal breaker,” he jokes. 

“You like girls being a little mean to you?” You flirt, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“I don’t think I’d hate it,” he grins. “Um, but seriously? I guess I want someone who likes some of the same stuff as me- or at least will put up with me talking about it. I want someone who I feel comfortable around and I’m not afraid to be myself.”

“What about like- appearance wise?” you ask tentatively.

“This feels like a question we shouldn’t be asking,” he taunts. You feel your face get hot. “I feel like if I tell you the truth you won’t believe me,” he answers. 

“Why’s that?” you ask, confused. 

“It feels like you're expecting me to say skinny, blonde and leggy or something, and if I say anything else you’re going to just think I’m lying,” he muses. Your eyes widen at how well he’s able to read you, and it’s mildly infuriating. 

“I think someone or maybe the world or whatever,” he continues, “has convinced you that you aren’t attractive and I really, truly think that isn’t the case at all. And baiting me to try to confirm that isn’t going to work because I can tell it’s a defense mechanism cause you’re afraid.” 

“Well darling,” he smirks, stepping as close as possible to the wall so you hear him clearly, “I’m not gonna let you get away with it. Because, talking to you is convincing me with each passing hour that I’m cooped up in this damn box that this experiment might actually work. I have not been able to think about anything else but getting back to talk to you when I’m not here. You’re desirable, I want you and you’re just gonna have to wrap your pretty little head around that.” 

Buzz

PART THREE

Taglist:

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fan fic #eddie munson #joe quinn characters #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x insecure reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie x you #plus size reader #plus size reader insert #reader insert #reader insert smut #reader insert fanfic

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 26: SHOWER SEX Sōsuke Aizen x F! Arrancar! Reader

Requested by @muzansfangs ➡ Hi! Since you are literally one of my favorite authors, I would like to submit a request for the kinktober event! I would love to read Aizen + shower sex. I trust in your abilities blindly. Add whateve kinks you like! I don’t remember if I had to specify the gender of the reader. In that case, I would like f!reader. Thank you for your hard work and for blessing us with your works! tw: mdni. bathtub sex. praising. vag. arrancar! reader wc: 1.2k masterlist

The sound of dripping water echoing all around the biggest bathhouse you have ever seen. His head thrown back, his chocolate hair too. Arms strong but also lean helps his naked body to float as he grabs from the sides of the tub.

You take some time to admire his beautiful physique. Abs barely visible from over the water level, protruding collarbones, prominent Adam’s apple and the sharpest mandible framing his relaxing façade.

“What, (Name)?” he asks, surprising you with the tray and a cup of tea on your hands.

“I’m sorry, Aizen-sama. I… brought your tea, where should I leave it?” you ask, stuttering. How could you forget how much of a powerful being he is? Of course he could sense your presence… you’ve been created by himself.

Sosuke opens his eyes and after sighing, he turns his head to you. Him, in that sterile environment with everything so white as everything in Las Noches, stands out in such delightful imagery.

“Bring it to me” he commands, with a soft smile on his lips but eyes full of impure intentions.

You nod, and fast enough bring the tea closer to him. You are aware of his nudity, but still try to act as if he was fully clothed… even if your eyes couldn’t get away from the running drops coming from his wet hair to his chest.

Your lips barely part, letting soft sighs of warm breath scape in between them. You slowly kneel on the ground to serve him the tea, you shouldn’t be above your Lord.

Your pupils dilate as he lifts his back just a little, allowing some more of his belly to emerge from the water. Aizen Sosuke is the definition of temptation, of lust, of need…

“Heh… You like what you see?” he asks, breaking the enchantment all of a sudden. “Excuse me, Sir. I didn’t mean to look, I…” you quickly excuse yourself, although your cheeks get on fire and your breathing accelerated.

The ting of the porcelain cup on your hand echoes as much as the water drops… the more you tremble to keep it steady as you pretend to serve him, the more it resonates. And Aizen is delighted, because if there is something that pleases him is when people consider him a god. He enjoys intimidating you as everybody else.

“You seem to be having trouble to serve me a cup of tea today, (Name)… leave the teapot aside for me, please” he orders, always politely but still perversely.

You leave everything on the floor, bowing before him. “I’m sorry, Aizen-sama. I am so unworthy of serving you!” you repeat, hitting your forehead on the wet floor of his bathroom.

He takes his hand to his chin, observing your pathetic intent for mercy, and stops your whining.

“(Name), you might have trouble serving me tea… but I know you are good with other tasks, aren’t you? Come here, help me bathe” he commands, offering your hands the privilege of touching his godly -not so pure- flesh.

You blink, as he stands up. His whole anatomy surfaces, showing you his attributes with absolutely no shame. Aizen extents his hand for you to grab it, as the very depiction of a godly creature inviting you to heaven.

You swallow. A trembling hand of yours touches his, and with his help you stand up from the floor.

“Very well… now, use this to rub my chest” he indicates, giving you a piece of white cloth imbued in water and a soapy substance.

You take it in between your hands; the cloth is warm and so is the water and your core. Your quivering hand approaches his right pec with delicacy, almost as if you were about to touch something fragile.

Aizen smiles lovingly, looking at you in the same way a master looks at his dog. You are, to him, inferior. And still, cute, so very beautiful.

Slowly tracing circles on his flesh, you let a fine mantle of foam. Your eyes, fixed in the pores of his skin, are battling against your own need not to look any further… down, down where his sin start.

However, and besides not watching, pulled by the transgressive force of desire, you lost the battle against morality… you let your cheek to be pressed right in the middle of his chest.

He gasps, would it be a lie to say he wasn’t surprised. Aizen plans it all, but still… there are some types of physical contact that are simply unforeseen. A man whose life has always revolved around being lonely, breaking limits with no mercy for a higher mean, can still get amazed at a sudden show of love.

Sosuke takes some time to think; never has he ever stuttered… but this time he did; and the final decision meant for him to turn off his mind and let desire to take over. This time, as he learnt the Hogyoku was supposed to do, he just let his heart manifest its true desires…

A heavy hand falls on the crown of your head. Though hefty, it’s also delicate and caring. Aizen presses your face against his chest, you can hear the heart inside pumping harder and faster.

“You love me that much, (Name)?” “I love you more than much, my Lord… with all my soul” “Your soul? Mh… I see”

He sighs, not annoyed but pleased. And his hands pass around your waist, pulling you inside the tub swiftly.

You get your white and black uniform all wet, things he doesn’t mind and also enjoys. The transparency of it, showing hard nipples through. The soaking skirt, attaching to your skin, showing your sex.

“Come here” he murmurs, kissing you with a class that cannot be found in another man. It’s also perverse and deadly, and you are all about losing your life for it.

Slowly, softly… both sliding down. Hips straddled on his lap, the water playing with the hem of your skirt, making it float and dance with the way you hump on his hardness.

Sosuke presses you down with his hands on the small of your back; your hands, hang loosely on his shoulder blades. His lips attacking your neck, and the breasts he freed as he tore your uniform.

And the more his kisses go down, the more your back arches with him holding you with playful fingers along your spine. Your hair rains on your back, your cheeks tinted in black drops as your make up has started to smear.

“You know you are here because I created you? And you are here because I wanted to, right? He whispers, kissing in between your breasts, down your sternum.

“Yes, Aizen-sama. I am beyond grateful because you chose me, my Lord. I am completely devoted to you” you murmur, feeling his sex search for your entrance.

“Would you be a good girl and let me fuck you?” he asks, -in reality he doesn’t need to-

You alone lift your hips to help him accede faster to your insides, you are desperate… “Yes, my Lord… please, fuck me”

Aizen smirks, tracing circles with his index on your lower belly around your hollow. And with his free hand, he guides his shaft into you.

Who knows, maybe you were just one more of his Arrancar… Or maybe you were created from a piece of his own very soul, because when he penetrated you, it felt like two forces were finally rejoined…

Taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

#kinktober #kinktober 23 #aizen sōsuke #aizen x reader #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen #aizen bleach #bleach x reader #bleach #bleach anime #bleach x reader fanfic #bleach fanfic #muken aizen #sashi ya #aizen smut #kinktober 2023

[fayes-fics]

More Than Friends

Friends + Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Sequel. Set a couple of months after Are We Friends? After a week away, Anthony missed his girl a lot...

Warnings: 18 smut. minors DNI, handjobs, masturbation (incl. with shower head), vaginal sex, wall/shower sex, touch of edging/denial, unexpected feels in the heart area.

Word Count: 4.8k

Authors Note: This is birthday request fill for @colettebronte for her recent birthday. She requested a sequel to Are We Friends? Sorry I'm a few days late, I hope you enjoy this enough to compensate. This didn’t go where I expected. I know it's Christmas Eve and this isn't remotely Christmassy. Sorry about that. Anyway please enjoy <3

You groan as the insistent buzz of your phone on your bedside table rouses you. You fumble to pick it up and squint at the name onscreen, reluctantly swiping to answer.

“What excuse do you have for calling me at…,” you pull the phone away from your face briefly, grimacing at the brightness, “… 2:13 am, and it better be because you are on fire or something,” you grumble.

“I love how grouchy you are when you wake up,” his baritone voice laced with amusement.

“Bridgerton,” your tone is a warning.

“I was hoping you’d let me in,” Anthony chuckles.

You sit bolt upright. “You are here? Now? Why?!”

“Yes, and yes, I figured ringing your phone was politer than your doorbell. To the last part, do I need a reason?” he drops almost an octave lower,

“Oh god, is this a booty call?” you mime brushing a gross substance off yourself even though he can’t see you.

“Are you going to let me in or not?” He chides but with no heat, evading the question.

“If you answer these riddles three…” you begin, your spirited antagonism still there despite your burgeoning relationship.

“Let me in, weirdo,” he chortles.

“Okay, okay.”

You throw back the covers and shuffle to your front door on autopilot, still not fully awake. Opening the front door to find a suave, suited man with no tie and two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone. You almost resent how debonair and put-together he is in the early hours. It's been a week since you saw him in person, and you are surprised as you realise how much you missed him, as he stands before you in flesh and blood.

“You look adorable,” he sighs fondly and steps over the threshold to embrace you.

It just dawns on you; you didn't even check your reflection on the way to the door. Your hair is probably a state, but at least you can usually pull off a spaghetti-strapped top and pyjama bottoms.

“Shut up, I do not; I look sexy and fierce,” you lobby as his arms wrap tight around your waist.

“Of course you do. Adorably sexy,” he placates with mock assurance, his breath warm on your neck as he rests his head on your shoulder, curling into you. On instinct, you hug him back and push your front door closed over his shoulder.

“So what are you doing here?” your bemusement muffled into the hair at his temple as he hunches over you. Up close, you can see a few greys, and it does something to you that you don't want to think about. There are traces of his cologne, but mostly he just smells like Anthony, and you breathe deep, the scent both comforting and stimulating.

“I missed you,” he says simply.

“I saw you yesterday on Facetime, weirdo,” you point out, parroting back his word but enjoying the extended embrace. He hasn't kissed you yet, which is unusual—this seems more affectionate than sexual.

“That’s not the same,” he argues, his lips brushing the sensitive skin under your ear, his hug even tighter. “My plane just landed; I had my driver drop me here.”

“Is that because Ealing is closer to Heathrow than Mayfair?” your query tinged with a touch of sarcasm.

“No, weirdo, it's because I wanted to see you,” he pulls away from your shoulder and cups your face. “But I'm glad it's closer; I'm exhausted,” he admits quieter, and you see the tiredness etched into the corners of his eyes, even in the muted glow of your hallway lamp. He moves in and kisses you, but it’s a gentle, chaste brush over your lips that makes your insides melt just a fraction.

“So, not a booty call? This is a use-my-bed-to-crash-in call?” you tease gently with a twisted pout, holding his hands and walking backwards towards your bedroom.

“If you don't mind, yeah, I just need sleep,” he says sotto voce, stifling a yawn and trailing you.

The fact that he has sought you out to sleep next to you, not sleep with you, seems like a rather profound step forward in your dynamic. But then, many things can seem consequential in the early hours, so you decide not to dwell on it.

“No suitcase?” you remark as you move into the darkness of the bedroom.

“Had my driver take my luggage home,” he explains, shucking his jacket and hanging it on the little chair you use as a clothes horse more than anything. The fact that he knows it causes a tiny flutter of something in your stomach.

“Want some help?” you offer modestly, gesturing to his hand now on his fly, testing the waters around if sex might happen despite his tiredness.

He shakes his head but with a look appreciative of the offer. Ok, no sex then.

“Why don't you get into bed? I'll just brush my teeth and join you shortly.”

You settle under the covers as he disappears into your bathroom, trying not to let your mind turn over too much about this different situation. Jetlagged and sleepy Anthony is a very sweet thing, not your usual sexy sparring partner.

After a few moments, there is a dip in the bed as he climbs into the other side behind you. An arm wraps around your waist as he shuffles into you and pulls you back into him in a spooning position. You feel a wave of body heat through the cotton of your nightwear and realise he is only in boxer briefs. His embrace is comforting, and he sighs onto your shoulder, dropping a soothing kiss there before fluffing the pillow and settling around you, his hand warm on your belly, his minty breath dusting the nape of your neck as he seems to bury his face in your hair and inhale deeply.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, almost into your skull.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, knowing his warmth and weight will probably lull you back to sleep before you have too many errant thoughts about what is transpiring. When his breathing slows and gets deeper, you feel yourself being tugged under too.

—

Something doesn't feel right. Not in a bad way, not in the slightest. Something feels far too good, and it's distracting your slumber. Or maybe it's just a very vivid dream. Why you would be waking up within a dream seems like a strange point to focus on… Then suddenly, there is a zing of pleasure in your breast that races down your body to your core.

Your world rearranges as you dance the line between sleeping and waking. The sensation becomes sharper as a strong pull on your nipple hurtles you into consciousness with a sharp inhale.

“The lady awakens,” his bemused rumble skitters across your rapidly goose-pebbling skin. You are lying on your back, your top rucked up around your armpits, and there is a head of chestnut hair as you look down.

Anthony Bridgerton. On top of you. His mouth attached to your left breast, something hot and hard branding your thigh through his underwear, where he straddles it.

“Anthony,” your voice is rough-edged from sleep.

His lips pull off your nipple as his head tilts up—his brown eyes shining in the pastel morning light bleeding through the curtains.

“I thought waking you up this way might not be entirely unpleasant for you,” the smirk on his handsome face far too appealing. “An apology for the early hours wake-up call.”

“You are always welcome here, open invitation,” you answer truthfully, “but especially if this is your idea of an alarm clock. Please continue,” you quip, whipping off the top rucked up around your armpits and raising an expectant eyebrow.

He huffs a laugh and kisses your sternum before transferring to your right breast, climbing between your legs and settling over you in a wave of natural body scent that makes your mouth water.

He lathes his tongue wide over your nipple, lapping gently, then biting down with an edge of teeth until it is a stiff peak that he closes his luscious lips around and sucks hard. You can’t hold back the little staccato noises as your hands run over his muscular shoulders and into his luscious hair.

“Sadly,” his speech ghosts over your saliva-damp flesh, “I need to take a shower before this goes any further. I should have taken one last night, but I was too exhausted. Need to wash the journey off me,” he attests as he goes back to lightly kissing your breast.

You doubt that phrase carries as much significance for someone travelling first class as it does back in economy, where you’re usually crammed in, but you can understand the sentiment.

“I think you smell pretty good right now,” you voice without thought.

“I feel like I haven’t showered in 24 hours which, with the time difference, I probably haven’t,” he deadpans as he surges up and pecks your cheek, his chest hair tickling the stiff damp peaks of your nipples. “Care to join me?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye as he kisses over to your ear.

“Is this your way of telling me I smell bad?” You joke, but there’s a flit of concern on your face.

“Y/n,” his resonant voice uttering your name so close to your ear makes your pussy clench as he traces the shell with his nose, “of course you don’t; you always smell wonderful,” the casual compliment just slipping out. “Will you please just say yes to this obvious invitation to shower sex?”

Oh.

“Well, in that case….” you reply, running your hands into his luscious hair, “yes, Lord Bridgerton, I will shower with you.”

“Thank you. Was that so difficult?” he teases with a playful pout, pulling back the covers and hauling you out of bed topless.

His boxer briefs are tented in a delicious way, and part of you wants to just sink to your knees and take him in your mouth regardless of how much he wants to shower. In fact, something about him being a little less than fresh is a peculiar turn-on—just so very potently him.

“Why are you looking at me like you’ve never seen my erection before?” His bemused expression tracking your eye line and not missing your subtle lip bite as he moves towards the bathroom, still holding your hands.

“What? It’s an impressive one. You’ve been away for a week, and maybe I just need to remind myself,” you posit as he pulls you into an embrace.

“Oh, is that so?” His tone is light and taunting, arms encircling your ribcage. He stills in the doorway and surges his hip towards you, so you feel his rigid cock pressed into your belly. “Memory coming back yet?” Dropping his voice into a range that is sinful.

“Maybe…” you demure into his shoulder, then pull away, moving to brush your teeth before you act on the urge to kiss him senseless.

He crowds into your back as you reach for toothbrushes. There is something so casually intimate about the stolen glances in the mirror as you both brush, his chest hair tickling your shoulder blades as he spiders his fingers under the curve of your breast with a small foamy smile. As you rinse, his fingers untie the drawstring on your pyjama bottoms, and his reflection smoulders as he pushes them over the swell of your hips, falling to the floor. He presses the length of his body into your back, and you emit a faint moan as his heated flesh drags over yours; something rigid and hot nestles the upper curve of your bottom.

“Better get naked if you plan to shower,” you smirk at him in the mirror and feel a swell of triumph as he reaches down and pushes off his underwear. His cock bobbing up insistently. You whip around to face him, fisting him and squeezing reflexively.

“Fuckkk,” he stutters, and a hand rounds behind your head, grabbing with an intensity that surprises and arouses, fingers curling into the cords of your neck. “I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to have your hand on me rather than my own.”

The admission sounds like he’s not been intimate with anyone else since you last saw him. You’ve not discussed exclusivity yet, but he is a rich man travelling the world on business, and you have no delusions about the lifestyle that might entail if he so chooses. As you pump him gently in your hand, your breath catches at the mental image of him with his hand wrapped around his cock in some fancy five-star hotel room, sprawled in the middle of a plush king-sized bed.

“You should have called me; I could have talked you through my technique,” you jest, deciding to meet his statement with light humour, your hands moving to cup his balls as he hums contentedly, the hand on your neck squeezing.

“Noted for next time,” is the amused reply, and then he walks you back into the shower enclosure, flicking on the dial.

The warm spray hits your shoulder blades, and you sigh, pulling his arms to join you. He hums in satisfaction, his head tilting back as he luxuriates in the stream of water. You turn up the pressure on the showerhead, and his resounding moan of pleasure echoes up the shower walls; the deep, rich tone causes your nipples to pebble hard—you have to fight your urge to twine around him. Instead, you reach for your shower gel and loofah and scrub his skin lightly, starting at his neck.

“Mmmmm, please, can I have you in my shower every time?” his voice wistful, eyes still closed, almost swaying.

You gently and methodically bathe the skin of his arms and upper torso, enjoying swirling patterns into his chest hair as you buff him clean. As you move lower over his abs, you can't help but grab his cock with a soapy hand and squeeze lightly, cleansing it thoroughly as you tease with delicate motions. He moans and slowly opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with hooded desire.

“I'm just making sure you are thoroughly clean,” you tease, the hand still rubbing his cock long after it is sufficiently cleansed.

He grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss that is all tongues and teeth, biting in intensity. Your tongues roll over each other in tandem with the movement of your hand. When he finally lets you take a breath, you quietly ask him to turn around. He whines a little as you release his cock, but does as you request. Pausing to admire the sweeping curve of his back and the expanse of muscle tapering down to the trim bum that is so irresistible, you push your body into his back, nipples catching his ribs, and he growls as you teeth the upper notch of his spine.

“Touch yourself,” you whisper into the nape of his neck, and surprisingly he does so without retort. He’s usually the one who takes charge, but his silent obedience makes your breath hitch.

He groans softly, and you can’t resist a peek over his shoulder, his body curled slightly concave, cock fisted in his right hand, moving at a languid pace. Reluctant to look away from the delicious tableau, you run the loofah down his spine and lather his back before your hands land on his pert rounded cheeks. You crouch down to wash his muscular, tanned legs, kissing a cheek and enjoying the way his bum flexes as you do. You straighten back to stand behind him, listening to his huffed little noises, watching his arm speed up a fraction as your soapy fingers slide along the crack of his ass.

“All clean; you can stop now,” you offer into his skin.

There is a blur of movement as suddenly he grabs the auxiliary shower head and flicks the spray to a different setting, spins around and pushes it between your legs, the jet expertly pummeling your clit in hot pulsing waves. You almost squeal at the intensity—the switch of power back to him in a whiplash moment.

“How is that?” His voice is velvety as he bites your earlobe. “I need to hear all your delicious sounds, don’t hold back now.”

You attempt to writhe away from the intense sensation, but a strong arm holds you in place, pushing the shower head more insistently up into your flesh. You moan, and he encourages you, a wet slippery hand smearing down your back and spanking your cheek, making you jump and squeak.

“Get inside me.” The plea tumbles from your lips. You want, no, you need, to feel him invading you, his hands rough on your body, him making needy noises, you begging for more.

He drops the shower head, so it is pulsing aimlessly into a far corner, water pattering against the glass, and walks you until your back bumps into the wall. The tiles are cool and glassy upon your heated flesh as he grabs your left leg and loops it over his slippery arm, pulling you open. All with a devastating look on his beautiful face, droplets of water skating down his cheekbones, lips parted and plush; you just can’t take your eyes off him.

Then he nudges your entrance with his tip, requesting access.

“Did you sleep with anyone else when you were away?” your concern slipping out unbidden.

He frowns, and there is a minute shake of his head. “No, why would I?”

“I wanted to know before we do this again, unprotected,” you whisper vulnerably, closing your eyes, embarrassed. Except for that first heated night, you have been using condoms.

“I would never do that,” his sincerity makes your eyes fly open. “We are together; you are the only person I’m having sex with, the only person I've had sex with since that party, and the only one I’ve done it this way with in many years.”

You rest your forehead on his cheek. “Thank you,” you mumble quietly, him answering your lingering questions and erasing doubts in a few sentences.

“Don’t thank me; you should expect that of me. You have no idea what a gift this is, what we have—this connection, this dynamic. It’s very…. precious to me,” he murmurs into your jaw. It’s the rawest and most unguarded he has ever been. Your breath catches as he does so. Something glowing and fluttering under your ribs, like it wants to break free.

“Anthony Bridgerton.” you breathe lightly, your heartbeat soaring in your veins, “are we becoming more than friends?”

“I’m afraid so,” his laugh is a precious feathered thing as he surges into your body and steals all other thoughts from your head.

He stills buried deep inside you, filling you in a way no one else has. Just this has your clit pulsing from the stretch, heat and presence of him. He shoots you an affectionate, heated look before his lips find yours. The hand not around your leg cups your jaw and directs the kiss into something open-mouthed and greedy as he rocks into your body, swallowing your little noises. This languid slow pace feels like the start of something electric, like the patter of rain that arrives before an intense storm you can hear rumbling on the horizon.

Your hands band around his bum as his thrusts grow more intense, and you encourage the movement with a press of your fingers into the muscular round of his bottom. Your teeth skim the meaty muscle where his neck meets his shoulder, and it spurs him to push deeper, piercing your hilt and tugging on that invisible string that seems to run between your hipbones and makes your eyes roll back and your brain turn to static.

“God, Anthony, please, fuck me so hard,” your voice barely recognisable to you, needy and throaty.

The corresponding noise he makes has every cell of your body on fire. This man’s ability to invade your every sense is something that might typically scare you, but with him, it just feels like something primal and earthy—a meeting of bodies just as nature intended.

You gasp as he hooks your other leg over his other arm, pressing the length of your spine hard into the wall. You are entirely at his mercy now, held in his arms, pinned, sliding on the damp, cool tile as the warm swirl of mist from the rain-head shower curls around you.

“I’ve got you,” he assures against your temple.

You nuzzle his face until he pulls back a little, intuiting you need to see his face. There’s a sincerity in his wild gaze that feels so close to authentic that it's a dangerous fire, his eyes blazing burned umber.

You transmit your trust all you can with the sincerity of your expression, and his responding smile is like warm honey settling over your bones as he starts to move again. The solemnity of the moment you just shared rapidly morphs into something hot and desperate again. Him driving up into your body with a snap of his hips that makes him grunt and you keen, wrapping your arms tight around his neck as he fucks you with a blistering pace and depth, your breasts squashed across his pectoral muscles.

Curses and a chorus of yeses fall from your lips between panting breaths as he takes you with such force you slam into the tiles; you know your spine will be sore later, but you don’t care. You want this so much. Blinding pleasure licks at the corners of your conscience as you feel him hot and steely, pounding into you over and over, your walls clinging to him as he stretches you in that delicious way.

He is panting hard from the effort and exertion right in your ear. His occasional moans and words cause a spike of lust in your body, and you whisper encouragements and pleas to not stop, greedy for what you need to push you over the edge.

His arms hitch your legs higher, and he moves down the wall, so your bottom rests on a cool metal grab bar. His hands wrap around it; your legs held up and open even more. The change of angle and leverage for him makes the experience even more intense. He can drive much more vigorously now, and he starts to push up and hit that spot inside that makes you cry out, slamming against your clit as he hits your hilt.

“Fuck Anthony,” you grit out, your teeth clenched, jaw held tight and whole body going taunt as you dangle close to the edge of your orgasm so suddenly.

He slows his pace, and you groan in frustration, taking long, languid motions, using the grab bar to propel himself up and into you.

“I’m so close,” you grit out.

“I know you are,” his voice velvety and proud, “that’s why I slowed down; I want to take you to the edge so many times. I love it when you are mindless and drunk on sex.”

“Anthony, please let me come,” you plead.

“You will,” he vows.

“I want it now,” you pant, almost petulant.

He chuckles richly into your ear “it will be so much better if you let me do this. I’ll only do it one more time, I promise. Then you will come multiple times, and I will fuck you through it.”

So aroused by that little speech, you just nod and move a hand from around his neck to slide between your bodies and pinch your nipple.

“Oh yes, that’s it,” he goads, moving quicker, spiralling you higher again. Your clit and channel burning hot and pulsing. Just as you feel the first ripple of your cunt he stills completely, and you thrash hard in frustration at the denial. You desperately try to move, but he bears you so tight onto the wall that you have no range of motion. You are pinned and impaled onto his cock as he keeps you open to the top of your channel, throbbing and denied. You feel your scalp crawl and every digit on your body flex.

“Anthony,” your voice ragged, “please, please let me come.”

He pulls back, and the mischief and arousal over his face blow you away. He holds your gaze and tilts your heads together as he starts to roll his hips, surging into you almost in a wave-like action.

“Look at me,” he commands when your eyes flutter closed, and so you do, reopening them and meeting his intense stare.

Suddenly he is moving at a blistering pace, and you start to yell with every stroke, but he won’t let you look away. His nose on yours, your mouth panting the same air.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and your hand slips between your bodies. The moment your fingertips brush your swollen clit, you yell, and you can’t stop the tide from approaching. Your whole body convulses in strong waves as you scream, cry, and writhe on him. Yet his pace doesn’t waver. He just hisses through his teeth as your body clamps around his cock. His lips find yours and slant over each other with bruising intensity.

He was right. Twice denied, you are so overwrought that his pounding action takes you repeatedly until you are floating somewhere far away from your physical self, going limp in his arms, your mind utterly offline. The blissful state is almost ethereal as you feel him grunting and stilling, emptying himself with a guttural moan as deep as he can be inside you, his whole being twitching, his mouth open over yours, gusting hot and cursing loudly. You feel the warmth of his cum running down your walls as he slowly softens and slips out of your body.

“Holy shit,” you whisper; nothing has been as close to that intense before, and your legs feel weak and stiff as a newborn giraffe as he gently lowers you to the floor with a bemused huff.

“I told you,” he preens, reaching to flick off the shower as you just slump against the tile, grasping the railing you were perched on for leverage.

“Anthony, I don’t think my legs work,” you confess, trying to move but unable.

“Good,” he laughs, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently over and over. “I fucked you so well you can’t walk, just like I promised on text the other day.”

“I thought that was a figure of speech” you shake your head disbelieving.

“Oh no, definitely not,” he counters with a smug but handsome smile. “I guess you’ll just have to lay with me in bed all day to recover,” he says playfully kissing your nose, “what a horrible shame.”

——

Later, entangled in bed together after a delicious brunch (where you had your usual sparring contest that somehow ended up making out roughly against the fridge), he pulls you under him and stares into your eyes.

“There is something I would like to give you,” he expresses, almost reserved.

He leans away and snags something from his trouser pocket on the floor beside the bed.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

“This better not be something where you put a spider on me,” you wisecrack as he unfurls your hand on the pillow next to your head.

“I promise it's not that,” he chuckles as he places something sharp and cold into your palm. “Open,” he orders softly, and you see a slim metal key in your hand.

You look up at him with a knitted brow.

“That is a key to my place,” he explains. “I would like you to use it whenever you want. Even if I'm not home, you are always welcome.”

You can’t stifle the gasp that escapes your lips at the significance of the gesture, and you push up and plant a kiss on his lips.

His voice turns even more delicate, as if talking too loud would break the moment. “I couldn't bear the thought of returning to an empty apartment after a week away alone,” he admits quietly. “That's why I came here instead. I know it's only been a few weeks, but I have known you most of my life, and I just… I like being around you.” As he finishes the sentence, his exhale has a slight tremulant quality. “There’s no one I would rather spar with on a lazy Saturday,” he adds with a winning smile that makes you huff a misty-eyed laugh.

“Anthony, I… I… I don't even have a spare key to give you,” you blurt out, a fretting look clouding your expression.

His hearty laugh at your response fills the room.

“I know a locksmith,” he shrugs with a modest smile. “But….” he elongates the last letter of the word as his hands slide down your sides and his lips find that sensitive spot below your ear. “I think that can wait until later. Don't you?” His tone turns silky and decadent as he rolls his whole body into yours, his hard cock brushing your clit.

Yes, it can definitely wait.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

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[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part Moodboard

Specific Chapter Warnings: child birth, pregnancy, breastfeeding

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Chapter 19: President Dadshaw

Vice President Seresin was sitting peacefully in the audience of the first independent primary debate. He could tell that you and Bradley had some issues before coming here and that whatever they were, they were weighing heavily on Bradley.

The truth is, Bradley and Jake had never done a debate without you. They hardly ever went anywhere without you. You were their anchor.

Jake was listening to Governor Jackson drone on about he plans for foreign policy when he felt his phone vibrate. He noticed it was Jaycee calling. Jake thought it was odd that she would be calling him because he knew that she knew he was at the debate. Worried something had happened, he alerted Dante and the two of the stepped out.

"Hello?" Jake said into his phone as he and Dante found a secluded corner of the lobby.

"Jake! Oh my god! Thank God you picked up!" Jaycee practically shouted.

"Jay, is everything okay?" Jake asked. He could hear the worry in her voice.

"No! Everything is not okay. You need to get Bradley out of that debate now! Y/N's water broke, and we are about to take her to the hospital!" Jaycee panted. Jake could hear her running around in the background.

"Oh my god! Okay, Dante and I will get him, and we will be there ASAP." Jake replied quickly before hanging up the phone.

"Dante. We need the president now. The Y/N is in labor, and they are taking her to Walter Reed right now. We have to meet them there." Jake stated. Dante nodded his head and sprang into action.

He wasted no time sprinting back into the auditorium and rushing to the the stage.

"Sir, we are in the middle of the debate, you cannot be out here right now!" The moderator shouted. Dante ignored him as he told Bradley what was happening, and his eyes went wide.

"Folks, I must apologize, I— there is an emergency, and I cannot continue with this debate. Please forgive me." Bradley spoke as he turned to follow Dante.

"Is there actually an emergency, or are you just afraid that you're losing, Mr. President?" Governor Jackson sneered into his microphone.

Bradley stopped. His shoulders tensed up before he turned on his heels and stormed his way back to the podium.

"For your information, Mr. Jackson, I've just been told that my wife is in labor, and I would very much like to be there for the birth of my children. Is that going to be a problem? If so, you can send a formal complaint to my office, and I can file it in the exact same place where I would file your foreign policy proposal—in the trash." Everyone was dead silently.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. Thank you." Bradley said as he nodded his head and left.

....................

"Jaycee, what if Bradley doesn't make it to the hospital in time? What if he misses their birth. I can't deliver these two without him." You panicked as the SUV the two of you were in zoomed through the streets of D.C.

"Eveything is going to be fine. Jake and Dante are bringing him. Don't worry." Jaycee said as she patted your hand. Another contraction ripped through your body. They were getting closer together now and you were freaking out.

The White House staff had already alerted Walter Reed Medical Center that you were on your way, and they would be ready to take you into an operating room as soon as you got there. Dr. Park had explained that it was standard procedure with twins, just in case things went south, but you had planned to deliver naturally if at all possible.

The dark SUV screeched to a hault in front of the emergency doors. A nurse came with a wheelchair as Jaycee helped you in. You were quickly wheeled in where your vitals were taken, and you changed into a pink hospital gown. Soon, you were hooked to monitors for you and the twins and Dr. Park determined you were five centimeters dilated already.

Jaycee sat with you and held your hand as you went through more contractions. In the hurry to get out the door, you'd left your phone. Jaycee was trying to get ahold of Jake and Bradley but was unsuccessful.

"Jay, any word?" You grunted out. "No, love. I'm sorry." Jaycee responded as she gave your had a squeeze.

"How am I supposed to do this without him? I know we had a fight before he left, but I didn't mean what I said, and I know he didn't either. We are both just stressed. What if he isn't coming?" You cried.

"Hey, we aren't going to think like that. I can only imagine the stress you two are under. Bradley loves you more than anything in this world. He is going to be here for you. No debate is more important than you and these two kiddos to him." Jaycee spoke softly as she wiped a tear from your face.

"And if these two are in such a hurry and he doesn't make it, I'll be right here with you holding your hand. You didn't leave me when I needed you, and I'm damn sure not leaving you now." Jaycee assured you with a teary smile.

You smiled back at her and gritted your teeth through another contraction. You briefly thought about calling your mother and father, but they didn't deserve to be a part of this.

"Can you call Penny and Maverick? Bradley would want them to be here." You asked Jaycee. They had flown in earlier this week ahead of your induction. You and Bradley had already decided that they would be the grandparents your children needed and deserved.

Jaycee nodded her head and dialed him. Maverick picked up on the first ring and immediately told Jaycee that he and Penny would be there soon.

................

"Dante! Why aren't we moving?" Bradley shouted from the backseat of his car. His leg bounced nervously against the floorboard.

"Sir, traffic has stopped. It looks like there is an accident up ahead." Dante said.

"How far away are we from Walter Reed?" Bradley asked.

"About ten blocks, sir." Dante informs him. "I'm sure things will get moving soon. My wife was in labor for quite a while with our first one. You shouldn't have anything to worry about." Dante tried to reassure Bradley, who was looking worse for wear.

"Oh shit!" Jake exclaimed when he took his phone out of his pocket. He'd never turned the ringer up, and he had several missed calls and texts from Jaycee. He also had one from Mav and Penny informing him they were on their way.

He quickly called Jaycee, who informed him that you were settled in a room, and apparently, seven centimeters dilated.

He passed the information on to Bradley, and that seemed to only make things worse. "Her labor is progressing pretty fast." Dante remarked. He was trying to keep his cool, but a sweat had broken out across his brow. "Sir, I'm trying, I really am, but we are at a standstill. Jamison, are you picking up any chatter that this might clear soon?" Dante asked his partner.

"Negative, Dante. It's a pile-up. The traffic reports are saying it might take hours to clear." Jamison replied.

Bradley let out an exasperated sigh. He didn't have hours. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew how to get to Walter Reed from here, and ten blocks really wasn't that far. Surely he could get there before traffic would clear.

So, he decided on a little less thinking and a little more doing. Before anyone could talk him out of it, Bradley ripped off his purple tie, tore off his suit jacket, and jumped out of the car.

"Rooster! What the fuck are you doing man?" Jake yelled as he and Dante jumped out after him.

"Not thinking! I have to be there for her! I'm not missing this!" Bradley yelled behind him as he started running down the sidewalk in the direction of the hospital as fast as his sleek dress shoes would take him.

Dante shrugged and looked at Jake and Jamison. "Well, aren't you going to follow him?" Dante asked as he looked at his partner. "Why me?" Jamison asked with a befuddled look.

"You're a decade younger than me and have better knees. We can't just let the president run through Maryland by himself. Hop to it." Dante instructed. Jamison shook his head before taking off after Bradley.

Bradley's feet came down hard on the sidewalk. He vaguely heard Jamsion yelling behind him, asking him to slow down, but he wouldn't. He couldn't. Bradley was sure that people in the stopped cars were wondering why the president of the United States was running down the street in the late evening, and he knew there would probably be pictures and videos on social media and in the news that you would inevitably scold him for, but he didn't care.

He'd left you on such a sour note, and now he could potentially miss the birth of his children.

He rounded another block, running right in front of a cab and past a group of middle-aged women and their dogs. He hurdled over a curb before making another turn. Soon, the front of the hospital was in sight.

His legs were burning, his lungs were on fire, and his feet felt like bricks, but he didn't slow down. He ran through the parking lot straight into the lobby. He barreled to a stop right in front of the nurses station and information desk.

"My—I—she—we—where?" Bradley panted out. His hands were on his knees, and his face was flushed as he tried to talk to the poor, startled young woman at the desk. She sat there unsure how to respond. Instead, she silently got up and led Bradley down the hall.

She stopped outside an unmarked wooden door. Bradley could hear your groans of pain as he stood outside. She knocked on the door. It opened, and Bradley wqs quickly let inside.

"Sweetheart!" He exclaimed as soon as he came in. Your eyes darted over to him. "Bradley!" You cried as soon as you saw him.

He tried to rush towards you, but a nurse quickly stopped him. "Mr. President. This is technically an operating room. I'll need you to change and scrub up, just in case They told him. Bradley nodded and was led to a small area where the necessary garb he had to wear was waiting.

Once he was changed and had new shoes, courtesy of the hospital, because his fell apart the moment he stepped out of them, Bradley was by your side.

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm right here. And I'm so sorry about earlier." He sighed as he pushed some hair out of your face. Jaycee, now that Bradley had arrived, left to go wait for everyone else in the lobby.

"I'm sorry too. It's just so hard for me to turn off that part of my brain." You told him. "I'm so glad you're here. I hate that you had to leave the debate." You tell him.

"It's fine." He replies. "Why—" You begin just as another contraction hits, and you squeeze his hand. "Why are you so sweaty?" You finish. "Got stuck in traffic. Ran like ten blocks to get here, and my feet are killing me, but it's fine." Bradley half laughs.

"Oh, your feet hurt? Your poor thing." You tell him sarcastically. He opens his mouth to say something. But you lean forward and let out a string of curses as the most powerful contraction of the night rages though you.

"Mrs. Bradshaw, you're ten centimeters. You can push whenever you're ready." Dr. Park informs you. You have Bradley help you lean up and scoot closer to the edge of the bed.

"Bradley, I need you to promise me something." You tell him.

"What, Sweetheart?" He asks you. "If it comes down to it. If it's me or them—" you say.

"No." He cuts you off. "We aren't having this conversation because that's not going to happen." Bradley tells you in his most serious tone. He's read the books and seen the statistics just like you have. He doesn't want to think about anything bad happening because it's not. Everything is going to be fine.

"Bradley, please." You let out a tearful cry. "No, Y/N. I'm leaving the hospital with one wife and two babies. That's final." Bradley states. He prays that by speaking it into existence, it will be true. He doesn't want to think about any other outcomes. He doesn't want to be put in a position where he has to choose.

Bradley knows you'd pick the lives of your children over your own, and he knows you would want him to do the same, but deep down, Bradley was selfish. You could have other children, he couldn't have another you. And if it came down to it, he doesn't know if he would be strong enough to let you go.

He shakes the thought from his head, and you bear down. He wipes your brow and praises you while you are crushing his hand and cursing his name.

"You'd better get me the best damn push present, Bradley. I'm serious because I'm doing twice the work!" You bark out as you push.

"And baby number one is here! It's a girl!" Dr. Park exclaims as she holds up your daughter. Your anger fades into happiness as she is laid on your chest. "Hi, baby girl, welcome to the world." You say. Bradley is speechless as he looks at her in awe. Dr. Park gives the two of you a moment before asking Bradley to cut the cord. You only get a few minutes with your baby girl before it's time for her brother to make his debute.

Baby number two makes a much quicker entrance into the world. Just like his sister, he's placed on your chest for you to admire, and Bradley to be awe struck by.

After both of them are cleaned up and assessed, Dr. Park tells you they both seem to be in good health but wants all three of you to stay for a few days just to be sure. Later that night, you and Bradley are both too tired to sleep. You're both standing over the bassinets as you watch the two little lives you've created sleep peaceful side by side. You and the staff had tried to put them down separately, but they both cried until they were placed next to each other.

"You'd think they'd want their own space after sharing my womb for so long." You joked.

"Maybe this means they'll always be close." Bradley sighed as he placed a kiss to your temple. "You did so good, honey. They're perfect." Bradley praises you.

You smile at each other and enjoy the quiet. But the moment is soon interrupted, but the soft cry of your daughter.

"Oh no. Are you okay, Elle? You ask her as you carefully lift her up, trying not to disturb her brother. She opens her eyes and looks up at you. She blinks slowly before cooing softly. You know she's only a few hours old, but you can already tell she has your eyes and your nose. The dusting of hair on her head is almost the same color as yours.

Soon, your son, who you can already tell, will be his father's twin stirs. It's like he can sense his sister is missing. Bradley picks him up and gently rocks him. "It's okay, Andy. Elle is right here with Mommy. Daddy's got you, buddy." Bradley whispers to him.

After you feed both of them, they fall into a deep sleep. Bradley helps you into your bed before stretching out onto the roll away that was brought for him. Tomorrow, you'll let Maverick and Penny and Jake and Jaycee meet the twins. But tonight, you enjoy the moment where it is just the four of you.

..............

The morning light streamed into your hospital room earlier than you would have liked. You sat up looking for Bradley only to find him shirtless in an oversized chair with the twins on his chests and a blanket covering each of them.

"I gave them each a bottle, and we have just been hanging out. I know you said you wanted to try breastfeeding, but I didn't want to wake you." Bradley whispered to you from across the room.

"It's fine. Fed is best. Think you can handle it for a little bit longer? The lactation nurse said she would be here early this morning to show me the right way to use my pump and to help with latching." You told him. Bradley nodded and continued to live his best dad life as he quietly sang and whispered to the twins.

After a lesson in breastfeeding and pumping, you tried and were able to Andy and Elle to latch. You were able to pump a small amount, and the nurse reassured you that your supply would increase. You took it in stride, knowing you were going to try your best, but you wouldn't feel like a failure if you ended up having to formula feed.

Around lunch, you arranged for Maverick and Penny to come and visit, and Jake and Jaycee would come that evening.

Mav and Penny were speechless when they came into the room. You carefully scooped up your daughter and handed her to Penny once she had sat down. She and Mav looked at her and sighed. "She's beautiful. What's her name?" Penny asked.

"Her name is Eleanora Carole Bradshaw." You beamed at them. "And this is Andrew Nicholas Bradshaw." Bradley said as he gentle put your son in Pete's arms. "But for now, they are Andy and Elle." Bradley smiled. "Andy and Elle. How perfect." Maverick said with a few tears in his eyes.

"Your parents would be so proud." He told Bradley. "I know." Bradley smiled.

"What about your parents Y/N? Don't they want to meet their grandchildren?" Penny asked you.

"As far as I'm concerned, you two are the only grandparents they need. Maybe down the road, we can work something out, but for now, it's Grandpa Mav and Grandma Penny all the way." You assured her.

After a wonderful visit with their grandchildren, Pete and Penny left to let you rest before Jake and Jaycee came.

"So, who is older?" Jaycee asked. You ask she rocked Andy in her arms. "Elle is by thirteen minutes." You told her. "She just couldn't wait to get into the world to meet her Uncle Jake, huh?" Jake cooed as he held Elle. You and Jaycee both knew he was already wrapped around her finger, which was fine because Andy had already stolen Jaycee's heart.

"We have a question." Bradley blurted out.

"What?" Jake and Jaycee asked in unison.

"We want to know if you two would be their godparents?" Bradley asked them.

"Of course!" They both cheered. "How could we say no to these two?!" Jaycee asked as she booped Andy's nose.

"Five bucks says they are expecting less than a year after they get married." You whispered to Bradley as you watched Jake and Jaycee interact with your children. "Twenty bucks says that it's a honeymoon baby." Bradley counters.

"You're on." You snort as the two of you shake.

Soon, the evening wears away, and it's just the four of you again. News of your labor and delivery has spread. There are also several stories with photos and videos of Bradley racing to the hospital on foot. The media is also dragging Gary Jackson after his comment at the debate. A few organizations who support Bradley are already pushing the tagline "Put Governor Jackson where he belongs, in the trash!" You want to be mad at Bradley for that comment, but it's just so funny that you can't.

...................

The twins are exactly a month old when you and Bradley release the first official photo of them.

It's a beautiful family portrait of you and Bradley each sitting in a rocking chair the nursery in the White House. Bradley is dressed in a collared shirt with a sweater pulled over it with some khaki pants and a new pair of loafers. You're in a warm sweater dress and a pair of leggings and some boots. The twins are dressing in matching onsies and caps with their names stitched on them. You're hold Elle, and Bradley is holding Andy.

The caption reads:" The President and First Lady are excited to share the first official photo of the newest additions to their family. Eleanora Carole Bradshaw and Andrew Nicholas Bradshaw arrived on Thursday, January 27th, 2028. President and Mrs. Bradshaw are overjoyed at the love and support the nation as shown them as they have been adjusting to parenthood."

Parenthood had certainly been an adjustment for the two of you. You both knew that you would have a lot to learn, but you'd learn it together.

......................

One chapter left, guys!

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[captainlunaxmen]

All for the cameras

Chapter 4

Finnick Odair x reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: a little about the making of the Games, the reaping, and the Parade.

Chapter warnings: talking of lethal threats, Cal has his own warning, Snow, forced marriage.

I take a huge gulp of wine as I sit in Plutarch's living room.

He did convince Snow to make me his personal assistant for this Quarter Quell, Plutarch told him it's a perfect way to show my "participation". Although I hate to keep up such a facade, I love that I can use it as an excuse to not stay, nor spend any time with Cal.

"Careful with that," Plutarch comes back into the room with his own glass, "we need you lucid for this."

"Trust me, I built a strong resistance to alcohol... no amount would help endure this shit anyway..." I mutter, looking at my fucking ring.

"You spent too much time with Abernathy, I'm afraid," he comments, he's not judging, no, he's probably just teasing.

"Or not enough," I tease back, he smirks amused by my answer.

He then suddenly turns the TV on, on display my answer to Cal's proposal.

I groan as I see that.

"I gotta say, that was smart," he compliments me, referring to the kiss.

"Could you turn it off? One fucking time was enough, thank you." I tell him.

"Not telling you about the Quartel Quell was smart too," he throws this out like nothing, my head snaps towards him.

"You little... that's why..." I start, but his proud stance stops me, "fine... smart thinking on your part too, okay."

"Thank you very much," he does a little bow before turning serious, "I'm sure now you can know more." He declares.

"Really?" I ask, I really want to know more and help, but at the same time I don't want to risk everyone.

"Yes, miss L/n. But... you have to know this, all this, will require a lot from you. From all of us, actually. So just know... you can still change your mind and no one will hold it against you." He explains, I can feel he is sincere, I know I can trust him.

I take a deep breath, this is a good chance to actually change things here... I won't pass this opportunity.

"Anything." I say and he smiles.

"Alright, our primarily goal is to get Katniss out." He starts and I nod, of course she would be the face of the revolution, "every Victor involved knows that,"

"Did you warn them? The ones involved?" I ask.

"Didn't have the chance... not everyone... I also need you to start thinking that not everyone will see this revolution starts." He says bitterly.

"I..." I don't know what to say, so I try to reason it, "yeah... of course... if not all of them know... the others would just want to survive, as always."

"Reasoning won't help you much this time," he says and he uses the remote to change the scene on the screen.

The reaping ceremony of each district.

"Cashmere and Gloss... God... they're brother and sister.."

"It never stopped the Capitol before. It just adds up to the drama." Plutarch sighs.

"I know," I sigh as the next district's reaping starts, "it may sounds cliché, but Enobaria is actually a sweet person... when you get past the teeth," I try to chuckle to ease my tension. Yeah... I might not see some of them after...

"Please tell me you were smart enough to recruit Beetee," I look at Plutarch who nods confidently.

"Oh..."

"This is where I wanted you," he says softly.

"Finnick... yeah... I... it makes sense..." I say as I see him walking up the stage.

"You need to..."

He doesn't have the time to finish his sentence before I let out a big gasp.

"Mags volunteered..." I whisper, "she... she can't... they can't... not them both... oh c'mon..."

"I'm sorry. When the time comes we will do our best to take everyone to safety, but..." he explains.

"But you can't control what happens in the arena..." I mutter, "not without raising suspects. I know."

I hear him sigh and walking closer to me, offering a comforting hand on my shoulder, I nod and we go on watching the reaping.

Johanna of course... I know she has all the skills to protect herself in there, but she's still my friend and I can't not worry. Especially knowing she has nothing left to lose.

Finally we get to 12 and of course Katniss, being the only living female victor, she's reaped.

Time for the male.

Haymitch's name is said, and for a split moment my heart breaks, but Peeta is quick to volunteer for him. I see Katniss shocked and terrified expression and I know she asked Haymitch to volunteer in his place if the roles were reverse.

"That was rigged... wasn't it?" I ask.

"Exactly, we need Haymitch here and..." he motion for me to go on.

"She needs Peeta there," I say earning a proud nod from him, "she just doesn't know it."

There's a moment of silence, where I take a second to recollect myself and take a sip of wine.

"Now," he claps his hands, "to make your participation more believable... you need to write down 2 ideas for the arena."

"What?" I ask, "I thought the arena was already decided."

"The arena yes... not the threats inside." He says.

"What do you mean?" I'm actually confused right now.

"This year arena is... quite special," he starts explaining, showing the concept on the screen, "it's divided in sections, like this, each section hosts a threat. Like these: acid fog, monkeys, this big wave... And so on."

"Acid fog? Isn't it a little too much?" I ask getting nervous for my friends.

"I told you it's gonna be hard," he gives me a sympathetic smile, "and we need your suggestions to be... authentic. It has to look like you're actually putting an effort."

I sigh, bouncing my leg.

I need to think of something that's horrifying, but safe at the same time.

They're all there... all my friends are there. The only family I've ever known since... I shake my head and drink more wine.

"Okay. Yeah... I get it." I nod, "when do you need it?"

"Tomorrow." He answers, "I have faith you can do it and... you can say you're busy working for me." He winks at me with a reassuring smile.

"That's the only good thing," I let out a humourless laugh and take one last gulp of wine before standing up. "Then I should get going. Thank you, Mr Heavensbee."

I walk towards the exit when Plutarch's voice stops me.

"One more thing," he calls and I turn my head, "even though you'll try and think of the least lethal threat... they might kill someone anyway. Keep that in mind."

I nod and walk out.

----------------

As I enter my apartment I instantly smell flowers... lots of them.

I look around and I see, probably, more than 10 bouquets of flowers.

"Oh god..." I sigh, defeated. I look at some of them, noticing most are from "admirers" congratulating me for my engagement.

But there are three that catch my eyes more than the others.

One, huge, bouquet is made by all sort of flowers, I don't think I've ever seen such variety of flowers in the first place. I look at the card... I groan, it's from Cal.

"My love, everyday I count the days that separate us from being finally together.

I can't wait for you to be mine.

Properly mine.

Enjoy your job, my sweetness, and happy Hunger Games!

Love,

Cal Kingslay. "

I throw the whole bouquet with the rest, and just look at the other. It's simple and small, my favourite flowers and a few seashells here and there, the thing holding the bouquet it's not paper... it's fish nets... Finnick. I unconsciously smile as I take the card.

"I wanT to congRatUlate you, my SweeT girl!

TheY tOld me the news jUst now! Miss L/n, You shouLd've tOld me, I've neVer beEn so happy!

Congratulations!

Dario."

He signs each letters, making it look like it was ink fallen from the pen... smart.

"I trust you, my love"

He even signed it with an anagram of his name. I let out a laugh at that and move to the last bouquet.

Even smaller then Finnick's, a few green leaves are like a frame for the one, white rose.

I shakily take the card in my hand.

"Congratulations on your engagement, my dear. I look forward to see what you'll come up with for our Games.

I'm sure one day you'll make a fine Gamemaker."

There's no sign, not that he needed to...

"Gamemaker... yeah... sure." I scoff.

I go to the kitchen to get myself some wine. As I'm about to pour a glass, I look at the bottle and just... take it all with me to my room.

I sit on the desk in my room and, as I take some gulps from the bottle, I try to come up with some ideas.

Plutarch mentioned a few potentially lethal threat already, I mean... acid fog, deadly monkeys, that I'm sure will be modified.

What to do, what to do...

Other animals maybe, but a non lethal one... something that creates a hassle, but not death.

Bugs?

I shake my head, no, they would make it poisonous no matter what my suggestion is.

Something else, something else.

Jabberjays. Yes!

I write down my idea and take the bottle to take a big gulp, but the bottle slips from my grasp and falls on the desk spilling the liquid all over the desk and the pavement.

"Shit!"

I manage to safe the paper I was writing on and I immediately go take a towel to wipe the wine off.

As I kneel down cleaning the liquid, I find myself staring at the little drops of wine falling from the desk to the floor.

The dark liquid looks a lot like... blood.

Blood rain.

-------------

I walk nervously behind Plutarch, he just told me Snow wanted to hear my ideas himself, so now, as I'm walking I clench my fists nervously.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" I ask him.

"He didn't ask me sooner," Plutarch answers as we finally stand out of Snow's office, "you wrote it?"

"Of course," I slightly scoff at his answer.

"Then take a deep breath and... show time," Plutarch smiles and knock on the door.

"Come in," Snow's voice gives us permission to enter.

"President," Plutarch greets him.

"Good morning, sir," I say, putting up the best 'diligent student' appearance.

"Good morning, Mr Heavensbee," he nods towards Plutarch and then turns to me, "and what a pleasure, miss L/n."

"You said you wanted to hear her ideas for the arena, right?" Plutarch starts.

"Oh, of course!" Snow's suddenly happy, as if he's about to hear a good story, "tell me, my dear girl, what did you think of?"

If it were a different universe this could've seemed a sweet exchange. The old "mentor" interested in his protégé ideas...

"When Plutarch showed me the arena and the already existing threats, I have to admit I was intrigued," I start and I see, from the corner of my eyes Plutarch smiling proudly, "but at the same time, I was a little bored." I say and that earned a surprised 'oh?' from Snow, "I mean... from those you either die or survive... so I thought of something more psychological."

"Oh, now that's interesting, my dear, please go on." Snow is pleased so far.

"I thought of a section of the arena where... uh..." I pretend to stutter for a second, to give him the impression that I'm nervous because I care for his opinion.

"Don't be shy, I'm open to all suggestions,"

"I thought of a blood rain... sir." I say.

I see him pondering the idea, then a smile creeps it's way on his face, it makes me sick.

"I like it," he finally says looking at Plutarch, "she's smart, isn't she?"

"Very smart, sir." Plutarch agrees.

"I'm even more curious to hear the other idea, please don't leave me hanging," Snow's 'sweet' tone almost freezes me to the spot, but I swallow hard and just ignore this feeling.

"Jabberjays." Is all I say.

He looks a little taken aback, and motion for me to elaborate.

"I thought about using Jabberjays that imitate the screams of people the tributes know." I say, pretending to feel unsure of my idea, "maybe create a sort of an invisible wall that prevents them from escaping if they finds the birds."

Snow looks at me, considering me for a moment, then he smiles, that sick smile once again.

"You were right in recruiting her, Mr Heavensbee. Good thinking, miss L/n, very good thinking." He compliments Plutarch and me.

"Thank you, sir." I smile.

"No, thank you," he says, "now, one more thing before I dismiss you."

I nod and stay put, even though I was ready to run, or better walk very fast, out of here.

"This role of assistant Gamemaker won't exonerate you from your duty to assist the mentors," he tells me.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir, I've always taken my role very seriously," I tell him, faking pride as I speak.

"I know, my dear." He smiles, almost as if he knows I wasn't exactly fond of it, "we were supposed to randomly assign you to one district, like every year, but we thought to just let you stick to 12. Apparently the Capitol's people loved your... friendship with the two victors." He says the word 'friendship' with a not so convinced tone, almost repulsed.

"Of course, sir." I nod my head, eager to just get out of here.

"But," he adds, probably keeping me longer to see when I'll crumble, I look briefly at Plutarch who keeps his confidence stance, "you'll be assisting all of the districts." I look at him confused and he continues, "I mean, you'll be present during the training sessions and will help."

"Oh, yes, sir, of course." I nod again.

"That's all." He claps his hands, satisfied, "the tributes arrive today so... better be there to welcome them home."

'Home'...

"I'm going right now, sir." I promptly tell him, he smiles and motions me to go and to Plutarch to stay.

"Send my regards to Cal Kingslay when you see him," I hear him say as I walk out, not bothering to answer him I just go straight to the tributes living centre.

--------------

I enter the building and see Haymitch, Effie, Katniss and Peeta arriving.

"Well, well, well, aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes?" I say once I'm close enough to pull Peeta into a hug.

"Oh! We got the Princess this year too, uh? The president is spoiling us," Haymitch jokes ans I roll my eyes as I hug Katniss.

"Rather spoiling me," I greet Effie too, in the perfect 'Capitol style', "lots of opportunities."

"I figured," Haymitch says wrapping his arms around me.

"Now," I say holding my arms open, theatrically, "let's take you to your apartments."

I start walking towards the elevator, heading to the attic, again.

------------

Once inside we start to have lunch, the atmosphere is quite tense before Effie breaks the silence.

"All right," she starts, clearing her throat, "before we begin, I've had a thought."

"You don't say?" Haymitch jokes, unimpressed.

"Be nice," I tell him, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

"Katniss has her gold Mockingjay pin. I have my hair. I'm going to get you three something gold." She declares, as if it were something obvious.

Haymitch looks at both me and Peeta, confused, before asking why.

"A token." Effie explains, "Show them we are a team. And they can't just..." she starts getting emotional and Katniss takes her hands.

"Thank you." She tells her, meaning it.

Effie might be too theatrical sometimes, but she's so much more than that, I'm grateful I got to know this side of her. I take her hand too.

"That's really sweet, Effie." I smile at her, "and... thank you for including me."

I notice both Peeta and Katniss sharing a look as if I said something unbelievable, but I ignore it.

Not the time.

"Now..." Effie composes herself, "everything will be different, because it's a Quarter Quell. The Capitol has spared no expense. A new training centre. New Tribute living quarters. And of course, a very special arena."

I tense at that, I took part in that...

"But this year you'll be facing other Victors." I step in, " all Capitol favourites. Smart, cunning, skilled... angry. And they all know one another. You two are the outsiders."

" I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the Games. Last year was child's play." Haymitch starts explaining, he's the best to mentor them about a Quarter Quell, "this year, you're dealing with all experienced killers."

"All right," Peeta speaks up, "what does it mean for us?"

"Allies." I tell him, "you'll be needing allies."

"Okay. I think that if..." Peeta's reply is quickly interrupted.

"You're not the problem." I say and, I don't have to say anything more, Haymitch is already pointing at Katniss.

"No." She sternly says.

"A little help, Haymitch?" I ask him.

"Look, you're starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years."

"That just puts us higher on their killing list." She replies, annoyed.

I roll my eyes, she needs to do her part.

"Do it your own way, but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down." Haymitch keeps explaining, patiently, "both of you."

"Katniss, come on," Peeta's sweet tone seems to convince her... a tiny bit.

She sighs deeply, which usually mean she's gonna listen, even though she doesn't agree.

"How could any of us even trust each other?" She then asks.

"It's not about trust. It's about staying alive," he states.

Peeta and Katniss look at each other and finally Katniss nod her head.

"Great!" I cheer, "time for some brainstorming, shall we?" And I stand up walking to the living room.

They soon follow and Haymitch turns the TV on, so they can see who the other Victors are, and who might seem like a good ally.

"Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister. District one. They one back-to-back Games. Capitol favourites. Lots of sponsors." He shows them the siblings.

"They will be lethal." I add and Haymitch nods, strongly agreeing.

"And the other half of the Career Pack, Brutus and Enobaria."

"What's with her teeth?" Of course, Katniss asks about the teeth.

"She... well... she had them filed into fangs..." I respond, "so she could... rip people's throat out better."

"She's committed. I'll give her that." Peeta comments, I can sense some tension in him... which is very understandable.

"Wiress and Beetee," Haymitch keeps on presenting the tributes, "not fighters, but brilliant."

"Very brilliant," I agree.

"And weird." He adds, earning a glare from me, "real texh-savvy. He won his Games by electrocuting six tributes at once." He changes the scene again, "the Morphlings. Masters of camouflage. Basically, won their Games by hiding until everyone was dead. Self-medicating ever since. Which I applaud. Not a threat."

We arrive at District 4 reaping.

"Finnick Odair, right?" Katniss asks.

Haymitch looks at me, silently telling me to explain this one myself, there's a hint of a smirk on his face that makes me roll my eyes for, what feels like, the millionth time today.

"Yep. The one and only." I starts, "he won his Games at 14. He's the youngest Victor ever... of course modesty is his peculiarity." I joke.

"You're kidding."

"Kinda," I chuckle, "he's very confident. Very. But... he's the Capitol's darling. They all love him here." Unfortunately, I want to add. "He's smart, he's skilled at combat, especially... especially in water."

"What about weaknesses?" Peeta asks, interested.

"Only one..." I sigh, deeply, "Mags. She... she volunteer for Annie. Mags was his mentor, the year that I was assigned to 4, she raised him, basically. He will try to protect her, even though it would expose him."

"A guy like that has to know she's not gonna make it," Katniss shakes her head, unconvinced, Haymitch looks at me knowingly, "I bet when it really comes down to it, he won't protect her."

I really want to hit her right now, but I know it's not her fault, she thinks this because it's what the Capitol wanted everyone else to think. That's what he had to pretend to be.

"Well... she's an amazing woman, Katniss, I... I just hope that... if... w-when she goes, she goes quickly." I stutter out. It took everything in me to say that... I want to hope we will rescue everyone before that happens... I really do.

I space out as Haymitch goes on explaining and introducing the other tributes.

I can feel his eyes on me every now and then, but I stopped pay attention minutes ago now.

Mags is the mother I never had... if there is one person who deserves to see a free Panem, it's her.

---------‐---

I was walking on the train heading to the restaurant car where I found an old lady sitting there, drinking a cup of tea.

"Hi..." I shyly said.

"Oh hello, dear." She greeted me with such a kind smile, I felt so much better and less nervous.

"I'm... I'm Y/n." I started to introduce myself, but her hand gently taking mine stopped me.

"I know, dear. I'm Mags." Another kind smile, "you're here to assist me, right?"

"Yeah." My hands were getting sweaty... I was so nervous.

"Hey, no need to worry about it. We can do it." She reassured me.

"I hope so..." I muttered under my breath.

She sighed and offer a seat to me, I took it and stared at the cups on the table.

"I watched you last year," her voice was soft as she spoke, "you were assigned to... what district?"

"5"

"But you were helping the little one from 11, right?" She asked.

I snapped my head to her, eyes wide open.

"Please, don't worry about it. I never told anyone." She assured me, handing me a warm cup, "I just meant that I saw you're not like the rest of them, my dear. You care."

"My tributes didn't want to listen, they were older than me and thought I was just a spy... which is understandable." I sadly kept my head low. "That boy from 11 was my age and... he was having trouble with some essential survival techniques."

"He got pretty far thanks to those." She tried to make me feel better.

"Not far enough," I bitterly replied.

"I'm sorry." I let her take my hand again, "it's not a consolation, I know, trust me, but... I have a feeling we can do it."

"They won't trust me," I told her, referring to the tributes from 4.

"Not at first... and most likely not the girl... but the boy, he seems to be more open to suggestions." She explained.

"I'm not sure he would accept suggestions from me."

"He's a smart one. Same age as you. Just be yourself and he will trust you." She smiled.

I considered her for a moment before nodding. Hope growing a little more.

The door of the car opening had my head turning immediately.

"My dear Y/n," Mags stood up and walked towards the boy entering, "this is Finnick Odair. Finnick, this is Y/n."

--------------

"Are you okay?" Haymitch's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Uh? Yeah... yeah, sorry, I zoned out." I apologise.

"I noticed." He sits with me.

"Where are they?" I ask, noticing no one else was in sight.

"Getting ready for the parade." He answers.

"Right... I better get going too. I have to check everyone is ready..." I tiredly sigh as I stand up, but Haymitch softly pulls me back down.

"If you take a few minutes it won't be a tragedy." He tells me, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing... I just started to think about Mags." I whisper, afraid someone might hear.

"Plutarch gave you the speech?" He asks and I nod, "I'm really sorry, Y/n."

"It's okay... I mean, it's not, but I think it was inevitable... she would've never let anyone else go, not if she had any say in it." I tell him, "she's strong." I see him starting to speak but I beat him to it, "I know better than to keep my hopes up, trust me, I know."

He just sighs and wrap one reassuring arms around my shoulder.

"I really better get going now, gotta check on those outfits." I stand up.

"You do that, sweetheart." Haymitch smiles at me and I walk to the elevator.

--------------

I walk out of the elevator heading to where the parade is about to begin and I instantly loom for someone.

I spot immediately Peeta talking to Cinna, who's probably refining last minutes details.

"Hello." I greet once I'm close enough, Cinna turns around giving me a small smile and a hug. "You look good, mr Mellark."

"Only with his help it's possible." Peeta, humble as usual, replies pointing at Cinna.

"I'm not a magician, I can make people look good if they're worthy." Cinna shakes his head, waving off the compliment.

"I couldn't agree more." I sigh, "so, are you lot ready? Where's Katniss?"

"She's should be here soon, her dress is a little more complicated than Peeta's." Cinna answers, "and, since you're here, I was thinking about them not doing anything out there."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, no waving, no smiling, nothing of sort. Act like they're above them. What do you think?" He explains, genuinely interested in my opinion.

"I think it's perfect." I smile and he return it.

"Oh, there she is." Peeta points behind us, I turn seeing Katniss talking to Finnick, who's a lot close. I hope he's not putting up his flirting persona, I don't think Katniss would trust him so easily then.

Peeta excuses himself to join her, just as Finnick walks away... spotting me.

"Snow asked..." Cinna gently nudges my arm and lowers his voice, "or better, ordered me to make her wear a wedding dress for the interview."

"Of course..." I roll my eyes. "You good with that?

"Oh yeah...I got a great idea for it." He says, I look into his eyes seeing determination so I don't ask more questions.

"Better get them ready to go, it's almost time." I tell him.

Cinna walks to Katniss and Peeta and I turn to check if someone else needs a hand with something or needs advice, unlikely, but never say never.

I see Mags petting a horse so I decide to go to her.

As soon as she sees me her smile grows ten times, warming my heart.

"You look very beautiful," I tell her, once we're close enough I hug her, "I'm so sorry." I whisper into her ear.

She pulls away gently, looking at me with that kind smile that always makes me feel better. She caresses my cheek with her hand, reassuringly, nodding her head to tell me that it's alright.

I nod too, taking a deep breath.

"Do you think I look presentable?" A very familiar voice says from behind me.

I look at Mags, rolling my eyes, glad I made her laugh a little.

I turn around, fully admir... noticing his naked chest and the golden fish net tied at his... oh shit.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart." He smirks and I just turn my head away, shaking it as I try to pull myself together.

"Did your stylists finished the fabric?" I finally say, "I could've ordered some, if they told me."

"Of course," he smiles and walk closer to me, leaning down to whisper into my ear, "just between us... I'm wearing it just for you."

My head snaps to him, our faces mere inches apart. I notice his eyes looking down to my lips, I instantly put some distance walking up to district 3.

"And here I thought you would never come to say hi," Beetee waves.

"Did you lose all hope in me? And here I thought you were the smart one." I tease back.

"It's a pity seeing each other here, under these circumstances." Wiress shakes my hand.

"I know. I wish it were different..." I look down, sad and ashamed too, Beetee softly touches my arm. I look up at him noticing him mouthing something on the line of 'it's gonna be fine' so I smile at him. "Well, don't you two look great?"

I compliment them, just before the announcer warned us of the beginning.

I wave them goodbye for now and head back, watching every district ride out there.

When it's Finnick's turn he turns to me and winks at me, earning a big eye roll. When it's finally District 12 turn as they pass by I nod my head, encouraging them. I see them looking st each other and straighten their back proudly.

I walk towards the end of the parade, where they should get off the chariots and head back to the elevators, and I wait.

I look at them in the distance, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.

All of a sudden I feel someone watching me from behind.

"You did a pretty good job, my sweetness." His voice makes me wince.

I turn around, showing the usual fake smile I show to everyone in the Capitol, pretending to be happy to see him.

"Cal... hi." I say, holding back from walking away as he nears, "what are you doing here?"

"I missed you. I didn't scare you, didn't I?" He says with a smile, that clearly shows he's proud he did.

"Of course, not. I was just thinking." I tell him sweetly.

"What about?" He ask, curious.

"Well, I have a lot to do these days and when they're back I'll have to make sure everything is organised." I tell him. "And also, taking part in the making of the Games... Plutarch asked me to write down some ideas."

This is probably the only time I'm glad I have this job, if I didn't, Cal would've kept me basically locked up, in his apartment. 'All to himself'... the thought makes me shiver.

"Would you share them with me?" He whispers.

"I can't ruin the fun, can I?" I say back.

"Aahh... you're killing me, babe." He shakes his head chuckling.

If only...

"No special treatment, Cal." I smile, feeling uneasy from the way he's looking at me.

In that moment, thankfully, I hear the parade is ending, which means everybody is about to get back.

"Such a diligent girl." He moves his hand to take mine. I let out a nervous laugh and a 'thanks', and finally, one district at a time, they're back.

I lock eyes with some of the Tributes, who noticing Cal with me, tense and give me sympathetic smile.

Then Finnick's back.

As soon as he sees me, he can't keep up the fake smile and his expression darkens.

"Well... I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I'll see you." I say, starting to turn around, but his hand grabs my arm. Rather harshly, which makes my eyes widen at that.

"We hardly see each other these days... I miss you." He looms over me, a dark look in his eyes.

"Well... uh..." I clear my throat, looking at the tributes still arriving, "I have a job to.. to do."

I see Mags and Finnick, she has a hand on his arm, to stop him from coming here.

"Good thing that when we're married you won't need to work, then." He tells me directly into my ear, "I would be able to have you any day I want."

"Wouldn't that be a dream..?" I choke out, my throat tightens. I still look at Finnick, more to check he doesn't intervenes than anything.

"There you are!" We both look at the source of the sound, Johanna.

I let out a sigh of relief as she walks closer.

"I was looking for you." She says, "they told me to ask you for the schedule."

"Yes... yes! I got it." I tell her.

Johanna pretends to notice Cal just now and extends her hand towards him.

"Oh hey there! You must be the lucky one, uh?" Johanna greets him.

Cal looks at her sceptically before shaking her hand.

"Yes, that's me."

"So nice to finally meet you, she talks about you all the time!" Johanna's (fake) cheery personality and flattery seem to work on Cal, who smiles smugly, "you don't mind if I steal her, do you?"

Before Cal could answer, she pulls me to her linking arms and walks away.

"God, he looks so annoying." She groans.

"He is... he is." I sigh, relieved.

"I thought about stepping in before Finnick over there could rip his eyes out," she teases. "So... how are the lovebirds?"

"They're completely in love." I tell her, she nods smiling knowingly.

I spot them talking with district 11 tributes, I wave at Haymitch, letting him know I'll be up in a second.

"Ugh... he still looking this way," Johanna complains getting in front of me, "is he always like this?"

"Even worse." I roll my eyes.

"Alright," she take the end of her dress in her hands showing it to me, "Plutarch told me."

I understand now what she's doing with her dress, she's pretending to show it to me, so it looks like we're talking about the dress.

"I know," I say touching the fabric, pretending to check it out, "you're sure about doing this?"

"Of course I am," she now turns to 'make me see her back', "never been more sure."

"I'm just sorry," I tell her, motioning for her to turn back around.

"No need too," she smiles, an emotionless smile, "oh he's gone.. finally."

"Thanks for saving me," I tell her.

"Anytime," she says, she turns her head towards the elevator, "well... I'll go introduce myself."

"Be nice." I tell her, she winks at me and walks away to the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch.

I go over the last details, seeing the horses are attended to, the chariots are about to be put away, everything seems fine.

I then walk to the elevator myself, I lean against the elevator's wall as soon as I enter.

Before the doors can close, someone rushes in, I look up finding myself face to face with Finnick.

Being in a confined space with a shirtless Finnick is...

"Hi, my love."

Shit.

#the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fic #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader

[swissboyhisch]

Cupid Cousin

A/N: I didn't reread this after I finished. Pretty sure it all good but it's late for me so I couldn't be bothered. But yay for this being my first imagine written in years!!!

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: First game against his old team for your cousin. Luckily some of his ex teammates are cute.

Word Count: 1161

Warnings: None I think. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

You hadn’t seen Taylor in god knows how long. After his trade, it was a struggle being in Newark by yourself. You had moved for college and your cousin was more than happy to have you living closer. But now he had left, you were alone once more. It was only a matter of weeks between you settling into your apartment to the news of Taylor being traded to Boston.

Taylor has his first game against his old team and of course, he wanted you at the Prudential to watch. As much as you loved your cousin, you weren’t a fan of the Bruins. So instead, you dawned your Devils’ Hall jersey. A simple pair of jeans with a hoodie underneath was all you needed. You got there just as the doors opened, two hours before the game. Taylor being Taylor had gotten a glass ticket next to the Devils’ bench.

Boston skated out to do their warmups in front of where you sat. Taylor was quick to spot you, having memorised your seat number. It had been too long since you both had seen each other. He slammed on the glass in front of you. A laugh and wave was exchanged before he noticed one of his favourite ex-teammates skating over to greet him. Nico Hischier and Taylor were close during his time on the Devils. 

Taylor lit up at the sight of Nico skating closer. Both hugged and shared some words. Taylor pointed to you and said a couple words to Nico. The Swiss boy smiled and waved at you. You waved back to him, I mean he was cute, who could deny that. 

As you waited for the stars to be announced, you got a message from Taylor to find a worker in the club section and ask them to take you to the visitors locker room. You had no clue where you were going. The Prudential was a new place for you. The only reason you knew where the club section was because you had come through that to find your seat. 

“Uh, excuse me?” 

The worker turned to you and smiled. “How can I help you?”

“Um, Taylor Hall told me to find a worker to take me to the visitors' change rooms. That's literally all he told me.” You showed her the message then pulled out your ID. Luckily you two shared the last same last name. “I’m sorry, I know it’s weird. I just… It’s all he just told me.”

“Just give me a moment,” The woman apologised. 

You just nod, looking around the bar while she went off to do what she needed. Fans were hanging around having a drink before they went home. She came back with another younger woman who smiled. The new woman looked to be a part of Boston’s crew.

“I was told…”

“Not a problem love, Hall wanted me to take you down, that’s all.”

The walk down to the visitor’s locker wasn’t long, surprisingly. Despite how big the arena actually seemed. She left you standing outside of a locker room, awkwardly by yourself, alone in the corridor. Every now and then a worker would walk by but you stood there scrolling through your phone. 

“Waiting for Hallsy?” A voice spoke up, making you jump.

Coming towards you was Nico Hischier, dressed back in his game day suit. Looking mighty fine. You smile and nod. “Yeah, I think we’re going to dinner. All he said was to meet him down here.”

“Hallsy said we’re going to this diner we were regulars at. It has great burgers.” Nico then smiled bashfully, “I’m Nico by the way.”

You giggle at his words and reply with your name. “It’s nice to meet you. Taylor has told me about you.”

The pair of you chat quietly waiting for Taylor to come out. And surprisingly, he was one of the last of the team to exit. Players like Marchand and Bergeron walked by, giving the pair a point glare. Whether it was you or the fact Nico, star of the New Jersey Devils, was standing beside you.

“Taylor mentioned you are going to college out here,” Nico started.

“Yeah, studying media.” You pull up some of your work for the college’s sports team. “I put in my application here when Tay was still on the team. Got accepted and just after I moved, bam the team traded him.”

“That sucks.”

You shrugged, “Not a lot he could do. He had to be on the next flight to Arizona. Then traded to Boston not long after that.”

“Do you have many friends at school?” The brunette questioned.

“Kinda,” you replied. 

The door opening once more pulled the pair of you from your conversation. Charlie McAvoy was one of the few people you had met through your many calls with Taylor. You shared a smile and wave.

“Hallsy, your cousin is out here with Hischier,” McAvoy called back into the change room after he exited. 

Taylor was quick to exit after that. The three of you made your way to Nico’s car and to downtown Newark. You guys were quick to settle into a corner booth. Privacy for the boys mainly. You took the window seat with Taylor across from you. 

“In you go,” Taylor smirked at his old teammate, nodding at the seat beside you.

Nico slid into the booth beside you, taking the menu from your hand. “Thank you.”

The three of you ordered your meals and caught up with each other. You asked how Boston was, despite not liking the city. Nico talked about how the team was going and having a new roommate, the young Jack Hughes. Taylor asked you about your life, making sure you were okay being in the city by yourself. By the end of the night, Nico had offered to drive you back to your apartment. That was after dumping Taylor at his hotel with the team. 

“If you need anything, you can always just hit me up,” Nico offered as he pulled into the apartment car park. “I don’t do much other than train and do anything hockey. Would be nice to have a friend outside of hockey.”

“Sounds like a date then,” You smirk. 

You held out your phone, allowing him to insert his phone number. He made sure to text himself from his phone to make sure he had your number as well. He wasn’t going to fuck up this chance. Especially after the speech Hallsy had given him whilst you were in the toilet at the diner. He wasn’t going to risk anything.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime you need,” Nico responded.

You laugh, “Says the guy who travels a lot.”

“Not the greatest I know, but I’ll try my best.”

You blushed at his words. Instead of replying you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Without saying another word, only giving him a smile, you exited the car.

A message came through later that night as you were laying in bed.

Hallsy: You're welcome ;)

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings @jayrami3

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl rpf #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #New jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils imagines #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fanfiction #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils blurb #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier rpf #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fanfiction

[captain-mj]

I bring you the bones of my friends that are uneducated on lgbtq+ matters for

PrinceGraves x leader of Royal guard Price

Graves is ruling temporarily while the King is away on diplomatic matters and he drives the court insane. He's cocky, talks over advisors and thinks he can doe everything better.

After 3 days Price is so fed up with the spoiled Prince so he fucks him on the throne and tell him to behave.

Here ya go!! Btw, in case it's not explicit enough, Graves is very capable, he was just playing Price to get a reaction. It's not really paid much attention, we all know why we're here

Price watched the Prince speak and tried not to chew his own sword.

The worst part was Graves had good points occasionally, but he didn't listen and he always questioned everything. He didn't trust any of them and made that clear.

Price bit his tongue as Graves once again questioned one of the King's most trusted advisor.

"How are you sure of this? Where are your sources?" Graves looked right at Price as he spoke, a small grin on his face. He had asked that four times. In this meeting.

"Are you sure we should do that? I heard that those are flimsy..."

Price got up and left, going to the throne room. God that little brat pissed him off. As the leader of the royal guard, he knew he needed to keep on good terms with him. One day, Graves could be his boss.

God, he hoped not.

Price took off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. Didn't help that he was so hot. Walking around barely dressed most of the time. Wearing sheer clothing and letting everyone just drool over him. When his father was here, he never acted like this!! What was his deal?

"John." Graves interrupted his thoughts. He only had some loose pants and his crown on. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, your majesty." Price glared at him but Graves did not seem moved.

After a few minutes, Graves tilted his head. "You know, it's polite to ask someone how they're doing back. I know you're a Captain, but that's not an excuse for bad manners."

Price gritted his teeth before drawing his sword and put it to his throat. He didn't have words. Three fucking days of this.

Graves blushed and looked up at him. "John. Remember your place. Kill me and the King will have your head. Relationship or not."

Price got closer. "I wouldn't kill you, Graves."

Graves looked intrigued. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Make you shut up." Price threw the sword to the side and grabbed him, placing him on his back on the throne. He pulled down his pants.

"Wait! The doors!!"

"Let them walk in." Price snapped at him. "Maybe it'll teach you manners. Get too loud and someone will come in."

Graves blushed and looked away, grabbing the throne. "Fine. I give you permission."

Price shoved Graves's knees to his chest and shoved a finger into his hole roughly. He spit onto his finger and shoved it in deeper. Graves started to thrash and eventually tapped him insistently. "Wait, there's oil. Please you're being too rough with me!"

Price grumbled, but he did it. He wanted to hurt the Prince but... not that bad. Tearing him seemed excessive.

Now that he had the oil, he forced his fingers back in, watching Graves tense to try to stop himself from moving. He groaned as Price slid a second one in, making him pant softly as he tried to keep quiet.

"Can't get through one meeting without you complaining about how long its taking or how many people are there or how you want to be doing anything else." He thrust his fingers in hard over and over again, needing him well stretched.

Graves whimpered and twisted, clearly not used to such rough treatment. "What else?"

Price frowned and got a third one in, groaning at how tight the fit was. "What else what?"

"What else do I do wrong?" He pushed back against him, biting his lip. His face twisted in pleasure and pain.

"You keep questioning me! I'm the Captain of the Royal Guard for a reason! You're such a royal brat." Price forced another finger in him and Graves's back arched.

"I'm sorry, sir." Graves panted out, putting his hands under his knees so Price didn't have to keep holding him. He threw his head back and rocked against him desperately. "So good, please."

"Shut up." Price forced his fingers in deeper. "So tight. So fucking tight. Shit."

Graves closed his eyes and looked away. Once Price was sure he was open enough, he picked Graves up. He then put him on the floor and sat in the throne himself, the great crowned prince looking up at him from his knees.

Price buried his hand in Graves's hair and pulled him to his cock, watching Graves's eyes widen. He tilted his head before running his tongues along one of the veins, grinning when Price groaned.

"Good boy. Finally putting that mouth of yours to good use."

Graves went to retort and Price yanked him down on his cock, making him gag. He held him there for a moment, feeling his cock convulse around him for a moment before letting go so Graves could pull back. He took a deep breath and then immediately went back down on him, swallowing. Price groaned and relaxed, letting Graves work on him.

"You seem happier on your knees. Like you wanted me to do this."

Graves looked up at him through his lashes, swallowing hard.

"You fucking brat." Price yanked him closer, making his eyes fill with tears. He swallowed and used his tongue, clearly trying to please him. "You're not going to be able to walk until the fucking King comes back."

Graves hummed in response and bobbed his head enthusiastically. Price pulled him off and he made a wounded noise.

"Yeah, Yeah. Get up here."

Graves did as told, grabbing Price's shoulders as he picked him up. He slid him down on his cock and enjoyed the little whimpers it got. One of his hands fit around Graves's throat and the other around his waist. He thrust up into Graves, watching his eyes roll back.

Price enjoyed him like a toy. Graves scrambled for a hold as he was slammed into mercilessly, hiding his face out of shame.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Price turned him around so he couldn't, hands going under his knees to keep his legs spread apart. If anyone came in, they'd see Graves's face and the way his body took Price like a whore.

"Sir, please."

"Your voice is pretty when you're begging." He moved Graves instead of himself, making him bounce up and down. The new angle must've felt nice because he was a mess in Price's arms, tears streaming down his face.

Graves twisted his head to kiss his cheek. "So mean to me."

Price growled. "You like it."

Graves blushed and shuddered. "I like when you growl."

Price yanked him closer and kissed him, hammering into him now. Graves grasped him as hard as he could and Price could feel his legs shaking.

"Don't finish until I do."

"You fucking bastard." Graves huffed. "Hard to do that when you're fucking me like this."

"Try harder." Price smiled and forced his legs further apart.

Graves held on to him, painfully hard. He was clearly trying his hardest though and Price could appreciate that.

Price reached around and stroked him, feeling him tremble. "No, please, I won't last." He kept stroking Graves anyway.

Graves did not last. He came all over himself with a groan and his head fell back. He panted softly as Price fucked him through it. Price came in him and patted his thigh.

Slowly, he pulled out of him and set his Prince on the throne. "You look gorgeous." He didn't fix his pants, but he did fix his crown, looking at the cum running down his legs. "Act right in the next couple of meetings and I'll do this again."

"Don't you mean don't do this again?"

"Darling, we both know you wanted this."

Graves bit his lip. "Alright, yes sir."

#cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price

[juliettesgotagun]

The Witch King.

Summary: The witch king has chosen you to join him, and tonight, you’ll answer his call.

Pairing: Demon!Jamie x Catholic!Reader

Warnings: Smut/ Fem!Reader/ PinV sex/ Oral sex f!recieving/ breeding kink/ praise kink/ Virgin!reader.

The voices never seem to quiet. It was calling you again.

You had tried everything. You had prayed and prayed and prayed, but it was no use. You had clutched onto your crucifix every night like it was your lifeline. Yet in the very early hours of each morning, came the familiar feeling of his hand on your cheek.

He had told you he was the King of Witches, and it was time for you to join him.

You had sobbed and told him no. You had said you’d rather him kill you. In fact, you begged him to, but kill you, he did not.

He continues to call you, deep into the woods is where he wants to lead you.

You had attended church everyday, and begged your priest to save you.

And save you he did, or so he claimed, but still, eyes of cerulean blue haunt you.

You had done everything you were supposed to. You had attended church every day. You had prayed. You had been perfect.

Maybe that’s why he wanted you. To corrupt a perfect, pure soul.

The more you saw him. The more you began to doubt whether God was real. What if he was all there was?

He seemed to give purpose to your bleak lifestyle. A part of you felt special to have been chosen.

Maybe your life had a deeper meaning.

Maybe you didn’t have to just submit to your husband and worship a god not brave enough to show his face to you. To answer your prayer.

Yes, Yes. You had made up your mind.

When he came for you tonight, You would answer his call.

You had sat in front of your mirror, brushing your hair ever so daintily.

Your clothes had been discarded on the floor. You needed them no longer.

You had attended church for the last time, and look the priest in the eye and lied to him.

They’ll believe anything if it’s what they wanted to hear.

You had said goodnight to your father, hugged your mother, and kissed your little brother on the head for the last time.

You picked up the crucifix on your vanity, and threw it to the ground. When you stood, preparing to go to bed, You crushed it beneath your heel.

You buried yourself beneath the covers, and blew out the candles to go to sleep.

The wind from your open window howled, and your eyes shot open. You hadn’t need to look around to know he was there, you could feel his presence.

The moonlight cast a heavenly glow onto his features. Icy blue eyes sparkling as he watched you.

“I am ready, My lord.” You spoke.

This seemed to please him, a hint of a smile painted his face.

“I knew you would be.” He stalked closer to you, his hand lifting your chin to look up at him.

You drank him in. The moon seemingly forming a halo around his head, and his eyes pierced your very soul.

His blonde hair fell to his jaw, it was messy, but seemed to frame his face perfectly.

You wonder what being had graced him with such angular features. You could get lost him.

“You’ll give all of yourself to me now.” It wasn’t a question. A direction. This was how it begins.

You nodded, throwing off the covers, and standing before him, completely exposed, but any shyness in you had diminished. He was your king now. You had no reason to be shy. He owned you. You are his.

He said nothing as his eyes trailed up and down your body, tilting his head.

“Does this please you, My lord?”

A devilish smirk played at his lips. “Oh yes. Very much so.”

He brought his hand to your chest, caressing your cleavage.

You moved not.

He finally moved his hand, a large palm cupping your entire breast.

He bit his lip as he squeezed, and you discovered that you now had to bite yours.

His eyes flickered back up to yours, and he smiled once again.

“Lie down.” He ordered.

You did not hesitate, Lying back on your pathetic excuse for a bed.

He approached you in a very predatory fashion., pushing a part your legs with his hands.

He knelt in between them, a single digit lightly dragged over your slit.

Your face contorted in pleasure. He seemed to take note of this.

He tilted his head once more, before leaning down, and gently flicking your clit with his tongue.

Your back arched, and he gently pushed your hips back down into the mattress.

His arms hooked around your thighs, spreading them open as he began to lap at your clit.

You squirmed and squirmed, but he didn’t seem to mind, simply holding you in place as he continued his work.

A whine fell from your lips as he pulled away., sitting up and staring at your glistening folds. His hand returned to your slit, fingers began to circle your hole.

In a trance like state, he inserted the tip of one inside of you, immediately met by resistance from your virgin cunt.

He remained in this trance as he slowly pushed the entire digit inside of you.

You grimaced at the pain, however the pain was accompanied by pleasure, which caused your face to contort into a much different expression.

He did not move his finger, He had simply watched it disappear inside of you, and was now staring at the way it looked, buried deep inside of you.

“Please.” You whined.

His eyes slowly met yours, and for a moment, you feared you had upset him. He instead nodded slowly, and leaned back down, removing his finger from inside you. He hooked his arm back around your thighs.

His tongue circled your hole, and your thighs began to shake. You finally felt his tongue slip inside of you, causing soft whimpers to pass from your lips as the hot muscle probed inside of you.

Your eyes had squeezed shut, and he snapped at you. Your eye shot open and he pointed at his eyes, as if to say “Eyes on me.”

You squirmed, and your thighs shook as his tongue continued to move in and out of you. A blush painted your cheeks at the intense eye contact. The way he looked, tongue inside of you, eyes staring into yours, was…so incredibly hot. It made you leak even more juices.

You felt your cunt begin to pulse around his tongue, and a weird feeling crept up in your core.

Your whines began to get louder. You were confused. What was happening?

He kept eye contact with you, and the feeling in your core began to intensify., it felt like you were about to sneeze.

He slowly nodded from in between your thighs, giving you permission to do what ever was about to happen.

Your cunt squeezed his tongue tightly as you saw stars, back arching into the sky, crying out loudly. Sweat coated your forehead as juices poured out of you.

“What was- What did I-“ He shushed you, and you were completely out of breath. He licked the liquid from off his lips, standing and placing a hand on your cheek.

“Something only I can give you.”

You breathlessly nodded, and he began to remove his trousers.

“Your induction is about to be complete.” He smiled. “You’re about to be mine.”

He removed his trousers , and his hard cock sprung out of them. It was quite large, and had a thickness about the size of your wrist. It was red and angry looking, leaking an unfamiliar white liquid.

He climbed on top of you and caressed your cheek.

“Now, Darling. I’m about to put my cock inside of your virgin cunt. It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to need you take all of me, Okay, Sweetheart? It’s the only way that you can be mine. Can you do that? Can you be my good girl and do that for me?”

You nodded slowly, and he kissed your forehead.

His eyes trailed down as his hand guided his cock to your hole, inserting the tip of it inside of you, letting out a groan.

Pain stung at your lower regions, your chest heaving up and down as you bit down on your lip.

His forehead pressed against yours, and he continued to press further inside of you.

You let out a pain filled whine, and his hand caressed your cheek.

“Shhhh Shhh, Pretty girl. You’re doing so well for me.”

He continued to inch inside of you, and the more and more he pushed in, the less it began to hurt.

Until finally, after what felt like an hour, he finally bottomed out, and your cunt couldn’t help but clench around his unmoving, throbbing cock.

“That’s it, Princess. Clench around me. Such a Good girl.”

He slowly began to move inside of you, and your eyes squeezed shut. Whimpers began to fall from your lips, but as time went on, then went from being whimpers from pain, to from pleasure.

This feeling that he had awakened inside of you, was unlike any other. You were practically feral.

Soon enough, he had began to make you feel such ecstasy, you couldn’t take it, whining and thrashing around in pleasure. It felt too good, It was too much.

“It’s t-too much!” You cried.

His lips captured yours in a kiss. “It’s alright, Sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can. Be a good girl for me.”

He continued to pound inside of you. His hair messy and sweat glistening on his forehead.

Your eyes trailed down, and your lips parted in awe as you watched his cock disappear inside of you.

He let out a low chuckle when he noticed. “Do you like looking at that? Do you like seeing my cock inside of you? Well don’t worry, baby. This won’t be the last time.”

The same feeling from before crept up in your core, and you whined out.

“It’s happening again!” You cried out as your cunt began to pulse.

He nodded. “I know, baby. I know me too.”

Him too? What did he mean?

He trailed his hand down between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

Your whole body contorted and squirmed, as the pressure in your stomach increased.

“Do it, sweet girl. Cum for me.”

You cried out loudly, as your walls clamped down hard around him, juices spilling out of you and all over his cock.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, as his trusts became sloppier and sloppier.

“Fuck, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna claim you, baby. You’re gonna be all mine. I’m gonna fill your tummy with me, yeah?” He said, breathlessly, before pushing deep inside of you one last time, filling you completely. You cried out one last time.

Two pairs of footsteps barreled towards your door. Your parents had heard you cry out, trying their best to pry open the bedroom door.

By time they finally got it, the door swung open to reveal no one inside. The wind blowing through the room, window wide open.

Your mother knelt down, picking up the broken crucifix on the ground, crying out at the realization that came with it.

That Lucifer, himself, had their precious daughter in his clutches.

#jamie campbell bower #if jamie sees this im sorry j man #jamie please be the gothic husband to my coquette wife #jamie please marry me #jamie bower #jamie cambell bower x reader #jamie bower x reader #stranger things 4 #jamie cambell bower smut #jamie bower smut #001 x reader #001 smut #henry creel smut #peter ballard smut #henry creel x reader #jamie bower x you #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x you #henry creel x you #vecna #st vecna #st 4 #vecnussy #vecna smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #eddie muson #jamie cambell bower fanfiction #joe kerry

[softspeirs]

Okay, this is going to be a bit of a long shot, but how about 'hands' and 'rescue' for Grace Fleming - and Helen, our Clubmobile girl! (Something something...shared grief?)

A/N: Ooh, thanks Merc! Loved an excuse to get these two ladies together.

It’s Tatty who first comes to the infirmary, her steps unsure and her eyes a little tired, a little sad.

Grace is busy folding blankets and towels, and greets her with a breezy hello, her eyes flitting between Tatty’s troubled face and her hands that are clenched at her side.

“Lieutenant,” she says, a tiny smile appearing on her lips. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“Hey, Tatty.” Grace is a little surprised at herself for feeling shy. It’s almost like realizing the popular girl at school wants to talk to her. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you—“ she takes a step closer, lowers her voice. “Would you mind talking to Helen? Casually, if you don’t mind.”

Grace puts down the blanket in her hands. “Is she okay?”

Tatty nods. “I think so. Just— she got to know this pilot at the party the night before last… between you and me, she barely got more than a few hours of sleep, they were out dancing so late.”

Grace’s heart sinks. “Oh, Tatty… did he—“

“He was with the new crew. Rosenthal’s. He didn’t make it.”

.

Grace finds Helen in the Clubmobile, like she suspected she would. Helen isn’t the type to shirk her duties, no matter how she’s feeling.

“Morning!” Helen says brightly. Grace doesn’t miss the way her hands shake slightly as she gathers herself. “It’ll be a few minutes for donuts but I can get you some coffee while you wait.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

The cup is steaming when it comes out, and Grace inhales. “God, but that smells good.”

“Coffee in the morning always does.”

They stand in companionable silence for a few minutes before Grace decides she better just ask. “How are you doing, Helen?”

The smile on her face doesn’t go away, but freezes in place. “I’m okay.”

Grace nods. Looks at the bags under Helen’s eyes and the way her movements seem automatic, robotic. She knows combat fatigue. There isn’t a snappy name for this type of grief, though. The type where you know someone for barely a day, and yet their loss hits you like a freight train.

It’s a unique part of living on an air base, and Grace doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it.

“You need a day off?” Grace asks quietly. “No shame in it. I can talk to whoever I need to-“

“No.” Helen’s voice is firm, but still pleasant. “I’m okay. I want to keep working. It’s— it’ll help.”

Grace nods. She doesn’t want to overstep. She also knows that everyone on this base, especially these women who have such a vital role to play, are far more resilient than people give them credit for.

They’re interrupted by the still-half-asleep figures of Captain Rosenthal and Lieutenant Lewis.

“Ma’am,” Rosenthal greets her, and she watches as he struggles to make eye contact with Helen.

“Morning Helen,” Lewis says, either not feeling as shy as his friend, or determined to lighten the mood. “Coffee would be great.”

“You got it,” she says. Grace is pleased to see Helen’s hands aren’t shaking anymore when she gathers the cups and gets to work.

.

It’s over a year later and Grace almost wants to laugh when their roles are reversed. She can’t bring herself to even smile when she sees the woman approaching.

“Grace?”

Grace’s hands start to shake at the care and tenderness in her friend’s voice. She cannot allow herself to break down. If she does, she won’t be able to make it the rest of her shift, and too much time alone with her thoughts is no good.

“Grace.” Helen’s hand finds hers. Stops her relentless folding and moving and fidgeting. “Hey. Slow down.”

“Funny that you need to come to my rescue now, huh.”

Helen shakes her head. “You don’t need anyone to rescue you.” She ducks her head so she can meet Grace’s eyes. “He’s alive, Grace. I know it.”

Grace shakes her head. “How can you be so sure?” Tears spring to her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. “He’s been so lucky so far…”

“It’s not luck. He’s the best pilot we’ve got. I don’t know where he is, but he’s going to come back.”

Grace sniffs. “It’s just— this one feels harder. It feels harder to believe he’s going to keep coming back.”

“Couldn’t keep Major Rosenthal away from you for too long, Grace.” Helen jokes softly, jostling Grace with her shoulder. “He’s probably hassling some General to get him back here to you.”

Grace takes a minute to just sit there, shoulder to shoulder with a woman who has become one of her dearest friends, their hands tightly clasped together.

“I hope you’re right.” Grace says finally. “Thank you, Helen.”

The two women sit there together for a long time, minds filled with the men they’ve watched come and go, ones they laughed with and loved, and ones they didn’t even get a chance to know. This is the hardest work either of them have ever done, but it’s made easier knowing they’ll be there to rescue each other every time, no matter what.

#my own feelings got the best of me here merc #i loved writing for helen #i wanted to know so much more about her #thank you for asking about grace! #softspeirs mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #oc: grace fleming

[bi-bard]

Against the Current Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Jason Todd - Jason Todd Imagine [Titans]

Title: Against the Current Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd X Reader

Word Count: 1,952 words

Warning(s): yelling, mention of violence/attack

Author's Note: I love that I am using this little run of Jason Todd parts to this series as an excuse to talk about music that I don't get to talk about much. Like Against the Current, who I have been listening to for a very, very long time. Like close to a decade, if not longer.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

-------------------------

Blood Like Gasoline

Baby those lips like fire My blood like gasoline Sparked the fire That burned down everything

It was a bad decision.

I knew that.

However, considering that Hank had a bomb in his chest and the rest of the team was focused on completely the wrong thing, I thought it was the only choice I had.

After some careful sentences, I managed to get Hank to tell me exactly where he had met with Jason. Without a word to anyone else, I left.

My goal was to talk to him. To get through to him and get him to stop this. The team didn't need another loss right now. They needed all the help that they could get.

I walked most of the way into the room, looking all around for any sign that someone was staying there.

"I knew you'd show up."

I immediately turned around, hand going for my weapon.

"What? Are you gonna shoot me?"

I dropped my hand as soon as I saw it was Jason behind me.

"You showed up earlier than I expected," he continued. "Thought Hank would see through your attempts to find me."

Was I really that predictable or did Jason just know me?

"What happened, Jason," I asked.

"Do you mean how did I come back to life or why I'm doing this?"

"I'll take either."

"They hated me," he explained. "That whole team did. In the end, especially."

"Gar didn't... Dick didn't," I took a step forward. "I didn't."

"You never did, huh?" he chuckled. "Always wanted to save me. From Deathstroke, from the team, from myself..."

"How do I stop the bomb, Jason?"

He ignored my question, instead deciding to walk closer to me.

I finally had to tear my eyes away from him. There was something in his eyes that was just too intense for me to continue looking at. I couldn't do it.

I heard Jason chuckle. "Aw, do I still make you nervous?"

He stepped forward, smirking at me. I felt my eyes jumping between his lips and his eyes. I thought I had better self-control than this, but this was Jason. He had a different effect on me than most other people. Even now.

I took a deep breath. "Jason, how do I save Hank?"

"Oh my God!" he rolled his eyes before stepping away from me. "Why do you care about helping him anyways? He treated you like shit!"

I shook my head. "That doesn't mean that I'm gonna let him die."

"Oh, please! You don't care about him!"

"I care about Dawn!"

"Who was more than happy to turn her back on you because Hank told her to?"

"That's not what happened."

"Isn't it?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head, letting my head fall so I was facing the ground. I never liked fighting with Jason. I thought that I would be more willing to now that Hank was in trouble, but Jason was right. Hank treated me like shit. And Dawn did nothing to stop him. God, I hated when Jason was right.

"(Y/n)."

He had walked back over to me at some point. I looked back at his face. I saw his eyes scan every part of my face. It was like he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I think some part of him expected me to pull away. But I couldn't bring myself to do that.

Even after everything had happened, the kisses still felt the same as they had before. Annoyingly right.

I felt a fire burning in my chest. Mostly love but there was this small spark of anger. A spark that being with Jason only encouraged.

He pulled away first. "Stay. With me."

I paused. A million thoughts hit me all at once just because of three words.

"Come on," he pushed. "None of them treat you the way that you should be. None of them value you. Please."

After a few more seconds of hesitation, I leaned forward and kissed him again. I couldn't leave him. Not when I just got him back.

All I wanted now was to do anything I could in the hopes of keeping him.

No matter what that may have meant.

I Like the Way

It's not a lot but it's sweet when it's simple Don't overthink it, just dive in and let go Don't complicate, I like you babe

When Jason and I first became friends, I was in a situation that was eerily similar to his.

Spent a long time with a bad family, fell into what was mostly a bad crowd, and then was taken in by a rich family. The big difference was that I had spent much longer in that rich world than he had.

We had met at some fancy event that I don't remember the purpose of. I didn't really care to find out anymore.

We were fast friends. Telling old stories and comparing our new lives to each other. It was nice.

Being friends with Jason led to a lot of trouble.

When we started dating, there was even more.

For example, him sneaking in through my window.

I spotted the light from the motorcycle through my window. I jumped up and made it over to look out at him. I couldn't see him until he had shut off the bike and made it closer to the house. He waved at me.

I opened the window. I would've yelled down at him, but I knew that would've alerted someone. He climbed up a part of the building to get to my window.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered as he pulled himself in through the window, closing it quietly behind him.

"Why are you whispering?" he replied. "Your parents' room is on the opposite side of the house."

"And yet they seem to hear every single thing I say," I shrugged. "You can't be in here."

He chuckled as I pushed him toward the window again. "Then, come with me."

"I can't."

He turned around to face me. He was much closer than I expected him to be. I froze where I was.

He seemed amused about me freezing when he spoke up, "Why? Do I make you nervous?"

He stepped even closer to me. He had this smirk pulling at his lips as he raised an eyebrow at me. I felt ridiculous for how nervous I got around him sometimes. We were already dating. I had no reason to be shy around him anymore. But I couldn't help it. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head, looking away from him for a moment.

"Come on," he pushed. "We both know you have far more fun with me."

He was right. Spending time with him was usually far better than whatever else I had planned.

"Just not tonight, okay?" I replied. "I'm pretty sure they're still pissed about our last night out."

"Fine, fine," he held his hands up. "You owe me."

"Owe you?"

"Yup," he nodded. "You think sneaking out of Wayne Manor is easy."

"Alright, alright," I said. "What do I owe you?"

"A kiss."

I scoffed. "That was... disgustingly cheesy."

"Shut up."

I chuckled before leaning forward to kiss him gently. "Good enough?"

He sighed dramatically. "For now."

Jason finally relented and went to climb back out the window again. I stepped back as he did, looking over at the door to make sure it wasn't open at all.

"Hey," Jason was basically hanging out the window when he spoke up again. I looked at him. "Love you."

I felt my face warm up as I smiled. "Love you too."

Maybe being with Jason brought quite a bit of trouble, but he definitely made it worth it.

weapon

I seem fine But I can't take the highs and the lows All I am is a weapon I shoot 'em down 'til I end up alone

If I hadn't lost my notebook, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have been digging around in Jason's stuff and I wouldn't have found something that I didn't want to see.

Jason had first talked me into following him to San Francisco. Following him back to Gotham after everything went to shit felt natural. I stayed with him in the manor because of a strong blowout fight before I left the first time.

I don't remember how I found it. I feel like I just kind of nudged and stumbled onto it. What I could remember was looking for my notebook one minute and the next, I was holding some oxygen mask with a vial of some green or yellow liquid in it.

I sat and stared at it for a moment. I hadn't heard anything about... whatever that thing was. I turned it over in my hands, looking for any identifying markers.

"What are you doing?"

I froze for a moment when I heard Jason's voice. I took a deep breath. "I was looking for my notebook. Thought I may have thrown it over here."

"That fancy one that Bruce got you?"

"Yeah, that one," I nodded as I stood. "Jason?"

"Yeah?"

I turned around and held up the contraption I had found. "What is this?"

I saw his entire face shift as he saw what was in my hand. It was enough for me to assume it was his.

"What is it, Jason?"

"It's nothing," he replied.

"Jason-"

"Give it back."

"Not until you tell me what it is."

"It... It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "It's none of your business."

"We are a little past that, don't you think?"

"It's nothing!" he insisted. "It's just to help me get back to normal."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"No more nightmares or fear. I can be Robin again."

"Does Bruce know about this?"

"Why should he?"

"Oh my god," I mumbled.

"I need to be Robin, you know that! I... I can't just be forced to the sidelines! I need to be able to fight and work without all of this shit!"

"I don't give a shit about Robin!"

The tension in the room after that was thick enough to be cut with a knife. I closed my eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at him again.

"I... I care about you, Jason. Not about Robin. You are more than Robin. And you shouldn't need to do... whatever the fuck this is just so Bruce will care about you! If that's the case, then I'm sorry, but he's a piece of shit!"

It was a strong accusation, but one that I had grown more confident in over the course of the last several weeks.

Jason closed his eyes and looked away from me.

I walked over to him, tossing the contraption on the bed as I did. I reached up and cupped the sides of his face. He looked at me again.

"I can't force you to do anything," I said. "I know that. I am just asking you to not do something that'll get you hurt. I want you to be happy, and if being Robin makes you happy, fine. But I don't want you to think that being Robin is the only thing giving you value."

His hands reached up and touched mine, trying to hold them in place. I grinned at him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine.

"I love you," I mumbled. "I... I need you to know that."

"I love you too," he muttered.

I smiled a little bit wider. That was enough for me for the time being.

-------------------------

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#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #titans x reader #titans fanfiction #titans imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #dc imagine #dc fanfiction #dc x reader

[bentobarnes]

Since requests are open, what about a Touch starved!Reader x Bucky? How do you think Bucky would react by touching the reader and she leaning in his touch, or coming closer, or touching him more often than "necessary" (but not being so clingy in public)?

Thanks already, love your stories ♥️

a/n : i'm glad that you like my work, hon. and i hope you like this as well 🥺

⤿ word count : 1k

warnings : 18+, fingering, teasing, fluff

*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡

‘Hey, that was rude!’ Bucky exclaimed when you smacked his arm after he tried to joke with Natasha about how much you love cuddles.

He wasn’t wrong, although this wasn’t the whole truth about why you loved to cuddle that much with him. It was his touch, the fact that he was allowing you to be close to his skin… and he still didn’t know.

‘You are awful!’ You squeezed your lips into a thin line and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you sank further into the couch.

‘Okay, okay. I’m gonna leave you two alone!’ Natasha excused herself and walked out of the room, leaving you and Bucky alone.

Bucky signed and stood from the couch, making his way over to the fridge. God, he looked soo hot with this slim black t-shirt which seemed like it was one size smaller. His defined abs were protruding against the material, leaving no space for your imagination. Even his biceps were bulging out against the short sleeves. You couldn’t help but admire his God-like body, and your mouth filled with saliva.

Quietly walking over to him, your arms wrapped around his waist, but before you could realize what was happening, he had you pinned against the cold surface of the fringe.

His hands were wrapped around your wrists, keeping you in place as his leg went to rest between yours.

The harsh material of his jeans was rubbing into your bare skin, centimeters away from your burning core. You felt weak at this moment, and a moan accidentally rolled out your lips.

‘Do you think, I don’t know what you want, baby doll? Huh? You are craving my touch, aren’t you?’ Bucky groaned against your neck, as his leg slightly touched your middle.

‘Fuck… You know?’ Was the only thing you managed to say before his lips attached to your neck, sucking a bruise onto the pale skin.

‘It was quite obvious, doll.’

At first, he didn’t realize what your ‘little’ touches meant. He thought it was a part of the personality, maybe wanting attention or feeling more secure, but he had never seen you doing it to someone else. The way your arm always brushed his while you were watching a movie or how your knee was always pressing against his while eating dinner, or the constant need for hugs.

But as the time passed and he got to know you better, you became more touched-starved than before. He noticed it after you bumped into him while trying to move around the tiny space between the sink and the shelves. Bucky could feel how your nipples hardened just by this ‘little accident’.

‘I love how you respond to my touch, baby doll.’ He hissed as his fingers slid through your wet folds. ‘Soo wet for me, baby. Is this what you wanted all along? You wanted me to touch you?’

Your fingertips were roaming around his wide back, fingernails gripping eagerly as he found your bud and pressed it.

‘Talk to me, Y/N. Is this what you want?’

‘Yes…’ You moaned when his fingers returned to your clit, drawing circles around the sensitive skin. His front was pressing you against the fringe, making a heat difference between your back and front, which sent shivers down your spine.

His skin was radiating warmth but still, his metal arm was cold like a winter morning. The combination between your burning core and his metal arm only worsened the growing knot in your lower belly.

You lowered your head just to see his metal fingers disappearing into you, stretching your walls. The golden details on his arm were shining from where the sun rays were entering the room, enveloping you both into a soft yellow light.

‘I can’t believe you were soo eager to get my fingers inside you, doll.’ He groaned against your lips, teeth, and tongues fighting for dominance. The soft humming coming from his throat as he continued to kiss you made your legs weak.

He was pulling his fingers in and out of you while his free hand was secured around your waist. The way you were hugging him with both your arms made it impossible to not feel the definition of his abs against your own.

‘Buck…’ You whimpered as you felt the burning feeling in your core explode, your walls clenching his fingers inside of you.

‘Look at you, baby. Made a mess around my fingers.’ Bucky hissed as he slowly removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he sucked them, tasting you. ‘You taste like honey, doll.’ His lips found yours once again, tasting your own juices as his tongue explored your mouth.

‘Do this again but in my bedroom, please…’ You breathed out and felt his body move against yours as he chuckled.

‘My touch-starved girl.’ He giggled and kissed your cheek before he rested his forehead on yours.

‘James and Y/N, thank you for the show!’ Tony’s voice filled the room from the romcoms, and you signed in frustration.

‘Well, that was unexpected.’ Bucky groaned as he finally removed his body from yours, and the slight freeze from the open window hit your front.

‘It’s not polite to watch people like this!’ You yelled, not knowing where the camera was so you probably looked ridiculous.

‘Noted!’ Tony replied, and you furrowed your brows even more, with Bucky quietly giggling in the background.

‘I hate you both.’ You scoffed and looked at Bucky, who stopped laughing and walked over to you.

‘No, you don’t.’ He put a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and cupped your jaw, thumbs gently brushing your redden cheeks. ‘You’re adorable.’

Bucky lowed his head, and you closed your eyes as his lips captured yours into a slow, passionate kiss. It was different than the others you have shared till now. This one was special because it was different. It was the start of a new chapter in your relationship with him, and you were entirely in for it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan smut

[specialinterestshows]

Request 🫡🫡

Finn and Damian secret dating au where they’ve almost been caught a million times but somehow they always manage to find some kind of excuse or something so no one figures it out and they constantly find random excuses so they can be alone together and it’s all going well until finn has a noticeable hickey on his neck and rhea immediately puts everything together and rushes to Damian to yell at him for not telling her sooner .. also before the secrets out a little bit of jealous finn and or jealous Damian would be 🙏🙏 because I read the two parts of the other Damian and finn one and just something about jealousy really is something else but obviously you don’t have to you are the writer and I trust ur vision completely 🫡🙏

Love this request!

The following is the first section of Tryst Of Fate, a three-part Finn Balor x Damian Priest secret dating fic, with a tarot theme, because I’m a slut for a good theme. Each section will have some meanings of the card mentioned in each respective chapter title, with the more relevant meanings highlighted. This is NOT meant to be in any way comprehensive on tarot and any meanings therein.

Warnings for this section: Dirty talk, begging, teasing, hair pulling, jealousy, choking

-

Tryst Of Fate (Part 1/3): The Devil

Temptation, seduction, materialism / Freedom, lack of will, resentment

It was having to come up with excuses to leave the group, just the two of them-

No, no, it was having to restrain himself during and right after tag-team and group matches. That was definitely the most difficult part of being in a secret relationship with Damian, Finn had decided.

Every match - without fail - it took every ounce of willpower he had not to check out Damian when he was dripping with sweat, muscles flexing with every move, dominating the ring. As much as he tried not to, Finn would still catch himself licking his lips when he failed to shift his gaze away from Damian. His boyfriend’s body was irresistible and Finn was constantly reminding himself to show restraint.

When the two of them would win a tag match together, they celebrated in public as platonically as possible - saving their real celebration until the moment they were alone.

“Please dear god take me now,” Finn begged, throwing himself at Damian the second the rest of the group had left the locker room, “I need you so badly.”

“I can tell, lindo,” Damian chuckled, hand grazing the bulge that was stretching his boyfriend’s already-tight pants to their limit, “Y no solo porque dijiste “we need to go over tonight’s match so we can do better next time” - whining softly at Damian’s touch, Finn gripped the taller man’s vest as he continued - “like we haven’t already used that excuse before. You’re lucky no one offered to help.”

“You know I’m no good at excuses,” Finn blushed, looking up into Damian’s deep brown eyes, “Can’t we just tell people?”

“And risk dividing the group?” - Damian caressed his boyfriend’s face, rubbing a thumb over his rough stubble as he kept talking - “Making our enemies think we have more weak spots because the members of The Judgment Day are too focused on each other to keep our guard up?” his hand travelled slowly to the back of Finn’s head before gripping him roughly by his hair, “Besides, I thought you liked being my dirty little secret.”

Finn moaned softly, considering Damian’s argument before angling for a compromise.

“How about just one person, then? JD would understand-“

“JD?” Damian let go of Finn as he scoffed, “Why do you want to tell him? Why is he the first person you think of?”

Adjusting his pants, Finn took in Damian’s irritated demeanor before chuckling, “Is the Archer of Infamy… jealous?”

“Should I be?” Damian growled, searching the other man’s face carefully.

“Of course not!” Finn gently laid a hand on Damian’s chest, “You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“Dime porque, príncipe,” Damian ordered, voice growing sultry as he moved closer.

Finn gently planted a kiss on Damian’s neck before answering, “Because I’m yours, Cupid.”

“Ay, no,” Damian groaned, pulling away and turning around, “I told you I hate that cheesy nickname.”

“Only because it makes you blush,” came the sing-song reply behind him. Finn particularly enjoyed the fact that he was the only person who could make his boyfriend blush.

“Cállate,” Damian growled, whipping around and wrapping one hand around Finn’s scruffy neck, “I can think of better ways you can use that mouth, lindo.”

The door suddenly swung open, and Finn’s heart raced as he watched JD McDonagh walk into the locker room.

“Hey, I-“ JD stopped in his tracks when he saw Damian holding up a completely red-faced Finn by his throat, “South of Heaven?“ - JD’s voice took on a concerned tone - “Are the two of you practicing moves on each other? You have a match next week!”

Muttering something unintelligible in an irritated tone, Damian carefully let go of Finn - who was thanking his lucky stars that it had been JD walking in.

Had it been someone more perceptive, they might have noticed that Damian was doing his best to block Finn’s hard-on from view.

“If you really need to practice on someone,” JD continued, dramatically throwing off his vest, “Consider me your sparring partner.”

Damian sighed, massaging his temples as he seemed to search for some semblance of patience before whispering only loud enough for Finn to hear, “Someone always offers to help.”

[end part one of three]

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/737896226499035136/tryst-of-fate-part-23-the-high-priestess

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@domripley , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence

#wwe fanfiction #the judgment day #finn balor #damian priest #finn balor x damian priest #jd mcdonagh #rhea ripley #dominik mysterio #the judgement day #tarot cards #request #specialinterestshows presents #tryst of fate

[ghoastixx]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a poly Bill and Ted with a male reader who's a bassist? Maybe they have the reader join their band? I barely see Bill and Ted x male reader fanfics and I need more (I saw your Bill and Ted x male reader fanfic and I love it sm :))

Poly Bill and Ted x male bassist reader

AN:Hello sweetheart!!! I’m so happy to have an ask, it’s been a hot minute. I would absolutely LOVE to write this for you!!!!! I’m so glad to get feedback on my other writings, I’m so glad that you liked my other one! And I agree 100% that there aren’t enough Bill and Ted x male reader fics. I’d be more than happy to supply them to you :))))

———————————————————————————

Wether or wether not the boys knew you were a bassist before you guys started talking is definitely questionable

So we will run through the statistics.

The boys knew you were a bassist before you guys got together

There’s not much to do around during the summer since everything gets boring pretty quickly in San Demas.

The boys gathered enough money by working their shitty- half assed- part time jobs to go to a little local ‘bar.’

It wasn’t really a bar, more just a dinner theater type thing for the locals to fuck around in

Literally and figuratively

“Hey Ted,”

“Yes Bill?”

“Do we know them?” Bill asked, pointing to the stage where some guy was setting up his equipment.

“Isn’t he in our science class?”

They both seemed to look at each other, sharing a brain cell.

“Well what is he doing here?” They both seemed to think. They didn’t seem to think much of anything until someone started shredding on stage. They turned around to see who the killer was, and low and behold, they saw you.

“Wow-“

“They’re good.”

“We need them in the band.”

“We need them in the band.”

They both cornered you after the show.

“Hey dude, we think it would be killer if you’d join our band,”

“It would be totally excellent!”

Of course you’d join, what else would you have left to lose?

Of course, you guys got closer, and eventually started dating.

2. They didn’t know at all

You were watching them during their band practice one day, they considered it a “date.”

You kept watching as they picked the wrong strings, and argued with each other while they played.

Eventually having enough, you step in. You snatch the bass out of the ones hand and show them how it’s done

Needless to say, they are absolutely floored

Excuse me y/n????? Why’d you never mention this before????

Immediately apart of the band

No questions asked

They make you play more

Like oh my god look at how cool our s/o is?????

If you played your own gigs, they would be your number one fans.

They’d go to all of your shows if you let them in for free

They’d brag to EVERYBODY about you.

“This is our totally excellent babe Y/n”

“He’s stellar on the bass, you should listen sometime.”

They’d shout you out in the films they make of their practices.

“Filmed by the excellent babe, and the most triumphant bassist Y/n”

They love you so much.

Please validate them.

They need it.

———————————————————————————-

My inbox is always open!

-Ghoastix

#fanfic #fanfiction #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and ted x reader #bill and Ted x male reader

[lost-child-animeisacomfort]

Short Megumi Fushiguro Story

You and Megumi began dating a few months ago. The two of you got to talk more and grew closer due to the fact that he was the one primarily training you. Watching his skills in fights with various curses, his determination, and his personality. Quiet but confident, direct and to the point, kind but only to a few select people. All of him drew you in. It helped that he’s cute as well. His messy hair and dark blue eyes. He is just so beautiful to you. You couldn’t help but stare at him sometimes. The only difficult part about dating him is you both try to keep it secret from the others. Not that you were embarrassed, just didn’t need the harassment.

Nobody has picked up on you two even liking each other. The only thing public between you two is the training. You help each other up and hold hands with the other for a little longer than needed, but not too long to be noticed. When walking by you, Megumi places his hand on your back just to touch you. You both look at each other when speaking, not too long, but often. When Gojo lets you pair, 9/10 you choose Megumi. You have to choose between the three other first years but make the excuse of ‘Megumi has a technique that works best for training me’. After a while, Gojo tells you to expand and know how to fight against others, which of course makes plenty of sense so you can’t argue.

The four of you, five including Gojo, talk about your training for the day, missions you’ve been on, tests and homework over breakfast or dinner the day after. You two are always sitting next to each other, fingers locked under the table. You try not to be together all the time and make it obvious. You walk with the others, messing with Yuji or skipping or linking arms with Nobara. Megumi walks behind, seeing your happiness before him warms his heart. He can’t help but smile sometimes. He prays that nobody catches the upturn of his lips.

Coming back from a mission with Yuji, your energy is gone. Like Megumi, you are also introverted and get socially exhausted easily. You do your best to be with everybody, but tonight is different, it’s way more difficult to be around everybody. The building where the curse had made it’s home was a building you had been in many a time. It was your old house. The house had been on the cheaper side when buying due to a previous death in the house. That fact scared people off, but not your family. The reason for moving again… your grandfather passed in his sleep, much like the previous owner. After moving out, there was yet another death in the house. When hearing about it, Jujutsu Tech knew something was off. You hadn’t known it was your old abode until you had arrived at the building with the roof you had lived under for a good portion of your life.

With the exhaustion of the curses, emotional shock of the location being your old house, and Yuji’s energy before and after, you needed a break from the world. Laying on your bed, there’s a light knock on your door. Sighing, you stand to open it. Behind the door is your tall, dark haired boy, rubbing the back of his head.

“Megumi? What’s up? Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, everything’s fine out there. Just wanted to check in. I noticed you didn’t eat dinner. Is something wrong?” He asks, worry adorns his face.

“Just not hungry.” You say avoiding looking at him.

“I don’t really believe that.” He lifts your chin to look into his eyes, then slides his soft hands down your arms trying to smooth your anxiety, “Baby, what’s wrong? Please…” his voice almost in whisper

“I just wanted to stay in my room. I just can’t be out right now. I’m spent. I love them, but I just can’t… Megumi…that was my old house… That curse was at my house… That’s what got my grandpa…” you look away, almost embarrassed, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“God, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help but I am sorry you had to deal with that.” He comforts, “I bet you didn’t tell either Yuji or Gojo either.” You shake your head, tears still in your eyes. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and squeezes your hands before walking down the hall.

A few minutes later, that same soft knock is at your door. Getting up, you know it’s Megumi this time, “Hey Princess,” He holds a bowl of potato soup and from behind his back, he brings around a bag, “I got some snacks, and some soup. I would like it if you ate something. I’ll leave you alone if you’d like.” He offers.

Taking his gifts of snacks, soup, and loving smile, you reply with “Please sit with me, if that’s okay with you … I don’t want you to leave…” Your (e/c) orbs find his dark blue ones as your voice trails off.

“Of course I’ll stay.” He steps in, takes everything from your hands, puts it on the ground where he knows you like to sit when you’re having an off day and pulls you to his chest, “Whatever you need.”

“I need you…”

“Alright, eat some soup and we can just lay in bed, okay?” You just nod, feeling relief, you let him into your room, “I’ll read to you after we get in bed.”

It’s odd to him that you sit on the floor sometimes but he joins you on the bright coral colored plush rug in the middle of your room. You talk nothing serious, Megumi catches you up on the shenanigans from the other two at dinner and the book he picked up from the library.

After eating, Megumi takes your dishes back to the kitchen and tells you to change into your pajamas and get ready for bed. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you head back to your room, and you hear Yuji call you.

“Hey! Have you seen Fushiguro?”

As if on cue, Megumi walks down and sees you talking to Yuji.

“Itadori, what do you want?” He asks

“I was looking for you actually. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me, Nobara, and Gojo to go get mochi.” Turning to you, Yuji continues, “We didn’t think you were up for going. You could come if you want though!” He offers.

“Thanks for the thought, but I will stay here.” You smile shyly, the exhaustion showing through.

“I’ve had enough of you three for the day.” Megumi adds.

“Well alright. What kind do you guys want?”

After a second you open your mouth, “Strawberry, please.” Your voice comes out shy.

“Green tea, for me. Thanks.” Megumi’s voice curt.

“Got it! See you guys later!” He turns and the pink haired boy disappears down the hallway.

Once no longer visible, Megumi takes your hand and gently pulls you back to your room.

He climbs into your bed and you follow, getting comfortable with your head on his chest and arm thrown over his torso. He pulls out the book he’s been reading to you and begins the story for the night.

About two hours pass by and there is another knock at your door and your name was called fairly loud. Yuji. Again. You and Megumi shoot each other a worried glance. You get up and barely open the door, “Yeah?”

“We brought you the mochi you wanted!”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it.” You smile and take the plastic container from his hands.

“Don’t mean to ask you again, but do you know where Fushiguro is? I knocked on his door to bring him his, but there wasn’t an answer, and the showers were empty too.”

“Oh, uh, maybe in the kitchen?” You suggest, knowing that the kitchen is all the way across the dorm area, giving Megumi time to get to his room.

“You’re probably right. I’ll go look. Thank you! Hope the mochi helps!” And with that, Yuji trots down the hallway.

Turning to Megumi, your eyes go wide, “I’m a little bummed you have to go. If you hurry and get to your room or at least walk that way, you won’t get caught.” You sigh, disappointed that he has to go.

“I’ll be right back, princess. Give me just a few minutes.” He presses his lips to the top of your forehead and slips out the door.

After almost 45 minutes, he opens the door and you hear, “Fushiguro, what are you doin’? Did she ask you for something?” Yet again, the pink haired boy is close to catching you both and your relationship you have been hiding for months.

“You know what, yeah. She asked me to come back and keep reading to her.” He states so blatantly.

“Read to her? Why?” Yuji tilts his head

“She’s anxious, drained and is really off because that mission you were on, that was her old house. I got dinner and sat with her. She asked me to read to her again and I did.” His forwardness doesn't falter.

You get nervous for the reaction you will receive but it was too late to backtrack.

“Megumi! We were looking for you!” You know that voice. Gojo, “Why are you going into her room?”

“Why is that your business?”

“You were just saying how you were reading to her before though.” Yuji points out.

You can hear the sound of somebody face palming and you know it’s your boyfriend.

“Oh Megumi, look at you, do you have a crush on somebody?” Gojo teases.

Before he can answer, you are up and at the door standing next to the tall, dark haired man with the dark blue eyes that you have fallen for.

He looks to you with a straight face that says, ‘Let’s just get it over with’, and you nod. “I mean, I’d hope he has a crush on me. That’d be awkward.” You state with a twisted grin, knowing the shock that is about to ensue.

“Oh look at that, you might have a girlfriend now! I’m so proud!” Gojo pretends to sniffle

“Yeah well, I’ve had a girlfriend for a few months now.”

Their jaws drop to the floor and you both chuckle, now knowing you no longer have to sneak around.

“On that note, I’m going to continue to read to her. Goodnight.” Megumi states, a smile still across his usually hardened visage.

“You know they’re not going to let this go right?” You ask

“At least we are done hiding.” He smiles down at you, “Let’s get in bed princess. I’ll read some more.”

#fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk megumi x y/n #fushiguro x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you

[summerinthecloudsx]

Where the rain can’t reach or Ushijima, your best friend, runs out of patience with Terushima, your (ex)boyfriend

A/N: Minors DNI. The chokehold these men have on me I swear. Idk what this is I’m just trying to fill the void of Ushijima content :’)

Angst to comfort, cheating, brief mentions of past intimacy, friends to lovers, Terushima is a player, Ushijima is a giant (protective) teddy bear, timeskip ages, eventual smut

Part 1

You should have known. They warned you this would happen. Hell, you warned yourself. Terushima is too wild, too much of a free spirit to commit to one person. You knew that. You knew you shouldn’t have expected faithfulness from him or believed him when he said he would change for you, love you honestly. You knew better, sensed the betrayal looming and growing closer by the second, but god it hurts to have it thrown in your face so carelessly.

“I-I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

Terushima doesn’t even push the girl off of him. Your stomach forms knots as you glance at her legs straddling his hips, pushing her bare chest against his. They’re relaxed in his stylist chair, the neon lights from the streets outside casting a bright fuchsia glow through the small gaps in the closed blinds and the partially opened door. They look beautiful in the light, ethereal even. Untouchable. 

“This is–.” Your boyfriend stops himself, pursing his lips because he knows there’s no way he can defend himself. He’s been caught, and he can't even manage to give some type of excuse. 

The woman—you recognize her as a regular client of his—glances back at you, sleek black hair falling over her bored, hazel eyes while Terushima pulls her white shirt back up her torso. Like your boyfriend, she makes no attempt to feign innocence or ignorance. She simply tilts her head to the side as if to ask why you’re still here, and truthfully, you have no idea. 

“I wanted…” Your words fade, voice muffled and shaky. Wanted to surprise you. You grip the brown bag of treats in your right hand, clenching your left hand into a tight fist. Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you cry. Your shoulders rise with your labored breathing, an attempt to calm yourself enough to speak or react in some way other than complete shock. The breath ends with a short, soft laugh. Nothing about the situation is funny, but you’re not sure what else to do. Why does it hurt so much? 

“I brought your favorites.” You raise the bag so the light catches it, shaking the pastries within. “They um. They’re still warm so…” Your voice cracks, lip trembling as your emotions betray you. Tears fall freely down your cheeks despite your best attempts to hold them in, and you can only laugh as you toss the bag onto the floor. 

Terushima calls out your name, finally. He gently slides the woman off his lap, though he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to reach you even as you back away from the scene. “Please wait. Don’t leave, I–.” 

Please. It hurts to look at you.

“It’s okay,” you tell him with another false smile. You stumble a bit as you descend the steps, your back to the man in the doorway. You let your lips fall in a frown now that he’s unable to see you, unphased by the cold rain that’s begun to fall. It’s unusually cold for this time of year, the winter season starting early. They say it’s supposed to snow soon. You were going to build snowmen with Terushima and bake your favorite breads and sweets. You were looking forward to the many ways he found to keep you warm, keep you fantasizing about him whenever you weren’t together. Now, you felt nothing except the harsh, empty cold. 

“I shouldn't have tried to tie you down, right? I’m sorry.” You're not the one who needs to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, never forced Terushima into the relationship. He approached you first, after all, and spent many months convincing you to give him a chance, to trust that he changed his ways since high school. It isn’t your fault, and yet, you can’t stop yourself. “I just want you to be happy, so no worries.” 

“Wait!” The way he cries out your name, his own voice cracking just slightly, almost makes you want to turn around. For a moment, it makes you want to stop running blindly down the sidewalk and sprint back to him. But it won’t change anything. It won’t make the beautiful woman in his salon disappear, and it certainly can’t make you forget what you witnessed in the neon glow. So you keep running, faster until you can no longer hear his pleading voice or anything besides your choked sobs and water splashing beneath your feet. You run until your chest hurts, until you reach a quiet alley where a cat hisses at your sudden chaotic appearance. It rushes away from you, though your own legs have stopped their movement without your permission. An animalistic cry scratches your throat as you press your forehead against the brick wall of one of the surrounding buildings.

Make it stop.

Your stomach hurts, it aches so fiercely that you lean over and empty its contents onto the concrete next to the dumpster. The landscape dances around you as your vision grows fuzzy, but you force yourself to gather a bit of rainwater and wipe off your face, reminding yourself to breathe. Inhale for three seconds. Hold for five seconds. Exhale slowly for five seconds. Repeat. You do this several times until the panic begins to fade and you have enough awareness to make note of your surroundings.

You’ve ventured into an unknown area of the city, far from your apartment and Terushima’s salon. There aren’t as many lights in this section save for a few  flickering street lamps. The alley you’ve hidden yourself in rests between two buildings, a typical run-down bar and an old abandoned building. You’ve never been to the bar or even heard of the obscure name. You’re not even sure how to get home from here. If not for the GPS on your phone, you’d be completely lost and panicking yet again. 

Just as you begin the humiliating walk back to your apartment, your phone dings to signal you received a text. For a moment, you think it’s Terushima. Maybe he’s apologizing or ending your relationship officially. You’re not sure which would hurt more, but when you see it’s a message from Ushijima instead of your now ex-boyfriend, you decide the silence hurts the most. 

Practice ended late today. Are you awake?

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. Despite his awkward, stoic persona, Ushijima’s become rather skilled at reading your emotions. Even through text, he would realize something is wrong, and you’re not sure you can talk about it just yet. Not to mention, it wouldn’t be fair to him. He had enough going on with his professional volleyball career. He doesn’t need to deal with your drama as well. 

Sorry. I’m sure you’re asleep or with Terushima. I should have thought more first. I have a free day tomorrow if you’d like to do something, though. 

Reading his text brings fresh tears to your eyes, fingers trembling over your screen. For a moment, they hover over the call button on his contact information, knowing he’d happily welcome you into his home. Well, as happy as he can seem. He’s never been one to be loud or energetic, but the calm surrounding him always makes you feel better. 

“No, ugh stop!” You whisper, realizing that your trembling finger accidentally hit the call button. You mumble curses to yourself as you try to end the call before it registers on Ushijima’s phone, sighing when it finally disappears. You can’t do this to him. He’s seen you endure a few breakups through the years from a fling with a quiet boy in high school that ended in a mutual friendship and a long distance relationship with someone the summer after you graduated. He even sat back without judgment when you went through with a few hook ups before you settled down with Terushima. Your friend has never seen a breakup this severe, though. 

Everything okay? You just called and ended it before I could answer. 

Your stomach twists again, unsure of how to respond. You don’t want to tell him what happened over text, but you know you can’t speak clearly. And you definitely don’t want him to see you in person right now. Apparently, you’ve taken far too long to respond, because your phone lights up with a request to FaceTime him, which you quickly deny without thinking twice. 

Not a good time. Text you later!

You type out the response and send it before he has the chance to call again, hoping it will be a good enough excuse to give you time to get home. 

-

Ushijima is many things. He’s strong-willed, determined, and hopelessly devoted to the things he loves. Patience isn’t one of his charming qualities, however. So when you refuse to elaborate on why the night isn’t going so well, he tries to resist the urge to pry. Maybe it was a bad day at work, he tells himself. You’ve been working as a freelance artist while you update your web comic series on the side. Perhaps you had to deal with a demanding client, or maybe you’re stuck working on a panel and don’t know how to finish it. All of those are valid reasons for your strange behavior, but Ushijima can’t shake the feeling that something worse has happened. You’ve never intentionally ignored his calls or responded so coldly to him. Did he…upset you somehow? 

He thinks for a second he might call Terushima. If something bad has happened, then he’s sure to know more about it. But he isn’t close with the hairstylist, so the call might seem a bit overbearing or even intrusive. So then, he’s back to square one. 

His concern grows deeper as the minutes go by, hastily washing his hair and rinsing the pine scented soap off his body. He isn’t a skeptical person, and he isn’t one to act on emotional impulse, but something is wrong. He can feel it.

He quickly finds himself jumping into a pair of warm sweatpants and yanking a hoodie over his head, roughly drying the wet strands of hair with his towel before tossing the damp fabric in its designated basket. Making sure he has his keys and wallet, Ushijima locks up his apartment and sprints outside with an umbrella prepared. 

-

You’re soaked by the time you make it home, clothes sticking to you as if the rain had magically glued them to your skin. At least the long walk home gave you plenty of time to compose yourself, although you hesitate to call your current state ‘composed’ or anything of the sorts. Despite the residual sniffling, your sadness has transformed to an overwhelming state of humiliation. 

Thinking back, you wonder how you missed the signs. Between the late nights at the salon claiming his boss wanted him to organize the products and the distance he inserted, it should have been obvious. Terushima had always been a flirt, and changing that lifestyle for someone as ordinary as you was out of the question. You wanted to believe he was different, wanted so badly to be the only one for him, but now you understand how unfair it was to hold him to such a standard. Unfair to yourself and Terushima.

But what if you had done things differently? As you peel off your wet clothes, your mind briefly imagines everything you could have done to keep him interested. Maybe he needed more intimately, though you certainly never had a problem with your sex life. He satisfied your every want and need, but perhaps you didn’t do enough for him. 

If I was a little more spontaneous…

If I didn’t get so absorbed in my work…

If I cooked or cleaned more often…

Thousands of what if scenarios raced through your mind until the sound of a rushed knock signaled you had a visitor. You knew it was Ushijima before his deep voice called out your name, roughly wiping your eyes to ensure no liquid remained. If you kept the lights dim, he wouldn’t notice the redness. 

Just tell him you’re sick, you command yourself as you crack open the door to reveal his tall figure. Tell him to go home so he doesn’t catch anything before his next game. 

But you can’t. Because the minute you see the furrowing of his brow and the wild state of his hair, you know you can’t turn him away. 

You’re silent as you turn your back to him and walk towards the white plush sofa, thankful when he enters the apartment and closes the door without waiting for instructions. Though, he doesn’t join you on the sofa. His brown eyes watch with deepening concern as you pull your knees to your chest, fingers fumbling with the fabric of your pajamas. 

“What happened?” He asks in his usual calm voice, though there’s a slight edge to it. 

You smile sadly, a soft, airy chuckle filling the room. “You’re always so good at figuring me out.” 

“You’re not that hard to read,” he responds. “And your eyes are bloodshot.” 

You frown, pausing for a moment as you contemplate how to tell him what happened. You don’t want useless pity, and you don’t want to have another panic attack in front of Ushijima. Best friend or not, you don’t want to scare him. “Terushima and I are over.” Don’t ask…

“Why?” 

Of course he wants to know, you scold yourself for thinking otherwise. You’re his best friend. But the pain is still so fresh in your mind that for a moment, you’re back in the salon. Neon lights, bare flesh, and hazel eyes flash repeatedly. You can still hear the way he screamed your name at the end, wondering why he pretended to care enough to do so when he barely moved away from the woman’s touch at first. 

“I went to his salon, and he…” Your voice falls quiet again, palm sliding across your mouth to silence the sob you so desperately want to let out. 

Ushijima steps closer until his legs brush against yours. His body is stiff as he lowers himself to the couch beside you. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No,” you quickly respond. “He um, he cheated on me.” 

It feels embarrassing to admit it for some reason. You’re half expecting your friend to laugh or provide a stoic, I told you so. But Ushijima just clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, jawline sharp and tense. 

You let out an awkward laugh, lightly nudging his arm. “But it’s fine. Sorry I scared you over something so silly.”

He doesn’t respond, not initially. He just stares, watching you patiently, silently until your resolve finally crumbles. Your lips part with a pathetic, strained cry as you force your face into your palms. You want to curl up, hide away from Ushijima’s intense gaze. Everything is too much.

It hurts again. 

“It’s not silly,” he barely grunts. It sounds as if his jaw is clenched while he’s speaking, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of his lap. A soft, forest green blanket is soon draped over your bodies as a large hand rubs circles against your back. 

“Everyone was right. I–.” 

He shushes your self depreciation before it begins, still brushing his warm hand over your back while his other arm pulls you impossibly close. 

“This is his fault. Not yours.” 

“It still hurts,” you sob against his shoulder. “It hurts so fucking much.”

“I know,” he whispers, tightening his hold on you. 

It hurts, but his warmth caresses you in a way that begins to ease the ache. He isn’t running away or telling you to get over it. He isn’t yelling at you for ruining his sweatshirt. He’s right there, calm, quiet, and soothing.

And just as you’re content to remain in that peaceful warmth until you fall asleep, he’s content to hold you until then. Because despite how absolutely furious he is, his worry is slowly melting away. No matter how much he wants to spike a volleyball at Terushima’s face, Ushijima is determined to hold you until you tell him to leave.

Maybe after, he thinks with one of his rare smirks. Definitely after. 

#haikyu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #angst with a hopeful ending #eventual smut #cheating trope #friends to lovers