#ride or die fanfiction

[monaownsmyass]

Reunion

Book: Ride-or-Die (2)

Pairing: Mona x MC (Ellie Wheeler)

Genre: ANGST (and just some general fluff)

Rating: PG13, Mona has a colourful vocabulary

Word Count: 3,930

A/N: So since we now know what was supposed to happen in Book 2, I HAD to write Mona reuniting with MC again for the first time in 5 years. The idea of them seeing each other after so long, the tension, mhmm! Since I'm working with the bare bones, I'm only guessing how most of the plot was suppose to go down. So if there's any plot holes in my own story, just ignore it :3

I never thought I'd be posting a fic again. And yet, here I am, years later writing for Mona cuz we were ROBBED of Book 2. I feel like I've come full circle cuz my very first fic was for Mona and I'm pretty sure this is gonna be my last. At least for a while. The last fic I posted was the last time I think I properly wrote anything so forgive me if I'm rusty, but anything for my baby Mona <3 Lmk whatcha think of this fic!

Ellie stared unblinkingly at the still face looking back at her from the screen. Her jaw clenched as her mind raced. Five years, it's been five years since she had seen her, five years since she's heard anything about her and there she was. And tomorrow, if everything goes to plan, she'll be right in front of Ellie. She'll actually be there, with her in the same physical space and not the one she had shared with her in her mind over the past half decade.

Just the thought alone was enough to make Ellie want to throw up, either from excitement or nervousness or both, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she had been imagining this moment constantly ever since she last saw her. Ellie always thought about what she would say, what she would do, but she could never quite figure out what that would be. And for the longest time, she thought it wouldn't matter. She thought she would never see her again.

Until now, that is.

Ellie inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath, trying to get her thoughts in order. But she never seemed to be able to whenever she looked into those sly brown eyes and at that infuriating smirk on that gorgeous face. It was no different now, apparently.

She slammed her laptop shut. She'll worry about it when she's there.

~.~

Ellie was hyperaware of everything around her. The heat emanating from her coffee into her palms, the espresso machine whirring, the music in the background, the grains of the wooden table.

Suddenly, she heard the shop doorbell ring and her heart fell to her stomach.

She just knew.

Ellie didn't turn to look, she just couldn't bear the weight of it. Instead, she heard, she felt.

She heard the familiar footsteps of boots walking towards her that awoke distant memories. She felt her eyes shut on its own accord. She heard a soft sound of curiosity coming from where the footsteps had stopped. She felt her heart drumming so hard in her chest, she could hear it in her ears. She felt a presence looming over her. She heard a hand slap against the metal backing of the chair across from her.

And then nothing.

Ellie slowly opened her eyes and gulped. When did her throat get so dry?

The first thing she saw was a perfectly manicured hand gripping the chair in front of her that lead up to a familiar fully tattooed arm. She forced her gaze upwards, finding it exceedingly difficult, feeling as if she was fighting against an invisible force, as if the more she dare to look up, the more her own eyes were denying her.

She took in the other hand resting against the waistband of dark pants. She noticed a black tank top covered by a black leather jacket and the way the necklaces worn rested against it. Her breath hitched and her heart stopped when her gaze finally met the one of the woman she had been dreaming of for 5 years now.

And goddamn, was she just as stunning as Ellie had remembered, even more so maybe.

"Mona," she softly breath out as if she was hoping it was true. The name sounded foreign yet familiar against her lips. Oh, how she had missed saying that name.

There Mona was, a hand on her hip and the other propping herself up by the chair, a brow raised and the corner of her lips quirked upwards, as if fighting a smile back. Her pretty brown eyes gazed down deeply into Ellie's and Ellie felt as if she was losing an unspoken uphill battle.

"Well, well, well," Mona whispered and Ellie nearly laughed in relief at being able to listen to her voice again. It was surreal. "If it isn't Ellie fucking Wheeler. Hello, princess."

~.~

The entire situation was so overwhelming for Ellie, she didn't know what to do with herself. She was between a constant push and pull state of fidgety and paralyzed. It was like a dream and a nightmare come true and Ellie wasn't even sure if she wanted to be woken up if it was one.

But it wasn't, and Ellie still wasn't sure what she'd say or do now that she was face to face with the woman that had been haunting her thoughts since she met her.

Ellie took in Mona who was now sitting opposite her. She was leaned back with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. Everything about her posture would suggest to Ellie that Mona was being standoffish. The only thing that was making her second guess herself were those damn eyes. Mona made no effort to hide the fact that her eyes were blatantly flickering up and down Ellie's form. They finally settled back on Ellie's and she swore she saw Mona's gaze soften just the tiniest bit. Ellie had no clue if she was assessing her as well or checking her out.

Despite her many psychology classes on body language and facial expressions, she still couldn't read Mona. She never had been able to. It was something that Ellie had appreciated every now and then, she liked that Mona kept her on her toes. But now wasn't one of those times.

"I didn't think you'd come," Ellie blurted out and finally broke the silence, not being able to stand the way Mona was looking at her anymore.

Mona cocked an eyebrow at her and shrugged a little. "It's not everyday I get a letter from a girl I took a bullet for 5 years ago. Had to see for myself." Ellie had no idea how to respond but she didn't need to because almost immediately after, Mona leaned in forward and glowered at her. "How did you find me?"

Mona was so near, Ellie could smell her perfume and she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her a bit heady. Ellie leaned back into her chair, feeling the need to put some space between the two of them. She saw the corners of Mona's lips twitch in a flash as she did.

Unlike Ellie, Mona always could've read Ellie very much easily, probably even a bit too easily.

Ellie shut her eyes tight, trying to think of an easy, gentle way to break the news to Mona. There was no easy, gentle way.

"Look, Mona," she sighed and looked up at her. "I was hoping to warm you up a little before I jump into it but since you asked...," Ellie drifted off and paused for a moment to try and figure out the best way to phrase her next sentence. "I'm working with the FBI and I need your help."

Just as Ellie had predicted, Mona was mad. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair and leaned in even closer to Ellie, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"What the fuck, Ellie?!" Mona whispered angrily, her voice low. "If you're working with the cops, then you know that I fucking broke out of prison, right? You're basically leading them back to me!"

"Mona, listen," Ellie leaned forward and placed a hand on Mona's, not knowing how else to reassure her. It was a mistake, Ellie's breath hitched being so close to her. Both their eyes flickered down at their hands before meeting each other's again. Mona jaw unclenched just the slightest bit and didn't pull away so Ellie continued. "They agreed to clear your remaining offenses and even your criminal record if you cooperate with them."

Mona finally pulled her hand away and she folded her arms again, leaning back into her seat. Ellie leaned back as well, thankful for a way out. She knew she was on the verge of doing something stupid.

Mona considered what Ellie had told her. "What makes you think I want that? If you're working for the pigs you'd know that I'm still involved."

"I'm working with them, not for them," Ellie corrected. "And from what rumors I heard, your current situation is more of a necessity than a want, it's transactional."

Ellie looked at Mona expectantly. If she was honest, she was hoping Mona would fill in the gaps for her because that was all she knew. She hadn't gotten any details. Instead, Mona asked, "Why are you working with them, anyway?"

"There's a heist crew that Logan was in that obtained list of important informants and the FBI thinks I can help 'cuz I have ties with him."

"And where do I fit into this?" Mona questioned, unamused.

"Your current... involvement... appears to have connections to them, so we need your help to gather intel," Ellie put it plainly, no point sugarcoating it and wrapping it up in a pretty bow, especially since she knew Mona would appreciate the directness more.

"Hm," Mona squinted at Ellie and Ellie tried her best to maintain composure which was proving to be very hard in Mona's presence. "Very bold of you to assume I'd risk my neck by going behind the backs of one of the most dangerous crime families just to helps out a bunch of cops. Very stupid, but very bold too. I'm not sure if I'm impressed or disappointed."

Ellie couldn't help but grin. It was the most Mona-like thing she had said and just for a little while, it felt like old times. She decided to push her luck a little further. "Can you... is it okay if you explain to me why you're with them?"

Mona glared at Ellie and then let out a huff, running her fingers through her hair, clearly frustrated. Ellie just watched in silence, unsure what to make of it.

"After all this time and you still can make me want to talk, it's embarrassing," she mumbled and Ellie had to strain to listen to her. Ellie felt her heartbeat start to pick up again at Mona's words. "I'll make it quick. Escaped prison, cops chased, crime family protect, work for them, safe from cops." She gestured with her hand lazily, explaining with complete disinterest as if she's told this story a million times which was ironic since this was probably the first time she told this to anyone.

"Well, think about it this way," Ellie had offered in response after taking some time to ponder. "If you help the FBI, you'll help bust them and clear your offenses, which means you'll be free, Mona."

Ellie could practically see the gears turning in Mona's head, or more like, she could practically see her weighing out the pros and cons on a scale. Mona's eyes flitted from staring at her table up to meet Ellie's and Ellie forced herself not too look away, daring to challenge Mona to accept her offer.

Mona sighed and unfolded her arms to gesture with her hands. "It's a very tempting offer, believe me."

"But?"

"But there's a reason they're the biggest crime family," Mona said in a hushed yet hurried tone. "If they haven't gotten caught for this long, I doubt me throwing a wrench in their plans and schemes would do jackshit!"

Mona was frustrated, but Ellie could tell it was more so about her situation than at Ellie which kept Ellie at least a little calm for now.

"Not to mention, law enforcement fucking sucks, I don't exactly trust them to catch every single member."

Mona's eyebrows furrowed and her lips were set in a displeased line, the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth prominent with her scowling. Ellie found herself missing it.

"I know, I know you're not their biggest fan and I know what I'm asking of you-"

"NO!" Mona slammed her palm against the table, not loud enough to attract unwanted attention but that didn't stop Ellie from jumping in her seat at her sudden outburst. "I don't think you realise exactly what you're asking me to do, princess," she spat out the nickname venomously and Ellie fought hard not to flinch.

"Mona-"

"Listen, I took a bullet for you, I went to fucking prison for you. You get in touch with me again after all this years only to ask me to die for you." Mona paused and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. Ellie watched in silence for a moment, her heart beating a mile a minute in realisation.

"You're right, I didn't think of it like that, I'm sorry." Mona snorted but Ellie continued. "But that's not the only reason I wanted to get in touch with you, I promise."

Mona opened her eyes and looked at Ellie. Ellie could sense she was trying to read her expression, decide if she was being sincere. She was.

It was quiet for a moment.

Mona crossed her legs at the knees and leaned forward. Ellie could see the anger in her expression dissipate into subtle smugness. Mona whispered, "What's the other reason then?"

There it was. Ellie knew Mona knew just from the slight pull of her upper lip and the way she was gazing at her with such intent. Over the past 5 years, Ellie had so much she wanted to say to Mona. Far too much to condense into a one sentence answer, but she tried anyway by saying, "I missed you, Mona."

"After all this time, and you still haven't learnt to save yourself." Mona let out a short, soft chuckle and shook her head. She stood up and tugged at the collars of her jacket, fixing it before shoving her hands in her pockets and turning around.

"Where are you going?" Ellie stood up in alarm, dumbfounded by Mona's actions.

Mona turned to face Ellie again, shrugging slightly. "I have to go, I came here on borrowed time."

"Will you consider it? At least?" Ellie was pleading at this point, but mostly because she knew if Mona said no, this would be the last time she saw her. She was very desperate for it to not be.

"I'll find you," Mona said and started to walk away again.

Ellie sighed softly, relieved that she's got Mona's word that she'll at least hear from her. But Ellie couldn't help herself, she had to ask, she had to know.

"Did you miss me?"

Mona stopped and and turned her head to the side to quickly glance at Ellie at the corner of her eye over her shoulder. She faced head on again and exhaled, as if the question itself exhausted her.

"I haven't learnt either. If I did, I wouldn't be here."

Mona walked away and left Ellie standing there speechless, mind and heart racing.

~~TIME CUT~~

Ellie looked around cautiously as she walked down the dingy back alley. Only a singular, dim streetlamp illuminated the street. Every small sound or movement caused Ellie to whip her head around in it's direction.

Leave it to Mona to pick the most unsavoury, suspicious place at the darkest hour of the night to want to meet up.

All of a sudden, she spotted a car headed in her direction. The headlights so bright, it temporarily blinded Ellie. She would've ran if she didn't catch a glimpse of the familiar purple of the car in the midst of being rendered sightless.

The car stopped right beside her and the door popped open to reveal Mona looking expectedly at her.

"Well, c'mon, get in."

"Mona! You still have your car?"

She rolled her eyes. "Questions later, get in now."

Ellie silently obeyed. As soon as she slammed the door shut, Mona sped off, leaving Ellie clumsily grabbling for her seatbelt. She managed to click it into place before turning to Mona who had a smirk on her face.

Mona looked at ease as always behind the wheel. Leaned back in her seat with one hand on the steering and the other on the shift stick, Mona was definitely in her element. And definitely looked hotter driving than Ellie remembered.

"Not used to the speed anymore, princess?"

"It's been a while," Ellie reminded and looked out the passenger's window, watching the buildings whip past them. "Some things never change though."

Mona drove in silence, not even humming along to the hip-hop music she had playing on the radio. Ellie cleared her throat and decided to speak up. "So, are you accepting the offer?"

"We'll talk later." Mona looked at Ellie briefly before averting her eyes back on the road.

Ellie looked around outside, roughly recognising their surroundings but not exactly being able to place her finger on it.

"Mona, where are we going?"

"You don't remember?" Mona quirked an eyebrow at her as they pull into an open area where a bunch of cars were parked. A video was projected onto a huge display screen right at the front. Ellie's eyes lit up in realisation.

"The drive-in theatre! The one we came to with Mercy Park Crew!"

"The one and only," Mona confirmed as she put her car into park and pulled the hand break up. "Literally."

She pulled the lever of her chair and leaned so far back, she was almost laying down. She raised both hands behind her head and stared at the projection in front of them.

Bewildered at Mona, Ellie's brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at her. "What are you doing? What are we doing?"

"We're watching a movie, duh," Mona replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mona was being difficult, Ellie had enough experience with her to at least know that. And lucky for her, she also had enough experience to know how to annoy Mona into talking.

Mustering up the most gushy and enthusiastic voice she could, she said, "Aww, Monaaaa!" Ellie grabbed Mona's knee and Mona looked at her, with both brows raised, clearly confused and maybe even looking a little weirded out by her sudden change in tone. "If you wanted to take me on a date you could've just said so!"

"Pft! A date?" Mona sputtered, taken aback. "You wish, princess."

"What is it then? Are you feeling sentimental?" Ellie cooed and Mona lightly slapped her hand away, the one that was on her knee.

"Hah! Definitely not."

"It's okay if you are, it's actually so cute of you."

Mona gasped and sat up straight as if it was the most offensive thing to mankind.

"I am not cute," she glared at Ellie and Ellie fought hard to hide her bubbling laughter.

"Then what is it?"

"Fine!" Mona threw her hands up in defeat. "I just wanted to relax before we got down to business but since this is so much more stressful let's just talk now." Mona leaned back against her seat and motioned Ellie to copy her seat position.

Ellie smiled to herself as she adjusted her seat lever. "Why are we leaning back?"

"'Cuz it's less suspicious. Also it's more comfortable."

"So," Ellie turned to face Mona. "Why are we here?"

"Because, we needed a private place to talk in public at 9 p.m. and this was what I thought of. They have eyes and ears everywhere, this is the safest bet." Mona looked at Ellie. "I need to know the exact terms of this agreement before I give my answer."

"Yes, yes, of course," Ellie replied eagerly, hopefully that Mona was considering the offer.

"I will be exempted for all my crimes, correct?"

"Yes."

"And my record will be a clean slate?"

Ellie nodded.

"The leak must be anonymous, the gang won't know the mole was me. And I don't want the FBI to be tailing my every move either."

"Okay, that can be done."

"While working with them, I want the FBI's word that I'm under their protection and I get full immunity. I know it'll get messy. I need all of it in writing."

Ellie saw a flicker of emotions pass Mona's face. They both knew how dangerous this proposition was for Mona. Ellie gentle placed her hand on Mona's thigh and Mona stiffen at the soft contact, not daring to even look at it.

"I'll be with you the whole way, Mona. I promise, I-"

"Don't," Mona interrupted, sounding pained almost. "How many times must I tell you. We don't do promises, we don't do loyalty. It's each man for themselves, if you need to run, you run."

Ellie was quiet, letting out a shaky breath and squeezing Mona's thigh. Mona finally looked down at the contact and winced as if she was hurt, as if she could tell what Ellie was going to say next.

"And yet, you're still here."

Mona stared deep into Ellie's eyes, her gaze so intense it was hypnotising.

"I'll do it," Mona said softly. "I'm in."

Relief washed over her. Ellie smiled a little a nodded. As she did, a strand of hair came loose and fell in her face. As if on reflex, Mona's hand came up to brush the hair away, tucking it behind Ellie's ear. The gentle touch of Mona's fingers against her face made her sigh in contentment. Ellie had missed Mona's touch so much, she thought she could cry. It felt like an oasis after years of being parched.

Ellie thought Mona would pull her hand away, but she didn't. Instead, she let it rest on Ellie's cheek. Mona's warm hand cupped Ellie's cheek and Ellie leaned into it. She closed her eyes, reveling in the comfort and familiarity of it after 5 years. She moved her hand that was resting on Mona's thigh up her wrist, holding Mona's hand there, afraid Mona will move, afraid of missing the contact. But she didn't move. Instead, she whispered her name.

"Ellie."

Ellie's name coming out of Mona's mouth sounded so intimate, so precious. Ellie opened her eyes and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Mona staring back at her. She had never seen Mona look at her like that before. She looked soft, conflicted, as if she was fighting back. Ellie's lips parted and she noticed Mona's gaze look down at her mouth.

"Mona."

Ellie breathe her name out slowly, a praise, a hope, a gift. Silently wishing Mona would do what she'd been dreaming of for the past half decade. She was so close to getting what she wanted- no, what she needed. The touch, the gaze, the shallow breathes, it was all too much to handle. Ellie was ready to burst out of her skin, it was all too overwhelming.

"Fuck," Mona cursed, her resolve crumbling. She leaned into Ellie while pulling her closer as well. Their lips met halfway in a gasp and Ellie arms immediately wrapped around Mona's neck, her fingers playing with the baby hair on the nape of her neck. Mona moved her free arm around Ellie's waist and securely held her close.

Ellie could help but whimper at how good it felt to be in Mona's arms again, to be kissing her and holding her and savouring her. She had waited years to be able to do this again and it was beyond what she had hoped. She had forgotten how good Mona felt, she almost laughed at how she ever wondered why no one else could make her feel even a fraction of what Mona did. How could they when Mona made her feel like this.

Their lips moved in tandem and their grips on each other tightened. Even though Ellie had been waiting for so long for this, it was hard to believe any time had even passed between them with how in sync they were with each other.

Mona moaned softly into Ellie's mouth when she grabbed Mona's hair in her fist. Mona reluctantly pulled away and rested her forehead against Ellie's. Their hold on each other never ceasing as they tried to catch their breath.

Ellie felt delirious, she thought she would ascend at any moment. Mona softly brushed her thumb against her cheek. Ellie hummed softly at the touch and turned just the slightest bit to kiss the palm of Mona's hand. Mona sighed.

"I can't believe I'm still here."

#mona my beloved how I miss you #mona x mc #mona rod #mona choices #mona fanfiction #mona fanfic #mona #mona rod2 #ride or die #ride or die 2 #ride or die choices #ride or die 2 choices #rod #rod choices #rod2 #rod2 choices #rod mona #ride or die fanfic #ride or die fanfiction #rod fanfic #rod fanfiction #ride or die 2 fanfic #ride or die 2 fanfiction #rod2 fanfic #rod2 fanfiction #mona x mc fanfic #mona x mc fanfiction #choices #choices: stories you play #pb

[choicesficwriterscreations]

2022 Fic Masterlist for Ride or Die

August 2022

New Beginnings: A Choices Prompt Story | Logan x F!MC - @angelasscribbles

September 2022

From Lovers to Strangers | Colt Kaneko x MC - @missameliep

#ride or die fanfic #ride or die fanfiction #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

[flowercrowngods]

the prompt: rest | rating: G | cw: non-explicit trauma-related insomnia

The steady thrum of the engine is like gentle white noise that not only fills Eddie’s head and smoothes out the frayed edges of consciousness, but runs through his whole body as a comforting presence. It spreads from the hands holding the wheel in a loose, easy grip up his arms and to his shoulders, down his chest where it settles in his gut. That feeling of belonging, of comfort, of familiarity. It leaves him with a smile as he shifts the gear, accelerating a little on the open street.

No one else is out here tonight, and there’s no destination ahead, but his goal has long since been reached.

Part of him wants to roll down the window to feel the breeze in his hair, allow November in just for five minutes, just for the duration of this next song.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone?

But he won’t, because this moment is not his.

He glances over to the side, catches the split second where the passing street lights make Steve glow golden, his breath even, his face relaxed. His eyes closed, his forehead void of pained frowns. He’s been asleep for an hour.

It mends something inside him, seeing Steve like this, but something splinters all the same.

“What do you need? What can I give you? Please, Steve, you need to sleep. You deserve to rest.”

He remembers asking, tears welling up in his eyes and desperation clawing at his insides, clawing to get out and tear at Steve, tear at him to find out what it is that Eddie can do.

“Can we just— Drive? For a while?”

“Where to?”

“Nowhere, just… Might help.”

And it did. It does.

It’s been a few months now, and sometimes it’s Wayne who takes Steve — or both of them — on a ride to lull him to sleep with a steady engine and a tape that Vecna never touched.

And every time, Steve wakes the second the car stops. But it’s fine, because he’ll smile, he’ll say, “Thank you”, he’ll say, “I love you,” and he’ll lie on Eddie’s chest for the rest of the night, listening to the steady thrum of his heart while Eddie hums a quiet melody until Steve is asleep again.

written for @steddiemicrofic, dedicated to @auroraplume because i can 🤍🌷

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #steddie microfic #hi reese this is for you idk #🤍 #i wish i could enjoy car rides again. especially at night and with music. unfortunately my intrusive thoughts get in the way #they get really really bad and i don’t wanna watch people die anymore but the concept is still nice so here 🥺 #dio words #dio’s steddie ramblings

[howlyourmelancholy]

Like A Virgin

summary: she was a virgin. and he wasn't. sirius have a reputation. oh, merlin, did he had a reputation.

pairing: young!sirius x ofc (Emalia)

warnings: loss of virginity. fingering. oral (fem receiving). heavy making-out. unprotected sex. multiple orgasms.

words: 7.8k

a/n: emalia is my own original character. please keep in mind that these characters are portrayed at sixteen years old, the age of consent in my country. this got away from me and ended up a bit longer than intended. i hope you enjoy!

It was just past midday when the rumble of a motorcycle disturbed the peace of the day. It was an out-of-the-ordinary sound for the neighbourhood, one that enticed people to open their doors or peek through windows to investigate with judgmental stares. Emalia smiled to herself, knowing precisely who it was that had come visiting, and made her way downstairs.

Sirius Black.

He knocked, and she opened the door without hesitation. With a single brow lofted and arms crossed against her chest, she leaned against the door frame, preventing him from entering. Emalia peered up at him with a patient and playful gleam in her soft blue eyes.

"Hey, Ema." He had a voice like melted chocolate, all smooth, deep, and delectable, even when he wasn't intending it to be. His charisma was effortless and magnetic. But if she wasn't mistaken, he sounded a little bit sheepish, almost as though he was apologetic for not having called ahead. It hadn't bothered her. His presence was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Get this: James and Lily are on a date." She nodded, indicating she had already known. There wasn't much she and Lily didn't share given that they were best friends, and it was to be expected that the redhead had told her about their upcoming date. "And Peter and Remus are busy with 'family affairs', whatever that means."

She cracked a smile but didn't say anything. She just continued smiling sweetly and patiently up at him, still not making a move to allow him inside. He either didn't notice or didn't care because he went on.

"I am bored out of my skull at home, and I figured you were free and that I'd come around. So, can I come in?"

There it was, the reason for his out-of-the-blue visit—he was bored.

This wasn't surprising to hear. Sirius was a social creature; he liked being around others and was only alone when it suited him. It hadn't even bothered her that he would assume she was free and come over unannounced. After what happened last year, when her mother passed away and she struggled to come to terms with it, she and Sirius had grown closer.

He had become a constant presence in her life, where once he had just been Remus' friend. But he had been there, impulsive and reckless, when she pushed everyone away. He helped drive away her sorrows with his silly jokes and ridiculous behaviour, and he was there to comfort her when it became too much to handle. She'd lost count of how many times he had held her as she cried.

"Of course you can, Sirius. I just wanted to see how long you'd wait to ask," she said with a laugh. The sound was light and carefree, unlike anything she had done a year ago. She stepped aside to make room for him to pass, and she closed the door when he had done so. Her father, Alberic, wasn't home, but he knew Sirius well enough that she didn't think he would be bothered by the visit.

"I was just getting ready, actually. Lily and I are going to a high tea after their date." Emalia made certain the door was locked before turning back to him and motioning for him to follow her.

"So, a tea party." Sirius joked as he followed her upstairs. She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he teased her.

"No. It's a high tea. You know what that is, Sirius."

"A fancy tea party then." He went on as he took a seat at the end of her bed. Emalia was seated in front of a vanity; it was matte black with a large mirror and looked out of place in her bedroom. He wondered, just for a moment, if it had belonged to her mother. "Besides, you look pretty much ready to me."

"I need to finish my hair, then put on my heels, and I haven't decided what perfume to wear, so I'm not really. You'll just have to sit and watch, won't you?"

He laughed at her playful banter and watched her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was serious as she pulled a brush through her raven-black hair without too much difficulty. Every now and then, he saw the corner of her mouth twist in discomfort as she worked a knot loose.

After a few minutes, maybe five or so, he started counting the strokes, and when he reached thirty, he chuckled. It was a deep sound, reverberating from the middle of his chest. Emalia stopped and was staring towards the mirror, brush still held in hand, brows drawn together in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that I've watched you brush your hair about thirty times now. I think you're done, Ema."

He saw the worried expression soften in the mirror and cracked a small smile.

"I'll only be a few more minutes, then I'll give you some attention, Pads."

"You know, I'm pretty sure I could run my fingers through your hair and it wouldn't get tangled; you've brushed it that much."

It was this comment that made her thoughts pause as she looked over her shoulder at him. If it had been any other woman, he would have thought the look she gave him was purposely seductive, but not Ema; no, she wasn't that kind of person. But maybe he was mistaken because the way she was smiling at him made him swallow hard.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you're flirting with me, Mister Black. Maybe even trying to seduce me." Her tone was soft, like a whisper, as she gave him a playful wink. It wasn't unusual for them to poke fun at each other; the occasional flirty comment or sarcastic remark that might have led to hurt feelings if they hadn't been so close. Emalia wasn't a flirt like him, though he knew she had had boyfriends in the past.

But knowing that didn't stop his thoughts from racing to a hundred different scenarios.

"And if I was?" He replied with a sudden seriousness in his deep voice.

Emalia didn't need to see him to hear the challenge in his words. Her face flushed a soft pink, and she quickly looked away, but he saw it in the mirror's reflection.

"Is it working?"

She didn't answer; she couldn't find her voice to do so.

Sure, she had thought about him that way; she had fantasised about how his hands would feel on her body, touching her and pleasuring her, his fingers wrapped in the heat of her core. She had even touched herself on more than one occasion, imagining it was him. His name was often a heaven's prayer on her lips as pleasure swept through her body, leaving her breathless and wanting more. But those thoughts had been buried deep down, hidden alongside the ones about Remus.

He was her friend; they all were—as thick as thieves, James would always say. Emalia had never been willing to risk their incredible friendship for anything. Not love, not sex, not anything. But she would have been lying if she said she wasn't tempted.

With a gentle sigh, she placed the brush down and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. She laughed softly and shook her head. He was teasing her again. He always did this.

"You are a dork, Sirius." The words came out halfheartedly as she stood and took a step towards the wardrobe. But he caught her by the wrist before she had taken even two steps and pulled her back towards him.

Surprised by this, she stumbled around, only to have him catch her.

It all happened so fast.

One moment she was standing, and the next she was practically straddling his lap. Her hands were on his shoulders now, clutching at him for balance, a knee resting on the mattress beside his thigh. His hands had settled on the swell of her hips, firm, warm, and strong. And then, without warning, he shifted, pulled her down onto the mattress, and held her there.

Emalia made a startled squeak but otherwise didn't resist him. She was too surprised by his bold behaviour to protest. And, if she were to be honest with herself, she had fantasised about situations exactly like this a few too many times before. She had imagined how his body would feel nestled between her thighs, what he would do when she was naked beneath him, and how he would kiss her, touch her, and love her.

One of his arms was around the small of her back, the other propping him up on an elbow. She was staring up at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted, and her fingertips digging into his shoulders as he hovered over her like some falling shadow.

Sirius was between her legs, making her skirt ride up her thighs, and he was breathing deeply, evenly, and calmly. His breath was washing over her mouth and nose like sickly sweet rum—it made her head swim.

"Is it working?" He repeated the question, his voice dropping an octave so that a shiver ran down her spine. Emalia still couldn't find her voice to answer him; she couldn't stop her heart from going into overdrive or the moisture pooling at her core.

His denim trousers rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as she shifted beneath him. The ends of his long, inky black hair tickled her cheeks as he stared down at her. She could feel him staring at her, watching her, waiting for an answer.

Her tongue slipped out from behind her teeth to slowly lick her lips. He watched this with a smirk and enjoyed when she chewed nervously on her lower lip. Her chest was rising and falling, brushing against his each time, and her ebony hair was sprawled around her on the bed like the night sky.

"That depends." Emalia finally answered, her voice barely a whisper.

She couldn't deny her feelings. She wanted this—she wanted him.

Sirius leaned closer, pressing more firmly against her, stroking his nose softly against hers.

"Hrm?"

"Are you going to kiss me or not?"

He didn't answer, not verbally.

Instead, he kissed her, as was requested of him. His lips touched hers gently at first, soft and warm, moving slowly and testing the waters, but when she released the breath she had been holding and kissed him back, it was game on.

Sirius deepened the kiss, chasing her taste. Vanilla. He could taste it on her lips. Her lip gloss tasted like vanilla and sweet almonds. It was a delicious combination, and he found that he couldn't get enough of it.

He had plenty of experience in these situations and was deep in his element, so he took the lead without question. He parted his lips and swept his tongue against her plump lower lip, requesting permission. This made her head swim and made her moan softly into the kiss. Emalia parted her lips, then his tongue delved into her mouth without hesitation. He tasted like cigarette smoke and danger, pure rebellion, drowning her senses in him.

She moaned again, louder this time. Emalia shifted beneath him to wrap an arm around the back of his neck and pull him closer. His fingers trailed fire across her back as he pulled his arm from beneath her and spread it along her ribs. Sirius pushed against her, rolling his hips against hers, his arousal evident, straining against his jeans.

His mouth was making her delirious, and her head was swimming with pleasure because of it. Sirius was like fire, scorching her skin with his touch and searing her mind with his gentleness. And she was like putty in his hands—inexperienced, innocent, and all too willing to learn.

His hand trailed up her body, from her hip to her ribs, before settling over a breast that was just a little bit too big to fit in his palm. He could feel her nipple through her clothes, hardening as he ran his thumb against it. It was begging to be freed, begging to be sucked.

Emalia said his name in a quiet plea when the kiss was broken for a much-needed breath. He kissed her from her chin to her neck, stopping to suck here and there, leaving little red marks in his wake. She was writhing beneath him, pushing her hips against his, pushing her breast into his hand.

She still had an arm around his neck, and now the other had a fistful of his hair. Her fingers were buried deep in his thick locks, and she tugged on them roughly, making him growl as she dragged his mouth back to hers. Emalia was breathing heavier now, faster and harder, and her knickers were wet with excitement as their tongues touched and twirled together.

Sirius drew her lip between his teeth, biting it gently, and gave her breast a firm squeeze before moving his hand down her body. He enjoyed the way she writhed beneath him, how she kissed him with urgency, and how she moaned his name each time he did something new.

His hand reached her thigh, which was now curled against his hip. And then it drifted back up, beneath her skirt this time. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch and prickled with goosebumps. His fingers found the band of her knickers, curled around the cotton fabric, and tugged them down.

It was then that Emalia made a noise. The sound was somewhere between protest and panic. Her hand left his hair and found his beneath her skirt. Small fingers encircled his wrist and held tightly to halt his explorations. He could have kept going—he knew that, she knew that, but he was as still as stone.

She was panting and staring up with lust-filled eyes that were wide with uncertainty once again. The last virgin of their group—even Peter had finally gotten some now that he was dating that pretty Ravenclaw girl he was so keen on. This thought made him smile. She was so eager but so unsure.

"We should go out first. To dinner or something."

Her words were like a sledgehammer shattering a panel of glass—sudden and unexpected. Sirius was struck silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. So she wanted to be wooed first. He could do that.

He kissed her without warning. Hard, slowly, thoroughly, just because he could. It made her moan and made her toes curl.

"Yeah, let's do that."

"Sirius."

"Emalia."

The warning in her tone had him grinning from ear to ear—not that she could see it, but she could certainly hear it in the sound of his laugh. Emalia shuffled along with an arm outstretched, feeling the way while he crowded behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he kept her eyes hidden behind his hands.

"I’m serious," she warned him again, this time trying to escape him. He'd blindfolded her the moment they arrived, his large hands covering her eyes, intent on not letting her ruin the surprise. Sirius hadn't told her when he would take her on a date, where he'd take her, or any other details.

And then one night he sent her a message, instructing her to dress nice and be ready by seven. Normally, she would have resisted his dominance and rebelled against his authority. But this time it made butterflies fill her stomach, making her nervous and excited, so that she had to squeeze her thighs shut to fight the ache between them.

He’d dressed nice—casual but nice. Dark denim jeans and big black combat boots. He had a leather jacket over a simple white tee and rings on at least half a dozen of his fingers. Emalia hadn't been able to hide the way her eyes moved up and down his body, taking in every detail of him, or the flush that had crept into her face when he caught her staring.

He had been equally transfixed when she opened the door. Her long ebony hair hung in loose curls down her shoulders, falling over a black blouse that was tucked into a red floral skirt, but his gaze remained on her feet. Six-inch heels, studded and strappy, towering, impossible to walk in, or so he thought.

Escaping him proved to be impossible. Sirius wrapped an arm around her waist—a tight band of muscles—as he lifted her, making her shriek in surprise. "No, you’re Ema. I’m Sirius." He chortled in response, and she could hear the tease in his words and feel the laughter vibrating through his chest and against her back. "Now behave; we’re almost there."

She was laughing in spite of how he carried her as though she weighed nothing, unhindered by the way she wriggled in his grasp. "Put me down, you buffoon!"

He didn't, not until they reached the entrance. He held onto her as her heels sank into the snow, keeping a hand on her hip and her back pressed against his chest.

He watched her face as she stared in awe at the winter wonderland before them. The ice rink had been decorated with wreaths of twinkling lights and fresh snow, and the ice was beautifully illuminated by those very same lights along with the moonlight glow. There were a couple of booths selling snow cones, hot chocolate, and other treats. There was a distinct chill in the air.

Emalia looked at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile on her lips. The lights reflected in her soft blue eyes in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. "Sirius, this is so lovely."

He frowned. "But?"

"I can’t skate very well," she admitted quietly, not wanting to ruin his surprise. "Or at all, actually."

He grinned in response, his shoulders dropping as the tension bled out of them, and suddenly he could breathe again. Sirius narrowed his eyes playfully. "It’s alright, angel. I’ll show you." His arm snaked around her waist again, his palm pressing firmly against her stomach, fingers splayed possessively, the warmth of his palm penetrating straight to her core as he pulled her tight against him. "Besides, it gives me a reason to hold you like this."

"Oh, you need an excuse for that, hrm?"

"A reason. You give me plenty of those," he mused with a hum, his mouth ghosting over hers, swallowing the little gasp of surprise. She tasted like vanilla again, her soft pink lips parting under the dominance of his. Her eyes, his eyes, drifted shut. Her tongue slipped past her own lips to lick his lower one, softly and shyly, asking for or giving permission; he couldn't figure out which because his head was swimming.

It was only the shriek of someone falling on the ice that pulled them from the moment and reminded her that they were standing somewhere very public. Sirius noticed that her eyes were glossy when they opened, but she smiled at him sweetly and innocently, as though she had no idea what effect she had on him. Emalia tangled her fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of them wrapped around hers, which were cold as ice.

Sirius had always run hot like a furnace, the heat of him seemingly clinging to the air, chasing away the cold. She noticed that his fingers were calloused, just a little bit, probably from years of holding a bat and beating bludgers away from his teammates.

He didn’t object as she tugged him to the booth where they could rent their skates. He enjoyed the way she acted so bossy, calm, and confident while making small talk with the man attending the booth. Sirius laughed when she got her skates, a size seven, and Emalia retaliated by smacking the back of her hand against his chest.

Her shoe size shouldn’t have been surprising, and really, it wasn’t. It amused him that she wore such a small size in comparison to his ten and a half. Sirius was taller than her, which was an understatement, to say the least. If Emalia hadn’t been wearing those heels, he’d have been a foot taller than her, maybe more.

She was small, delicate, and fucking smart-mouthed.

Emalia watched how Sirius laced his skates, his fingers plucking at the laces with practised movements, no doubt from how often he’d had to lace up those combat boots. She followed his movements, pulling them tight around her ankles, making sure they were supported and that she wasn’t about to end up with a broken bone. And then she was following him to the rink, leaving behind her heels beside his boots, the sight of them drawing a chuckle from him that had her shooting him a warning glare.

Sirius marvelled at how she could walk in the skates with utter confidence, perched on them like a ballerina, until she stepped onto the ice. Then she was the polar opposite. Emaila stumbled and shivered from both the cold and nervousness, her expression one of tight-lipped concentration. She clutched at the railing, her arms shaking as she managed to catch herself when she slipped.

She didn’t talk to him. Didn’t even look at him. Instead, she was staring at her feet as she edged her way around the rink once, twice, and a third time.

Sirius was the complete opposite.

He moved with confidence and a natural swagger. The wind whipped at his hair as he whizzed past her, weaving in and out of the crowd, somehow avoiding colliding with them even though his attention was entirely on her. At times, he wasn’t even watching where he was going. After a while, he grew tired of watching.

Sirius skated towards her quickly, turning his skates at the last minute and finishing with a hockey stop, covering her legs in a spray of ice flakes. "You dog!" Emalia shouted with a glare, which only made the young man grin.

"What?" he barked out with a laugh, watching as she brushed the ice from her skirt, almost falling while doing so. "I needed to get your attention somehow. You seem pretty intent on that railing; should I be jealous?"

Emalia sneered at him. "That’s because someone took me to an ice skating rink. And as I recall, I've already told you I don't know how to skate."

"Here, let me show you," Sirius said, holding out a hand.

"I’m quite happy right here," she replied indignantly.

"Don’t you trust me?"

"Not on your life!"

That wasn’t entirely true. Emalia did trust him. She trusted that he would hold her close, that his hands would wander her body, and that his lips would steal the breath from her lungs. She trusted that he would tease her and keep her safe, but she didn’t trust him not to let her fall and be covered in snow and ice shavings as a joke.

Sirius drifted closer, not taking no for an answer. He caged her between his arms, his chest pressing firmly into her back, forcing her against the railing to prevent an escape. The warmth of him was immediate; it made her head spin and made her dizzy. She found herself leaning into him to chase away the cold.

He pried her small fingers from the railing one at a time, laughing against her shoulder, his warm breath wafting against her neck, making her shiver and squeeze her thighs together. She swatted at his hands, huffed out warnings and threats between laughs, and pushed against the rail and into his chest to create space for an escape. It was only as she moved to turn, stumbling as a skate slipped out from beneath her, that she gave up the fight.

Sirius caught her around the waist, an arm around the small of her back, the opposite hand grabbing her hip. He was laughing, and so was she, as he hauled her back to her feet. "Trust me, angel. I won’t let you fall."

She made a sound that was unladylike, indignant, and very unbelieving. Emalia held his forearms tightly, her manicured nails digging in, so he felt the pressure through the sleeves of his jacket. Sirius just grinned through it.

"Don’t look down," he instructed, his tone gentle as he moved slowly backward with just a little bit of momentum. "Watch me, Ema, and keep your back straight. If you tilt forward, your balance will be off." Sirius held her forearms firmly, staying about a foot away to avoid their skates coming together.

He towed her along slowly, encouraging her to match his stride and move with the opposite foot each time he moved. He praised her when she got it right, earning himself a coy little smile and her cheeks flushing a pretty pale pink. And when she stumbled, he caught her, soothing her and telling her it was alright.

They were both silent for a while. Emalia concentrated on her footwork, her hold on him tightening a few times when she stumbled before finding a rhythm that worked for her.

"You know," she said softly, still staring down at her feet while struggling to keep her balance. Sirius captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. For a moment, she stared at him with pretty doe eyes, curious, nervous, and wanting. She licked her lips. "I don’t think I ever thanked you."

His brow furrowed. "For what?"

And he generally couldn’t think of what she might be thanking him for. He thought it was plain as day that he was enjoying himself on this date. Emalia was pleasant company—polite and sweet, undeniably sassy and smart-mouthed, which he found amusing.

It wasn't that he'd never considered dating her. She was an attractive young woman and had had her fair share of boyfriends and would-be suitors. But Sirius had made it a general rule to steer clear of his friends', the important ones anyway.

"I don't know," she laughed, her gaze wavering from his for a second before returning. The smile on her mouth was sweet but sad, and it plucked at the strings of his heart. He hadn’t seen that smile in a while, not since her mother had passed away and she’d tried to put on a brave face for the world. He hated it as much now as he did then.

"For everything you do. I don’t think I ever thanked you, Sirius. You stuck around even after I said those terrible things. Even when I pushed all of you away. Everything was so heavy, and you shouldered so much for me, and I don’t remember saying thank you. Or apologising."

"You were grieving, angel. You've got a free pass to be a little bitchy," he said, his hand moving to her hair and stroked it. He let the silken strands run through his fingers, marvelling over how, as he predicted, he could run them through her hair without it getting tangled. He smiled at her, gentle and reassuring. "Besides, that’s what friends are for, right? Staying around when things go to hell."

His words warmed her heart and plunged a knife into it at the same time.

Emalia was grateful to have him as a dear friend. She was so completely appreciative of everything he had done for her, how he had helped her and her family. He’d been so kind to her mother while she was confined to the hospital, lifting her spirits and making her laugh every time the doctors had bad news. But in that moment, she didn’t want a friend; she wanted more.

She was the one who moved first.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and her lips melded against his, plump and warm, clumsy and desperate. The sound of their skates clacking together erupted between them as he hauled her closer to deepen the kiss.

His fingers burrowed deep in her hair, his cold nose gliding against hers as he tilted her head back, giving himself better access to her parting lips. The other hand held her hip, fingers pressing in firmly, feeling her curves. They were warm, spreading fire through her blood as it rushed through her veins, igniting an ache that spread from her belly and down into her hips.

The world had fallen away until it was just the two of them, clinging together like star-crossed lovers. They drifted gently on the ice, carried by his confident skill. Sirius felt her tremble against him, leaning desperately into his kiss. Her hands glided up his body, burrowing into the thicket of tresses at the back of his neck, drawing him in deeper, and he was lost in her—the smell of her shampoo, the taste of her chapstick—utterly and hopelessly lost.

He pressed his palm into the small of her back, bringing her flush against him, the other clutching at the back of her head to control their kiss. His teeth nipped at her lower lip and sucked it between his lips, and she couldn’t help but whimper.

It was that sound that brought the night careening back to reality.

Sirius pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. He kept her close, kept his hand in her hair, and kept his lips brushing against her. Their eyes half-opened and met. His hand stroked down her back, feeling her shivering, hearing her whimper, and feeling her lips open against his mouth for another needy kiss that he happily obliged in giving her.

"Sirius." Her voice was shaking, barely a whisper above the conversations around them. He felt her words rather than heard them. He bit back a groan when she bit his lip. "Take me home."

The two of them arrived on the porch of her family’s estate in record time. Her back slammed against the mahogany door as he pinned her to it, the force enough to make the hinges rattle. Emalia gasped into his mouth, caught off guard as a whisper of pain shot up her spine, only to be forgotten a second later when his hands splayed possessively at her hips.

She buried her fingers in his hair, taking a fistful to hold his mouth to hers, making him growl as his scalp was tinged with a pleasurable sort of pain. Sirius felt her nails scraping at his shirt, clawing their way down his chest before curling around his belt. With his hand hooked under the bend of her knee, he hitched her leg over the curve of his hip, allowing himself to paint his body firmly against hers.

His hips trudged against hers, strong, dominant, and rough; his cock was already hard and straining in his jeans, and she couldn’t help but use the hold of his belt to pull him closer. Emalia kissed him desperately and deliriously, her lips parting to welcome his tongue into the warmth of her mouth as he started to work his hands beneath her skirt.

Her legs turned to jelly when he took her arse in his hands, squeezing it as he ground his hips against hers so that she could feel his erection through the layers of their clothes. And then she was pushing his hands away so that she could turn towards the door.

Sirius did not stop as she fumbled with the doorknob.

"You taste so sweet," he said, his voice gravelly with lust. Sirius’ lips were warm as he kissed her neck, leaving little wisps of fire licking at her skin as he sank his pearly whites into the junction of her shoulder just hard enough to elicit a little gasp.

"Inside," she managed to gasp out, her voice trembling, "we need to get inside." Sirius silenced her with a kiss, their teeth knocking awkwardly together because of the angle, but neither minded. Emalia arched her back instinctively to allow their lips better contact, desperate to taste more of him, her arse pressing hard against his aching cock.

His hands found their way beneath her blouse, palms rough and like molten lava against her skin. He was pleasantly surprised to discover her bra unclasped at the front. He made quick work of it, her breasts freed to his wandering hands. Sirius cupped the weight of them in his palms, enjoying their soft warmth and the way her nipples hardened into peaks when he rolled them between his fingers.

It was a miracle Emalia got the door opened before they started stripping. Together, they tumbled inside—a tangle of limbs, heavy breaths, and hot kisses. It was followed by fumbling up the stairs when the kissing didn’t stop, and then they were naked on her bed and the nervousness was bleeding back into her veins.

Emalia watched him undress and, for a moment, was utterly terrified of how badly this was going to hurt. Especially with how... big he was.

And it all came racing back to her.

She was a virgin.

And he wasn’t.

Sirius had a reputation. Oh, Merlin, did he have a reputation.

Emalia had heard their schoolmates whispering about him in the back of the library. The girls talked about the delicious stretch of his fingers when he was fingering them. Or the wickedness of his mouth and how they could taste themselves on his tongue after he had gone down on them.

And it was those same girls who talked about his size—how he was above average with an impressive girth that sometimes made it uncomfortable for a few days after being with him.

She had heard the rumours; some nights he was soft and sweet, gently rocking his hips until his lover climaxed with a soft moan. Other nights, he was wild and untamed, rutting into them from behind until they couldn’t think straight.

And knowing all of this made her incredibly nervous. It made her heart stammer in her chest so hard that it might break through her breastbone, but it did not make her stop him when he started to move down her body.

"Is this okay?" Sirius whispered against her neck, his breath balmy against her sweat-slicked skin. His stormy eyes had closed, and his lips skimmed over her racing pulse and to the hollow of her throat. He took her hips into his hands, his fingertips biting into her skin just a little too much as he waited for her answer. She could feel his cock pressing against her thigh, feel how hard and big he was, and shuddered with anticipation. 

Emalia whimpered in response and nodded in approval. Sirius was magnetic, and she found she could not deny him. He was fire—chaotic and beautiful—and she was a moth to his flame.

Sirius nipped at her racing pulse, making her gasp out loud. He immediately laved his tongue over the hickey to take the sting from it. The delicious combination of pleasure and pain had her mind blurry with lust and her core clenching.

She felt so vulnerable, like he was going to eat her alive.

And she wanted desperately to satisfy his hunger.

Sirius took his time, as though he had all night for the young woman beneath him. He took one of her hardened nipples into his warm, wet mouth and sucked on it, swirling his tongue around it.

"Sirius," she whined his name when he switched breasts, this time taking her nipple between his teeth and tugging on it just enough to entice her to arch her back from the mattress.

He chuckled when she whined again. "Patience, baby." He hummed while kissing a trail of fire down her belly. He took the time to admire the rise and fall of her chest as her breath came faster, how she moved restlessly beneath his mouth, and how her pussy glistened with obvious arousal.

Sirius placed a kiss against her hips and then on the inside of her thigh, so close and yet still so far from her core, making her breath hitch. He kissed and nibbled until she was writhing beneath his mouth, trying desperately to get him where she wanted.

And then he smeared his tongue against her pussy, tasting the sweet nectar of her essence and letting it slide down the back of his throat like a fine wine. Her body quivered beneath him, and his name escaped her in a breathless moan.

Sirius couldn’t explain what it was—either inexperience or curiosity—but virgins were so quick to get wet. They tasted different on his tongue—innocent and sweet. And she was no exception. 

Her nerves cracked and popped like lightning as his tongue circled her clit, making her hips buck up. He could feel her heart racing beneath his palms; her nipples hard beneath the touch of his fingers as he caressed them down her body, memorising the feel of her skin until he found her wet heat.

She made this sound—a little gasp of pleasure—that sent arousal rocketing through his veins and straight to his cock when he pushed a finger into her tight pussy. His fingers were thicker than hers, larger and longer, reaching deep and rubbing against all of her nerves.

Emalia grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold his mouth against her when her hips bucked, pushing her pussy against his mouth when he began moving his finger. The stubble on his jaw scratched beautifully at the inside of her thighs as they tightened around his head, trapping him there when he added a second finger, stretching her more.

She came without warning, her walls clamping tight around him and her hips rising from the mattress as the world shattered into sweet oblivion. Sirius kept his lips encircled around her clit, sucking and fingering her through the climax as crystal shards of pleasure shot through her entire being. It felt like a bolt of white-hot lightning had scored her soul and set her world ablaze.

Emalia had touched herself before. She was no stranger to pleasure; she had kissed young men other than Sirius and gotten handsy with them. She’d had cum countless times with her fingers or the toys in her nightstand. But this was like nothing else.

Sirius was the son of the devil, with the face of an angel.

Her walls continued to flutter as she came back to earth with her head swimming and her thighs trembling. He withdrew his fingers to lick them clean. Sirius climbed the length of her body slowly, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses from her clit, up her belly, and between the valley of her breasts until she was tasting herself on his tongue.

She stroked his dark locks as he positioned himself between her thighs, their tongues twisting and twirling together in a delicious dance of dominance. He won, of course, and she lost gleefully. Sirius groaned against her lips as he rubbed his cock along her slick folds, her arousal lubricating him as the tip nudged her sensitive clit.

"Sirius," she moaned softly, her eyes pleading for more.

"Are you sure?"

"Please."

He did not need to be told twice. He bent his head to kiss her, his lips gliding over hers and swallowing the little gasp she made when he entered her. He moved slowly, trying to give her time to adjust to the stretch, but even so, her fingers tightened around the muscles of his shoulders when he buried himself completely, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

The sound she made was strangled, her body tensing beneath his as she tried to will herself to relax. Pain blossomed through her core and radiated through her hips. Her eyes were scrunched shut, tears dancing on her lashline, but she didn’t tell him to stop.

Sirius knew that it was uncomfortable for her. He was not a small man, and he knew that he was above average. Emalia was so slick with arousal that if she hadn’t been a virgin, it might not have been so demanding to accommodate him.

His mouth skimmed over her chin, her cheeks, and her forehead, leaving a trail of sweet kisses behind. "Doing okay?" He asked, his voice straining as he held himself perfectly still. Emalia peeled her eyes open to stare into his stormy gaze, her breath shaking as it escaped.

"Yeah," she said in a whisper, her voice trembling.

"Try to relax," he encouraged, "it will feel good."

Sirius groaned when she loosened her grip on his shoulders, her nails leaving a sting in his heated skin. She made a sound in response, an apologetic whimper, "S - sorry!" The pitch of her voice rose as he slowly withdrew, her lips trembling against his, her expression somewhere between wanting him to devour her and wanting him to stop.

"S’okay, angel," he said, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her. Sirius teased his lips against hers, plunged his tongue into her mouth, and devoured her moans. He pulled out until the crown of his cock was nestled in her snug walls, and then sank back in.

He kept a slow rhythm, stretching her and giving her plenty of time. And then it happened. Emalia wound her legs around his waist to pull him in deeper while she clawed at the sheets, grasping fistfuls of the Egyptian cotton while tossing her head back and arching her back. Fresh waves of arousal washed over his cock.

She moved with him, her hips rising to welcome the piston of his, her movements delicate and desperate—in contrast to his. Sirius moved with control, dominating her with each thrust and fucking her into the mattress until she was clawing at his back and moaning in his ear. He was a little bit rough, holding her so tight that her skin was sure to bruise in the shape of his fingers, his teeth nipping at her lips until they were slightly swollen, devouring every sound that was torn from her throat.

"Sirius!" She screeched his name, her voice high-pitched and strained, when he adjusted his position to thrust deeper, hauling her legs higher on his hips. The tip of his cock crashed into a spot that sent her suddenly skyrocketing.

"Oh."

There was nothing that could have prevented the smug smirk that found its way onto his lips or the surge of pride that welled in his chest. If she had seen it, she might have smacked him. He thrust again, deeper and harder, to hear her scream again. He moved his mouth to her ear, his breath hot, his teeth tugging on her earlobe.

"That’s it, isn’t it? The spot."

Her thighs were quivering as she arched off the mattress, her head thrown back, and her lips parted in a silent scream. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Sirius fucked her at a merciless pace, his cock catching on every mind-maddening spot along the way, crashing into her repeatedly, but it was the rough pad of his thumb swiping over the fantastic bundle of nerves that made her pussy spasm around him. Emalia screamed as her world was struck by lightning again, set on fire, shattered, and changed.

The sound of the headboard against the wall was a constant thump, thump, thump. Some part of him thought he should feel bad for being rough, especially given that this was her first time. He should have held her and loved her softly, as a gentleman would have. But he could tell from the way her pussy was squeezing him, how she was grabbing at his back to pull him closer, and how she trembled and shuddered beneath him that she was enjoying this.

"That’s it." He growled against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He rubbed harder at her sensitive clit, fingers slick in her arousal, gliding, circling, rubbing. "Cum for me, baby."

"I-I-" She stuttered and stopped. Her mind was screaming that the pleasure would kill her, break her, and ruin her. She would have said it if her throat wasn’t constricted with breathless gasps and moans, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, because it felt so fucking amazing.

"You can," he replied, knowing what she was going to say, once again not accepting no for an answer. "Cum for me, angel, I wanna feel you cum on my cock."

The third orgasm came from nowhere, ripped through her without warning, and crashed into the second. Emalia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, and couldn’t think through the haze he invoked. She clung to him as the storm swept her away; her nails dug so deeply into his skin that Sirius was certain to be bleeding.

She came undone beneath him, shuddering, panting, and moaning, her hips bucking into his as he fucked her with deep strokes. Her walls clamped so tightly around him that he groaned against her ear. His name spilled from her lips like a prayer to heaven, over and over again, like it was the only thing she could remember.

Sirius buried his face against her neck, biting and sucking, leaving behind hickeys that were sure to embarrass her later. His thrusts became wilder and less controlled as he chased his own release. He fisted the pillow beneath her head, grunting against her neck as his abdomen tightened, white dots decorating his vision. He kept going, moving on primal desire, until something snapped. His mind went blank and fogged as his body shuddered, his nerves cracking like they’d turned into life wires.

He reached his high and tumbled over the edge while kissing her, his fingers curling into fists around duck feather pillows, his knuckles white under the pressure. With a final thrust and a deep groan, he buried himself in her, his hips nestling tightly against hers. Ivory ribbons decorated her walls and filled her, and his tongue wrestled with hers.

Sirius waited until his vision cleared and her nails had lessened their hold before pulling out, leaving her feeling empty, sore, and satisfied. He fell onto his side, thankful for the cool sheets against his heated skin. With an arm wrangled around her waist, he dragged her against him, making her squeak and stare wide-eyed at him.

His fingers were buried in her hair again, dragging her mouth to his so he could kiss her with the fire of a thousand suns. Emalia couldn’t explain what it invoked; she couldn’t have imagined this moment.

They lay in a tangle of limbs, one of his arms around her, strong, pinning her to the wall of his chest, the other buried in her hair and refusing to release her lips. She cradled his face with one hand, nails of the opposite hand pressing into his chest. Their lips were inseparable.

It was comfortable.

And she wanted more.

#sirius black #sirius black x original character #sirius black x ofc #sirius black x emalia grace #sirius black smut #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black one shot #ride or die kinda love

[a-strange-inkling]

Eddie: Best friend!! 😃

Jeff: Second best friend!! 😁

Eddie: …I’m going to need a little more commitment from you, Jeffery 😡

#unnamed freak is his ride or die okay #when jeff leaves the band tho 😭 #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #unnamed freak stranger things #corroded coffin #incorrect eddie quotes #incorrect hellcheer quotes

[marleyelona]

RIDE OR DIE (THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights go to Kurt Sutter, FX and any others that made this amazing show possible. I do, however, own my character, Letitia Morrow, and any other OCs I might add in the future, along with their backstories and their storylines within the show.

GRAPHICS: I MAKE the gifs that are used throughout this book. On occasion I will use gifs I find on google, which I will clarify. Any gifs I haven't made, all rights of those should go to the rightful creators. I also DO the aesthetics, covers, tags and trailers that are made. Please do not steal them. HOWEVER most of the images you see in this book are made by A.I imaging unless stated otherwise.

WARNING (Mature Audience Only)⚠️: violence, murder, gore, coarse language, mental health issues, domestic violence, drug and alcohol use, and detailed sex scenes will appear in this book. If any of these are a trigger for you, please take caution if you decide to continue. 

[ RIDE OR DIE! ]

Prologue

A Trunk Full of Problems

[Pre-Season One]

" There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know which side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that. "

~ CLAY MORROW to JUICE ORTIZ

☆《》¤

CAST

Emmy Rossum as Letitia Morrow

Penn Badgley as Lewis Mckenna 

☆《》¤ 

TRIGGER WARNING⚠️: Mentions of domestic abuse, a shooting, minor gore and some coarse language.

☆《》¤ 

LETTY'S CAR

☆《》¤

LETTY'S OUTFIT

☆《》¤ 

LETTY'S TATTOOS

☆《》¤

A TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD LETITIA MORROW sped down the highway so fast if she took a wide corner her car would most likely turn over. Apart of her was dreading seeing the 'Welcome to Charming' sign. Letty or Lett, as she was called by many of the small town's residences, speed increased, while tears streamed down her beaten and bruised face. A dark purplish bruise hung under her left eye, her bright cherry lips had grown two sizes too big, as blood oozed out of the corner of her mouth. 

Pressing her foot down on the gas, made her engine let out a loud roar, as a sob escaped her lips when she aggressively rubbed her blood stained hands onto her ripped jeans. Her tears continued to flow like a tap, as the memories of the night prior flashed through her mind like an old movie projector. 

A blood curdling scream echoed in her ears, as she gasped, her eyes shot wide open at the sight of a car inches away from colliding with her front bumper, their bright head lights shinning into her eyes, almost blinding the brunette. 

Her shaky hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, as she turned it, managing to dodge the oncoming car without damaging her beautiful mustang - Thank God or her dad would have killed her. 

The car was in fact her baby. She received him on her sixteenth birthday from her father, who just so happened to be the President of Samcro, Clay Morrow. 

Her father and her had a complicated relationship, childhood worth of resentment hung heavy for Letty, and she was just as stubborn as him, so any chance she got, she liked to remind him how much he wasn't there for her growing up. Sometimes they were too similar, because of this, they constantly butted heads. But at the end of the day they loved each other deeply and were very protective over one another - they would quite literally kill for each other. 

Admittedly, it had been a few years since Letty had been back to Charming, she had moved pretty quickly after she graduated from high school, not wanting to end up some Sons' old lady like Gemma. God, she loved that woman like a mother, but she did not want to turn out like her. 

Gemma and Letty had a close relationship. Letty's mother died in 1987 during an emergency c-section. And when her father married Gemma, she became mum to her, as she had helped raise her pretty much since birth, making her the woman she is today. 

Gemma was the one person Letty was worried to see, as she headed towards the club house. After she left, they had talked on the phone a few times here and there, but it wasn't the same. Gemma didn't fully support her leaving town, so she wasn't excited about the lecture she would mostly definitely receive when they came face to face again after three years. 

Her eyes travelled to the back seat of her car at the many bags she stuffed inside, knowing she couldn't return to her house in Los Angeles, not after what happened the night prior with her boyfriend of three years, who she met during her freshman year of college, where she went onto complete a diploma in nursing. 

That was probably the hardest thing about her decision to race back home to Charming, having to quit a job she loved with people she loved. But she was sure she'd be able to pick up a nursing job at the hospital easy, as they always seem to be short staffed. 

As she passed the out dated 'Welcome to Charming' sign, which hadn't been updated since she was born, maybe even longer, a cold chill ran down her spine. She wonder what the small town of Charming would have in stall for this next chapter of her life. Because one thing was for sure, Charming was never boring, there was always something happening, whether it was good or bad that was up for interpretation. 

Sure, she was happy to see her old friends and family. There was Jax and Opie, who were like her older brothers growing up. Before she had left she got pretty close with Opie's wife Donna, while Opie was inside. Donna actually helped Letty look for colleges far away from Charming and Samcro, thinking if she couldn't get out of the crippling town herself and away from the toxicity of the club, she'd want someone to, who else more deserving than the sweetheart that was Letty Morrow. 

She'd love to see all the boys again. Chibs, Bobby, Tig and Piney were all in the waiting room of the maternity ward when Letita Loraine Morrow was brought into this world. They all actually got kicked out for smoking a couple fat cigars. A story that was continuously told throughout her life, the boys thought it was pretty funny, mainly trying to shine some light on the day they lost a good woman, Loraine Morrow, the most caring woman you'd ever meet, a trait her daughter inherited. 

Letty was close with them all, but Chibs was like a second father to her, so even when her dad wasn't around much when she was a kid, Chibs was there to fill that emptiness in her heart. 

Piney was someone she loved to call her crazy grandpa, she had actually went to calling him Pops or Poppy at a young age. 

And Bobby and Tig were like her eccentrically crazy uncles that would willingly get her plastered, partying right into the night together - she loved them to death. 

As Letty finally pulled into Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair Shop, that was used as a front for their motorcycle club's dealings, she gave herself a small pep talk inside her head, 'It's going to be okay. Sure, you haven't seen most of these people in years, but you got this. It'll be fine'. In fact, she was so deep in her own thoughts and still pretty hysterical, that she didn't realise how far she actually drove into the large compound and before she knew it...BANG! 

☆《》¤  

A loud CRASH! Followed by a continuous horn caught the Sons' attention from inside the Chapel. Like any other day, the boys sat around the table discussing current business, before they were oh-so-rudely interrupted. 

Instantly, they were all on their feet, their senses on high alert, because when you were apart of a motorcycle club that did questionable dealings, you should always expect the worst. Each member had a hand clamped around their gun that sat on their hips; ready to draw it if need be. 

Clay Morrow held up a hand, signalling from them all to stay put. Placing a finger to his lips, he motioned with his head for them to quietly follow him outside. 

Making it outside and around the back of the large compound, they all noticed the familiar red mustang, which had clearly crashed into the garage sliding door. 

"Jesus Christ!" Clay hissed under his breath, running hand through his white-blonde hair, as he released his grip from his glock. Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Bobby Munson, Piney Winston, Tig Trager and Opie Winston, followed suit, relaxing slightly. Although, both Juice Ortiz and Half-Sack Epps were still clearly on high alert - what the hell was going on? 

Concern and worry had washed over the older members' faces, Clay being the first one to rush over to the car. But all of them sighed in relief when the driver's side door opened and a girl with long, brown, curly hair stepped out of the vehicle. Juice and Half-sack had held back; having no idea what was happening. 

"Daddy!" Letty immediately broke down at the sight of her father, instantly running into his arms and soaking his chest with tears, as she sobbed. And as Juice watched the scene unfold, he felt a small pang in his heart for the poor girl. 

Clay pulled back, holding the woman at arms length, as he cupped her beautiful face. And once Juice finally got a good look at her features, his jaw almost hit the floor. She was hot. No, not hot...Gorgeous. He honestly thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. And he had been with his fair share of beautiful women, but not one of them held a candle to Letty Morrow.

"Honey, what happened--?" Clay started to ask, before his face fell, noticing the state she was in and the bruises that scattered her entire body, not just her face. "Did he beat you again?" Clay's whole face turned murderous, as he tightly gripped his daughter's shoulders, which made her wince in pain. 

All the girl managed was a nod of her head, which only angered Clay more. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" the man clenched his fists, as he started to storm towards his bike, but Letty was quick to grab his arm. 

"No! You're not going anywhere," she declared, sending her father a stern look. 

Yanking his arm back, he glared at his only daughter, "Don't tell me what I'm gonna fucking do. He put his hands on you, baby!" 

"I understand that," she said, matching his tone. If the situation wasn't so serious the boys would of had a laugh at how quickly father and daughter had started arguing. It was always said, 'You can't have Clay and Letty in the same room for too long or a storm would brew'. 

Clay went to open his mouth to argue once again, but Letty cut him off and continued with what she was saying, "That's why I took care of it," she said in a tone of voice that gave nothing away, her face even remained solemn, so you couldn't even read her facial expressions to guess what she meant by that statement. 

Clay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What does that even mean?" he slightly snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

"I came here because I need your help," she stated, making her way over to her car, Clay and the boys followed after her as she started to unlock her boot. Pulling the door open, the boys leaned over to look inside and their eyes widened at the sight of a man all tied up with a gun shot wound on his lower region, his blood staining the lining of the boot. 

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Lewis Mckenna hissed, glaring bloody murder at his girlfriend of three years, as he thrusted around, trying to get free from the tight binds. "You actually fucking shot me! Oh, my God, you shot me in the dick!" he cried, looking down at his wounded genitals that oozed with blood. 

While amusement was clear on the older members' faces, Juice and Half-Sack were watching on, completely confused, but also very intrigued, watching this all play out like it was a brand new movie at the cinemas. All they were missing was popcorn. 

"And I should of done worse, you fucking cock sucker!" she sneered, shooting daggers with her eyes at her latest ex-boyfriend. 

A growl sounded from the back of Lewis' throat, as his glared up at her hatefully, "I'm going to fucking kill, you crazy bitch--!" 

The guy's threat was cut short by an elbow to the face, knocking him out cold, "That's enough out of," Jax smirked, owner of said elbow, earning him a chuckle from the girl that was basically his sister, they gave each other enough wedgies growing up to justify that. 

"As you can see..." she said to her father, putting on her best, 'I'm sweet and innocent' look "...I fucked up." 

"Yeah, you should of went for the head," Clay hissed, looking at the man in complete disgust, like he was the piece of gum under his shoe. 

"I thought it showed creativity," Letty pouted like a five year old who was just refused ice cream for dinner, crossing her arms over her chest. "So sue me," she shrugged nonchalantly. 

"I thought it was pretty creative, darlin'," Tig stated with that somewhat sinister smirk of his. "Take away a man's equipment -Worse and most painful punishment there is." 

"Thanks, Tigga," she said, sending the man a kind smile. Her nickname for Tig came from when she was a toddler and just learning to say a few words here and there, so when Tig tried to teach her his name or his nickname, she kept just getting excited repeatedly yelling her favourite cartoon character's name and the nickname just stuck ever since. 

Clay shot his Sergeant in Arms a glare, "Don't encourage her," he scolded. 

Tig raised his hands in mock-surrender, "Hey! She's your daughter."

Clay's glare sharpened at his words, making him take a step back, his hands still raised, "That's all I'm saying." 

"Letty?!" the voice of Gemma Teller-Morrow sounded from behind the girl. The woman had stepped out of the office to investigate what the commotion was all about, she didn't recognise the woman at first, squinting her eyes, as she blocked out the sun's UV rays with her hand. And that's when she saw it, the face she hadn't seen in nearly three whole years. One she'd recognise from a mile away.

Letty was quick to whip her head around and a smile immediately graced her face as she spotted Gemma striding over to her in a quick pace. 

"Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in," chuckled Gemma, as she reached the girl, looking at her fondly. 

"Gemma," Letty beamed, bringing the woman into a hug. 

"Gemma?" the woman frowned in confusion as they parted. "What happened to Mum?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side, as she raised an eyebrow, staring the girl down. "Been gone too long, you forgot who raised your skinny ass," she teased, cupping the girl's chin as she gave her face a playful shake. "Huh?" 

Letty chuckled, shaking her head amusingly, "Never." 

Gemma smiled, wrapping her arm around her step-daughter's shoulders, before leading her back over to her car and examined the contents of her boot, a hum leaving her lips, "This is the boyfriend I'm guessing?" 

"Ex-boyfriend," Letty corrected. 

"Well, they can't say you don't know how to make an entrance." 

"Well, you know..." she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I gotta keep the old man on his toes," she said, flashing her father a cheeky smirk, as she sent him a wink, earning a playful glare in response.

Gemma let out a loud chuckle, snapping her head back in amusement, "Well, what do you say, why don't we leave the boys to clean up this mess you created, and you and I grab a cuppa and catch up?" she asked, as she started to guide the girl back over to her father's office. "It's been so long. I've missed you around here, baby!" Gemma beamed happily, as she rubbed her shoulders - glad her daughter was back. 

"Yeah, I've missed you guys, too," Letty said, and it was true, she did. She never wanted to leave the people. She wanted to leave the club and small town life behind. 

Meanwhile, Juice was in a hypnotic state, his eyes watching Letty closely as she walked away, he was practically drooling over her, "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered to Half-Sack in a monotone voice. Juice didn't think about who was around at that moment, as the words slipped from his lips. 

"Yeah," Half-Sack rapidly nodded his head in agreement, while he was actually drooling over her and had to readjust the spring in his jeans. "Hard to think she came from Clay," he chuckled. 

"Hey!" Clay whacked both the zombie like boys on the back of the head.

"Ow!" they both hissed simultaneously, rubbing the back of their heads. 

"Both of your ugly mugs better not be thinking what I think your thinking about," he warned, pointing a stern finger in their faces. 

"Hell no, sir" Half-Sack immediately uttered, his eyes awkwardly finding his feet when he looked away from the girl, not knowing where else to look in the mean time. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Clay shot back with narrowed eyes. 

"Damn," Juice whistled, his eyes still locked on the girl, who was now inside, sipping a coffee as she talked with Gemma, still visible through the window, as he remained in his hypnotic state. 

"Oh, Juicy Boy," Tig chuckled amusingly, coming over to wrap his arm over the boy's shoulders, giving him a light pat. "She's gonna chew you up and spit you out." 

"Ain't that the truth," Opie agreed, shaking his head in amusement - Juice could not handle a girl like Letty Morrow, not in the slightest. Stronger men have tried and let's just say, it didn't end well for them. 

Clay joyfully chuckled, finding the boy's crush on his daughter kind of hilarious, knowing she had no interest in dating a Son. He would have applied the rule when she turned eighteen himself, but she had already stated she would never date one of his 'brothers' way before that. 

"There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know what side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that," he said, clicking his fingers together, as a sinister smirk tugged at the corner his lips. "So, this should be fun to watch, aye, boys?" he mocked, as they all roared with laughter. 

Poor Juice had no idea what he was getting himself into; swooning over the President's daughter. 

☆《》¤ 

Originally Published on Wattpad on the 10/03/2024

A/N:

Please not, all Images were created by Bing's AI generator. Although, the title tag at the top was made by me.

Let me know what you thought of the Prologue to my Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction - Ride or Die.

Marley 😁

Words: 3182

#sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #clay morrow #jax teller #gemma teller #opie winston #chibs telford #bobby munson #tig trager #emmy rossum #ride or die #samcro #penn badgley #theo rossi #fanfiction #wattpad #writers on tumblr #reading #books #new writers on tumblr #my books #michelle rodriguez #my ocs #my oc character #original character #my characters #my oc stuff #my oc art

[purplearrowzandleather-blog]

Maverick is surprised to learn the “quirks” in his and Goose’s plane aren’t quirks at all, but a passive attempt by the Navy to kill him. Ain’t that a bitch?

#top gun fanfiction #top gun fandom #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #Don't touch Goose's Mav #maverick and goose are ride or die #Iceman and the flyboys be like: Wow. That's fucked #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #rick hollywood neven #leonard wolfman wolfe #rick jester heatherly #mike viper metcalf

[harrysonlylover]

Just a reminder that Harry (Bambi) in ride or die is LHH

#harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles story #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #dark harry #dark harry fic #bunnyandbambi #ride or die #darkharrysmut

[nightbystarriver]

Nights At The Radio Station | Originshipping

If you ask Wallace, it's true that he is no stranger to odd calls every now and then. It's part of a radio host's work, after all.

The green light switched on, and from the corner of his eyes, Wallace sees his radio crew milling about around the room. Amber eyes meet his gaze — and here May is, sending him a quick wave before quickly turning back to her equipment. The other crew members are also working hard tonight — Brendan next to May, tongue stuck out in concentration, yet gaze still occasionally drifting to the girl next to him, secretly and with longing. Ah, to be young and in love, though Wallace supposes he is also not exactly in a position to complain.

Shaking his head, Wallace turns back to the mic before him. Three minutes more, and the night will fall once the green light turns up, and the studio will get running on their job. May and Brendan, for example, among a few others, are in charge of taking up listeners' calls before letting them through to the radio host — Wallace, in this case. Today's work is going to be rather relaxing compared to usual, for Saturdays are reserved for light chatting and music recommendations. 

(And Wallace would not admit it, but Fridays are usually when the stories really go wild, what with it being labelled as 'for letting out all your heart's troubles and feelings' after all. Yesterday he had to listen to a fifteen-minute-call that detailed all the travails and ordeals worth of a person's life; and while he would always try his best to help his listeners no matter who they are, such a load of information at one time can be a little... exhausting.)

And the light switches on, and the crew give him many little smiles and warms up, and a smile naturally blooms on his face as he embraces the night with a hearty and blooming 'hello and good evening, my dear listeners!'. Time flows into words weaved into stories, and as it flows on, Wallace sits back on his chair and relaxes himself, feeling the many knots in his heart over the long week slowly untangle themselves away.

Perhaps it was this sense of ease and the fact that nothing too surprising has ever happened on Saturdays that led to Wallace letting down his guards.

The next call rolls in, and Wallace thinks he saw May widen her eyes for a split second in surprise before she presses the button to forward the call to him, hand covering her mouth in what could be a giggle. How curious. But he doesn't need to wonder for too long as the beeping sound rings out, which means the call has gone through. A smile comes naturally to the corners of his mouth (he loves doing his job, after all), and he greets his beloved caller with a hearty laugh: "Hello and welcome, my dear listener! May I ask what brought you here to us on this wonderous night?"

There is no respond. Worry starts creeping on his mind after a few seconds of listening closely and waiting. Has the connection been cut out? Is his caller lagging-

"Wallace." A warm, vaguely annoyed and deeply familiar voice rings out, and Wallace freezes. "Where did you leave my ring? I specifically told you to it on the bedside table before I went out this morning and now it's nowhere to be found."

Words get stuck in his throat for seconds that stretches seemingly to eternity. Shit, Steven's ring. The weight of that very same ring rests in his left pocket as if it did not just knock his world off its axis for one awkward moment. How does he convey that without sounding suspicious as fuck in front of his audience?

From the corner of his eye, he catches the director moving his hands in a flurry, signaling that he still has not spoken a word since. The mental image of Steven crossing his arms and tapping his shoe on the ground, the frankly cutest pout on his face crosses Wallace's mind as he visibly recomposes himself and leans into the microphone.

"Well, you see, dearest listener, the ring must have been mistakenly taken outside..."

"Dearest listener... hmph. New petname, I see. Isn't 'pampered prince' enough for you?" Someone in the room chokes, and Wallace feels like doing so too.

"In my defense, you are a little pampered."

"By who, I wonder." The voice cannot be dryer. "No dinner tonight for you."

"But you never cook, dear."

"I'm getting takeout." Yes, the voice can get dryer. "Don't forget the ring when you come home."

The call ends.

No one speaks for exactly five seconds. Then someone — probably Brendan — made a move towards the control board, and Wallace has to physically pick himself up for the second time in the span of five minutes as the next call goes through. At least his "Hello!" afterwards sounds natural enough.

After the Saturday's session finishes wrapping up and everyone bids their goodbyes, he tries to quickly leave the studio (and return to a very irritated dear person at home). May stops him dead in his tracks.

"Is that your roommate?" May whispers almost scandalously. Wallace decided to play dumb.

"Who?" Okay, maybe not that dumb.

"The person who called and talked about the- the ring, or- whatever that was. Was that your roommate?"

He would not exactly call Steven his roommate — more like his dearest lovely husband for two years and running strong now, with even more years of mutual pining before that — but Steven was the one who insisted on keeping their relationship a secret only to themselves, their dads and some other close friends. He was a relatively new celebrity when they first got married, and Steven did not want other people to think that his rise in fame is due to the Devon Corporation's money funding him from behind and not thanks to his incredible charisma — honestly, what happened to subtlety, Steven? Did he change his mind? Was he seriously angry? Why did Wallace forget to return his precious ring to its place? Oh, he might as well has fucked up their whole relationship! Sure he might be overreacting a little, he has always had a flair for drama, just leave him be — but the notion of Steven actually being angry at him refuses to leave his mind.

Alas, May is still waiting and the damage has already been done, so he just cracks a half-smile and nods curtly, trying to push through her to walk away. May just grins mischievously. Very foreboding.

"Roommates who also happens to use really cute petnames?"

"Good friends can also use petnames, you know."

May just chuckles and mumbles something along the line of "and historians call them roommates" — Wallace feels like he is being referenced without knowing what the reference is, but that is beside the point. He quickly waves goodbye and head towards the parking lots. He has more... important matters to deal with now.

Said more important matters is also sleeping on the living room couch when he gets home at the wee hours of two in the morning, his chest rising rhythmically in tandem with his breaths. On the table lies two boxes of takeouts, one still wrapped up nicely and one half empty, he could see it was his favourite — ah. Steven was not actually angry, then. Affections swell up in his heart like that of a boy on his first date as he kneels down besides the couch and tenderly presses his lips against the other's exposed forehead.

Steven stirred awake while Wallace gently holds up the other's hand resting on his stomach and return the missing ring to its place. He looks up to a pair of half closed eyes blinking up bearily at him, letting out some mumbled sleepy noises that sounds something like "welcome home", and Wallace feels his heart stepping one step closer to imploding at those words, the way it does everytime ever since they moved in together.

"I'm home." He brought the bony fingers up and pressed another kiss against it. The tired, yet honest grin that blooms on Steven's face melts all the worries of the diligent, professional Wallace away, leaving only the Wallace who cries over every cheesy romance movie and stays in the bed for five more minutes just to keep staring at his beloved's sleeping form. God, he loves his husband so much.

"Let's go inside, you will catch a cold like this." He gently lays rocks Steven back and forth. "Sorry about the ring, dear."

"It's fine, I didn't really mind." And then Steven swung his arms over his neck, and oh, Wallace's heart might have just actually imploded. "Carry me back to bed."

"Huh- Wait, my dear-"

And Steven is already asleep again, his arms somehow not loosening for one moment. Wallace merely shakes his head exasperately, his hands already moving down the other's back to lift him up.

After all, who is he to disobey the whims of his pampered prince?

#pokemon #fanfiction #originshipping #steven stone #wallace pokemon #alternate universe #there will be a part 2 #this is so self indulgent #i will ride with this ship till i die #its funny how i have to tag wallace with pokemon while steven just chilling with his stone #very inspired by that one erasermic oneshot on ao3

[missmagooglie]

Seven Sentence Sunday!

I've managed to actually work on this since getting a push from the WIP Wednesday game, so have a peek at some Therapy Baby!

“Did you just lie to your son’s pediatrician for me?” Buck asks, gobsmacked.  “Um,” Eddie says, reaching a hand back to scratch at his neck nervously. “Not technically? Mislead, maybe…” “You called me your partner,” Buck points out. Eddie shrugs. “They don’t need to know I meant work-partner.” Buck doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie in disbelief. “Look, siblings don’t have to go on the new patient waitlist,” Eddie explains. “So I, you know, I implied… It’s just to get Danny in the door. Once he’s officially a patient, they aren’t going to kick him out if we don’t, like, fake a relationship to keep up the ruse.”

#Fic: Therapy Baby #911onfox #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #buddie #therapy baby #I wanna make something clear about this fic #they worked a total of THREE SHIFTS together before Buck went on parental leave #and that includes the first shift and a half where Buck had a bug up his ass about Eddie being there #these two idiots went ride or die for each other basically immediately #how do i fanfiction?

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

AAAAAH, thank you so much for the enduring support, @ewanmitchellcrumbs​. This thingo wouldn’t be what it is if you weren’t constantly cheering me on, I swear. I’m so grateful that you’re always looking over my drafts and dealing with my general annoyingness. I’m forever honoured you think I’m decent enough to consider worth reading, let alone to spend the amount of time chatting that we have. Love you, boo!

#fanfiction comments #kind mutuals #ange my ride or die #unhinged mutuals #mutuals #sweet mutuals

[stuck-in-total-drama-hell]

chapter 6: rollercoaster heart, free falling in the dark

she’s back! both myself and ride and die.

#wkr thinks out loud #ride and die bonnie and clyde #total drama #total drama island #total drama action #total drama world tour #duncney #fanfiction #fanfic #td courtney #courtney #td duncan #Duncan

[monaownsmyass]

Are any Mona lovers still alive here?👀 I’m writing a lil snippet of how I’d picture RoD2 to go down, more specifically, Mona and MC meeting again for the first time. I think I’ll be posting the fic soon so keep an eye out and lmk if you wanna be tagged 😙

#mona x mc #mona Rod #mona fanfiction #mona fanfic #mona #mona choices #mona rod2 #rod #ride or die #rod2 #ride or die 2 #rod choices #rod2 choices #ride or die choices #ride or die 2 choices #choices #choices: stories you play #pb #pixelberry #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #i havent wrote in soooo long #keep expectations low #Im only writing this cuz I can’t get it out of my head #i miss her so much #we were robbed

[dorminchu]

wip wednesday -- Marley Reunion [Draft A]

Scene takes place during an alternate Marley Arc. NSFW below the cut. For context, Annie goes back to Marley and becomes Vice-Captain. Eren is still here for the reason he was in canon. After four years of not seeing each other and lots of unresolved tension (romantic? emotional? sexual? take your pick!) only NOW do these two get the opportunity to resolve anything w/o distractions. And there's only one week before Tybur declares war on Paradis, during the festival!

@lunarcrystal

"How long will you be staying in Liberio?"

"Only 'til the festival."

His voice neutral. Enemies did not look at each other this way. She always told herself the next time they spoke would be to the other's grave. How simple it was for him to rebel, when he made it his prerogative. He saw her cool veneer and the fear beneath it because of his simplicity.

"You don't look drunk," said Annie.

"The clerk at the general store calls me a heavyweight drinker," Krueger answered, shifting his weight on his good leg. "I suppose that's true."

Her image reflected in his working eye, drowning in his desolation. This hunger shared between them. In four years, the outspoken idealist into a man whose conviction sucked the life from him. The same vacancy in Braun's eyes, when he thought he was alone. Annie licked her lips, in a silent battle with herself over what to say. The responsible thing to do. The silence between them so thick a knife couldn't cut it.

"Vice-Captain," he said slowly. Like he was tasting it. His voice lowered. Eyes a little wider. "Annie. It’s you?"

The first hit caught him on the mouth, knocked his head back. She got on top of him, fist in his shirt, the well of blood where she'd cut her knuckles. This was less than what he deserved. To see him spitting up blood and unable to explode in on himself, designated to the same human frailty as anyone else. "You stupid son of a bitch," she hissed, tugging him up by the collar. "I thought you were dead."

His eyes hardened. Trickle of blood from his lip. "I thought you'd recognise me sooner."

The only Eldian who looked at her without hesitation. Always happy to train with her. That boy didn't exist. Civilians accepted her as the symbol of a dying military regime, and men like Krueger as the byproduct of that sacrifice in Marley's name. Eren Jaeger, the devil of Paradis, the latest pariah to pit all of Marley's unresolved hatred against.

She lowered her fist. Bowing her head, closing the distance and sinking her teeth into the wound. He took her face in his hands and answered with the rapacious fever of a man ready to die. Threading fingers through his oily hair, tongue against teeth—iron, cheap whiskey. They could only get so close without trying to devour one another.

Eren pushed her back. Inhaling, exhaling, as if he could redirect some blood to his brain. “That—wasn’t what I meant.”

"You still don't know how to talk to girls."

His eyes flickered to hers. "You could teach me."

She got to her feet. "You're out of your mind."

Eren studied her, impassive. A far cry from the cadet of fifteen who couldn't stop running his mouth. He pushed himself up to sit. "Most days I wake up and try to convince myself I've always lived in this tenement. Perhaps, in such a life, I could have met you. We'd take a train out of Liberio, somewhere nicer, where we could just—talk." His eyes glazed over, looking through her. "But it won't change anything, will it?"

Annie shrugged out of her jacket, folding it up and setting it aside on the dresser. Unfastening her wristlet, hairpin. Working on the buttons of her shirt, avoiding her eyes in the mirror to find his face. Wide-eyed, fixed on her. The slope of her back, bending down to have a seat in the rickety chair, unlacing her boots.

Rasping movement over floorboards. She watched him drag himself to sit before her feet. Easier to internalize him as Krueger. The serviceman from the pub, hiking her dress over her knees. His hands, slender like a poet's, caressing her legs in slow, measured strokes. One of life's ironies, that he insisted on using them to fight.

Tugging her underwear to her ankles, he left the cashmere stockings. Cheek to her thigh, scrape of day-old stubble. His eyes hooded. A little worshipful. She slid her leg across his shoulder and his mouth curled.

Time fell away. Distant bustle of traffic outside. His head between her legs, lapping without finesse but a unhurried easiness, as if they’d been shacking up for months.

This wasn't really about the letters, or Grice's choice in friends. Not Marley or Eldia or the war inherited. The wounded serviceman who'd trapped her heart between his teeth, sucking a bruise into her thigh. Annie dug her heel into his spine. Her fingers threading through oily hair, curled a fist.

Picturing him in hospice. Adjusting to the crutch, marching a path around the courtyard, a young orderly on his arm. The hospitals were flooded with Marleyan volunteers. Younger women turned relicts, with the death of so many men. Such a pity that Krueger was Eldian. Trapped in his façade of shellshock, unable to express any meaningful connection.

His nose bumped the pulse between her thighs. He took it in his mouth. Annie tamped her thighs over his head, moaning through her teeth. He was groping at her legs, pinning her to the armrests. She’d only confined herself. Muscles spasming. She took her hand off his head to muffle a shout.

He sat back on his haunches, blotting his mouth. He got to his knees.

Palms under her ass, hauling her from the chair. She threw her legs around his waist once she was close enough.

His lame leg gave out and they knocked over the chair. Sprawled on top of him, he grunted. Indifferent, aside from the tent in his chinos.

He had a little come on his nose. She thumbed it away, the way Dreyse used to correct her lipstick. Annie snorted. The look of confusion on his face made it very difficult to stay composed, so she pushed her thigh into his groin.

He inhaled sharply. Annie feigned indifference. Mouthing his carotid artery. If she were to sink her teeth into him, he'd bear that mark for a while. Unbuttoning his chinos, feeling over his thighs. No flaky, peeling skin. He'd been stifling his regeneration for a couple weeks, at least.

Palming him through the button-down underwear, his eyes fluttered shut. He could hide a flush, thanks to his complexion. She licked her palm, wrapped her hand around him. Thick enough to give her pause. She'd be the only Warrior in the board-room with an inexplicable limp.

His fingers pushed into her. Swiped over her slit like a kiss goodbye. Coating himself. Slick prints on her thighs.

Lowering onto him, it barely hurt. Impaling herself completely, it wasn't as comfortable. Thighs a bracket around his waist. Each thrust into her, there was a dull sting. She grit her teeth. She wouldn't ask him to be gentle or kind. In a week, they'd be on opposite sides.

Rolling her hips, taking pace. A Warrior could empathize, though it wasn't enough to spite the hollow in her chest. She planted one palm to his chest and to her clit.

"Like this," her voice a stranger's, soft and girlish. "Touch me."

His hand joined hers. Circling his fingers. His mouth to her shoulder. Cupping her ass and pivoting into her. His shaky breaths escalating into a choked-off groan.

Falling across him as if she'd just been shot. Her forehead to his shoulder, damp with sweat. Tracing the notches of her spine to nape, where skin met scar tissue.

Medical staff in Marley didn't talk specifics beyond venereal disease. Pregnancies were a faster path back to the fields, in wedlock or disgrace. Warriors were not encouraged to make families of their own—the women couldn't carry a child to term. Defying the odds, it would be an Eldian bastard.

#ereani #I'll probably tone this down somewhat #ereannie #fanfiction #WIP #smut #might be a little rusty #I hope this doesn't read like an intimacy coordinator wrote it #this is partly based off a meme #and partly from a scene in a film #as in the penultimate(?) scene from blue valentine #if ever there was a ride or die vibe for one's otp. it would be that film. no I won"t elaborate >:)

[marleyelona]

Material List (Ride or Die)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights go to Kurt Sutter, FX and any others that made this amazing show possible. I do, however, own my character, Letitia Morrow, and any other OCs I might add in the future, along with their backstories and their storylines within the show.

GRAPHICS: I MAKE the gifs that are used throughout this book. On occasion I will use gifs I find on google, which I will clarify. Any gifs I haven't made, all rights of those should go to the rightful creators. I also DO the aesthetics, covers, tags and trailers that are made. Please do not steal them. HOWEVER most of the images you see in this book are made by A.I imaging unless stated otherwise.

WARNING (Mature Audience Only)⚠️: violence, murder, gore, coarse language, mental health issues, domestic violence, drug and alcohol use, and detailed sex scenes will appear in this book. If any of these are a trigger for you, please take caution if you decide to continue. 

☆《》¤

RIDE OR DIE

(THE LETITIA MORROW SERIES)

☆《》¤

"With you, I've found my ride or die, my partner in crime."

☆《》¤

In which; Clay Morrow's daughter shows up at the club house all bruised and battered in desperate need of her father's help.

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Status: ongoing

08/03/2024-present

SOA: S1--

Juice Ortiz x fem! oc

☆《》¤

Prologue

#sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #clay morrow #jax teller #gemma teller #opie winston #chibs telford #bobby munson #tig trager #emmy rossum #penn badgley #michelle rodriguez #bruce willis #theo rossi #ride or die #samcro #fanfiction #wattpad #writers on tumblr #reading #books #new writers on tumblr #my books #ocs #my ocs #my original character #my oc art

[quietcontradictions]

Look I just realized that, with the show still in it's early years, Perrin is going to be shipped around a lot. At least thru season 4 when they introduce and wed Faile to Perrin.

So I just thought I'd let my allegiances be known.

If I can ship anyone with Perrin it's Gaul.

If not Gaul, then Egwene.

If not Egwene, than anyone the show let's him have a little chemistry with.

I love Faile as a character. I think she's neat. But her and Perrin's relationship was the WORST part of the books for me.

#wheel of time #they haven't even introduced Gaul in the show! #2 aiel in cages and yet neither is Gaul Ride-or-Die for Perrin Aybara of the Stone Dog Aiel #also Perrin and Egwene should have been talking in Tel'aran'Rhiod for books and not just at the end of Towers of Midnight #i should just write more of my fanfiction about it