#ryan please just cut your hair like this again PLEASE GOD

[cowgurrrl]

From the Dining Table

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: I feel like I should just leave the author’s note blank because there’s nothing I can do to make it better

Summary: “The love was there. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t save anyone. There were just too many forces against it. But it still matters that the love was there.” [4.5k]

Warnings: oh it’s so sad, mentions of bullying, hard conversations, goodbyes, June ruining everyone’s night yet again

Red Dirt Girl becomes the number one movie in America the first weekend it's in theatres. Box office numbers are insanely high, promising a high payout for everyone involved, and people are already talking about sweeping the competition during awards season. Peter sent flowers to your house to congratulate you, and you and Lilly are scheduled to do as much press together as possible before you leave for Ireland. It's the best-case scenario. So, why can't you let yourself feel good about it? 

Instead of basking in your accomplishments and the pride you feel for this project or going out to celebrate on the clear Friday night that settled over LA, you're packing boxes. You're only taking the things you can't live without, but going through your stuff and deeming what you need and don't is exhausting. The rooms in your house feel especially empty as you silently walk around, thinking your way through the tasks. You consider calling Ryan or your mom to fill the eerie quiet but decide against it. You'll have to talk about Joel if you call either of them, and you don't think you're ready for that yet. So, you open your notes app and try to find the strength to do at least one thing on your list of boring, necessary things that need to get done.

Your to-do list feels never-ending and daunting every time you glance at it. You haven't even thought about finding another manager despite it being the most pressing issue besides your move. You'd been with Mel since you came to LA and thought she'd be your manager for at least another four or five years. She wasn't perfect, but she always made sure your name was being spoken in the important rooms and fought tooth and nail for you. She was ruthless on your behalf. She got you to where you are today. That's not nothing. 

You sigh and pull your hair into a ponytail, debating on going through your books or closet, when a loud knock sounds from downstairs. To call it a knock is a little generous. It sounds like someone is pounding on your door, but you're not expecting anyone. You grab the baseball bat from your bedroom closet before walking down the stairs and approaching the front door. Your knuckles turn white around the grip as you peek through the peephole to see who could possibly be pounding on your door at nine pm. The second you figure out who it is, you drop the bat and scramble to open the door.

"Ellie?" You ask, cutting her off mid-raised fist. Her hair is in her face, and she's wearing her glasses, your porch light casting shadows over her eyes. A big backpack is slung over her big hoodie, and she looks distraught.

"My dad said I can still talk to you if I want. Is that true?" She asks breathlessly, and you look behind her to see if Joel or Sarah dropped her off but find nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Come in," you say, opening the door wider for her to come in. She takes two long strides over your threshold and into your home while you wrack your brain about how to handle this. Is there a handbook out there for talking to your ex-boyfriend's daughter? "Please tell me you didn't ride your bike here."

"No, I took an Uber." She says nonchalantly as you follow her into your living room. You chuckle and turn to ask her if she wants water or a snack but stop yourself short when you finally get a look at her black eye.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" 

"It's not a big deal." She says as you force her to sit at your dining table, put her backpack down, and carefully take her glasses off her face. She winces when you put your hand on her chin to turn her face so you can see her eye better. Under the glow of your kitchen lights, you find a swelling bruise on her jaw and a cut on her nose. How did you not see her injuries in the dark? 

You rush around, gathering ice and a bandaid for her nose. She doesn't say anything as she sits there, looking pretty miserable, and your heart aches at the pout of her lips. You hand her an ice pack to hold to her head while you clean and bandage the cut across her nose. None of the bruises look especially scary, and despite a little blood staining her cheek, she's perfectly fine. You take out your phone flashlight and shine the light across her pupils, watching them dilate accordingly.

"Are you a nurse all of a sudden?" She asks, and you smile as you put your phone face down on the table in front of you. 

"No, but I've played them enough on TV to know how to check for a concussion."

"Oh, is that the requirement?" She asks, and you hum. She fights a smile as she breaks eye contact with you to look down at her hands, which you notice are also bruised and cracked. "Dad told me you guys broke up." She says quietly. She looks so defeated with her slouched posture and nervous foot tapping. You know now is not a time to lie to her.

"Yeah, we did."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." 

"That's exactly what Dad said," she says. The idea of you and Joel parroting each other from opposite sides of the city pulls all the air from you and leaves you floundering. "I'm not a kid. You can tell me what happened." And she's right. She's fourteen. She's old enough to understand how relationships work, but you don't know if it's your place to tell her what happened. You don't know what you're allowed to tell her. You don't know if you're overstepping or how to fix it if you are. 

"Sometimes," you start uncertainly, hoping the words will find you along the way. "Sometimes, two people can really care about each other, but that doesn't mean they'll be together forever or even good for each other." You say, and she makes a face.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does," you sigh. "Now that I told you that, can you tell me why you're showing up at my doorstep at nine o'clock at night?" You change the subject, and she bites her bottom lip as her foot tapping speeds up. 

"Dad and I got into a fight." 

"Does it have anything to do with your shiner?" You ask, nodding in the direction of her black eye.

"He didn't even try to hear my side of the story!"

"Which is?" You ask, and she very quickly dives into a story of a kid who's been picking on her all year. She said she told Joel what was happening, and he said something about ignoring it or talking to the teacher, which wasn't working. Apparently, the kids' parents are some big-shot tech people the teachers don't like dealing with, so they were just gonna let him do whatever until the end of the school year. Today, he said something along the lines of Sarah's mom coming back and Ellie's mom never being able to.

"And I never even knew her! But that's still my fucking mom, and I know how sensitive Sarah is about Angela, and I just got so angry that I hit him. A lot." She says like she's waiting for you to argue with her, but you can't even imagine yelling at her after hearing that. You open your phone and open your notes app.

"What's your teacher's name?" You ask. She tells you, and you have to take several deep breaths to stop yourself from finding the teacher's phone number and calling him to ask him if he thinks it's acceptable for a student to taunt another student's dead mother. "I'll call the school on Monday, okay? That kind of behavior is disgusting, and you were justified in what you did." You say, grabbing her hand and squeezing. She nods and smiles softly as she looks at you, her dark brown eyes looking right through you. 

"You know, I don't usually like most of the people my dad dates," she says. "But I really liked you." Her use of the past tense cuts deep inside you, and you swallow thickly.

"Yeah. I like you too," you smile. "But, just because your dad and I aren't together anymore doesn't mean we can't still hang out or talk. I still care about you and your sister, and I've got quite a few movies I still need to watch." You say, and she nods, but there's something sad in her movements. You wonder if Joel told the girls about Ireland and how they reacted. Even if he didn't, Ellie is smart. She sees the boxes in your living room and the stuff piled together. She knows something is happening. Something that will impede future movie nights and emergency visits in the middle of the night. She shifts in her seat and lets go of your hand to tug at her ponytail, effectively retracting from you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Did you love my dad?" She asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. You think about lying or just not answering her question altogether, but that's not fair. She opened up to you. She trusted you, and you know what it feels like to have that trust broken or not reciprocated. You stare into her eyes and try to not get emotional.

"Yeah, I did." 

"Did you break up because of us?" 

"Honey, no. No, not at all," you say, perching on the edge of your chair so your knees are touching. "Your dad and I... have very different lives and schedules, and we tried. We really, really tried, but I don't think the timing is right for us. I don't know if it'll ever be right for us, but you and your sister had nothing to do with why we broke up, okay?" You say, slouching a little to get in her eye line, and she nods. "When I found out about you guys, I wasn't scared or intimidated. I was excited because your dad only ever told me how beautiful, and brilliant, and amazing, and kind his daughters were, but when I met you, you exceeded all that. You and Sarah have become two of my favorite people on this planet, and there will never be a time when I don't cheer you guys on or want what's absolutely best for you. I mean, if I didn't like you, do you think I would've opened the door?" You ask, and she laughs. The sound makes you smile, and you put your hand on her knee. 

"You, Ellie Miller, are going to do incredible things, and I can't wait to watch it." 

"Thank you." She says softly, and you nod. There, in your kitchen, you share a quiet moment with Ellie where neither of you needs to say anything more. The love says everything you can't bring yourself to voice just yet. If you squint, you can imagine what her mother must've looked like. All big eyes and toothy grins and wavy hair. But even without any actual Miller DNA flowing through her veins, you see Joel, too. You see how he raises his eyebrows or can't hide what he's thinking to save his life. You see his smile. You see his kindness and anxiety. You see all the best parts of him. This time with her feels like a warm hug, as much as a goodbye. Nostalgic and sad and welcome all at the same time. You don't know when you'll be able to sit at a table with Ellie Miller and just stare at her again, but you know if you never see her again, you can count yourself lucky to have met such an amazing young woman. She must make her mom so proud.

"You know I have to call your dad to tell him you're here, right?" You ask quietly, and she nods. You sit there for another second before grabbing your phone and walking into the next room to call Joel. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at his contact information, a picture of him with his tongue out still set as his contact photo. You took it on Facetime when he was still in Texas. He was complaining about how his stomach hurt from eating too much barbeque, and he was pretending to be dead. Even after everything, it still makes you smile. You press the call button before you lose the courage to do so. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, I can't really talk right now. Ellie and I got into a fight, and she ran off, and I don't know what to do. Has she talked to you? Do you know where she might be?" He says quickly, sounding frantic as he shuffles with something on the other end.

"Yeah, she showed up on my doorstep about thirty minutes ago. She's fine. A little upset, but she's safe." You say and hear him sigh with relief. 

"Thank God. Okay, I'm comin' to get her. Can you keep her there until I can get to your house?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," he says. Neither of you immediately ends the call, but you don't say anything either. You can hear him breathing and imagine him standing there, flush with worry, and grinding his teeth despite the number of times you've told him to stop. It's the closest you two have been in weeks. "I really fucked up." He finally says, and you take a breath.

"All the best parents do."

"Yeah?" He asks, that familiar lilt returning to his voice. Your heart squeezes, and you nod.

"Yeah. Reminds your kids that you're human too."

"I guess," he says. It's quiet for another five seconds before he clears his throat. "Thank you for takin' care of her."

"She's a good kid."

"Yeah, she is." 

"I'll..." you start. You know you're talking in circles but don't want to get off the phone. He waits you out. "I'll see you soon." You finally say, and the phone moves against his ear.

"See you soon." He says, hesitating before ending the call. You exhale and stare at his contact photo for another second before locking your phone and walking back to the main living area. Ellie has moved from the dining room table to the couch, an old leather-bound book in her hands. You tilt your head to read the title. Much Ado About Nothing. One of your favorite Shakespeare plays that you never got to do. You perch on the edge of the couch near Ellie and smile when she puts her book down to look at you.

"That book looks older than you." 

"That's 'cause it is. It was my dad's in high school." She says, and you look at her, confused. 

"What?"  

"Yeah. He said his music teacher bought it for him or something. Dad really liked him. Wrote his name down in the acknowledgments in his first album and everything." She shrugs like it's nothing. Suddenly, you're back in New York with Joel, his hand over your heart as he listens to you recite a centuries-old monologue.

"He told me he didn't study Shakespeare in school."

"He probably didn't want you to know he's a massive nerd. He loves it. He made us go to the Globe Theatre when we were in England. It was actually pretty cool," she yawns. "I'm tired. Can I go lay down in one of the beds until my dad gets here?" 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's fine. My room is up the stairs and to the left. I just got new pillows, so that'll probably be the most comfortable." You say, your brain still struggling to piece together what she just said. She yawns again and gives you a thumbs-up before standing with her book in hand and disappearing up the stairs.

Joel told you he didn't know anything about something you, apparently, both love. Why? Was he quizzing you? Was he trying to figure out if you actually know what you're talking about? Or was he trying to get another perspective? Did he pretend not to know so you could explain it to him in your own way? How the fuck did you not know? You want to call and ask him all these things, but you don't. You wait.

You rotate between anxiously pacing your living room, checking on Ellie (who's snoring in your bed with the book open next to her), organizing and reorganizing your stuff into boxes. Anything to keep your mind busy until Joel can get there. From the time you ended the call to when your front door opened and closed quietly, twenty minutes had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Joel walks into the living room like it's his own house and smiles when he sees you, looking around the room for Ellie. He wearing his own glasses and a plain black shirt with jeans. The bags under his eyes are prominent, and his hair is messy. He looks exhausted.

"She went upstairs to lie down and fell asleep. I didn't want to wake her up." You answer his unspoken question, and he nods, his shoulders visibly dropping.

"No, that's okay. I'm glad she's gettin' some rest," he says, sighing deeply. "Did she tell you bout our fight?" 

"A little bit, yeah," you say, and he grimaces. You glance between the place where you and Ellie were sitting and him. "Do you wanna sit?" You ask, and he nods. Carefully, without even grazing each other, you sit across from him and stare at him. You don't know what you're supposed to say. You don't know if you're supposed to say anything. 

"You still doin' that movie with Pike?" He beats you to it, and you nod. There's no frustration or anger in his question, only curiosity. 

"I leave for Ireland in two weeks." 

"Ireland's beautiful." 

"It is." You say, not sure how else to respond. He shifts in his seat and looks at his hands as he nervously taps a rhythm into your table. 

"Thank you again for takin' her in and makin' sure she was safe. I really appreciate it." He says.

"I'm just happy she knew she could come here."

"Me too," he says. "Can we... do you wanna... I just need to say I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I'm sorry. I should've been better and more honest and less of a dick. You didn't deserve that." He word vomits, and your fingers twitch to reach for his. You take a deep breath and stare at him, watching his emotions play out behind his glasses.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say. "And I'm sorry, too. For everything. I wish things could be different."

"We could start over. Maybe try again," he says, his voice sad like he's trying, but he knows your answer won't change. "I don't... I don't know how to do this. But I wanna learn. I wanna learn for you." His words cut straight through to your heart, and your eyes flutter shut. You pinch the inside of your thigh to stop tears from forming, and take a shaky breath. He doesn't rush you. When you open your eyes, he's staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

"Sarah's gonna need you as she figures her mom out. It's gonna be hard, and she loves you more than I've ever seen a teenage girl love her dad. Ellie's gonna feel out of place, and she's gonna need you too. It wouldn't be fair to any of you to add this," you gesture between the two of you. "To that mix. It'd be too much. None of us would feel good about it. We'd all walk away a little burned and lot pissed off. I don't want that for us." You say, and he nods.  

"It's a nice dream." He says sadly.

"It is," you agree. "Can I ask you a question?"

"'Course." 

"When did it stop being fake for you?" You ask. He shakes his head, and his Adam's apple bobs.

"It was never fake for me. It just took me a little longer to figure out," he says, and you pinch your thigh again. "What bout you?"

"Texas," you admit, only a little ashamed at how late your answer is in comparison. "When you called me every day from Texas. That's when it stopped being fake for me," a tear spills from your eye, and Joel wipes it away before you can. His thumb is warm and familiar, and you almost lean into his touch before it can disappear completely. "This sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"Do I, at least, get to know what songs on the newest album are about me?" You joke, and he laughs. He presses his lips together and rests his head on his hand as he looks at you.

"All of 'em," he says. "All of 'em are about you. Bout meetin' you or the way you talk in your sleep, but a lot of 'em are about New York."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"That was a good time," you say. "Ellie, um... Ellie told me about your trip to the Globe Theatre. Told me all about how much her dad loves Shakespeare," he chuckles like a kid caught with candy, and you smile. "Why'd you tell me you didn't know anything about it?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I really don't. I was thinkin' bout it the other day, and I just remembered seein' how much you loved it. Your eyes got real wide, and you got so excited, and I just... wanted to hear you talk about it. I think I would've stayed there with you all day if I could've." He says. You have to look away from him to hide to tears pooling in your eyes. 

This shouldn't be this hard. You're supposed to meet someone you love, and nothing else matters, and you get to be with that person forever. It's hard, but you get your whole lives to figure it out together. Who did you hurt in a past life that took this opportunity away? It's not fair. You want to rip the sky apart and scream at God and demand an explanation. You want someone to blame. You want more time. You want him, and not just the good parts that made you fall in love with him. You want the broken and ridged parts he's still hiding from you. You want the parts he hates. You want to lay them out on the table and show him you don't flinch when they catch the light. 

He puts his hand on your shoulder as tears fall from your eyes, and you sniffle. His thumb presses soothingly into your skin, and you let him. You shouldn't, but you do. You don't fall into his arms and sob like you want to. No, just like every juncture of your life thus far, you let yourself cry quietly and without fuss because there are things to do. And when you're done, you turn to look at him and see tears staining his cheeks too. You cover his hand with yours and squeeze his fingers, and he takes a deep breath.

"What are we gonna do now?" He asks. You pull his hand off your shoulder and hold it in your lap, both your hands covering his large one. You smile through your tears and kiss the top of his hand.

"I'm gonna go to Ireland, and you're gonna release your album. It'll hit the top of the charts overnight, and people will be singing your praises from the rooftops and speculating on what different songs mean like they always do. I'll lie in interviews and say I haven't listened to it, but I will because it'll be yours. You and the girls and Tommy'll go on tour, and I'll be there filming, and we'll try to talk when we can, but our schedules will get in the way until we don't think about each other all the time. I'll probably lose my mind because it rains so much in Ireland, and you'll go from selling out stadiums to crying at Sarah's graduation. And we'll both work way more than we should. And life'll go on like we were never really here," you say. "And maybe one day, when we're in LA at the same time, and nothing is stopping us and our schedules align, we'll get a coffee. And we'll talk. And we'll try again." You wipe Joel's tears away and try to keep yourself from falling apart. 

"I'll mark it on my calendar." He says, and you laugh. You squeeze his hand and nod.

"I'm counting on it, Miller."

You sit there for a few more minutes before you stand and hug him. It's quick. It has to be, but it's enough to settle your heart for a moment. Joel goes upstairs, scoops Ellie in his arms, and carefully carries her out to his car. He buckles her in and turns on the air conditioning so she doesn't get too hot in the California night. You stand outside, watching him be a dad, with your arms crossed over your chest. He shuts the door quietly and walks over to you.

"I hope you have a lot of fun in Ireland." He says sincerely.

"Thank you," you say. "I hope you have a great tour."

"Thanks," he nods. He looks over his shoulder to check on Ellie in the passenger seat before turning back to you. "I should get her home. She's had a long day."

"Of course." 

"I'll, uh... I'll see you around, okay?" He asks, and your heart jumps to your throat.

"I'll see you around, Joel." With that, he walks to the driver's side door, and you walk back toward your house, the space between you growing and growing as you get further away. Your chest hurts, and you know you're gonna go inside to cry some more, but you don't turn around. Not until he calls your name.

"I love you," he says from where he's standing in front of his truck. "And I don't expect you to say anything or change your mind, but I wanted you to know. I love you." Your hands are shaking, and your throat feels like it's tightening, but you manage to give him a weak smile.

"I love you, too." 

And then, he gets in his car and drives away with his daughter in the front seat. You go back to your empty house and your piles of stuff, and you cry, and in the back of your mind, you think, if I never speak to Joel Miller again, I think that's okay. I think it has to be.

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #the last of us au #I can’t believe I forgot my tags

[idiotsofoz]

(It’s cringe fail I’m sorry)

Dallon struggled in the restraints, thrashing like a chained animal.

Addy tilted her head at him “You need to hold still A, your only going to hurt yourself more”

He tried to catch his breath, still shaking but attempting to stop the erratic movements “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry- please please-“ he babbled

“Oh honey, it’s too late for that” she said, her voice sickly sweet. Dallon watched her retrieve a scalpel from a metal tray of shiny blades. “Now, do you know why I’m doing this, hun?”

“I- I- please-“

She held the scalpel to dallon’s chest “I asked you a question subject A”

Dallon’s body tensed, panicking shooting through him “i- I tried to escape” he managed, his voice cracking as the tears started again “..please”

She started to dig the blade into his chest, causing him to squirm again “are you sorry, subject A?”

“Yes! Yes! Please, please I’ll never- I’ll never do it again- just please-!”

She made a long thin slice along Dallon's chest, red stained his white clothes and he began to feel faint “your a horrible liar, subject A”

And then Dallon’s vision started to tunnel

Dallon groaned as consciousness started to return to him, his head was pounding and his body felt sore. He felt hands running through his hair “..ry’n?” He mumbled

“Hey, how you feelin’?” Ryan said softly

“Mm…awful”

Ryan laughed a little “yeah, I’d imagine. You scared the shit out of me, dude”

Dallon opened his eyes and yawned, attempting to sit up “sorry I scared you”

“ ‘s Not your fault”

Dallon looked down at himself, he was wearing different clothes then before but he could still make out flecks of blood near where the first cut must have been “is it bad?”

Ryan blinked “What?”

“The- the cuts. Are they bad? Did you look?”

Ryan looked at the floor “I mean..they’ve done worse. The stitches are nasty, though”

Dallon poked at the injury “The next party is tomorrow, do you think they’ll let me..”

“I’ll tell ‘em you can’t go, don’t worry”

Dallon giggled softly “I appreciate the sentiment but you know they aren’t gonna listen to you”

“Come on, have some faith in me! And anyway, your one to talk, Mr. escape attempt”

Dallon sighed, leaning against Ryan “it was less an escape attempt and more me having a panic attack in a parking lot cause I was too scared to actually leave”

Ryan rolled his eyes “oh come on, don’t say that”

“It’s true, I mean..god, I’m too much of a coward to ever actually do anything.”

“Well that’s why I’m here”

Dallon blinked “huh?”

“To make sure you get out of the parking lot, you know?”

Dallon laughed a little, his throat was so sore it kind of hurt “I’ll hold you to that”

“Deal”

oughhh they're sooooo..... subject A unable to do anything but beg for forgiveness...... getting too scared to go through with escaping....... explodes and dies

#this reminded me i never finished the oneshot of the prompt you sent me OOPS!! im gonna do that i forgot about it #asks #long post #cw blood #tlx

[rollingsins]

Love Scenes

pairing: florence pugh x reader

summary:  Florence gets jealous after you film a love scene. Smut. Based on a request from @moonflowcrr (thank you for the inspiration love!) 

word count: 2.1k

warnings: oral, fingering, dirty talk, face-sitting, f/f

You’d done sex scenes before, plenty of them, but this was the first you’d ever done with your girlfriend watching. 

His name’s Ryan, you think, you only met him three hours ago. But he’s shirtless and so are you, your hands are on his back, his tongue in your mouth. 

“Cut,” The director cries out, and you retract from him. 

Florence stands on the corner of the room, her arms crossed as she watches. Your stomach flips at her expression; she looks irritated and you know exactly why. Ryan isn’t exactly the epitome of professionalism. He keeps trying to talk to you in the breaks, flexing his muscles every time your eyes are on him. You hadn’t discussed using tongue either, yet he kept slipping it to you like some drunk frat boy who’d never properly learned how to kiss. 

“Let’s go again!” The director calls out, and you look back at Florence, catching her eye. You blow her a kiss, then clamber into bed with Ryan, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself as he climbs on top of you. He’s not bad looking, you suppose, trying to pull yourself back into character. You press your hands against his biceps, as he angles himself between your legs. 

“Alright, shooting in 3, 2-” 

He kisses you again, slams his hips against yours as he pretends to fuck you. 

You moan, lace your fingers through his hair as if you enjoyed it. He thrusts again, once, twice, until his body goes stiff against you he pretends to cum. 

The director cuts again, and he rolls off you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Hey,” He says, voice almost a whisper, “I thought this was a closed set, do you know why she’s here?” 

She can only be one person; Florence openly stares at the two of you through narrowed eyes, eyes on him like a hawk. 

“She is the star.” You answer, shifting uncomfortably. You and Florence had agreed to keep your relationship a secret for the shoot, not wanting the entire crew gawping at the two of you for the next three months, “Maybe she just wants to make sure the scene is good?” 

Ryan hums, not quite convinced by your argument. 

“I don’t know,” He says, licking his lips, “She kind of looks- I don’t know, jealous?” 

Your heart flips. She did look jealous, you agreed privately. For an actress she isn’t that great at hiding her feelings, at least not her feelings for you. 

“Don’t be silly,” You say, but Ryan isn’t listening anymore, looking over at her. 

“Do you know if she has a boyfriend?” 

“I-“ You look at him, and this time it’s your turn to be jealous. 

“I mean, she’s pretty hot, I’m not going to lie-” He continues, looking her up and down. 

“Yeah, she has a boyfriend. He’s a big guy, used to be a bodybuilder.” You lie, staring daggers, “I wouldn’t mess with him.” 

Ryan’s eyes widen, “Oh, right. Well thanks for the warning.” 

His fingers are suddenly on your arm, a coy smile on his face. 

“You know, you’re a really good kisser. Even if you were just acting-”

“That’s a wrap!” 

You’ve never been so pleased for a wrap, rolling off the bed ungracefully in an attempt to get away from him. 

“Yeah, you too. See you round, Ryan.” You mumble out behind you, draping a robe around your body. He stares after you as you approach Florence and walk out with her. 

You lead her off the set, and out into the yard. 

“Thank god that’s over.” You say, linking your arm with hers and resting your head on her shoulder. 

She slides a protective arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head. 

“That guy is an oaf, totally unprofessional.”  She complains all the way back to the trailer, “I’m going to have a word about him.” 

“No you’re not,” You tell her sternly, “I told you, no meddling. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Fine,” Florence concedes, entwining your fingers, “Let’s go back to your trailer, I want to show you something.” 

“You’re not slick,” You tell her knowingly as she licks her lips, glancing down at your chest. 

“I’m pretty slick,” She says with a smile, pulling you into your trailer and shutting the door behind her. 

She presses you against the wall, her lips finding yours. You smile against her, letting your head fall back as she pressed her lips against your neck. 

“It was kind of hot.” She murmurs, lips on your ear, “Watching some wanktard all over you, trying to take what’s mine.” 

Her hand reaches out and she cups you through your underwear. You whimper. 

She pulls your robe open, “Are you naked under this?” She asks, cheeky smile on her lips. You are, she discovers quickly, and it’s not long before the robe is discarded to the floor.

She wraps her arms around your waist, captures your lips with a hungry vigor. Her hands dip down to your ass, squeeze gently, then slink around to your front. 

You moan into her mouth as she strokes you up and down, teasing you. You frown, tugging gently at her shirt. “Off.” You murmur against her lips. She obliges, pulling away from your kiss to lift her shirt over her head. Her nipples are hard, and they press against your own as she sweeps back in to kiss you again. 

“Pants too.” You say, pulling away from her lips to fumble with her belt buckle. She whines and tries to kiss you again, but you withhold from her, wanting her naked against you. She concedes quickly, slipping out of her jeans and then pulling you against her, her lips on your neck. 

You fall back onto the bed, her on top of you, desperately kissing, your fingers intertwined with hers, her knee against you, grinding into you. 

She presses kisses down your neck, onto your chest until she’s moving lower, lips grazing your abdomen as she looks up at you. 

“Where do you want me baby?” She asks, her lips on your inner thigh, smiling coyly. 

“You know where.” Your hands reach down to grip onto her hair, trying to move her face where you want it. 

“Do I?” She ponders, then presses a kiss to your knee, pulling your legs over her shoulders. 

She dips down, and then you feel her tongue at your entrance, licking you ever so slightly. You sigh, reach out to stroke the hair out of her eyes so you can watch her. She looks up at you through hooded eyes, her pupils getting wider the longer she tastes you. Suddenly, her mouth is on your clit, her tongue languid in her exploration of you. Your head falls back and you moan, your grip on her hair tightening. 

Then she stops. You groan, looking down to protest but she’s already kissing her way back up your body, her fingers slipping down to take the place of her tongue. 

She slips her tongue into your mouth, her fingers circling your clit in a steady motion. Her weight on top of you feels impossibly good, her kisses like wildfire. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her tighter against you, your fingernails digging into the milky skin of her back. She likes when you mark her, you can tell by the way her kisses become more frantic, and just as you scratch your fingernails down the bare skin of her back, she slips two fingers inside of you. 

You gasp against her as she begins to rock into you, curling her fingers against your sweetest spot. She’s wet, you can feel it against your thigh, and the thought of her being so turned on from fucking you sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. 

“You like that honey?” She murmurs into your ear, taking it between her teeth.  “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes baby, so good.” You say, burying your face into her neck as she pumps her fingers in a little harder, “Don’t stop.” 

“Tell me whose girl you are.” Florence murmurs, lips on your jaw. 

“Your girl, I’m your girl.” You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed.

“That’s right.” She says, “You’re mine. All mine. Every inch of you.” 

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth, bites down gently. 

“Even when someone else is on you, I’m the only one who gets to do this.” She curls her fingers again, rubbing her thumb against your clit. “I’m the only one who gets to be inside you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes,” You gasp, “You’re the only one Flo.” 

She smiles, pressing her lips to yours briefly, gently. Then, she dips down, increasing her pace.

She presses kisses to your neck as she fucks you. You tangle your fingers in her hair as that familiar thrum overtakes your body, until you're gasping and breathless. 

“I’m gonna cum, Flo.” You gasp out and she captures your lips in a fierce kiss as your orgasm overtakes you, her fingers working into you furiously. 

You hold onto her, sighing as you come down, letting her dot lazy kisses to your chest. She pulls her fingers out of you, and you feel them against your thighs as she repositions herself, reaching up to touch herself. 

Your stomach coils with arousal as you watch her rub her own clit, your nipple in between her lips. 

“Come up here.” You murmur, your hands on the back of her thighs, tugging her up to you. 

She smiles, settling herself over your face as you lean up to taste her. She’s drenched, the taste of her perfect as you lick her clean, your hands like iron around her thighs, holding her in place. You lips close around her clit, sucking gently and she moans, sinking down onto your mouth. 

You flick your tongue against her clit, just the way she likes, until her breath is shortening, and you feel her thighs contract around you head. You suck her clit lovingly, riding her through her orgasm, until she’s calling out your name. Then, her grip on you loosens, and she’s falling off you and onto the mattress next to you. 

You turn, wrap your arms around her and press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Love you.” You murmur, and she smiles, dipping her head into your neck and pulling you against her. “Love you too.” 

You lay like that for a while, just holding her until a quiet knock at your trailer door leaves you both startled.

“Who the hell is that?” Florence asks, reaching out for your discarded robe. She ties it around herself, leaning over to kiss you, “Don’t you go anywhere my darling,” She says, “I’m not done with you yet.” 

You pull the sheets over your naked body, sitting up to watch as she opens the door. It’s Ryan, you can tell by the look on her face. 

“Oh,” You hear Ryan say, sounding confused, “I um- sorry, I was looking for YN?” 

Florence smiles at him, wryly, “She’s in bed, can I take a message?” 

Your cheeks flame red, and you groan into your hands. 

“She’s - she’s what? Well, can I come in?” 

He steps forward, and you see a brief flash of him before Florence’s arm jerks out, blocking the door. 

“I wouldn’t mate,” Florence says, “She’s not wearing anything.” 

“Oh. Oh.” You can’t see him, but you can tell by his tone he’s gawping. 

“See you later Ryan,” Florence says sweetly before she shuts the door in his face. 

She moves back to you, slipping out of your robe as she climbs back into bed. She pulls you into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“What happened to not saying anything?” You ask, resting your head on her chest, “Now the entire crew is going to know we’re sleeping together.” 

She dips down, kisses you softly. 

“Well maybe I want them to know.” 

You look at her, stroke her cheek. 

“You’re not actually jealous of Ryan are you?” 

“Please,” She rolls her eyes, “I just didn't like the way he was looking at you. Like you were his for the taking. And now he knows.” 

“Knows what?’ You ask her, already knowing the answer. You like when she says it, the look in her eye when she claims you as her own. 

“That you’re mine.” She presses down, kisses you softly. You hum against her lips, pressing yourself closer to her. 

“I don’t think he knows it yet.” You tell her,  “Maybe he needs to hear it one more time. You know, just so he’s really sure.” 

The look in her eye is devilish as she climbs on top of you. “I think maybe you’re right.” 

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #mine #yelena belova x reader #fanfiction #imagines #florence pugh imagine

[bratkook]

almost. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost, right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, baby angst, smut word count. 6.4k warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?,  more feelings come to light!! summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye

The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face. 

The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”

Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him. 

“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee. 

Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do. 

“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”

“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love. 

Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast. 

He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?

“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen. 

“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”

Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“

With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”

That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along. 

“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile. 

“I’ve actually—“

“You know what I—“

You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first. 

“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”

He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”

“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”

“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup. 

“How do you go about it?”

“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing. 

“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups. 

He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl. 

So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups. 

“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night. 

“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again. 

“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”

Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”

“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.” 

“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”

Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips. 

Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book. 

“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”

You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”

Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel. 

Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look. 

“What?”

His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him. 

He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original. 

“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all. 

“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in. 

“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat. 

“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for. 

No. That’s not what he wants. 

Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it. 

“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”

You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in. 

He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks. 

“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether. 

Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”

Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”

He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it. 

“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages. 

Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies. 

All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser. 

It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok. 

Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that. 

When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family. 

But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now. 

Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had. 

“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.

In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom. 

The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax. 

Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight. 

What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping. 

So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened. 

Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did. 

You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed. 

You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear. 

Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube. 

“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base. 

You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you. 

With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz. 

Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep? 

“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch. 

Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you. 

He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do. 

His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did. 

The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer. 

The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind. 

How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor. 

The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are. 

The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock. 

That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm. 

Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?

As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over. 

“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation. 

The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets. 

The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity. 

When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit. 

With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang. 

Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else. 

All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you. 

When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum. 

“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase. 

His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send. 

Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?

When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that. 

Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok. 

Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol

Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though

Y/N 1:26am : like right now

Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room

Y/N 1:27am : haha

He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again. 

Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!

Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else. 

Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend. 

Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about. 

And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief. 

The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge. 

“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him. 

The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore. 

So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.

#heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #bts fics #new

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

#chenrich fanfic #send me chenrich prompts #i dare you #chenrich #alex chen #alex chen × steph gingrich #steph gingrich

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker - Morgan’s best friend Peter

I’ve seen these incredible posts going around by @fearlesstarker : so I just had to write a little something. Fluff ahead, kids.

Morgan tries to take a moment to really think about it.

She sits back and straightens her spine; the way she does in class when she’s about to prove that everyone in the room- including her professor- is a moron. She cocks her head, examines Peter Parker opposite her, and thinks about it. Truly thinks about it.

“Yes,” she concludes after a moment, all the data filing away neatly, everything coming up a match.

Peter looks up at her, eyes rimmed-red with tears, hair a brown, scraggly mess atop his head. “What do you mean?” He sniffles, still in his pyjamas, still smelling like cologne too expensive to be his.

“You and my dad.” She says, nodding, “Yes.” She gets up and heads to the kitchen. She has a studio-apartment, of course. Her dad would settle for nothing less.

Peter follows at her heels: radiating anxiety. “Morgan, I-”

“It’s fine, Peter. Do you want some tea?” Never espresso’s for Peter, he has enough energy as it is. She pulls down two white ceramic mugs.

“Morgan.” He says again, voice firmer this time. Deeper. She still remembers hearing it break when they were both thirteen, curled up together in a tent on the school’s camping trip.

They’d been shit at building their tent. It had collapsed in the middle of the night and they’d lain there, under stars, sharing secrets. His voice had cracked for the very first time, and she was the first person to know, and she’d held his hand and-

“Morgan.”

The mugs are shaking in her hands.

“Morgan, look at me.”

His hands then, on her shoulders, turning her round, and she’s being hugged by her best friend. By her brother. By Peter B Parker.

He’s taller than her- but only in the physical sense, and she buries her face in his chest and tears come and he holds her so tight- like he doesn’t remember how strong he is. Like he thinks he’s still that scrawny thirteen year old who needed Morgan to protect him from bullies. But he isn’t. Not really.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into her hair, then thinks better of it. He pulls away and looks into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry I slept with your dad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to. I’m sorry for keeping this a secret. I’m so, so sorry.”

She wants to tell him it’s okay, but she’s crying too hard.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” He vows, his voice breaking, “it was a one-time thing. I won’t- I won’t pursue it. Not if you’re not okay with it. I’m sure- I- I know your dad feels the same way.”

“It’s just so…”

“I know.” Peter cuts her off, pained, “I know how it looks. But I promise- it isn’t like that. We connected last summer, remember? When he helped me fix up my car? And-and it was like we were seeing each other for the first time. He’s a good man, your dad, I swear, Morgs, and-and-please, please don’t hate me-”

“God, Peter.” She laughs, watery and honest, “I’m not upset because of any of that! “ She smacks his shoulder. “How can you know me so well and be so blind? I’m scared I’ll lose you. You’re mine, Peter Parker, d’you hear me?”

His face breaks into the most glorious smile, and she knows she loves him the way she loved him when they were thirteen. When she understood family was so much more than blood. “All yours.” He promises. “That will never change.”

She believes him. She sighs, and wipes her cheeks, and nods, pulling herself together. “Well alright then,” she breathes, “but don’t think for one second I’m calling you dad.”

His laughter sounds like music.

***

Evidently, she’s not the only one who thinks so.

Because a month later, she’s sitting at the dining table, and her dad’s setting down something that looks dangerously like home-made spaghetti, and there are candles on the table, and it’s subtle- but she can see it.

Her dad’s sweating.

“Looks good.” She says, even though it doesn’t, trying to calm him down.

Tony gives her a knowing look. She grins at him.

“Don’t sass me, baby Stark. I spent all day on this and in spite of DUM-E’s best efforts, there weren’t even any fires.”

“Not any?” She arches her eyebrow.

Tony winces.

Peter...laughs.

Morgan watches how her dad lights up at the sound. How he brandishes his serving spoon at Peter warningly, and their eyes meet, and there’s a moment- something soft- and raw- just like the meatballs.

“I’ll get us take-out,” Morgan says gently, and she’s worried for a second, that they don’t hear her. That this is how it’ll be from now on- she used to be both of their number ones, and now she’s both of their number two’s.

She orders from the Chinese place across the road- the one that knows them, and the three of them sit in front of the TV and settle in for a movie.

Peter dishes out, and he serves Morgan first. All the spring-rolls and the crispiest noodles.

Something small- bright and lovely- burns within her as she takes her plate.

And when, during the film, she and Peter begin to doze off- it’s her who gets the blanket first. Draped lovingly over her by her dad. It’s her head he kisses before he tends to Peter and she knows- she hasn’t lost anything.

She has only gained.

*

The Press-

Don’t care. It’s weird. Morgan keeps waiting for the backlash. In fact, all of Tony’s team seem to be waiting, but it never comes. It seems that most people expect handsome billionaires to have boyfriends half their age.

“Huh,” Peter says, in a new, custom-made suit that compliments his skin-tone, “I guess that means you’re old news, Tony Stark,” and he kisses the edge of Tony’s mouth. Morgan pretends not to watch.

Her dad turns to Peter, grinning, mischievous, young in a way he hasn’t seemed in a while. “Don’t worry. I can do something about that.”

*

Proposing to Peter on the red carpet for GLAMOUR’s man of the year award does spark the headlines.

“Really, dad?” Morgan laughs, phone nestled into the crook of her neck because she can’t find her airpods.

“What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“More like a flair for the idiotic.” Comes another voice, a little muffled, and Morgan smiles.

“Is that Peter? Tell him I say hi.”

“Morgan says hi.”

“Oh! Say hey back.”

“Peter says hey.”

“Is he coming up for the LA workshop?”

“Are you coming up for the- hey, you know what, you talk to each other.”

“So grouchy in the morning.” Peter teases, and there’s the sound of kissing, and Morgan faux-retches.

*

When she thought about it, way at the start, she did the pros and the cons. Their obvious compatibility, mutual interests, and potential were some of the heaviest pros.

There were cons, too.

When she makes the drive up, through snow and sleet, back to Stark Tower. Back into New York. In the middle of her academic year even though her dad told her it was fine (and she knew it wasn’t fine) she sees him sitting in his lab, buried deep in work.

“Dad.” She says quietly, ruffling his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he says gruffly, voice rough from dis-use. “I told you, you didn’t have to come. Tell me you didn’t drive in this weather. I would have had Happy-”

“Dad.” She says again, because she’s learnt from watching Peter how to deal with people who are just a little too clever and a little too impatient. Who does he think she gets it from?

She rests her head on his shoulder and Tony sets down his instruments, but Morgan’s already seen the way his hands were shaking.

“You guys will be okay.” She promises, because she’s a genius but also because there are some things you just know for sure. Without a doubt.

*

She finds Peter at a bar outside of Cal-Tech.

He’s nursing an orange juice, but he smells like whiskey.

He cringes when he sees her. “Morgan, I know this must be so awkward-”

“A whiskey neat.” She tells the bar-tender, who squints at her like he’s trying to figure out her age, before recognizing her and stumbling in his haste to obey. “Nothing to be awkward about.” She says. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I love you both. Let’s just drink and maybe do some karaoke.”

Peter peers at her, as if trying to gauge her sincerity, and he slides back onto the barstool. “Okay,” he says eventually, “but only if it’s High School Musical. And only if I get to be Troy.”

“You can be Ryan.”

“If you’re Chad.”

They grin at each other.

Everything’s going to be okay.

*

Morgan’s the one in a white dress at the wedding and that feels...right, somehow. Weird. But right.

Her dad’s in some designer ocean-blue suit. It looks effortless on him. Peter’s in a deep burgundy, a bordeaux, and he cups Tony’s jaw in his hand and whispers something that makes Tony’s entire body ease. Tensionless. Free from burden.

Morgan hasn’t seen that very often.

There’s crying (theirs, Morgan will insist to the tabloids, and not hers at all) and there are doves, and the beach, and food, and dancing and golden rings on fingers.

A little after midnight, she’s about to head back to the hotel when she sees them. Two lone figures under the stars.

“How was that?” Tony whispers, arm around Peter’s waist, voice soft as waves.

“Pretty good for a first wedding.” Peter teases, kissing the underside of Tony’s jaw. “It was perfect, Tony. But everything’s perfect with you.”

“I’m not perfect,” he whispers.

“No.” Peter agrees, smiling, and he wraps his arms around Tony’s neck. “We are imperfectly perfect together. I love you.”

Tony kisses him like he can’t help himself, before he pulls back and traces Peter’s eyelashes. “I love you.”

Then, both of them, together: “We love you too, Morgan.”

She gasps, and darts back into the shadows- all fruitless, of course. They’ve seen her. They will always see her.

But then the taxi comes and she sees her own face in the rear-view mirror.

She’s smiling. Just as hard as they are.

#fluff #starker #Peter and Morgan are best friends #Morgan stark #Tony stark #Peter parker #college student peter #college student morgan #marriage

[perriewinklenerdie]

Festival (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,2 k

Summary: Ethan takes Claire out for a date.

Warnings: None

A/N: Guess who’s back. Back again. Consider this my ‘I’m back, my dudes’ fic. I dipped my toes back into writing, hence the length of this fic. Please enjoy this fluff fest.

„Ethan Ramsey eating cotton candy? Never thought I’d see that day coming.” Claire grinned, teasing her boyfriend slightly. His hand, that was moving a piece of fluffy sugar to his mouth, froze halfway and his eyes shifted towards her. Something like a hint of a blush appeared on his neck, making her giggle even more.

“Childhood nostalgia, you could say.” Ethan shrugged, then finally took a bite of his treat. The corners of Claire’s eyes crinkled a tiny bit, her voice suspiciously innocent.

“God forbid anyone taking a photo. Tobias would never let you live that down if he knew.”

“Tobias finds the most ridiculous things to ‘not let me live down’, so you’re right, cotton candy would not be an exception. Good thing no one’s around to take a pho- “ his words get cut at the sound of the photo being taken. When he looks over at his girlfriend again, she’s holding up her phone, still taking photos. “Claire?”

“Oops.” She bit her lip, hiding her phone into her purse. Ethan took a step towards her, a smirk growing on his face. Claire tilted her head, making a show of looking sideways as though she was looking for a way to run. An act that would be impossible to pull off in her condition – a twisted ankle doesn’t make it easy to walk, let alone run.

While she was weighing her options, Ethan looped his arm around her waist, bringing their bodies closer. His lips hovered over hers, barely brushing as they talked.

“You think you’re cute when you do that, don’t you?” he hummed, looking intensely at her lips before moving to her eyes. Claire shrugged.

“No.” she pecked his lips a few times, shortly and playfully, making him laugh. “I know I am.”

“You’re so attractive when you’re confident.” Ethan muttered, tightening his hold on her, lifting her slightly to let her rest her injured foot on his. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip again and his eyes followed the movement instantly. “Even more when you do that.”

“Yeah? That’s sexy to you?” She threw her arms over his shoulders, fingers tangling into the hair on the back of his head. He nodded firmly, schooling his features into a look of certainty.

“Incredibly.”

She guided him into a real kiss. It was short-lived – their surrounding incredibly sufficient in reminding them that they were not alone. A man bumped into Ethan, throwing the pair off balance a bit. He opened his mouth to call out after the man, but Claire silenced him with a finger pressed to his mouth.

“Maybe a festival isn’t the best place for a hot make out session, huh?” she whispered, taking a cautious step backwards. He held onto her shoulder, stabilizing her.

“I’ll make sure to pick it back up as soon as I get you alone. Now.” he turned around and bent his knees a little. “Your carriage awaits, ma’am.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She played along, both of them laughing. He helped her climb onto his back, his grip secure on her thighs.

That’s the way Claire’s been traveling for the whole day, hospital included. She considered crutches, but after tripping twice and not being able to do her work efficiently enough, she decided to take it easy and take a day off. Fortunately for her, she had an in with the Chief – who, coincidentally, decided to take a day off as well, carrying her out of the hospital around noon.

The idea for a date night out appeared in Ethan’s head when he saw festival stands being set up on their way home. Before they both knew it, they were dressed and thrown into the middle of a crowd, bright lights and music surrounding them. If anyone asked Ethan three years ago if he’d willingly go to a festival, he would laugh in their face and call them delusional. Here he was, however, carrying his injured girlfriend on his back as she pointed towards various attractions they just had to try.

“How is that possible that you’ve never tried this before?” she wondered as he sat her down in the seat attached to the game booth. They were about to shoot some fake guns in hopes of knocking down targets. Well, Ethan was – he saw Claire’s eyes lighting up playfully at the sight of the plush bear dressed like a doctor and he decided to win it for her.

All would be well if it wasn’t for the fact that Ethan was spectacularly bad at shooting targets – he wasn’t tragically bad, but two out of twelve targets he managed to hit weren’t nearly enough to win them the prize. That’s when Claire leaned out of her seat, taking the gun from him.

“Pay the nice lady for another game. It’s my turn.” She winked, lining up her shot.

“You know how to shoot?” he asked while passing the bill to the lady in the corner of the booth. His question was answered when she hit the first target. Dead center. Then the second one, and every other after that, until all the targets were lying flat.

“Take that, you stupid duck!” Claire exclaimed triumphally, placing the gun back into its holder. When she turned towards Ethan, she was met with his wide eyes. “Does that answer your question, babe?”

“How- “

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think Ryan Herondale would teach his children how to shoot a gun. We are spoiled rich, after all.” She grinned, then turned towards the lady. “We’ll take the doctor teddy bear, please.”

The teddy didn’t remain in her hands for long – she passed it to Ethan the moment they were in some distance from the booth.

“Here. Never hurts to practice CPR some more.” She tried not to laugh too much, but she couldn’t help herself as he looked at her with betrayal in his eyes.

“Oh, so now you believe me it was CPR?”

“I have to.” she sighed, then hopped around him until she was facing his back. Climbing onto the tips of her toes, she whispered into his ear. “If I didn’t, it would mean that you’ll be kissing someone other than me. And we can’t have that.” She jumped onto his back, turning his head with her hands so she could press her lips to his cheek. “Now, let’s go get some food so we can get home and practice kissing, huh?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He mused, squeezing her thighs. “As soon as I get you home, you’ll be saying my name- “ he growled, prompting Claire to cover his mouth with her hand and a breathless ‘Ethan Ramsey!’ near his ear. “Yes, exactly like that.” He added. Her laughter trailed behind them as they went into the direction of their next destination.

Notes

We all know he was kissing that bear.

Anyway, if you made it this far, thank you. Thank you all for still being here, I dipped from tumblr basically right after OH3 ended (funny how my uni waited until OH finale to murder me. How considerate of them.) but I was here in the background. 

To all people that sent me asks - I will try to answer them (no matter how outdated my answers are going to be)

Have a nice day/evening/night, and see you in the next one <3

Tagging separately

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices #ethan x mc

[coolemmasulivan]

Zoom Class

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary (I’m terrible at this): You're a teacher and giving classes online is exhausted but messing up with Chris helps.

Word Count: 1192

Author's note: English is not my first language.

It was a sunny day and the sun hit your sleepy face earlier in the morning since Chris had forgotten to close the curtain the night before. It's going to rain, he said. There's no need to close it, he said. Well, the warm light hitting your face said otherwise. You cursed him in your head, hearing his soft snores against your ear.

You yawned and looked at Dodger, sleeping by yours and Chri's feet.

Slowly and carefully you took Chris's arm from around you and got up. He moved a little and feeling nothing else to grab, he clutched your pillow and cuddle it.

You went to the bathroom and did your morning routine. While brushing your hair, you realized how long it was. You kind liked it. Chris had assured you he could cut it if you wanted, but after the awful makeover he did to Dodger last year, you decided against it.

"He's a dog! It's different." He said, moving a pair of scissors in his hand. "And it was not that noticeable. Right, bubba?" Dodger walked by him, not really giving him attention.

You, that were cutting some vegetables to add to the soup you were making for dinner, raised the knife and pointed at him. "If you come any closer with that scissors, I'll cut you, Evans."

"You've been seeing crime shows way too much."

When you left the bathroom, Chris had turned around and taken your pillow with him. His bare chest was moving slowly up and down as he breathed, and the sheet draped low on his hips was dangerously slipping away, every time he moved.

You almost joined him in bed to wake him up in a fun and pleasant way, but your phone vibrated against the wood of the nightstand. You quickly grabbed it and ran out of the bedroom.

You looked at the screen and saw your friend and coworker's name. "Hi, Sarah. How are you?" You opened the backdoor for Dodger that had followed you and since the good weather, you sat down on the garden armchair.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for calling so early, but I have a big favor to ask you."

"What is it?"

"I know it's your day off, and I'm sorry to ask you this, but my mom's neighbor called me saying my mom is not feeling well and I have to take her to the hospital."

"Oh my god, don't worry about that. Of course, I'll give the class. Just take care of your mom, she's more important." We talked for a few more minutes about what I should discuss in class and about how everything was going before we ended the phone call.

You and Dodger entered inside and after feeding him and making coffee for yourself you turn on the laptop and set up everything to start the class. 

You were an elementary English Professor and duo to the pandemic you were teaching online. It was hard and exhausted. It was you on one side of the house having classes and Chris on the other side having interviews. At least, having him around for a long period of time had his advantages.

Chris opened his eyes and stretched his arms, letting out a yawn. He looked at your side and saw it empty and it felt cold under his hand. When he saw the light of the sun entering through the window he cursed under his breath, knowing damn well why you were up so earlier in your day off.

After a few lazy minutes, he pushed the white sheet away and got up. In the bathroom, he brushed his thees and washed his tired face. He ran his hand through his hair and since he had no interviews he decided to leave it at it was.

When his stomach growled, he left the bathroom connected with the bedroom and walked down the hall. He could hear you laughing, most probably at Dodger. Sometimes, he thought you loved Dodger more than you loved him, but he couldn't blame you. Dodger was adorable.

When he approached the kitchen, he saw you standing at the kitchen table with your back to him. He heard you laughing again and he furrowed his eyebrows confused. He couldn't see Dodger and he could tell that you were not on your phone. So, why were you laughing?

He made his way to you slowly, but when you sat down and he saw the computer screen with the faces of your students, he let out a scream and ran to the pantry that was the closest.

At the scream, you also let out one and jumped, quickly closing the computed and ripping out your headphones. You looked behind, but you didn't saw anyone. You put your hand over your heart that was beating faster when you heard Chris's voice.

"Not again."

"Chris?" Felling like the sound came from the pantry, you slowly approached it, even if you knew it your boyfriend. You could see his silhouette against the wall and when you turned on the light, he looked tired and embarrassed. He was still naked, but to your amusement, he was holding a box of cereals in front of his penis.

You slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh. "You said it was your day off."

"It was, but Sarah had an unforeseen and I had to cover for her."

He let his head fall against the wall and let out a groan. "You could have warned me. I'm pretty sure the camera caught me. My dick is going to be on the internet. Again." You couldn't help it anymore and let out a chuckle. "Why are you laughing? It's not funny."

You approached him and cupped his face. "I'm sorry babe. Yes, I should have warned you, but I didn't think you would show up naked. Is good to see you naked, but while I'm working from home I don't think you should walk around the house like that." You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "I should get back to my class." You pecked his lips and his chest over his heart. 

"Just try to convince them not to publish the video, please!" He ran his hand through his face. "Fuck! It's probably already online."

"Don't be like that." You took the cereal box from his grip and after taking a look down you winked and walked away.

"Wait, let me leave first." He got out of the pantry and disappeared in the direction of the bedroom.

You let out a chuckle and opened the laptop. "I'm sorry guys, my partner just gave me a little scare. Ryan, can you start reading?" He nodded. "While you'll at it, I'll see if I can get this camera to work."

Far away you heard Chris yelling: "WHAT? YOU HADN'T YOUR CAMERA ON? THE FUCK!"

You saw your students laughing and some had their mouths opened in shock but quickly end up joining the others. You apologized but couldn't help to smirk and laugh with your students. "Ups!"

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #cevans

[word-scribbless]

Oh baby part 8

Wooo this one has been in the works for a while! Sorry for the delay life has been very busy! @leroyjethrogibbsgirl and I are very excited for this chapter and the next (this one had to be cut off because it was getting super long so part 9 will pick up right where this one leaves off). We also have a little extra thing in the works we’re excited about!

We’re also very excited about a new character introduced in this chapter!

Side note this chapter and the next deal with some PTSD and anxiety so if that’s a trigger just be warned.

Masterlist

————————

The 3 months after Jethro and the girls were reunited were not the easiest. Both Gibbs and his little girl were having nightmares and Y/N was trying her best to pretend she wasn’t having panic attacks every morning when Gibbs left.

While difficult, it was also a very snuggle and love filled 3 months. Their little family did anything the could together. They would snuggle every night before bed, spend days off together (like usual) but they didn’t take a single second for granted.

“Hey you” Y/N greeted.

“Morning” Gibbs smiled and kissed her while scooping Amelia up off the counter.

“Making breakfast together?” Y/N asked as she smiled at the stack of pancakes. “Pancakes on a weekday?” She questioned with a smile

“Yeah, we were up. Figured we’d spend our time making momma’s favorite.”

“Momma loves CAKES! Wiff chippies” Amelia shouted as she moved to hug her mom.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her little girl and her husband, but something in her gut told her the reason they’d been up was because they were woken up by their nightmares.

“Rough night?” Y/N whispered to Gibbs when Amelia was distracted.

“Mhm, easier for both of us to just get up.” He said and Y/N frowned.

“Please wake me up next time? She can nap and I only have 1 class this semester, you are our super hero you need sleep!”

“I know” he smiled “just needed some time with her.”

Y/N understood, and wished she would wake up when Gibbs had nightmares, because he’d never wake her up. However her own daily panic attacks took so much out of her, she slept like a rock.

“Just wish you’d let me be there for you too.”

“Ya need your sleep”

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

He just nodded and kissed her head. Truly none of them were okay, but Y/N and Gibbs knew that together they’d get there eventually.

It was quickly approaching Amelia’s 2nd birthday and they were all using that to distract them. It probably wasn’t the best idea but both Gibbs and Y/N knew if they focused on their little girl then they’d be alright.

PTSD however, doesn’t care that it’s a few days from your daughters birthday. The Gibbs family found that out one night when Y/N came home from dropping Amelia off so she and Jethro could get party supplies for the weekend. Y/N walked into the house and noticed a side table flipped, and a vase broken. A few boxes were off the shelves and maganizes off the coffee table. Y/N automatically reached for her phone to call Gibbs and panic set in when his phone rang on the couch.

She stalked slowly to the basement where she head sobs. She ran down the stairs to find her husband curled up on the floor crying with two crumpled up papers in his hand.

“Baby, hey” she cooed and kneeled next to him. She winced when he shrunk away and pulled his hand away from hers.

“Jethro, hey” she tried again. “It’s just me can- can I help?”

She heard him sniffle but he didn’t move.

“Okay I- I’m just going to sit right here. if and when you’re ready I’ll be here. If you want me to go just tap my hand once.” She said, trying to keep her voice even. She wasn’t new to panic attacks at all of course.

She knew that with Gibbs and his PTSD from everything in his life, this was most likely an episode. He usually hid them from her, much like she did with her panic. After this, she knew that they would have to try harder to talk about it.

She waited for him to tap her hand to ask her to leave, she knew how much being alone helps him process. Much to her surprise, when she did feel him touch her hand it wasn’t a tap, it was him sliding his fingers through hers.

“Can I hold you?” She whispered after a few minutes of holding his hand.

He nodded slightly and she wasted no pulling him into her chest.

“I-I-I” he stammered.

“Shhhh” she assured as she stroked his hair. “We can talk in a minute baby, just breath. Can I see what you have?” She asked pointing to the crumpled papers. He nodded and tried to smooth them out a bit before holding them out to her.

She gasped as she saw what they were. It was a stack of letters, half from her that she had written from the safe house a few months ago and half from Shannon, that she had written from protective custody before they were killed.

Tears came to her eyes as she realized just how much it hurt him when they had to go away.

“Aw baby” she said as she kissed his head.

“We’re here, we’re safe. I’m so sorry you had to go through this again.”

“I- I found the letters and thought about how I lost them and I almost lost you and Amelia and I- I can’t lose you.” He cried into her chest. “I just- god it hurt all over again reading these”

“I know, I know” she said, tears falling slowly.

“Has this been happening a lot?” She asked him after about 20 minutes of just holding him.

“Not this bad” he admitted.

“I um- my panic has been bad too. I have been thinking about seeing some one, think maybe you should too.”

“Y/N-“ he started to argue.

“I’m not asking you to spill your guts, just try it?”

He nodded and took a deep breath “I’ll think about it.” He said and she knew that was the most she’d get for now.

Later that night as they were wrapping Amelia’s presents Gibbs finally remembered what she had said about her own panic.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were panicking again?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

She leaned back into him and sighed. “I just was hoping it’d go away”

He nodded, getting that more then she knew.

“You gonna get help?” He murmured.

“I actually made an appointment yesterday, thinking about going back on meds.” She had been on them back when Ryan had first died but slowly cut back.

He nodded.

“Had one when I was with meals the other day... I- I- have to be okay for her.” She said and snuggled further into his grip.

He nodded and marveled at how strong and fearless his wife was. She would do anything for their little girl and he wouldn’t even go talk to someone after breaking down. He couldn’t, he just had to keep going. He thought if he was ‘strong’ enough he’d be able to fix them all, even though he knew Y/N would tell him being ‘strong’ didn’t mean you didn’t need help. He just never knew how to ask for it.

The next day Gibbs went in to work for a few hours, Andi and Josh still had Amelia until her party that night. Y/N had her therapy appointment and had to pick up her new medicine. She had one more stop to make.

She had set up the the perfect gift for not just amelia but her whole family.

She pulled into the drive way a few hours later and smiled to see Gibbs truck already there. He had made Amelia her first “Big Girl Bed” complete with railings on the side that they could remove to sit and read to her or when she didn’t need them anymore, and was planning to put it together in her room that afternoon. She smiled at the new member of their family in the back seat.

“Alright bud, hope dad isn’t too mad at me for this” she said and smiled as her new “son” barked from the back seat.

Y/N knew Gibbs loved dogs and that even if he wouldn’t admit he needed help to any other humans, maybe he’d let a dog help him.

She had contacted a program that trains dogs for people with panic disorder and PTSD. She also knew that a puppy would work wonders for their little girl who still woke up From nightmares every few nights. As soon as she saw this particular pup she knew he was theirs.

She walked into the house with the dog following close behind her.

“Jethro” she yelled and she heard “up here” from Amelia’s room.

“Can you come down real quick?”

“In a minute”

He said and she smiled and patted the dogs head as she heard her husband’s foot steps.

“Uh Y/N” he said when he spotted she wasn’t alone.

“Hi”

“Why do you have a dog”

“Meet Sniper, your new puppy son.” Y/N said as she nodded to sniper to go and see the man.

Gibbs smirked and leaned down to pet the dog who had moved to greet his new owner.

“Hi handsome” he said taking the dog’s head in his hands and scratching his cheeks.

“You got her a dog?” He questioned looking up.

“Got us a dog.”

Gibbs smiled and shook his head.

“You’re crazy” he laughed and kissed the dog’s head.

“So you like him”

“He’s our son now...of course I like him” he laughed and she smiled wide, sitting down next to him.

“Sniper huh?” He asked with a grin.

“Thought you’d like that” y/N smiled and he kissed her head.

“He’s trained for families who have members battling panic and ptsd”

“You did this for me?” He asked and she can tell he is a little apprehensive.

“You’re not the only one I did this for Jethro. He is trained for kids who have been through trauma as well.”

“You here to help us buddy?” He asked and smiled when the dog barked happily.

“Just like how we help each other.” Y/N said.

He smiled and kissed her, “you’re crazy, and incredible.” He laughed and hugged her to him.

“Meals is gonna love you” he said to sniper. “Hope you like hugs.” He continued and laughed as Sniper almost leaned his body weight into him, waiting for a hug.

Yeah, she made the right choice, she thought as she watched her husband with sniper.

It was almost time for Andi to bring Amelia home. They had decorated the whole house, Gibbs had finished her “big girl bed” they had put a big bow on it and Sniper was laying on his own bed next to hers with a big bow on his head.

Y/N opened the door while Gibbs stayed upstairs to keep sniper in his spot.

“Hi baby! Happy party day darling!”

“Hi momma!!!! Where poppa!”

“Well, you get most of your presents from momma and poppa on your actual birthday tomorrow, but you get two surprises from us today! They are in your room with poppa, should we go see?”

“Yeahhhhh” she squealed

“Poppa I home!” She yelled and swung the door open stopping in her tracks.

“Hi baby! Happy almost birthday!”

“Rrruff” sniper barked happily and wagged his tail.

“Amelia wanna come meet sniper?”

She nodded and walked over to her dad and the dog.

“He our doggie?”

“He is baby” Gibbs laughed and she pet him.

“I has a puppy brover?”

“Yup you have a puppy brother and poppa made you something too.”

“A BIG GIRL BED!” She yelled jumping up on it.

“Puppy come on my big girl bed?”

“Sure sweets, sniper can go up.” Y/N said looked at the dog “go ahead” she said and the dog jumped up and started licking Amelia’s face.

“I LUV PIP-ER”

Gibbs laughed at how the little girl said sniper and smiled as he watched Y/N join the love fest.

“Come on gunny” Y/N said as she motioned Gibbs to join them. He shook his head and plopped down on the bed sandwiching sniper and Amelia between him and Y/N. Feeling all the more lucky for the ladies and now gentleman in his life.

————-

Next chapter

@mac99martin @kittenlittle24 @drakelover78 @hopscotchandlemon @viper-official @viper-official @ilovemark1951 @theofficialzivadavid @averyhotchner @andreasworlsboring101 @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

#ncis image #ncis #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader

[livexdolan]

Part 2 of 40 and 70? 🥺🥺

Yes yes and yess

Masterlist

Previously (Pt. 1)

Two weeks later...

“Y/n! Would you please move your ass a little faster?” Maya sighs as I trudge my suitcase down the hall to the living room.

I drop it with a huff, “I’m sorry but someone decided to conveniently forget to mention we were going up to a ski lodge for two weeks.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs the handle, moving it too easy for my liking. Opening the front door she moves my suitcase out into the hall next to hers, “Okay, okay, my bad. But I knew if I told you at first you’d never agreed to go. Especially because...y’know... he-who-shall-not-be-named is going to be there.”

“Yeah well, I don’t care. It’s whatever,” I shrug, hoping my face is covering up how much my heart hurts at the thought of him.

She raises her brow and I know I’m a terrible liar, “Mhm. C’mon, let’s go.”

She walks out the door, grabbing her purse. I grab my purse and throw my phone and keys in it. I also grab my water bottle off the counter, taking a quick sip. My face scrunches a little at the taste of Pinot Grigio, the closest I can get to red wine, seeing as my friends won’t let me have Merlot because it makes me ‘bitchy’.

I lock the door, walking to the elevator where Maya and Kristina are waiting. “Let’s do this.”

When we make it out the complex I stop, my friend bumping into me and cursing but all I can hear is a numbing buzz as I look at the all-too familiar white Tesla sitting in front of me.

“What the hell?” Kris looks down, a blush crawling across her face and Maya sighs, “Why did no one tell me we were going with them?”

“Because we knew you’d try to back out. Ethans car is the only one big enough to fit everyone. It’s us three, Ethan, Grayson, and Ryan. Mando and five other people are meeting us at the lodge,” Kris says softly and I love her so much, it’s the only thing keeping me from hitting her.

“I can’t-“ my words are cut off and my heart starts pounding as the twins jump out of the car, Ethan walking over to Kris and kissing her quickly, grabbing her bag with ease.

Grayson moves in front of me with his hands going into his hoodie pocket. The hoodie I always stole. I think bitterly, “Y/n? You ready?” I flinch at his voice, not looking him in the eye.

I nod silently but when he goes to grab my bag I stop him, pulling the handle myself, “I got it,” I spit, knowing it came out harsher than I planned.

He steps back like I slapped him with the audacity to look hurt. He shakes his head and grabs Mayas bag instead, giving her a half-smile before turning back to the car.

Maya raises her brow but I ignore it, not in the mood for her lecture. Dragging my suitcase to the car I reluctantly hand it to Grayson so he can stuff it into the back. When I get to the back doors I notice something.

Oh God. No. No no no no- “Where’s everyone sitting?” I already know. I had no reason to ask. Fucking hell.

I look at Ethan in the drivers seat, Kristina next to him, Ryan and Maya getting their stuff together in the captain chairs in the second row. Leaving the third row empty. The smallest seats for me and- “ Guess it’s you and me in the back. Just like old times, eh?” I scoff at his deep voice, feeling him behind me.

I grumble and push into the third row, moving as far behind Ryan’s seat as I can, pushing my purse to the ground. Crossing my arms I decide I’m going to sit like a statue for the drive.

Grayson clambers in as well, but instead of giving me space he leans back, spreading his long legs slightly so his thigh is barely touching mine. I pull my leg closer to my side. Grayson sighs and reaches for something.

He holds up a soft blanket and I look at him, he raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘peace offering?’ I uncross my arms and take it from him, slowly relaxing into my seat a little, knowing I can’t ignore him for two weeks, especially not when we’re sitting so close.

“Hey, y/n?” Grayson whispers, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

I glance over at him, “Hey, Grayson?” I say back, mockingly.

If that surprised him, he hides it well, “I was just wondering...are you ever going to forgive me?”

I whip my head to look at him, “forgive you?” I repeat.

He nods, a nervous look in his eyes, “For...punching Dylan, that’s why you’ve been ignoring me right?”

I gape at him. My entire brain short circuits and I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth, shut it, and open it again, “You think that’s why I haven’t been talking to you?” I ask incredulously, hoping he’s joking.

“Why do you keep repeating me like that? After I hit Dylan you ran out, then ignored all my texts and calls. Maya even told me you took the final online so you didn’t have to come to the same class as me. I assumed it was because I hurt him. Look, I’m sorry about that. He was being such a dick and I-“

“Are you really that self-centered that you think I would make that big of a deal out of you punching that asshole in the face?” I whisper, cutting him off, “I haven’t talked to you because you and I,” I gesture to the two of us in the small space, “aren’t good friends. You drag me into stupid shit I don’t want to do and I follow you like a lost puppy. I’m tired of it. And frankly, I’m fucking sick of you acting like you never once picked up on how much I loved you. As more than a friend,” I ramble. Leaning back in my seat with a huff, re-crossing my arms.

I stare at the back of Ryan’s headrest and can see Grayson staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I keep up my hard look, Grayson finally giving up and letting out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair and tugging it slightly.

My heart tugs at me, telling me to comfort him, knowing he only does that when he’s really stressed out but I hold back. I’m tired of him using me as his girlfriend without actually letting me be his girlfriend. I have a small epiphany as the thought hits me. That’s it. That’s why all of this pissed me off so much.

Grayson has been using me as his girlfriend for almost ten years. He comes to me with his problems, we cuddle, he takes me out for food and ice cream, makes me go on adventures with him, talks me into wearing matching outfits for his party so he doesn’t look stupid, he even holds my hand. But then he goes off and fucks other girls, he’s had one too many friends with benefits in the past three years. In fact, he had four different girls doing it with him at one time, until two of the girls found out about each other and cut him off.

When I asked him how he felt he just shrugged saying, ‘I never said I wouldn’t have sex with other people’. Maybe that’s part of the problem, too.

Because even if Grayson loved me back- would he even be able to handle a full one-on-one relationship? Would he cheat? Not because he didn’t love me but because he was so used to doing whatever the hell he wanted? I roll my head to the side, watching the world go back as my thoughts swirl.

This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life.

Next...(Pt.3)

-

A/n: I know y’all are gonna hate me but there’s gonna be at least one more part. It was getting a bit long and I think we left off on a good note ;)) lmk how y’all feel about the new part ❤️

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #ethan #grayson #grayson dolan imagine #sophs blurbs #frat!gray #asks #concepts #grayson dolan smut #grayson x reader #Grayson concept #grayson dolan concept #my writing

[beginagainunsolved]

RYAN: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we’ll be talking about the mysterious “death” of Jason Todd.

SHANE: Why is death in air quotes there?

RYAN: You’ll see.

SHANE: I love it when you get all mysterious. Really draws me in. You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here, Ryan!

RYAN: Oh, it gets edgier.

SHANE: Don’t think that works in this context, buddy.

RYAN: It does. You’ll see. This guy’s a real edgelord.

SHANE: Gross.

RYAN: Shut up. Anyway, this is actually one of our most highly requested cases. We get comments to do this one every time we post a new video, so —

SHANE: You guys can SHUT UP now. We’re DOING IT. Get off our BACKS.

RYAN: Okay, maybe don’t — maybe don’t yell at them.

SHANE: Hey, I’ll yell if I want to yell.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Jason Peter Todd was the second ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, adopted shortly after his first ward, Dick Grayson, was emancipated and moved away from Gotham city.

SHANE: Why is this guy always adopting kids? Can that be the next episode?

RYAN: That would be so boring. “This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved: A Billionaire is Lonely.”

SHANE: There are better ways to deal with loneliness, Ryan.

RYAN: I don’t know. He seems to like his way.

SHANE: I guess.

RYAN, NARRATION: Not much is known about Jason’s life prior to his adoption. Unlike Wayne’s previous ward, Dick Grayson, it doesn’t appear that Todd had any sort of public persona. Most reports claim he was born to a poor family and largely grew up on the streets, but it’s difficult to confirm.

SHANE: You mean you couldn’t find it on Google?

RYAN: Yeah, I couldn’t find it on Google. I typed in “Jason Todd - Street Youth?” And nothing came up, so I called it a day and got a smoothie.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: Most accounts of Jason’s life begin shortly after his adoption. During this time, it appears that Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne weren’t on speaking terms, at least to the general public. Shortly before Jason’s adoption, Dick stopped making public appearances and attending galas with Wayne. Many speculate that Jason’s adoption was Wayne’s attempt to fill the void left by his first ward’s departure.

SHANE: Oof.

RYAN: Yeah, oof.

SHANE: And I thought my family had drama!

RYAN: Your family has you. That’s enough drama.

SHANE: Didn’t your dad cut someone’s head off once?

RYAN: Please stop telling people that. Someone’s gonna believe you! The FBI are going to show up at his door!

SHANE: I hope they do. I hope SHIELD interrogates him.

RYAN: NO!

RYAN, NARRATION: People who knew Jason Todd in the years immediately following his adoption into the Wayne family paint the tale of a troubled young man vying for the attention of his newfound father. After his supposed death, many of Wayne’s high status acquaintances who had met the boy at galas and public events were quick to come forward with their own accounts of his demeanor and personality.

SHANE: Ryan, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…

RYAN AND SHANE, IN UNISON: Rich people fucking suck.

SHANE: Rich people fucking suck!

RYAN: On this, we absolutely agree.

SHANE: This one thing!

RYAN: This one thing, yeah.

SHANE: Anyway. Eat the rich!

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: The real mystery of Jason Todd, of course, doesn’t lie in how he became associated with Bruce Wayne. The real mystery comes from how this association ended.

SHANE: Here we go!

RYAN: Here we go.

RYAN, NARRATION: Then, in 2010, not long after his adoption into the Wayne family, Jason suddenly disappeared from the public eye. Much like Dick Grayson before him, he stopped attending galas and public events. Unlike Dick Grayson, no one seemed to know where he ended up at all.

SHANE: So this wasn’t a “I’m mad at my dad so I’m gonna crash on my buddy’s couch” type situation.

RYAN: Oh, no, definitely not. This kid seemingly vanished into thin air.

SHANE: Like Amelia Earhart! We all remember her!

RYAN: Don’t say anything about the —

SHANE: She was eaten by crabs.

RYAN: Jesus Christ.

RYAN, NARRATION: This went on for some time, with Jason out of the public eye and Bruce largely dodging questions about him when asked. Then, one day, Bruce Wayne called a press conference and made a startling revelation: Jason Todd was dead.

SHANE: Not a fun press conference.

RYAN: Not really, no. It’s — You can still watch it on YouTube. It’s bleak, man.

SHANE: Well, he’s announcing his son’s untimely death, Ryan. There’s not gonna be confetti.

RYAN: Yeah, but I mean — he pretty much just gets up on stage, makes a depressing ass announcement, and leaves right away.

SHANE: Imagine being a reporter there. Just standing out in the rain. Was it raining? I bet it was raining.

RYAN: I think it’s just, like, perpetually raining in Gotham. It’s got those kind of vibes.

SHANE: Depressing noir detective vibes, yeah. That’s why all those people dress up like bats and clowns. Nobody does that in L.A.

RYAN: No, we don’t get a lot of bats or clowns in L.A.

SHANE: We had the flame head guy! Miss him.

RYAN: He comes up in this.

SHANE: HE DOES?!?

RYAN: Spoiler alert!

SHANE: No, she lives in Gotham, too.

RYAN: Shut up.

RYAN, NARRATION: Life seemed to move on for the Wayne family after this. Jason was buried in a Gotham cemetery following a private funeral. Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne seemingly reunited. Some time down the line, Wayne adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose recently deceased parents ran in his social circles. Jason continued to be a rarely mentioned subject in any public appearances made by the Wayne family and their close associates, and any time he was brought up in interviews, journalists were categorically shut down.

SHANE: This is getting depressing, but I want to circle back around to this guy’s kid adopting addiction. Nobody should have this many orphans, Ryan.

RYAN: I mean, he’s helping them, right?

SHANE: Is he? He’s just replacing one with the next! Like a congo line!

RYAN: A congo line of — You know, I say this a lot, but this time I really mean it. You are going to get us so sued.

SHANE: It’s like the Macarena. You put an orphan in and take an orphan out.

RYAN: That’s the Hokey Pokey.

SHANE: And shake ‘em all about.

RYAN: Please stop.

RYAN, NARRATION: With most cases, this would be the end of it. A bleak end to a bleak story. But instead, this is where things get weird.

SHANE: Hooo boy. This is where the air quotes come in.

RYAN: This is where the air quotes come in!

RYAN, NARRATION: A few years after his death, Jason Todd seemingly reemerged. He was spotted leaving Wayne Manor, a few inches taller and with a new hair do.

SHANE: I’m just gonna put this out there, like, as an unofficial theory.

RYAN: Oh god.

SHANE: Are we sure this wasn’t just some other random orphan? The guy likes orphans, Ryan. He has an orphan problem.

RYAN: If it was another random orphan, it was a random orphan that looked exactly like Jason Todd.

SHANE: Wouldn’t put it past him!

RYAN: How would he even manage that?

SHANE: I don’t know! He’s rich!

RYAN: That can’t be your answer to everything shady you accuse someone of doing.

SHANE: It can, and it is.

RYAN: I really hope Buzzfeed has lawyer lined up for us. We’re gonna need so many lawyers.

SHANE: I’m sure we’ll be fine.

RYAN: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: When asked about Todd’s sudden reappearance, members of the Wayne family dodged the question just as thoroughly as they once dodged questions regarding his death. Their excuses, typically flimsy, varied from person to person with some saying the man who appeared to be Jason was actually someone else, and others saying said man didn’t exist at all.

SHANE: Pfffft. “Oh, no, there’s no man here! No man at all!”

RYAN: I actually looked up a lot of the denials, and some of them get… wild. Dick Grayson once claimed that no one ever said Jason Todd died at all.

SHANE: The press conference is on YouTube!

RYAN: He said it was a prank.

SHANE: A prank? Man, fuck this guy!

RYAN: I think he just panicked.

SHANE: He can panic more smoothly than that, at least! Have a little respect!

RYAN: (wheeze) You’re telling people about respect now?

SHANE: I’m very respectful, Ryan.

RYAN: You told a ghost to eat your ass last week!

SHANE: We’ve been over this. I don’t respect ghosts because they aren’t real. I told an empty room to eat my ass. And it did not comply.

RYAN: You accused Bruce Wayne of stealing orphans three minutes ago!

SHANE: I don’t respect rich people, either, because fuck ‘em.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what ever happened to Jason Todd? Let’s get into the theories.

SHANE: I’m sure they’re all perfectly reasonable.

RYAN: As always.

SHANE: Oh, no.

RYAN, NARRATION: The first theory is that Jason Todd’s “death” was a coverup for a ransom attempt.

SHANE: That kind of makes sense.

RYAN: Yeah! Like, obviously Wayne wouldn’t want people to know his kid was abducted for ransom. Especially if he was going to plan on paying it.

SHANE: Well. I don’t think he’d say “yeah that kid’s dead” if he was planning on paying the ransom.

RYAN: You think he left him to die?

SHANE: RICH PEOPLE SUCK!

RYAN: God. I can taste the lawsuit.

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory is a rather straightforward one: After receiving a ransom note for his son some time after his disappearance, Wayne announced Jason’s death to cover it up and prevent the kidnappers from getting the publicity that would have made them infamous.

SHANE: Like a big ole fuck you!

RYAN: Yeah, I mean, you’d get a lot of clout for kidnapping a famous billionaire’s son. Especially in Gotham, right? Out there, it’s like… Crime is currency, almost. You build up a reputation like that, you can rule the city.

SHANE: Exactly! So by taking that away… Kind of ruins their whole thing.

RYAN: Right! And then they’ve got no use for Jason anymore and, you know, killing somebody’s a lot harder than kidnapping them, so…

SHANE: Oh, I don’t think they let him go. That kid was scrappy. He probably gave ‘em all rabies and ran.

CAMERAMAN, IN BACKGROUND: Guys. Defamation —

SHANE: Yeah, yeah, we know. Let’s move on!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties back to Jason’s alleged life before his adoption as a street kid. This theory states that Jason, like many young people in Gotham, got tangled up with some of the neighborhood’s local gangs and got in over his head.

SHANE: His sordid past as an eight year old came back to haunt him?

RYAN: Well, presumably he stayed in contact with people he knew at the time and got pulled into the gangs later.

SHANE: Nah, I want an eight year old with a shiv. He’ll shank you… but only from the waist down. Can’t reach any higher.

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: Except for on you! You’re, like, the size of an eight year old. Man, he’d crush you.

RYAN: Yeah, well, you’d be fine, Gumbo. He wouldn’t be able to reach anything above your foot. You’d be like a giraffe stepping on a thumbtack.

SHANE: I keep telling you, Ryan, I am average height. You’re just abnormally short.

RYAN: Fuck you, buddy.

SHANE: Ouch.

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, Jason’s death was faked in order to save his life from mobsters associated with famed Gotham gang leader Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin.

SHANE: Why does everybody in Gotham have a stupid name?

RYAN: You don’t like the Penguin?

SHANE: I don’t care for it, no, but I also don’t love the name ‘Oswald Cobblepot.’ Like, that sounds ridiculous.

RYAN: Maybe that’s why he chooses to go by the Penguin.

SHANE: He should choose to go by Stan.

RYAN: Stan?

SHANE: Stan.

RYAN: No clarification there?

SHANE: I don’t believe it needs any.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our third theory is by far the most simple: Tired of the life of a billionaire’s son, Jason asked Bruce to fake his death in order to allow him to disappear from the public eye.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN: I will admit… There are probably better ways to duck out of the public eye.

SHANE: YOU THINK?

RYAN: Like, faking my death might not be my first resort.

SHANE, IN AN EXAGGERATED IMITATION OF A CHILD’S VOICE: Oh, I’m tired of people taking my picture. Papa, will you tell them all I died a gruesome death? I’m going to Fiji!

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: And then Wayne, what, just went along with it?

RYAN: Well, I guess he was due for another orphan soon anyway.

SHANE: I’m so glad you’ve warmed up to these jokes.

RYAN: I’m getting sued anyway, I might as well have fun with it.

SHANE: I am loving this development for you, Ryan!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties into a legend that some of our viewers from the Los Angeles area may be familiar with, —

SHANE: OH HELL YEAH! HERE IT COMES!

RYAN, NARRATION: — the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: (cheering)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that Jason Todd’s anonymity exists to cover up his identity, and that the initial ‘death’ occured when he took up the mantle. Some believers of this theory claim that Wayne may have actually believed Todd was dead at the time, as he may have dropped off the radar entirely in order to pursue work as the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: This is my favorite one.

RYAN: I don’t think there’s any merit to it.

SHANE: Oh, absolutely not. But you’ve gotta love the theater of it!

RYAN: It does have a certain level of aesthetic appeal, yeah.

SHANE: Just some random rich kid out here with his head on fire, killing guys with crowbars.

RYAN: (wheeze) Why crowbars?

SHANE: I don’t know. Crowbars feel right here.

RYAN: That doesn’t make any sense.

SHANE: And the rest of this does?

RYAN: Good point.

RYAN, NARRATION: Perhaps supporting this theory is the fact that Ghost Rider tends to go after gangsters much like the ones Todd would have been dodging as a young man in Gotham. It also seems to tie into the rash, angry personality that many people claim he displayed. According to this theory’s supporters, Todd became fed up with the state of the city.

SHANE: And… what? Decided to light his head on fire?

RYAN: Well, maybe he was a metahuman.

SHANE: I guess that’s why he didn’t stay in Gotham. Doesn’t Batman kick them all out?

RYAN: That’s what people say, yeah.

SHANE: Man. Dick move of Batman to kick Bruce Wayne’s kid out of the city. (chuckles.) Get it? Dick?

RYAN: Oh my god.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our fifth and final theory is that Jason Todd was abducted by aliens.

SHANE: Nope.

RYAN: Don’t you at least want to hear the full theory?

SHANE: Absolutely not.

RYAN: Well, they do.

SHANE: Who is ‘they’ ?

RYAN: The people!

SHANE: They don’t want to hear your alien theories, Ryan. No one does.

RYAN: Well, it’s my video. And I’m going to tell the alien theory.

SHANE: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that aliens, in an attempt to gain power and intel in preparation for an invasion, targeted Jason because of his close relationship with one of the richest and most prominent men in Gotham.

SHANE: So they interrogated him and then just spat him back out?

RYAN: Let me finish!

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, the Jason Todd who returned after his ‘death’ was not Jason Todd at all but, rather, was an alien clone.

SHANE: I regret letting you finish.

RYAN: (wheeze) I knew you would!

RYAN, NARRATION: Believers of this theory claim it’s supported by the physical differences between the Jason Todd who disappeared and the one who lives in Gotham now, including his hair and his height.

SHANE: Or, hear me out. He grew. And he dyed his hair.

RYAN: Aliens seems more plausible to me.

SHANE: I hate you.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what really happened to Jason Todd? Did he fall in deep with the wrong crowds and have to give up his life to find his way out? Was he kidnapped in an attempt to get money and influence from his wealthy adoptive family? Or is there something otherworldly about his disappearance and reappearance into the world? With the Wayne family refusing comments and no other sources to consult, it looks like the truth behind the scenes of Gotham’s most prestigious family will have to remain… unsolved.

WHAT UNSOLVED MYSTERY DO YOU WANT TO SEE NEXT?

#beginagainunsolved #episode: jason todd #true crime

[operation-619]

What if the reader is an alien that has the same power as superman and stronger than Homelander? The reader works at the Vought and doesn't know the corruption in it until Butcher told the truth. Homelander acts soft on her when they see each other, and Homelander was still confused about his feelings and put his ego shit first. I kinda wanna see Homelander battling the reader when she was trying to protect Ryan and Butcher while Maeve hasn’t arrived yet. She will make him bleed.

Even the strongest man Bleeds.

Edited 17-01-21

Homelander x Alien! Reader

Warning: mentions of blood, language, mentions of death and murder. Violence read at your own risk. 

Bold italics- inner dialogue, Bold- the past. 

WC - 3.1k

Masterlist

“The compound V is what makes them, supes. It’s not real and the golden boy, your Homelander, is the most corrupt motherfucker I have ever met. We need your help (Y/N). Please?” his voice was hoarse, the stress in his words were leaking onto his face. She could see the worry on his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe the men in front of her.

“You’re lying to me. Billy Butcher, you have a lot of nerve coming here, you and your gang are mortal enemies to Homelander right now. It’s not safe.” The muscular black man scoffed at her statement and leaned back against the seat. He seemed relaxed but his eyes constantly sweeping the place told (Y/N) otherwise.

“I swear, come back with me and I will show you everything. Please?” his eyes crinkled at the sides as he pulled his face into what looked like a poor attempt at a pleading face. (Y/N)’s mouth was just forming the word ‘NO’ when the man called Mother’s Milk chuckled and leaned forward.

He whispered, “he doesn’t ever say please,” and stood up from the booth and walked out of the café. Her mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons of her current situation. She considered whether or not they were just baiting her into a trap, but she was confident that she could make her way out of it. But it isn’t everyday that two men come waltzing into her favourite café, sit themselves down like they own the place and cough up a semi-convincing story about the corruption at Vought.

“Fuck it,” she whispered under her breathe, “fine I’ll come, it’s good to go out your comfort zone once in a while.” The smile on her face made Billy look at her with confusion painted on his rugged features. She stood, and gestured Butcher to show her the way, “just so you know, I don’t believe you at all.”

(Y/N) replayed her past movement in her head carefully over and over again, and yet she still could not believe how naïve she truly was. But here she is sat in a car that smells like Old Spice, waiting for Frenchie to get the speakers ready. She threw her head back against the headrest and released a shaky breath; everything she believed and knew had been a lie to her. Including John. ‘Oh dear god John, what have you done?’ Her thoughts were getting too loud, they were screaming at her asking how she could’ve been so stupid to not know.

‘How could you not know?’

‘It was right in front of your face you idiot’

‘Your really are a cunt!’

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, the stress of all the sudden information was taking a toll on the woman. Whimpering under her breath, she opened the car door and inhaled the cold air. Closing the car door, she leaned against it and watched as the group of friends conversed amongst themselves. The plan was to set off the sonic device and John to go over and destroy the source, and when he does Billy and Becca will drive and get Ryan. She still didn’t know why she was needed, (Y/N) was still processing the information she was given 48 hours ago.

“Okay, 15 minutes and everything will be all set,” the French accent let her know who was talking, but she wasn’t paying that much attention when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck arise.

“Get in the cars!” she whispered harshly, her arms waving about ushering the people back into the cars. (Y/N)’s breath shallowed once everyone was in their respected cars, she creeped forward and looked upwards, watching as the uncovered Nazi zoomed by. She vividly remembered the moment she had met that woman. (Y/N) never trusted that woman, something about the way her heart leaped when an opportunity to hurt someone arose. (Y/N) also didn’t like the way John was towards her, all bark, and no bite- vulnerable.

(Y/N) had never seen John so vulnerable around anyone except her.

The metallic taste in the air is what told (Y/N) that Stormfront had just flown by, the hair on the back of her neck relaxed and so did her posture. Walking over to Butcher, she waited until he rolled down his window before she spoke; “She’s seen the leaked news, my guess is she is going back to Vaught to see what caused that, fiasco.” She heard another window come down, not doubt Frenchie and the others.

“Was she alone?” without turning around she nodded. (Y/N)’s tongue ran across the bottom of her teeth before she turned around and faced the two cars, the cars holding the people that brought the truth to her naïve and simplistic eyes. “What exactly am I doing here? Because, you have the weapons, metaphorical and physical to defeat them. So please, tell me why I am here?” her eye followed the movements of the human bodies getting out of the cars. She could see the look on Becca’s face, and she didn’t like it.

“We’re gonna use ya.” Her (E/C) eyes shot towards MM, he stood there tall and domineering, with his hands on his hips. “Starlight, or Annie told us how soft Homelander is on you. And if things go south, you are our pawn.” (Y/N)’s hearts faltered.

“You humans are so pathetic. I mean, I am old. Older than all of you put together, so I have seen shit that no one can imagine. But the one thing that never changes is the utter stupidity of you homo-sapiens, the selfishness and carnage that I have experienced puts my species to shame.” (Y/N) paced back and forth, her anger evident as black veins started to appear under her (E/C) eyes.

“(Y/N). Please, MM didn’t mean it like that,”

“I did. I did mean it exactly how I said it Becca,” (Y/N) stalked the movement of the vigilante group. Her hearing was being drowned by the loudness of her beating hearts. She watched as Becca stepped forwards and stopped right in front of her.

“My son, who was conceived in the most- my son is in there. I don’t know if you have had children before. But I am not going anywhere until I have my boy in my arms. So please, help me.” (Y/N) flinched when she felt warm hands placed onto her cold shoulders, echoes of her past resonating inside her head. She now understood the look on Becca’s face, the look of a mother- a childless mother that no longer understands their purpose in life. Because she was one.

“Okay, but I want this on my terms.”

The little boy was screaming when (Y/N) landed behind John, crying for his mommy to wake up. She looked around, seeing the two women laying lifeless. She was too late to save them. The metallic taste in the air was getting stronger the closer she walked towards the pandemonium. The woman that confided in her mere moments ago, now lay with blood flowing out the cut in her neck. She watched as Butcher tried to stop the bleeding his white hands now crimson. His whole body covered in blood, soaking him to his soul.

Turning her head, (Y/N) saw John knelt next to Stormfront or what is left of her. The burnt woman mumbling in what sounded like German. “Ryan- ‘her attention went from the barbequed supe to John, ‘did you do this?”

“He didn’t mean to John,” she watched his whole-body flinch at the sound of her voice, she was happy to see his face finally, to get some sort of justification. But the feeling that shot through her body was the complete opposite, the look in his eyes reminded her of herself, and she didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here, I thought you left?” he surged forward and cupped her face, (Y/N) placed her hand on his chest and the other on his hand. She closed her eyes and inhaled her John deeply. “(Y/N), you have no idea, I. I don’t understand.” The beating of his heart grounded her for a moment, everything around them disappeared for a moment as the two of them were caught in their own bubble. But (Y/N) knew the bubble had to be popped. And she had the sharpest needle to do it with.

“John, what happened on the plane.” She was met with silence, the hands gripped her face harder, but her eyes still remained closed. “You left them all to die, didn’t you?”

“I did not leave them to die, I tried to save them. You know this (Y/N), why are you asking me this.” His mouth was talking but his heart told her the truth. Releasing a soft sigh, (Y/N) stepped back from John and finally opened her eyes. The bubble burst when his blue eyes met pitch black, her pupils had flooded the white out leaving a demonic presence behind, the black veins appeared all over her body pulsing violently.

“I know everything John, you have been lying to me. I trusted you, and you know that.” He started to mutter words that didn’t make sense to her, his hands anchored in his hair. (Y/N) watched as the great Homelander fell apart right in front of her, Earths favourite and mightiest hero crumbled under the pressure of words.

“Now let them go John. Please?” when his blue eyes met hers, the look rivalled hell itself. His jaw twitched, tongue pocking out to lick his bottom lip. He never broke eye contact with her, his eyes tracked her like predator to prey.  (Y/N) moved cautiously, never turning her back to John. Once she was stationed in front of Butcher and the kid, she placed her right arm out and behind her. (Y/N)’s ears were ringing, the power surging through her was immense and yet she felt weak. Weak, it wasn’t a word her species spoke, and she never heard of such a word until she came to earth. Vulnerable, weak, powerless, helpless, defenceless, and fragile; all these words are now part of her vocabulary, and she was feeling every single one of them as she looked at the man she had come to love.

(Y/N) had given him not just one but both of her hearts. He was the first person that offered her his hand when the rest of this new world beat her down with their harsh words, he taught her how the ways of her new life, he was her new life. (Y/N) may have been a celestial being, but she knew when something wasn’t right. At first, she thought John was just trapping her, the distance – although not physical – was fluctuating between then constantly; first John welcomed her with open arms, then he kept her at arms-length when they got too close and then the cycle repeated.

But through all the shit he had put her through, she was still there for him. until now.

“We are going to leave, and you will never trouble them again.” Her vision was sharp as she watched the wrecked man in front of her chose the option she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You know I can’t do that, he’s my son.” And with that he charged towards them, eyes red with hunger and rage. His path changed when he felt a fist connect with his cheek, sending him flying into a tree. His world spun, staggering up onto his feet he made eye contact with the shell of the woman he loves. Her black eyes reminded him of a starless night, an abyss that was forbidden to travel.

Something cold dripped onto his lip, and out of instinct his tongue licked it away, he thought nothing of it until the unfamiliar taste of blood slithered its way down his throat. His naked hand came up and delicately touched his nose, he hissed in pain when his calloused hand touch it, retracting his hand he look in bewilderment at the blood sat there taunting him on his hand.

“You broke my nose,” his voice was meagre but loud enough for her to hear the vulnerability in it.

She turned to Butcher and the child hurriedly telling them , “get away from here, quickly,” and before she could turn back around, she was pinned to the muddy floor. Her face caked in the mixture of blood and dirt; she could feel John’s breath on her neck. Without a second thought she flung her head back and used the distraction to spin around and wrap her hand around the heroes throat. (Y/N) paid no mind to the thoughts pounding in her head, she wasn’t about to let them stop her from – whatever she thought she was doing.

“(Y/N) … (Y/N). please.” the air around them froze, she wanted answers but standing here with her hand around the nations saviour’s throat was not the way she needed to get them. “You lied to me John, the one person who promised to never lie to me. You betrayed my trust.” She threw him to the ground.

“You had me working for monsters. They never helped people!” the wind started to pick up around them, her (Y/H/C) hair danced ferociously around her face, a face that was covered in black veins pulsating in rage. (Y/N)’s head snapped to the right when she heard a twig snap, her vision was met with Butcher and the kid watching her in astonishment and fear. The kid was hiding behind Butcher, just his head poking out watching (Y/N) beat up his father. And god did he look like John. 

(Y/N)’s body moved before she could even realise what was happening, her left hand came up to stop the blow coming her way and then she knelt down, using John’s momentum against him, she throw him over her shoulder. But the outcome wasn’t in her favour as he managed to land on his feet. And then he was charging at her. Punches were thrown and bodied flung everywhere, (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to kill John, but it felt good to hurt him.

 “He’s my son (Y/N). He needs me!” his words were met with a foot to his chest.

 “No one need you John, not after what you did,” her elbow jabbed into his stomach, causing his arms to release her waist, she looked at his body lying pathetically on the forest floor. Americas strongest man, the embodiment of patriotism and pride had fallen to his knees.

 “(Y/N), you have and always will need me’, his blue eye sparkled with malicious intent, ‘no one wanted a freak roaming our home, but because I stood by your side, they welcomed you. But the moment I’m gone. You will be nothing. But a monster to the people you love so much.” Blood came flying out of his mouth as he spat his words at her. His armour had crumbled and all he had left was his words.

 “Stop” the alien smiled at the hero on his knees, her eyes only moved off his body when she felt a presence next to her. John started to get up, but (Y/N) swiftly moved forward, wrapping her arm around his neck, and gripping his hair with her free hand. She forced him to stay down, on his knees.

 Maeve came into sight, moving cautiously like she was afraid he would brake from his bond. She stopped when she was right in front of the disgraced hero. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” (Y/N) could feel John shaking in her grip. The two looked at each other in silence for a while, their eye contact unbreakable. (Y/N) spared a glance at Butcher, who was still stood in the same place.

 “You’re going to let them go,” the man in question scoffed but immediately fell silent when (Y/N) tightened her grip on his hair. He cleared his throat, moving subtlety before answering the Queen. 

“And if I don’t?” his ego spoke louder than the words coming out of his mouth, he was confident that everything was going his way. Both Maeve and (Y/N) knew that. But the moment Maeve held up the recording of the plane (Y/N) could physically feel The Homelander admitting defeat. The cries of the passengers echoed through her head, along with the bullshit lie the man in her arms fed her. ‘there was nothing we could do, the terrorist had too much control I tried to save them (Y/N). I tried.’

“You’re going to stop hunting Starlight, you’re going to leave me and Elena alone. Or I release this.” there was no room for argument, and he knew that. But he had to open his mouth. “If you do that, I’ll destroy everything and everyone.” (Y/N)’s grip tightened, she dragged his head backward and brought her lips to his bloody ear. Her voice was cold, no hint of vulnerability, no hint of emotion. 

She could feel his bones quaking under her arm as she tightened her hold on the man she had come to love. The man that made everything feel less painful, the man that she called a true friend. But standing here in the middle of a forest with two dead women, a sobbing child and a emotionless man; she realised that what her people said about the human race was true. And John had proven that to her. It took everything in (Y/N) not to simply break his neck but she wanted him to hurt. 

She wanted him to bleed.

 So, she looked up at Maeve and signalled her to get the two boys out of here, she wanted to be alone with him. she willed herself to calm down, she knew she wasn’t in the right headframe to talk to John because if she did so now, his head would be lying two feet way from his body. So, she whispered to the man calmly, hearts no longer racing with hatred or fear. She let the venom in her voice speak for itself as she whispered to Homelander. But she let man she loved hear the pain in her voice, because the man she was holding was not her John, her John had died the moment Butcher and Mother’s Milk sat down across from her in the café. However, (Y/N) had comfort as she let the ten simple words leave her mouth, because she knows that no matter how much Compound V is pumping through his body. Even the Strongest man bleeds.

 “If you do that Homelander, I will make you bleed.”

|=|=|

Hello beautiful people, I hope you enjoyed my little piece, feel free to leave comments about what you liked and didn’t like, I’m okay with a bit of constructive criticism I believe it will help me get better, and if you want anything else.

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #violence #angst #blood #queen maeve #alien reader #extraterestrial #the boys x reader

[lololova]

Less is more - Always there

Kate Beckett feels her fingers slipping slowly for every second she’s hanging there. Can feel her heart beat fast and hard against her chest as she’s hanging on for her life. As her eyes flicker down to the ground so deep down under her she starts to think of her partner, and all the things she didn’t get to say to him. Urgh and the things she did say to him! How he’d betrayed her when he was just… protecting her. How she’d questioned her trust for him. And when he finally, finally, confirmed the feelings she had been so unsure he still felt it had been during their fight. And she hadn’t said them back because she had been too tunnel visioned about it all and fuck she can’t believe this is happening. She’s about to fall to her death and he’ll never know about her feelings.

“Castle,” she whispers his name as if it’s a prayer and that he can hear her.

She grunts as she tries to hold her body up, tries to keep her fingers clenching the edge of the building. God, if she’d just listened to him, if she’d not just run to her death. She did everything he told her she was about to do and failed just as miserably as he’d predicted. Maybe they could’ve investigated it more slowly, together, if she’d just… listened and talked instead of yelling at him and being so furious about everything. He’d been right about not telling her those months ago.

“Ah!” she screams out when her fingers slip and she’s finding herself only holding on with one hand now. She’s going to die.

Through the thunder in her ears she hears a faint sound of her name break through the air and so she yells his name.

“Beckett!” she hears again and she feels her fingers starting to lose grip.

“Castle! I’m here!” she yells at the top of her lungs. “Oh, god, Castle!”

“Beckett! Hang on!”

Her fingers slip and she widens her eyes. “No, Castle!”

Just as her grip slips completely and her heart skips a beat at the sudden realization he’s too late she sees a hand reach out and catch hers. Before she knows it there’s another pair of hands gripping at her and together the four hands help to pull her up and over the edge. When she finally feels the ground underneath her feet she’s panting and looking up to search for the eyes she’s been longing to look into since she fell over the edge. She feels her breath cut off when she finds them and without a thought she’s lounging herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Whoa,” Castle stumbles back at the sudden push her hug inflicted.

“I’m sorry,” she immediately gasps into his ear.

“Ahem,” a very familiar sound comes from behind her and she clenches her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to pull away, if anything she wants to hug him tighter, but she forces herself to let him go in order to turn to her captain who stands there with a disappointed look.

“Detective Beckett, where did he go?” Gates asks and Kate feels herself sink.

“He got away,” she tells them and she glances at her partner who looks… indecisive.

“Let’s get back to my office then,” Gates says and turns without a beat.

Kate looks at her coworker who most likely was the one bringing the captain up to speed, Ryan, and he’s looking down at his feet as if he’s ashamed of something.

“Let’s go, detectives!” Gates calls out from her way towards the door and it sets them all going.

Kate and Castle end up being the last in the line and she can’t help but try to hook one of her fingers with his but once their fingers touch he’s pulling away.

“Castle?” she whispers and looks up at him… only to see his eyes being set straight forward.

He’s not answering her, and she should probably be angry at him for that but she can’t. Instead she’s afraid she’s already lost him, even though he came.

“Withholding evidence, lying to a superior officer?” Gates is scolding them but all Kate can think about is her partner who’d gone home instead of following them back to the precinct. “What you did dishonors this city and dishonors the badge. Not only are you off this investigation, I’m putting you both on administrative leave, effective immediately.”

“Sir…” Esposito tries to say something in their defense but their captain will have nothing of it.

“Don’t you ‘sir’ me! You don’t deserve to wear the uniform. Now hand over your badges and guns,” she says strictly and while Espo immediately hands his over Kate takes up her badge and looks at it. Starts to think about why she became a cop in the first place, how she failed it and almost died in the process. Almost died before being able to tell her partner she loves him too. “Detective Beckett?”

It sounds like a challenge, almost as if Gates thinks she’ll try to defy her. Not anymore.

“Keep it,” Kate says as she hands over her badge and then her gun. “I resign.”

She’s walking out of there before anyone can stop her and quickly takes a few of her things with her on her way out. Not all of it, she’ll come back for the rest of it, because right now it’s more important for her to clear her head and come up with a way to apologize to the man she’s fallen in love with.

Kate’s drenched when she’s finally gotten enough courage to show up at his door. She’s knocking on his door, not sure what to expect. Will he open the door? Will he shut it in her face once he sees it’s her? Will he… tell her to never come back?

Footsteps come closer and she holds her breath as the door opens and reveals her partner’s smile frowning when he sees it’s her.

“Beckett, what do you want?” he asks in a stern voice.

“You,” she says and feels herself surging forward without thought. Her hands cupping his cheeks as her lips find his only to claim them in a kiss.

The way he steps back and the way his whole body stiffens she can feel his surprise. She feels her own surprise when one of his hands is gripping her wrist and pushing her away from him. She looks up at him and at first he doesn’t meet her eyes, but when he does she can tell he’s trying to keep himself from hoping.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve listened to you, I shouldn’t have gone after him. I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m…” she feels her tears welling up again, just like they had out in the rain. Only out there they had been hidden along with the water running down her cheeks, hair.

“You were hanging off a ledge, Beckett. What if we hadn’t gotten there on time? What if…” he sighs and shakes his head. “I almost didn’t answer his call, Kate. I knew, I just knew, it would either be about you being dead or in the hospital, dying. I can’t… Kate I can’t do this anymore. I already watched you die once, I’m not doing it again.”

“You won’t. I’m done. I resigned,” she tells him and his eyes widen.

“You resigned?”

She nods. “I just want you. And if that means letting go then that’s what I’ll do.”

His eyes almost look mad. “I didn- I didn’t mean for you to resign! I didn’t mean for you to stop doing your job!” he starts scolding her. “You’re still the best detective I’ve ever seen, you’re the one who gives the victims voices, you’re the one who gives them justice.”

“But I-” she starts but he cuts her off.

“No, you have to go back, get your badge back.” He’s starting to push her, as if he’s trying to tell her to go and do it now. Only, she doesn’t want to leave, so she stands her ground.

“No,” she says and she puts her hands on his shoulders. “Not tonight, Rick. Please, not tonight.”

“Why not?” he says and she sees his eyes refocusing on her.

“I almost died and all I could think about was you. How I was so blinded by my anger that I didn’t even…” she sighs in frustration. She clenches her eyes, refocuses all her power to force down that damn wall inside her, to let him see her vulnerability too. “I love you.”

She hears a gasp and she takes a deep breath before she dares to look up at him again. His eyes search hers and she feels her heart race, because she can’t read him and what if she is too late? What if he’s moved on? Without another second she feels his hands on her hips, pushing her towards the door just as his lips claim hers in a hunger she hasn’t felt from him before. She feels the door against her back as she starts to kiss him back, her hands moving around his neck to pull him closer. Once they have to pull away for air their breaths mix between them, both panting.

“Say it again,” he pleads and she bites her tingling lip.

“I love you,” she whispers and sees his eyes light up even more.

“I love you too,” he whispers back and she feels her lips pull up in a big grin before she claims his lips with hers again.

She’ll take care of her work-situation tomorrow, right now she just wants to be here, with him. As close as they are right now, his lips on hers, body to body. His tongue finding hers and curling her toes. It’s just perfect.

The end

Prompt sent to me by @/for_katic_only on instagram. "So I was watching 4x23 yesterday because it's been 9 years and so I realized I had never read a fanfic in which Castle answers Ryan's phone call to help Beckett and is finally the on to save her on the roof."

#Castle #Caskett #Beckett #Rick Castle #Kate Beckett #Always #Castle always

[hlizr50]

Unveiled

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash

Poppy is unveiled to her new guard. Alternate POV.

Read on AO3

Everything had gone according to plan.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.

Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…

He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.

And he always got what he wanted.

“Hawke. Are you listening?”

He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember the oath?”

“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”

“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.

The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.

So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.

And he had done it.

But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.

And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.

The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.

That was unacceptable.

He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.

“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”

“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”

The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.

This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.

“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.

“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”

He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.

“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?

“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.

“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.

“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”

“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”

And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.

“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”

“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.

“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”

She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.

“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.

“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.

Gods. She was stunning.

Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”

That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.

He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.

“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.

He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.

And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.

#fbaa #fbaa fanfic #from blood and ash #poppy balfour #hawke flynn #casteel da'neer #alternate pov #ao3 #fanfiction

[waitimcomingtoo]

would it be too much to ask for another part of plank all over me? maybe this time is an autocomplete interview with both of them and there‘s rumors going around that they’re engaged or that she’s pregnant so they’re acting all mysterious for it... thank you so much ❤️ i loooove your stories!!

Plank All Over Me - Autocomplete Interview Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You and Tom do a WIRED autocomplete interview

Disclaimer: you do not have to have read the other parts to understand this, but check them out ;)

Plank All Over Me

Yoga Edition

Couples Tag

Prank Interview

Waitimcomingtoo Masterlist

“Hi, I’m Andrew Garfield.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“And I’m Emma Stone.” You blew a kiss at it.

“And this is our weird Autocomplete Interview.” Tom finished.

“It’s WIRED.” You giggled at his mistake.

“What’s wired?” Tom asked you.

“Nothing’s wired. The channel is WIRED.” You corrected. “You said “weird”.”

“My apologies.” Tom said to the camera and he rested his hand on your knee. “This is our WIRED Autocomplete Interview.”

“Dyslexic king.” You praised and Tom laughed. 

“I like how these videos gradually get more and more chaotic as we make them.” He smiled at the thought of the other stupid videos you’d done together.

“I can’t wait to be 80 and playing with puppies over at Buzzfeed.” You joked.

“You and me both, darling.” Tom leaned in and kissed you. “Should we start with mine or yours?” He asked as he picked up the boards of questions.

“I like to save the best for last, so yours first.” You quipped and Tom gave the camera a blank stare.

“Isn’t she sweet?” Tom said sarcastically. You picked up his first board and peeled off the first strip of paper.

“Who is…Tom Holland.” Tom read off the board.

“I bet my mom was the one who googled that when I told her we were dating.” You said and Tom laughed.

“My mom probably googles “who does Tom Holland think he is?” when I’m acting up.” Tom added.

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth with your hands. “Have I ever told you when your mom and I call you when you’re acting up?”

“No, what?” Tom inquired.

“No. I can’t.” You shook your head. “It’s our secret.”

“What? You have to tell me.” Tom shook your arm like a little kid. “Please?”

“Fine.” You sighed. “We call you Bitchy Elliot.”

“WHAT?” Tom screamed and you bent over laughing. “WHAT?”

“You wanted to know!” You reminded him.

“Bitchy Elliot? That’s not even clever.” He scoffed.

“It’s clever.” You disagreed. Tom picked up the board and dramatically ripped off a strip of paper.

“Who is Tom Holland…civil war.” You read amidst your giggles.

“Like who do I play?” Tom asked the camera.

“No, silly. They’re asking if you were on the North side or the South side of the American civil war.” You replied as if it were obvious.

“Oh, well I’m from Southwest-“ Tom began.

“The south was the racist side.” You interrupted.

“North.” Tom said definitively.

“I knew you didn’t know enough about American history to answer that question.” You laughed as you peeled the next strip off.

“Who is Tom Holland…girlfriend.” Tom read off the board.

“Whoever she is, I bet she loves proper grammar.” You poked fun at the phrasing.

“Y/n almost canceled our first date because I texted her and used the wrong form of “your”.” Tom told the camera.

“I think I was being completely reasonable.” You defended.

“Were you?” Tom squinted at you.

“Yes.” You answered and brushed his hair back. “Next question.”

“Where did Tom Holland…college.” Tom asked as he peeled the strip off.

“Oh God, where did Tom Holland college?” You asked in sarcastic amazement.

“I didn’t college.” Tom answered. “And I don’t think whoever asked this question did either.”

“Where did Tom Holland…meet Y/n.” You asked as you revealed the next question.

“We met over at BBC Radio 1 when we did the Plank All Over Me Challenge.” Tom replied with a smile.

“And I haven’t been unable to get rid of him since.” You said sadly. Tom rolled his eyes and peeled off the next question.

“Shut up.” He teased. “You love me.”

“Most days.” You agreed.

“Is Tom Holland…in the MCU.” Tom read off the board.

“He is!” You said excitedly. “I actually almost left the MCU when the Sony/Disney thing was going on because I didn’t want to be in it if Tom wasn’t.”

“She was two seconds away from not renewing her contract for Venom 2, so you have me thank for it happening.” Tom boated.

“Or we have the cast and crew to thank.” You suggested.

“Or me.” Tom shrugged as he revealed the next question. “Is Tom Holland…taller than Y/n.”

“You could ask “is Tom Holland taller than…” and no matter who you fill in the blank with, the answer would be no.” You stated.

“Haha!” Tom said sarcastically. “Read the next question.”

“Anything for you, shorty.” You laced your fingers though his and kissed the back of his hand. “Is Tom Holland…engaged.” You smirked a little when you read the question. Engagement rumors had been off the charts lately and you and Tom decided to be vague.

“I don’t know, is he?” Tom looked at the camera and tilted his head.

“Like engaged to a girl or engaged in combat?” You stroked your chin.

“Well he’s definitely not engaged in combat.” Tom confirmed and wiped his brow.

“So is he engaged to a girl?” You kept up the act.

“I can’t tell. He’s very mysterious. And very handsome.” He added.

“I wouldn’t go that far but he is pretty private about his personal life. I wish I could ask him.” You leaned your chin on your hand and sighed.

“I heard he’s pretty difficult to get a hold of.” Tom said sadly.

“Yeah. Maybe someone should give him a ring, see if he’ll answer.” You looked at the camera and shrugged. Tom peeled off the next question and dropped the paper on the floor.

“Is Tom Holland…British.” He read.

“He’s Australian.” You answered confidently as you revealed the next question.

“Does Tom Holland…drive.” He read off the board.

“No. He usually winds up his ears and flies off.” You said into the camera with a straight face. “They flutter like butterfly wings and that’s how we get around.”

“I think I know the answer to “is Tom Holland engaged?” now.” Tom mumbled.

“What’s the answer?” You asked him.

“No.” He told you before breaking into laughter. You cupped his face and kissed him swiftly as an apology.

“Was that your last one?” You asked when you noticed the lack of boards.

“Oh I guess it was.” Tom looked around. “Your turn.”

“Who is Y/n L/n…mcu.” You read. “Uh I play Iron Man.”

“She plays Iron Man very well.” Tom added as he peeled off the next question. “Is Y/n L/n…pregnant. Wow, second question.”

“Do I look pregnant?” You sassed the camera.

“Is Y/n L/n…engaged.” Tom read the next one.

“Nope, just pregnant.” You nodded.

“Is Y/n L/n…married.” Tom revealed the following question.

“Married to the money.” You answered and Tom chuckled.

“Is Y/n L/n…Tom Holland’s girlfriend.” Tom smiled as he read the next one.

“Depends on who you ask.” You shrugged.

“No, always.” Tom said, a little offended.

“Depends.” You shrugged again.

“Depends on what? Who would say no?” Tom questioned you.

“Me, if a cute boy asked.” You joked. He made a face and you laughed before kissing him.

“Is Y/n L/n…engaged to Tom Holland.” Tom read the next one.

“Im engaged in this conversation with Tom Holland.” You replied.

“Why does everyone keep asking if we’re engaged?” Tom asked with fake curiosity.

“Because we are.” You deadpanned.

“Oh right.” Tom matched your seriousness before you both burst into laughter.

“They’re probably asking because of the prank interview we did with Conor and Josh.” You reminded him.

“We didn’t say we were engaged.” Tom said.

“But we talked about marriage.” You countered.

“Guys, we’re not engaged.” Tom said to the camera.

“But Tom is pregnant.” You pointed at the camera. Tom laughed before peeled off the next question.

“Did Y/n L/n…win the plank challenge.” He read.

“I don’t even remem-“ You started.

“I won.” Tom stated. “I hold the record.”

“Well there you have it.” You laughed.

“Did Y/n L/n-“ He started to read the next one.

“Ryan Reynolds.” You cut him off.

“Oh okay.” Tom nodded as he peeled the next one. “Does Y/n L/n…have a boyfriend.”

“See the above answer.” You smiled at the camera.

“This is a video. There is no above answer.” Tom sassed. “And your boyfriend is not Ryan Reynolds.” He added quietly.

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed sadly. Tom made a mock hurt face and you pouted.

“Aw.” You laughed. “I love you.” You pulled him close to you and covered his face in kisses.

“Okay. I love you too.” Tom kissed your cheek. “There’s one more. Does Y/n L/n…John Mulaney.”

“I genuinely do not know how to answer that question.” You said after a minute of silence.

“I genuinely don’t know if that is a question.” Tom added.

“I think that’s a great way to end the interview.” You laughed. “Thanks John Mulaney.”

“Thank you for watching our Autocomplete Interview.” Tom grinned. “I’m Tom Holland.”

“And I’m engaged to Tom Holland.” You finally confirmed as you held up the hand with the ring. “Goodbye!”

Tag List 🏷

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[masterkief]

request: yo ryan and a female y/n are a couple and have s3x on the recording couch go

hiii @sweat-pantss I...I hope this okay and not too intense I’m just really foul and gross..🥴 and may or may not want ryan to do exactly all of this to me.

- -

When we got to the party it had been way past started. There were already people stumbling around drunk, the loud music throwing them all off balance. Looking around I realized I knew no one, until we were met by Ryan’s friends he did youtube shit with. We all greeted each other and I swear his best friend Matt hugged me longer than usual...the smell of gin seeping through his pores. Quickly shaking it off we split up, the boys heading somewhere while I made my way to the booze.

20 minutes or so later my head was shaking to the music bumping through the house; I was drunk already...way drunk. I sluggishly looked around the kitchen area for Ryan, my eyes heavy with tequila. Thinking I heard someone call my name I turned quickly (too quickly) only to stumble forward, my body landing against someone. When my eyes finally went straight I found myself standing face to face with Matt. I absentmindedly backed away, my back pressing against a nearby counter.

“Matt.” I sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

An odd hunger bubbled in his pupils forcing my eyes to widen a bit. I took a big slow sip from my cup, words escaping me.

“You look hella good Y/N.” He said bluntly.

My body shook violently and it took all I had not to choke on my drink. Taking another sip I mumbled a “thank you” into the cup; Matt acting out of character making me nervous. Without warning Matt managed to push himself up against me, his arms on either side of me so I couldn’t escape. I finally choked on my drink not being able to take it anymore and tried to push him away.

“Matt, what? Ryan...” My words came out jumbled, my breathing getting heavier.

He snickered and put a hand up to my neck, holding onto it gently. My teeth clenched onto my bottom lip and my eyes rolled into my head as I tried to hold onto my self-control.

“Awh come on Y/N fuck that guy.” He breathed, grinding his hips into me. “You could have m-...”

Matt was cut short by an unknown force ripping him from me. I jolted out of my inebriated stupidity, my eyes flying open to meet with a very pissed off looking Ryan.

“Ryan.” I barely got out.

His hands were balled into fists, his knuckles white. In one quick movement he was against me like Matt had been a moment ago.

“Recording room.” He growled, “Now.”

The anger in his voice quaked my entire body. Ryan got jealous here and there but this was a side of him I’d never seen.

Pushing me through the house, the trip up the steps was a total blur....my head swimming with the thought of what was going to happen next. Ryan slammed the door shut behind us, my nerves and emotions losing their shit.

“Do you love me?”

For a moment the wild fire that was burning through his eyes calmed. He backed away from me and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yes Y/N I love you.” He groaned through gritted teeth.

Tilting my head back, I rested it against the wall behind me, my temper over this insanity growing thin.

“Then please just calm down Ryan.” I moaned, “Please?”

“Do you want him?”

His question caught me off guard. I snapped my head forward and stared at him in amazement.

“Ryan...I...” I stumbled nervously over my words. “No...what?”

Ryan snickered.

“I saw Matt all over you.” He continued, “And it didn’t look like you minded.”

My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I ran my fingers through my hair like Ryan had before; sliding down the wall to my butt.

“I didn’t exactly realize what was going on until it was too late.” I huffed.

Ryan turned away from me for a second before putting his fiery gaze back on me. A glaze of tears had coated his eyes and all I wanted to do was run to him but I felt like he’d just move away.

“Did you like it?” He asked out of nowhere, his voice shaking.

I swallowed hard and began chewing my bottom lip, his attitude changing so rapidly freaking me out.

“You did didn’t you?!” Ryan spat, angry again. “You fucking liked it!”

Silence hovered above us and I watched Ryan rack his brain for something else to say. Instead he rushed to me, his thighs suddenly in front of my eyes. I looked up at him slowly, his face twisted with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Get up.” He ordered.

My eyebrows pulled together and my lips formed a straight line.

“Get. Up.” He said again between clenched teeth.

Stomach dropping, I hesitated a moment before slowly rising to my feet. Ryan put a hand against the wall next to my head, our faces only inches apart.

“Ryan...I...”

He took his other hand and put his index finger to my lips to quiet my stammering. I felt my head begin to spin from both the alcohol and his actions; my insides heating up. His finger remained on my lips while his other hand grabbed my neck.

“I saw the way you looked at him.” He breathed, “And I saw how he was looking at you.”

“Ryan please, he was wasted.” I sighed.

“Get on the couch.” He said, pulling me away from the wall.

Without a word I did as he said. Before I could sit though my body was thrown downward, my back to him. Taking my hands, he held them behind my back. I felt him behind me and shivered as he cautiously pressed himself into me.

“You’re mine Y/N.” He punctuated the word ‘mine’ by ramming into me harshly.

I leaned my head backward feeling faint and rested it on Ryan’s shoulder; his hand slipping around my neck. My eyes rolled and my breathing got even heavier.

“See you’re mine.” He purred in my ear.

He freed my hands that were still behind my back and used his hand to grab my waist, pulling me back into him. A moan built up in my throat but I refused to let it out.

“You acted like a little slut tonight Y/N.”

The way the word ‘slut’ rolled off his tongue threw my stomach into an uproar.

His mouth was now against my neck swirling circles on my skin with his tongue, nipping at it. All at once he forced me forward, my neck against the back of the couch; Ryan’s chest heaving up and down heavily against my spine.

“Tell me you want me.” He growled resting his forehead against the bottom on my neck.

I couldn’t find my voice at first but his sudden thrust against me stirred me. The moan I had been holding back finally burst from my mouth.

“Please Ryan.” I pleaded, “I need you, I want you.”

Ryan chuckled breathlessly against my skin and in one swift movement ripped my jeans down to my ankles, completely exposing me to him. Gripping my ass, he squeezed it for a second before breaking his touch from me completely. I heard him pulling his shorts down and before long he was pulling me back into him by my neck. His other hand that was resting against my back quickly slammed down against the bare skin of my ass; my body trembling as I called out.

Thank god this room was soundproof.

Ryan and I have had sex plenty of times but never like this. He kept his grip tight around my neck as he pushed himself inside me. My eyes flew open as he slid all the way in and a smile formed on my lips as he pumped me. I could almost feel the brash grin on his face which was almost enough to make me cum alone. With his free hand he lifted one of my legs, holding it that way so that he could get even deeper.

“Christ Ryan. Harder.”

My words worked him up harder and he continued a fast pace; bringing me closer to my anticipated finish.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He demanded.

I got tighter as he went the fact that he was dominating me putting me at a loss for words. Ryan slammed into me as hard as possible and pulled on my neck again; his mouth connecting sloppily to my jaw.

“Tell me Y/N.” He demanded again.

“I’m yours Ryan, I’m yours.” I cried, gasping for air.

Ryan slumped forward and released my leg, his mouth now breathing hard against my ear as he continued to have his way with me. He whispered more obscenities into my ear and I was completely done for. I pulsated around him and knew he was going to cum soon too. He pulled me into him more, pushing violently against my ass until he groaned a breathy ‘fuck’ and collapsed next to me on the couch. Going to my knees first, I then fell over onto my back and put my head on his lap.

“Ryan you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” I assured finally once my brain caught up with me.

“So you don’t want Matt?”

I inhaled deeply and reached up to pinch his cheek.

“No Ry, I want you.” I smiled, “Only you.”

“Promise me forever?” He asked holding my hand in place against his face.

I chuckled softly and stoked his jaw with my thumb.

“I promise.”

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