#(Might want to watch through to the end though!!)

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it’s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[leclerity]

just another stranger

Charles Leclerc x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader count: 1.4k words summary: After Charles's win in Monaco, he seeks you out, to mend things. a/n: everybody cried at the monaco gp but let's cry some more! (happy ending)

He wins in Monaco. You knew he would—it was only a matter of time—but you always thought you’d be by his side when he won.

Yet here you are, in your friend’s apartment, watching him as if you were just another stranger to him.

“He won,” your friend says, a moment too soon, and then: “CHARLES LECLERC WON IN MONACO!”

The room erupts into cheers and you’re watching half the race playing on the TV, half the track from the window, hearing the roars of the audience match those of your heart. Your friend hugs you and the rest of your friends are screaming, popping champagne as if they were the ones in the car, not your ex-boyfriend.

You feel an arm around your shoulders – it’s your best friend. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Promise,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

She goes away and you lean out of the window, hoping to catch the sight of his car passing by. If he drives slowly enough, if he remembers that this is where your best friend’s apartment is, if he looks up… You tell yourself not to hope, but your heart thumps in your chest, anyway.

The roars of the crowd come before the car, and then you see him – the striking red car with 16 stuck to the front. You’ve been here before—in Monaco, with him, in the paddock—yet now you’re watching him from a distance. It was his choice, all those months ago, but your final word.

He doesn’t look up.

Not that you see, anyway.

The victory lap finishes and your friends all rush to the couch to watch the podium, even though you can just about see if from the window. It’s not close enough to see anything more than tiny figures, dressed in splotches of colour, but it makes it just a little more real.

The podium comes and goes. You tear up, on the balcony, shifting between looking at the events in real life and on the TV. There’s the tiny voice in the back of your head, wondering if he’s wondering about you, too, but you try to push it down.

Still, on the podium, even with tears of joy in his eyes, you see him searching the crowd. They’ve already shown his family and most of his friends are down there and he knows it, and the voice suggests he might be looking for you, too.

“Let’s go out,” your friend says. “Celebrate.”

“I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“You don’t want to meet him by chance? Congratulate him yourself?”

You give her a look that tells her it’s just about the last thing you want.

Eventually, your friends leave, and you’re left by yourself, scrolling social media. He’s everywhere—all your friends from Monaco are posting about it, even those you haven’t seen since you moved away—and his face stares at you, guilt brewing in your stomach.

You’d made him choose.

He didn’t choose you.

When the door buzzes, you think it’s your friend who forgot her key—they’ve been out for a couple of hours now and they’d be at least a few drinks down—yet when you buzz them up and open the door…

It’s he who stares back at you.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Can we talk?”

You let him in. He sits on the couch, still wearing his Ferrari shirt,

“I thought you’d have gotten changed by now.”

Charles shakes his head. “I, uh… I came straight here.”

You sit down, opposite of him. Through the open window, you can hear life from the streets of Monaco – loud, drunk people, celebrating the win as if it were their own. Your friends are there, amongst those people, but you…

“Why?”

“I know you moved away,” he says. “And I remember where your friend lives. And I hoped…”

He doesn’t finish. You see the cogs turning—the words flying around his brain, refusing to come out—and you smile at him. “Congratulations.”

He sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“You’re not happy?”

“No.” Charles looks at you, his eyes crystal clear, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. “How could I be, without you?”

“Charles—”

“How many times have we spoken about this? About the win, at home, with you by my side?”

Your body shudders as memories flood you: the nights spent together, whispering about it in the dark… The dream of him driving up the car and running up to kiss you, knowing that you made it… The promise of being there to watch him step on the podium as the anthem is played…

The guilt grows bigger, and you stifle a sob.

Charles shakes his head. “I wish you were there. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away. I wish I’d appreciated you more.”

But you didn’t, you want to say, but you don’t.

Old you would. Old you wanted to be the first, the priority, the number one to the great Charles Leclerc – only to always fall second, behind racing. Behind the car. Behind practice. Behind excercise. There was less and less time made for you, until you told him to choose.

He puts a hand on your knee. “I know this isn’t fair, but it’s been nearly a year, and I… I was wrong. I was wrong, okay? Coming home to an empty bed, not knowing how your day’s been, not seeing you in the paddock every race, Y/N, it’s killing me.”

It’s killing me, too, you want to say, but you don’t. You can’t—won’t—admit that out loud.

Someone’s laughter pierces through the night. Charles’s eyes dart to the window before they’re right back on you and he moves closer, and the part of your thighs touching shocks you to the core.

You try to remind yourself you’re just another stranger to him. You weren’t worth more than racing to him then, you’re not worth—

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers.

A tear falls down your cheek – he wipes it away before you can, and then he’s looking at your lips with water welling up in his eyes, too.

“Charles…”

“I wish I could—I want to go back to a time before it was too late. I want to fix things. I want to do it right, and not be a damn fool again.”

His hands are on your cheek and you can feel his breath on your lips – all it would take is for you to lean in. Just a little movement, just a little show of faith. You whisper his name again, this time no more than a breath.

You feel him sigh. “It’s not winning if it’s not with you.”

Your lips are on his, tentative then desperate, trying to make up for all the words you can’t bright yourself to stay. His hands are on your cheeks, then your waist, then your back, and you feel like he’s touching you all over just to make sure you’re real, that he’s truly holding you, and not a dream.

You don’t say that the past few months have been the worst of your life. You don’t say that you were selfish, and that maybe you failed to account for who he is, and always will be—a racer—and maybe you were the one who was asking too much from him. Maybe you’d rather be second to him, than be anyone else’s first.

And maybe you’ve known this all along, but admitting it was too much – until today.

Until now.

The kiss comes to a close and Charles pulls you into him, skin on skin, and you’re melting into his arms. He places kisses all over your hair, your face, your neck and your chest, not letting go of you even for a moment.

Later in the night, when you’re lying in your friend’s spare bed, you see the winner’s smile for the first time as he kisses you yet again. Monaco is alive outside, with the night still a long way to go, but partying couldn’t measure up to the electricity surging from his touch.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Mhm?”

His thumb traces your lips. You’ve been here before—a million times—but this time, it’s different. It’s old and new, fresh and familiar, and just a little, you start letting yourself hope again.

“Now, I feel like I’ve finally won.”

[bajicantspell]

Kodzuken in my DMs ❕

Summary: Kenma trying (and failing) to make a move  → Warnings: cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Despite his dislike for being recognized in public and the inevitable social interactions that fame entails, he couldn't deny that it came with its advantages. For starters, living in a big house in his early twenties wasn’t something he could complain about. Sure, it might have been just a rental and not in Roppongi Hills, but that wasn't due to any financial constraints; he simply chose not to. Kenma couldn't complain, he loved helping his loved ones. Whether it was sponsoring his friend's volleyball career or paying off his parents' debt, it felt nice to be useful.

Honestly he never expected himself to get this far this early in his life. It really felt like one day he was streaming in his old room for the ten people that happened to join and the next day he’s a ceo of a company. 

However, one thing that Kenma anticipated to be much easier, but found it wasn't, was dealing with women. Its not like the requests weren’t piling up; it seemed like every hour there was a new girl in his requests offering him everything lewd imaginable.

 Sure, meaningless sex could be nice once in a while, but lately he’s been feeling very lonely. Kuroo was always working, his parents lived far away, Hinata was in fucking Brazil. Aside from calls with them and the occasional visits, tedious work meetings, and interactions in his stream chat, he had no contact with anyone. Kenma also considered that it might be FOMO, but the fact that he had never had a girlfriend didn't help. In high school, he avoided women at all costs. In college, he went on a few dates, but nothing serious came of them—just one okay-ish hookup. Then he went viral, and dating became harder, because it seemed every conversation ended up being about him and his internet presence. 

Kenma sighed while scrolling through another dating app. Everytime he matched with someone and the first message they’d sent was “OMFG ARE YOU KODZUKEN”  he wanted to smash the phone screen just a little more. Giving up, he sank deeper into his gaming chair, taking a few deep breaths. He needed to be relaxed for the stream he was about to start.

If you could tell your awkward-ugly-duckling middle school self that you would one day have nearly ten thousand Instagram followers just for being pretty, she would have laughed in your face. Though you were extremely grateful, it wasn't as if your life was substantially different from anyone else's. You don’t get payed for posting, you’re still a regular university student, and aside from the occasional scammy sponsorship offer that you always turned down (and the creepy men asking you to start an OnlyFans), there wasn’t anything outstandingly different about your life.One thing you did brag about to your friends, however, was that the famous streamer Kodzuken had been following you for a couple of months now.  Part of you was convinced it was accidental though, since he never watches any stories or interacts with any posts. Bummer, you thought he’s really cute. 

“I’m gonna buy a fucking gun and shoot myself” Kenma complained to Kuroo during their weekly call. 

“You say while wiping your tears with money” 

“Oh fuck off, I’m serious! I tried everything. I swear I’ll resort to just fucking my hand for the rest of my life” 

Kuroo snickered, then he started thinking of solutions for his lonely friend. “Okay, instead of being a drama queen in her fucking castle lets try to be reasonable. What have you tried so far?”

Kenma sighed, “Mostly dating apps to be honest. Ain’t working. Also checked my requests and they all sound like the plots to a bad porno.” 

“Seriously? Like what?” Kenma could hear Kuroo’s smug smile through the phone.

“Dude there was one where she offered to lick my toes. Not gonna lie it was tempting.” Kenma joked, earning a loud laugh from Kuroo. 

“Damn, living the dream. Anyway, have you tried making a move though? Cause what I’m getting from this is you expecting the woman of your dreams to fall from the sky.” 

“How could i even do that? Can’t go outside without a crowd following me around. Can’t imagine a girl who feels comfortable getting hit on by a dude with an army behind him.” Kenma sighed. 

“I didnt mean that dumbass, I know that. I mean like shooting your shot through social media or something. There must be at least one babe that cought your eye.” Kuroo reasoned. 

Kenma paused and thought for a moment, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink.

“Well there is one…” 

“Oh yea? Who?” Kuroo smirked. 

“She’s not like, famous or anything, which I like. It’s @(youruser). Found her a couple of months ago. Physically she’s exactly my type, like everything is exactly what i like in a girl; face, body, hair, style, the whole shtick. Followed her a couple of months ago, didnt have the courage to say anything though.” Kenma nervously explained. 

“I say send her something, what’s the worst that can happen? Getting rejected? So what? Then you move on.” 

“I don’t know…I think she’s really pretty, shooting my shot and then messing up means it’d be weird to still follow her. Don’t wanna make her uncomfy. She doesn’t post anything crazy, just selfies and outfit inspo, but she’s so fucking cute in every pic and video, drives me crazy.” Kenma sheepishly smiled. 

“Even if she does turn you down if you’re nice about it I doubt she’ll be uncomfortable. I say do it.” 

Kenma sighed, knowing Kuroo was right. He opened Instagram and searched for your profile, keeping the call with Kuroo active in case you replied quickly. 

*ding* 

 You were in the middle of doing some coursework when your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you expected it to be a new follower. Your eyes went wide when you realized the notification said ‘@kodzuken wants to send you a message’.

No fucking way, you thought. 

You anxiously unlocked your phone, your focus completely shifting from your studies. 

What you didnt know is that  an equally anxious Kenma was patiently waiting for at least a ‘seen’ with his best bud on the line. 

You opened the message. 

Kodzuken: Hey :) 

Your finger hovered over the keyboard of your phone for just a second before replying.

You: Hiiiii

You cringed at your reply, it seemed to childish and dry at the same time. 

Kenma didnt think so, he was too busy panicking over the fact that you replied. Maybe he never got over his social anxiety after all. 

“Dude she replied.” He said, not fully believing himself. 

“Damn, that was fast,’ Kuroo smirked, ‘I’ll leave you lovebirds alone, gotta catch up on some work stuff. Talk to you later!” 

“Wait Kuro don’t-” before Kenma could finish his sentence the call was over. 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance- “Asshole”, he mumbled.  

He stared at the screen, unable to muster the courage to type anything. It was then that he realized this might be the first time he truly liked a girl, due to the anxious feeling that had left him since high school. With trembling fingers unable to type anything, he sighed and set his phone down, promising himself he would reply in an hour. However, that hour stretched into several, and then two days passed. He felt insanely pathetic. 

Kenma was on call with Kuroo again, Kuroo couldn’t stop complaining about the shitty meeting he had the day before.

“He was such an asshole, fucking bastard rolled his eyes everytime my colleagues and I talked. Like shut the fuck up. If you hate your job this fucking much at least don’t bring misery into ours.” 

Kenma could only hum in response, preoccupied with setting up for his stream while his mind was flooded with self-critical thoughts.

Kuroo noticed the uncharacteristic response from his best friend- If there was one thing Kenma loved, it was shit talk, and Kuroo knew that all too well from years and years of friendship with him, and the countless brutalities that Kenma would throw at him and others he was comfortable with. He would point out things in such a monotone way, you couldn’t even be mad. Kenma was a hater to his core, so not hearing even a snicker from the other side of the line was concerning. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” He asked.

“Yea its whatever.” 

Kuroo suspected what this might be about. 

“So uh.. how did things with the girl go?” 

“They didn’t fucking go.” Kenma let out a huff of laughter through his nose, tinged with self-pity.

“Hm? How come?” 

“I panicked and left her on seen. And I highly doubt I can recover that now. Like what am I gonna say? Hi sorry I left you on seen even though I texted you first, I’m just too fucking high and mighty to reply.” 

“Well definitely don’t say that.” Kuroo joked. 

“I seriously fumbled. Fuck,” Kenma muttered just loud enough for Kuroo to hear, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, man. These things happen,” Kuroo said empathetically, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Everyone fucks up sometimes. You just need to give yourself a break.”, though he didnt get a response from the overthinker. 

“You’re gonna start a stream soon yea?” Kuroo changed the subject, he knew that the best way to make Kenma feel better was to distract him or piss him off a little. The second part was coming later. 

“Yea, almost done setting up. Gonna start in five.” 

“I might stay and watch a little today, I’m off work for the weekend.”

“Kay, I’m gonna hang up now. ‘Bout to start.” 

You checked the chat a couple of times during those two days, though the bitter ‘seen’ never changed. You couldn’t lie, you were a little disappointed. You didnt know much about video games, but you enjoyed his streams once in a while. He was a bit of a celebrity crush for you. 

It was the weekend, and with not much to do, you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram stories to kill time. You stumbled upon Kodzuken’s story, it was a picture of his monitor, with the text “streaming” and a link to his twitch. Although you were disappointed with the outcome of your “conversation”, you thought it couldn’t hurt watching for a bit. 

You clicked the link, and as you entered the stream, the first thing you noticed was his not-so-happy expression. His chat was filled with messages asking if he was okay.

You watched for a little bit, nothing particularly special happening. 

As you were about to click off, Kenma snapped at his chat. "Guys, I'm fine! Please stop asking." The irritation in his voice was evident. Despite his words, the tone of his voice betrayed him, revealing a hint of underlying frustration or perhaps even distress.

Another autogenerated voiced question popped on the screen, something that happens with every donation. “Okay man! Whatever it is, don’t worry, we won’t nag you.” The robotic tone of the voice did little to mask the genuine concern behind the words.

 Kenma’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he forced a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice easing slightly. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I appreciate it, really. Let’s just focus on the game, okay?”

You decided to stay for just a little longer, puzzled at the unfamiliar demeanor of the famous streamer. 

A few minutes go by, and another donation followed by the familiar robotic voice  “@KUROROROTETSU : don’t mind him he fumbled the insta baddie” 

Your cheeks flushed for just a second though you were quickly brought back to reality by the man on the screen in front of you.

“Fucking kill yourself. Like I’m not even kidding I need you dead on my doorstep.” Kenma cursed to distract you the audience from his embarrassment, his eyebrows furrowed and a huge shit eating grin plastered on his face.

The chat started blowing up with laughs and ‘Kodzu’s back guys’

Kenma added, “before anyone cancels me that was my best friend of twenty years, don’t take the clip out of context.” He laughed.

Your favorite comment was someone saying “guys kodzu gets not bitches he’s just like me fr”, it made you let out a small giggle.

You debated with yourself, engaging in a mental monologue. ‘If I send him a message and it turns out to be about me, that’s the best case scenario. The worst case is completely humiliating myself in front of someone really famous,’ you reasoned.

You decided that a little embarrassment was a risk worth taking this time.

Kenma continued playing as usual, engaging and laughing with his audience. He felt his phone buzz and saw the screen light up beside him.

@(youruser) : for the record, I don’t think you fumbled me <3

He glanced at the screen, reading the notification, and immediately turned beet red. His heart raced as he processed the message. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the camera, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment, as if he were looking directly at you through the screen.

“I uh.. hold on guys i need to reply to this for a second.” He said as he proceeded to pause metal gear solid. 

Your screen was still open to your chat, and a surge of excitement ran through you when you saw the telltale indicator that he was typing.

Kodzuken : holy shit I’m so sry, didn’t know you were watching 

(Youruser) : ahahah dw its fine

Kodzuken : can I text you after I’m done? Totally fine if u don’t wanna tho

Well it wasn’t totally fine, he really hoped you’d say yes.

(Youruser) : I’ll be waitiiiing :) 

Needless to say, that was the longest a stream had ever felt. He could hardly wait to finish so he could talk to you; properly this time.

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

part two coming sooooon, also i found these banners on Pinterest, if anyone knows who made these pls lmk so i can give credit

[mountainsandmayhem]

Do Your Worst, Little Dove

Little Dove Masterlist

Pairing: Sub!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Joel lets you take charge for once.

Word Count: 7.2K

CW: Submissive Joel, spitting, oral (male receiving), toys, anal play, light bondage, praise kink, slight degradation kink, Joel is having the best time while simultaneously having the worst time

AN: I don’t know what came over me with this one, but like….I think I might be a dom? Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for dealing with me yelling about this. Love you all

Joel lets out a hiss as you tighten the leather cuff around his wrist. The metal buckle rubs roughly against the smooth black leather as you bind his arms to the headboard. He balls his fists and the veins in his forearms start to pop below the skin. You step to the end of the bed and admire your handy work. He looks fucking hot - in just his unbuttoned jeans, arms stretched above his head, wrists bound together and tethered to the bed.

“Are you sure about this, Joel?” You ask timidly, even though you’re jumping for joy on the inside at the chance to play with him for once.

He lifts his head off the bed to look at you, “Yes, baby. If you want to try being in charge, I’ll sub for you.”

You bounce on the balls of your feet and smile sweetly at him, “ok good.”

You walk towards your closet, and his head falls back to the bed, turning to rest his cheek on the mattress as he watches you. “Because I’ve been thinking,” you say, your back towards him as you slide open your closet door, “well, I’ve been thinking about what kind of domme I am.”

“That right?” Joel says as you dig through one of the drawers, looking for the sexy little outfit you bought for tonight.

“Mmmhmm and I don’t think I’m a whips and leather type - ah, there you are,” you hide the lingerie from Joel’s view and sneak into the bathroom to change, with a quick glance at Joel you notice his cock already getting hard behind his jeans.

You undress before sliding on a pair of baby blue lacy panties. They have little yellow and pink flowers embroidered on them, that are paired with a matching corset that plunges deep between your breasts. It hugs you in all the right places and you know Joel is going to lose his mind.

“Little Dove? You coming back?” He calls from the bedroom. You smirk at yourself in the mirror. He’s needy for you for once, and that’s a very powerful feeling.

You slip on your white silk dressing gown and head back to the bedroom. “That’s another thing I was thinking of. What are you going to call me? Because I am certainly not your Little Dove in this scene.”

You climb up and straddle him, careful to not let him see what’s underneath your silky cover up. Leaning forward and bracing yourself with your hands beside his head, you brush your lips against his, pulling back when he tries to kiss you.

He lets out a deep groan as you grind down on him. “I think you should call me ‘goddess’ while we do this. Do you think you can do that?”

His breathing is already starting to get ragged and jumpy. “Yes, my goddess,” he says deeply. The baritone of his voice fills your body, a wave of arousal flooding you.

“As I was saying,” you sit back up and start to slowly pull the tie of your dressing gown, “I don’t think I’m the whips and leather type of domme. I might inflict a little pain today, baby. But overall -“ your dressing gown slips off your shoulders, pooling around you and Joel’s hips.

His eyes widen and he pulls on the restraints, so badly wanting to touch your body that’s wrapped in a delicate blue lace as you continue to talk to him, “Overall I just want to take care of you. Please you.”

“So fuckin’ pretty, Little Dove,” he hums. You pinch his nipple roughly and he hisses, “Goddess. Sorry. Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth, “Look s’beautiful, my goddess.”

You kiss his nipple better, then continue up his chest to that sensitive spot below his ear and whisper “Good boy” before sitting back up. Joel is surprised but how those two little words go straight to his cock. As you grind your pussy down you feel him grow fully hard. “You’re going to need a safe word, baby.”

Joel raises one eyebrow at you, “Everything we talked about was pretty tame. I think I’ll be ok.”

You hop off him and make your way to the foot of the bed, grabbing his jeans by the hem and pulling them down his legs. The denim makes a scratching noise against your soft bedding, until he’s left in just his tight black boxers.

“Roll over, baby.” You say sweetly, deciding that your domme personality is going to look and sound nice, but she certainly doesn’t appreciate Joel dismissing what she’s capable of. You watch his broad body roll as you walk to stand along the side of the bed. As he settles onto his stomach you continue, “Did I hear a little attitude? Saying you don’t need a safe word?”

You scrape your nails gently up his leg, starting at his ankle, swirling your fingers as you move up to the hem of his underwear. “No, goddess,” he says with a moan.

“Well, it certainly sounded like it, as punishment that’s one denied orgasm.”

He huffs out a breath. “Yes, my goddess.”

You roll the band of his underwear down so it sits just below his muscular ass cheeks. You bend over to place some lingering kisses along his round cheeks. He relaxes into the mattress, melting under your touch. He shuts his eyes, humming at the sensation. With his hands above his head like this, he has to rest his forehead on the mattress, he’s blind to what you’re doing which just heightens the feeling of your lips.

“I want you to thank me when I deny you that orgasm, Joel. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, my goddess.” He whispers. He’s so relaxed that you almost feel bad grabbing your new paddle from under the bed. It’s a pretty, soft pink leather paddle with Good Boy cut into it. You can’t wait to see his skin pink up around the letters.

You trail the soft leather of the small paddle up his one leg. “I got you a little present today, baby boy,” you say, voice a little more stern but still sweet. “Do you know what it is?”

You trace the outer globe of his ass, over his lower back and down to the other hip. “No,” he whispers, the paddle now moving down his other leg.

“Did you want to guess?” You say, watching his body twitches in anticipation when you pull it away from his skin.

“Felt like leather. Maybe a paddle?” He guesses.

You bring the paddle down on his right ass cheek, not hard, but enough to have him suck in a sharp breath. You strike again in the same spot, harder this time and he pulls on his restraints, gasping a little.

“Sssshhh. You’re ok baby,” you rub his right cheek, the word showing very faintly across his ass. You feel yourself getting wetter, if you do this a few more times you’re sure your panties will be ruined. For good measure, you strike him two more times in quick succession. The hits are a little softer but you know from being Joel’s sub that those often sting the most. He moans and gasps, he’s only held to the bed by his hands, he could easily roll away. But something inside of him is telling him to stay, learn what it’s really like to be on the other side, but also prove to himself that he can do this.

‘Good Boy’ is now almost tattooed across his right cheek. The word written on his tanned skin, the stinging pink skin around it acting like a neon sign. You use the other side of the paddle to rub his cheek. His body jolts with the soft contact - he’s on edge, not sure what you’re going to do next and not expecting gentleness. “Fuck, goddess. That hurt.”

“I know, Joel. That’s the point.” You kiss the tender skin of his cheek a few times before continuing. “I’m proud of you. And you should see your ass right now. Proudly displaying what a good boy you are for me.”

You roll his underwear band back up and he lets out an impatient groan. “What’s that sound for?”

Joel huffs out a breath, “Nothing, my goddess. I’m sorry.”

You click your tongue at him, “You are so impatient. This big strong man of mine, already whining for me to touch his cock.” You straddle his lower back, lean your body down into him and grip his hair tightly, pulling his neck back. He lets out a pained moan as you lick a line up his cheek before whispering into his ear, “I’m just getting started little one.”

You release his hair, his forehead landing softly on the mattress. “On your back,” you bark, swinging your leg around and standing at the side of the bed again. You slowly open the bedside drawer where Joel keeps all the toys and accessories that he loves to tease you with.

“Do you still think you don’t need a safe word?”

Joel winces as his sore cheek hits the mattress. “Goddess, if I survived watching you build that goddamn ikea bookcase. I can survive anything.”

You smirk and bite your cheek stopping the laugh from escaping. Every so often Joel Miller, a man of few words, makes a joke that you are never expecting. “Maybe your safe word should be Allan key.” You retort.

“Yes, goddess,” he says with a wink.

You shuffle some things around in the drawer before finding what you’re looking for - the beginner metal pinwheel. While it looks intimidating, it’s not as sharp as the one Joel now uses on you.

“We are going to play a little game, baby boy,” you start, placing the pinwheel in the band of your underwear and walking to the foot of the bed. “I am going to set a timer for one minute intervals. I’m going to play with your cock for one minute, then use the pinwheel on your body for the next minute. Is that ok with you?”

Joel’s breathing is coming in faster, goosebumps have spread across his body as he stares up at the ceiling. “Y-yes,” he sputters as you slide his boxers down his legs. “Please touch me, my goddess.”

“Oh Joel,” you say his name slowly and sweetly. “Joel…Joel…Joel. You’re not in charge, sweet boy. I think this means we are now at two denied orgasms.”

He groans quietly towards the ceiling. You grab your phone and open your interval timer, setting it upright on the nightstand so Joel can see it. “Since you seem to have no patience, I’m going to start with the pinwheel. If you’re about to come at any moment, you need to tell me. Now say ‘yes, goddess’ and thank me.”

Joel’s bound hands clench into fists, eyes glazing over as your finger hovers over the start button. “Yes, my goddess. Thank you.”

You tap the screen, your matte black manicured fingernail clicking against the screen protector and then bring the pinwheel to the smooth skin of the inside of his forearm, running it to his elbow slowly. Goosebumps spread along his skin, it amazes you to see the response from this side. A simple act, that’s tender and trusting. You could cause him pain with just the simple flick or flex of the wrist, and he knows that. As his eyes close and a steady hum vibrates in his chest, you smile at your beautiful partner. He’s so handsome. So soft. So yours.

The trail of your pinwheel continues down his bicep and onto his strong chest. You roll just below his collarbone to the other shoulder. As a quiet beep of the timer goes off. Another minute starts counting down automatically and you drop the pinwheel on his chest before grabbing his already rock hard cock in your hand. Stroking him up and down gently.

“Fuck, goddess. Fuck,” he’s already breathing heavily, eyes squeezed tightly. You squeeze tighter, stroking all the way up, milking a bead of pre cum from the tip. You can’t fight the urge, lapping up the cum with the tip of your warm tongue. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You can tell he’s already on the edge, which is exactly where you want him. You suck the needy red tip of his cock into your mouth and flatten your tongue, circling along the sensitive ridge along the bottom. He lets out a growling moan which quickly turns into a whine of protest as the timer beeps. “No. Please.”

“Shhh,” you hush him gently as you roll over his chest with the wheel, adding a bit more pressure this time. Trailing across his strong pecs, the tanned skin left dimpled behind the spokes of the pinwheel. “You look so beautiful right now, Joel Miller. Lying here so still for me. Such a good boy.”

A little smile crosses Joel’s face at your praise. The love between the two of you seems to fill the air, making the room feel small and shut off from the rest of the world. You trail the wheel down his sternum and then diagonally towards one hip. “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

His cock is so hard, swaying a little with the movement of his legs. He gasps as the sharp spokes trace down the soft crease between his leg and groin, following the inside of his thighs. Praise leaves your lips as you worship your man.

So handsome….Being so good for me….Letting me play with you…I want to worship you the way you do me.

The moment the timer goes off you don’t waste any time, forcing his dick down your throat until you gag. You hold there, breathing through your nose.

“Oh fuck, that’s gonna -“ his voice is thick with need. “Fuck fuck fuck. Please, goddess. I’m. Oh please. I’m gonna….”

You pull off him quickly and he cries out in protest. “No. No. Hnnng. No,” you’ve never heard him whine like this and you swear the power you’re currently holding over him could make you come right now.

“What do you say, baby?”

A thin sheen of sweat starts to break out across his body. “T-thank you. My, fuck, my goddess.”

The timer goes off again, “One more time of each, then we’ll move on to something else.”

You go all out this time. Short rolls of the wheel, using lots of pressure, along the most sensitive spots. Bottom of his foot, the inside of his thigh, the thick pubic hair at the base of his cock, his inner bicep. Each roll sends sharp jolts through his body, and he moans, groans or gasps with each one. His cock twitches as the pain settles into warm, sparkling pleasure.

By the time the minute is almost over Joel’s face is furrowed with a mix of pleasure, pain and anticipation. His curls have grown out a little and one sticks to his forehead.

The timer beeps and you repeat your previous actions. Forcing his thick, hard cock down your throat, saliva pooling in your cheeks and landing on this pelvis as you fight from gagging.

“Goddess. Oh fuck. Please let me!”

You start to bob up and down his slick cock, sliding him in and out of your mouth from base to tip, a hand coming to fondle and massage his heavy balls. He lets out a satisfied moan as you slow your mouth, swirling and twirling your tongue along his shaft and head.

“You taste so good, baby boy,” you moan before slowly sliding him all the way to the back of your throat. You moan as he hits the back, and he tenses up and squirms.

“No. I’m gonna cum. Please.”

You release him with a pop and watch his dick turn an angry shade of red. It matches the blush that’s creeping his neck from his chest.

“Fuck you,” he growls and pulls at the restraints.

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re pathetic. Swearing and crying after only a few minutes. Roll over.”

“No. No. I’m sorry.”

You grab a fist full of hair and get within a hair from his face. “I said to roll over. Speaking to me like that warrants a punishment.”

He whimpers at the pain in his scalp, mouth open and reaching for yours. Hoping he can break you down with his soft velvety lips. You release his hair and give him a stern look, a look he’s never seen you give and hopes he’s never on the receiving end of again and rolls over.

“On your knees and spread your legs,” you bark as you grab your paddle again. He looks so good with his round little ass in the air, legs spread so you can see his stiff cock and heavy balls. You can’t help yourself, reaching between his legs to massage his balls. His back arches, pushing his ass towards you, and you bite down on one of his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry,” he moans and mumbles into the pillows.

“Good boy,” you coo, trailing your fingernails along his balls in light, languid movements. Goosebumps break out across his body when you begin running the smooth part of the paddle along the back of his strong thighs and over his tooth indented ass cheek.

You climb in between his legs, keeping yourself far enough away that he can feel your heat but all that’s touching him is the soft leather of your baby pink paddle.

“You don’t like this very much do you, Joel?”

He shakes his head and moans a ‘mm-mmm’ into the pillows.

“Tell me what you want,” you say, laying a small smack across his ass.

“I want to touch you, goddess.” He says through a shaky voice.

You strike his ass harder this time. The thwack filled the room along with his chorus of whines.

“You can do better than that. You and your filthy mouth. Tell me,” You hit him again a bit more softly and then rub the word ‘good boy’ that’s already forming with your hand. “What do you want?”

“I w-want,” he flinches as you remove your hand and then melts as you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke slowly up and down, “thank you…I want to lay you down. Remove that sexy lingerie slowly, oh fuck, that feels good, I want to kiss your body. Taste your skin. Play with your nipples.”

You pick up the pace of your hand and his legs start to shake underneath him. “Keep talking, baby.”

“Please don’t stop. Fuck. Yes. I-I wanna taste your beautiful pink pussy. Feel the soft folds with my tongue.”

The paddle meets his cheek again as you stroke him and he lets out a high pitched whine that neither of you knew he was capable of before he says. “Shit. Again. Please. Do that again.”

You’re in charge here, but you do as he asks. Two quick, hard snaps of the paddle before you drop your body to lick along the bottom of his cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he says in a quick and scared tone. You pull away as his cock gets redder, right on the edge. It almost looks painful. But all the times he’s made you cry from his edging, it only feels fair. “Oh god. Please.”

You move up the bed, reaching cuffs that are binding his wrists to the bed frame. Undoing the restraints you say, “I’m trusting you to stay submissive with these off, ok?”

“I’ll do anything,” he says in a weak voice.

“Lay on your back,” you whisper after undoing him. When you see his face, he looks completely wrecked and frustrated. Tears line his eyes, his breathing is ragged and quick. You smirk at him, “What else do you want to do?”

“I want to eat you until you gush all over my face,” you drop your bra to the ground and you can see him almost pushing himself into the mattress to stop from grabbing you. “And, fill you with my fingers. See you break out in sweat as you come over and over again.”

You slide your panties down your legs, you’re so wet that Joel can see them soaked through in the middle. “Fuck, goddess. You’re so wet.”

“Do you want to taste it?” You ask, dragging a finger through your slit and holding it up to him.

He fists the sheet, “Yes. Please.”

You slip your finger between your lips to suck off your arousal. Your eyes flutter closed and you moan at your flavour. Joel groans as you straddle his chest backwards, slipping your legs under his arms, sliding back so he has a view of your needy, glistening pussy.

You sit up slightly and look over your shoulder at his face. He licks his lips, swallowing hard, practically salivating over the sight of you. “What will you give me if I reward you with my pussy?”

“Anything, baby. Please. I need to taste you. Feel you. Please.” You’ve never heard him beg like this before, the desperation and want in his voice causes the walls of your pussy to clench around nothing. It’s an oddly powerful feeling of being wanted so badly that he’s almost brought to tears.

“Prove to me that you can be a good boy,” you say, voice steady and commanding. “Keep your hands to yourself, and maybe I’ll reward you.”

His brow furrows in, frustration with a hint of admiration crossing his face before you turn back, taking his hard cock in your hand and stroking gently from the base to the tip. Joel’s hands fist the sheets to stop himself from touching you, your pussy rests on his hard chest, ass in the air as you tease him.

“Goddess,” he whimpers. “Fuck. Please.”

“Be good,” you tut, your tongue teasing the swollen red head lightly.

“Please!” He huffs, slamming his eyes shut and trying to slow his breathing.

This is torture. He somehow hates and loves this. He hates that he’s being denied the orgasm that’s teetering on the edge. Hates that he’s broken out in a sheen of sweat. Hates that it feels so good that it hurts. But fuck does he love seeing how confident and proud you look. And he loves that he can see how wet the control is making you.

He’s lost in his thoughts for a moment, fighting the urge to grab you, flip you under him and spank you for teasing him; which he very easily could do. Instead, he takes a few breaths as you suck on the lip of his dick like a lolly pop. He groans, chest vibrating against your pussy and you instinctively start grinding his chest.

Joel’s eyes pop open to watch you grind his sternum. You swirl your tongue around the head of cock a few times and everything becomes too much for him. You surround him with yourself and your sex. All he can see is your tight asshole and shiny wet pussy. All he can feel is your soft skin along his abdomen and your warm wet tongue teasing him. All he can hear is your tiny little moans and gasps of pleasure and the occasional squelching of your mouth along his dick.

“Baby, fuuuuck. I’m -“ Before he can come you remove your hand and lips from his cock. It twitches as a little bit of come leaks from the top. “Goddess. Please. Please!”

You ignore his cries, grinding harder into his chest. “Mmmm, Joel. You feel so good.”

“Please. I can’t, I need it. Please,” he continues his weak begging.

You glance over your shoulder, seeing him almost on the edge of tears. He’s so frustrated, cheeks turning pink, more sweat forming along his forehead.

“Spit,” you say darkly, raising one eyebrow.

“W-what?” He sputters, eyes locking with yours.

“Spit on my pussy, get it nice and wet so I can come on your chest.” Joel’s eyes dart to your pussy and then back to you before he smiles at you.

“You have no idea how fucking hot you are right now,” he squeezes his cheeks together, gathering saliva. “You sure about this, Little Dove?”

The hand resting on the inside of his tight swats him hard and he lets out a deep painful groan. “Don’t fucking call me that. Spit, Miller.”

You watch as his head lifts from the bed, inching as close as he can to your pussy. You raise slightly as he spits, the warm saliva hitting your folds and his chest. You waste no time, spreading yourself open with your fingers and sitting back down on Joel’s chest. You don’t touch his cock as you ride him.

“Talk to me,” you moan, alternating your hips from a forward and backward rocking motion into little circles.

“You look so beautiful, goddess,” he says deeply, chest rumbling with every word. “So sexy as you use me. Take what you want. What you need. So fuckin proud of you, baby girl.”

A fresh slick of arousal coats his chest, you’re so close. You drop your head to rest on the crevice of his thigh. “Don’t stop,” you moan, slowing your hips but pushing down harder.

“You like when I talk? Can you feel it vibrating on your perfect little clit. You’re so wet, so beautiful,” you feel his spit again and you whine out. Pain pulses through Joel’s fingers with how tightly he’s gripping the bed sheets. Fighting against every urge and instinct to grab you and touch you. “Fuck, goddess. I want you. You are so perfect. So beautiful. So good.”

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, burying your face against his pelvis.

“Show me, goddess. Show me what I do to you,” he says roughly. He could come just from watching you as the movement of your hips starts to falter. He swears he stops breathing as his eyes focus on your cunt fluttering and clenching in front of him. The soft, baby pink folds quiver as your slick leaks from the tight hole he loves so much. You cry out, a chain of swears, moans and his name leaving your lips. His cock is aching for attention, saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought of tasting you, licking up your honey and feasting on his favourite meal. He’s made you cum countless times, felt your pussy strangle his fingers and milk his cock, but he’s never watched it from this angle, it’s intoxicating, euphoric, a whole new feeling of nirvana that he didn't know existed. “Fuuuuck, so gorgeous, baby.”

You slump down onto Joel. Weak and satisfied, as you catch your breath and try to stop your legs from trembling.

After a few minutes of silence, Joel’s soft whispering voice fills the air, “Goddess? Please let me touch you now so I can care for you.”

You open your eyes, his cock is still hard and an angry shade of red in front of you. “You were so good for me, baby boy,” you say softly, placing light and lingering kisses along the top of his thigh and hip bone.

“Let me keep being good. Let me care for you. Make love to you. Worship your body from head to toe. Please, goddess.”

“Don’t you dare move,” you say roughly. All the things he’s saying sound wonderful, and you’ll let him do all those things eventually, but you never get to hear him beg like this and you’re not going to give in so quickly. He said to do your worst after all.

You adjust yourself to be sitting up slightly and cup his heavy balls in one hand. He hisses at the contact, you know exactly how it feels to not be able to see what the next move is and you’re sure Joel’s eyes are slammed shut, trying to predict, but not being able to anticipate your next move.

You let a trail of warm saliva fall from your mouth, letting it land on the tip of cock. “Please,” he whines behind you.

“Shhh, you’re ok,” you coo, lowering your face to his dick, your tongue trailing a light circle around the sensitive ridge of the head. You revel in the pathetic little gasps he makes as you swirl around him again and again.

“Baby boy,” you wrap your free hand around the base of his cock, “I’m going to suck your perfect dick now, but you need to tell me when you’re about to come. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

“Fuck - Jesus, goddess. I don’t know if I can do this,” he huffs.

You release his balls and slap the inside of his thigh again. He hisses as the red hot pain settles on the meat of his muscular thigh. “You will. Or I’ll get the paddle again.”

The power has definitely gone to your head. You love it when Joel is commanding and dominating, but it’s intoxicating having him all supple and yours to do whatever you want with.

“Sorry, goddess. Sorry,” his thick cock leaps as you grab his balls again. Without warning you take him all the way in your mouth, the tip pressing against the back of your throat. You relax your jaw and throat, breathing through your nose and just hold there, warming him with just your mouth.

He turns into an absolutely writhing, whining mess within seconds. “I need to touch you. Please. Fuckfuckfuck that’s so good. Please. Let me touch you.”

You choke out an ‘uh uh’, and the vibrations of your throat have him tense up beneath you. “Oh god. Goddess. Fuuuuck. Please move. Please suck me.”

You slurp up his dick and release the tip with a lewd, wet pop. “Joel Miller,” you say mockingly, “I never would have taken you for such a whiner when the tables are turned.”

“Just let me touch you and then I’ll be quiet. Please.”

You peek over your shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised teasingly, “I could just gag you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he audibly swallows. “No, no, please. I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

You spin back to face his cock and say, “That’s my good boy,” before sliding him to the back of your throat again.

A mixture of your drool and his pre come starts to gather on the coarse hairs along the base of him, you use the wetness to lubricate his balls as you fondle and cradle them. His breathing is quick and uneven, you can tell he’s fighting his body’s natural urge to come and his new found need to whine.

You pull off of him with a gag and a cough, you play it up a little since you know how much he likes to hear you gag when he’s in charge. He stays true to his word and he’s quiet, just a small moan leaving his throat before you start to suckle on the tip of his swollen cock. You lap up the salty pre cum, swallowing him down, he really is your favourite taste.

“Mmm, taste so good baby boy,” you hum between licks. As Joel relaxes underneath you you have a very devious idea. You keep up the languid strokes of your tongue over his cock, waiting for him to tell you he’s going to come so you can stop. You suck him further into your mouth and almost immediately as your lips close around him he jerks.

“Fuck. I’m gonna come. I’m sorry,” you pull back quickly and he grunts.

“Not yet baby,” you whisper as you climb off him. Spinning to face him and sitting on your heels you say, “Remember that tiny vibrating plug we used to use when we first started experimenting with anal? Do you think you could take that?”

Joel’s eyes squint as if to test if you’re joking or not. When your facial expression doesn’t falter he says, “Oh, you’re serious?”

“You can say no, Joel.” You mumble.

“No. Well yes. I mean, I’m not saying no,” he stays lying about how you’ve told him, eyes searching yours. “Let me see it again.”

You jump excitedly off the bed and pull the small pink plug out from the bedside table, along with the cleaning wipes and the lube. You turn back to see your perfect man led on his back, his cock still stiff as nails and glistening with your saliva. You fight that soft, submissive side of yourself that feels bad for leaving him like that.

“Lemme see it, gorgeous girl,” he says, looking over at you with hooded eyes like he’s drunk off your mouth. You hold it up for him, it’s not much bigger than his thumb. “Ok, goddess. For you, I’ll do it. Just….use lots of lube.”

You smile at him and laugh softly, “Of course, baby boy. I only want to make you feel good. So here’s the plan. Come stand here and bend over the bed. I’ll slowly work this in, once it’s in I’m going to turn it on low. Then you’ll sit, leaning against the headboard and I’ll ride that big gorgeous cock until we both cum. Deal?”

Joel has never heard you be so dominant and direct with what you want. It’s usually him bossing you around, he’s overcome with pride listening to his sweet Little Dove demand something just for her once. “I love you so much, baby.” He coos as he slips off the bed and bends over in front of you.

You wipe the toy clean then flick the cap of the lube open, the clicking of the plastic cap that changed your life is about to change Joel’s. The cool slippery liquid drizzles down his ass, he jolts at the coolness, goosebumps breaking out over his back and firm cheeks. “Sorry, baby,” you whisper, gathering the lube on your fingers and swirling it around his asshole. You feel it quiver at your touch and Joel takes a steadying breath.

“Nice and slow,” you soothe, teasing him with more pressure. Joel's broad body relaxes into the mattress. “Good boy. Just relax. Play with yourself for me. I’m going to switch to the plug now, just to get it nice and slippery.”

Joel snakes his hand between his body and the mattress, as he wraps his fist around his cock you circle the toy along his slippery, puckered hole. You watch it quiver and relax under your touch so you apply a bit more pressure the tip of it disappears inside of him. A euphoric moan tumbles past Joel’s lips.

“Oh god goddess, more, please.” He mumbles.

“Ok, baby,” you whisper, your free hand lightly tracing up and down his spine. You push the plug in more, Joel’s body jolts and he cries out. “Pleasure or pain, Joel?”

His breathing shakes as he moans, “Pleasure. Oh fuck. It’s so good, baby. Fuuuuck.”

One person shouldn’t hold this much power over a man who could probably kill someone with his bare hands if provoked. You never in a thousand years thought would go for this, and never in a million years thought he would love it this much.

“More, more,” he hiccups into the sheets.

You push the toy deeper, “Good boy. Almost all the way in.” Your hand caresses over the smooth globe of his ass. “Doin’ so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

With a final little push of your thumb, the toy slips all the way in. “Good job,” you praise, kissing at his lower back. His body goes completely slack below you. “How are you feeling?”

Joel moans into the mattress. “Good. It’s so much pressure. But good pressure. Fuck, I should have let you be in charge sooner.”

You stand, then drag your nails up the back of his thighs and up and over his ass as you say. “That’s my sweet baby boy, now get your perfect little ass back on the bed so I can fuck you.”

He gingerly crawls up onto the bed, you watch him carefully, a thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest. You prop some pillows against the headboard. He locks eyes with you as he sits, whimpering at the pressure of his body weight on the plug.

You grab the small remote in your hand and then straddle Joel’s wide thighs, your chest pressed against his. His cock is so hard between your bodies, the vein that travels underneath it is pulsing. You wrap your dainty hand around the base.

“Spit, Joel,” you command.

He doesn’t hesitate, spitting down the tip of his cock, it beads and rolls down the sides, and you work your hand up and down him slowly, spreading the wetness. “Again, baby.”

He obeys, his breathing ragged and uneven as you spread the saliva again. “Now that your perfect cock is all sloppy I’m going to bury you inside of me. Then I’m going to push this little button,” you hold the remote out in front of him, “And you’re not gonna cum until I say. Right?”

“Yes, oh god, y-yes goddess,” his head falls back to rest on the headboard, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

You lift, using your hand to guide him to your entrance. You slowly sink onto his length, gasping at the familiar sting of the stretch as he fills you. Joel lets out a content and whispered, “fuuuuuuck.”

“Feels s’good when you’re inside me,” you mumble into his neck. “I’m gonna turn it on now, Joel. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I’m ready,” he wraps his arms around you tightly, you’re not sure if it’s fueled by pleasure or the anticipation of what’s to come, but when you push the tiny button he squeezes tighter, his entire body quivering underneath you. “Oh god. Baby, I c-can’t, fuck.”

You pull back to look at his face. “Do you need me to stop?” Your voice is soft and full of concern.

“No, god no. I can’t last. I, fuck, please start moving. Please.” He buries his face in your neck as he whimpers, fully confirming your earlier thoughts. No one should have this much power in their hands. “Please, goddess.”

You start rocking your hips back and forth, he’s so fucking sexy like this and even though you’ve already cum once, you’re painfully turned on seeing your man turn into a puddle at your touches. “That’s it, big boy. Just hold on a little bit longer for me. Fuck, I’m so close.”

His dull fingernails dig into your sides as he tries to hold off. Every movement you make pulls a groan from him. “Call me a good girl, please Joel. I’m gonna cum.”

His voice is thick and syrupy as he says, “Please, my goddess. Cum for me. Be my good girl. Let me feel you milk me.”

“Hnnnng - yes!” You cry out as heat spreads through every nerve ending of your body. “Cum with me.”

Joel’s hands guide your hips, helping you fuck into him harder. His cock grows larger inside you. “Kiss me,” he whines.

You press your lips to him as the heat snaps and your orgasms wash over you. You are a mess of tongue and teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, painting your walls with warm ropes of cum. You can feel it filling you, feel the walls of your pussy clenching hard around him. Everything in the room except Joel fades away. You and Joel, always.

Your orgasm crests and you peel away from Joel’s lips to watch him. He’s completely blissed out. Eyes hooded and glazed over, sweaty glistening across his whole body. As you come down you slow your hips, his hands take over, rocking you back and forth.

“Good boy,” you hum. “Just take what you need.” You can feel his cum leaking out from you, landing in the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

“I’m - I think I’m gonna,” his hands grip you so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have the same bruises you always seem to get when you and Joel fuck.

You card your hands through his hair, pushing back his sweaty curls. “I’m here, baby. Just relax. Let it happen. You’re ok.”

His head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as he cums again with a deep, satisfied groan.

“Turn it off. Allan key. Shit, baby.”

You quickly shut the vibrating plug off and wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, pulling him in closely. You shush him softly as he tries to catch his breath, his softening cock still buried inside of you.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask after a few silent moments.

His breathing begins to steady. “Kiss me.”

You pull back and press your lips to his. He deepens the kiss, slow languid strokes of his tongue against yours. You feel content to just sit here straddling Joel, lazily making out forever. You let him take the lead, giving him whatever he needs after an intense night. It feels like you’ve been kissing for hours when Joel pulls back.

“Thank you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“Anything for you, my love,” you smile at him. “Do you need help getting that out?”

His chocolate brown eyes wash over you. “No, maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. What do I do?”

You can’t help but giggle at his slight panic. “Just kinda push into it and pull a little bit. That’s all I do. But I’ll have to get off of you first.”

His nose drags against yours, “Not yet.”

Joel kisses your jaw and then your shoulder before curling into your neck again. You trail your fingers along his upper back, lazy uneven patterns and swirls. He hums contentedly into your skin. “I don’t think I can go back to having sex without this thing,” he admits sheepishly.

“That good?”

“Yes, Little Dove,” murmurs, “You are that good.”

You smile to yourself before he pulls back and you two work in tandem to slide off his soft cock, cum drips from your pussy, landing on him and the bed as you lay on the bed beside him. He stands on shaky legs and goes to the bathroom. You hear a pained grunt and then water running. He comes back with the cleaned toy in one hand, tucking it back in the bedside drawer, and a towel in the other hand that he uses to clean you off.

“I should be the one taking care of you, Joel.”

He laughs quietly, “I can’t help it, Little Dove. You looked so gorgeous tonight. I’m so proud of you for how talkative and dominant you were.”

You flip the sheets open and you both crawl in, his large body wrapping around yours, both of you relaxing into one another at the same time. Breathing syncing into a comfortable pace. These are the moments that you live for. As fun as exploring your kinky side is together, there’s an anchor between you and him that keeps you tied together.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your hairline, kissing you softly.

You press your face deeper into his chest, surrounding yourself with his scent. “I love you, too.”

[teapartyprincess4two]

Y/n and Matt get closer when it's just them 2 in the house, and i was thinking Fluff and Smut like a lot of Smut. Maybe Matt is a virgin but Y/n aint so she teaches him???

End of the World- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x Matt

classification: Zombie Apocalypse AU, smut, fluff, angst/sad (kinda? Idk it’s a mix of everything)

inspiration: request^^

warnings: 18+, MDNI, set in modern day, use of y/n, literal sex, slight cursing, zombies & general apocalypse stuff (death, lnives, guns, killing, blood, hunger, dehydration, etc.), kinda long

summary: No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.

—

If anyone would’ve told you two years ago that you’d be huddled around the hood of a car, staring down at a worn out map, covered in blood, you would’ve called them crazy.

Two years ago your life was convenient. Now? Now life was simple, all you had to do was survive. All the things you wished would disappear; homework, bills, work, none of them mattered anymore. But they were easily replaced with an even greater burden, a zombie apocalypse and the end of the world.

Two years ago you wouldn’t have had even a spec of dirt under your fingernails, yet here you stand covered in blood that isn’t yours, weeks worth of dirt and grime, and sweat dripping down your forehead. Your hair is pulled back into a ponytail, exposing your shoulders to the harsh Texas heat and further working towards dehydrating you.

Two years ago you wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly. Now you wouldn’t think twice before pulling the trigger if it meant you had a chance at survival.

Two years ago you didn’t have to worry about where your next meal was coming from or if your bedroom was secure enough to sleep in. But the world has changed and so have you.

It’s been months since anyone in your group has had a good nights rest or a warm meal. All you’ve done is run from anything that threatens to harm you. Although you’ve all managed to set up a temporary moderately safe camp within the woods, it’s been difficult to stretch resources that are already scarce.

Food, water, clothing. These are all things that you wish you didn’t need. Why? Because leaving camp to retrieve them is dangerous. But, it’s been 2 days since your last run, and canned goods can only last so long, especially when there’s mouths to feed.

Chris uses his knife to point to an unmarked location on the map, “Nick and I will head south. I saw an old water tower in that direction when we passed through, maybe there’s a town nearby.” He uses the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead before returning it back to the map, tracing the blade up a road.

“Matt and Y/n, you two try looking in this area. We haven’t checked there yet and if we’re lucky it hasn’t been completely ransacked. You might find something…” Chris pauses, taking a look at the group of people not far behind. They’re chatting, all of them wearing exhausted expression and filthy clothes. “…something to get the group through the next couple of days. We can’t stay here anymore, place is crawling with infected.”

Chris became the leader of your group easily. He had a great way of talking to people, of showing them that even though the world was ending, the glass was still half full.

“You want us to split up?” Nick whisper shouts, a clear alarm evident in his tone. “Remember what happened last time? We lost a third of the group!” Nick flails his arms in desperation, almost like he’s willing Chris to realize the stupidity of his actions.

Nick was reasonable and smart, but too kind for his own good. If he wanted to, he could’ve become the leader of your group and done just as good of a job as Chris, but Nick was too empathic to take on that responsibility. He felt the needs of the group and often was led more by emotion than by reason or logic.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Chris bites back.

You stand next to Matt, watching the argument unfold. This was typical for Nick and Chris, but it stressed you out every time.

“If we had more people, we wouldn’t have to split up. But we’re low on supplies and can’t wait around for food to magically appear,” Chris says.

“If we hadn’t split up the first time, we’d have more people,” Nick snarks, storming away. Chris groans, running his hand through his hair. This was much more responsibility than he could handle, but as the youngest, strongest members of your group it was up to you all to pull the heaviest weight.

“We’ll be fine. Y/n and I are always careful,” Matt finally chimes in, placing a firm hand on Chris’s shoulder to ease any tension. “Besides, that part of town is pretty deep into the woods. I doubt any infected will be lurking and if they are, Y/n’s good with a gun and I’m fast.”

“I’m fast too,” you chuckle, knowing that Matt is trying to make light of a dark situation.

“True. I just gotta be faster,” he replies, sending you a cheeky wink. You laugh, earning a small round of laughter from Chris and Matt in return.

Chris visibly relaxes, grateful that at least one of his brothers isn’t giving him a hard time. But truth be told, Matt didn’t agree with Chris’s plan, he was just smart enough to keep it to himself. He knew that doubt created fear, and once fear infected you, you were as good as dead.

That’s what Matt was good at, being quiet. It came in handy on runs like this, especially because he was so quick on his feet. It’s your favorite characteristic of his, he’s a good listener, he’s observant, and you know that you’ll be safe as long as Matt is with you.

“Alright. Let’s head out, we’re gonna lose the light,” Chris instructs, jogging in the opposite direction of the camp to begin loading up a few trucks with guns and ammo.

“You two can take the car.”

Matt mulls the idea over. A car would be faster, but definitely much louder. Noise attracts anything looking for its next meal, especially the infected, and with only you to cover him he’s not sure he’s willing to take that risk.

“Nah. We’re walking. The town’s not too far, we’ll make it back by tomorrow morning the latest,” Matt replies, tossing a rifle in your direction. You’re quick to catch it and just as quick to respond, “Are you sure? A car would get us there and back before dinner.”

He understands your concern, but he can’t risk losing you, not after all the losses he’s already suffered. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, the look in his eyes being enough to calm your nerves.

“Whatever you have to do, Matt. Just come back,” Chris says, slamming the trunk shut.

—

Leaves and dry grass crunch under your feet with every step. It’s late summer and the Texas heat has managed to kill everything left alive that wasn’t infected.

You’ve been walking for two hours, only running into a few infected on the way, managing to take them out with nothing but your blade. Matt hates using guns, in fact you’ve only seen him use them on very rare and necessary occasions. You never understood his apprehension, I mean it’s the end of the world for Christ’s sake, but you’ve never questioned him.

“Heads up,” Matt whispers, nodding his head in the direction of a gas station.

You follow his gaze. It seemed like an easy place to loot. Apart from the few rotted corpses that roamed the exterior, only parked cars litter the parking lot, most of them still connected to the gas pumps.

“We’ll go in through the back. There’s got to be dry storage there,” Matt says, crouching and leading you towards the back of the building. You hum in response, readying yourself with your weapon and following closely behind.

Your scent must carry because as soon as you’re within 10 feet of the infected, their attention is drawn to you. Their arms are limp at their sides and their walk is more of a stagger, but it always manages to get your blood pumping.

“Hurry!” Matt whisper shouts, reaching behind him for your hand. Soon he’s pulling you into the building, shutting it securely behind you and bringing his pointer finger up to his lips to instruct you to keep quiet.

“I’ll go left. You go right,” you mouth, beginning to walk the aisles of the store while ensuring to keep your back to the wall. Matt nods, perusing the aisles as best he can while his life is in immediate danger.

Infected bite and claw at the glass windows, snarling as they watch you and Matt like prey. Sometimes you wondered what their life was like before they were bit, but the second one is close enough to harm you, all sympathy leaves and you don’t think twice before unloading the clip.

When you’re sure the building is secure you put your knife away and grab a shopping basket, securing it in the pit of your elbow as you load it with as many supplies as you can. Chips, jerky, candy, canned food, oil, rags, water, any and everything you two can carry is being thrown into these baskets.

“How are gonna get all of this back?” You ask Matt, noticing the even greater pile he’s accumulated. He scratches his head, taking a look around for something that’ll help lighten the load.

From the corner of his eye he spots a few duffel bags. Matt grabs a few and motions for you to begin packing them with as much as possible. “If they get too heavy I’ll carry them.”

“Bet you wish we had a car now,” you chuckle, neatly organizing the duffel bags.

“Not when those things are staring back at me,” Matt says, shuddering as he looks behind his shoulder to see the group of infected that have pooled at the entrance of the building.

—

You’re carrying two duffel bags full of supplies, one weighing on either one of your shoulders. Matt’s holding three, two rest on his shoulders and he’s carrying the other in his hand. He holds the straps so tight that his knuckles have managed to turn white.

The both of you are exhausted from the strength you’re using to carry this supplies back to your camp, from the long trek up-hill, and the energy you exerted to take out at least a dozen infected.

You stumble on a rock, the weight on your shoulders making it difficult for you to fix your footing. “Hey, you okay?” Matt asks, examining you with his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you wheeze, hunching over and supporting yourself with your hands on your knees.

Matt’s tired too, of course he is, but it’s not like you two can set up camp in the middle of nowhere while surrounded by infected. He remembers seeing a few houses further up the road, it’s not a long walk and if you can make it, you’ll be able to rest there until morning.

“C’mon I think I saw a neighborhood, just push through a little longer. We’ll rest there for tonight and pick back up in the morning, okay?”

He waits for you to catch your breath, rubbing your back and comforting you, but never once letting his guard down in case something gets a jump on him.

You take a deep breath, straightening up and adjusting the duffel bag’s straps on your shoulders.

“Okay.”

—

The walk to the neighborhood was much longer than you thought, and you were starting to wonder if you were lost.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

Matt looks at you from behind his shoulder, subtly rolling his eyes before averting his gaze forward again. “You wanna lead the way, princess?”

The nickname makes you chuckle, mostly because you knew Matt used it when his mood was starting to sour and that only ever happened when he was hungry or tired. By the looks of it, he was starting to become both.

A small town comes into view just as you’re about to reply. It looks like you’ve stumbled across the Main Street, and as packed as it is with abandoned businesses and stores, a residential home is nowhere to be seen. “Didn’t I tell you I saw a town,” Matt snarks, a hint of sass laced in his tone.

You hum. “No. You said you saw a neighborhood. There isn’t a house anywhere to be seen. We might as well season ourselves for the damn infected to eat.”

A twig snaps in the distance. Your voices, although relatively quiet, have already worked towards alerting the undead of your presence.

“Shut up,” Matt grits, pulling you close to his body. You know better than to argue, instead pressing your back against his and unsheathing your knife.

Snarling and growling echoes through the town, bouncing off the buildings and making it difficult for you to pinpoint exactly what direction they’re coming from. That doesn’t stop Matt though, instead he uses the hand that isn’t holding a knife to grab your arm.

“Stay close,” he mouths, so inaudible that you almost don’t catch it. You nod your head, taking a fleeting look at your surroundings before following Matt through a back alley between a cafe and a gym (or what used to be a cafe and a gym).

The alley is a dead end, fenced off at the end with nothing but hungry zombies reaching through the metal rods in attempt to grab you. The old you would’ve screamed and cried for help, but you’ve learned to suppress your fear in order to survive.

You take a firm hold of your knife, stabbing it into the head of as many infected as you can. Quiet grunts emit from you and Matt as you clear the path, watching undead body after body hit the ground. For a second you feel sad, but only for a second. You don’t have time for trivial things such as emotions anymore, especially not when a trail of flesh eating monsters follows closely behind.

“Through here. C’mon,” Matt ushers, opening a door that leads into a gym. Although it’s safer than being stranded outside, the brick walls can only protect you for so long. You do a quick sweep of the room, looking for anything useful while also ensuring there aren’t any hidden surprises.

Once you’re sure it’s safe, you motion for Matt to follow you with a head tilt. He locks the door behind him, barricading it with an old elliptical before following you into the next room.

You enter a changing room, lined with showers and lockers that were sure to have at least one fresh pair of clothes. You set the heavy bags you’ve been carrying down, sighing with relief as you stretch your shoulders. Matt does the same, joining you in rummaging through the lockers for a new, clean shirt.

A lot of the clothes is tucked away in backpacks, most of it being unflattering male clothing, but you weren’t big on fashion nowadays. “Here. Found this for you,” Matt says, tossing a white tank top your way. You hold it up in the light, “Cute. Thanks.”

You’re about to change your shirt, without any real warning for Matt, so he quickly looks away and fixes his gaze on the shower heads and tiled walls. His hands fiddled with an unopened bar of soap he found in one of the lockers. Matt doesn’t know why he grabbed it, it’s not like he had access to running water, but a man could dream.

“I wonder if the showers work,” he thinks out loud.

You stand behind him, wearing only your bra and underwear as you wonder the same thing. God knows you could both use a shower right now. “Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head in wonder.

“Only one way to find out,” you shrug, pushing past Matt and sauntering over to the knob. You twist it quickly, patiently waiting for even a single drop of water.

Nothing, just groaning pipes and a slap in the face for naivety.

“Guess they don’t,” you say, standing under the shower head and looking at Matt with a sad smile. He chuckles, and just as he’s about to give up too, hot water spurts out abruptly, hitting the back of your head and running down your spine.

“Holy shit that’s hot!” You gasp. In all the excitement, Matt forgets how inappropriate it would be to join you in the shower under regular circumstances, and throws his clothes off. You’ve somehow already managed to remove your remaining clothing and have started scrubbing at your skin with your bare hands, letting the water run down your face.

“Matt! Hurry before it runs out!” You say, waving your hand behind you blindly. He doesn’t skip a beat, joining you under the shower head and letting it relax his sore, aching muscles. The water draws an audible groan from his lips, bringing you back to reality. You were naked and taking a shower with Matt, someone who was a stranger to you before the end of the world.

Suddenly, he remembers the bar of soap still in his hands and he accidentally takes in your naked figure as he opens it. His dick immediately rises, a clear indicator that he’s enjoying the view.

“Turn around,” he instructs, running the soap under the water and lathering his hands up. You do as your told, immediately feeling his fingers tangle themselves in your hair as he massages your scalp. It wasn’t necessarily an in depth hair wash routine, but it would suffice for now.

Soon, you’re turning around and rinsing the soap from your hair before reaching for the bar and instructing Matt to do the same.

“Here lemme get you now.” You shuffle behind him, tip toeing to reach better. Although it was odd and unexpected, you were glad to be sharing this moment with Matt.

The rest of the shower is silent as you and Matt bask in the warm water that runs down your bruised and battered bodies. You try keeping your limbs to yourselves, save for the brief moments Matt’s erect member brushes against your thigh or butt, but it’s hard when there’s only one shower head. You want to say something, mostly because you’ve had a crush on Matt from the moment you met him and his group, but you don’t. This isn’t about pleasure, not in this world at least. It’s about survival and the second you forget that, you get hurt.

“Haven’t felt that clean in years,” Matt chuckles, shoving a shirt over his head. The shower seems to have brought his spirits up, providing both of you with a new surge of energy. Little things like running water meant so much more now, especially when you’re trudging through highly forested areas and fighting for you life on the daily.

As you’re about to reply, a loud bang echoes through the locker room, followed by the sound of shuffling in your direction. You’re putting your pants on, buckling them quickly as you try to keep quiet. Your eyes are wide in fear and anticipation, watching Matt for a signal on what to do next.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing the duffel bags from before and darting his eyes towards the exit. Your gun, which you hadn’t used at all today, rests in your hand. Matt holds his as well. He’s on guard, raising the weapon close to his face as he inspects the area.

You follow behind him trying to keep as quiet as possible, fully expecting him to shoot whatever lurks behind the wall. But, as you near the exit, you see it.

Tense shoulders relax, lowering your weapon and sheathing it back into your belt. A squirrel sits on the cement floor, grooming itself and chittering away. You want to approach it, maybe even pet it, but Matt stops you with a hand to your chest.

Unlike you, he’d inspected the entirety of the situation and didn’t let himself become distracted by the first cute animal that crossed his path. After recognizing that it was a squirrel, he wondered what could’ve lead it into the building in the first place, causing him to check the window it entered through. A reanimated corpse stood right outside the window, dragging its feet as it paced back and forth in search of the fluffy animal.

“Let’s go. We’re done here,” Matt ordered, pulling you back towards the exit. And just like that, you were off to find somewhere to sleep, leaving the fluffy animal to fend for itself.

“Bye little guy.”

—

“Forgot how quiet and boring the world is,” you huff, slumping down onto the worn out mattress. Whatever energy the shower provided you was now long gone. You and Matt walked for another hour before finding the initial neighborhood you were searching for. And, after that, you spent another hour finding the perfect house and clearing all its rooms.

“Quiet’s nice,” Matt replies with a soft groan, joining you on the mattress. It sinks with his weight, the coils creaking as he becomes comfortable.

“You’re just saying that cause you want me to shut up so you can fall asleep.” You kick your shoes off and unbuckle your belt, letting it fall to floor with a soft thud. A smile tugs at Matt’s lips. “Right now yes. But in general, quiet’s good. Means we’re safe,” he replies, toeing his own shoes off.

Matt shuts his eyes, fluffing the pillow under his head and willing himself to finally get a full nights rest. This house is safe. He secured all the rooms, barricaded the doors, and his weapon is on standby. He can finally rest and relax. But, of course, your mind begins to wander and when your mind wanders, your words follow. “Guess you’re right… But quiet also means you’re not learning anything about the people you care about.”

A deep breath causes Matt’s chest to rise and fall. He doesn’t understand why you’re trying to be all philosophical at the end of the world. Nonetheless, he responds, “I know you, Y/n. I know you’re strong, I know you’re a kind person, and I know you have my back. I also know you’re annoying, but I trust you and I learned all that from watching. Sometimes you just have to watch people. In quiet. Can we sleep now?” He turns onto his side facing away from you in hopes that you’ll drop the topic and fall asleep.

You stare at his back. “Those are all things you learned about me now. I was nothing like this back then.”

Matt takes another deep breath. It’s obvious you’re in the mood to talk, maybe because you finally feel safe enough to keep your voice anything above a whisper, so he decides just to give in and turn your monologue into actual dialogue.

“Back then?” He asks. Matt shuffles on the mattress, now staring at the ceiling as your eyes remain on him. “Yeah, before everything went to shit. Before the end of the stupid fucking world when the little things used to matter. You know, like first kisses and picking the perfect outfit for a date with a cute guy.”

Matt picks at his fingernails, listening to every word that escapes your lips. When you put it that way, he really didn’t know anything about you. “Okay, so tell me about yourself then. Pretend like we’re not in a strangers house, in a strangers room, on a strangers bed, and tell me all about Y/n… Before the ‘end of the stupid fucking world.’”

You chuckle, preparing yourself for the vulnerability you’re about to put on full display, but now that he’s put you on the spot it’s much harder than you thought.

“Okay so… you already know my name. Hmm. My favorite color is pink?”

Matt scoffs. “That’s the real you? C’mon, you can’t go on this whole tangent about how you were different before and then say THAT.”

“Fine fine.” You think for a second. “I was a waitress at a hotel bar. Mixing drinks was easy, the customers were nice, my coworkers made the job tolerable. Mostly only worked weekends because I was at school during the week… I went to UCLA. Go Bruins!,” you let out a breathy laugh, “My siblings were going to visit me that weekend, the weekend it all happened. They had planned the trip for a long time and finally were gonna make the drive.”

Your mind goes to a dark place, the only thing anchoring you being the hand that Matt places on yours. You clear your throat before continuing, “I had a small off campus apartment. Cleared the living room out and everything for them. Even deep cleaned.” Matt squeezes your hand.

“College was fun while it lasted. My parents worked really hard to send me off. They threw me a going away party and everything, even dressed up my dog as the school mascot,” a small pause as you recollect your thoughts, “I had a puppy named Pig. Well he wasn’t a puppy, more like an old fart, but the name suited him. Named him after my favorite animal and because he had the pinkest nose when he first adopted him.”

You feel yourself becoming increasingly sad as you reminisce on what once was. “You know what? Maybe quiet is nice,” you laugh solemnly, wiping the tears that are rolling down your face.

Matt offers you a warm smile, thinking of something, anything, to get you to smile again. But he can’t help it, he’s curious, and since you’re already on the topic he wants to pry further into your personal life. “What were you going to school for?”

“Engineering. I’m shit with numbers, but I was pretty undecided so my parents just chose for me. Brandon would help me a lot. He was really smart… really sweet… But enough about me, tell me about you. Who was Matt before all this?”

Matt ignores your question, instead posing one of his own. “Who’s Brandon? Was he your boyfriend?” He cringes slightly, both at his boldness and at his lack of awareness of your vulernable, emotional state, but his curiosity keeps getting the best of him.

You snort. “Brandon? God no. He was my best friend, sure, but I was definitely not his type. Plus, I never had time for anything serious. I made time for the fun stuff, but never the commitment.” Matt couldn’t hide the relief on his face even he tried. A relationship status meant nothing during a zombie apocalypse, yet he found himself relieved to know that your heart didn’t belong to another.

“I’m sure you had girls swarming you,” you continue jokingly, poking Matt’s sides with a teasing edge. He makes a noise, something between a groan and chuckle as he runs his hands down his face.

“I take that as a yes?”

He hums, remembering the short lived internet fame he shared with his triplet brothers before shit hit the fan. “Some would say that. If you consider subscribers and followers as swarming girls.”

You visibly cringe, “Oh God. Were you one of those thirst trappers? Bet you went to influencer parties and vlogged your morning routine.” Matt laughs loudly, a genuine laugh, one of the few you’ve heard from him since you met.

“Rent was due, okay?” He replies between laughter. Soon you’re both laughing, bodies clumsily bumping as you clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Your bodies are impossibly close, closer than they should be on a queen sized mattress, and you only notice it once your laughter dies down.

Your eyes have locked with his and your noses even manage to graze. Neither of you make an effort to look away or even to apologize for invading the other’s space. Instead, you do the unthinkable, the one thing you didn’t allow yourself to even think about doing even when he was naked in front of you earlier. You kiss him. You lean forward and close the gap, moulding your lips onto his.

Matt doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss. His hands find a comfortable resting place on your upper thigh and lower back, using the little energy left in his body to pull you closer. One of your hands lays on his chest while the other gently weaves its way through his hair.

The kiss is sweet and innocent, and it could’ve been over by now, but because you’re both so touch starved you separate for air and dive right back in. You moan against his lips, caressing the side of his face your thumb before moving so you’re cradling his waist. Subconsciously, as if on instinct, you grind down onto him, wanting to feel and explore him further.

Matt wants to go further, and he knows you know it too, especially with the display he put on earlier in the shower, but he’s a virgin who’s afraid to disappoint. So, he pulls away from the kiss and holds your hips in place with strong hands.

“I— Give me a second,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut and gulping so hard his adam’s apple bobs up and down. Matt’s mind is racing, every possible outcome for this situation playing through his mind.

You sense his apprehension, plus it’s written all over his face. You never want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable. So, you do the only thing you can think to do. Quickly, you shuffle off of him and off the bed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought— today in the shower— I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch.”

You begin to gather your things, leaving Matt dumbstruck as he stares between you and his raging erection. If he didn’t speak up now, you were going to get the wrong idea and he’d miss his chance at a shot with you. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

“Wait.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, gently pulling you back down onto the mattress.

Matt prepares himself for the vulnerability he’s about to display. He’s nervous, embarrassed, scared, and to top it off you’re the hottest girl he’s ever seen. And it’s not just because you’re the only one left either.

“I’m a virgin.”

Your eyes blow open in shock. “But earlier you said about the? I just thought?” He laughs at your inability to form a coherent sentence, but he gets the gist.

“It was hard to trust people when I was famous, especially girls. I never knew if they truly liked me or just wanted to have my name associated with them for the clout. But it’s different now, I know I can trust you. We took a shower together without making it weird after scavenging through old worn out clothes to find something slightly newer than what we had. You’re covered in the blood of monsters we killed to keep each other safe. You’re here with me when I have nothing permanent or safe to offer.” Matt pulls you back onto his lap, sitting up against the bed frame so your torsos are parallel.

“I should’ve said this a long time ago, but it’s hard to find the time when you’re fighting for your life on the daily… I care about you, Y/n. A lot. I’m not sure what to call it yet, but I care about you and I trust you. I trust you enough to do this.” You’re touched by his words, feeling their effect on your heartstrings and your throbbing core.

“I trust you too, Matt. So much more than you’ll ever know.” In that moment those words felt more real than an ‘i love you’ ever could. Matt leans forwards and kisses you, holding you by the neck. This kiss is different than the one from before, it’s needier and laced with lust.

His hands travel towards your tank top, tugging until he successfully untucks the fabric. You pull away from the kiss and lift your arms, allowing Matt to remove your shirt in one swift motion. The smile on his face as you slowly begin roaming your hands all over his body is genuine, filled with admiration, love and lust.

Your fingers beginning slipping his flannel over his shoulders, your mouth falling down to his broad shoulders to pepper kisses on the skin there. Soon, you’re both removing the rest of your clothes and Matt’s excitement has him flipping you over on the old, worn mattress. He gawks at the sight beneath him. You lay there completely exposed with only the soft moonlight that trickles in through the blinds to illuminate your body. Matt takes it all in, relishing in your beauty like it’s the last time, because in this world it very well might be.

A gentle hand trails from his stomach down to his penis, tracing the outside of his cock and watching intently at the way Matt’s eyes screw shut in concentration. It’s been so long since he’s touched himself and the sight of you alone is enough for him to combust, but he pulls himself together. You trace your thumb over the slit, coating his member with the natural lubrication that’s already spilling out before dragging his cock along your folds. Matt’s breath hitches at the new sensation, you already feel so warm and soft, he doesn’t know how he’s meant to last even one second once he’s actually inside you.

“We can stop if you want to.” Matt gulps, shaking his head feverishly. He doesn’t want this to stop, he’d never want this to stop, even if it hasn’t even really started yet. “No,” his voice is choked, “don’t stop.”

Your lip is caught between your teeth as you continue to guide the tip to your entrance, finally unwrapping your fingers from around him and instead wrapping your legs around his waist. Finally, Matt moves, sinking his cock into you slowly until he’s completely bottomed out. The initial feeling is euphoric, so euphoric in fact that his arms wobble as he tried to keep himself from collapsing on you. You love seeing him like this. A strong man who’d do anything to protect you, so weak and vulnerable from your touch.

His head finds the place where your neck and shoulder meet, forehead resting in the divot there as he slowly begins thrusting. Soft grunts and groans brush against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Praises fall from your own lips as his tip continues to kiss your cervix, egging him further in helping you reach your climax. But tonight was about him, as long as the man on top of you convulsed with pleasure you’d be happy.

Matt’s hips snap against yours, picking up the pace as he chases his orgasm. It’s so close, right on the edge, and from the way he sounds and feels you’re close too. “Keep going, Matt. Don’t stop,” you moan, pulling him in closer with your legs around his waist. Matt whimpers your name, sucking and biting on the skin of your neck harder with each passing thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, words choppy and interrupted by pants and moans. All you can do is whimper in return, snaking a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. As soon as your fingers touch the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body goes into overdrive. Your legs are shaking, pussy fluttering around his cock as you grip his shoulders and moan his name. The feeling of your walls pushing and pulling around him, mixed with the way you chant his name, pushes Matt over the edge. His hips tremble slightly as he spills his load inside of you, his inexperience making it to where he’s unable to pull out before the wave of pleasure washed over his body.

Your bodies remain intertwined for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath. Matt reluctantly pulls out of you, relishing in the way your body chases after him. The mattress dips as he slumps into the spot next to you.

“Thank you.”

You turn to face Matt, a confused look on your face. You’re not sure where this will lead your relationship, but you never expected a thank you after sex, nor had you ever received one.

“Thank you?” You chuckle, curious to where the conversation was heading.

He hums. “Yeah, for not letting me die a virgin.” You can’t help the snort that follows.

“Well in that case, I guess you’re welcome. No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.”

Matt smiles again, a sight you’ll never grow tired of. He leans in for a kiss, pulling you close and keeping you there. The kiss is sloppy, mostly because you’re both exhausted from the days events, but neither of you dare pull away. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring or if there will even be a tomorrow, all you know is that this moment right here is real and you’d like to enjoy it for as long as possible.

“Get some rest, we have a long trip tomorrow.”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Thank you so much for this request my sweet anon. I’m currently rewatching (binging) TWD and needed to get some zombie apocalypse type story out of my system, so I hope you don’t mind that I used that idea on your request. Also, I know you requested for the reader to teach Matt and I didn’t include really any of that here. I focused on the whole Virgin!Matt aspect of it all. Hope you all enjoy, sorry for not writing a lot recently :P I’m deep in the trenches of Daryl Dixon fanfiction right now so if u need me, that’s where you’ll find me (if u can’t already tell by my reblogs lolol)

ps, I didn’t go to UCLA so if that’s not the mascot don’t kill me. A quick google search told me that much

luv u all xxx

- L.A.M.B 💗👼🏻

—

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[lunarw0rks]

sweet thing | part two

˖⁺‧₊˚ read it on ao3 | masterlist | last chapter | next chapter

price takes a liking to his neighbor. vulnerable, expecting, and in need of his helping hand. it's a good thing he always wanted a family.

john price x pregnant!reader

warning(s): MDNI (18+); NOT EDITED, pregnancy, hurt/comfort, small illusion to nausea/vomiting, fem!reader [wc: 2.6k]

You'd never admit to how long you stared at the wrinkled paper after John's footsteps dissipated.

And now, the digits taunted you, even when they were far out of sight.

Going about your day seemed harder than before when you had nothing and no one to lean on. Now, the mere temptation of having someone to bother was enough to gnaw at you. The handsome guy next door was just being... nice, right? Most, if not the majority, of people would go out of their way to help out a pregnant woman.

Nothing about yesterday makes you remarkable. Still, you felt otherwise.

Everything about John exuded discipline; someone dependable and safe.

A well-kept house on the outside—and inside, which you gathered from a few lucky glimpses. It's not often that you see him in the light of day, until recently. He was always gone, weeks on end, and then suddenly, he was always there. If you had the time, you might pity him for having nothing better to do than people-watch and smoke cigars out the screen door. If the circumstances differed, you might have been friends by now. You've just been preoccupied as of late, cherishing the days that you can tolerate and doing your best to forget the ones you can't.

Today is an intolerable, unforgettable one.

Another bill shoved through the mail slot that you can't pay, only to be added to the heaping pile. You're behind on laundry, and your bedroom desperately needs a reset. To top it off, the recurring aches and pains have gotten worse, proving that your body is working overtime to support its newest addition. As the months progress, it's only going to get worse. What will you do when you're fully out of commission?

Being idle is the most petrifying part of this whole ordeal. Not the idea of raising a little one on your own, but the stepping-stones along the way to get there.

It takes unlikely amounts of strength to go through pregnancy alone and you're beginning to wonder if you have enough left.

All you can rely on to tie you over is one, very predictable, pleasure.

Cravings. Sweet, savory, hot, cold, edible—even inedible. All that matters is satiating them. They may very well reserve a spot for you in the drugstore checkout since you're a recurring resident, bearing a teeming basket and stomach.

Though driven by a deep hunger for something tasty, you rush through making dinner. Dumping ingredients into saucepans rather than measuring them. Chopping with fervor, sure to make a house guest unsettled if they were looking over your shoulder.

The last step is—begrudgingly—waiting for the sauce to simmer.

It takes one glance at the couch before you plop down and elevate your swelled feet, allowing them the rest they desperately need. Flickers of the day weigh on you again. Rising before the sun, hours of tedious work, a bland, hasty lunch, and the residual exhaustion from the previous months weighing heavy.

Even less time, a blink, before you slip into unconsciousness.

The sight of your living room is back in an instant. Slightly blurry as you blink away the sleep you didn't finish. Somehow, you find the strength to scramble to the stove when the stench of char hits your nostrils. You pinch the knob, killing the heat before you dip the spoon in again like a few stirs would fix your craving. The once smooth and buttery cream had curdled, edges singed and sticking to the cheap cookware. Not salvageable in the slightest.

Even considering how hungry you are; no, especially considering how hungry you are. You can't afford to be picky, yet you resentfully scrape the remnants of sauce into the trash.

It takes everything in you to not tear the kitchen apart then and there. It fleets quickly when the exhaustion hits you again, just as abruptly as the tears. Head in hands, your eyes gloss, and your cheeks do, too. The blubbering lasts only a few minutes but feels like hours. By the end of it, your lips are chapped and quivering. It's just dinner; you can make something else. But the self-reassurance does little.

You catch a glimpse through the window when you go to the sink to pat some water on your face. Golden light looms through the cracks of blinds, spliced by flickers of a television.

No. You can't possibly bother him.

He gave you his number, though, all old-fashioned like on a slip of paper. Gave you permission to call. And... he's right next door. What can a little favor hurt?

Before you know it, your knuckles peck against the wood.

He's perplexed, to say the least.

It's late, pitch black—except for the porch and garden lights illuminating the path—and you're disheveled. Though it's obvious you made a conscious effort to fix yourself up a bit, your features are still puffy and moistened. The sunken crescents below your eyes have deepened. Your fingers twitch in nervousness or... sorrow, perhaps. There's not much you can hide from a man such as himself.

"Everything alright, love?" His brow peaks with concern, naturally.

It takes you a moment to process, partially because of the pathetic nature of your house call, and how altruistic he's been. Poor thing: only in her pajamas, he muses, allowing you the time.

"I, uhm," you quiver, "am not sure how to ask you this."

John leans forward slightly, tilting his head to let you know he's listening.

Considering how rough you look, the hour, and how antsy, he knows he needs to step in. Whatever it is. The worst scenarios begin to bubble, making his head spin until he forces himself to stifle them. It could be nothing. Still and all, you're clearly not here for the conversation.

After more than a beat of silence, you release your bottom lip from between your teeth. "I burned my dinner."

"And I hate to ask, but— I-I didn't want to run to the store so late." It's even dumber when the words are out in the open. Seriously? Bothering the nice man over burnt sauce? You consider sucking it up and waddling home to choke down a frozen meal or something equally as unfulfilling.

Maybe even moving out and changing your name.

Echoes of your conversation prior come back to him. He told you to call him, damn near groveled, if you ever need anything. Though he didn't expect the first favor to be a late-night food errand, he couldn't possibly leave you hanging midair. A swaying, fictile little mess on his porch. One who needs him. It's been weeks since he felt that, no doubt missing leading his team. Being depended on like life and death. And it is.

He has to remind himself now that it isn't anymore, at least not right now. Forces himself to muffle his savior instincts.

John forces a squint, coupling a faint smile. "You did the right thing. What do you need?"

You stammer as you explain yourself, despite the neighbor showing no sign of irritation. Mentioning your cravings, how tired you get, that you let things at home get out of hand—

These things are all expected to Price. He gives you a supportive nod, raising a thumb to wipe at your wet cheeks. It soothes you instantly. Makes the hysteria feel less.

"It's alright, it's alright... Why don't you go back inside, hm? Can't be out here this late."

His palm finds purchase on the small of your back, matching your slow pace as you turn, slippers scraping along the pavement. Pathetically, you step inside your entryway again, facing him when he doesn't cross the threshold behind you.

Before you can unfetter the meek thank you festering in your throat, he points his index at the sofa. His effortless authority makes you fold instantly. Despite its soft nature, John is not a man you want to clash with.

The plush cushion dulls the thorns along your spine and tailbone, allowing the extra baby weight off your muscles. You don't even try to conceal the grunts and groans when you sit down. Coyness, subtlety; there's no room for it. And you're certain the gruff man next door has dealt with worse and dirtier.

"These your house keys?" He inquires, only to inform, since he nabs them right after.

John pays little mind to your answer. Either way, he's making this errand his mission and he knows better than to disappoint. The keys chime when he gives you one last glance, giving you a sharp glance that says stay right there, or else.

You had no intention of moving, but that alone made you feel like you were already in trouble.

The half-hour he was gone was the longest wait of your life. Stomach grumbling, eyes drooping, you gazed mindlessly at the television until you heard the lock releasing. A paper bag crumbles as he cradles it, and you whip your head around to catch a glimpse. You're not sure of him or the food. Without so much a word, he strolls into your kitchen and gets to work, like he owns the place. Internally, you cringe at the thought of the mess he'll have to work around.

"What did you get?"

"You'll see," his voice echoes from the other room but drifts closer mere moments later. Over your shoulder, you're handed a variety pack of sweets. "And 'm sure these will keep you and the rugrat satisfied until I'm done."

The words sound so gruff that you almost chortle but pull yourself together with an appreciative nod. (Once his back is turned, your self-control is a different story. With a handful of M&Ms in your mouth and the mental image of him fretting over what candy to buy you, the wait isn't so bad—)

The faint clambering continues, and you do your best to focus on the television. Trying not to picture how good he must look right now, focused heavily on the spread of ingredients, cooking them to perfection; all in hopes of appeasing you, the burden next door, to whom he owes absolutely nothing. The aroma soothes your nostrils, the ones still clashing with the stench of charred food. Spewing into the trash bin isn't entirely unlikely, though, regardless of how good of a cook he is.

Plates clink in your peripheral, jostling you out of the daydreams. His eyes are still immersed in your mien, long after he hands one off to you and cagily lowers himself onto the edge of the coffee table as if hand-feeding a ferocious animal. Praying that it won't lunge and tear him apart. You lean back and pick up the fork, giving the meal an oversee. Some sort of salmon seared to perfection, and a side of veggies that you can tell were pre-cut. He is yet to dig in either, you notice, by the lack of movement.

"It's okay for baby," John reassures, eyes flickering from yours to your bump, "I checked."

You brush it off with a shy smile, deciding to focus on stabbing into a little bit of everything to get a full bite. The staring doesn’t stop, but doesn’t feel odd, either. It’s nice to be the one considered first. Cared for.

It‘s an unprecedented, too-good-to-be-true sensation that you figure you will only savor as long as it lasts. Maybe just tonight.

The first bite quiets your buzzing ears and nagging abdomen. Not too pungent or fishy and the texture doesn't make you gag—a rarity nowadays. You... actually feel a wealth better, despite not craving any of this in the first place. How he pulled it off is a mystery.

You chew intently, giving compliments with a mouthful. "It's—"

"Good? Good." His posture livens as if the praise is what he'd been waiting for. He takes it as an incentive to begin eating his half, too. There is no way he would've without your blessing.

Making progress on helping is no issue when you aren't feeding only you. The sliver of awkwardness that lingers in the air is obstinate, though. A good, hearty meal doesn't distract once all is said and done. John is nothing more than 'John' to you; the (potentially unlucky) empathetic guy next door, and you're the pest that keeps finding its way in.

Too piteous to squash between his fingers. They smooth the fissures, soothing and lulling into a sense of shelter.

"What's on your mind, love?" He probes, leaving a few bites behind on the plate. Suddenly, your aspect adjusts and takes in the closeness of this all. He is across from you, palms on his knees like they're ready to extend at a moment's notice.

A small, willfully dense hm? escapes before you can recover, but his demeanor never splinters.

"You went somewhere."

You blink. "Just thinking... The baby, and well, everything else. I'm a mess lately. And... and, there's so much to do and I feel like I'm out of time, I guess." His eyes survey you, brows knitting with perturb. It's obvious being willingly vulnerable is a new taste for you. But you can't stop the burdens from spilling.

The same goes for tears.

It's his moment to swoop in, to feed his instincts. Seeing you was enough to send them into overdrive, but now, with glossy cheeks and desolate globes— the swell knocks the wind out of him.

Gnarled pads of his fingers smooth along your skin again, more tender than on the porch, because this time, it isn't soiled dinner you're teary-eyed about; it's your future.

Somehow, some way, he's already picturing his home in it. He doesn't listen to the nagging voice telling him it's too soon or doomed from the start, like all his lovers.

"None of that, lovie. Please don't say that." You lean into his hand, treating his homage like evangel.

Another sob racks through you and your cheek's against his heart. Rushing; hammering; thumping, so loud you can't make out his comforts until you settle your breathing. Small, defenseless protests threaten to leak, each time cut short.

"No use in getting yourself worked up, eh? Doesn't do either of you good." Your head nods along, soaking in every word. The motion grows weaker the longer he sits you in limbo, forced to accept his support. Talking is... futile, pointless, now. He's right and he's got you pinned.

Achingly, he leans forward until you're resting against the cushion again, no longer straining your back to maintain the embrace. You're too drained, merely sagging backward and accepting it. Too tired to resist gentleness.

You can get a good look at him this close.

The humanity seeping through a hardened gaze. Muscled, forbidding limbs tingling with the unfamiliar sensation of benign. Though you can almost hear the thoughts race through his head, John remains placid for your sake.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, head tilting when you finally reciprocate the eye contact, satisfied. "You need rest." Off to the side, he lifts the corner of the throw blanket and begins draping it along your frame, tucking in around your bump. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed.

"And 'm only a knock away," he adds, bracing his knees to come to a stand, a muffled grunt escaping his teeth.

Something's missing. He has more to say. Instead, he distracts by turning on his heels. It's too soon. Not yet.

Part of him buzzes when you speak up again, hoping, praying that you'll prove his thoughts wrong.

A groggy 'thank you' fluxes his way instead, and he can practically hear the droop of your eyelids.

"No need." He replies, patience stifling the fury. "I'll be in tomorrow, see how you're doing."

A shameless self-invite he regrets once it's in the air, but sway is the one thing he can't—won't—lose. If there's one lesson that stuck with him all these years, it's that you take what you can get.

Minute milestones. A slow smolder. Baby steps.

That's what it will take.

[nurse-sainz]

MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON MAX VER-STRAP-ON

Oh Viv...this is PURE absolute filth and you are 100% to blame haha!

Warnings: pure pure smut, pegging.

Max was pissed. You could hear it in the way his voice sounded when he let his engineer know his car was actually on fire. Couldn’t miss it in the way he stomped out of the car and ripped his helmet and balaclava off and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. You wanted nothing more than to run to his side, hug him and tell him it was okay. But, he still had a job to do, a race to watch and a debrief to attend. Later that night, you’d just have to show him just how much you loved him and give him a reason not to write the whole day off as a shit show. 

“Hey Maxie,” you knew he loved it when you called him that, “come here,” you said softly as you held your arms out toward him. 

The weight was still heavy in his shoulders as he practically fell into your arms, his head resting on your shoulder. You knew Max inside and out and could see he was still beating himself up, despite it not being his fault. 

Yeah…tonight was going to be all about him. You were going to remind him of his worth, why Max Verstappen deserved to be called world champion. It was going to be a night to erase the day he’d had. 

Max dragged his feet as he moved across the hotel room and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders sagging as he let out a long sigh. You followed him and climbed on the bed behind him and wrapped your arms around his chest. You could feel his frustration as you gently massaged his shoulders, stroked his hair and offered him comfort. 

“You’ll get them next time,” you whispered in his ear,” that ended with you nipping at his ear. 

He leaned his head back, his eyes closed as he let out a groan. You could tell it was working, could feel him relaxing as his body sagged against your chest and you knew it was time to take things further. With your free hand, you ran it down his chest and stomach before you teased at the waistband of his jeans. It had the desired effect as you saw the bulge in his pants grow at your touch. 

“Let me take care of you tonight,” you murmured, your hot breath tickling his ears. “Just relax baby, let me take away all that frustration. Make you feel good.” 

You stood on your knees and made an attempt to unbuckle his belt, it was difficult from the angle but he gladly helped. As soon as the belt was off and the button and zipper were undone, you slipped your hands beneath the waistband of his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his hardening cock. 

Max gasped at the contact, letting out a hiss as his eyes fluttered closed at the pleasure that shot through him. You started slowly, your movements gently as you teased him, knowing exactly how to drive him crazy. 

“That’s it sweetheart,” you growled softly in his ear, “you might not have won today, but we're definitely going to make up for it tonight.” 

You could feel just how much he was enjoying it as you watched his chest rise and fall quicker as his breathing picked up. This was only the beginning though. He groaned as you released your grip on his cock and stood up from the bed. He watched as you slipped out of your own clothes, revealing the lacy lingerie set you knew he loved. Regardless of whether he won or lost you knew you’d be having sex with him that night, so you were prepared. 

“Got a surprise for you tonight, baby,” you said as you retrieved a strap-on hardness, lube and a pink dildo from your luggage. The perks of traveling on a private jet…no TSA. You strapped it on, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. The sight of you taking control with the bright pink dildo strapped around your waist had his cock twitching all over again. 

“Get undressed for me, Max. I’m going to take charge tonight. Give you just what you need,” your eyes darkened a little, you loved watching him like this, all submissive. “I’m going to fuck you Max, peg you hard and remind you just how fucking special you are.” 

Max didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled his top off, revealing his toned abs and shrugged his jeans and boxers all the way off, throwing them to the side. He was putty in your hands. 

You made a move to where he stood, completely naked and pushed him backwards onto the bed. Max’s breath caught in his throat as you joined him, straddling his waist and positioning yourself between his legs. 

“Like the view?” you teased, seeing the way he was staring at you, chest heaving as he focussed on the bright pink dildo. “You’re going to let me take care of you tonight. Take my cock like the good boy I know you are.” 

He nodded, licking his dry lips. You leaned down, capturing his lips with your own, deepening the kiss as your tongue dipped into his mouth. You gripped his hard and swollen cock and gave it a few tugs as you stroked it in time with your kisses. 

“I want you nice and hard for this, baby,” you whispered into his ear with another nip before you sat up and positioned the head of the dildo at Max’s entrance. With a gentle but firm push, you entered the tip of the dildo, pausing for a moment for him to get used to the stretch. 

“Such a good boy for me,” you groaned, as you looked at his face, wanting to savor the pure bliss of his expression. “So tight for me.” 

Slowly, you pushed in further and let him adjust to the girth a little longer before you began to slowly move your hips in a steady rhythm. Max’s eyes closed, his mouth open as he became lost in the sensation. The bliss was heightened further when you leaned down, angling the dildo just right as you kissed and nibbled at his neck. 

“You like taking my cock like that, baby?” 

“Fuck…yes,” he moaned as he moved his head back, expposing his neck for you further. 

His response only encouraged you further as you increased the pace of your thrusts, sliding the dildo in and out of his tight hole. Your hand joined in as he wrapped around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts. 

“Cum for me, baby,” you urged, “want to feel you tighten around my cock as you explode.” 

Those were all the words he needed to hear, the angle of the dildo and the strokes on his cock were enough to send him over the edge as he cried out, his body arching as the waves of pleasure washed over him and he released himself. 

He collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving as you pulled out from him. You lay down beside him, tracing patterns on his chest as he calmed down. 

“That was incredible,” Max murmured, his voice hoarse from the night's activities, “I needed that.” 

“Anything for my man,” you replied. 

As you lay side by side, Max forgot about the frustrations of the day. He knew he’d make it up next time. For now he was content to just lay with you and enjoy what the rest of the night had in store.

[futurepastme]

SecretConsort!merlin

I had this fic idea before falling asleep, I don't know if anything like this already exists (probably). Be warned that I didn't revise this once.

First of all Arthur and Merlin absolutely love each other, but they start off as friends with benefits. Until one day Arthur can't handle anymore

“Say you're mine. Say you'll be mine and no one else's”

“I'll be yours as long as you're also mine”

And yeah, they go exclusive after that (they already were but now was official) and give them a few months or years, but eventually Merlin becomes Arthur's secret consort and they are officially official, mother's sigil and all, because like I said, they Love each other.

Anyways, eventually Uther finds out they are together and he gets tomato-red furious, and only calms down when Arthur agrees to marry for political reasons, whomever Uther chooses for him.

The thing is, Uther kind of learns to like them as a couple, not that they go all out and about telling the world, because is still supposed to be a secret, but Uther sees the sweet glances and the smiles, and most of all he sees how willingly they are to die for each other and it just sits right with him. Uther thinks Merlin makes a good consort for his son and is in no hurry to marry him off anymore.

But of course, nothing really stays the same, and the day comes where the only way Uther finds to keep peace with another kingdom is to marry Arrhur off to some other king's daughter, and he hates it because he knows and he approves of his relationship with the skinny boy that makes his son so happy.

And then comes the heartbreaking scene of Arthur telling Merlin the news and the even more heartbreaking scene before Arthur's wedding day

“I won't be able to be only yours anymore”

“Maybe not, but I'll always be yours”

And they cry through the night holding each other tightly as if the world were to end, because it just might.

And the next day, Uther can freaking see it 

They are both behaving, no one is causing a scene but from up close you can notice how bloodshot their eyes are. And he can see it in the way they refuse to make eye contact, he can see it as he sees Merlin silently crying as Arthur shows the crowd their future queen.

And Uther hates it.

And is not like the new princess is a horrible person but she just doesn't like Merlin, she doesn't want to share her husband. She makes Merlin leave Arthur's Chambers and forbids him to follow Arthur all day unnecessarily, but she knows she can't win.

Not when the King himself gives Merlin royal chambers on the same floor as theirs, and especially not when Arthur doesn't spend the night on his.

Arthur has duties, though. Husband duties. And he has to fulfill them and it kills Merlin.

And Uther can just watch helplessly as Merlin's gaze follows Arthur and his wife and he stays behind as the servant he is supposed to be and is so unfair because she doesn't even love Arthur 

And they keep growing apart but keep fighting for each other because they are fucking made to be together so they still try even if the best they can do for days is hold each other for a few minutes just breathing each other in because that's home and that's where they are meant to be

It continues for a while until one day comes where Arthur goes out without Merlin

And at the same time while he is away, his wife finds herself with child, and everyone's so happy and Merlin just has to leave for a while because he can't handle it

But again, things never go as planned and the knights return with Arthur's body, because something went wrong 

And you can honestly choose what it was, a curse, a spell, bandits, a boar, a mercenary, it doesn't matter because Arthur is dead now and Merlin wasn't there to save him

And now Uther has to deal not only with the death of his only son, and with his widow wife with child but he'll be the one to tell his consort and is so devastating 

Merlin's face turns from sad to haunting and it's like the world ended and Uther can see himself in him, he can see the death of his love weighting on Merlin the way it weighed on him, if not worse

Arthur's body stays inside the castle for two days before the burial so the people of the castle can say their goodbyes and no one has seen Merlin, they are not even sure he went to see Arthur 

And everyone is concerned about the poor widow all dressed in black, she is sad, sure, but the tears rolling from her eyes are just for show, Arthur was barely a friend, but he was good to her

Arthur's body is being prepared for removal, overseen by his family and close friends before the public ceremony took place, and that's when it happens 

Merlin just barges in and stops everything. 

He's spent two days working in it, and he just doesn't care anymore, as long as it works

And Uther once again just watches as this skinny boy fills the room with golden light, and he can't even care to do anything because honestly he would do everything for his love if he could 

And everyone watches as the light coming from Merlin starts being absorbed by Arthur through his chest and is so beautiful to watch

Arthur starts to sit up as Merlin lowers down and they just have a moment, a small second where they are both there and Merlin just rests his head against Arthur's 

“I would do it again. I would do it as many times as needed because I love you and you are my everything”

“Merlin?”

And then the light is gone, and so is Merlin 

And Uther watched as his widowed son holds his lover's body, just like he did over twenty years ago

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[bahrtofane]

Promises under the stars - Carlos ending

Part 1

Part 1 Jude pov

Part 2 READ PT 2 FIRST PLEAAAZEEE

im begging read pt 2 before this pls. plz.

—

Here it is yall.

Why is there a Carlos ending? Good question ! While brain rotting with my dear dear friend it spiraled and we grew to love him too great and I couldn’t just let him suffer! He deserves an ending with his baby okay !!

Word count - 1.4k+

Watch it - alcoholic behavior galore. Miserable Jude. Mentions of child birth nothing descriptive tho

———

It turns out Jude is one stubborn mother fucker.

He’s everywhere you go to the point that you go through with the damn restraining order. Carlos cuts his hours in order to be home with you more due to the pregnancy and just to keep and eye out for any more bizarre events.

Little does he know what is to come.

——

At 2 pm Jude comes banging on your driveway gate, yelling and throwing curses at the both of you.

You’re taking a nap. Tuckered out from the mornings errands and the start of building your nursery in one of the spare rooms.

Carlos is sitting at the kitchen table reading his emails when he hears the noise.

He calls the police and watches from the front door as they drag Jude off screaming and in tears.

He tells you about it when you wake about an hour later. It’s all over the news anyway. Madrid star jailed for public intoxication and violation of a restraining order.

You both decide heading to Spain for the rest of your pregnancy might be best. You refused a doula, you wanted it to be much more intimate. But the stress is starting to get to you. Tremors and headaches, nights spent worrying.

“It will pass.” Carlos promises. Kissing your knuckles softly.

——-

Jude can't think straight. In every breath he smells the perfume you wore last time he saw you at that damn cafe.

When he closes his eyes he sees you being grabbed away from him. Pregnant with his child.

In his dreams he’s tormented by a shadowed of a future that can not be.

Jude thinks there’s a million better endings than this one. That if he were to die right now he would cheer.

There is no one to comfort him. Not in a way that matters. His family no longer talks to him and his house is much too big to be alone in. He still fears the darkness. The unknown.

Instead he buys time with alcohol. Drinking till he can’t see straight. Never mind if he has practice or a game.

He parties so hard he never remembers what he did the night before.

He gets slower on the pitch. Making messy tackles and ending up with unnecessary cards and his temper becomes a liability.

He’s gotten multiple takings. You need to calm down Jude they keep saying. How can he calm down with so much rage, a rage that’s almost as old as he is.

How can he forget you ?

——

You get to Spain and feel like you’re going to pop, even though you know you have a few months left.

His mother clears out rooms for you on the first floor so you can avoid going up and down the stairs too much.

“Have you thought of names?” His dad asks at dinner.

You shrug, “not really. We haven’t had the chance to sit down and think about it properly. “

He hums, knife sliding against his plate.

Carlos has a hand on your knee, rubbing his fingers softly against the material of your dress. Dresses are the only thing that fit you anymore. The only thing you feel comfortable enough in.

His sisters stop by with gifts for the baby, their husband as well. Each giving you hugs and kisses.

“Oh I can’t wait.” Blanca smiles, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You have a little gender reveal in the living room. Just a cake in your pajamas while everyone is at home. His parents are smiling wide, phones out. His sisters watch with eyes wide, leaning into their husbands.

You and Carlos cut into it, hands on the knife as it sinks in. Pink icing on the knife. You’re having a girl.

——-

The nursery gets finished a few weeks before your due date. She’s going to be a summer baby. It fits well.

The house is filled with people in and out to come visit you. And soon comes the family reunion.

You’re forced to sit and relax, rolling your eyes watching the prep going on around you.

When the now familiar faces fill the home you greet them with a smile and they all shower you in compliments and well wishes. It turns more into a baby shower, gifts pouring in til, the nursery is full of them.

Carlos sticks to your side like glue. A hand on your back helping you get to your seat and settled. “Need more pillows?”

You shake your head, “I’m good my love thank you. “

He kisses your temple and the dinner service begins.

This time you understand more of what his mother says in the toast. She even welcomes your baby into the family and you can’t stop smiling. She’s done so much for you. There’s no woman you’d want as your mother in law more than her. Reyes is so so kind. How can you ever repay her kindness?

You retire to your room early into the night. Already tired from being on your feet more than usual. Carlos joins you, even if you insist that he can stay out and mingle he follows you. Drawing the curtains and getting your bed ready.

He presses a kiss to your stomach when you’re situated. “She’s almost here.” He whispers.

You smile, “I know. I still can’t believe it.”

“Me neither. “

“What did you want to name her anyway?”

He hums, rubbing a hand along your stomach, “I don’t really know. I like typical Spanish names. Maybe like Rosalia. What do you think.”

“I think that I have someone I want to name her after.”

“Really?”

You nod, “your mother. You think she’d like it? I want to give her two first names and the second would be Reyes.”

Carlos turns to his side, cradling your face in his hands. “Oh sweetheart she’s going to love it. I love it. Are you sure?”

You kiss his nose. “I’m sure. “

——-

You have your baby in a nearby hospital. A little bundle no more than 6 pounds. Crying out while you hold her close. Carlos is crying. And so are you.

Her name is just like you wanted. Your favorite flower is her first and Reyes the second. And of course she gets the insanely long full Sainz family full name. The nurse runs out of room when she writes it all down. Takes an extra piece of paper but it fits. Eventually.

His parents visit you with flowers a day later.

“Look at her name.” Carlos tells his mother.

She takes a closer look, and bursts into tears. “She has my name.” She cries into her husband's arms.

“I hope you like it.” You sniffle, unable to stop your own tears.

She wraps her arms around you gently, “oh I love it. I love it so so much.”

You don’t invite your parents. Them coming to the wedding was enough for you. They can meet her when the time comes. Too much meddling in your life has turned you distant to them at best. Oh well.

When you make it back home you’re greeted to a home cooked meal made by his sisters. All of your favorites and boy do you dig in.

Everyone is excited to see her. Little fingers reaching out into the world.

Carlos holds her flush to his chest when you get settled for the night.

“Our baby. My little girl. She’s so beautiful.” He kisses her head.

You smile, fixing the hat she has on. “You’re going to be such a good dad Carlos.” You kiss his cheek.

He flushes, “you think?”

You nod, watching him set her down into her crib.

“I know it.”

You didn’t know it was possible to love more. But your girl is proving you wrong. And everyone else in the family it seems. They’re obsessed with her.

She’s going to know so much love.

Things did work out in the end. With Carlos and your baby sleeping peacefully in the same room and the moonlight dancing through the curtains, it was all worth it in the end.

You whisper a different promise under the stars. This time it’s for your family. For your baby. For Carlos. For his family who have opened their home to you.

The stars twinkle back at you and you find peace. You’ve found it, tucked away in the Spanish countryside. Your peace has finally come.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 3

TW: crying, mentions of abuse, brief mentions of death, anxiety

Notes: I HC Thatch as being Mexican. We're getting a little yandere-y...

Also I don't think I mentioned but this is AU where Thatch, Ace, and Whitebeard don't die because I love them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t really sure what you were doing. Your body was moving but you didn’t feel like you were controlling any of it. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything, could barely breathe. You realized you were still clutching the poster in your hand, so you forced yourself to relax your grip and put it in the pocket of your apron. You crouched down on your heels by the end of the alley with your head in your hands. You started rubbing your fingers on your scalp as a way to try to ground yourself in the moment. All the stupid bullshit methods of self regulation you had been reading about weren’t working. Your thoughts were swirling like a maelstrom, threatening to drown you in their chaos. You were angry so very angry and sad and scared so very scared and worried and back to angry. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed but at some point you picked up your head and saw Thatch seated next to you leaning against the side of the alley. Even though you saw him already, it still spooked you to see him so close. You jerked a little bit but didn’t move your position. 

“Rough news, huh?” he said with a gentle tone. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet another Fourth Division Commander!” his light hearted joke didn’t land as you didn’t respond. You could barely process your own thoughts, let alone navigate social interactions.

“I’m not a pirate” you said and sat all the way down next to him. You bent your knees to your chest and placed your head on top of them.

“No offense mamacita, but I didn’t think you were. So what’s with the bounty then? Are you a Marine on the run? We have a few Marine contacts if you ne–”

“I am NOT a Marine” you said emphatically as you shot him a look of malice. Immediately you deflated - he didn’t deserve your ire. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t called for. I just…I’m just angry. Not at you, though.” You absently started to fix some of the cracked cobblestones near you. It was a good outlet for your energy at least. 

“I thought all the Twisted Pirates were killed a long time ago. I haven't heard about them in years” Thatch said, scratching his goatee.

“Yeah, they were.”

“And the Marines are saying you’re the Twisted’s Commander? So if you’re not a Marine and you’re not a pirate, what’s going on? That’s a huge bounty for a civilian.”

You looked into his eyes and grimaced. You were already in so much trouble, you didn’t think telling anyone at this point would make a difference. Besides, he looked like he might actually listen. You weren’t sure you could make it through the story without crying, but taking in a shaky breath you started. 

“Um, well… about 7 years ago my island was attacked by the Twisted pirates. The pirates destroyed everything on the island and took me with them. I was with them for a while until they were defeated by Marines. The Marines took me from the pirates and kept me on their ship for about 5 years. A few months ago, the ship I was on was wrecked and I ended up on this island. I guess they want me back.”

Thatch was listening and watching you intently. Your eyes had started to water so you turned your head to face the other way. 

“What do you mean they kept you on their ship? Like they forced you to join their ranks?”

You turned your face back towards him and shook your head. “No. At first when they brought me on their ship I was so grateful. I thought they would take me back to my island or somewhere closeby. But they saw my devil fruit power and just kept me on the ship as an unprocessed pirate captive. They never took me to a base, never charged me with anything, just…kept me on their boat. Since I was never processed on any Marine base, there was no record of my so-called rescue or how I came to them. I had no status, no rights. I was just there to do with as they wanted. ”

You were crying now, tears running down your cheeks as you talked. “All the other Twisted pirates were killed in battle, so there was no one to corroborate my side of the story. They said I was a pirate since I have a jolly roger on me and it was my word against Marine officers.”

Thatch reached into his coat pocket and handed you a handkerchief. For a moment he hesitated, seeming to want to dry them himself. But you were glad he let you do it himself.

“So I stayed there, a prisoner on the ship. They never let me leave the boat or be seen by other officers or commanders or anything. I fixed their ship all the time, I worked a lot….stuff like that. They weren’t…nice to me. Then the ship sank, so…” you trailed off, feeling deflated. You didn’t feel like talking anymore about what had happened. Your initial adrenaline had worn off and you were feeling exhausted.

Thatch tilted his head with a concerned look on his face, and extended his arm to pat your back with his hand. He didn’t touch you immediately, but waited until you nodded slightly at him. His large hand started rubbing soothing circles on your back while your tears dried. It felt…nice. Warm. You laid your head back down on your knees and closed your eyes. No one had rubbed your back in…you couldn’t remember. You hoped he wouldn’t stop.

Thatch POV

Even though he was gently rubbing your back, Thatch was smoldering with rage inside. If you weren’t there he would have punched a hole through the brick wall. He hoped he was keeping a neutral enough expression on his face. The last thing you needed was to see more aggression.

Kept as a slave for years on a Marine ship? No wonder you were so upset when he asked if you were a Marine. He couldn’t imagine your time on the pirate boat had been any better either. He was sure there was even more to the story underneath the surface of what you had said. He wanted to ask you questions but now wasn’t the time. 

It was obvious that the Marines wanted you back to continue using you for your Devil Fruit and who knows what else. All the women he had ever met who were captives held deep and lasting trauma. With your fruit he couldn’t imagine how much money you’d saved the Marines over the course of 5 years, completing repairs for free. He was sure someone high up got a fat bonus for saving money on the bottom line, too. Based on your wanted poster picture, they were running you ragged. He wondered how they kept you a secret from all the other crews and officials.

For a measly 25,000 Beri they’d be able to have their free service back without having to look for you. You would fall prey to the first bounty hunter to look for you since you weren’t a fighter and didn’t have connections. It was a good plan from the Marines, but not one he was going to let happen.

Thatch noticed you started crying again, completely silent. You seemed to be used to crying and either no one caring - or worse - being hurt for making noise. Your jumpiness and nervousness made more sense with the new information. 

“Pobrecita…no te preocupes…estoy aquí” Thatch started cooing to you in Spanish, saying whatever came to his mind. Even though he was enraged at the situation and feeling sorry for you, he did notice how sweet you looked crying like this. You were like a little doll, a little broken thing he could have and fix. Thatch knew himself well enough to recognize his protective - and possessive - streak. You were so sad, so worried, so fragile. He knew what he wanted - he just needed the others inside to agree. And how could they not? After all, you were so helpless in such a big, bad world...

[ataliagold]

Keep Me Afloat

For @astrangersummer week 8 prompt 'ocean waves.' Title from Passenger by Noah Kahan.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: G

W/C: 1723

Tags: post-Vecna, established Steddie, Steve is self-conscious about his scars, Eddie loves every part of him, minor angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

Summary: Standing in ankle-deep water watching his friends enjoy a summer beach day, Steve looks down at himself and hates what he sees.

___

“You ok?” Robin murmured to him, hand on the small of Steve’s back, on the one small spot of skin unmarred by the now mostly-healed grazes on his back.

“Mmm hmm,” Steve said through tight lips, arms curled over his stomach.

Robin looked at him, eyes falling to where his hands were folded against his sides, against the extensive scarring there. “The kids don’t care, you know,” she said quietly.

Steve scoffed, something bitter and sad. “Yeah. I do, though.”

Ahead of them, the kids were shrieking in chest-deep water, Mike yelling as Lucas dunked him under a wave, Dustin pointing and laughing until he received the same treatment, resurfacing with an angry splutter and splashing water at Lucas.

Max and El were on the shore, Max’s chair parked up on a flat bit of sand, El content to sit beside her and watch their friends’ antics.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle were wandering to the other end of the beach, scouting out the possibility of an ice-cream stand down there.

None of them were even looking at Steve, at the state of the ugly scars across his skin, but it didn’t matter.

Steve was aware enough of them for everyone.

Robin dragged her foot through ankle-deep water. “It’s warm,” she commented, tone light. “Do you want to go in?”

He did.

He’d love to swim out past the kids, let his feet lift off the sand, allow the water to carry him out deep until he could just float under the warm sun and not think about anything for a while.

But he didn’t think he could.

Even now, with the water gently pulling at his toes, sucking at the sand below his feet, his heart rate was picking up.

Try as he might, he couldn’t help but think back to Lover’s Lake, to freezing water rushing into his lungs, to the slimy grip on his ankle that had pulled him down to hell.

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head.

Robin nodded, small and sad. “Eddie’ll be here soon,” she said, trying to cheer him up.

Steve managed a small smile at that. Of course Eddie had overslept for their beach day, leading to a rehash of their plans when Dustin had rung Steve complaining that Eddie hadn’t picked him up as planned.

He was arriving now, though – Steve heard the whine of his van coming to a slammed halt in the parking lot even from where he was standing in the shallows.

Eddie tumbled out, towel in hand, and grinned when he caught sight of Steve, raising his hand in greeting.

Steve smiled softly, a wave of fondness rushing over him.

Robin shook her head, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Here’s your knight in shining armour.”

Eddie tore his shirt off on his way to the water, balling it up and tossing it at Max who responded by grabbing the towel in her lap and snapping it against his ass. Shrieking, Eddie swore, clutching his butt with one hand as he ran the rest of the way over the hot sand.

Eddie wore his scars unashamedly.

They were in full view for everyone to see – the skin on his sides and torso left puckered and twisted, tattoos warped and some unrecognizable where flesh had been stripped. They were worse than Steve’s – the bats had bitten deeper, had had far longer to chow down on him than they had Steve.

But Eddie bared himself easily, confidently, and Steve burned with jealousy.

He’d asked Eddie, once, on a particular night curled up together on the couch when Steve had been feeling small. How he did it, how he didn’t care if people stared, how he wasn’t so…self-conscious.

Eddie had looked down at him through heavy lashes, had brushed his fingertips over Steve’s t shirt above the scarring on his back. “People have always stared at me, Stevie,” he murmured eventually. “Because of my clothes, my hair, because I play D&D, because I’m too loud or too…weird, or because I’m the Devil, I’m a murderer, whatever it is people think…I’ve been stared at and looked down on my whole life, I learnt to stop giving a shit what other people thought a long time ago.”

Steve had tried, he really had. Tried to be more like Eddie, tried to not worry about what other people thought of his appearance. But truthfully…his appearance had always been important to him. He was supposed to be strong, fit, athletic…the King of Hawkins High, once.

Not this pale, gaunt, chewed up and spat-out version of himself.

Eddie reached him with a loud splash, showering cool droplets across Steve’s thighs and stomach. He shivered lightly.

“Sorry,” Eddie panted, “got here as quick as I could. That little shrimp complain much?” he gestured ahead to Dustin.

“Only the whole way here,” Robin replied. “You’re lucky Nance had room in her car for him too.”

Eddie turned his gaze to Steve, smile quickly fading, replaced by a frown. “Stevie, you ok?” he asked gently, squeezing his upper arm.

“I’m gonna go check on the girls,” Robin said, making a strategic exit back towards Max and El, leaving Eddie and Steve alone in the water lapping at their feet.

“Hey, what is it?” Eddie breathed, stepping closer, trying to catch Steve’s eye.

But Steve kept his gaze fixed on the tiny waves, watching them break and recede again. “I’m fine. Just…you know.” He gestured down at himself, then quickly folded his arms back across his stomach.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured, hands coming to rest on Steve’s arms, not pulling them away but just holding. “You’re with friends here, ok? No one minds, no one’s looking. Well, except me, because you’re my boyfriend and you’re hot as hell and I never want to not be looking at you, but…”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Here.” Eddie coaxed one of Steve’s hands into his own, tugged him gently towards deeper water. “Come with me, sweetheart.”

Steve followed him, because he’d follow Eddie anywhere.

He sucked in a breath as the water climbed higher, over the top of his waistband, up to his chest.

“Eds,” he said eventually, breath coming faster as the water approached his shoulders. “S’deep enough.”

Eddie stopped, turning to face him, hair falling wetly around his neck. Despite Steve’s half-hearted protest because what if someone saw, Eddie pulled Steve to him, hands resting under the water on his hips, cold thumbs rubbing circles across the scars there. Although he was nervous at being in the deeper water, Steve was a little relieved to be out here, where the water covered his scars completely.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie whispered to him.

“Eds…” Steve started, looking away.

“No.” Eddie brought one hand to his chin, keeping Steve’s gaze on him. “You are. I know you don’t like your scars, shit, I don’t like my own either. But they’re a part of us now, ok? And you know what?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, but Eddie waited, eyes wide and earnest until Steve muttered,

“What?”

“They mean we survived. We took everything that fucking place could throw at us, and we made it out, and those kids -” Eddie pointed across the water to the boys playing in the waves. “ – they’re alive because of you.”

“And you,” Steve murmured.

“Sure. And me. And I know it’s gonna take some time, Stevie, but please don’t think you need to hide around us. Your scars are part of you, and everyone here loves you.”

Steve took a shaky breath, hand grasping for Eddie’s under the water, holding it tight. “They’re so…they’re so ugly, Eds,” he whispered, looking down at himself.

“Steve,” Eddie said, with a ghost of a smile, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Scars and all, sweetheart, so please don’t say that.”

Steve floundered a little for something to say, feeling vulnerable under Eddie’s steady gaze.

“Do you think my scars are ugly?” Eddie tried.

Steve shook his head quickly. “No.” Because they weren’t, not to Steve. Eddie was badass, he’d gone through hell and been on death’s door for way too long and gone through a grueling recovery and Steve had kissed every one of his scars, he’d never dream of calling them ugly. They were Eddie.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

Eddie leaned in closer, forehead almost brushing against Steve’s. “When you see my scars, what do you think?”

“I think…I think they’re just…part of you, I love you, they don’t…they don’t matter to me,” Steve stammered, a wave of emotion rising up in his throat because he knew what Eddie was doing. “I don’t care how they look, and I love that you can be so confident about them, but I…I can’t do that. With my own. Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie’s brows knitted together. “Try, for me? Just for today. Try and see yourself how you see me.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I…I’ll try.”

Eddie’s smile was reward enough.

Later, Steve lay on the beach bracketed by Eddie and Robin, stretched out under the sun while the kids exhausted themselves in the waves. He’d still tense up whenever someone else walked past him on the sand, still automatically go to throw an arm across his stomach, but that was ok. It was a start, and just the fact that he was lying there with his shirt still off was progress.

Eddie squeezed his hand whenever he could, fed him with small smiles and soft glances, while Robin kept up a steady stream of chatter that helped distract him.

By the time an ice cream run had been completed, by the time Lucas had talked some other beach-goers into borrowing their volleyball net, Steve was feeling…ok. Not his old self, not by a long shot, but it was getting gradually easier to forget about his scars for a short time and just enjoy himself.

And when he leapt into the air to slap the ball back over the net to Lucas, when he turned to see Eddie’s hot and heavy gaze locked on him, Steve even managed a small smirk in his direction.

He’d get there, he thought. Day by day. And Eddie would be there with him every step of the way.

___

[justsomemusingsandthoughts]

Now about season 3 of Bridgerton....some thought from a Greys Anatomy fan of the first hour cause I need to get it off my chest :)

I was really excited to see Polins story unfold even though I didn't watch Bridgerton before or read the books but I was swept up by the excitement on tiktok and got invested in their story.

But as soon as I heard Shona was involved I was like okayyyyyy, I gotta keep my expectations in check cause the women is not one to write healthy and lasting relationships and reasonable men who communicate well😬

Looking at how the season played out, I completely understand why so many people are disappointed cause there was so much potential wasted, so many scenes that could have made clear to the viewer what was going on in Colins head. I think I filled in the gaps in my mind but there are still some moments, some things he said and did that were almost character destroying, specially the comment about the entrapment, cause dude, she didn't even know what sex was🙄 Also, not even trying to have a converation with her about why LW started and has such significance to her was not sth Colin would do.

And that's the crux of why I think for many die hard fans, the season was a let down. They didn't show any true discussions or enough moments of passion alongside the argument cause in truth, there was no time with all the unnecessary side plots and so few episodes. If you saw the season you know, I won't list them all but I will say they better put a proper Polin side story and spicy scene in Ben's season cause the amount of pointless threesomes I had to skip through is almost offensive, especially cause it should be clear people want intimate scenes of the main couple😮‍💨

But looking at all of it considering this show is part of Shondaland, I am not the least bit surprised. The number of downright character assasinations I watched on Grey's (and other shows of hers) after over a decade watching the development of some of them is kinda ridiculous. The number of ruined relationships and the horrible ways most of them were ruined (I almost cannot believe I'm saying this now but thank god they killed off Derek before completely undoing who he actually was and what Meredith meant to him😭).

Untimately, Shonda loves the drama and the angst and very clearly doesn't think there is much entertainment value in showing happy couples resolving their issues in a healthy way. If you watch a project she's involved in, you gotta be prepared for the couple to not make it and in that way, Bridgerton fans are rather lucky considering no matter how the seasons play out, it's gonna end with a happy couple that's not gonna split up again.

She also was never gonna just take books and keep to the narrative cause I don't believe that would be any fun to her. Especially this season, since she has said that Pen is her favorite character. I was immediately thinking Colin will be taking a back seat and have moments viewers will hate him for to have Pen in the forefront individually.

I guess I'm gonna take away and rewatch the beautiful moments, even some of the angsty ones and wait for what little side plots Polin will have in future seasons. I don't believe I will watch the entirety of future seasons cause I'm not interested to be disappointed by Shonda Rhimes' story telling anymore. Been there done that😂

But my little obsession with Polin was still worth it cause they're just an amazing fictional couple and I might just read their book now☺️

And I have definitely found a new actress to follow along for her future roles cause Nicola is just amazing as an actress and as a person🥰

(Also find it deeply offensive to make an audience wait for 2 years (!!!) for 8 episodes but that's for another day😅)

[devilsskettle]

i feel like i’ve been WAITING for the other shoe to drop wrt people’s opinions about watcher for this very reason. not that i think the reaction is completely not understandable but the greater the parasocial relationship, the greater the fallout as soon as public opinion shifts. you don’t have a relationship with these people they’re just content creators, chill

[todayisafridaynight]

This might not be anything, but while writing about your fics, the way you have the characters' mannerisms down PERFECTLY got me thinking about mirroring...

There's a lot of it in 7 (Horii is a directorial genius etc etc), most of it more intentional than these probably are, but there's something so interesting about mirroring that takes the tone of a (relatively) fond memory, a familiar gesture, and inverts it in the way shown here.

OH I'M GLAD YOU'VE NOTICED THESE TOO I think I mentioned it months back (or I drafted a post 'bout it but didn't think it was anything noteworthy) but I always really did like how the Arakawa Family mimicked each other's mannerisms (also circling back to how Jo and Masato calling Ichiban 'Ichi' presumably after picking it up from Arakawa)!

Aoki actually does the same sitting gesture too! I went back to double check and skim through the rest of the game's cutscenes, and as far as I could tell unless I skipped a scene, it really is only these three that do this specific pose:

It's such a small detail but I love it immensely and it really does highlight their connections with each other and it drives me insane

[aph-japan]

{Hetalia} World Stars {+World Series} Kiku Honda {Japan} x "IDOL" Direct Link: {HERE} (Go to the link to view in high quality!!) {NOTE: This A.M.V. may display wrongly at times. If it does not display above with the embed, Please feel free to check the direct link, Which should work at most times!!} Anime Music Video / A.M.V By Me / @aph-japan {Do Not Repost or Reproduce My (+Video) Editing without my Permission} {Do Not Remove Caption} Featuring various dynamics of Kiku's starting in earlier history, also partially based on the stories implied more within the strips {such as "Black Ships Have Come" with Alfred, "Mr. {Holland}" with Netherlands, and "{Alliance} between two Lonely People" with Arthur} going into the modern era {Herakles}, but others {Feliciano + Ludwig, also Yao} - appear briefly in between too. (It's partially complete, but most of it is there.)

Short Summary:

"You, perfect and {a liar},"--

Short Summary {Continued}:

"You, perfect and {a liar}, are 'like' a {genius idol}…"

"I don't know anything about 'falling in love' 'with someone'."

Original commentary and lyrics source under 'read more'!

Long Summary:

There are people who "wear their hearts on their sleeves", and those who "mask" their feelings.

"Aishiteru", in Japanese, is not something that can be said easily.

"There are lies that hurt people, and lies that can {save} people." - Kido Jō, Digimon Adventure 02 (Japanese version); Ep. 16 "You, perfect and {a liar}, are 'like' a {genius idol}..." "I don't know anything about 'falling in love' with someone." For lyric{s}, check the following!: