#and yet HERE I AM. TAKING ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES. TO REPLY TO AN ASK. WITH THE BEE MOVIE SCRIPT.

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[fluentmoviequoter]

It's Commander, Sergeant

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army-FBI!reader

Summary: After years of thinking about Tim Bradford, you meet him again during a riot in Los Angeles. When he learns you outrank him, he falls... hard.

Warnings: incorrect Army terminology and actions, depiction of riots, fluff! a couple Call of Duty references. Also, I grew up ten minutes from Fort Rucker, so I'm allowed to trash talk it.

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

When you joined the Army immediately after graduation, you didn’t expect it to become a career. What surprised you more was meeting Tim Bradford. You only met him once, but he stayed with you, a firm and commanding yet protective and loyal personality that was impossible to forget. Now, years later, you continue to think about him occasionally, hoping he’s doing well and happy. He inspired you to work through the ranks and do something more meaningful than just obeying as you’re told. Not that being a soldier and taking orders is unimportant, as you’ve explained to the troops you are now Master Sergeant of. Personally, you felt a calling to do more.

“Master Sergeant, Sergeant Major Riley is here to see you,” a soldier says, standing at attention in your doorway.

“I’ll be right out to meet him. Thank you, Private,” you reply kindly.

You are a different kind of Master Sergeant, unwilling to act higher than the men and women who answer to you. Your respect for others, regardless of rank, has made you a favorite on base.

“No need. Is now a good time?” Riley asks, taking the Private’s place.

“Of course. What can I do for you, Sergeant Major Riley?”

“There’s a developing situation in Los Angeles. If you and your team are up for it, I’d like to send you in to help.”

“Los Angeles? Who has jurisdiction?”

Riley chuckles, shaking his head, as he says, “I knew that would be your first question. Not ‘what’s the situation?’ because that’s boring, right?”

“Something like that, sir.”

“The LAPD called in military reinforcements for an out-of-control rioting issue.”

“When do we leave?”

“1700 hours. Tell your troops.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s everyone enjoying US Army Garrison Italy?” you ask your team, composed of twenty of the best soldiers.

“The men- the view is beautiful, Master Sergeant,” one of the female soldiers says.

“I’d have to agree. But we’re heading back to the States. There’s a riot issue in Los Angeles and they’ve called for the best to come in and help.”

“Riot control? Now, we’re talkin’, ma’am!”

“Los Angeles, California?” someone asks.

“What other Los Angeles is there, man?” a second voice replies.

You clear your throat, and everyone in the room snaps to attention. Smiling, you nod and confirm that your destination is Los Angeles, California.

“We leave at 1700 sharp. Helos are standing by. And before you ask, no, I don’t know when or if we’ll be back. LAPD is running point on this - listen closely, we are assisting. This is about the safety of US citizens. Not proving grounds or a test to become a Ranger. They’re calling the shots, but you still answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” your team yells together.

“Then let’s get out there and protect our home.”

As you leave, someone whispers, “I’m gonna miss Italy.”

You agree, but your job is about more than the view from the base. As you pack to return to California, you wonder if you’ll ever be back to Italy.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Master Sergeant. Thank you for coming so quickly. I am Sergeant Wade Grey, I’m Watch Commander of the LAPD Mid-Wilshire division,” Grey introduces, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Tell us where you need us, and we’ll be there.”

“We’ve got six teams out there right now, covering what we consider the biggest targets, but I’ll get you in touch with my lead Sergeant.”

“Is he in the field? We’d be happy to meet him where he is and take his direction from there.”

Wade sighs, a relieved smile appearing on his face. “You’re the best person in the state right now, Master Sergeant. He’s at the Wilshire Federal Building, the intersection of Wilshire and the 405. We’re running short on equipment, but we can get you transport.”

“Oh, we’ve got a ride. And, Sergeant Grey, feel free to drop the formalities,” you offer before telling him your first name.

“Only if you call me Wade,” he replies. “Wait- don’t tell me you have an APC parked outside my station.”

“We don’t. We have an M113 APC, a light tank, and six more vehicles waiting for a destination. You called for riot control, and we’re going to control some riots.”

“If you ever get tired of the Army, the LAPD would be happy to have you.”

“Unless you can offer me a station in Italy and as many armored vehicles as I can drive, I think I’m happy where I am.”

“Fort Irwin is scenic.”

You walk backward as you exit the office, tilting your head to the side as you consider. “Italian oceanside or California desert. Guess which I’m picking?”

“Good luck out there.”

“Thank you, sir- Wade.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The moment you jump off the side of the APC, two LAPD officers rush to you and your group of four soldiers. Splitting your team into five groups and sending one to join each of the LAPD squadrons seemed to be the best option. One of your team members introduces you to an officer, who nods and ushers you to follow him.

“Master Sergeant, this is LAPD Sergeant-“

“Bradford?”

Tim tilts his chin, his eyes the only part of his face you can see past his helmet and shield. You’d know him anywhere after countless nights of thinking of him and being inspired by him.

“Have we met, Master Sergeant?” he asks, his voice raised over the crowd gathering on Wilshire Boulevard.

Someone throws a flaming bottle of alcohol toward the steps of the building, and you motion for your team to push the crowd back.

“Later, Sergeant Bradford. Care to tell me what’s going on?” you ask.

“LA courts decided to take a bunch of cases back to trial, deal with overcrowding, standard procedures. But… you get it.”

“Don’t want ‘em out or want to make sure they do get out. Yeah, I know the answer, though I’ve never understood the thought process behind it.”

“You and me both. What are we supposed to do to show them this won’t change anything?”

Glancing at the crowd, you weigh the options. “Realistically, getting violent is only going to make this worse. I’m not suggesting a negotiation, but… what if we try stopping?”

“We’re not setting down our arms and opening the gates for them to storm the Wilshire Federal Building!” Tim yells.

“Then what would you like to do? Stand here until the trials are done?”

“That’s not-“

“Look, I don’t want to pull rank but if you’re just going to stand here and argue with me, I will, Sergeant Bradford,” you reply. His jaw clenches beneath his helmet, and you offer, “Half of your men lower their shields, a show of good faith. Then we go from there.”

Tim lowers his shield, stepping toward you to threaten, “If anything happens to my men, it is on your hands. This isn’t your home, but it’s mine.”

“I understand how this works, Sergeant Bradford. And I’m not telling you to do it alone.”

You push past him, leading two soldiers to the front line, dropping your shield, and raising your hands. The crowd members closest to you stop, looking at you curiously.

“There is a court schedule available online!” you yell. “If you have a loved one that you would like to advocate for, call the courts, call their defenders, and tell them why someone is worthy of freedom at the proper time and place! But don’t risk your own freedom, don’t take the lives of your neighbors or your peace officers in the process!”

You signal for all of the officers to raise their shields again. As the crowd storms forward, you rush into the fray, letting your training take over as you disarm the citizens around you.

“Down on the ground!” you yell, panting as the tank approaches behind you.

At the sight of the tank, the men and women standing in the road begin kneeling, lowering their weapons, and raising their hands. The LAPD rush forward, doing their jobs as you send your team to give your orders to the other soldiers you brought back to the States.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Tim says, approaching from behind you.

Turning toward him, you sigh and remove your helmet. “Lots of things shouldn’t work, Sergeant Bradford.”

“You know my name; care to tell me why?”

Pressing your lips together to hide your smile, you walk past him, calling over your shoulder to say, “Never expected I’d have a higher ranking than you, Sarge!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is the Master Sergeant here?” Tim asks as he enters the bullpen.

“She’s with her team, briefing their superiors.” Wade smiles before asking, “Why would you like to know?”

“She knew my name. I can’t place her though.”

“She’s Army, you were Army… think about it, Tim.”

“I met hundreds of people in the Army, Wade-“

“Not all of them stay in the Army and work their way through the rankings because you inspired them,” you say, standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Wade says, adding your first name while looking toward Tim.

Tim looks past you, clearly trying to place your name.

“I met you my first year, we were only in the same room for a few minutes and didn’t say more than a few words to each other. But you inspired me. You were a good soldier, a better leader, and I wanted to do what you did.”

“And now you’re a sergeant?”

Smiling, you correct, “It’s Master Sergeant, Sergeant.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“You got a little drool right there,” Angela jokes, pointing to the corner of Tim’s mouth. “What’s so special about her?”

“She outranks me,” Tim answers.

“Okay. Lots of people do.”

“Yeah,” Wade adds from Tim’s other side. “You don’t look at me like that.”

“No offense, Wade, but you’re not as pretty,” Angela replies.

Tim shushes them suddenly, nodding when you turn and see him. You smile at him, yet again drawn in by Tim Bradford’s presence and leadership. His not trusting you at first, yelling at you, was somewhat unexpected, but you’ve been in his place before. Trusting people as soon as you meet them is difficult, often impossible in your profession, but Tim’s quick change makes you smile. You’re a good leader, like him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got a problem,” Wade calls, ending a phone call. “There’s another riot at Cal State Prison. LAPD and Lancaster PD can’t handle it alone.”

“We can never make it there in time,” Nolan responds. “It’s nearly 2 hours without traffic.”

“Now would be a good time to get a private jet or something, Thorsen,” Angela calls.

You pull your phone from your pocket, typing quickly before nodding. “I need Bradford,” you tell Wade. “And your landing pad.”

“What did you do?” Tim asks.

“Sikorsky X2 is five minutes out. We can get there and drop in 20 or less.” You raise a finger to point to everyone in the room. “This stays here. I’m not supposed to know the Army has one stateside.”

“Has a what?” Aaron asks.

“Good answer.”

“It only holds two crew members, but I’ve got a team out there that can ride in a cargo area. We’re going to need backup, so if you can get airships or anything, Sergeant Grey, please do. Let’s roll.”

Tim follows you quickly, jogging to catch up with you. “How’d you pull this off?”

“Somebody owed me a favor.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That I inspired you to stay in the Army, to get here.”

“Oh.” You push open a door and begin climbing the stairs quickly. Stepping onto the roof, you look at Tim and say, “Ask me again when this is over.”

Tim waits until you turn away to smile. He can’t believe he forgot you, but your sacrificial, mutually beneficial leadership style, kindness, and abilities, not to mention that you outrank him, have him practically wrapped around your finger.

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing in the back of a helicopter and hooked to a rail, you lean out against the whipping air and feel weightless. The pain and concern of the day are wearing off, and as the sun sets, you’re glad you were asked to come to LA. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath.

Tim taps your side, and when he has your attention, he points West. The ocean is now visible, and the light ripples over the water, reflecting the pastel colors painting the sky. You smile at the view before looking back to Tim. Reaching up, you adjust the channel dial on his headset. He doesn’t even flinch at your sudden movement, and your smile grows as he leans toward you.

Looking at the soldiers behind you, you say, “If I think any of you can hear me, I’ll have you transferred to the worst base I can think of.”

No one except for Tim reacts, and he chuckles quietly.

“Okay, ask me again,” you request into your microphone.

“Did you really stay in the Army because of me?”

“Yes. You showed me what was possible, but your kindness toward me made me think I could do it too.”

“You could’ve done it without me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Easy, Sergeant.”

“It’s-“

“Master Sergeant… when this illegally obtained helicopter lands, would you go to dinner with me?”

A soldier to your left moves, and you shake your head. “After this illegally obtained helo lands, and I have Henderson transferred to hot and humid Fort Rucker, Alabama, I would love to go to dinner with you.”

“Since you outrank me, surely you get paid better, so it’s on you?”

You lean toward Tim, pausing when your headset hits his. “I could also go back to Italy and see if anyone there is willing to take me to dinner.”

“Fine,” Tim groans. “I’ll pay, but only if you stay in town long enough to show me how much my inspiration paid off.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The dinner date does not go as planned. When you enter the police station, Sergeant Major Riley awaits you. He takes you into Wade’s office to talk, and Tim stands outside waiting for you.

Being a soldier means being sent to different places with only a moment’s notice, but being at your level makes things far more difficult and irregular. Tim may have missed his chance.

“Any idea what that’s about?” Tim asks Wade.

“No clue.”

You exit a moment later, your previous smile now absent. Tim tries to hide his disappointment, but he should have known getting into a relationship with a younger, yet higher ranking, soldier would never work.

“I blame you,” you tell Wade, stopping before him and Tim.

“What did I do?” he asks incredulously.

“You said there was an opening at Irwin, but you didn’t say that you only knew that because my Sergeant Major told you.”

“He may have mentioned it.”

“Anyone want to loop me in?” Tim asks tiredly.

“I’m moving to California. Leaving Italy behind to lead a new force,” you answer sadly. “No more authentic pasta for me.”

“Wait- you’re moving to California? Irwin, which is three hours from here?” Tim interjects.

“It’s your fault too,” you remember. “I let you inspire me to be a good leader and a good teacher, but now I’m paying for it.”

Riley calls your name, beckoning you back into the office. The second time you exit, you seem a bit more pleased.

“Is the offer for that date still on the table?” you ask Tim. “Looks like my team is going to be in LA county for a few days before I can get discharged.”

"Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about? You're getting out?" Tim asks, raising his hands in question.

"I'm receiving another raise in rank," you tell Tim, grabbing his extended wrist and pulling him toward the door. "But not in the Army."

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯ 1 Year Later ✯✯

“Your form needs some work, but there’s potential,” you say.

“My, uh, my recruiter said that you take potential and make talent,” the recruit before you says.

Standing, you smile. “I like to think so. But I can’t do anything without your effort. So, are you willing to put in the work to do your best?”

“Yes, ma’am, Commander.”

“Then I only have one more question. Why do you want to join FBI special operations?”

“Commander,” someone scoffs from the doorway. “It’s like you take pride in increasing the divide between our ranks.”

Glancing over, you make a “shoo” gesture before finishing the recruit’s evaluation.

“Let’s go,” you tell Tim, gathering your things. “It’s been almost a year, and we still haven’t had an uninterrupted dinner date.”

“I’m not sure we ever will, Sarge.”

You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, brushing your lips over his before whispering, “It’s Commander, Sergeant.”

[killxz]

Valentine's Day 💌

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

a/n: happy valentine's day! i rushed to get this finished by today

You wait, tapping your finger against the wood of the table impatiently. Where was Jason? He was late, again.

"Are you ready to order, ma'am?" The waiter asked you.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, not yet. I'm still waiting for someone," You say to the waiter sheepishly. The waiiter gave you an understanding nod before leaving. You whipped out your phone, beginning to furiously text Jason's phone.

Me: Where are you?

No reply. You sigh, fustrated. You decided to order a drink first while waiting for Jason. You were rightously annoyed. It's not like he was late to every date, but there was a few times he was considerably late. When your drink arrived, you sipped on t, eyes darting across your surroundings to see if Jason would appear. You checked your phone. No reply. You tsked and put your phone facedown on the table. So much for having a sweet valentines day.

As you sipped on your drink, the bitterness of the coffee matched the tinge of disappointment settling in. The ambiance of the cafe seemed to mock the absence of Jason, and the minutes continued to slip away.

You glanced at your phone again, still met with the silent screen. Frustration morphed into a more somber realization that your Valentine's Day plans were unravelling. The warmth of the cafe felt insufficient to dispel the chill of disappointment.

Taking another sip, you debated whether to wait a bit longer or cut your losses. The sounds of conversations around you became a distant hum as you replayed the scenarios in your mind, wondering why Jason hadn't shown up or responded.

The waiter approached once more, this time with a sympathetic smile. "Are you ready to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?" they inquired.

You sighed, "I'll give it a little more time. Thank you."

As you gazed out the cafe window, the city lights twinkling in the evening, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness amidst the Valentine's Day festivities around you.

After waiting for about 30 more minutes, you gave up and gathered up your things, slamming a twenty on the table to pay for your drink and tip the patient, sympathetic waiter.

Just as you gathered your things to leave, the door to the cafe swung open. Startled, you turned to see Jason rushing in, panting. His hair was tousled and he was breathing heavily. The panic on his face was obvious, and he quickly scanned the room until his eyes met yours. He shouted your name.

"Wait, don't go!" he exclaimed, breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late! I really am. There was something going on at work and my phone died-I'm really sorry!" Jason felt scared. He was so scared that you would leave him, like his parents, like Bruce when he died.

With shaking hands, he thrust a boquet of your favourite flowers and a box of Godiva chocolates into your bewildered hands. "I'm...sorry, please don't break up with me." He mumbled.

"Break up with you...? Why-why would I do that?" You were stumped. Sure, you and Jason had been dating for years, but does he rreally think that you would break up with him over this?

"Because...because I was late and made you mad," Jason gave you puppy dog eyes. You chuckled to yourself. For being a big, jacked vigilante, Jason can be a big baby sometimes, and that's what you love about him. He always lets his guard down around you.

"I'm not mad anymore," You assured him, hugging the flowers and chocolates closer to yourself. "You're here now, that's all that matters." You got up on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheeks. Shifting the gifts toone hand, you grabbed his hand with your free hand. "Come on, let's go sit."

Jason's hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you on the lips. The kiss was long and deep, causing others to stare. When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your red cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 3)

If you guys like it, I would greatly appreciate a reblog, it helps spread this fanfic around🫶

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest Part 3 is here!!

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You weren't sure how things would go with Billy after that night. Technically, you still owe him for the day at the museum, There are parts of Hawkins he hadn’t seen yet. Plus, you hadn’t talked about when or if you’d see each other again outside of school. So, it's a surprise when the following week, as you're grabbing books from your locker, you feel a presence behind you—the warmth of someone's body lightly brushing against your back. You look up and see a hand resting on your locker. Turning around, you met his curious and slightly amused eyes. 

"Oh! Hey, you scared me…”

"I saw that," he replies. "Am I that ugly?"

You stay still, feeling the cold metal of the locker against your back, aware that some students are probably watching you. But Billy doesn't seem bothered by this; if anything, he seems indifferent. He's wearing the same black leather jacket he lent you the other night, over a partially unbuttoned black shirt. He knows he’s not ugly, and you know he’s teasing you. But his closeness throws you off, and you can’t find the words to play along. You stumble over a nonsensical and incomplete sentence. Meanwhile, he takes the books from your hands and moves his hand away from the locker, finally giving you space, and it feels like you can breathe again.

"Physics?" he asks, looking at the first book on the pile in his hands.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to close your locker, taking the opportunity to pull yourself together. "It's my first class, actually."

"Sweet. I'll walk you there."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." You struggle to hide your astonishment as you walk toward the classroom with him beside you.

And during the following days, he does the same. He makes it seem so natural that it slowly becomes routine for you. In history class, he sits next to you. During lunch break, you sit at the table at the back of the cafeteria. He always sits at a table next to Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunningham, and other popular jocks, but between bites of food, he always gives you a look. Eventually, at the end of the meal, he always gets up from their table and comes over to sit beside you. In history class, he always sits next to you. Strangely, Tommy Hagan makes no comment. After the first few times, the rest of the class seems to get used to it.

When the history teacher assigns the paired presentation on "The Role of Propaganda in World War II," the teacher lets you choose your partner. Billy and you are already sitting next to each other, so it’s automatic that you’ll work together. Part of you doubt he would choose to work with you if he wasn’t sitting next to you, but you decide not to think about it too much. You don’t mind the idea of working with him on the project. He offers to work on it at his place the following Saturday, as his dad and stepmom are in California for family matters.

It takes you twenty minutes to reach Cherry Lane. Billy’s house is about halfway there. His navy blue Camaro is parked out front, and as you approach, you see him on the opposite side of the car, rubbing a sponge against the back window. It’s warmer than usual, and he’s wearing a white tank top with basketball shorts. He notices you approaching and greets you with a nod, a cigarette clutched between his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet back. You see a young red-haired girl walking past Billy. She has a skateboard under her arm, baggy jeans, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. She sees you, momentarily startled, and slows down, her blue eyes scanning you with detachment. Billy walks in the open garage, leaving you alone with her. You greet her with a hesitant wave of your hand, introducing yourself.

“I’m Max,” she replies. She must be Billy’s stepsister. He mentioned her a couple of times.

“Did you bring the books?” Billy returns with a bucket of water, setting it down beside the car.

You lift your linen shoulder bag slightly, indicating that your books are in there.

You feel Max’s eyes on you. Her blue eyes soften slightly, and she seems to recognize something. “You’re the girl who called last week, right?”

"Yes, that's me," you nod with a small smile. 

Max nods in acknowledgment, silently. She then sets the skater down on the ground. “You’re the first one who comes over to actually study.” 

An embarrassed smile breaks out on your face at her innuendo and you look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. The image of Billy with a girl while...no, you can't think about it.

“Piss off, Max,” Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he squeezes the sponge over the bucket, then jostles it twice to get rid of the water before scrubbing the windshield. 

Max rolls her eyes, but steps on her skateboard. She gives you a small smile. “See you.”

“Bye, Max.” you watch her skate away along the road.

“And don’t go too far,” Billy calls over the roof of the Camaro.

For a moment you get lost watching how the muscles of his back move under the tank top as he rubs the side of the car sponge.

“Almost done.” he calls over his shoulder. 

“You’re taking good care of it.” you observe as you approach the car, your hands tucked into your back pockets.

“You bet your sweet life I do. This baby cost me a good amount of money.” 

“When did you buy it?” you lean against the tree near the uneven stone steps leading up to the entrance of his house.

Billy takes the cigarette from between his lips, puffing some smoke into the air. “I was sixteen. Worked at a garage near my house for a couple of years before that. The owner found her after being on the hunt for months. She had roughly 10,000 miles on her already and was a little banged up. So, I had to use my savings and kept working there for a few months to pay for the repairs.”

He puts the cigarette back between his lips and pours the bucket of water over the car, washing off the soap. Then he takes a few steps backward until he’s next to you as he takes in the newly washed car.

“Not bad, huh?” 

“She’s really pretty.” you confirm with a nod. 

You've never been particularly enthused with cars, but you must admit that Billy's Camaro stands out in Hawkins. Moreover, the care he takes of it only enhances its shiny navy blue colour.

“Just like you.” 

You turn toward him, caught by surprise by his comment. As you do, he’s just taking the cigarette from his mouth after another drag, his eyes revealing a faint warmth that’s hard to perceive, blurred by the seemingly bored look his long lashes give him. But you see it. Even if for a second, you see it. The smoke curls lazily around him.

He luckily saves you from any clumsy answer, jerking his chin toward the house. “Come on, let’s get inside.”  

You hum while nodding in obligement, walking toward the house so he can avoid your flustered expression. Billy follows closely behind you, resting his hand on the back of your neck as you walk up the stone steps. He’s been doing that quite a few times. It’s nothing crazy, not an open hug or anything, but to you, his touch makes your heart glow and fills you with a comforting warmth. The house has a front screened porch, where two plants in a pot rest on the floor. You spot a grey rocking chair on the right side. 

“I like it.” you say. You wish you had a porch.

“Yeah, sometimes Max sits over there to read.” 

It’s a simple house, you notice, with modest furnishings. You both walk into Billy’s room, and you take in your surroundings. It’s a simple room. Apart from his bed, a few pieces of furniture, a mirror, and a wardrobe, there are things distinctly him that give the room character and warmth. Hanging on the wall are posters of bands like Metallica and Mötley Crüe. You also notice a stereo with two speakers. On the fireplace, there are some books.

“You brought it with you?” you ask with a smile, pointing to a yellow surfboard fading to green, leaning against the wall.

Billy sits on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. “Yes. It was out of the question for me to leave it in Cali.” with a wave of his hand, he invites you to come and sit next to him. 

You sit gingerly on the bed, books on your lap as he pops a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and offers you one. You take it, thanking him. Sitting so close, the warmth of his body seems to transfer directly from his thigh to yours.

“Are you gonna go back?” you ask, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You pull your pencil case and a notepad out of your bag.

Billy snorts. “Hell yeah. I’m not staying here.”

It shouldn’t, but his statement stings a little. At the end of the school year, he will leave. After all, it was a foregone conclusion. There’s nothing to keep him here; his home is in California. He never told you specifically why he moved here. You had asked, jokingly, if his parents wanted "a change of air," and he had replied, ‘Something like that,’ without adding any explanation. So you had not pressed the issue any further. You learned that about certain things, Billy did not feel like talking. He clams up even more. If he wants to, you decide, he will open up to you.

“Yeah, I get it.” 

“Might work during the summer to save some money, though.” 

“There’s a garage downtown.” you offer, remembering what he said earlier.

“I was thinking more about the pool. Heard they pay very well.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah. Heather works there during summers,” he says, grabbing the history book from his bedside table and putting it on his lap.

“Heather Holloway?”’ you ask, your finger lingering along the edge of your notepad. 

There is only one Heather at school. Billy must be talking about her. She’s a pretty girl who comes from a good family. Her dad owns the Hawkins Post. She’s got it all.

“Yeah, you know her?”

“Oh, not directly. But yes, I know her. Her dad is pretty respected in town.” you bite your lip, fighting the urge to ask how he knows her. Are they friends? Did he date her? Is he still dating her?

You conclude it's none of your business, and thinking about it makes you feel weird. So you change the subject, finally opening the book and proposing to start working on the project. In between, you see Max walking past his room from the open door, her skateboard under her arm. After an hour of working, Billy stretches and a yawn escapes you. He lights a cigarette, inspiring a long puff of smoke, and titls his head up, looking at the ceiling. When he exhales, he also seems to sigh with relief. You realize how much smoking seems to be a way for him to relax, a need. 

“When did you start smoking?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Then immediately rush on adding “If you don’t mind me asking”.

“Must’ve been fourteen.” he says, “A friend of mine, Wayne, had been smoking for a year or so. Tried from his cig’ once, never went a day without smoking from there.” 

You hum pensively. 

Billy lolls his head to the side, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “You must think I’m fucking up my health, huh?”

“No, no.” you shake your head. Then you reconsider. “I mean…yes,” at which Billy starts laughing, a low gravelly laugh. “But, I know it must be hard to stop too, once you start. I can’t know, I’ve never tried.”

A second later, his cigarette appears in front of your eyes. He arches an eyebrow at you, looking at you expectantly. 

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Ah, come on. It’s not like you’re gonna get addicted after one drag. Live a little.” he gently nudges your thigh with his. 

You look at the cigarette with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You've always wanted to try it, not because you want to start smoking, but just to confirm if it tastes bad so you can put the thought to rest.

“Okay. Just once, though.” you gingerly take the cigarette from between his fingers, holding it awkwardly and feeling as if it might fall off any second. You bring it to your lips, feeling his eyes on you. 

“Take it slow.”

It’s easier said than done. As soon as you breathe in the smoke, the end of the cigarette burning bright orange wildly, your lungs get filled with an unbearably burning sensation. You feel on fire. You can’t breathe. You start coughing non-repeatedly, your vision going blurred. 

Billy laughs again, taking the cigarette from your fingers as you try to fill your lungs with air. “Jesus, I said to take it slow.” 

Your face turns red from the effort, and your eyes water. You can't help but glare at him briefly as tears escape, your nose scrunching in disgust. He reaches out with his other hand, cups the side of your face, and gently brushes your tears away with his thumb.

“Breathe, now,” he says between chuckles.

“I don’t like it. It’s gross.” 

You say it both because you mean it and because it keeps you grounded under his touch. When he settles back against the wall, your heart keeps hammering against your ribcage.

"You're cute," he says before taking a drag, as if he's talking about the weather, and it only makes your flush an impossibly darker shade of red.

After he finishes his cigarette, Billy asks if you're hungry. You both head into the kitchen, and you sit at the table while he makes tuna sandwiches. He tells you it was the first thing he learned to make for himself when he was younger, back when his father used to work late before marrying Max's mother. He had to fend for himself. Over time, he learned to cook more dishes, especially when his father and stepmother were away for the weekend or running errands. A few years ago, he started weightlifting, which motivated him to learn even more about cooking. Despite all that, he still enjoys tuna sandwiches. Billy puts the sandwiches in the toaster and serves them to you on plates. As you take a bite, the taste of pickles and mayonnaise gives it an extra kick. It's delicious.

“Hey, can you make me one too?” Max emerges from the hallway, leaning against the kitchen doorway. 

Billy looks up from the cutting board he’s chopping pickles on as he makes his own sandwich, scowling at her. “Make it yourself.”

“Come on, you know I’m not good at this.”

“Well, you better learn how to make it. It’s a fucking tuna sandwich, not rocket science.” 

Max sighs, almost exasperated. "Fine, you stubborn ass. I’ll make it myself, but don’t cry to me when your precious pickles are all gone."

Billy looks up, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Hey! Language," he chides, pointing the knife in her direction, as if he hadn't sworn himself just a moment ago. He then gestures toward the empty chair beside you. "And sit down, if you want me to do it.”

Max quietly sits down next to you, a cheeky smile plastered on her face. Billy mutters under his breath, resuming chopping down the pickles. 

“With loads of mayo, please.” 

You’ve never seen Billy in a step-brother role before, and the dynamic between them is intriguing. You're suddenly curious about their relationship and how it has evolved since they first met.

“You’re lucky I’m even making this for you,” he grumbles, spreading the mayo generously on the bread.

“This is really good.” you say, pointing at your sandwich. 

“Yeah, Billy’s tuna sandwiches are rad.” Maxine approves. Then she shrugs. “He's an asshole, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's cooking.”

“Woah, thanks Maxine.” he ironically says. “Really portraying me well here.” 

You chuckle softly under your breath as Max ignores him, carrying on. “Can I go to Family Video later? I need to give back the movies.”

“Later when?” he asks as he assembles her sandwich. “We gotta work on the school project.”

“Like, in an hour?” 

“You’ll have to wait ‘till I drop her home.” 

Max huffs. “C’mon, Billy. I can skate there, it’s mid afternoon.”

“Ain’t no way I’m letting you go there on your own. It’s on my ass that Neil will be then.”

“I’ll be back before they’re home!” she tries again. “And I’ll bring back some good stuff.” 

You watch as Billy sighs heavily, walking in silence over to the table and setting Max’s dish in front of her. Then he points his finger at her, looking at her hard. “I’m warning you. If you’re not back here by four we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Max mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, jeez, okay” as Billy walks back toward the counter.

He shoots a mildly warning look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting sharply. “And you better bring back some good stuff this time.”

Max gasps in outragement. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“It was crap.” 

Max turns toward you. “Have you watched Children of the Corn?”

“I don’t think I have.” you say. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a horror movie.”  

“Oh. I don’t really watch horror movies.” you smile sheepishly.  “Too scary, I can’t sleep for months then. I’m more into comedies or romances.”

“Those aren’t bad once in a while.” Max agrees. “We mostly watch horrors, but sometimes we happen to watch romances too.”

“You watch rom-coms,” Billy stresses out, as he adds the tuna-mayonnaise mix to his toast. 

“Please. How many times did you stay on the couch until the end?

“That’s because the NBA played later at night.” 

Max arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, really? And what about all those times you pretended to get a snack from the fridge, and I caught you hanging around in the hallway, peeking at the screen?"

“Are you eating or not?” Billy cuts her, “Tic tac, shitbird. You better hurry to the videostore before I change my mind.”

It’s hard for you to hold your laugh. You look down at your plate at your half-eaten sandwich, hearing him approaching with his plate.

Max huffs loudly, standing and grabbing her plate. “Whatever. See you.”

She waves at you before disappearing in the hallway. 

“See you, Max.”

Billy sits down beside you with a sigh, taking the spot where Max was just sitting. He immediately starts eating his sandwich, and you notice he eats much faster than you. You try not to let your eyes linger on his biceps as he leans forward to take another big bite, crumbs falling onto his plate. You repeat to him that his sandwich is really good, mentioning that when you make it at home, it’s usually dry and tasteless. You just don’t know how to combine the right things, and it gets boring.

“She seems to care about you a lot,” you observe as you both finish eating, referring to Max.

Billy rubs the back of his neck, a sigh leaving his lips. Then he leans back on the chair. “Yeah. Things weren’t, ah…things are better now.”

“You didn’t get along at first?” you tentatively ask.   

“Yeah, not really. Moving together was tough. But I was a dick back then.”

“You?”

You can kind of see it, but the person he’s shown to you is the opposite of what he’s describing. 

“Believe me, sweetheart.” he shakes his head, a rueful smirk on his face. "I'm no saint now, but you're lucky we didn't meet when I was younger.”

“I’m sure you didn’t have it easy.” you offer. 

“Well, Max didn’t either. Her dad doesn’t give a crap about her, her mom only dated assholes before my old man. Then she meets him, thinks she hit the jackpot, turns out he can compete against all of the previous ones together. They really found each other.”

“Is she bad?”

Billy shrugs. “Nah, just weak. And Neil has his way easy with weak people. He found the right woman to mold between his hands like he wants to.”

You listen to him attentively, your hand supporting your head as you rest your elbow on the table, facing him. Neil must be his dad. There’s always some distance, and coldness in the way he speaks about him. He never once referred to him as his dad. 

“It must’ve been hard for her…” you recognize. “Especially being that young.”

Billy stands, grabbing the three dishes as he grimaces. “Yeah, I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I completely overlooked that,” he says as he drops them in the sink, and then starts washing them. You stand up and bring him the two empty glasses. “Just didn’t want any of that crap. Moving in with these people I’ve barely seen a couple of times and act like a happy little family. Fuck that.” 

“Then the move…” you supply. 

"Then the move. Blamed her for all of it. Especially for the move, when in reality the whole thing was my fault. But yeah." 

Your eyes fall on his hand, noticing the harsh way he’s scrubbing the glasses with the sponge. You wonder what happened. What caused the move? What could Billy have done? You don’t want to press on it further, realizing how you could easily touch a sensitive nerve.

“Well, you seem to take good care of her. And I see how she looks at you.”

You could swear for a moment he's caught off guard, almost uncomfortable. Then he sniffs, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes wandering outside the kitchen window. "Yeah, trying to make up for all of it. It’s best to stick together in this crazy house."

There is something about all of this that puts you on edge, makes your skin prickle. Something unsettling is happening in this family. There are subtle but numerous hints you pick up on in your interactions with Billy. It's a month later that you uncover the ugly truth.

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A couple of weeks later May finally arrives, bringing longer days and warmer weather. You can already breathe in the summer air. The trailer park seems a little less gloomy now, with trees in bloom and green grass. In the evening, you hear crickets singing from the open hayloft in the kitchen or your room. On clear, sunny weekends, you and Billy go to Lovers Lake. It's not warm enough to swim yet, but you lie on the shore or on one of the deserted docks. You often do your homework or read while Billy smokes a cigarette or dozes. Your relationship has progressed; you feel much more comfortable around him. Though you don't know each other completely yet, you've gone out enough times to welcome the occasional silence, which no longer frightens you. Slowly, you feel yourself shedding layers of your shell. You think you can consider yourselves friends.

You were supposed to hang out that morning. He was meant to come over to study at your place before heading to Lovers Lake as planned. However, today, the familiar rumble of the Camaro doesn't show up. After a few hours of hesitation, you try calling his house. A man answers, presumably Billy's dad, and informs you that Billy is not home. The rest of the day passes in anxious waiting, but Billy never arrives. You try to push away thoughts of the worst-case scenario, but as the hours drag on, those fears keep creeping back. By Sunday, still no word from him. Billy has always been the opposite of what you expected—he never ignored you at school, never stood you up. Yet now, your fear seems to be materializing. Perhaps he's grown tired of you and found more captivating company. You wonder what you could possibly offer him. You're not as interesting or outgoing as his basketball team friends, nor do you provide the same entertainment as the high school girls he's dated, or might still be dating. Perhaps he's realized that after delving beneath the surface, there's nothing particularly captivating about you.

At dinner, your dad notices something is bothering you and asks what's wrong. You barely touch your plate, feeling like an amoeba. But he's dead tired from his factory shift, and you don't want to burden him with your worries, so you lie and tell him that you're not feeling well. Later, he rises from the sofa, gives you a kiss on the head, and advises you not to stay up too late before retiring to his room. Despite the sound of the TV in the background, you feel lonelier than ever, and the resignation settling over you is almost worse than the whirlwind of emotions you've experienced all day. Hours pass, and you start to doze off curled up on the sofa, the movie you started barely catching your attention. Then, you're jolted awake by the roar of a familiar engine outside the trailer. It's as if a shot of adrenaline has pierced through your lethargy. You sit up abruptly, heart racing, straining your ears to confirm what you've heard. The noise ceases, prompting you to hurry to the door, moving slowly to avoid disturbing your sleeping dad. Your heart skips a beat when, through the window, you spot Billy's familiar silhouette in the dim light cast by the bulb outside.

When you open the door, Billy seems momentarily surprised to see you. As if he didn't expect you to open it so promptly. But then that expression is washed away by his usual smirk.

“You sure were waiting for me, huh?”

You stifle a gasp of horror at the sight of his bruised and battered face, instinctively bringing your hands to your mouth to muffle any sound that might wake your father. To say he's in a bad state would be an understatement.

"Oh my God, Billy."

Closing the front door softly behind you, you step out into the night air, standing in front of him, your concern palpable.

"Good to see you too," he jokes, but his playful expression fades as he realizes his attempt to lighten the mood isn't working.

"Oh God..."

You draw closer, taking in his state. There’s an angry bruise around his left eye, dark purple and almost black, with hints of red and blue around the edges, swollen and puffy. Traces of dried blood linger around his nostrils, and his nose is swollen, the bridge as purple as the area under his eye.

"It's fine," he says.

"Sorry... can I just..." setting aside your shyness, you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head slightly backward. You won’t fail to notice his small wince as you do so. His lip is cut and swollen. "Does it hurt a lot?"

“Nah. It’s okay.”

"What happened?" you ask softly as you brush his chin with your thumb, almost afraid of causing him further pain.

Billy doesn't seem concerned at all, contrasting with your likely alarmed expression. He looks almost unfazed, the corners of his eyes crinkling into his usual amused expression.

"Got into a fight with a guy. He was just drunk, and I was there."

You frown in confusion. "Were you... at a bar or something?"

"Yeah, I uh...at the pub downtown. Just happened to cross paths with him. He thought I was looking at his girl or something."

"A major dick," you mutter under your breath, your eyes still scanning his cut. It looks deep, like the blood struggled to stop flowing. There's still some dried blood on his chin.

Billy chuckles, then after a moment, he speaks quietly, "Yeah, a major dick. Got him good, though."

“You didn’t clean it. It’s going to get infected, I’ll quickly get…”

“S’fine, really.” while exhaling a sigh through his nose, his hand encircles your wrists, prying yours gently away. 

You lower your gaze to his hands to examine the damage there. But that’s when you notice it. His knuckles are completely fine. There isn’t a single cut on them.

“Billy…” you hold his hands, then look at him.

He seems to pick up on what you’re thinking because he pulls his hands away, scratching his nose with his knuckles, acting as nonchalant as ever. You notice how his hands seem to twitch, like he’s got this nervousness he can’t shake off. As if he’s itching for something. Itching for a smoke. 

“I’m gonna clean it when I get home. Wanna go to the quarry? I’ve got some sweets Max forgot in the car earlier,” he suggests, nodding towards the Camaro parked behind him at the beginning of the trailer park. It's likely he didn’t want to wake anyone, especially your dad, given how late it is.

“But…”

“Sweetheart. Please,” he cuts you off. You freeze in place at the harsher tone of his last word. Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. “M’sorry. Can we just not talk about it?” he looks tired, but not physically tired—mentally tired. You can sense the exhaustion in his gaze, a silent plea underlying his question.

A twist forms in your stomach as the reality sinks in. It confirms that something very wrong, something dark, is happening in his life. You begin to reflect on how you might have overlooked the signs. You feel the urge to ask him if the person causing him harm is who you suspect. You want to help him. But you push down those thoughts and emotions.

“Okay. Okay, of course,” you softly say. “Can I just go and grab the first-aid kit before we leave? Please.”

Billy clenches his jaw and looks away. You can see how hard this must be for him, and the last thing you want is for him to feel like he can't be vulnerable around you. 

“All right.” he finally says.

After quietly retrieving the first aid kit, you get into the car with Billy. You’re not too worried about your father waking up since he sleeps like a rock, and it’s a Friday night after all. The car ride to the quarry is unusually silent. You try to break the ice by asking Billy how the basketball game went a few days ago or how Max liked the movie you recommended the last time you saw her. However, Billy responds with noncommittal short answers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Something must be weighing heavily on his mind. Sensing his mood, you decide to fill the silence by sharing what you’ve been up to lately. You mention that your father's co-worker, Wayne Munson, who lives in the trailer right across the street, came over for coffee the other day. Wayne has a son who’s a year or two older than you. You’ve never really talked to him, as he tends to keep to himself, but he seems nice enough. Now that the weather is warmer, you often see him sitting on the porch of his trailer, either smoking or reading a book. He always greets you when you walk by or take out the trash. You know he struggled in school, having flunked twice in his senior year, but he graduated last year and now works as a mechanic downtown. Talking about the mechanic job seems to catch Billy’s interest. You remind him of the conversation you had a while back when he mentioned wanting to work as a mechanic during the summer. Billy starts to loosen up and tells you that he plans to stop by the car shop in the next few days.

On this warm night, the air is balmy and filled with the earthy scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh foliage. As he has a couple of times before, Billy parks the car near the edge of the quarry, just where the thick line of trees begins. Gravel crunches softly under the tires, the only sound of the quiet evening.

The towering trees cast shadows blurred in the moonlight, their leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. Before he can say anything, you open the first-aid kit on your lap and gently shush him when he objects. As you gently clean the dried blood around his nostrils and the cut on his lip with an antiseptic wipe, Billy winces slightly but doesn’t pull away. You then apply a bit of the antibiotic ointment to the wounds to prevent infection. Finally, you use a gauze pad to gently dab at the bruised areas, careful not to press too hard. Throughout the process, Billy remains mostly silent, his eyes closed, occasionally taking a deep breath. The temperature feels good outside, so once you’re finished you both get out of the car. Billy rounds the car and sits on the ground with a wince, resting his back against the side of the car. So you do the same. You stand in front of the quarry. Under the pale light of the crescent moon, the quarry walls loom like ancient sentinels, their rough surfaces casting long, mysterious shadows. The water at the bottom of the quarry is a dark, mirror-like expanse, reflecting the twinkling stars above.

"Here," Billy says, holding up some green candy canes along with a pack of cigarettes. It looks different from his usual pack of Marlboro Reds, but you don’t think much of it initially.

"What flavor is it?" you ask, taking one of the candies from the packet.

"Must be sour apple."

As you begin to chew, the taste of apple indeed invades your taste buds. From the corner of your eye, you see Billy pull a cigarette out of the pack, then hear him swear.

"Shit." Billy curses. "That's a candy. Didn’t even notice it."

You see the candy cigarette between Billy's fingers and an amused chuckle escapes your lips.

"Don't worry, it's an easy mistake. Guess even tough guys can mix up their vices sometimes."

That makes him snort a quiet laugh, and even if it’s without a real smile and it’s short-lived, you managed to make him laugh a bit.

Billy leans his head against the metal of the Camaro, his hand holding the lighter dropping to his thigh. "They must be in the car."

He must be referring to his cigarettes. You remain silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether to offer to go get them for him. You look at his tired profile: eyes closed, head resting against the car, throat exposed, Adam's apple slightly prominent. Looking at his bruised face makes your stomach twist with concern, your heart sinking. At least his wounds are clean now. You feel the urge to reach out and brush aside the curl that falls over his eye. But you don’t. Instead, your gaze shifts to the quarry.

“You’ve been really smoking a lot, Billy.” 

Your words slip out quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the fragile balance of the evening. You’ve observed Billy smoking ever since you met him. Lately, though, you’ve noticed how his fingers are more often occupied by a cigarette than free of it. You’ve seen his nervous fidgeting in class—how he jitters his knee, taps the rubber end of his pencil on the desk, scratches his stubble with his knuckles, and frequently shifts position in his chair. And now, whenever you’re together, he’s pulling one out from his pack at least once.

Billy opens his eyes slightly, glancing at you. He sighs and looks away, his expression hardening a bit. "Yeah, well, it helps," he says gruffly, but there's a hint of something softer in his voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll cut back... someday."

He sees the probably worried look on your face. He’s so young, and he smokes already this much. You don’t even realize how you’re worrying at your lip. 

“I’ll try and slow down, alright?” 

You nod hesitantly as he offers you a cigarette candy that you take. 

“Just ‘cause you can't stand the smell of smoke.” he teases you, his eyes sleepy and slightly amused. 

“What? I…that wasn’t…” you stutter, feeling embarrassed he caught you. “That’s not why I think you should stop! It’s for your health…”

“But it bothers you too,” a grin forms on his face as he reaches out, and before you can stop you he pinches right above your knee, making you jump and squeal in surprise. He’s learned how ticklish he makes you, and he’s never stopped teasing you with it ever since. l “I know you do.”

“Stop! Stop it!” 

“You alway scrunch up your nose like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world.”

“Stop it, okay!” you try to free your leg with a high-pitched laugh as he tries to pinch you again. “You’re right, I hate it! Hands off, now.”  

You push his hand away as he finally relents, trying to catch your breath. Billy shakes his head in amusement. He tugs at his candy stick with his teeth.

“Knew it,” he says. 

You simply take another candy from his hands, avoiding his gaze as he chews on his. You’re hyper-aware of how flushed you are now, embarrassed that he noticed. You didn't want him to realize that his smoking bothered you.

“I haven’t even realized I do that…” you then say, breaking through the quiet.

“It’s kinda cute.”

His comment makes your heart race and your face flush even more. You glance down, fiddling with the wrapper of the candy in your hand. “Thanks”, you mumble softly, barely audible.

“You sure as hell would make a good nurse.” he mumbles then, shifting his position, wincing a bit and you notice how he brushes his hand over his left side. “All caring and everything. You took care of my wounds pretty well.”

If it wasn’t for what he just said, you would ask him if he got hurt there as well. You try to mask your embarrassment with a casual shrug. "I don't think I'd like being a nurse," you say, managing to keep your voice steady. "Too much pressure and responsibility."

Billy nods, taking your words in stride. "Fair enough," he says. "Then what would you like to be?”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the question. "I don't know," you admit, staring down at your hands. "It's hard to figure out."

"Tell you what, it’s pretty simple," Billy says. "What do you like?”

You lift your eyes from your hands, a bit surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

Billy pops another candy in his mouth. “See, I like cars and I’m pretty good at working on them. So, I know I’m gonna be a mechanic.” he lazily gestures at himself, then at you. “What do you like?”

You ponder his question for a moment, thinking about the things that bring you joy. "I like to take pictures," you say finally. "Especially portraits of people. Capturing their expressions, their emotions... it feels special."

"Then you should be a photographer," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

You smile at his straightforwardness, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe," you say, considering the possibility.

Billy leans his head back against the car. "You know, the guy I was working for in San Diego once told me something," he says. "He said that at the end of the day, it's simple. You need to find something you like and you're really good at, then make it your job. That's how you'll make it in life."

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. "That makes sense," you say softly. 

Photography has always been your favorite hobby. Until recent dramatic events, you used to do it a lot. You have a lot of pictures in the drawer of your desk. Billy tells you he wants you to show them to him sometime. He also says it’s a shame you stopped and that you should start doing it again. You haven’t spoken specifically about your mom leaving yet. You’ve noticed he’s very sensitive about it, careful not to push your boundaries. He’s never asked questions. However, tonight he simply tells you that if photography makes you happy, it’s important to not give up on it, as passions have a way of pulling us through hard times.  You realize how Billy has a way of making things simpler, of helping you see what's important. And in that moment, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your life.

You stay at the quarry until two am, and it’s when you start yawning repeatedly that Billy says it’s time to go. Sitting in the car, despite the warm weather, feels good as the night has gotten chilly. You feel sleepy, but nonetheless, you continue to think about the current situation. You don’t want Billy to go home, there’s something that makes you feel on the edge, you want to talk about it with him so bad but don’t even know how to approach the subject. Despite that, sleep starts to take over you, but once halfway through the ride to the trailer park, a brownish silhouette crosses the road in front of you.

“The fuck.” Billy floors both the clutch and the brakes, and you’re thankful for having your seatbelt on. Your body slams forward and back again, and you hit your head against the headrest for the impact. 

A deer, froze into place a few seconds before, rushes toward the the other side of the road, running wildly and disappearing through the trees.

“Ouch.” 

Billy heaves a loud sigh. “God…frickin’ stupid forest.” 

Your heartbeats slow down as you recover from the surprise, your hand feeling the back of your head. 

“Yeah, we have lots of them here,” you mumble. 

“Jesus.” he looks then at you. “You alright?” 

His hand comes up, touching yours so you drop it. He gently rests it on the back of your head where it still throbs. It’s warm and big. He literally could crush you if he wanted to. But his touch is soft. 

“It’s fine.” you squeak, the sudden touch making you burn. 

“Hurts a lot?” he mutters’, his thumb petting the skin at the nape of your neck. 

“A little bit. It’s gonna pass.”

“Alright.” he relents after a few seconds, then pushes on the gas again. 

The remainder of the car journey passes in silence. Billy stops exactly where he had stopped before, the headlights briefly illuminating the 'Forest Hills' panel before he switches off the engine. Darkness envelops you, blending with the night's silence and the quiet of the car. You're not quite sure what to say. You're uncertain how to bid him farewell. Truth be told, you have no desire to say goodbye to him. The last thing you want is to let him go, sensing that he will likely return to danger as soon as you step into the house. 

"I'm sorry," he says, breaking through the quiet.

You turn toward him, confusion and surprise evident in your expression. "For what?"

"For standing you up."

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not though.” you can see him shake his head from the corner of your eye. “That was a dick move. Could’ve at least called you.” 

Turning your whole body towards him, you lean against the passenger seat. Now that a couple of hours have passed, his eye is swollen and darker.

"Billy, it's okay. Really. I know you..." you hesitate, then look down at your hands, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You try to find the right words, careful not to touch the subject again, especially not to delve into details. "I know you weren't at the pub earlier."

At these words, Billy turns his head and looks away, towards the window. Sensing his discomfort, you hurriedly continue speaking. "And that's alright. I don't need you to explain yourself to me. I get it. I just want you to know that I know. 

Tentatively, you extend your hand towards his, resting on the shift gear. Holding your breath, you anticipate a possible rejection. 

“And I understand."

Billy doesn't shoo you away but remains as still as a statue, his elbow resting against the window, his knuckles against his mouth. Your heart tightens as you imagine the pain hidden beneath the shield he wears, the horrors he must have endured so far. Just as you begin to release the pressure on his hand, preparing to withdraw, Billy sighs and turns his hand palm up, slipping his fingers between yours and squeezing. His touch is warm, sending an electric signal throughout your body, causing your heart to leap. Reassured by his welcoming touch, your thumb caresses the back of his hand.

“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” you say softly, careful not to disrupt the fragile connection between you. “But I care about you. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Billy rests his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He squeezes your hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.” his voice is low and gravelly, as quiet as yours.

You stay like this for a moment, perhaps him relishing in the weight lifted by your confession, and you in his acceptance of your attempt to bridge the gap between you.

“I should go now.” you whisper, glancing at the house, though that’s the last thing you want to do. 

Billy releases his hand from your grip and then reaches for his pack of cigarettes in the center console, his gaze avoiding. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“Will you be okay?” you ask him. 

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.”

Even as you look at him, Billy avoids making eye contact with you. He takes a cigarette, lighting it up, the flame piercing through the darkness and briefly illuminating his bruised face. It's as if he's peeled back one layer too many for his liking. You understand this, though it leaves you feeling distant from him. You miss the warmth he usually radiates. Quietly accepting the situation, you purse your lips and reach for the door handle. 

You glance back at him, failing to lock eyes with him as he exhales the smoke whilst tilting his head back. “Try to rest. And…uhm, call me if you need it. Please.”

Billy merely nods. “Yeah. Night.”

As you walk toward your house, the chilly night air envelops you, and you try to shake off the feeling of helplessness and emptiness that grips you. You're still trying to wrap your head around it, to accept the extent of his condition. It's kind of a shock.

As you hear his car door slam, you turn back to him.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, keeping your voice low as he approaches, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

You don't understand his actions as he draws closer and closer, and for a second your body tenses, until he reaches out and pulls you toward him. It’s only when you’re pressed against his body that you realize he has his arms wrapped around you. Speechless, you allow your arms to encircle his neck, his face nuzzling into your neck, his breath mingling with your hair. You can sense the weight of unspoken words in the fierceness of his embrace, his forearms pressing against your back. Standing on your tiptoes to meet him, you ease the strain as he's slightly bent over you due to his height. But it doesn’t last long, so you simply allow yourself to be engulfed by his tall figure. You hope he can't feel how fast your heart is pounding against your chest, but at the same time, you find yourself not caring. Relief washes over you as the distance he had put between you earlier dissipates into the night air. And it feels good. You could easily get used to all of this. The butterflies in your stomach, the profound happiness as he’s everywhere, around you, against you. You realize that you could stay like this forever, and the thought scares you.

After what feels like an eternity, yet somehow not enough, he finally pulls away. Your hair is tangled with his, and with a gentle touch, he first separates his from yours. Then, with the same hand, he carefully sweeps your hair behind one of your shoulders. With his other arm releasing you, he taps the cigarette with his finger to release the ashes. His eyes carry a sleepy gaze, and this time you're certain they're sleepy in every sense of the word. Nonetheless, they bore into yours with the same overwhelming intensity.

“You sleep tight, okay?” 

You nod a couple of times, still speechless and unable to function by his proximity. 

As you watch his retreating form and assured stride, you feel your heartstrings pulling more strongly towards him with each step he takes, as if he's carrying your heart with him.

[devieuls]

ˋ Love Lessons .

Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : After years of friendship, you realize that you have fallen in love with your best friend Neteyam, but you decide to keep your crush to yourself, afraid of ruining your relationship. The only thing that gave you any comfort was the fact that Neteyam was not interested in any woman, until one day he asks you for advice to make his crush understand that he is interested in her.

Warning : SMUT MDNI - Bites, oral sex, canines, hickeys, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, light dirty talk, foreplay…

Lenght : 5k

Notes : I don’t know, I feel like I could have done better. There are some smut parts that I liked more than others, but I don’t know. I think I’ll do it again later, I also tried to contain myself in detail (as a test, but I think I will continue to write with many details)

NETEYAM: 22 y.o / Y/N: 20 y.o

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles; KARYU: Teacher

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

As long as you can remember, Neteyam Sully has always been the person closest to you, covering your back every time you created trouble in the Omatikaya clan or got into trouble with your own family. Fortunately your parents trusted Neteyam blindly, after all he was the son of the Olo'eykte and as he grew up, his reputation grew with him, making him worthy of the trust of the whole clan. You could consider him your best friend, who understood and appreciated your rebellious spirit and so contrasted with his, creating a perfect balance in your relationship, as one gave the other what one lacked.

When you were younger it seemed easier to see you only as friends, but when you came of age you found it difficult to see Neteyam only as a friend. You had to admit that he had become a handsome Na'vi, an excellent warrior and probably the definition of perfection in the flesh, always teasing him about things like "You are Eywa’s favorite" and similar phrases. It was a fact that Neteyam excelled at everything he experimented with, so much so that he was the first Na'vi of his group to complete his Iknimaya on the first try, so you assumed he was perfect at everything. You never tried to make him understand your true feelings, intimidated by the fact that he would probably reject you and drive you away, ruining a friendship that lasted for years. So you arrived at the age of twenty with a huge crush on your best friend, watching in silence as the young Na'vi attached to him and flirted to become his companion and one day Tsahìk. You were heartened that he never told you about a particular girl, so you weren’t afraid to lose him yet, not wanting to realize that one day it’ll be too late to come out.

"Yn? Why are you so thoughtful?" Neteyam asked you as you walked through the forest, to reach your secret place where you two spent most of your time. "Mh? A-Ah, nothing, I was just seeing if there were fruits around to collect and take with us" You replied, smiling at the Na'vi near you, trying to drive away all the thoughts that haunted your mind. "Are you sure? If you need to talk to me about something, here I am, you know ma Tanhì" His sweet and caring voice was just one of many curses that didn't help your arduous feat of not thinking of him as a possible partner, but only as a childhood friend. "Yes" you hissed, forcing a smile and then turning away from him, bringing it back on the path before you. You kept walking for a few minutes and then you stopped because of Neteyam who got stuck in his footsteps. You looked at him worried, thinking that he had stepped on a poisonous animal that created paralysis or something like this, but then he turned to you with an embarrassed and shy look. "Ma Tanhì… can I ask you something?" he asked nervously, while scratching the back of his neck, noticing a slight veil of redness on his cheeks. "Umh… yes, tell me" you answered, approaching him, trying to figure out what question might embarrass him this way. "How do you get a girl?" The question hit you directly where it would hurt you most. "I-I mean, I’m asking you because you’re my only female friend, and I know asking Kiri would be the same as being mocked by all my siblings, and my mom isn’t the type to make that clear, saying things like 'follow your heart' or 'be yourself', so… I was hoping to hear it from you," he continued shyly.

At that moment all your beliefs collapsed like a house of cards, realizing that it was now too late even to mention that you had a crush on him. You didn’t react right away, your heart weighed so much that it crushed your lungs, taking away your ability to speak. After a few seconds you began to laugh, hiding your pain behind this action, hoping that Neteyam would not notice from your eyes that you were hurt. "The mighty warrior Neteyam, son of the Olo'eyktan and golden boy of the Omatikaya clan does not know how to get a girl? Really?" You asked ironically, knowing perfectly well that every girl in the clan would fall at his feet with a simple smile or greeting. "Neteyam, knowing you, you’ll just need to introduce yourself to this girl and she’ll be at your feet." your voice was a little tougher but sincere. You started walking in the forest followed by Neteyam who was trying to keep your quick step. "Let’s say she’s not like the other girls, this girl probably doesn’t even see me… Or if she does, she doesn’t do it the way I would" Unknowingly Neteyam was stabbing your heart repeatedly with those words. "Neteyam, c'mon. All the village women have a crush on you, you are the ideal type of all, so I doubt that 'this girl' doesn't see you as you would like" You snort while moving the plants to walk, feeling the look of Neteyam burn on your back and then sigh. "I’m telling you, that’s it. Y/n, you’re my…best friend, help me. Please, I promise I’ll cover you with your parents when you run off in the middle of the night, whatever you want" his desperate voice made you laugh, having never heard he beg like this.

"And you’ll have to take Tuk and my little sister Popiti out whenever they want. Plus, you will accompany me and Kiri to collect beads and objects in the forest" You turned to him suddenly, finding him a few inches away from your body. backing up because of the short distance between your bodies. "All right, will you help me?" he lowered his voice quietly, looking you in the eye while waiting for your answer. "Yes… Tell me about this girl." You back off before you start walking again, trying to calm your heart that was starting to run in your chest. Your tone was slightly cold, you didn’t really want to hear him talk about his crush, but as his friend you couldn’t even back out, not after he was always there for you. "Well, she’s… you know…" he began in a dreamy, excited tone, following the direction you were taking. "Perfect. There’s not much else to describe her with. She’s different from all the girls I’ve ever met, she’s kind, caring, and she loves being with kids. I know she’s a rebellious spirit and she likes to make things. is perfect, then her hair-" you stopped him before he could continue to describe her and go into pseudo-romantic details like the smell of her hair or the sound of her laughing. "That’s enough, I could throw up if you started listing the physical characteristics too" Neteyam laughed embarrassedly, remaining behind you. "Have you already come out? Or have you at least made her think you’re interested?" Your voice became slightly gloomy, and then stopped once you arrived at your secret place.

The place was lovely, you had found it as children and from that day had become your place, there was a small waterfall that created a kind of crystalline lake that connected to a small river hidden by high plains and thick nature. You and Neteyam sat on the grass to talk more comfortably. "No, I don’t know how to tell her or make her understand… I thought it would be easier, but every time I try, she doesn’t understand it or she starts laughing thinking that maybe I’m joking" he sighed heavily, and then he looks up to the sky. "And how did you 'try'?" Your eyes met his, trying to help him in some way, even if you would have preferred to do the opposite. You still had to realize that Neteyam could fail in something as easy as courtship. "Lo'ak told me to show interest, to be empathetic and to be myself, but all this I already did. My mother said that showing myself confident would be attractive, but I’m confident and direct in words, and showing respect." Neteyam dropped on his back and snorted, clearly frustrated by the situation, which you also noticed from the nervous oscillation of his tail "'Teyam, I know no one more respectful than you, as I said, you would be the perfect mate for any girl in the village." You admitted looking at the guy who was now lying next to you, unable to look away from his sculpted body, following every line of his body, enchanted by how his chest rose and lowered with every breath.

"Then what do I do… Why doesn’t she understand? It’s obvious that I’m doing something wrong in the courtship, ma Tanhì" his head turned towards you, looking at you while you were sitting and watching him, making him blush slightly. "Maybe start complimenting her, girls love that. Put your hand in her hair when you talk to her, like moving a strand behind her ear, looking for physical contact makes understand your intentions, especially by the way you do it. Oh! Make her laugh, if you can make her laugh, surely you have done most of the work" your voice was bitter in your throat, you were hating giving that kind of advice knowing that he would use them with who knows who. Neteyam as he watched you listening attentively and taking mental notes of what you advised him. " And be attentive to the details, what interests her etc… if you remember important events in her life or what she loves to do, it is a clear sign of interest. Plus if you have common interests, could you do it together, for example, she likes hunting?" he looked at you enchanted for a few seconds, then nodded and said "Yeah, she likes it" his voice lowered slightly, as he looked at you, hoping that you would understand. "Well, you can ask her to hunt with you. You’re a great hunter, you’ll definitely impress her. And then… umh, I don’t know, maybe be present in her days, even with a greeting, maybe looking for her look or bringing her something you know she might like. And be direct, let her know that you like her, maybe you take her and tell her, you create the right atmosphere… yeah, you know… things like that" You looked away from Neteyam’s, feeling a strong twinge in your heart that made it hard to speak again, feeling as if I had helped him get away from you. "What if she doesn’t understand it? she’s a good friend, and I don’t know if she’ll reciprocate" You clenched your jaw, maybe understanding who that girl was. Your mutual friend had been acting weird with you for weeks, and Neteyam was acting strangely the same way. Now all the dots were connecting in your mind. " He will understand, if you will be directed with there is another way. If it is not a skxawng. In case you make yourself heard and give her special attentions." You said with clenched teeth, unable to hide the annoyance anymore.

"Ma Tanhì," he whispered, approaching you, sitting again just to lay two fingers under your chin, turning your face towards him. Your noses brushed lightly as his eyes rolled down your lips. "And as actions?… what should I do?" his hoarse voice struck you in a strange way the back and the lower abdomen. "U-umh… Maybe you should… w-well" The breath died in your throat, going to create a knot that pushed down all the words that were going to come out of your lips. " Hmm? I should what, ma Tanhi?" your noses rubbed against each other again, and for a few seconds you deluded yourself that he wanted to kiss you, perhaps failing to realize what was happening. His eyes returned to yours, making you feel a flock of Sturmbeest in your belly. "L-like… kissing her" You whispered with a thread of voice, while his free hand went to move behind your ear some strands of hair, then caress your cheek with his thumb. You swallowed loudly, noticing how Neteyam’s eyes seemed so concentrated in yours, leaving you amazed. "Should I?" His words made you take a deep breath, feeling suddenly weak. "You should…" Neteyam’s smile caught your eyes, staring at his opened lips, which received a mischievous smirk. "Yes, I should."

Suddenly a strong heat hit your body, causing your heart to pump as much blood as possible into your veins as your cheeks burned. Neteyam’s lips met yours, his hands moved from your face to hold the sides of your neck, pressing the thumbs on your jaw. You stood by that unexpected approach, and then only realized it when Neteyam’s tongue pounded against your lips and welcomed it into your mouth. You felt his sweet taste because of the fruit that you both had eaten just before walking into the forest, you moaning in his lips trying to break away from the passionate kiss to catch your breath. Neteyam bit your lip, pulling it with his fangs, now moving his hands between your hair and around your waist, pressing your head against his lips making you groan as your flickering fingers grazed the hard skin of his abdomen. His warm skin contracting under your fingers, as if you were made of pure fire, so much so that when you felt more confident of yourself and your body, you sat on top of him. Your legs tied to his pelvis, squeezing him to you as he did to your body, shuddering when his hand that was once on his waist was now climbing up your bare back, making you arch your body like a cat. You trembled when he came off your lips with a snap that accompanied the sound of the waterfall shattering against the surface of the water, making you pant and gasp to regain the air you had lost. Your red face and half-closed eyes while Neteyam pressed your fingertips on your body.

You feared, for a second, that everything would be over after that kiss and that the embarrassment would lead you two to stay away, but your fears were swept away when you tried to get up from his legs and Neteyam prevented you, starting to kiss your jaw. In silence your bodies were calling each other, you felt the pressure of his whole being against you and new electric shocks hit your back. His soft, moist lips drew wet kisses on your jaw, starting to bite and suck down your neck as your head bent backwards, keeping your eyes half closed. His tongue was even more raw with your already sensitive neck, rough and greedy explored every inch of your skin, occasionally pressing his canines, panting raucously as he savored you. Letting sweet moans come out of your throat in despair as your fingers crawled into his braids, seeking comfort. The curious and hungry eyes of Neteyam studied your skin, feeling contentment in feeling the trembling and shivers he caused you, enjoying your heavy breaths and the noises you made to contain the moans, as if you could be ashamed of something he was trying to hear with such desperation. Your back gently collided against the grass when Neteyam stretched you under him, sliding his lips down your body, as his fingers gently removed the braided top that covered your breasts, as if to give you time to stop him if you wanted. Your eyes rolled backwards as his rough tongue collided against your nipple, and his hand crept in agonizing slowly between your legs, caressing it. You bit your lip violently when you felt the gentle and circular movements of his thumb on your clitoris, feeling the chills come down and hit right where Neteyam was playing with his fingers.

The red cheeks began to burn on your face, as you carried a hand to your mouth to force you not to let him hear your stifled moans, even if your hot body betrayed you. A smothered scream of pleasure instinctively came out of your lips when Neteyam’s fingers slid very easily into you. You suddenly felt airless, your eyes wide open and your body trembling, eager to hear what else he had in store for you. Neteyam’s hoarse laugh made your tail stand on end behind you, while the tip of your head swelled because of excitation, making you blush even more. "No need to be embarrassed, it’s normal that you like this, ma Tanhì" he whispered against your skin, making you arch your back again because of his rough pumping on your breasts. "Shh, baby, just… enjoy the moment and let me hear how much you like it" Neteyam’s voice was getting lower and slower, more sensual, knowing that you would like this. Swallow loudly when Neteyam made his way up to your thighs, leaving behind a trail of burning wet kisses, accompanying his movements with his fingers firmly inside you, which continued to move as if they were waves, making your legs tremble. Your sensitive breasts made you shudder because of the light breeze and saliva that the boy had left on the tip, and when you lowered your head to look for his eyes, you found him blowing against the bundle of nerves that yearned to be satisfied. You once again felt his tongue but this time he was working through your needy folds, loving the way one of his muscles could make you feel all that ecstasy. You whined as your hands went to clench the soft grass to find a foothold to release the frustration of too much pleasure, dropping your head backwards, hoping to muffle as much as possible your desperate moans. Neteyam looked for your face, eager to notice the impatience of your eyes and watch your face become a mess just for him, with the aim of giving you as much pleasure as possible, wanting to feel you up to bring you orgasm. He started savoring your intimacy, tickling your folds with the tip of your tongue, making you grunt as you clenched your teeth. When he started sucking, you felt something break in you, you couldn’t even cover your mouth as you groaned his name without shame, watching as he was focused on feeding on your excitement. Your hand again found place in his hair, pulling them and accompanying his movements as he gave you pleasure. "Look how wet you are for me, you wanted me so badly?" Neteyam said with sensual voice, between a lick and a lukewarm breath to make you shiver and whimping.

Your legs began to feel tired and heavy around his cheeks, trying to close together to stop feeling that tingling and flickering caused by too much pleasure. Neteyam wrapped his big hands around your thighs, opening them wider, locking them as much as possible against the ground below as his fingers sank into your soft flesh. His jaw continued to move between your legs with a heartbreaking rhythm that went from slow and gentle to rude and fast, making your walls tighten around his wet muscle. Neteyam broke away from you when he felt that your intimacy was wet enough not to make you feel pain when he slips inside you. His eyes peered at your body beneath him, still trembling and sensitive, touching your already sweaty skin, worshipping how you writhed and gasped under him. You could only take courage later, drawing him to your lips after your fingers hooked to the necklace on his neck. You tasted your own intrinsic moods in your best friend’s saliva as you embraced his body between your legs, rubbing his covered intimacy with your naked, feeling him grunting in your mouth. You smiled as you felt him vulnerable above you, taking advantage of that moment to put yourself on top of him, your back arched toward him to allow you to continue the kiss that was giving relief to both of you. You began to rub yourself on his still-covered sex, feeling pleasure when his throbbing muscle found space in your heat, moaning with pleasure, as your hands on his chest could feel the contractions and chills running through his body as well.

"Hmhm, I know something you’d like to try." Neteyam said as he wrapped his hands around your bare hips, observing the red and purple spots that covered your body. "What?" you whispered in response, as you detached yourself from his lips, observing him with ardent desire. One of his hands came up on your face, placing three fingers on your jaw and thumb on your lips, caressing your soft mouth, and then gently tapping on it. "Open." he ordered. His eyes following your every move, worshipping the way you obeyed him by opening your mouth and taking his thumb in your mouth, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively began to lick and suck his finger greedily, whining as you felt the slightly salty taste against your tongue. "Good girl, you already understood" Neteyam continued, as his hand on his side began to explore every inch of your body with desire. The Na'vi lowered you to the height of his loincloth and you smiled before taking your face away from where Neteyam was leading you, back on his face, sliding his salivated thumb out of his mouth. "Hmhm, here I decide, 'Teyam" you whispered to his ear, noticing with the corner of your eye his jaw contracted as your fingers find their way under his loincloth, just after picking up some of your moods still dripping from your intimacy, wrapping your phalanges around his needy manhood. You heard him growl after panting because of your touch, his chest rising and the frustrated breath of his nostrils against your neck, making you smile for the effect you had on him. Your hand began to slide up and down his erection with gradual speed, you felt his hoarse and rough groans against your skin, his hands clasping your thighs and his breathless breaths. Your lips went to tease the shell of his ear, leaving some magnate kisses or slight licks. When you felt quite satisfied with how he was also pining under you, you lowered yourself making sure you kept eye contact. Your hand went to move and later rip off his loincloth; Neteyam bit his lip and then groaned deeply when your mouth wrapped around his glans, starting to tease the tip with your tongue. Your head slid along his entire length to completely conceal it, immediately moving the head with greed, making him hiss and wince under you. The vein of his penis pulsed incessantly against the inside of your cheek, as he bit his lip and carried a hand to collect your hair in a tight vise.You felt his erection collide several times against the deepest point of your throat, letting you fuck your mouth by Neteyam, before breaking off with tears of pleasure sliding on your face. Your lips swollen and reddened, covered with drool as you tried to start breathing regularly sent him into ecstasy.

The pre-cum that came out of Neteyam’s sex illuminated your lips, making him turn on more to the vision of you with swollen and dirty lips of him. He took you by the hair and carried you back under him, and then he opened your legs and slid inside you with a facility that you would not have expected. You moaned breathlessly as his hips collided with yours in that way, carrying your hands against his back, beginning to scratch and tighten his skin with need. Your cheeks reddened that welcomed other lukewarm tears, your legs tight around his pelvis and the strong heat that at each push accumulated inside you. His tail wrapped around your heel, holding you still due to spasms of pleasure. Neteyam’s hoarse groans did not delay in striking your ears, as he held you by the hips, caressing your trembling thighs and twitching at each of his lunges. Your sweaty bodies colliding with every little movement, making you more hot and eager to consume you. Your lips met once again, growling at each other every time Neteyam pushed against your G-spot, your willows stirring each other’s hormones still stuck in your mouths. You bit his lips when he began to push and grind inside you shamelessly, growling at him before whining, making him excite even more as he purposely struck where your walls held him tighter due to sensitivity. You felt Neteyam’s body stiffen and twitching above you just before reaching orgasm and pouring out of you in time, then carrying two fingers inside you and starting to pump until you reach your peak shortly after him.

You whimpered loudly after the strong orgasm that mercilessly hit you; your heavy, sore thighs as your orgasm crashed into him and hot splashes of your cum poured over his hand. He gasped entranced, stunned by the lust and how your body looked so soft and relaxed after cumming. You took long deep breaths, looking at the green leaves so far away from you because of the trees too high, the sun that lightly struck the place where you were made you return to reality. You blush when Neteyam lays next to you, looking up at him too.

"Well, then…" He started, while you recovered with your hand the pieces of clothes to cover yourself again, hoping that you both would turn a blind eye. "Hmm…" You whine while avoiding his gaze with all your heart. "Do you think after all this, you realize I have a crush on you? If even this way you don’t understand that I like you, I don’t know what other kind of attention to give you to make it clear" he said casually. You shuddered and looked at him in shock. "Excuse you?" you whispered not really wanting to understand the meaning of his words. "I say, did you understand that you are the girl I was trying to conquer?" Your eyes met and you swallowed. "I don’t know how to ask you more directly than that, and don’t think I’m not afraid to ruin our friendship. But I like you, not just aesthetically, i love every part of you. I’ve been trying to make you understand this for six years, not that I didn’t like you as a child…" His voice was slightly shaky, as you watched him in silence, trying to figure out how to respond. "You never let me know…" you whispered as you blushed. Neteyam laughed and led you to lean on his chest, wrapping your body with arms "You really are a skxawng, ma Tanhì. I’m supposed to be teaching you. But how to figure out that someone has a crush on you." You hit him blushing while hiding your face on his chest. "Yeah, yeah, lessons from a guy who doesn’t even know how to come out and only does it after having sex with his crush. The great Karyu, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" You teased him and then got pinched on the hips by his hands. "Not that you ever noticed I’ve had a crush on you for ages." Neteyam looked at you perplexed, and you couldn’t contain the laughter.

"See? Other than 'lessons'. You’re more Skxawng than I am, ma 'Teyam."

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TAG LIST : @riatesullironalite @shadowmoonlight0604

[samkerrworshipper]

togetherness | pt.2

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5 |

longawaited and has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now cause i wasn’t quite sure if i liked the direction it’s gone in… but highliting different issues n stuff so i hope y’all enjoy! again i’ve edited this on my phone whilst reading from my kindle lol so not going to lie i’m aware that the editing could be shocking… there’s a few more parts sitting in my drafts so lmk if y’all want more

warnings: child exploitation, themes of sexual assault of minors, just general hurt with protective n supportive tillies

“Now that we’ve settled that, is there anything, anything at all that you’d like to tell me that I could help you with?”

I gulped, there were about six things I could think of just off the top of my head. I was tentative though. I could feel tears starting to form in the back of my eyes as I tried to make the decision in my head.

“No judgement?”

Sam’s immediate nod in response was comforting and apparently enough to get me talking.

“It’s going to sound stupid and I don’t even know what you could do about it considering that I’m probably somewhere in the wrong with it as well.”

Sam looked like a mixture of intrigued and perplexed.

“Y/n, even if I can’t do anything about it, you look like you just need to get it off your chest, I can be that for you as well, just tell me what’s been bothering you so much.”

I sniffled and nodded at Sam, this situation was so abnormally vulnerable for me.

“You know that I was rough around the edges when I got here, I know you haven’t heard the whole story, to put it simply I went through a rough patch when I was 14 and 15, before I got here. I’d just had spine surgery, I thought that I was never going to walk again, let alone play football. I turned to a lot of things, drugs, alcohol, anything. I ran away when I was 14, I don’t remember much of it, just that when I returned home my parents had had enough and they sent me off to the AIS for Tony to train me. Anyways, I’m rambling. Somewhere along the road I sent some explicit videos, photos and texts to my ex boyfriend, graphic ones, there’s a lot of them. He’s been posting them on reddit and twitter and they haven’t gotten any attention yet but with all the media coverage and bad press I’ve had recently I’m worried they are going to be brought up and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sam’s expression was one thing, completely deflated and shocked. She was typing furiously into her phone whilst she was listening to my story. It took a few minutes of silence for her to reply to me.

“First off I want to start off with telling you how grateful I am for you sharing that information with me, it can’t have been easy and you are incredibly brave for telling me. I’ve got some follow up questions that I need to ask, you don’t have to answer them, I’d just appreciate it if you could try your best, okay?”

I nodded quickly in reply to Sam.

“Okay. How old were you when you sent these videos and how old was your boyfriend at the time?”

“I was 14 or 15, he was in his mid twenties.”

“So that puts him in his late 20s or early 30s right now, if my maths is correct. Did you take these photos and videos or did someone else?”

“I took most of them but he took some.”

Sam nodded at me again.

“Okay based on that question I can tell you that this ex boyfriend of yours is legally in possession of child pornography, that’s an indictable crime. If you want this to well and truly stop then we can go up that path. I want us to talk about this with Tony, it’s ultimately your decision but I think it would be very sensible to take this up with him at the very least. Y/n, you have done absolutely nothing wrong, I need to stress to you how important it is that you understand that. No one is going to blame this on you, because it isn’t your fault, you are a victim of a crime. That isn’t something light. I promise you that I have your best interests in concern when I’m telling you this. I have to ask, have you talked to anyone else about this? Your family? A therapist? A friend? Leah?”

Leah Williamson, my arsenal team captain and my best friend/mom/girlfriend. I shook my head at Sam, I’d wanted to tell Leah, she was the only person I probably trusted enough to tell but I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Do you want to talk to someone about it?”

“I was going to talk to Lee about it, eventually. Just with her ACL and us being in different places it didn’t make much sense, plus this stuff is so fucking stupid I didn’t want to bother anyone with it, I’m sorry for bothering you with it, Ellie was right I’m being fucking selfish.”

Sam’s face was unreadable, it was clear she was pretty deep in thought. She sat across from me for a few minutes, in thought, before she stood up and walked around the table, sitting herself down beside me.

“Can I give you a hug?”

I nodded and relaxed a little bit as I felt Sam’s arm snake its way across my shoulders, inevitably bringing me closer to her and into her chest.

“Williamson would want you to tell her, she’ll probably be mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You are not being a bother to anyone, you have human emotions and this situation you are in is a hard one. You aren't being selfish, you are asking for help, which is a very human thing and you very clearly need it right now, there is nothing wrong with that. Now, how about I call Williamson for you, I’ll see you if you can get down here? I’m going to call Tony down here, I’ll brief him and he’ll help, okay?”

“I don’t want to tell Tony, he’s going to be mad and he’ll probably tell me this kind of behaviour isn’t wanted on his team and then I’ll get sent home.”

I could feel the material of Sam’s jumper that she must have thrown on after training soaking up my tears, that was embarrassing.

“I know you don’t want to, and I can promise you that Tony is going to be nothing but supportive, you’ve done nothing wrong. There is nothing illegal about what you did, now or then. Tony is not going to send you home, I promise. Now, do I need to call Williamson or can you do it?”

Realistically I probably could have, but I really didn’t want to.

“Can you?”

Sam nodded at me immediately, which comforted me a little bit.

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I couldn’t. She should be in Sydney right now to watch the Lionesses play tomorrow night, yeah? I’ll talk to her and we’ll see what we can work out for you. I don’t have her number though, so can you call her on your phone and I’ll talk to her.”

I nodded quickly, shakingly pulling my phone out of my pocket and pushing it out onto the table. I very quickly pulled Leah's contact, I’d called her last night so it wasn’t hard to find. She was the only person in the world that I could talk to when I was at my lowest, the only person who actually cared about me. So last night, whilst I was mid panic attack, on Ellie's and I’s ensuite floor I called her and she’d talked me through it. I should have told her then, it probably would have saved me this whole interaction with Sam, but I hadn’t wanted to worry her anymore, so I blamed it on pressure of being selected to start this week and she’d accepted my answer.

We’d been texting most of the morning, her asking me if I’d gotten sleep and if I was feeling alright, I’d answered shortly with an array of 'yes', because I didn’t want to worry her anymore. I passed the phone over to Sam once I found her phone number and she clicked the call button before pressing the phone up to her ear and standing up from her seat, starting to pace between the seats.

“Hey Leah, this is Sam, Sam Kerr, from the Matildas. Look, I’m here at our Sydney training facility with Y/n, we’ve just had a pretty serious conversation with her about some problems that she’s had recently and I was wondering if you were around so you could be here for her.”

Sam pulled out her own phone again as I assumed she listened to Leah’s response. It amazed me as to how fast her fingers danced across her own screen, it was a different kind of multi tasking.

“Yup, Mmm. Alright, I’ll send you the address, it’s not far from you guys hotel from recollection. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being able to do this for her, I’ll see you soon and we can talk about it then.”

I gulped as Sam said her farewells and then hung up the phone before walking back over to me.

“She’s coming down, should be here in fifteen or so. She sounded worried about you, mentioned something about you having a panic attack to her on the phone last night and that she was concerned about you. I’ve texted Tony, he’s finishing up with Ellie and then he’s going to be down here. I’m going to get Steph to meet Leah downstairs when she gets here and she’ll bring her up, Y/n, we’re all here to support you however you need, alright?”

Me and Sam stayed silent in the room until about ten minutes later there was a distinct knock against the door.

“Sam, it’s me, unlock the door.”

Steph’s voice was pretty distinct, even through the heavy door. Sam stood up almost immediately, walking to the door and unlocking it before a grumpy looking Steph and a flustered version of Leah made their way through the doorway before Sam had the opportunity to relock it. Leah’s eyes went straight to my own, her whole facial expression was very controlled, she could command an entire room with that face, I knew from experience.

“Are you okay?”

Her words were directed at me, and only me. I pressed my tongue against my front teeth and lip, trying to decide how to answer the question.

“There’s some stuff that’s been happening that I haven’t told you, I’m not in trouble, or at least that’s what Sam is telling me. It’s some stuff from my past, when I was a kid. Explicit images and photos, on the internet, from when I was a kid. They popped up a few weeks ago, starting when I was in Spain with you before we came here. I didn’t bring it up because I thought I was at fault for it as much as the person who has possession of them. Sam told me that it isn’t, that I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry, I know it was fucking stupid and I should have told you about it or not done it, I don’t even remember taking any of the photos or videos, it just happened and now I don’t know what to do because I don’t want it getting out to the public and I just, I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Leah’s face relaxed a little bit as I progressively talked and rambled. Once I was done she walked over to my spot, seated on one of the chairs and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey, it’s alright, we’re going to sort this out. She’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong and you should have told me earlier but I am so grateful that you are telling me now, yeah? You are so brave kiddo, that’s child exploitation and whoever has possession of those materials is the one who’s in the wrong, okay?”

I nodded into Leah, Steph and Sam were whispering between each other behind us.

“You have to take legal action though.”

Those words made me feel like I’d been stabbed and my guts had been ripped out of my body cavity.

Leah let go of me very gently and pursed her lips.

“Because this isn’t going to go away if you don’t, and I know that you are strong but you aren’t going to be able to live if you know that this person who has possession of these materials is still out there. You’ve been checked out for weeks now, since before Mallorca. You aren’t going to check back into your life until this goes, I know it. I need you checked in, I need you to be my girl, not the skeleton of your own body that you inhabit as a coping mechanism when something bad happens.”

I think Leah would have said more if it wasn’t for the incessant knocking against the door that came again. Sam was the one who went to the door again, letting Tony in. He looked flustered as well, and a little bit worried. I’d known the man since I was 15, he’d seen me in some pretty interesting situations. Sam intercepted him before he could say anything, pulling him aside and giving him what I assumed to be the rundown of the last hour.

“I don’t think I can handle this getting out, it will, if I take legal action this is going to get out and then I’m going to be Y/n Y/l/n, the Matilda’s exploitative rookie and I’ll never be back here. My career will be over, Jonas won’t want me back, everything I've worked for will be done.”

Leah took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around me and working her hands through my scalp and hair.

“If you take legal action you will be supported, I’ll make sure of it. We are a part of a community of women that uplift us for everything you do, this won’t be any different. There will be some who judge, there is always going to be someone there to judge you. Y/n, you need to do this for your sanity, I won’t lose you to your mental health again, not like last year. Kerr has done the right thing here, bringing this up, it shows me that she cares a lot more about you then you think, it also shows me that she knows what’s best for this team and you. She wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t think this was the best course of action.”

I nodded into Leah, trying to convince myself that her words were correct. Eventually, after Sam had given Tony the full rundown he sat down across from me, exactly where Sam had been beforehand. Sam and Steph both stood behind me and Leah, Sam’s arms resting gently on my shoulders, it was grounding.

“Sam’s told me about what’s happening. First of all I want to say how sorry I am that you are going through this, it’s not something that anyone should have to deal with, ever. Second of all I want to let you know that this team, this whole nation is in support of you. Look, it’s too late for me to take any action now. I’m going to get the police to come down tomorrow morning, you aren’t in trouble. I just think that they are going to have a better understanding of this situation than any of us could. They’ll come down, we’ll have a talk about all of this, they’ll ask the questions they need to. We don’t need to make any decisions now, we’ll talk to them, Sam and I will be there to advocate for you. After that we can make decisions about taking legal action and whatnot. Otherwise I just wanted to tell you genuinely, from the bottom of my heart how much we all care about you and value you here, we are all going to be here for whatever you need in the future, you are a valued part of this team and family and we are all here to look out for your needs, okay?”

I gulped, I could feel fresh tears springing to my eyes again. I was petrified of the police, to say the least, but Tony’s voice was so reassuring. He was the father that I’d never had and when I was 15 and he’d met me I’d been in a bad place, I’d needed him to be that figure in my life and he had been. He gave me a routine, gave me something to wake up for every morning. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Tony. He’d given me a chance when no one else had been prepared to and for that I would always be in debt to him for.

“Okay, I’ll get in contact with the police, we’ll get a constable down tomorrow morning and we can have an open conversation with them about it, you are not in trouble, nothing is going to happen that will end in consequences for you. I think though that you need to head back to the hotel and get some proper sleep, your body needs it. So head back, don’t worry about any of this, because I’m going to sort it out and we’ll talk about it in the morning with a clean slate and mindset, alright?”

I nodded at Tony, I didn’t really have much to say.

“Thank you Coach.”

He nodded at me, before standing up and walking around to the other side of the octoval table and giving me a pat on the back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry about this anymore, it’s going to be okay. Get back to the hotel, we’ve got an early wakeup tomorrow.”

I nodded at Coach, watching as he left the room just as quickly as he’d entered it.

“I’ve talked to Steph, her and I are rooming together so we’ll switch, she’ll stay with Ellie and you can come and room in with me, I think we’ll keep it that way for the rest of the tournament.”

I looked over at Sam, nodding along with what she was saying. Leah reached her arms around me, a big bear hug.

“And I am here, I expect you to check in with me, at least twice a day. When you guys head off to Melbourne or Brisbane I’m not going to be able to be there, so I need you to stay in contact with me, okay? Anybody does so much as look at you wrong I want to be the first to know, okay?”

I nodded at Leah, half in fear, half in adoration. She was the only person in the world that I actually trusted in. Our bond had been forced, when I’d moved to London to play for Arsenal I’d been moved into the spare room in her apartment and in a very short amount of time we’d created a bond that extended beyond the realm of friendship. I loved her, she was the first person besides Tony to give me a chance and he was obligated to give me on, Leah had chosen to fight for me and to stick by my side even when it wasn’t easy, she was a good person, better than I was sure I’d ever be.

“We’ll drop you back to your hotel on our way home Williamson, it’s the least we could do considering you got here so quickly, can you just give us five minutes to grab our things from the locker room?”

Sam’s voice held no room for argument, she was insisting on giving Leah a ride home and Leah didn’t try to object.

“Please, call me Leah and if it’s no trouble I would really appreciate it. I can meet you guys down in the foyer in about five, I need to go to the loo, so whilst I’m doing that how about you guys go and get your stuff together?”

Sam, Steph and I all walked back down to the change rooms in a comfortable silence. It was when we actually made it back to the rooms that I realised I still had my boots on, the cleats that were spotless from not even getting any wear at training. The cleats that a few hours ago had seemed impossible to tie up. I made quick business of pulling them off of my feet, throwing them into my kit bag and pulling out the pair of Nike dunks that I’d worn in earlier when we’d all come down here for our match analysis. Sam and Steph both made quick work off slipping out of their training kits and changing into sweat pant duos that matched with me. After they’d gotten changed and refreshed we all grabbed our bags and whatever other things we had lying around before making our way down to the foyer.

Leah was waiting for us, tapping her foot violently against the marble floors. When she spotted the three of us out of the corner of her eye her stress ceased almost immediately. I’d learnt a lot about Leah in the amount of time I’d known her. One thing about England’s captain was that she was not as fearless as everyone credited her as being, she put on a brave face, a bloody good one, but she was just as human as everyone else and sometimes it showed, especially when she felt uncomfortable in a situation or she didn’t think she deserved to be where she was. I’d moved in with her initially just before she'd led the Lionesses to their victory at the euro’s, and at the time Leah had been a basket case to be nice. I think that was how we’d bonded, through our similar insecurities of not being good enough to fill the shoes that had been passed down to us.

“C’mon cap, let’s get going.”

Leah smiled at me and nodded. We’d been keeping our relationship under wraps for a few months now. Neither of us were insecure in our situation and we were happy to enjoy our private, happy and blessed life together. Plus we hadn’t really seen much of each other in the past month or so, being caught up with our obligations to our national teams. Leah was also very committed to her rehab and I couldn’t be there for every step of that so we’d spent some time apart. We’d both agreed when the new Arsenal season rolled around that we’d tell the team, but still keep it under wraps from the public for as long as we could. Neither of us were worried about the public finding out, I was out, had been since I was 14. Leah wasn’t officially but she’d also never dated a man and in the eyes of the female soccer world that pretty much means you're gay. It would come out when it did and we were prepared for that to happen.

We walked out to Steph’s car, piling all of our bags in the boot before Sam and Steph slid into the passenger and drivers seats whilst Leah and I both took seats in the backseat. Somewhere along in the drive her hand made its way to my own, resting gently on top of my knee cap. I interlocked our fingers and smiled up at her, this was the part of a secret relationship that I liked, getting moments just between the two of you that only the two of you understood. The sweet nothings. I felt my heart plummet a little bit as we arrived out the front of Leah’s hotel and I realised that I was going to have to say goodbye, potentially for a few more weeks. That was the suckish part of being a professional athlete messing around with another professional athlete, there wasn’t always a timeline on when you’d see each other next, sometimes it was just situational.

I made the call to walk Leah to the door of the hotel, when we got to the doors I gave her a hug, a big, long hug. She hugged me back, tightly. Leah was good at hugs. When we finally had to come apart I looked up at her, with my big green eyes and apparently she couldn’t resist because she reached down and honoured me with a peck. It was nothing more, a small gesture but to me it was everything.

“I love you okay, be safe, text me, call me. I am always here for you, don’t keep me in the dark on things that you think are going to burden me, they aren’t, call your therapist, please.”

I nodded at Leah, she was using her captain's voice with me that she knew I couldn’t refuse.

“When you get back to the hotel I expect you to eat some proper food, not of those bloody granola bars that you insist are nutritional, proper food. Hydrate, at least a litre of water. Sleep, you deserve to sleep, let yourself sleep. Call me in the morning and tell me how you are feeling, okay?”

I gulped and nodded at Leah, an action that I was becoming aware I might have done too much of tonight.

“Love you too, thank you for being here for me.”

“Anytime, I’m only ever one call away, now go home.”

I gave Leah one final look before walking back to the car, closing the door behind me only to be bombarded with googly eyes from the two co captains sitting in the front of the car.

“You and Williamson?”

Sam’s voice was the first one to break the sound barrier, it scared me a little bit.

“Yeah.”

I made it sound like it was a non fact, like every person on the planet knew that I was in the bed sheets of the Lionesses Captain.

“Fuck, I knew it, McCabe owes me fifty quid.”

Steph’s voice was steadier and surprised me a little bit.

“We all had bets, how long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve been dating for 6 or 8 months, fucking around with each other since I joined Arsenal so about a year or so.”

Steph’s eyebrows rose to the top of her forrid, obviously very surprised by my answer.

“You're trying to tell me that you and Lee have just casually been hiding a relationship behind closed doors for months.”

“I mean we’re roommates, it wasn’t that hard to hide, plus we just aren’t rabbits who need to fuck on every surface unlike Sam and fucking Kristie, I’m never going to be able to mentally burn the image of you two getting at it on the pool table after the olympics, that was fucking traumatic.”

Sam’s face had flushed, we constantly brought it up with her. After our bronze loss to the US in the olympics a lot of the team had gone out in celebration with the Americans, what I hadn’t expected to find that night when I’d walked into the room that I thought was the bathroom was Sam eating her secret girlfriend out on the table. It had messed with my brain permanently.

“Hey you're the one who’s always bringing it up, maybe you were secretly into it, secret fantasy between you and Williamson.”

I loudly gagged from my spot in the backseat, extremely displeased by Sam’s imaginative imagery.

“Nobody thinks that Sam, it’s just you and all of your lost brain cells.”

There was something so comfortable about the dynamic between Sam and Steph, something so sisterly and bonded. They were like family, they messed around with each other and pushed each other but they loved each other and the both of them knew that at the end of the day. They might not have been the closest on the team, they weren’t each other's best friends but they were family and that was all that mattered.

“Whatever you say Stephy.”

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Four

TW: NSFW, inappropriate use of handcuffs, angst

Tom picks you up from your shift, and you ride in silence. The uncomfortable, we need to talk, prickly silence that has your bones feeling weirdly placed and your teeth achy with unsaid words. His mouth and your mouth combined? Quiet between the two? Strange. You both know something’s up. Maybe even more than one something. 

When you get into your place, he goes to use the restroom, and you meander around cleaning a little bit—putting some dishes away and rearranging your coat rack and making sure your recently neglected plants aren’t dying dry deaths. 

“Sorry, guys,” you whisper, filling them up and eyeing the leaves for any browning spots, spraying the orchids’ tangled roots with water and a little plant food. You pause at the dark purple orchid from Julian, realizing there’s still a smear of your dried blood on the pot. Roses love to eat blood and bone. You’re not so sure about orchids. It’s hard not to think of Julian, when you look at the beautiful plant, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get rid of it yet. It’s not the orchid’s fault, after all.  

“You just keep getting cuter,” Tom says, smirking from the kitchen doorway. 

“They’re living things,” you reply, sticking your tongue out. 

“You know, I worked a case once where a lady had a lot of plants.”

You shoot him a raised brow. “Was she poisoning someone with one?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, that fast growing, uncut dark shag probably due for a haircut soon. Shame, you kinda like it a little longer. “See, it just makes me even more suspicious that you know that.” 

“Am I a suspect now, Officer Ludlow?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Easy, Poison Ivy, don’t make me get the cuffs.” 

“Poison Ivy, really?” 

He shrugs. “What? She’s hot. You’re hot. You both love plants. Got that fiery temper.” Wink.

“And you’re what, Batman?” You crinkle your nose at the comparison. Bruce Wayne ain’t got nothin on Tom Ludlow. Plus, you were never a big fan. Now, Punisher, he’s someone you can admire.

“No. I’m a side character. Poison Ivy’s boyfriend.” 

Do not engage. Do not interact. Do not make eye contact. Did he just call himself… You haven’t had a boyfriend in what, years? Tom Ludlow? Boyfriend? Dating? Your brain might be short circuiting, a rattling tool box of metal getting zapped with a cattle prod, and you stand there, frozen, looking dumb for a good minute until you can compartmentalize and rationalize. 

Tom Ludlow hasn’t really left since that first night you invited him in. His clothes are in your dirty laundry, his shoes are sitting next to yours on the entryway rug, making your sneakers look like kids shoes in comparison, his amazing smell is on everything, his indent is on your bed. He’s just settled himself right in here, and you didn’t even notice. 

“What’s a throw down?” You ask, stupidly, suddenly, not sure why you pick that moment to inquire about this. 

To your credit, it does take him off guard and make him forget about the whole boyfriend thing… For now. “It’s a gun dirty cops carry. Something to throw away in case they shoot someone...unlawfully.”

“Is that…what you have on your ankle?” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, and he probably would have started yelling, if not for how tiny your voice sounded, and the big-eyed bunny look on your face. “No, baby. That’s my backup. In case I lose my other gun. Which, I have. Why are you asking me this?” 

Oh fuck, this was a bad, bad decision. Maybe you should mention the dating conversation again? You turn to face him, trying to seem less suspicious and probably just ranking yourself even higher on his list of suspects. “Brixton, that guy that interviewed me, said you fired it in the store.” 

Nice save—never mind, looks like you’ve personally signed Brixton’s death certificate yourself. You jump in to appease that hostile look curtaining over his face. “It's just..I feel like there’s something up, Tom. Something you’re not telling me?”

You’re such a hypocrite. 

“What does that have to do with my backup?” He asks, great fucking detective that he is, and you’re caught like a rabbit in a metal fox trap, ready to gnaw off its own leg just to get free. And maybe, judging by that suspicious look on his face, you should start digging in sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You throw your hands in the air, maybe a little too dramatically. “I’m just trying to piece this whole thing together, y'know? And if you’re not telling me anything, how can I do that? I saw his face—the man who attempted to murder a cop in cold blood—and I’m scared.” None of that was particularly a lie, but you still feel bad for freaking out on him. 

You feel even worse, when his standoffish attitude melts immediately for you. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby, come here,” he says, holding out his arms to you. 

Once upon a time, with anyone else, you would be an ornery shit and refuse the respective olive branch. But with Tom…you melt too, and before you know it you’ve crossed the tiny kitchen to fill his arms. 

“You’ve taken this whole thing like such a champ, I fucking forget you’re not used to getting shot at,” he says to the top of your head. “M’sorry, baby. I’m working on figuring this all out. I promise you. I’ve got some leads. I gotta find a guy…” He shuts himself up out of habit, not used to sharing details of an ongoing investigation with a civilian. But then he seems to think better of it, considering you’re right in the fucking middle of it too. “I gotta find this guy who might know the shooters. I’m waiting on a call. Got a lead through an inmate in County.”

“Why would an inmate help you?” you mumble into the solid plane of his chest. 

“Because I put him there, and he’s not gettin’ out unless he gets me that name.”

You blink at that, craning your neck to look up at him. “Is that legal?” 

He looks down at you with that Come on look that makes you feel more than a little foolish. 

“Oh.”

You feel the rumble of his amusement from deep in his chest, more than hear it. 

“Is that…always how you really get things done?” you ask, at risk of being made to feel even dumber. “Like, are the official channels really that useless?”

“Pretty much, sweetheart. Learned it the hard way a long time ago. Too many bureaucrats in the LAPD. Not enough people actually willing to get the job done.”

With a long sigh you nod, utterly reluctant to vacate the depression between his pecs. You’re pretty sure it was made just for your head. 

You guess you're about to embark on some back channels of your own to keep him out of trouble. The thought of what Julian might have in store for you makes a shudder of revilement run through you. Tom cranes back to study you, those hawkish eyes narrowed. He knows something’s up. He’s too smart, and you can’t fathom how you’re going to trick him, even if it is for his own good.

You suppose your best bet is distracting him–so you stand on tip toe, and press your lips to his. 

***

He just will not drop it.

He drives you absolutely wild. To the edge of your sanity. To the brink of death. 

This man’s tongue should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s an absolute menace. 

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, yet you can’t help but think to yourself, this is how you die.

“Tom…” you beg. “It’s too much!”

You would have even tried to get up, to get away, to flee, you’re that desperate, but he’s been holding you down with those big beautiful hands, and you are just a quivering mess of a woman at his mercy. Plus, he’s got you cuffed to the post of your bed.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl,” he tells you. “You know what I want to hear.”

“This is…interrogation…under duress.”

“Oooo, someone’s been studying up.”

“Hey, I know…stuff.”

He’s changed tactics, making slow, soft circles with his tongue, just shy of where you need him most. The keening whine it tears from your hoarse throat makes him chuckle against you; a deep, bone-melting sound that you think Satan could take some notes from. 

“You know what I want to hear.”

I’m yours.

“Torturing me into saying it won’t make it true.”

“I already know it’s true, sweetheart. Just want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, your head thrown back into the pillows. So keyed up yet exhausted, too stubborn for your own good. You sense Tom looking up at you, his cheek resting on the soft pillow of your inner thigh. 

“Scare you that much, baby?”

You have to try twice before you can find your voice, suddenly feeling like you downed a fat gulp of Mojave sand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

He climbs your body, and you are relieved until he sheathes himself inside you, just like that, like this is the place where he belongs. You desperately try to grind against him, knowing you are so close to the edge, but he just pins you with his thick cock kissing your cervix and his elbows on either side of you. 

He kisses your forehead, and its all so tender you could cry.

“You know you’re safe with me?”

“I know.” You mean it, too, even if you sound pitiful.

He sweeps your hair from your face with gentle fingers, looking down at you with a little smile that wrecks your heart. It simply was not fair.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure if he means your neuroses in general, or your earlier almost-slip, or…who knows? Discussing any and all of it aloud terrifies you. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Finally, you just frown, and fall back on your favorite word of all time.

“No.”

Miraculously, he doesn’t get mad, like every other man you’ve ever known would have. He just seems to think you’re cute. “You know what?” He muses, tracing your collarbones and making you shiver, “I think,” he follows the dip of your skin, down between your breasts, then under, slow and soft, over your rib cage as you make little strangled gasps, attempting unsuccessfully to writhe—get him frustrated enough to move. “I think you like it when I tease all your worries away.” 

Why does that infuriate you even more? “This isn’t teasing.” Your whining delights him and humiliates you. “This is tortu-ah.” 

He has your pert right nipple tugged between two fingers, rolling the sensitive flesh against rough calluses. The sensation swells into your pussy, and she clenches, exacting her own form of vengeance on Tom, for once on the same side as you—the cum or die side. 

A breath of air hisses from between his teeth, and you grin up at him in triumph. Sure, you’re the one handcuffed to the bed being edged out of your mind, but you know underneath all that cool, collected facade this affects him just as much as it does you. 

“You haven’t seen torture yet.” He says, his smile turning malicious.

“What?” You pant. “Can’t help it that my pussy loves your cock so much, baby.”

He turns peach again, skin absolutely betraying his attitude, and you let loose a sharp giggle that turns to a groaning snarl when he pumps inside of you, slow, not enough. The rhythm he adopts after a minute or two of equally frustrating practice is made for your destruction; more frustrating than just holding him inside, unmoving. 

That languid squelching rub, the slow strokes that make your cunt flood and fatten with plentiful cum, yield to and accommodate its bulky visitor like a good little host should—all of it gets both of you gnashing your teeth and growling like beasts.

In this feral, viscous slide of your bodies, Tom takes your mouth instead of talking, teeth and tongue and spit. None of it would be pretty from an onlooker's perspective, you think, as he swallows the bottom of your face into his big jaws, but fuck, it’s just what you need from him while he works your cunt to a slow, brutal end. 

La petite mort, your brain thinks, surfacing from the sluggish black haze for a moment before you lose it entirely again to a violent, slow orgasm on just his cock. You barely feel the scratchy tickle of his stubble as he buries his face into your neck, biting and licking at your collar, and ending right along with you. 

“Trickster,” he mumbles, hips twitching in finality, length already softening and settling inside you. 

“Who me?” You giggle. 

“Minx,” he growls. 

“Never,” you tease. 

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to say it baby. Might as well just get it over with.” 

“Say what?” You ask, now just trying to piss him off. 

He nibbles the skin of your neck, and you giggle-flinch away. 

“I have to tickle you?” He asks. 

“Swear to God, Tom, I will kill you.” Then, you pout. “These cuffs are kinda uncomfy.” 

He sighs and unlocks you from your metal, cold bondage, then rubs the blood and warmth back into your wrists. “Can I ask you something?” 

You flick your head at him, curious, and push the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you take a little vacation with me? After I’m done with this case? I’d like to take you somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want. Beach, mountains. I know we’re already right next to the beach, but maybe one with calmer water? They have some nice little bungalows in Florida.” He’s cute, when he’s all rambling and shy and flustered. 

You lean up to kiss him, halting his nerves. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Really?” He asks, grin big and goofy and only missing a long tongue hanging from the side. 

He makes you laugh. The dichotomy of this man. God, you want to eat him. “Yeah. I have unused vacation time anyway. As long as you promise not to secretly be a serial killer.” 

He snorts, probably thinking of the same image that you are: Bull-in-a-china-shop, brutish, forceful, loud Tom trying to be sneaky and malicious in any capacity? It’s just not believable. What you see is what you get with this long, bronze man currently walking butt ass naked to the bathroom and retrieving a damp, warm towel for you to clean up with. 

***

“So, where do you wanna go?” He asks, once you're settled in his arms with the blanket wrapping you up. You think it’s just way too adorable, how he fusses over you. Pushes your hair back from your face, makes sure you’re adjusted and comfortable, makes sure your toes are covered, kisses your forehead. 

“I’ve never been to the mountains,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his chest and inhaling, trying to memorize him—this moment. 

“Mountains it is,” he grins. “We’ll go hiking.” 

“Do you think we’ll see woodland critters?” You ask hopefully. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, “I’ll protect you.”

You laugh into his skin. “Tom, I want to see them. I’m not scared.” 

“What about, I dunno, bears?” 

“Bears are cute.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if you’ve really caught him off guard with that one. “You’re something else.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Am I gonna have to hold you back from trying to pet a 700 pound grizzly?” He asks, fingers playing with your shoulder blades. 

You pretend to think about it. “No, but maybe a raccoon….?” 

“Oh my god, go to bed,” he chuckles. “I’m rethinking the mountains.” 

“Oh c’mon!” 

It takes a good hour for you both to get tired enough to fall asleep. The witty banter keeps you awake, like you’re at a teenage slumber party with your best friend. It’s you that drifts off first, because if you don’t get your nine hours you emulate Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. 

[itsbackwoodsbby]

Locker Room Sex

Stephen Curry x Black Fem Reader

A/N: I wrote this for my pleasure. I AM TWENTY, so there is an age difference. I am sorry if you don't like the age gap, but I still am obsessed with this FINE ASS man so don't judge me, judge ya mammy.

Warning: Age Gap! Dirty Talk! Cheating! Swearing! Unprotected Sex!

Summary: You were messaging Steph Curry for a while and then eventually he ghosts you. You were desperately in need to talk to him. For reasons. For answers, on what exactly is going on. You sneak in the Golden State locker room and you definitely get more than answers.

You greeted and told the guys goodbye and goodnight as they left the locker room. He was the only one left in the locker room taking a shower. He turned the shower off and came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. You look at his body. He was very toned for a 35 year old. You bite your lips and start imagining him with the towel dropped.

“Uh… can I help you?” He asks you kind of sternly. You look at him nervously. “Uh yeah. May I get an interview?” He looks at you, “You’re not an actual interviewer.” Reading right through your bullshit. “I’ve heard of ABC, ESPN, and Ballislife. Never have I heard of Big Balls Entertainment.” He reads your fake ass badge your best friend made you.

You swallow hard and you try to come up with a new lie, but you can't. Honestly, you only here to talk to Stephen Curry and possibly even fuck him. But you obviously know the plan is blown, so you walk out. He grabs your arm.

“You know fans can’t be back here either. You can go to jail.” He tells you. You sigh. “I just wanted to see you. You stopped replying to my messages.” He looks at you, “Wait, you’re the girl that I was snapping.” You bite your lips and shake your head before you look down. “And when you stopped texting me, I had to find a way to see you and talk to you.” He starts examining your body as you are talking. “Aye my eyes are up here.” You say sternly. He chuckles, “My bad.” He clears his throat. “Look. I have a wife. I have three kids. I can’t be doing this with you.” You look at him and nod you head. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.” You say as you get up to leave the locker room.

You don’t know why you thought your plan was going to work. You two are 15 years apart. He has a family. You just want him back though. You guys were only talking and sending nudes through Snapchat. It shouldn’t have got this deep as in you sneaking into the Golden State locker room.

A voice comes back to the locker room. It’s Klay. Steph and you run to the shower room and you hide in there as Steph puts on some clean boxers and goes back into the locker room. You listen to their conversation until Klay says he has to go home to see his doggie son, Rocco. He leaves and it’s just you and Steph. You were about to leave and he grabs your arm again.

“Nah. Wait a minute. You can’t leave yet.” He says. You look at him confused, “Maybe we can hook up one time.” He says before caressing your body. “You just said you don’t want to be caught up with me.” You say biting your lip as he squeezes your boobs.

Steph wanted you now. It’s only because he remembered his wife was going for two weeks for a cooking show. The kids were with his parents. So you could be his little cum eater while his wife was away. It wasn’t like Ayesha would care. He can just dispose of you when he got done.

You strip down and go inside the shower room taking your clothes with you. You wanted shower sex and he wanted the same. He smiles at your naked body before you disappear and follows you. He takes his boxers off and pushes you down on your knees.

“You said if you were to see me, you’d suck it.” He smirks. “Do it.”

You start with his tip and slowly lower down an inch. His dick is really big and thick. It’s kind of hard to swallow. You’re a big girl though, so you push through. Eventually you’re damn near eating his dick up.

“My balls need love too.” He says and pushes your head down. You bite your lip before you start sucking on his balls. He smiles and groans even more. You smile knowing you're doing a good job. “Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You go back to sucking and stroking his dick with one hand and massaging his balls with the other and he rolls his eyes in the back of his head. “Fuck, you’re a good at giving head.” He says. “Young ass eater.” He chuckles.

He starts fucking your throat. You start gagging at how rough he is getting with you, but it only motivates him to be rougher with your throat. He hits the back of your throat once and he starts nutting in your throat. You swallow it all. Eventually, he pulls out to see if you did. You smile and stick out your tongue. He smiles.

“Good girl.” He says. You stand up and he admires your wet body. He sucks on your neck and lowers to your nipples. He starts rubbing your clit and he smiles. “You want me to return the favor now or later.” You bite your lips, “Later. I need that dick.” You say.

He picks you up and slides you down his dick. You gasp and hang your mouth open, moaning a sweet note in his ear. He starts thrusting in and out of you. He proceeds to go faster and choke you a bit.

“You take this dick so good, baby girl.” He says groaning in your ear. “And your pussy is so fucking wet.” You whimper. “Ooh shit. You’re so deep. You’re so deep.” He smirks and goes harder. Your legs begin to shake. You’re on the verge of climax already. “Steph. Chill. I’m going to cum.” He chuckles, “Nah. Take it.” He says and goes harder. You try to grip the wall. “Mm, fuck daddy.”

He turns the shower off and heads back to the bench. The steam from the water was making it kind of hard to see. He lays you down with his dick still inside you. He pulls out and starts eating your creamy pussy. You start moaning and gripping the edges. His head game was vicious, it almost made you cum. Then he rams his dick back in roughly. You scream out. He chokes you.

“Chill the fuck out. You can’t be too loud, ma,” He says. You bite your lips. He begins to pound your shit in. “Ooh. Ooh Steph! I told you to chill. I’m going to cum.” He smacks your boobs and goes deeper. “Nah. Say my name.” He groans. “Oh daddy.” You say low. “Loud ma.” He says. “Fuck! Daddy! I’m coming.” You say louder. He chuckles and starts back pounding you. You let out a long moan before creaming his dick up. He looks down, “Yeah. That’s right. Paint this dick.” You cover your face as he starts going deeper. You try to push him away but he just pins your hands above your head.

Suddenly, he starts going faster and faster then you feel his warm liquid fill inside you. He groans in your ear as he does it. He pulls out and watches you leak out both of your juices. He looks down at you as you look at him. The two of you laugh at each other. You sigh and get up.

“Now, I got to shower.” You say and run to the shower. He joins you and you two just shower. You two get dressed and walk out to the parking garage together. He kisses you and rubs all over your body. He practically didn’t want to let go of you. You very slowly break the kiss and giggle. “Chill.” You smile. “You should come with me tonight.” He says. You think about it. You don’t mind but you would rather lay in your own bed tonight. “Nah. I’m going home. Maybe if you need me again, I can stay over.” He smiles, “Ight, lil ma.” You blush and get in your car and he gets in his. He honks his horn as a goodbye and you go to your house.

[boyfhee]

CLOSEST FRIEND AND MORE ⋆ pjs

prompt · “i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you with anyone else.” “what does that mean?” “what do you think it means?” · requested

g · fluff warnings · light profanities, mentions of injury wc · 0.8k

note · writer's block is real and it sucks

“and then, that bastard, that cheating lying bastard, blatantly lied in front of everyone and said that, i pushed him during the game. seriously— can you believe that?” a scoff falls off your lips and you recall the moments from your PE class this morning, which more or less morphed into a fight between you and one of your classmates who claims to have been pushed by you in a game of dodgeball and sprained his ankle when in reality, he practically launched himself towards you and all you did was step aside to save yourself. 

and jay, he’s hearing this story for the fifth time today, in different narratives from different people, with more colourful words for the said boy being served by them on a silver platter.

“no, i really can’t believe that,” he responds sarcastically, eyes focused on the evening sky and then the road as a soft smile rested upon his lips, throughout the walk from school to your place. 

“jay,” you slow down, the extra emphasis on his name to get a serious reply, making him turn to look at you. you stare at him for a second while he mirrors the same blank look at you, before a faint sigh slips off your lips. “you’ve been really quiet today, you know?” 

and not just today but for the past four to five days. jay is a quiet person, actually, but not quiet quiet, not the quiet where you hear six words maximum from him in twenty-four hours. you wouldn’t say you and jay are super close or the bestest of friends and yet still, you can hear him whisper from behind you during classes, making you laugh occasionally, sneaking notes from under the desks, everything that makes maths more bearable for you and everything whose absence for days now has you concerned. 

“is that so?”

“mhm, i almost forgot your voice,” which is an exaggeration on your part, but you’re pretty sure it would have come true had the silence game continued for a few more days. “are you okay, though? is there anything you’re worried about, anything you’d like to tell me?” 

a brief pause follows, a moment of silence yet again, filled with the shuffling of your footsteps on the pavement as he swings your hand back and forth, holding it a little tighter. “well, there is something i’m worried about but i can figure it out myself,” 

you step in front of him, getting a better look at his face and his eyes meet yours. “are you sure?”

“i am,” 

you see your house now, the first one as soon as you'd take the next left. walks with jay are less frequent. he’s either busy with his other friends or after school stuff that your homeroom teacher assigns him, much to his disappointment. walks with him are less often but are always fun, hands intertwined as you both take all the time in the world to cover the ten minutes walking distance from school to your house, since he insists on walking you home everyday. 

walks with him are less common, this might be your ninth or tenth time, but they’re already something you look forward to ever since you wake up. you realise that walks with jay might be the only chance to get to know him better, and thus, you take the opportunity. 

“i know you don’t like stressing people out with your own problems and you rarely talk about them, but i want you to know that you can rely on me,” the two of you finally stop in front of your house and you stand in front of him, taking both of his hands into yours. “you’re one of my closest friends, i’m here if you never need someone to listen to you,” 

he has known you for one month, barely, and you’re asking him to spill his worries to you as if they’re your own, but how does he tell you that you’re the reason he’s losing track of day, noon and night, wondering if there’s even a little chance that you feel the same way as he feels towards you? 

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you, with anyone else,” but the words escape his mouth, leaving him surprised too, as if he has lost control over his thoughts, letting his heart take over his mind, allowing it to make all the decisions. 

you feel your heart skipping beats and pacing relentlessly, quite sure going to pop out of your chest any second. “what does that mean?” 

how does he tell you that you’re the one making him worried with all these feelings that he has for you? 

“what do you think it means?” and the smile on your face morphs into hesitation, heat rising up your cheeks as he takes a step towards you. another string of silence follows as you try to come up with words, but before you could even sort out your thoughts, jay beats you to it. “see you tomorrow,” 

and that’s all he says before walking away, because you consider him one of your closest friends, so how does he tell you that he’s inexplicably in love with you, and that he wants to be something more? 

[sjweminem]

Baby Academy Hoffman & Professor Strahm (ft. FTM hoffman ❤️) fic FINISHED

18+!!!! 🔞🔞🔞

short excerpt to (hopefully..) pique some interest:

"i'm not stupid," strahm declared, now seated relaxedly in his chair. "and i don't think you are either." mark felt heat rising in his face and prayed he wasn't becoming visibly flushed, but the cheeky smile which spread across his teacher's face suggested otherwise. "but," strahm continued, "you're not exactly subtle, you know that?" mark stood firmly in place. "i don't know what you mean," he replied with all the courage he could muster.

original inspo: this ask

(DISCLAIMER: i am skilled mainly in technical/academic/speech writing and haven't written a fic in like 14 years so please be gentle 😭)

admittedly he was distracted. as usual. mark tolerated most classes in the academy as obligatory lessons to endure in order to, some day, achieve his dream of working in homicide, but for now he was stuck with all the other twenty-somethings learning the basics of police work, seemingly over and over again. well. at least he had something to keep his mind occupied during this lesson in particular. however repetitive the coursework may be, mark couldn't deny the eager anticipation he felt upon entering professor strahm's lecture.

mark could watch those hands for hours, even at the expense of learning whatever new information might unexpectedly, miraculously, be introduced in yet another of his many repetitive classes. he followed those hands- his instructor was one for dramatic gesticulations- and willed himself not to imagine how they might feel on his body. willing, however, not necessarily implying success. no, mark still, despite his best efforts, frequently stared until his imagination led to thoughts of those strong-looking palms at his throat, gripping his thighs, perhaps tracing his lips with a rough finger before shoving the others into his mouth.

suddenly the bell rang, indicating the lecture's end, and, once again, mark realized his complete failure to pay attention or take any notes whatsoever. maybe this little crush was getting out of hand. but how was he supposed to pay attention when strahm seemed to regularly, coyly, meet his eyes mid-lesson, in a stare that felt so unmistakably provocative- appealingly domineering, even- and surely was not wholly imagined, not a product of wishful thinking. no, he was certain that if only they could get each other alone...

"hoffman," an unmistakeable voice cut through the silence of the now-empty classroom, just as mark was headed for the door. there was always something about strahm calling him by his last name that tickled him, although he couldn't fully place why. perhaps it was the possessiveness in his voice. "stay back for a minute or two, yeah?" the request sent a small wave of panic through his body. he swallowed hard; surely he was facing a chewing-out for his increasingly noticeable disinterest in, and distraction from, the course subject matter. his nerves only intensified as he observed his professor rise back up from behind the desk and walk towards the door, at which mark was frozen in place.

his nerves fell away momentarily when strahm closed the door in front of them, replaced suddenly by an onslaught of confusion. however these waves of emotion were superseded by something unidentifiable when he heard the distinct sound of the door being locked. his heart raced. strahm was mere inches away from mark now, standing several inches above him, looking slightly downwards with a smile. "lunch hour," he said in a low, near-whisper. "no one's coming to look for me. or you, i'm assuming." mark shook his head, nervously, in affirmation. strahm looked him up and down, conspicuously, before breaking the tiny distance between them in order to walk back behind his desk. he made a casual "come here" motion with his hand as he did so.

"i'm not stupid," strahm declared, now seated relaxedly in his chair. "and i don't think you are either." mark felt heat rising in his face and prayed he wasn't becoming visibly flushed, but the cheeky smile which spread across his teacher's face suggested otherwise. "but," strahm continued, "you're not exactly subtle, you know that?" mark stood firmly in place. "i don't know what you mean," he replied with all the courage he could muster, trying to maintain eye contact. strahm briefly tilted his head back and laughed before looking mark back in the eye with increased intensity. mark could have sworn there was suggestiveness in that stare. sworn it wasn't his own wishful thinking.

"sure," strahm retorted, dismissively, before making a "come over" motion with his hand, beckoning his student to his side of the desk. mark swallowed hard again, making his way behind his professor's workstation. that flush he had prayed earlier hadn't made its way to his cheeks now felt unmistakably present. that heat in his face only deepened when he felt strahm grip his shirt collar, pulling him closer. with their faces now mere centimeters apart, mark felt a hand on his chin- one of the very hands about which he had spent so many classes fantasizing. strahm held him by the jaw to turn his face to the side. he proceeded to lean in close, lips brushing his student's ear. "don't play dumb," he whispered. "you're not good at it."

mark's lips parted as his breath hitched, a visible shudder running down his spine. strahm took the opportunity, this momentary weakness, to grab him by the sides and pull him into his lap. mark sat, straddling him, legs on either side of his professor's. immediately strahm took the opportunity to run a finger over is needy little pupil's full lips, then pulled mark in even closer to move in for a kiss, but not before biting his lower lip, eliciting from him a half gasp-half moan. mark opened his mouth eagerly, allowing strahm to take full control of the kiss. several times he had to wonder if he was dreaming, however his teacher's hands on his hips and thighs felt all too real.

strahm thumbed at the waistband of mark's pants, brazen enough to undo his belt buckle with one hand. mark shivered despite himself and unconsciously spread his legs further to the sides. his eyes were now closed, but at the sound of a zipper they shot back open. oh shit. shit. he forgot to tell- should he have told? how was he supposed to remember under these circumstances? he shifted nervously but made no attempt to remove himself. he was in it now, for better or worse. a hand- that large, strong hand, god help him- made its way under his now open fly and below the waist of his boxer-briefs. he shuddered, despite himself. a look of confusion painted strahm's face as he reached lower but, to mark's relief, his confounded expression fell away, replaced by that coy smile.

"well isn't this interesting," strahm spoke in a low, half-whisper. he ran his fingers through the wetness that had by now undoubtedly soaked through the fabric of mark's underwear. his student barely had time to process the sensation before he felt two long fingers push roughly inside him, followed soon after by a third. "never really took you for a whore," strahm teased, "but, shit. this wet already, i don't know what else to call you." he was smiling and looking up into mark's eyes as he slid his fingers in and out. mark's eyes fluttered shut, breathing labored, sounds he desperately tried to suppress now escaping his parted lips. it was already too much, the precision finger-fucking, but when strahm began to thumb at his clit during his efforts mark felt the little control he had left fall to pieces. he gripped the chair's armrests and buried his face in the crook of the other man's neck, more whining than moaning.

"i should report you for this, you know," the young cadet breathed out with all the strength he could muster. strahm laughed, increasing the intensity of his ministrations. "and will that be before or after you come, hm? before or after i fuck you like you need?" there was a brief silence. "i- i guess," mark replied with an audible shudder, "i can... i can wait 'till after." "good boy," strahm praised. "tight little thing, too." mark lost himself; control and self-respect flying out the window all thanks to the skilled hand of his teacher. "i can take it," he insisted. "take you. anything." he couldn't even care that he sounded desperate by this point.

"anything," strahm repeated suggestively. without warning he removed his fingers and inserted them roughly into mark's mouth, nearly gagging him. "clean up this mess you made," he continued, "and maybe i'll think about fucking you." mark didn't need to be told twice. he sucked each finger clean, tasting himself on each one, maintaining eye contact the whole time. once strahm evidently deemed his ministrations satisfactory he abruptly pulled his hand away from mark's mouth, earning a choked gasp from the young man, and grabbed him by the hips. he eased him off of his lap in order to stand up and once again face his desk, which he cleared of papers and supplies with two swipes of his arm, files and teaching tools rattling to the floor. just as abruptly he grabbed mark's waist- much more firmly than necessary- until he had brought him into a sitting position atop his work surface. now the height difference wasn't so glaring, and as strahm once again gripped mark's jaw to bring the eager student into a kiss, it was as though their lips fit much more nicely together. this kiss, compared to the last, was far more desperate, hungrier. overflowing with need from both parties.

strahm deepened the kiss to forcefully push mark back until he was lying flush atop the desk, his teacher's arms braced domineeringly by each side of his head. strahm moved lower to kiss his jawline, his neck, before pulling back to crouch between mark's legs. impatiently he pulled both shoes off in order to yank his pants the rest of the way down, and ultimately off. mark's heart raced from a mixture of anticipation and exposure. his thundering pulse only spiked further when he felt strahm's tongue on his cunt, dragging its way up to tease his clit. mark swallowed the moan rising up in his throat. "i wish we were somewhere more private," his professor spoke quietly between licks. "want to hear you." he buried his face back between mark's legs before the young cadet could reply. truthfully it was becoming harder and harder not to be heard.

despite strahm's admission there was something about the semi-public aspect of their affair that both parties rather enjoyed. yes, the locked door freed them from worry over any intrusion, but it wasn't as though no one could be right outside. at the thought mark became acutely aware of his labored breathing, as well as the moans which insisted on escaping his throat despite his best efforts. his thoughts were cut short by strahm's low voice. "i'm a man of my word, he said. "i thought about fucking you... seems doable." mark gasped briefly. "please" was all he could say.

strahm stood up to hover over his supine student and reached for his belt buckle. mark thought he was going to pass out, but perked back up, hearing the zipper. he felt a sudden heat blossom low inside him as strahm took his cock out, moaning softly at the sight- god help him he was big. mark was already lost in thought over how good he must feel when he felt strahm slide the tip of his cock slowly up and down his slick cunt. mark shivered and arched his back, further spreading his legs invitingly, parting his full lips in an enticing manner. soon enough he felt strahm push in.

mark inhaled deeply at the sensation and strahm wasted no time pushing all the way in. mark buried his face in the crook of his neck, hands reaching up and around to claw at his professor's shirt, fingernails digging into his muscular back. he threw his head back as strahm leaned down to kiss and bite his throat, stopping to put a hand around it, keeping him in place. his other hand gripped mark's upper thigh. mark groaned, barely believing that what he had fantasized about nearly every day had become a reality. he couldn't control the sharp moans escaping his lips as strahm's thick cock hit and dragged against his G-spot with every thrust. truthfully he felt a bit embarrassed- there was no way he could last. not for any respectable amount of time, anyways. fortunately for his ego, judging by his labored breathing his teacher wasn't far behind.

"son of a bitch. i've been missing out on your pussy all this time, huh?" strahm exhaled. "it's only fair," mark retorted breathlessly. "been missing out on your dick, after all." he noticed himself tightening around the cock inside him, desperate to feel anything and everything. strahm groaned at the sensation, lowering his head to plant another desperate kiss on his student's perfect mouth. mark could taste himself again on his tongue and his breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. he could feel himself getting closer, that unmistakeable, throbbing heat between his legs. "professor... mr. strahm," mark breathed out as seductively as he could, "i'm- i can't," he continued in a whimper. strahm looked him in the eye. "go on, baby," he half-whispered, "hard as you can. let me feel you."

the pet name sent mark over the edge, clawing at strahm's back and burying his face in his neck in an attempt to muffle the noises he was now helpless to control. "that's it," strahm whispered, "that's it. good boy." mark nearly sobbed as he felt the shudder run through the older man's body before he came shortly after. mark swore he could feel the heat of it fill him up and moaned at the sensation. "you like that, sweetheart?" strahm panted into his ear. mark nodded eagerly, unable to even make a coherent sound at this point. he whined again as his teacher pulled out, bracing himself atop his student once more to place kisses on his neck and lower stomach. they both rode out their high as they steadied their breathing together, taking their time. mark couldn't help but smile, placing his hands on strahm's face to pull him in for one last tender kiss before they both redressed. mark would never admit it but he was looking forward to feeling his teacher's cum inside him for the rest of the day.

the tone changed suddenly; strahm backed up with a look of concern on his face. "wait," he began. "you... you can't get pregnant, can you?"

mark laughed at his nervousness and shook his head with a smile.

[gothamdwellings]

One More Fifteen, Please?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Genre: fluff! short blurb

Rating: sfw

Count: 600

Warnings: reader is OC based, preschool teacher reader!, gender neutral terms for reader, reader has a little sister who is vigilante, kissing

Baby: Jay, can you take a 15? It’s an emergency.

It was only three hours into Red Hood’s patrol when he crept through their window. They were still awake, hair pulled back with a clip to leave their hair out of their eyes, but the s.o.s. they sent Red Hood had been an emergency, or so Jason thought. Yet they sat at their desk in their bedroom, fingers tapping rapidly at their keyboard, paperwork for their student on the table. When they noticed the Red Hood standing in their room, they quickly closed everything, shoving it to the proper drawer in their small filing cabinet.

“I am so glad you are here,” they told Jason, smiling wide. He adored their smile, it made his heart melt. His partner could express so many different things through their smile: happiness, worry, thankfulness, love. Now they were showing him relief.

Red Hood opened his arms to his lover, and they stood from their desk chair, feet tiredly dragging on the floor while they made their way to him. It felt like an eternity for them to reach the vigilante, but once they had, his large arms embraced their smaller form, and he felt their less muscular arms wrap around him.

“Keeping Gotham safe, huh, big boy?” They asked sarcastically when the two finally pulled away from one another. The timer in the Red Hood’s helmet stated they had hugged for five minutes and twenty seconds. He only had eight minutes left with them, before his fifteen minute break was up.

“I hate when you call me ‘big boy’, babe,” he complains, crossing his arms. The leather of his jacket makes a noise in resistance to the movement, which usually lead to his partner teasing him about how tacky leather was, fake or real. “Did you need something from me?”

“Oh, yeah, I just missed you!” They smiled wide at him, proud of their tactics to get his attention.

He let out a small laugh, checking the timer on his screen, he only had five minutes left. Time was moving too fast. He pulled them into another hug, smelling their shampoo and then he carefully brought his left hand from the small of their back to the bottom of their chin. He tilted their face to him, once again looking at the time.

Four minutes.

He pulled his red helmet off and revealed a much simpler domino mask. He tossed his helmet on the floor, and then Jason leaned in, pressing a kiss onto their lips. They quickly kissed back, and he could taste their lemon flavored lip balm. He groaned at the familiarity, how safe he felt, pressing his lips into theirs.

He felt at home.

The kiss continued, Jason guided them to their couch, they decided having a bed was too difficult to deal with and opt into something more compact, and he sat down, pulling them into his lap. The two never ended their kiss, and when they got comfortable they kiss began to get deeper.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt your booty call, Red Hood, but your break is over,” the voice of Nightwing rang over Jason’s com placed in his right ear. Nightwing’s voice sounded mischievous, mockingly mischievous.

Jason pulled away from his partner, and they slid off his lap. “No!” They whined, knowing it was over. They knew he still had more hours of patrol to put in before he could come back for the night.

“Sorry, baby,” Red Hood replied, standing up from their couch. He could hear the sound of footsteps in their hallway. “Sounds like your sister is home, tell her I say hi.” He stated as he grabbed his helmet. He put it back on as he bent down to climb out their window. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” they replied before their bedroom door opened, revealing their little sister, still in her own vigilante costume.

“Yo, was Red Hood just here? I thought he was responding to a call in the business district.”

“He was on a fifteen.”

Red Hood was on hour five of his patrol, only three more left to go. His phone buzzed, and the message appeared on the screen of his helmet.

Baby: Is it time for another fifteen?

[eggtartz]

✧ 7th October ✧

Levi Ackerman // Distractions (f! MP reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : brat reader, slight degradation, office sex

it felt too normal as you waltzed into levi ackerman's office with paper in hand, the military police has sent you here to check on the weekly reports of the corps and usually sends you since the captain had a specific fondness to you and reserved for you only

"levi ~!" you sang as you barged in his office with no care at all, earning a small 'tch' from the man as he grew custom to your shenanigans. "what do you want, noisy brat?" he asked, the nickname making you smiled "the reports, duh. the MP has been kicking at me for it" you rolled your eyes and sighed "the reports isn't done yet. the selection just happened yesterday. come again tomorrow" he said with a blank tone as you snapped your neck at him "hah?! isn't done yet? what am i supposed to do then, just go back?" you frowned, hands on your hips

"why? does going back sounds so bad?" he asked, not sparing a look at you. "no, but they'll nag me for it! i hate people nagging at me, you know that!" you said and he sighed "it'll be done tomorrow" he said again. you huffed and sat down on the front chair "i'm not leaving without the report so i'll just stay here" you said, sitting quietly as levi took one glance and scribbled over the paper. it was quiet for a good twenty minutes before you groaned loudly "it's taking so long!"

"that's why i told you to come tomorrow, noisy brat" he glared at you as you kept making small noises of frustrations and boredom "ugh, i need some activity. i can't just sit" you puffed your chest and jumped from your seat, going to the sides of the office. levi kept watching you as he wrote the report while you and your curiosity reaches it peak. "sooo i heard erwin scouted more kids?" you made small talks that surely annoyed levi because you couldn't just shut up. "yes" he answered simply that made you pouted as you approached him. "must be difficult for you, huh?" you asked, a tinge of mischief in your tone that he caught.

"what do you mean by that?" he asked as you smiled "oh, nothing!" you cheekily winked at him as you went to stand up again but oh, how agitated levi was. he was disturbed and you were being so noisy while he's working plus with that mischievous behavior of yours? he snapped.

"come here, brat" he pulled your hand and slammed you on the table and you winced. "the fuck levi?!" you grunted as you rubbed back but levi pinned you down on the table "some people ought to teach some manners and learn how to shut up" he hissed and you rolled your eyes "can't deal with slight noise?" you said with annoyance and it made levi more agitated.

"someone," he unbuckled his belt "has to discipline you" he tied your wrists with the belt making you writhe "this is your thing?" you asked, challenging him but you made a wrong move as he slapped you "shut up" you looked at him with an offended and was going to curse at him as he slapped you again "what did i say? either that mouth gets slapped or you shut the fuck up" he hissed. you snarled "i can say what ever hell i want! i can curse and-" you rambled on as levi shooked his head, finding a way into your trousers "you never learn" he said as he loosened the belt of your pants

"w-what are you doing?" you looked at him with horror but got replied with a cold look from him "talk again and i'll make sure to do more" he threatened, sending unexpected thrill to your crotch that he definitely felt since he was holding your inner thigh.

"what was that? don't tell me you're excited about this?"

"a-am not!" you stuttered

"definitely are. i bet when i rip this shitty pants off, you're leaking wet" he said, a dangerous tone used "do we want to test that theory?" he hummed, hands on the hem of your pants but not taking it off without your permission. it was exhilarating being on this position, all spread wide, hands tied in front of the humanity's strongest "y-yes.." you eventually said and nodded. he smiled and pulled down your pants, your underwear indeed soaked, a patch of wetness in the middle "look at you, filthy one. you like this?" he asked, flicking your pussy through the material and bend down to take a sniff "such a sweet smell" he said slowly, dangerous eyes boring into yours

"l-levi.. levi!" you squealed when he ripped off your underwear, leaving you bare and wet pussy to his view "what a dirty sight" he scoffed and pulled himself back, yanking his trousers off "a sight i'd kill to enjoy again and again" he rubbed the tip of his cock on your entrance.

you made small moans as you looked down, his veiny dick red and angry, waiting to pierce through. "captain.. i'm.. a-ah.." you whined as he thrusted the tip in but quickly pulling back "what did i say? someone ought to teach you how to run your mouth" he mocked as you writhed "y-yes.. i'll.. nnghh.. won't do it again please captain put it in" you whined, teary eyes but he still denied "i dont believe you, noisy brat"

"promise, captain.. please.. give me.. want your cock in me" you sniffled as he smiled again "that's a good brat" he thrusted once, deep and rough

"wasn't too difficult was it?" he taunted as his dick speared into your pussy as your mouth fell open, the heavenly feeling overwhelming you as your hand scratched the table behind you. "o-oh.." you huffed and panted as levi smiled sadistically "c'mon. you have a mouth so brash but falls aparta once you have some dick in you. whore" he pulled your hair as he whispered moans and filthy words into your ear.

"dirty whore. you don't walk around letting me screw you as you please, do you?" he asked, a tinge of jealousy in his tone "n-no, you're the only one" you managed to answer as you whimpered, him grabbing onto your breasts "gonna cum, where do you want me? answer me, y/n" he growled as you whimpered "inside.. inside, captain" you said softly as his pace fastened, looking for the spot as he came inside you. your pussy welcomed his sperm as tour feet twitched and tongue rolled out

"next time, don't be such a distraction. or else, i have to do worse than that"

[done-with-the-shit]

A challenge for dandelion wine

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Venti, Kaeya, Diluc

Note: GN!Reader

You were working in the tavern since Diluc has some business to do and couldn't leave the tavern with no bartender. Venti enters the tavern, silly and joyful as always. "Oh, I didn't think you'd be the bartender, Y/N! How have you been?" "Fine as always." you replied, "How are you? Anything you'd like to drink?" you questioned the bard. "Well, I am a bard and I may sing and play music all the time, but I was a little bored. So I came here to maybe tease Diluc while having some of my favorite wine!"

"Bored you say?" You smirked while cleaning the wine cup. "Why not a little challenge then?" You sit next to Venti with three bottles of wine.

"What's this, windblume?" "Each of these bottles of wine will give you a different reward. For this small ordinary bottle of wine, each sip you take, I will kiss you. For the medium sized bottle of wine, each sip you take, I'll kiss your neck. And for your very favorite Dandelion wine.." you got closer in his face, almost closing the distance between one another. "Each sip you take I'll grind on you~" Venti's face was pretty red after hearing that "Shall we begin?" you gave him the first bottle.

Venti takes five sips for the start. You pull his face by the chin and shut his lips with yours. He whined in your mouth when you suddenly slip your tongue in his mouth. You pull away as he tried to chase for your lips again, but you put your finger on his lips. "Ahahah! More sips, more kisses." "Well, this is pretty small. So it shouldn't be a problem to drink the whole bottle. I might aswell do that." he did as he said, gulping the wine and letting a small trail of wine go down his chin.

When he put the wine bottle down, you cuped his face and kissed him immediately. The kiss was more passionate as he kissed back with hunger, wanting more then just sweet kisses. You tasted the wine when he wrapped his tongue around yours. As the kiss got more heated, Venti grabbed your thighs and lift you up, placing you on his lap. You both broke the kiss after a few minutes. A trail of saliva come out as you both were breathing heavily while looking at each other deep in the eyes. Round two, Venti grabbed the second wine bottle and took ten sips. You lowered your head down his neck and started kissing it like you said.

Small groans came from his mouth as he grabbed the bottle again and continued drinking. You lost count since you couldn't pay attention, due to kissing his neck, but you continued anyway. "Ngh... Windblume." he groaned. Getting greedy for more, he finished the bottle and let you claim him. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you tighter, trying his best to endure the kissing without making much noise. You moved away from his neck noticing the red mark you made. "Don't worry. The collar of my shirt should be able to cover it." he said.

Round three, Final round. Venti took seven big gulps from the dandelion wine. It wasn't to long for his moans to get louder as you started grinding on him. "Y-You're lucky that Diluc isn't here." he stammered, trying his absolute best to not let his moans take over. "Even if he was, you're not that loud, and we're on the second floor. There's nothing to worry about!" you stopped and looked at him in the eyes. He smiled before drinking again. Taking a risk he took twenty gulps from the wine bottle. "Mm~aah~Windblume.." he moaned. You continued no matter what he said as he dig his nails onto your shirt.

You stopped and asked, "You'll be able to continue, right?" He chuckled, "I'll be able to continue on for a while. All of these wine bottles are not even close to my limit. Want me to risk it?" You smirked, "If your ready, go on ahead." He kisses you before downing the whole bottle.

"Aah~ngh...Oh god." You were slowly grinding on him, yet it effected him quite alot. He looked at your lips and couldn't help it. His tongue slipped in your mouth again as he sighs and holds your face. "Windblume." he said between the kisses. You untied his cap and started kissing his collar bone. He held the back of your head while biting his lip to avoid making loud noises. Venti threw his head back and whined loudly. "Windblume, I think I'm...-"

The tavern door opened realizing Kaeya. He closed the door so no one else outside the tavern will see. "My, my. What a scene to witness. Are you claiming your bard instead of working? You don't want to get in trouble, do you?" "Kaeya...I'm sorry you had to see this." Venti weakly looked at him. "It's no problem, Venti. Well, maybe not what you're doing, but maybe as if what I had happen to see. Diluc isn't here, so I might as well grab a bottle." As he went to grab a bottle, you both face each other. "Um... Maybe later?" You give him a long kiss. "Later."

>>MORE OF MY WORKS<<

[deny-the-issue]

Rainbow Drabble Challenge

Orange

GIF by gameofthronesdaily

Red <- previous chapter, next chapter -> Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo

Overall Summary: This is a short love story about Otto Hightower being a sexy bastard. There WILL be a happy ending. The reader is mid to late twenties in age.

Chapter Summary: You offer to paint Ser Otto's portrait and he tests you.

AO3 link

Rainbow drabble challenge

[spinster!reader] [Otto Hightower x f!reader] [Masturbation] [fluff] [893 words]

The evening has barely started when you close the heavy book in your lap. The pages slam shut indelicately, interrupting Otto Hightower’s concentration, just as you knew it would. He looks at you with the scorn of a thousand swords but says nothing. 

“My apologies, my lord. My mind is elsewhere.”

“Then perhaps your time is best spent elsewhere,” he replies curtly, every word perfectly enunciated and slowly spoken.

His words have little effect on you. You are accustomed to his cold demeanor by now. He shows no softness with anyone but his daughter, but you suspect he cares for you all the same. Who else would send you a sweet gift of strawberries than the man you spend most evenings with?

“Before I go, may I ask?” You inquire innocently, hands tracing the book’s ornate leather cover gently to soothe your rising nerves. 

Otto’s eyes follow the movement intently before placing his quill neatly on his desk—a silent signal for you to continue. 

“A portrait would compliment a man of your station well, my lord. Yet I see none here.”

“My station is not lofty enough for such frivolous gestures,” his words bite, tone laced with poison. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” you bow your head, knowing silence was the better option but choosing to go on. “Is your name not recorded in the historical texts of Oldtown as the Hand of the King?” 

“It is,” he confirms, tone cooling into indifference but his continued glare makes your skin prickle. 

“I would be honored to paint your portrait, my lord, if you would allow it.”

He scoffs, a cruel smile painting his face in the orange glow of the evening fire. “I would trust only the royal painters to fulfill such a task”

“It is true—I am not recognized in any formal capacity for my arts, but I am quite skilled. I would not shame you, my lord.”

“Show me,” he commands simply, although it is clear from his spiteful tone that he thinks little of your arts. 

You pull a notebook hidden in your dress folds and flip to a clean page, eager to prove yourself. He does not need to know how much you’ve practiced. How many pages did you rip from the binding of this very notebook before coming here today? Hidden under a loose floorboard, now only to be gazed upon when you are overcome with desire. 

Glancing up from your quick beginning lines, you find him scratching away at the letter again, and your shoulders relax. You normally seek his piercing attention, but, at this moment, it would guarantee your failure.  There is no room for nervous hands and fleeting thoughts. 

It has to be perfect. 

Your intense focus renders the world silent; there is only you, the paper, and the most regal man you’ve ever seen, poised in relaxed concentration over his work. 

While you are toiling away, losing yourself in the minute details of his face, time passes unnoticed. 

It is the clearing of Otto Hightower’s throat that rips you from this busy trance. When your gaze finds him, you have to blink the fatigue away. The fire is low, painting the room in an enchanting amber hue. How much time has passed, you wonder? 

Ser Otto’s exhausted face and burnt-out candles say you’ve overstayed your welcome. 

You straighten from your crumpled posture, a blush creeping into your face as you carefully rip the paper from your notebook. Rising slowly on weak legs, your heart pounds in your chest. It takes just two steps to arrive at his desk, yet they seem the length of the throne room. 

You nervously place the sketch in his outstretched hand, breath hitching as his hand brushes yours.  

It was the faintest of touches, yet the most significant in your life, causing the heat in your face to also settle between your thighs, hot as dragon fire. Even so, it fails to distract you from the knife-edge of his approval or disdain. 

After a spell of tense silence, Ser Otto sighs heavily, shifting in his chair as he offers you the paper with a curt nod. You cannot hide the joy blossoming in your heart, and smile warmly when you bid him goodnight. 

Blessed by the man himself, this sketch lives in your nightstand drawer, unlike the others. It lights a fire in your soul, one that keeps you awake far into the night. Your fingertips dance over your nightgown, the temptation of the forbidden too much to bear. 

You’ve come to terms with living the rest of your life alone. It is your wish to live free unless the right match comes along. As the years passed, the hope of dual happiness faded and you set on attaining a full life despite the loneliness. 

You know the ways of pleasure. From sneaking books to traveling hidden passageways to peek into brothels, you learned of the art of sex. There is nothing quite like the euphoric spasming rush that takes over your mind and body–and tonight’s put all others to shame as you cry out Ser Otto’s name through hand-covered lips. 

The following day you spend a hefty sum on the royal paints needed for a painting of this caliber, eager to begin. 

You want only the best for Ser Otto, even if your affections can never be spoken aloud.  

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 2

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, might not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, he is a bit of a dick though, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~1800 (literally double last chapter, lol)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on the first chapter! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please don't hesitate to ask!

And thanks so much to @theradioactivespidergwen for the adorable divider!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705

You checked your smartwatch for the time as you rushed down the sidewalk towards Daredevil. Your GPS had told you that it'd be faster to walk there from the Bulletin than take a cab given the time of day, but you were starting to wonder if maybe you should've taken your chances.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted the restaurant up ahead then slowed a bit so you could catch your breath before reaching the entrance. Okay. It's fine, I'm on time, I got this.

You looked up at the restaurant. Daredevil was displayed in dark red lettering above the entranceway, with different patterns of dots underneath each letter. Huh. Interesting choice.

You reached for the door handle and pulled, only to find it locked. Shit.

You looked at the sign next to the door. 

Hours of Operation:

Sunday: 11 AM - 2 PM

Monday: Closed

Tuesday - Thursday 5 PM - 10 PM

Friday - Saturday: 5 PM - 12 AM

You reached into your purse to call the restaurant… only to realize that you had left your cell phone sitting on your dresser at home.

You sighed. Great.  

"Can I help you?"

You turned as a pretty blonde-haired woman walked up and unlocked the door. "Oh, um, yeah, I hope so."

You dug a business card out of your wallet and handed it to her. "I'm with the New York Bulletin . I'm supposed to be interviewing Chef Murdock in a minute, but I left my phone at home so I'm unable to let him know I'm here."

The woman's eyebrows raised as she looked at your business card. "You're interviewing Matt?"

"Um, yes?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. "Just a second, I'll be right back."

You waited as the woman went inside and locked the door behind her.

A few minutes later she returned and unlocked the door, this time with a friendly smile on her face.

She held the door open for you. "Come on in."

"Thanks." You stepped inside.

"I'm Karen," the woman said. "I run front-of-house."

"Nice to meet you," you replied.

Karen led you to a table near the right corner of the front entrance. "Matt'll be right out. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

You shook your head. "Oh, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Okay, if you change your mind, let me know."

"I will, thank you."

You took your notepad and pen out of your purse, silently cursing yourself again for leaving your phone -- which was your only audio recording device -- on your dresser.

Since you couldn't even continue your brief research on Chef Murdock while you waited, you looked around instead.

The walls were all painted a soft white with the exception of the back wall, which was exposed brick with a built-in fireplace running along the middle of it. Side tables holding bottles of wine were the only choice of decor, giving the space a simplistic look.

You kind of liked it.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty… then thirty. What is the holdup, you thought to yourself. Surely he can't be that busy since they're not open for service yet .

You were just about to get up to go ask Karen if Chef Murdock had forgotten you were there when the kitchen door opened and Chef Murdock himself came strolling out.

His photo really hadn't done him justice -- his biceps strained against the sleeves of his chef's jacket and his jawline looked like it could cut glass.

Your eyes trailed up to his, which were hidden by the same red-tinted sunglasses he had been wearing in his photo. 

You swallowed and stood as he approached, sticking your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself. "Mr. Murdock, thank you for meeting with me. I was told that you don't do interviews."

He ignored your hand and sat. "I don't usually, but it seems like this one was… unavoidable. And it's Chef Murdock. I didn't spend three and a half years in culinary school to be called Mr. "

You hesitated before sitting and looking down at your sparse notes. "Okay, well then. Um, Chef Murdock, I'd like to start with a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Mmm."

You took a deep breath. "Okay, so you're a Michelin star chef, correct?"

"Three." 

You looked up at him again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a three Michelin star chef."

"Oh. Um, excuse me." Asshole . "As a three Michelin star chef, what made you want to open a restaurant here in Hell's Kitchen? Why not somewhere like Manhattan?"

"I was born and raised here in the Kitchen."

You smiled up at him. "Oh, so do your parents still live here? They must be very proud."

Chef Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Well they probably would be, except my mother abandoned me as an infant and my father was murdered shortly after the accident that blinded me as a child, which you would know if you had bothered to do a modicum of research."

Your eyes widened, your smile quickly falling from your face. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." That at least explained the glasses and the dots on the signage out front. It's Braille. "I had no idea, I --"

"-- didn't bother to come prepared, yes, that much is clear." Chef Murdock crossed his arms. "If this is the sort of unprofessionalism that everyone who works at the Bulletin shows, then I'm not sure I should be sitting down with one of their reporters. We're done here."

You opened your mouth to protest as Chef Murdock stood and stalked off, shocked that he had suddenly stopped the interview before it even had really started. 

You stood and put your notepad and pen in your purse, fighting back tears. What the hell just happened?

This was the first time you had ever failed at an interview -- you were known for both your professionalism and your ability to get to know your subjects on a deeper, more personal level in order to get them to open up to you.

You headed back to the lobby of the restaurant, willing yourself to not cry while you were still in the building.

Karen smiled over at you. "All done?"

"Um, yeah," you mumbled. "Could you let me out, please?"

"Sure thing." Karen unlocked the door for you, looking at you curiously. "Hey, are you okay?"

You shook your head. "Fine, fine, just gotta go."

You pushed past her and exited the restaurant, waiting until you had made it into the alley next to it before you burst into tears.

Matt sighed as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his desk. At least that's over . He hadn't gotten to where he was by half-assing anything and he certainly wasn't going to let anyone ruin what he had worked so hard to rebuild, especially some so-called 'journalist' who couldn't even bother to do some simple research before sitting down for an interview.

"What the hell did you do, Matt? Karen just told me that that journalist from the Bulletin just ran out of here practically in tears."

Matt looked up and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Foggy's familiar footsteps stopped in front of his office. "She came completely unprepared, Foggy. I wasn't going to waste my time sitting down with someone who couldn't even bother doing any sort of research before coming."

"That's because she hadn't had time to do any! The interview needed to happen right away because of deadlines and stuff for the paper so it got sprung on her at the last minute, just like I sprang it on you at the last minute."

He paused as Karen's footsteps approached. "Kare, do you still have Ms. Taylor's business card? Maybe we can try to salvage this."

Taylor? "Wait a minute, who?" Matt replied confusedly. 

"Kelsie Taylor? The food writer from the Bulletin ?" Foggy sighed exasperatedly. Jesus, Matt, did you even try to remember her name?"

Matt shook his head, beginning to feel bad for being so harsh towards you. "That's not who she said she was."

"Matt's right, it definitely wasn't her," Karen added. "At least, that wasn't the name on the card she gave me."

"Who was she then?"

Matt said your name. "She did say she was with the Bulletin though."

"Her card's on the front podium," Karen said. "I'll go get it."

Foggy turned back to Matt as Karen left. "You never were going to do the interview, were you?"

Matt winced. The last time he had agreed to any kind of journalistic endeavor had ended in disaster and almost complete ruination of his culinary reputation, and quite honestly he was terrified of it happening again. "I was , but --"

Foggy groaned. "Don't even give me that bullshit, Matt. Do you know how hard I had to work to even get you that interview? They were going to give the front page to Fisk , of all people!"

Wilson Fisk, who owned Kingpin's, had been suspected of being behind several popular restaurants' sudden closures (more than one being due to 'mysterious' kitchen fires), as well as having bought most, if not all, of the positive hype and accolades he and his restaurant had received. 

Matt scowled. He would be damned if he was going to let that bastard steal the spotlight out from underneath him. "Fisk? Really? He's not even a real chef! His sous comes up with most of his recipes, he just modifies it a bit and slaps his name on it."

"All the more reason for you to get that front page interview."

Matt heard Karen's footsteps approach again. "Got her card?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Karen replied.

Matt could smell the subtle scent of your perfume as Karen passed Foggy your business card -- something lightly floral with a hint of vanilla.

Foggy read your name off of your business card. "This says she's the Features writer."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Features? You said the food writer was doing the interview."

"I assumed she was but I guess since it was a front-page article they wanted someone else to do it." Foggy pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped at his screen. "Hang on, I'm gonna pull up the Bulletin staff."

Matt waited as Foggy pulled up the list of staff then tapped on your name. "Is this her?" he asked Karen, presumably showing her your picture.

"Yeah, that's who it was," Karen replied.

Matt nodded as his watch beeped with the time. "We have to get ready to open, but I'm going to go over to the Bulletin 's office in the morning to see if I can talk to her and straighten everything out."

He just hoped you accepted his apology.

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 17

Give someone a brand new look

Okay, I've had the idea for this one for quite a while!! Thank you Kloktober for giving me the excuse to write it.

With that said, please enjoy Toki giving Skwisgaar a brutal makeover~

“Ams you dones yet?” Skwisgaar asked, starting to get tired.

“No ways.” He heard Toki say. “Ams just getting startsteds.”

“Toke, ‘aves been heres for hoursk or twenties minutes.” Skwisgaar lowered his shoulders. “What ams you even doings?”

“Just shut ups and lets me works!” Toki told him off, though judging from the tone of his voice, he wasn’t angry.

Resigned, Skwisgaar reclined his back against the chair and kept strumming his guitar aimlessly. He was pretty sure he had been here all morning already, or at least it felt like it.

He was minding his business at the breakfast table when Toki ran up to him, telling him he needed him for something. Not quite believing the urgency Toki claimed there was, Skwisgaar followed him nevertheless, moderately curious.

When they reached Toki’s room, Toki had finally confessed he wanted to give him ‘a brutals make overs’ but he couldn’t say it in front of the rest because they would get jealous and would want one too. 

Skwisgaar had raised his eyebrow. “Amsnt makeovers for peoples to look bettors? I don’t needs one.” He frowned, preemptively offended by whatever Toki was trying to imply. “Your musk stash howevers-”

“But it ams goings to be totallies brutal!” Toki insisted, closing the distance between them with one step. “Please?” He stared at Skwisgaar with sad puppy eyes, way too close for comfort. “It wills be funs, Skwisgaar!”

Skwisgaar really hated when Toki looked at him like that, like his entire livelihood depended on this particular whim of his. “Eugh…” Fortunately for Toki, when it came matters unrelated to music, Skwisgaar was very easy to convince. “Fines.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.

…And here he was, not even allowed to open his eyes because Toki insisted on it being a surprise. Not like he could see himself with a mirror anyway, but Toki was being really stubborn about it. On the bright side, it was helping Skwisgaar practice his playing with eyes closed. He never knew when being able to play Dethklok’s entire discography with his eyes closed would come in hand. 

“Aw!” He whined when Toki pulled on his hair violently and without warning. 

Instead of apologizing, Toki scolded him instead. “Oh, you big babies!” Just as abruptly, he tugged a handful of hair from the lower part of Skwisgaar’s head

“What on Odin’s name ams you doingks?!” Skwisgaar frowned, almost opening his eyes out of annoyance.

“Ams givings you a brans new hairstyles!” Toki said, like the question was fucking stupid. “No mores of dat borings middle parteds hairs. You ams going to be a new Skwisgaar’s from now on!”

“I don’t wants to be a news-” His sentence was cut short by another pull. “Aw!” He moaned in pain. “Toki!”

“Why don’ts you tries takings a nap?” Toki sounded exasperated by now.

“Why don’ts you tries being nicers to my goldens mane?” Skwisgaar shot back. Toki didn’t reply, though he was more careful from his movements afterwards. Grumbling, Skwisgaar settled against the chair and started counting guitars. He was past a billions krillions when one of the guitars grew gigantic and swallowed him whole.

“Skwisgaar…” Something tapped his cheek and he slowly blinked his way out of dozing off.

“Eugh?” He managed, with a hoarse voice.

Toki was smiling at him. “Ams done.” He said and gave him a hand mirror. 

Quite disoriented still, Skwisgaar looked at himself in it and almost didn’t recognize the person staring back. 

His hair was tied into messy space buns, though one was visibly higher than the other and his part was made into a crooked zigzag. His lips were teal, a smudge on the corner of his mouth, shining with silver highlights. His eyelids, on the other hand, were hot pink and sort of uneven. Glittery purple blush adorned his cheeks and when Skwisgaar turned his head, he spotted holographic star stickers on the sides of his face. 

“Eugh…” Was the only thing he managed to say.

“You ams a space metal princes now!” Toki explained proudly and shoved his bear plush into Skwisgaar’s free hand. “And Deaddy Bears ams your princess whats you gots to save by killing aliens with the powers of metal!” He smiled at him. “You likes it?”

“Eugh…” Skwisgaar glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like a lady. “Toki, dis ams…”

“Yes?” Toki nodded with expectation.

Skwisgaar grimaced, hoping his expression would be telling enough. “You knows…”

Clearly, Toki did not know because he kept waiting for him to say something. Skwisgaar noticed his fingers were stained with purple and teal, hands sparkly from the glitter. Next to him, the bed was full of make-up of a wide variety of colors: lipstick, eyeshadow, powder, mascara, lip gloss, stickers, etc. And also, a lot of drawings of the space guy he was supposed to be. Something about it tugged at his heartstrings, despite his better judgement. 

He sighed. “It ams pretties cool, I guess.”

Toki beamed at him, almost insufferably so. “Ams going to takes a picktures.” He said, grabbing the polaroid on his bed. “Says cheese!”

“Wait, Tok-”

The camera made a clicking sound and the photography came out of it soon after. A delighted Toki showed him the picture. “Amsnt it cools?” He asked.

Somehow, Toki had caught him in the split-second right before his expression twisted into concern and he tried futilely to reach for the camera. Instead, it almost seemed like a glamour shot of Skwisgaar’s new look. 

He raised his eyebrows with surprise. “Hey, dat amsnt so bads.”

Toki let out a chuckle, eyes glued to the photo. “Rights?”

Smiling fondly at him, Skwisgaar momentarily forgot what they were talking about. “Ja, it looks good.”