#i just wish I could say as a disclaimer : ´that’s not me !! you don’t realize how drained I am !!’

[retroaria]

⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS Rafayel: Questions That Keep Us Up At Night (18+)

I started writing this yesterday but then a certain SOMEONE made me brainrot over Xavier, so here we are today. My only goals today is to finish the Xavier brainrot I have and then get a request page set up. Wish me luck and enjoy the torture I put our local fish boy through. This was supposed to be another crack fic but alas here we are.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Suggestive Questions, Non-Human Mating Suggested, Teasing Synopsis: You just needed to know the answers to some of the questions that kept you up at night. Who knew Rafayel would be so...flustered over them. Word Count: 1,597

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Questions That Keep Us Up At Night Reader x Rafayel

“So do Lemurians lay eggs?” It had been an innocent question, one that you asked so casually you hadn’t even bothered to look up from your phone. The room was suddenly silent, the noises of chopping from earlier had disappeared and you finally looked up from your screen to see Rafayel just staring at you from the kitchen.

His face looked complex, a mixture of amusement and horror crossing it as he processed what you had just asked him. He blinked a few times before taking in a deep breath to reorient himself. He should be used to your eccentric questions at this point, hell he often asked you some pretty weird things. He just wasn’t expecting this on a Tuesday afternoon.

Rafayel finally managed to look back at you, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so curious about Lemurians.” He was putting on an air of indifference it would seem, “Out of all the questions though, why this one? You aren’t thinking of trying to do something to me, are you?”

“Okay well first off, always thinking about that.” You began, making Rafayel choke on air for a split second, “Second off, I’m just curious. Mammals are known for giving live birth, but most aquatic life lay eggs. So where do Lemurians fit in all this?”

“If I’m not mistaken, mammals are classified as having hair or fur on them, so by those standards, Lemurians would be considered mammals, or did you forget that with your brain in the fish bowl?” Rafayel teased, a sly smirk crossing his face.

“Okay that might be true, but the lower half where the babies would pop out of is fish based. Covered in scales. Mammals don’t have scales unless you’re referring to Pangolins.” You explained to him as simply as you could.

“A pangolin?” Rafayel asked, having no clue what those were.

“Scaly anteaters.” You explained.

Rafayel was silent for a moment, “...Did you look that up just to see if mammals could have scales to prove your theory?”

“Obviously…although now that I think about it, if the bottom half is that of a fish and the top half is a mammal, would you lay eggs, hatch them, and then produce milk to feed the baby?” You said, tapping your lower lip in question.

“I’m stopping you right there…why are you asking all these questions?” Rafayel said, trying to get back to what he was doing earlier.

“These are the questions that keep me up at night, and only you can answer them for me, Raf.” You admitted. You didn’t even want to think about the multiple times you had woken up in the dead of night and laid in bed, thinking about Lemurian eggs for literal hours. 

Rafayel smirked as he leaned over the counter, “Does this mean you’ve been having thoughts of me when you’re trying to sleep?”

“I’m not trying to incriminate myself, Raf.” You said, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I’m just saying that the question about Lemurian eggs, amongst several other things, have been on my mind.”

“Other things?” Rafayel murmured just loud enough for you to hear it. He looked at you, curiosity but also hesitance crossing his features.

“Well ya, for instance I know that some aquatic creatures have two.” You said, holding up the number two with your fingers.

Rafayel sighed, looking almost pained as he wanted to clarify what you were asking, “Two of what.” He was hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.

“Dicks, penis, cocks, levers, fun handles, joysticks.” You said, listing off both the actual names as well as some euphemisms you knew.

Rafayel once again stopped what he was doing. You watched as he put the knife down next to him. You wanted to ask him why he was stopping since he had been so deadset that he’d prepare lunch this afternoon. You had been waiting ages for the salmon salad he was making.

“Really?” He asked, gesturing to the food in front of him, “Right in front of my salad?” 

You couldn’t help but stare directly into those beautiful eyes of his, “You didn’t answer any of the questions, Raf. What are you hiding?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually have to answer your questions.” He said, leaning over to where you were sitting at the bar counter.

You then decided to press your luck even more, “So if Lemurians supposedly cry pearls, is their cum like pearlescent or something else entirely?” You watched as Rafayel’s cheeks took on a rosy hue and you barked out a laugh, “Oh that reaction tells me everything! So it’s not like humans!”

Rafayel groaned, covering his face with his hands and shook his head, “Why do you want to know about Lemurian…cum…I hate that I even have to ask that.” Rafayel said as he gave you a disappointed glance.

“It’s just a question, now I have more.” You said as you stood up from your stool, “Do Lemurians ever enter heats or ruts? Would Ebb Day be considered one of those because that day you were kinda…” You thought back to Ebb Day. He had looked so damn good with his scales and the slight sheen of sweat. If only he wasn’t so damn delirious that day you might’ve made a move to pursue something more with him.

“I was kinda…?” Rafayel said before stopping himself, “Wait, hold it, bite your tongue, I don’t think I want to know what’s going through that head of yours. I think we’re done with questions for the day.”

You couldn’t help the pout that went on your face, but Rafayel was looking away from you, not daring to make eye contact right now. His cheeks and ears were flush as he picked up his knife and continued cutting up salmon..

You slowly stalked over to him until you were standing right behind Rafayel. He, of course, knew you were there as he scrapped the salmon on top of the lettuce and put the dangerous object into the sink. As soon as he was cleared of any knives that he could stab you with should he break due to your insanity, you tugged on his sleeve.

Rafayel, despite his pouting, let out a sigh. He then moved a bit away from the counter and you didn’t even realize what had happened until you found your back digging into the counter of the kitchen. Rafayel had quickly spun you around and pinned you, both arms locking you in place as he gripped onto the cool marble.

You caught the confident glint in his eyes as he pulled a full 180 from earlier. His cheeks, ears, and chest were still a bit flushed, but he seemed to be in control for the moment, “If you’re that curious, I could always give you a demonstration of Lemurian mating habits.” He finally said.

You were stunned into silence, your mouth hung open and you could feel your cheeks heating up as you looked at Rafayel. Then, after the shock wore off, your entire face lit up at the prospect.

“Wait really? Oh man, I need to grab my notebook. I have so many hypotheses on things that I can’t wait to try out!” You said, placing your hands on his chest, “When are we gonna do this? Now? Later? Now?”

It was Rafayel’s turn to be shocked at your enthusiasm. He was aiming to fluster you like you had done to him; he wasn’t expecting you to want to jump his bones right now. The only thing he could utter was “You have a journal…?”

You nod your head, your hand going over to his neck where you remembered those iridescent blue scales had been. You pressed down slightly at the area and you could feel Rafayel’s pulse jump. You licked your lips at the thought of seeing them again, as well as his tail that he swore up and down he didn’t have until one day he slipped up and admitted to it.

“Of course silly, how else am I gonna know the best ways to unravel you?” You said, your head tilting to the side as you smirked.

You watched as Rafayel managed to turn into a darker shade of red, his mouth opening and closing before his eyes narrowed, “If I had known you were like this, I would’ve been more cautious about letting you into my home.”

“Not only did you let me in, but you gave me a key so I can stop by whenever.” You teased him, “Hopefully I will catch you in a compromised setting one day.”

Rafayel groaned, his hands going to your hips, placing his head over your shoulder, “You’ll be the death of me…” He murmured out before taking a deep breath, “Were you serious though, about uh…”

“Only if your offer is on the table.” You said and Rafayel chuckled, his warm breath fanning over your neck.

“It was supposed to be a joke.” He teased, “But with how excited you got I feel it would be cruel to take the offer back now.”

“It would be so cruel.” You said, your arms going around his shoulders, “Although perhaps we should move things a bit…slower. We can discuss it over lunch?” You said and Rafayel nodded.

“That sounds good.” He said, not moving from his position as he nuzzled his face into your neck “But in a few minutes. I’m comfortable right now.”

Your hand found its way into his purple locks as you gently played with them, “Sounds good to me.”

[sturniolos-blog]

reader (w/ matt) who struggles w/ an eating disorder and while matt was on tour it became worse, and when he arrived back from tour he finds her passed out on the bathroom floor and noticeably underweight (only if you’re comfortable)

Eating Disorder PT2 - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - eating disorder, throwing up, fainting, insecure, swearing, mentions of blood

disclaimer: third person POV

—————————

8:09pm

Eating was always a problem for Y/n. Growing up a bit bigger, not fat no. But to her she was more than fat, to herself she was huge.

Always comparing herself. ‘What if i was that size?’ ‘What if i went down 10 pounds?’ ‘I wish i was that weight’ ‘I wish i looked like madi’

And the list went on.

So this brought her here, one evening, while her amazing husband Matt was on tour, brought her in the bathroom, sitting on the floor in front of the toilet puking her brains out after she had stuck her finger down her throat because she thought she ate too much, but now she couldn’t stop, throwing up so much her stomach started hurting.

She finally let out one last gag before lifting her head up letting out a pained groan, standing up and flushing the toilet as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

Right before everything went black.

—————

9:14pm

“She’s not answering. It’s been 6 hours since i last talked to her, guys.” Matt sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, Matt, she’s probably okay, she could be sleeping.” Nick comforted, putting his hand on Matt’s back, rubbing softly.

Chris nods his head, agreeing with Nick.

But Matt shakes his head, “You guys don’t know my wife, I know my wife. And i know she’s not asleep at nine o clock.” Matt lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Okay, Matt, calm down.” Chris lets out a scoff.

Matt stands up, “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Matt raises his voice, pointing at Chris.

As Nick and Chris look at each other and not say anything Matt shakes his head, “I-i’m sorry. Sorry.” He swallows harshly and takes a breath before sitting back down. “It’s just.. we’ve been going through a bad patch lately, right before I left for tour. She wasn’t okay, guys. She wasn’t.” Matt tears up, looking up at his brothers before wiping his eyes.

—————————

before Matt left for tour

“Matt, stop.” Y/n stood up from the kitchen chair.

“You haven’t eaten all day, Y/n. Come on, sweetheart.” Matt says, putting his hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

“I’m not hungry! God, do you listen?!” Y/n raises her voice at Matt.

This happened a lot through Y/n’s eating disorder, it made her moody and mean to the people she loves. Matt understood that so he kept his composure.

“You have to be hungry, babe, i haven’t seen you eat in like two days.” Matt shakes his head, a soft look on his face.

Y/n groans, “Because you’re never here! You’re always at work-”

“No. We are not doing this, you are not doing this. You are not going to turn this around on me so i feel bad. Y/n, you have a problem and if you don’t eat then im calling your therapist.” Matt threatened, looking down at her.

Y/n sighed, rubbing her head before sitting down and looking at the plate of food Matt had made her.

It was steak, mash potatoes, and green beans. She almost threw up at the sight of it.

“A couple bites is all i’m asking for, baby.” Matt says softly, putting a hand on her back.

Y/n picks up the fork that was laid neatly on the plate before grabbing the knife also.

Her hands were shaky, making it hard for her to cut the steak. When Matt realized this he grabbed the utensils from her hand and cut the steak in tiny pieces for her.

He puts the knife down before using the fork to pick up a now cut piece of steak.

Matt uses his other hand to put it on Y/n’s jaw, his thumb tracing her jawline softly.

“Open.” He instructed as she looked at him nervously.

Y/n slowly opened her mouth as Matt stuck the piece of steak in there, she almost gagged but instead she took the steak off the fork and held it in her mouth.

“Chew, baby, come on, n/n.” Matt sighed as he watched her.

Matt watched as her jaw started moving as she chewed the piece of food in her mouth, a couple more times before he watched her swallow it.

“Good job, sweetheart.” Matt smiled, kissing her cheek softly, making her half smile.

“Couple more?” Matt suggested, making Y/n nod slightly.

—————————

present time (9:16 pm)

“Her eating disorder is back?” Chris asked, his mouth slightly dropped in shock.

Matt lets out a breath and shrugs, “I guess.” Matt says quietly before he puts his face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have left her. God, i’m a terrible husband. My wife is probably starving herself and…” Matt trails off before he stands up and puts on his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Nick looks at Matt with a confused look on his face.

“I need to go see my wife now.” Matt says, an angry tone defined in his voice as he grabs his keys.

Chris let’s out a laugh in disbelief, “You’re gonna leave tour?” He asks, shaking his head at his brother.

“I care much more about my wife then i do this stupid fucking tour. I’m fucking leaving.” Matt spits, leaving the hotel room.

Chris and Nick look at each other in silence.

“What the fuck just happened?” Nick scoffed.

Chris shook his head, “No clue.” Before taking a sip of his pepsi.

—————————

10:34pm

It took Matt over an hour to drive home, him immediately rushing in the house after he had pulled in to the drive way.

“Baby!? I’m home, sweetheart!” He called out, throwing his keys down before checking the downstairs, not seeing Y/n anywhere.

He let out a nervous sigh before he practically ran upstairs, his eyes catching glimpses of the light coming through the opened bathroom door.

His eyes then trail down to a body.

His wife.

“Y/n!” Matt yelled, running into the bathroom and on his knees, taking her body into his arms, him letting out a pathetic sob at the sight of his wife.

The unconscious girl had a cut on her forehead, presumably from when she fell.

Matt sniffled as some of his tears dropped onto Y/n’s shirt.

He had his phone in his hand and was dialing 911, whispering a couple of “Come on, baby..”’s or “Please, Y/n.. please”

“911, what’s your emergency?” A female operator was heard after a couple rings.

“M-my wife! I need an ambulance! I came home and she was on the bathroom floor passed out! Please!” Matt sobbed, another hand going to her cheek.

“Okay, sir, they are on the way. What’s your wife’s name?” The lady asked.

“Y/n. Y/n sturniolo. Please, please get here.” He whimpered out.

“Okay, again they are on the way. And what is your name, sir?” The lady questioned, sounds of clicking from her keyboard coming through the line.

“Matthew sturniolo.” He breathed out before letting out another sob. “Please, my wife-”

“Okay, Matt? I need you to take a couple breaths for me. I need you to answer these questions with a clear head can you do that for me?” The lady spoke calmly, making Matt let out an almost incoherent ‘mhm’ but it was loud enough for her to hear it.

“Great. Now, is Y/n still breathing?”

Matt’s eyes glanced to her belly that rose and fell with every breath, making him nod to himself and then speak to the lady. “Y-yeah, she’s breathing.” He spoke.

“Okay, good, Matt. Good. The ambulance is on the way and should be there in 3 minutes tops, in the meantime take some breaths of your own.” The nice operator constructed.

Matt nodded even though the lady couldn’t see her. He took breaths. His thoughts racing.

My baby.

She’s alright.

You’re not dead, Y/n.

You’re with me.

His thoughts kept going until he heard sirens.

—————————

9:37am (next morning)

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, immediately being blinded by sunlight that was shining through the windows.

She rubbed her eyes before taking in her surroundings.

Monitor. Couch. Windows. Flowers. But most importantly Matt.

He had his eyes on his phone, not noticing Y/n had waken up.

Y/n cleared her throat, “Matt?” She whispered.

Matts head shot up, along with his whole body immediately standing up. “Hi, baby.” He smiled softly at her, bringing one of his hands to push hair out of her face.

Y/n smiled before she looked around again, “How’d i get here?” She asked, her voice scratchy and quiet.

Matt shook his head, “You had an accident, baby. You fell and hit your head.” He told her.

Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, picking up her hands to see that an iv was in her right wrist and a hospital bracelet on her left. She let out a small, ‘huh’

Matt looks at Y/n before a knock at the door brings them both to look that way, a doctor walked in.

“Y/n, good to see you. So, do you know what happened?” The doctor asked, sitting on a stool.

Y/n nodded, “Matt told me i fell and hit my head.”

The doctor glanced at Matt and nodded, “Right. But you fell because of something, do you know what that something is?” The doctor asked her.

Y/n knew, 100%. Matt knew that she knew. Y/n knew Matt knew that she knew. But that didn’t change her answer. “No..” She said quietly, making Matt rub his face.

“You haven’t had proper meals lately. You passed out from not enough protein in your body. When’s the last time you ate a good meal?” The doctor continued to question.

Y/n shrugged, “More than a week ago, i guess.” She sighed, avoiding eye contact with Matt as his jaw dropped slightly.

He left for tour a week ago. This broke Matt’s heart.

The doctor nodded, “Okay well you have two IV’s in your arm, one keeping you hydrated and one giving you some nutrients. We’d like to keep you for another night but after that you are free to go.” She smiled.

Y/n nodded, “Thank you.” She mumbled as the doctor nodded back before leaving the room.

After a couple seconds of silence Matt speaks up, “You could’ve talked to me.”

“You left.” Y/n whispered.

“But if i had known what was going on beforehand then i wouldn’t have, Y/n!” Matt raises his voice at her, making her look at him with glassy eyes. He sighed, “I’m sorry. I just love you so much and if you keep doing this then i’m going to lose you a-and that can’t happen. Okay? It can’t!” Matt let out a sob, putting his face in his hands.

Y/n grabbed his wrist, “Come here, baby.” She muttered as she pulled him onto the bed with her.

He left out a couple more sobs as his head ended up on her chest, her fingers running through his hair.

“You won’t lose me, Matt. Never ever.” She said, kissing his head.

—————————

um anyway

taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo @mattybswife @streamermattsgf @sturnolio-luvs @sturnioloslurps @marlenafortuna @lovergirl4387 @sturniololovesss

[jointherebellion215]

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone. 

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.” 

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond. 

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word. 

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his. 

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” 

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food. 

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!” 

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing. 

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind. 

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap. 

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves. 

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends. 

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.” 

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly. 

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.” 

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you. 

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.” 

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted. 

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

[multiplefandomwritings]

How to be a mum

pairing: reader x the grid (platonically), hinted Pierre Gasly x reader                              

warnings: swearing, assault (someone is punched in the face), description of injuries/bruises, throwing up, passing out, unconsciousness, mentioning of hospital, mentioning of crash

summary: Being the only female driver on the grid basically makes you everyone’s mum - and that with just in your mid-twenties.

notes: feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! Another part will follow, so let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

disclaimer: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 4.1k

Your parents had raised you to be a good, kind, caring and helpful person. Where you could, you helped other people out. On top of that, you were basically illiterate to the word no, it was almost impossible for you to tell other people no. No matter the time or the troubles it cost you, you were always there for others. Essentially, that meant little time to yourself, which you didn’t mind most of the time. You loved helping people, and it made you happy.

So, when you were promoted to Formula One, you almost immediately become the mom of the grid. All the drivers, despite some considerably older than you, needed help or supervision. It was like a crazy playhouse and sometimes you felt like you were the only sane and responsible person. It was a menace, someone always needed something. But then again, you loved to help, and you collectively adopted all of them. Metaphorical, of course. But the last weeks were a lot, maybe too much, and you were exhausted. The different time zones had taken their toll on you.

However, when your friends ask you to join for a night out, you agree. It is the Thursday before the race weekend, and Charles, Pierre, Carlos, and you went out to grab some dinner. Mexico is warm and full of life and buzzing, and you had spent an hour looking on the internet for the perfect place to go.

When you arrive there, you are happy to have Carlos with you, as he speaks Spanish. You sit down, you talk, life is good, and you enjoy spending time with your friends. Until suddenly, Charles whinges – he had cut himself God knows how. “Let me see!”, you demand and he shows you the cut on his finger. It isn’t very deep, but it is bleeding a lot. You get your purse, rummage in it for a minute, and pull out a band aid. “You are full of wonders!”, Carlos chuckles while you wrap up Charles finger. “All done!”, you say and plant a gentle kiss on the band aid. Charles blushes and you laugh. “I am sorry, my mum always used to do it to me, so it is a force of habit!”

After dinner, you all enter the car. Charles makes you sit in the passenger seat, even though you would have preferred to sit in the backseat and close your eyes for a bit. But Charles insists, arguing that you give directions the best. So, of course you stay awake and make sure that all of you will arrive safely in the hotel. Before Charles pulls out of the parking lot, you turn around. “Any music wishes you gu-“, you are about to ask, when you realize something. “Put you goddamn seatbelt on, Pierre!”, you scold the guy in the back seat. “Yes mum!”, Pierre jokes, but puts his seatbelt on. Carlos and Pierre request some songs, and the way back is actually quite fun as well.

When you arrive, you say your goodnights and then you are finally on your way to up to your room. You want nothing more than sleep and are already laying in bed in an oversized shirt and short pants when someone knocks on your door. You get up and look through the peephole. In front of your door is Mick and he looks miserable. So, you open the door - of course you do. “I don’t have a seat for next season, they screwed me over!”, Mick says, his voice is breaking. You let him in and end up spending of your night consoling the younger driver. You hold him, let cry, gently play with his hair until he falls asleep. You fall asleep not long after him, holding the blond boy in your arms.

Micks alarm rings painfully early. He blushes and apologizes when he realizes that he fell asleep in your arms, but you wave it off. Once he left, you shower and get ready for your breakfast date with Pierre. Pierre and you had become closer in the last months, and sometimes spending time with Pierre was the only time where you could properly relax. “Good morning!”, you greet the Frenchman, and he engulfs you in a hug. “Are you okay, you look tired.” “Yeah, sure, I am okay!”, you assure him. You enjoy the breakfast; Pierre makes you laugh a lot. Afterwards, the two of you get ready and drive to the track together for Friday testing. You carry a huge bag out of the room and Pierre just laughs before he takes it for you.

The testing goes well, all in all. The car is good this season, you might even land on the podium this weekend. But then again, you are happy when everyone crosses the line safely. And you are always happy when your friends are on the podium, maybe even happier than if you stand there yourself. Sometimes you wonder how you made it this far – while you were competitive and scored good results, you were not as fierce in your ways as most of the other drivers. Still, you managed just fine, and many people saw great potential in you.

After the testing, you hug your teammate, Lando. “You seem to really have gotten the hang on the car, I am proud of you!” He smiles at you. “Thank you, y/n!” You glance down at your phone. „By the way, I think you should get going. You have an interview in 15 minutes!“ He nods. „Oh yeah, thank you for reminding me!” You wave it off. “No problem, and now go! I will see you later!” You rush the boy out of the garage, then you are on your merry way to look for Checo. The man had invited you to stay with his family for dinner and for the night and since you adored his children, you had happily agreed. You carry the bag, that is full of presents for his kids, and a thank you present for Checo and Carola.

“Checo!”, you call out to the older driver. He lights up when he sees you. “Hola, corazon!” Most of the drivers call you nicknames because you are that close with them. Checo for example is like an older brother to you. He pulls you into a hug. “Ready to go?”, he asks you. “Give me one minute, I need to say hi to Max, otherwise he is offended again!”, you laugh and walk deeper into the Red Bull Garage. “Verstappen!”, you yell and like a demon summoned he appears immediately. “Y/n!”, he exclaims, smiling widely. You hated that everyone always painted Max to be an asshole while he really was a ray of sunshine if you were able to gain his trust and friendship. You greet him with a kiss on the cheek and talk to him briefly before you leave together with Checo.

Carola already stands in the door when you arrive, and you practically sprint out of the car to engulf her in a tight hug. “Hola!”, she says laughing and motions for you to come inside. You excitedly bubble to her before you spot the three little kids and you heart becomes even fuller. They almost attack you with love, you speak to them in the few Spanish sentences you know, giving out presents. When they run off to play with the new toys, you turn to Checo and Carola and hand them their presents. “You are too kind, y/n”, says Carola and the three of you hug again.

After dinner, you help bringing the kids to bed, tucking them in, trying your best to read the Spanish children’s books, which results in giggles from all sides. When the kids are asleep, Checo, Carola and you sit up with a glass of wine. You get to bed not too late, and the next morning you and Checo drive to the circuit together.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun is warm on your face and life is buzzing around the paddock. The moment you exit the car, you are swarmed by fans. You sign their stuff, take some pictures, answer questions. You can hear the cameras click. Even though you had been in Formula One for two years now, you were somehow still more often than not the star of the show. Often it was praise, sometimes it was stupid comments, sometimes gossip. By now, the media had attached an alleged affair to you paired with any driver. It was quite fun actually, sometimes you and your friends teased the media. Going out for dinner with Charles on Monday, Lunch with Daniel on Tuesday, going for a walk on Wednesday with Lewis, partying on Thursday with Max, having a late breakfast in the sun on Friday with Lando. Acting like you just got caught. It was the funniest shit in the world to you.

Qualifying went good for you, for Lando as well. You had gotten everything out of the car, and that makes you content. When you drive into the paddock, you are happy and bubbly, spreading good mood. That is, until you look at the little screen in the garage and spot Esteban crashing into the wall. “Oh god, is he okay?”, you breath out before you rush to the medical quarters. The medics tell you that he has to go to the hospital to be checked out thoroughly.

„I will go with him!”, you say without hesitation. Since none of his family was there, you offer to go to the hospital with him, no questions asked. On the ride there, you hold his hand and whisper words of encouragement to him. When you arrive, he is taken by the doctors, and you have to wait. As soon as the doctors tell you that he is and will be okay, you call his family to tell them the good news. When you can go in the room with him, Esteban looks a lot better. You pull him in a gentle hug and make sure that he arrives by his hotel room safe and sound.

By now it’s the middle of the night and you sigh. In a few hours Yuki and you will meet in the gym because he has asked you to show him some meditation and yoga tricks that would help with his mindset. You promised to show him before the race so that he could use it right on track. You decide to sleep the three hours you would get and go to your room.

You wake up feeling completely exhausted. On top of that you had overslept, so you decide to skip breakfast and just head straight down to meet Yuki. It is quite fun, and you feel a bit refreshed. However, by the time you arrive at the track, you find yourself in a low. You are very well aware that you possibly shouldn’t participate in the car, your lack of sleep endangering you and the others. You go to your driver’s room, splash water in your face and then you meet up with your personal trainer. Somehow, you find whatever concentration is left in you, and channel all of it. When going over one last reflex training and everything goes well, you are feeling a bit better about participating. And you are right. You even score in the points, which makes you happy.

After the race, you are scheduled for an interview. Arriving a bit early, it is not your turn yet. Charles is still being interviewed. You watch Charles doing his interview, and for once it seems like you are graced with one minute of peace. Until you suddenly hear someone yelling. “Charles!” “What is that?”, Charles asks and looks just as confused as you. You find the source of the scream before he does. Daniel stands on the balustrade of a roof close by, shouting and waving. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Be careful, for fucks sake!”, you scream up to him, before you are on your merry way to drag him down there with your bare hands, if you have to.

You manage to get him to step down after a few more shenanigans. You rush down again, arriving just on time for your interview. It is actually a respectful interview for once, the interviewer showing genuine interests for your driving and not for anything else. Somehow, despite your tiredness, you are the best version of you, joking with the interviewer.

After the interview, the debrief happens, and then you head straight to the hotel. Your flight was going tonight because you want nothing more than a few quite days and nights in your own apartment. Pierre had offered to drive you to airport, which you gladly accepted. When you get out of the car, Pierre exists as well and pulls you in a hug. “Get some rest, Cherie, you look tired!”, he tells you and you grin crookedly. “You don’t even know, Gasly!” The two of you hug, and then you are on your way back home.

When you step into your apartment, you almost start to cry. You are so relieved, and you look so much forward to just sleep. You will only spend three days before you have to leave for the next race again, but you full on intent to spend most of that time in bed sleeping and relaxing. You order some take-out food and head to bed right after. Everything is good, until your phone wakes you up in the middle of the nights. It is around four in the morning, and you groan. Max´s name shows up on the screen. You wonder how the fuck he managed to get back to Monaco as quickly as you. You pick up, of course you do.

“Heyyy!”, slurs Max and you know what he wants before he can say something. “Where are you?”, you ask, already half out of bed, “I will come and get you!” You arrive at the club half an hour later, a bottle of water and a bucket with you. You get out of your car, and look for Max. You find him in an alley next to the club, surrounded by two guys. Speeding up, you step in front of Max the moment before one of the guys throw a punch at him. Instead of Max, the fist hits your face, and you almost fall over. You shake your head, and stare down the guy who profoundly starts to apologize to you. You scoff. “I suggest that if you don’t want me to call the cops on you, you get the fuck out of here!”, you threaten, and they leave immediately.

You sling Max arm over your shoulder and manoeuvre the drunk man to your car. He is slumped over, his body weight seems to have doubled, and your face is throbbing. He doesn’t seem to realize what just happens, and instead throws up on your shoes. You have to take them off and drive home with just your socks. Somehow, you manage to get him all the way to his apartment, where you make sure that he drinks some water. He falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow and starts to snore. You prepare him breakfast, place water and painkillers on his nightstand, and make your way back home – still in socks. When you arrive home, you text him about the breakfast. Your face still aches, and when you look into the mirror, a big purple bruise is already forming, and the skin around your eye is turning darker by the minute. You groan – it would be a pain to cover that up.

You get back to bed, but you cannot really sleep. Your head is killing you, so you get dressed, put a hoodie on and big sunglasses. Luckily, no one sees you in the streets, and you arrive at the doctor’s office without any incidents. The doctor knows you - ever since you lived in Monaco, you came here. He examines your face and tells you that most likely you have a mild concussion, which explains the headaches. He tells you to rest a bit, and if you do that, racing wouldn’t be problem next weekend. You thank him, pick up some of the recommended painkillers, some make-up to hide the bruise and then you go back to your apartment.

You have two more hours of sleep, before your phone rings again. Daniel asks if you want to go and have breakfast with him because him and his girlfriend are having troubles and he needs someone to talk to. You assure him that you can be at his place in latest an hour. You get up, jump under the shower and afterwards you manage to cover up the mark. On the way to his place to pick up some groceries for the breakfast. Half an hour later, Daniel lets you in his apartment and you talk for what feels like five hours. You barely eat for breakfast, the headache and a nauseous feeling overwhelming you. Daniel doesn’t realize, he is just happy you are here, and you are more than happy to help.

This evening, you don’t get to bed as early as you had wished, because you talked with your family and your best friend. You firmly tell yourself, that you would sleep most of the day tomorrow before you would head to the next race. However, your plans are crossed, when Charles calls and asks if you can help him buy a present for his girlfriend. Of course, you accept and spend most of the day out with Charles, visiting different shops and boutiques. When you get home, you pack your bags and go to bed, because you have to get up early to leave for Brazil. You were already not looking forward to the time difference, not knowing if your body could take it.

Lando, Charles, Pierre, Daniel, Max, and you had decided to take the plane together. It was usually more fun than flying alone, but this time you wouldn’t have minded. A bit of peace and quietness would have been nice. However, when you see the boys on the airport, you are happy. They are your friends after all, and you loved them dearly.

“I am hungry!”, Lando whines almost as soon as you board the plane. He sits on the opposite side of you. You knew that this was going to happen. You open your bag pack and whip out 6 neatly packed lunch packages. “I gotcha!”, you tell him and throw him one of the packages. It contains two sandwiches, some cut vegetables and some small snacks. You know all their diet plans, so every package was a bit different. You had gotten up extra early that morning to make sure all of them had something, knowing that they would possibly forget to prepare something.

Lando thanks you profoundly, and you just smile at him. You loved the boys, even though it wasn’t always easy with them. You are still wearing your sunglasses, because the bruise around your eye had become even darker, and your unprofessional attend at make-up didn’t cover it properly anymore. You are not ready to show the boys, because you don’t want them to worry, and you don’t want Max to feel guilty. He had texted you that he remembered parts of the night, and that he remembered how you stepped in front of him. You had assured him that you were fine. Lost in your thoughts, you drift to sleep, your sunglasses still on.

You are awoken barely 30 minutes later by loud music. You almost jump out of the seats, the boys laughing. “Very funny”, you murmur, but have to smile a bit. It could’ve, maybe should’ve annoyed you, but you were not one to hold grudges. “Why are you still wearing your sunglasses, mon ange?”, Pierre teases you and you shrug your shoulders. “Because it looks cool!”, you argue half-heartedly. Before you can react, Pierre pulls them off your head and gasps in the same motion. You try to cover your face with your hands, but it is too late. Pierre´s reaction has drawn all attention on you. “Jesus, what happened to you, y/n?”, Pierre asks, all teasing has left his tone. “Nothing”, you are quick to lie. “Didn’t look like nothing!”, he sounds a bit angry, and you sigh. You remove your hand from your face and show him and the others.

“Oh my God!”, breathes Max out, “So something happened after all?” You sigh again. “Nothing bad, it is just a bruise and a blackeye!” Daniel shakes his head. “You should have told us!” “I know!”, you defend yourself, letting your shoulders hang, “I just didn’t want you guys to worry!” In this moment the guys realize that maybe sometimes they need to take better care of you as well. However, the scope of your state is not yet fully obvious to them.

After you told them the story, Max apologises again, and again, but you wave it off. “Max, I would do that again any day, you are like a brother to me”, you give him a warm smile and hug him. He looks like he feels a bit better, your head on the other hand is killing you. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, where you throw up once. You brush your teeth, put some water in your face and tell yourself to get your shit together. When you return, you sit down again. Pierre sits down next to you, opens up his arms and you gladly accept. Daniel puts a blanket on you, and you sleep the rest of the flight in Pierre’s arms.

You wake up feeling a tiny, tiny bit better. The weekend goes by. You again sleep too little - one of the boys always needing something that you were happy to help with. The devil works hard, but you really worked harder. Qualifying went better than ever and you wondered if you maybe should always need to drive sleep deprived. On Sunday, you almost fall asleep in the meeting before the race, and you know you should probably just cancel the game. But you sit down in the car anyway and start to race.

“P1, I repeat, P1! Y/n, you did it! Your first win!”, screams one of your team members over the radio. You whoop and pump your fist in the air. “Can I do donuts, please?”, you beg, and everyone laughs. You do a couple, and then you drive to your garage, where everyone jumps in your arms, and you cry tears of joy. “Yes, yes, yes!!”, you yell over and over again. On your way to the podium everyone congratulates you, as there is not a single soul on the grid that dislikes you. You had even managed to woo Christian Horner with your kind nature.

When you step on the podium, Max and Charles are there, and you spray each other with champagne. At the end, they lift you on their shoulders, and the fans are going ballistic. You take another sip of the champagne and realise that this might have been a mistake. You feel terrible dizzy all of a sudden when you step down from the podium. Downstairs, Lewis and Seb wait for you. They are about the only guys on the grid that don’t need your help, and act like your parents, rather than the other way around. “Good job kid!”, says Seb and pulls you in a tight hug. Lewis ruffles your hair and grins. “You deserve that win, now go celebrate!” You nod and start your walk to the McLaren paddock. The cameras follow you; you smile and wave for them and for the fans.

At the paddock, all of your friends wait for you. While you are excited and want to get to them as soon as possible, your legs feel incredible heavy and wobbly at the same time. You reach Pierre, who lifts you up and spins you around, which is really not good for you. When he sets you on the ground again, you grab his arms and have to hold onto him. You feel like the ground below you is an ocean, and among the waves you cannot plant your feet there properly. You look up at Pierre. “Pierre”, you whisper, “I think I am about to pass out.” With that, you slump down in his arms. He tries his best to hold you up, slinging his arms around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as the others realize, something is wrong, a wall of people is built around you and miraculously, the media misses the fact that you are unconscious in Pierre Gasly´s arms. At least for now.

[starkura]

mahal kita | izana kurokawa

notes: you and izana normally speak english, inspired by the movie “past lives” , might be ooc

disclaimer: i used google translate, i apologize if there’s any mistakes or mistranslations

edit: i dont rly like this but its been sitting in my drafts for too long now ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ

izana has trouble sleeping at night, so you tend to stay up with him until he falls asleep. but, you often fall asleep before he does. one night, he was finally able to fall asleep. however, you somehow couldn’t fall asleep that night.

you admire izana while he is sleeping soundly. it’s been a long time since he got proper sleep. you on the other hand were still wide awake. you don’t mind, it was nice to watch izana finally getting some rest. since you usually fall asleep before him, you never knew how izana slept like. until tonight, you found out izana was a sleep talker.

“mahal ko…pakiusap huwag mo akong iwan.” izana softly spoke while sleeping.

“izana?” you say quietly.

“Sa totoo lang hindi ko alam kung ano ang gagawin ko kung wala ka. pakiusap, wag mo akong iwan at manatili sa tabi ko habang buhay. Pangako mamahalin kita magpakailanman.” izana continues.

realizing that izana was a sleep talker, you wonder what he was saying. you didn’t understand tagalong at all. even if you woke izana up, he wouldn’t even remember what he was saying. so, you didn’t dare to wake him up.

“kung malungkot ka, andito lang ako para sayo. Kung masaya ka, ako ang magiging dahilan kung bakit ka masaya. at kung galit ka, maiintindihan ko kung bakit ka.” he mutters.

that was the last of what izana said while asleep. you wished you knew what izana was dreaming about. whatever he was having a dream of, he was at ease. you never seen him so at peace with himself.

—

you managed to wake up before izana did. he had slept in. he walks into the living room and finds you sitting on the couch watching television. you notice him and paused your show.

“how’d you sleep last night?” you ask izana. izana rubs his eyes, still trying to fully wake himself up. “i slept good…actually.” he remarks. you hum in responses.

“that’s good to hear.” you comment. izana feels as though you want to say something more, but he feels as though you’re holding back from saying anything.

“how’d you sleep? did i keep you up all night?” he questioned. you look away from him for a moment to collect your thoughts. “i didn’t get much sleep. you were sleep talking all night long and i was curious about what you were dreaming about.” you pause for a long moment.

“did you know that you dream in tagalong?”

izana looks at you with a surprised look. “no, i didn’t know that.”

“i didn’t either, i guess because i never stayed up long enough for me to know.”

there was a brief moment of silence. izana was a bit confused because you seemed to be upset about it. he just didn’t understand what you would be upset about. he didn’t know what to say, considering that he didn’t even know what he said last night.

“are you- upset? i don’t know why you’re upset and i’m just…confused.” he confesses.

“i’m not upset at you, i’m upset with myself.” you tell him.

“but, why?” izana gives you a sympathetic and confused expression on his face.

“i just feel like when you speak tagalong, i feel like you have more emotion. i could learn the langauge and know what you are saying, but i think i will never truly understand how you are feeling. you speak from the heart when you speak tagalong. something you never do when you speak english.” you explain.

“i guess that i feel like i won’t be able to understand that side of you. it feels like there’s a whole part of you that i don’t even know of. i know it’s stupid and confusing, but i just think you speak whole heartily when you speak your language. it makes me wonder what you dream about. i wonder if you slept talked in tagalong before.” you continue.

“i think i understand what you are trying to say. i don’t know what i said last night and what i was dreaming of. but, i hope you know that whether i speak tagalong or english, i will always speak highly about you. that’s something you can always be sure of.” izana says reassuringly

“mahal kita. i love you, okay?” izana says.

“i love you too.”

translations

kung malungkot ka, andito lang ako para sayo. Kung masaya ka, ako ang magiging dahilan kung bakit ka masaya. at kung galit ka, maiintindihan ko kung bakit ka - (if you're sad, I will be here for you. If you are happy, I will be the reason why you are happy. and if you are angry, i will understand why you are)

Sa totoo lang hindi ko alam kung ano ang gagawin ko kung wala ka. pakiusap, wag mo akong iwan at manatili sa tabi ko habang buhay. Pangako mamahalin kita magpakailanman. - (I honestly don't know what I would do without you. please, don't leave me and stay by my side forever. I promise to love you forever.)

mahal ko…pakiusap huwag mo akong iwan - (“my love…please don't leave me”)

mahal kita - (i love you)

[modelbus]

I swear after this I will do requests... this is just something old for me to put up! I've had a busy past few weeks and I swear I'm fighting to do my requests. Disclaimer: I haven't played COD, and reality is what I decide (kidding, feel free to educate me on COD)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Gn!Reader

Romance Readings

It was a guilty pleasure, and you knew it. Watching your money drain (as if you had any other need for it) as you indulged was saddening, but not saddening enough to make you stop. Other people got into drugs, or smoking, or alcohol, or some other high-inducing thing. Not you, though.

You got into romance novels.

The enjoyment of them started when you were a kid, curled up on a couch with a book splayed across your legs. Romance was, at its core, an idealized concept. Something to be chased but never obtained. And for you, the chasing was in reading about the relationships. You preferred the good - who doesn't? - but a bit of angst never hurt a soul. Certainly not you.

But in the military, you couldn’t exactly tout a romance book around. “The Seven Year Slip” was adorned with a cute and cartoony cover, sure to catch Soap’s eye and invite endless teasing. So, instead, you got clever about it. Price had a plethora of bookshelves in his office, filled to the brim with war books. All nice and shiny hardcovers with removable dust jackets.

All you had to do was slip one of those dust jackets over the cover, and it suddenly seemed like you were the best soldier ever. Everyone was none the wiser, and you got to indulge in what you enjoyed doing: smiling at the fictional couples you wish you were.

When you pulled it out to sit guard over the safehouse, Soap had groaned. Loudly. 

“You take this soldier shit too seriously.” He had grumbled, rolling his eyes. You didn’t retort, didn’t bring attention, didn’t care enough.

His (mostly joking) opinion wasn’t important to you. Soap was nice, you loved joking with him, but when it came to this? You can put up with the teasing comments over what they think your reading habits are. God forbid they actually find out what you’re reading.

That’d be a very shit day for you.

“Never seen someone smile so much at a military tactic handbook.” 

Your head jerks up, eyes wide, smile vanishing from your face. You knew that gruff  voice, although you were far more used to it without the tilt of amusement in it. Ghost.

“...It’s riveting.” You say defensively, knowing Ghost isn’t the type to make a quip and let it go.

“I’m sure. I don’t remember it having characters, though.”

Oh. Oh shit.

You’ve been caught.

“Can’t believe you got away with it for this long.” Ghost huffs, sitting down next to you. “Hand it over.”

Wordlessly, you hold the book out for him. He thumbs through the pages, keeping a finger on the page you were on so you don’t lose your place. After a moment he slips off the fake dust jacket, holding up the real cover: a cheesy image of dandelions being blown away.

“Could be worse.” He notes aloud.

“...there have been worse.” You admit, cheeks flushing red.

He chuckles, going back to the page you were reading. It’s only after a minute has passed that you realize he’s fucking reading it, making you lunge for the book to pull it away.

“Don’t read it!” Carefully, you slide the fake dust cover back onto it to hide the actual book.

“I’m bored out here, and you’re denying me the only entertainment?” Ghost asks, somehow monotone and amused at the same exact time.

You hate him. Next time he’s getting his ass kicked in the field, you won’t help that asshole.

“It’s a romance book.” You spit, actively feeling your cheeks get redder by the second. “Hardly something you’re interested in.”

“I’m interested in not fallin’ asleep. I’m reading it.”

“It’s my book!”

“And I could tell everyone it’s a romance book.”

You stare at him, and he stares back. Ghost is blackmailing you. You’re getting fucking blackmailed over a book. Was it even worth it at this point?

“I’m still trying to read it. And no, you can’t read it aloud.” You try feebly, but your grip on the book is already loosening.

“I’ll read over your shoulder. Move it.”

“Ass.” You grumble, but shift so he can loom over your shoulder ominously. Settling your eyes on your book, you choke on air at the scene you’re on.

It’s definitely not a scene you’d want Ghost reading over your shoulder for, that’s certain. Your headstrong lieutenant, reading a rated-R scene. You’re never going to be able to look him in the eye again, oh God.

“Keep reading, doll.” Ghost says lowly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You dug the grave. Lie in it.”

Swallowing, you focus on the book, trying to speed-read through this part. Behind you, you can practically feel Ghost grinning. “What if I wasn’t done reading the page?” He asks.

“Shut the fuck up.”

[gaysindistress]

Связи (n.) connections - two

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: Cursing, guns

Word count: 2.6k

part one | series masterlist

taglist: @unaxv @identity2212

“Don’t even think about it,” the hand squeezes my arm as I try to look up to confirm what I know to be true.  “Walk.”

“Let go of me,” I mumble and try to pull my arm away but it’s useless. He has an iron grip and I know there will be bruises by the morning from how hard he is grabbing me. 

Good. it’ll give me a reason to slit his throat. I find myself thinking and a horror fills me at my own thoughts. Not even five minutes in my father’s presence and I’m already slipping back into that way of thinking. 

“You think you’ll survive if I did that?” my captor grumbles, jerking me along towards the edge of the room. “Look around, Oksana. How many of your father’s men do you see? Hm? How about my men?” 

On cue, the crowd erupts in a frenzy of cheers and chants when we reach the edge of the room and he pulls me fully into the shadows. I let out a groan of pain as my back hits a wall and the heavy sound of hands slamming next to my head catches me off guard. A looming figure cages me against the cold stone and blocks my view from the party…the fucking party that’s started in honor of my sister’s death. 

“Tell me what you see,” the figure demands and my eyes are straining to make out any features. 

“All I see is a fucking dick head who grabbed me and threw me against a wall.”

A chuckle. 

A familiar chuckle. 

James Barnes is the figure that all but dragged me to this hallway and slammed me against the wall. The Pakhan of the Barnes Bratva is the one who’s leaning over me and demanding things from me like I’m one of his side pieces. Bucky, the man my sister loved more than her own family and probably died protecting, found me in a matter of minutes and fear floods my veins as the realization hits me. 

He takes notice of my sudden silence and smirks, “What do you see now?”

“A. Dick. Head.”

His smirk never fades but grows and he yanks me away and down the hall with both of my hands in one of his massive ones. During our little “detour” the party has turned into something from the movies and my father’s men have come to line the hallway walls instead of the main room. Protecting their sweet Pakhan as if he isn’t a Soviet breed killing machine. 

They bow their heads and avert their eyes when we walk past and I wish just one of them would look at me instead of acting like a coward. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that they know who I am from the way they do everything to avoid making eye contact. They most certainly know who Bucky is and it ignites my infernal hatred for him and my father again. 

At the end of the hall is a set of black metal doors; a contrast against the red decor and white marble of the house but a menacing sight no less. An older man I don’t recognize nods to Bucky before he opens the doors and steps aside to let us in. I throw a pitiful look in his direction but he’s closing the doors and disappearing into the hall. Another set of doors halts us but this time it’s opened when Bucky types in a code into a small keypad off to the side. 

And what awaits us is my worst nightmare. 

My father is sitting in a disgustingly large and overwhelming red chair at the back of the room with my mother and remaining sister sitting on the matching couch. Yelena is staring up at the ceiling with her arms crossed while Melina is reading a book as if this isn’t the world's worst family reunion. 

“Ах, моя милая Оксана! Я так рада, что ты смогла приехать. Мы скучали по тебе,” Alexei says with his fake smile that never reaches his eyes. 

Ah my sweet Oksana! I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve missed you.

I say nothing. I can’t. It’s sludge in my stomach and molten lava in my tongue. 

“Приходите. Садись. Давай догоним.”

Come. Sit. Let us catch up. 

Bucky hauls me towards them when I don’t move on my own and I stumble, falling into him. He catches me with a grunt and stumbles backwards himself before shoving me to the couch. Yelena makes no attempt to acknowledge me and Melina raises an eyebrow at the bounce of the couch but nothing else. 

Typical. 

“My darling Oksana,” Alexei starts and my voice finds itself again. 

“That’s not my name,” I blurt out and now all eyes are on me. “Not anymore. I go by Y/N now.”

“Y/N,” he says as he draws out the letters. “The name your mother called you. I remember how you got it, don’t you, Melina?”

She sighs and nods. 

“Alexei,” Bucky says harshly from where he’s been leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. 

“I know, I know,” my father grumbles and pins me with a sudden serious stare. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I imagine it’s because Nat…” I stop. I can’t say it. 

“Yes, sweet Natasha is dead but not to worry, Y/N. Your life isn’t in danger or at least it won’t be soon.”

I narrow my eyes at him, confused and his next words so nothing to clear it up. 

“Antonia has decided that she needs to enact revenge and has been making our lives difficult as of late. She’s already made an attempt on Yelena and well as you can probably guess, made a successful one on Natasha’s. I fear that the unseen protection I once offered you isn’t enough anymore and we both know that your agent Danvers will do nothing if it means she can get close to Antonia or me for that matter.”

“Antonia as in Dreykov’s daughter?” 

“Who the fuck else would it be?” Bucky snaps and we exchange a nasty glare. 

Alexei huffs but continues, “But being the amazing father and businessman that I am, I was able to broker a peace treaty so to speak.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably and I study the way he’s drumming his fingers on his arm although he’s trying to hide it. 

“What kind of treaty?” I ask while still watching Bucky. 

“A beneficial one.”

I roll my eyes and give my father a blank stare, “for you. It’s always only beneficial for you.”

“Would you rather me let you die?”

“You haven’t had an issue doing just that for the last ten years.”

His eyes harden and he leans forward as he speaks to me, “I didn’t know where you went. I only found you three years ago.”

I lean forward too, “I wish you hadn’t.”

Melina finally speaks up and says my name in a way only a mother could. 

We both return to semi comfortable positions and stare at each other. 

“You’re marrying Bucky,” Yelena casually states. Her eyes have closed but she’s still leaning her back back against the couch with her blonde waves hanging over the back. 

“What?” Is all I can think to say. I look to my father and then to Bucky for anything. Denial, confirmation, laughter, fucking anything at all but I’m met with blank stares and the severe anxiety building in my stomach. 

“We need the numbers and resources. Antonia isn’t…”

The words sound fuzzy and I know I’m missing important information. 

“…Natasha was the first choice and I think we all can agree that Yelena is not an option so that leaves you, my youngest daughter and out last hope.”

“No.”

The word slipped so easily from my lips I didn’t even realize it was me who said it. 

Bucky makes a noise that I assume is meant to be a chuckle but being the devil reincarnated means he never does such a thing and it’s a strangled sound instead. 

“Y/N,” Alexei warns, “Antonia has made threats against our lives already. I’ve done what I can to protect you and let you live your life. I cannot do that anymore so i have no other choice but to do this. You have no other choice but to do this and if you can’t find it in your heart to do it for us then think of Natasha. Her death will not be in vain.”

“I think you missed explaining the part where a marriage will keep me any safer than leaving me the fuck alone.”

“He can offer you more protection than I can.”

“Stop this,” I tell Bucky and he only glares at me. “Stop this. We can find another way.”

“Уже сделано.”

It’s already done.

“Так ты говоришь, что ты бессилен,” I sneer back and smile when Bucky flinches ever so slightly. 

So you're saying that you're powerless.

The older man who had opened the door for us comes in with a large white envelope and hands it to Bucky. The Barnes Pakhan takes it with a roll of his eyes and takes out a packet of papers. Melina has finally stopped reading and Yelena is still pretending to sleep as my fate is being sealed. A pen scratches on paper and then the packet is dangling in front of my face with Bucky’s name messily scrolled next to a blank spot where I can only assume mine is meant to go. 

“I’m not signing that,” I tell Bucky and he only stares blankly at me. 

“Y/N,” Melina tries but I cut her off with a triate about how this is illegal and stupid and seflish and no one can make me do this. During my efforts to get someone to change their mind and call this all off, Bucky signs my name for me before tossing the packet to Alexei. 

“Did you just forge my signature?”

“No,” he deadpans and watches my parents sign the witness section of the marriage license. 

“Yes you did! I saw you!”

“But did you?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that? I literally just watched you sign my name on a legal document. That makes it void,” I snap at him and I swear I see the anger start to roll in. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, “And who here is going to back you up? Alexei? Melina? Yelena?”

When I don’t answer, he mutters something in Russian under his breath and tells my father that we will be leaving immediately. A man I hadn’t seen before comes up behind me and pulls me off of the couch by my arm causing me to swing at him. My fist lands with a satisfying crack on his cheek and he tumbles backwards, cradling his face as blood leaks from between his fingers. He curses under his breath and I spin around at the familiar voice. 

It was the voice of one of the man who kidnapped me that night. 

That’s when it hits me; Bucky and this man had been the ones to kidnap Yelena and me. 

“YOU,” I hiss and grab him by the face with one hand while the other pulls the small gun tucked into his waist. Pressing it against his temple, we stare at each other and after a few agonizing moments pass, the man looks down with defeat. 

“You were there,” I whisper to him, “Why?”

He looks over my shoulder at Bucky and that’s when I remember Bucky was there too. Still gripping the first man, I turn the gun to his boss and the entire room takes in a sharp breath. 

“Why?” I ask him knowing that’ll I never get an answer. His expression is a frozen image of boredom and based on what little information I have gotten in the last few minutes, it’s not likely that he’ll decide that this question deserves a response. 

“Let him go and give him his gun back,” is all Bucky says before snatching up the packet and stalking towards the door. My hand slips and the man quickly grabs his gun before dragging me along with him. 

Alexei moves to stand and Melina stops him by holding out her hand. She mutters something to him in Russian and he rolls his shoulders in response, no doubt having been told to act like a Pakhan and not a loving father. Yelena has lifted her head and is staring daggers at me but she still doesn’t say anything to me. The little girl in me begs to call out for my older sister and craves the comfort that her hug once brought me but all hope of that relationship is dashed with the murderous look she’s giving me. 

Once again my family has left me for dead without a good reason. 

Sam, as I heard Bucky call him, dabs a black handkerchief on his cheek as he inspects the small cut in the car’s tiny visor mirror. He keeps muttering under his breath and occasionally Bucky throws in a sarcastic comment to which Sam threatens to hurt in him some way. 

“Please tell me why you couldn’t have just walked up to her and played nice,” Sam says after he’s finished fussing over the truly minimal cut on his cheekbone.

Bucky looks at me in the rearview mirror, “Does she look like someone who plays nice?”

“I’m literally right here.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, “Oh I’m well aware that you’re right there. I can feel you plotting my demise.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be thinking of the most creative way to kill you if you didn’t kidnap.”

“I didn’t kidnap you. That was Bucky.”

The man in question gives his partner the most offended look possible, “Wow. Remind me to never trust you with anything ever again.”

“Don’t act you wouldn’t give me up just as quickly,” Sam mumbles as he settles into his seat. 

“I wouldn’t and that’s why I’m Pakhan.”

“Oh you want to play that way? Okay, okay,” he perks up and leans over towards Bucky. “We had a plan walking into that fake ass funeral and it didn’t involve either of us getting punched or you getting married. Want to explain how your plan to get in and get out epically failed, Pakhan?”

Bucky’s jaw clentches and his hands grip the steering wheel tighter, “Look, let me walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“If it involves telling me how you managed to royally fuck this entire thing then yes but otherwise, no.”

“I didn't...do anything. That’s on Alexei. I almost had him…”

Sam lets out a loud and dramatic sigh, “You did not almost have him. He was never going to agree to your terms and you know it.”

“Someone want to fill me in?” I pipe up and both men say no loudly at the same time. I raise my eyebrows in surprise and again they both sigh before Bucky starts talking. 

“Alexei is an idiot.” 

“You’re not wrong,” I mumble and I swear I see him smirk. 

“He got lazy with cleaning up the mess Dreykov made and now he’s too weak and stupid to handle the consequences. He’s more concerned about his reputation than he is actually running his bratva and he somehow managed to rope me into his bullshit.”

“What does that say about you?”

“You’re the daughter who escaped, how do you think it looks that you’re also part of this?”

I don’t answer. I’m well aware of how stupid and naive this whole situation makes me look. I did escape whether or not thanks to Bucky kidnapping me all of those years ago, but I escaped and yet I still wound up being entangled in my father’s mess. I was free but now I’m both legally and morally bound to Bucky. 

The rest of the car ride is silent. Only when we pull up in front of Carol’s apartment building do I say something. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

[sunnysideaeggs]

some criticisms i have of episode 2. read the tags first please.

disclaimer: i am a targtowers’ stan first and foremost. that means: aegon, helaena, aemond and daeron. they’re my favorite characters. that’s where my ‘loyalty’ stands. everyone else (including alicent) comes after.

helaena’s grief should’ve been a bigger point in the episode. this is HER episode and aegon’s (i’m not complaining about him but her screentime was so low). everyone else, rhaenyra, alicent, yada yada is secondary.

alicent can light up candles for her enemy’s son but can’t even attend the funeral of her grandson 🙄 she doesn’t cry, curse the blacks, want to bathe in the blood of jaehaerys’ killers, or can even bring herself to say his name.

i love aegon’s performance. i love all of his grief manifested in rage and anger. he cries but he will kick everyone later. tom go get your emmy.

girl your daughter just lost a son and you want to talk about you fucking your bodyguard. i’m tired of her. helaena is with all right of ignoring her.

once upon a time there was a boy that loved horses 😭 jaehaerys my dear

a larys/aegon scene is all i could wish for. the cold mastery of secrets and torture combined with the unstoppable wrath of a wounded man. i need more of them.

i like how the funeral seems, by all accounts, normal but by helaena’s viewpoint everything is too much. the people claim for her showing support but it’s all noise. the carriage showing her little boy so that people know who to blame but it only reminds her more of what happened. he even looks like he’s sleeping.

tbh this scene shows how rhaenyra doesn’t fucking care about helaena and her children. the first thought she had when she heard of the news wasn’t to have compassion or empathy, but to do damage control and worry about her reputation.

lmao i don’t have a clue what daemon’s intentions and rationality is. he only cares about looking mighty and dangerous to other people even when he does dumb shit, then justifies it. he lives only for other people’s opinions but then everyone hates his ass lol. dilffailure.

also he’s the embodiment of living for a dick measuring contest he ends up losing. all of daemon’s behavior can be attributed to erectile dysfunction.

how the writers found time for an oc prostitute having a mommy kink scene with aemond but didn’t have more time for a longer scene with helaena and literally anyone is beyond me.

aemond talking about his regret for luke but not about the death of his nephew 💀 luke died like three years ago condal pls get over it. aemond would care more about jaehaerys than poor little luke.

some much needed baela character development. i love characters that are like the female version of their dad but then also fucking hate their dad lol

i liked the tidbits of the dragonseeds during the episode. i’d like some nettles too :) but i guess the only female and canonically black character is a little too much for this show amirite :)

of course daemon would never be able to bend to anyone he considers inferior, much less rhaenyra, who under any other circumstance would be seen as ‘lesser than him’. it reminds him of his failures. i’m glad we’re on the same page.

aegon never had a chance right? aegon was literally raised by hightowers in love with targaryens. he never would’ve been able to surpass viserys and rhaenyra in otto and alicent’s eyes. nothing he did could’ve changed that.

otto’s little laugh cost him a job lol. i’m sad we didn’t get his cats.

the focus on rhaenyra in the arryk/erryk fight is too much for me. once again, leave secondary characters have their moments instead of shoving r or a down my throat please. this is their especial moment, their last moment. rhaenyra being all 😨🧍🏼‍♀️ between their shots does nothing for the scene.

otto’s realization of his life’s work being flushed down the drain is so touching and painful in a way to me. he’s like tywin if he lived long enough to see cersei and tommen fuck everything up.

‘i have sinned’ ‘i do not wish to hear of it’ that’s peak cersei and tywin from that one scene when she confessed the incest.

daeron exists? yay. and once again i’m fucking tired of alicent not reacting to mention of daeron, not comforting helaena, bashing aemond, ignoring aegon. where’s the love for her children?

the scene of otto putting resting his face on his hands? chills. it should’ve lingered there. showcase otto’s regret? grief? idk. pity it just lasted half a second because we needed to see alicent once more.

from now on, alicent is cancelled for me. i don’t care anymore about her. any parent that leaves their child in distress to go fuck can eat shit. i gave that treatment to daemon in laena’s funeral and i’m giving it to her.

we have more sex scenes of alicent than we have of daemon and aegon combined. yet she’s the pious queen and they’re the lechers. condal please write accordingly.

how do i watch a show when i don’t care for the two main characters, because they’re cardboard cuts of women who don’t do anything? i don’t know.

[tsukimefuku]

The morning after is still last night

After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, mentions of sex, Higuruma x f!reader, this is fluff.

WC: 800

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is the sequence to "The man who played with fire", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Higuruma was awakened by the faint stream of light that bled through the curtains and projected onto his face delicately. He was coming to his senses slowly, and realized he was still naked under the bedsheets. Looking by his side, he saw you laying down with your back facing him. He smiled discreetly, realizing you had spent the night — Higuruma was unsure if you’d do so, given you were prone to avoidance, overall.

Examining your back solely with his eyes, he noticed a prominent scar right in the middle, over your spine. It was oval-shaped, and it extended in a straight line to the right side of your back, stopping abruptly. It seemed to have been done by a blade of some sort. Before he realized, his fingers were caressing over it, pulling you gently awake.

“Hey,” you cooed, rolling on your side to face him, “good morning.”

“Good morning.” Higuruma answered, gazing at you before putting his hand over your cheek. “It seems you slept here.”

You smiled at him, putting your hand over his. “I didn’t feel like going back home in the middle of the night.” You also wanted to spend some more time with Higuruma, but spared that detail. You were starting to feel somewhat guilty, like you had used him the night prior. No need to dig this deeper, you thought.

“I’m glad you stayed. I wish I had something to offer for breakfast, but I’m not the great domestic type of person. There isn’t anything in my fridge other than yesterday’s beer.” He answered, blatantly not embarrassed at all.

You chuckled lightly. “There might be an old lemon half. You never know, Higuruma.”

His expression became slightly saddened. “I know the sun is already out, but last night isn’t over until we’re out of bed.”

You dragged your body towards his, stopping a few inches apart, and looked him in the eyes. His gaze was lovely, and you were both nearly whispering, as if to keep the fragile little bubble of this moment intact. “Okay, Hiromi.”

Higuruma instantly smiled, and closed the gap between the two of you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “That’s more like it.”

You put your thumb on his chin and guided his face to look at you, sighing deeply. “I can’t stay. And I don’t think we should do this again.” You felt like you’d be only using him, even if you had a thing for Higuruma. You just failed to realize just how deep that “thing” was becoming.

He sighed back, because he realized you were doing that again. Fleeing to avoid touching on sensitive subjects. “I know you can’t stay, but I’d like to discuss that second part before you left.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“I want to know why we shouldn’t have sex again.” He was a pretty straightforward and honest kind of guy, even if it meant saying the uncomfortable unsaid most of the time.

“Well, I feel like I’d be using you for self satisfaction, and I think you’re a friend I wouldn’t want to drive away by treating you like man candy.” You replied, earnestly.

“Then don’t.” He answered. “Treat me like man candy, I mean. Except if I ask for it.”

You chuckled and covered your face at his antics. “Hiromi, oh my God.”

“I mean it! We’re adults, and the lifespan of a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t that long from what I could tell, anyway. It doesn’t mean this will taint our friendship, as you pointed out, and we can always talk about it if things get strange in a bad way.” He negotiated with you. This was so much different from being lectured that you couldn’t help but feel glad to be sharing this moment with Higuruma.

You stayed quiet, studying his features as he awaited for a response, and your gaze wound up resting on his lips for a while, something he noticed. He approached you carefully, brushing his lips to yours, and it instantly made your heart race. You could hear each pump in the back of your ears, as you pressed your lips against his quickly, pulling apart before you both could get entangled together again for round two, after you explicitly told him you shouldn’t.

“Can I think about it?” You asked.

“Of course. But please, do think about it, and don’t just take time to stall on an answer.” Higuruma replied, ash colored eyes piercing through you.

“Oh, stalling to not give you an answer about something uncomfortable or compromising? That definitely doesn’t sound like me.” You answered, mockingly. You were aware of your intimacy issues.

He smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. “ I’m a lawyer, I’m quite familiar with buying time to avoid consequences.”

“Consequences, huh?” You asked, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. “Come on, Hiromi. Time to start the day.”

Defeated, he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, as your feet touched the cold morning floor.

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Twenty-One — Jackson Rippner + choking, anal sex

Pairing -> dom!jackson rippner x girlfriend!reader

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: anal sex, a bit of pain bc first time, reader’s on the more innocent side, choking, degradation, sort of sweet Jackson ig, use of whore

Disclaimer: Red Eye characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jackson let out a little sigh as he pushed himself into you, slowly at first, as this was your first time getting fucked in the ass. While all he wanted to do was to let loose and rail you, he knew it would hurt, so he opted for the more patient option. After all, he didn’t want to cause his sweet girlfriend any pain, not when she was so selfless for offering this.

Believe it or not, this wasn’t Jackson’s idea. It was yours. At some point in your relationship you realized that he enjoyed things rough and crude, and while you yourself liked to have vanilla sex, you thought you ought to give Jackson a treat. He’d always been so kind and generous to you. So what was a little pain compared to that?

You hissed as his cock made its way fully inside of you. This felt like the first time you had sex, when Jackson took your virginity. You felt like something inside you was stretching to the limit, like you were being pulled apart to the brim.

“You good?” Jackson asked, brushing your hair out of your face. He wished he could see you, but he couldn’t deny his view—your back, arched and smooth, your head down, breasts hanging, and that ass of yours—that beautiful ass.

“Mhm,” you shuddered. “Be slow, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” For now.

He slowly started moving in and out of you, rocking his body back and forth. He was very conscious of the sounds you were making. For now, it seemed to be mostly pain, but he could feel you adjust to his size, and by the time he acquired a steady, measured pace, you gave him the okay.

His balls slapped against your skin as he brutally thrusted in and out. He held your shoulders to keep you from falling over, letting out guttural grunts and groans as though he were an animal.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Who knew you’d let me do this?” He wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed it. “Look at you,” he cooed. “You look like a whore.”

You gasped at his statement, feeling your body grow even wetter. If you had known you would be this turned on by degradation, you would have asked him to do it sooner.

“Yours,” you tried to say, your voice coming out weak. You tried to clarify what you meant but the way he was ramming into you, the way he was choking you, prevented any further addition.

“What was that?” he mocked. “You want to say something.”

You nodded. He gave your throat a little squeeze.

“Whores — augh — whores don’t speak,” he spat out. “Besides, I know what you’re trying to say.”

He stopped thrusting. He pulled his cock out all the way, waited for a few moments, and then shoved it back into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“You’re trying to say that you're mine. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He fucked you like this for a little while longer. You assumed that this was purely for his own pleasure, because you knew you weren’t going to cum from this alone, but then he started rubbing your clit, and eventually, you two orgasmed.

Jackson flipped you on your back and pulled you up on the bed so that your head was on a pillow. His chest was heaving, little strands of hair sticking out. He brushed his nose against yours affectionately, and then said something he rarely said, “I love you. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@meetmeatyourworst

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@mrkdvidal1989

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: The 10th Annual Hunger Games begin, and things quickly dissolve into chaos. Bellova grows increasingly furious about Coriolanus’s dedication towards Lucy Gray Baird. When she realizes he has cheated just to keep her alive, she decides to ruin him once and for all.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, violence, cursing, overall dark stuff (it’s the Hunger Games franchise so that’s sorta a given)

A/n: I am using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter. I sort of streamlined the events to make the chapter less boring. Also, I highly recommend listening to “…Ready For It?” and “Look What You Made Me Do” while reading this chapter.

Other than Sejanus throwing a chair at the screen and screaming that everyone in the room was a monster, Lamina killing Marcus in an act of of mercy, and Lucky’s stupid commentary, nothing much had happened yet. 

Bellova was disappointed that her tribute was dead. Not because she cared about her, but because it meant she was missing out on the mentor experience. The thrill of having a say in someone else’s survival seemed quite exciting. 

If she wasn’t so pissed at Coriolanus for his behavior towards Lucy Gray, she would’ve reconsidered his proposal to work together. 

When the day was coming to an end, the majority of Academy students started to leave for their homes. Only a handful remained, consisting mostly of the mentors.

Bellova stifled a yawn, leaning back in her chair. Things has gotten dull, with the tributes doing nothing but finding places to hide from each other. She hoped that Dr. Gaul had something exciting in store for them soon, or people would start switching to Billi Bumble’s horrible comedy channel.

She picked up her Academy satchel and stood up from her seat. She noticed that Coriolanus was still present and slumped over on his desk, his head resting on his hand. He looked so peaceful asleep, his long golden lashes fluttering slightly. The light from the ceiling made his light blonde curls glow ethereally.

He looked like an angel. 

Bellova suddenly felt a strong urge to wake him up. She had avoided him for the entire day out of spite, but was starting to miss interacting to him. It was routine, bantering and bickering every day. Not talking felt…weird. And lonely.

She sighed. On rare occasions, she wished she could go back in time and change the way they formed their relationship. Instead of it being based on competition and rivalry, it would be full of support and affection. 

Then, an unpleasant thought hit her. 

He had only stayed so late to ensure nothing happened to Lucy Gray while he was away.

Now utterly furious, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started towards the door. ‘He’s such a pathetic sap,’ she thought. ‘He’s acting like a fool, I really should stop associating myself with him.’ 

But she found herself glancing over her shoulder to look at him one last time. And she knew, deep down, that she’s always come back, no matter how much he pissed her off.

She’d never be able to stay away from him. 

Not for long, anyway.

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

Bellova passed out as soon as she climbed into bed, and didn’t wake until nine hours later. She hadn’t slept well in nearly a week, as she was still recovering from her injuries. This was the first time she was able to achieve an uninterrupted night of sleep since before the bombing.

When one of her maids woke her up, it was already 8:00. Usually Academy classes started promptly at 8:00, but because of the Games, the schedule had been loosened a bit. And Bellova, who didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, was in no rush to arrive on time.

After eating a breakfast of fruit and assorted pastries, she slowly pulled on her uniform. She has always hated the Academy uniforms, but with the right accessories and makeup, she had learned to make it presentable by her standards.

Bellova checked her makeup one last time in the mirror and then headed downstairs to meet her driver at the front of her estate. He opened the passenger’s side door for her as she slid into the seat. 

“How are you this morning, Miss Bellova?” he asked, starting the engine and taking off towards the main road.

“Fine,” she said, leaning against the window. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that once the Games are over, you can rest up properly.”

She nodded. “That would be nice. As much as I like the Games, they’ve caused quite a lot of stress this year.” 

He laughed quietly. “Most certainly. Everyone was so worried about you when you were hospitalized, your father most of all. I haven’t ever seen him so upset in my twenty years of working for him.” 

Bellova sighed. She and her father, Julio Augustus Reginelle, had a nice relationship. But he was rarely home, for he worked almost ten hours a day and often didn’t come home until Bellova was asleep. She cherished the rare moments she had with him. He had taught her to be proud of her wit and her combative nature, even if it sometimes got her into trouble. 

“You are much more like your father than you realize, Miss Bellova,” her driver said. 

“How so?” she asked.

“You are both kind until someone disrespects you. You are incredibly intelligent just like him, and pursue your goals relentlessly.” He paused for a moment. “And, you seem to have the same disdain for certain other Capitol families.”

Bellova raised an eyebrow. “Which ones?”

“Well, he’s not fond of the Cardews, as you know. He thinks they hold too much power for how little work they actually do.”

Bellova laughed. “That’s true.”

“He has never gotten along with the Creed family. He finds them irritating and foolish.”

She smirked. “I’m not surprised. Festus can be insufferable. Who else?”

Her driver sighed. “He despised Crassus Snow.”

Bellova felt her stomach twist. “Really?”

He nodded. “I don’t know exactly why he hated him so passionately, but I’ve heard they were rivals during their Academy days.”

‘I suppose I really do take after him then,’ Bellova thought, remembering her and Coriolanus’s worst arguments. ‘Crassus’s son gets under my skin nearly every day.’

Her driver pulled onto Scholars Road and stopped in front of the Academy’s main building. He stepped out of the car to open the door for her, and she gave him a nod of thanks. 

“I’ll see you later, Miss Bellova,” he said, bowing slightly and getting back into the car to drive off. 

As Bellova walked to the auditorium where the mentors were undoubtedly already at work, she pondered what her driver had said about Crassus Snow and her father. She was eager to know more about their history, but didn’t want to pry too far. Her father had a temper just like her, and she didn’t want to be on the wrong end of it.

When Bellova reached the room and walked through the doors, she immediately noticed three things: one, that Coriolanus looked exhausted and distressed, two, that he has brought his cousin Tigris to watch the Games, and three, that Sejanus was missing. 

She grabbed a spare chair and sat next to Coriolanus. He didn’t greet her or even glance look at her.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked, looking at the large television screen in front of them. 

He scowled. “I’m not in the mood for your snide remarks, Bellova.”

“Clearly something happened. Either tell me or I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Coriolanus gave her a sharp glare, but sighed in defeat. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Satisfied, Bellova turned her attention back to the Games. According to Lucky Flickerman, one tribute, Bobbin, had died overnight. However, there was no footage shown of him perishing. 

Bellova found that awfully suspicious. There was such a lack of action in the arena that the gamemakers would have undoubtedly shown the death of a tribute. 

When Bobbin’s death was announced, she noticed Coriolanus tense ever-so slightly. The average person wouldn’t have noticed, but she had learned to read his body language as well as the back of her hand. Clearly, something about his death made him nervous.

She decided to cast it aside for the moment. She’d pry the information out of him later. 

“They aren’t showing us what happened to that little boy,” Lysistrata Vickers said. “He clearly was killed right there. There’s cameras everywhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They said they were old cameras, Lyssie,” Festus responded. “Probably just another one of Coral’s.”

“Festus, sit down,” Lucky Flickerman ordered. “Same seats.”

Festus scowled but did as he was told. He and Lucky clearly had some animosity, and it was quite amusing to witness their petty interactions. 

Suddenly, after a few moments, Lucy Gray appears on screen, looking horrified. Bellova had to bite her lip to refrain from grinning. It seemed that the songbird’s luck was finally running out. 

Jessup emerged a second later. He was clearly not well, he looked much worse than he did before the Games.

“What’d you do to me?” Jessup shrieked, backed Lucy Gray against a pile of rubble.

“Nothing!” she responded, her eyes wide with fear. 

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Bellova heard Coriolanus asked frantically.

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata replied, bewildered. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

“Jessup going after Lucy Gray,” Lucky commented. 

“Stop running!” Jessup demanded. “What did you…” He groaned mid-sentence. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Lucy Gray insisted.

“Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself.” 

“Wait, look. The foam,” Coriolanus said. 

“I think it’s rabies,” Lysistrata said, clearly disturbed. “That bite. From that train.” 

Coriolanus stared at the screen, looking helplessly at his tribute who was nearing her inevitable doom. Then, he turned back to Jessup’s mentor.

“Send him water.”

“Wait, what?” Lysistrata asked.

“You remember the posters in the war? Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone.”

“That’ll scare him,” she protested.

“Yes. Away from her,” he insisted.

Bellova stood up. “Coriolanus-“

“Bellova, be quiet,” he snapped, not even bothering to look at her. “Jessup is done. Lyssie, you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

Lysistrata clearly didn’t want to, but with a few clicks on her computer, water was being sent to Jessup by a drone. 

“Thank you,” Coriolanus whispered.

Within minutes, Jessup was dead, and four lethal tributes were cornering Lucy Gray. 

“Oh, look at this,” Lucky Flickerman said. “The Pack doing what they do best. Packing it in. Lucy Gray is swarmed, cornered. Mizzen, propellering his net.”

It looked again as if she was done for, but then-

“Mr. Snow going for his communipad,” Lucky continued. Bellova saw him send nine - no, ten drones towards Lucy Gray. 

Bellova knew exactly what he was doing. He was using the drones to give her a chance to escape. 

The drones came flying into the arena, causing The Pack to scatter. A few of them got hit, causing them cry out in pain and tumble to the stone-covered floor. 

“These drones are not very good,” Lucky commented, as if it weren’t obvious. Some of the students who had caught onto Coriolanus’s plan started to jeer at him.

“Hey!” Vipsania Sickle said indignantly. “You can’t attack the tributes.”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus said casually, as if he was completely innocent.

After gathering her bearings, Lucy Gray scrambled into a tunnel with Coral on her heels. She managed to pull the vent closed just in time, the metal door nearly crushing Coral’s fingers.

Bellova positioned herself a few inches away from Coriolanus. She was seething, but it didn’t show on her face. She simply looked indifferent, despite all of the violence that had just occurred in the Games. 

“Snow, do you that time before the Dark Days when you pulled on my pigtails, so I slammed your face against my school desk?”

“Yes,” Coriolanus said, furrowing his eyebrows. “What about it?”

Bellova smiled crookedly, the violent glint in her eyes making Coriolanus visibly uncomfortable. “I’m about to fucking do it again, and this time, you’ll have more than a bleeding nose.” 

He straightened his posture, smoothing out his Academy blazer. 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

Bellova’s hands twitched. She knew that decking him in front of the majority of the student board would get her in severe trouble, but it was very tempting.

Instead of punching him, she started to storm out of the auditorium. 

“There goes Miss Reginelle. Clearly, the violence on screen has finally gotten to her-“

“Shut the fuck up, Flickerman, before I snap your microphone in half!” Bellova hissed. She threw up open the doors, and made sure to slam them behind her. 

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

Bellova sat in the hallway outside of the auditorium, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her anger was threatening to spill over, and her father would be very disappointed in her if she murdered someone on Academy grounds.

She had vowed to make Coriolanus pay if he pulled any more strings for his little songbird. And he had by sending that fleet of drones after her attackers. But clearly, nobody batted an eye at that. He had not been punished, or even reprimanded.

The thought of Coriolanus thinking longingly about Lucy Gray was almost enough to drive her mad. 

Before she could do anything drastic, she heard the speakers inside the auditorium amplifying Dr. Gaul’s voice. Curious, she stood up and pressed her ear to the doors.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.”

Bellova felt her heart drop. Felix wasn’t all that bad, when he wasn’t bragging about his life at least. She had even gone to the end-of-year Academy gala with him a couple of years ago. They had a wonderful time, and she was gifted a priceless gold necklace by him at the end of the night. She had worn it for a week straight afterwards, which delighted the young son of the president.

“Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

She gasped. She knew Dr. Gaul well enough to know she was completely serious. If she wanted someone gone, she’d stop at nothing until they dropped dead. 

Mere moments later, Coriolanus burst through the doors, nearly slamming right into Bellova. 

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, scowling at him.

He sneered down at her, beginning to walk away. She followed him, despite knowing he really didn’t want her to. “As if I’d tell you.”

Bellova sighed. “I told you earlier, Coriolanus, if you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out on my own-“

“Fine!” he huffed. “I’d do anything to shut you up at this point. You’re insufferable.”

“The feeling is mutual, Snow. Now spill it, what’s going on?”

Coriolanus, against his better judgement, told her everything. Well, almost everything. He told her about how he retrieved Sejanus from the arena, but omitted the part about killing Bobbin. He explained that he needed to see Dr. Gaul immediately, for the stitches in his back from the previous evening were coming loose. 

Bellova frowned. She briefly felt bad that he was in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to actually care. She was still angry at him. 

She also noticed he said was being very vague with his details. He was definitely hiding something.

“What’s that face for?” Coriolanus asked as they approached the Citadel, which housed Gaul’s laboratory. 

“What face?”

“That scowl. You’re clearly not pleased about something, so what is it?”

She smirked. “As if I’d tell you,” she said, mimicking his words from earlier. 

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, which satisfied Bellova immensely. She loved seeing his patience waver, it was strangely addicting.

“Will you ever learn to keep your bratty mouth shut?” he asked, his voice raising a touch.

“Bratty?” Bellova scoffed. “I’d prefer it if you called me a bitch.”

Dr. Gaul’s lab was just a few corridors away at this point. Bellova knew that causing a scene here wouldn’t be wise, but she honestly did not care. She could easily talk her way out if it.

Coriolanus glowered at her, his blue eyes icier than ever. “Go back to the auditorium, Bellova. I know you love watching the Games, and you’re probably missing all of the action.”

She laughed. “So all of a sudden, you want me to be happy. Seriously, Snow, if you want to get rid of me, just say so.”

He smirked at her condescendingly. “Then I will. Get out of here, you have no place in Gaul’s lab anyway. It’s too much for your pathetically shallow brain to comprehend.” 

Bellova stared at him for a moment. It has been awhile since he’d said something quite that harsh. It was normal for him to question her intellect, but calling her dumb? That was low, even for him.

Coriolanus was obviously anticipating a slap to the face. He was not prepared, however, for Bellova to swipe her claw-like nails across his face like a wild animal.

Stunned, he watched Bellova walk away as the new gashes on his face began to sting. As she reached the end of the hall, she screamed “You’re such an asshole!” before disappearing from Coriolanus’s sight. 

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

Bellova sat in the stands instead of with the mentors, watching as Dr. Gaul’s “rainbow of destruction” engulf the remaining tributes in the arena.

She had no idea that when Dr. Gaul said “rainbow”, she was referring to hundreds of colorful, deadly snakes. 

She watched, entranced, as the beautiful mutations smothered the tributes, picking them off one-by-one. She had never admired the “mad” scientist more. Her work was truly beautiful. 

Wovey, Reaper, Mizzen, and Coral were soon dead, lying lifelessly beneath the swarm of snakes. 

“Now, all colors lead to Gray,” Lucky Flickerman said. 

Coriolanus stood watching the screen, amazed at his own success. “She’s… She’s won. It’s over, she’s won.” He looked over to Dr. Gaul, who was standing to the side. “She’s won, let her out.”

The doctor smiled. “Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow.”

Bellova bit back a laugh when Lucy Gray began to sing. At least she’d be able to get in once last performance before her vocal chords went slack.

“Dr. Gaul, she won!” Coriolanus repeated, desperation seeping into his voice. “It’s over, let her out.” 

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” someone asked.

“Must be the singing,” Coriolanus replied. “It’s calming them.”

He really was a terrible liar.

“She can’t sing forever,” Festus said. 

Bellova noticed some of the students around her begin to cry as they watched Lucy Gray sing shakily. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus begged. “Get her out. Get her out!”

One by one, the Academy students began to chant “Get her out! Get her out!”, almost overpowering the sound of Lucy Gray’s singing. 

‘No,’ Bellova thought desperately. ‘Don’t. Just let her die.’

Then, Coriolanus said, “Who will watch the Games if there’s no victor?”

The chanting came to a halt.

Dr. Gaul looked around, seeing that she was vastly outnumbered. “Get her out,” she murmured just loud enough to be heard. 

“She’s won! Lucy Gray!” Lucky Flickerman cried over the roar of the student body. “Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games!”

Bellova’s face burned with fury, her patience finally snapping after days of wearing thin. 

She was no longer willing to overlook Coriolanus’s behavior. She had let him get away with too much. 

It was time that he faced some real consequences.

As she exited the hall quietly, she smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. She knew exactly how she would make him pay.  

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This was another decently long chapter, and I believe it has been the most intense one yet. Stay tuned for Chapter Six!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[cursingtoji]

🎙️ just saw your post asking about blog recs…step up to the stage bc i need some!!!!

BLOGS RECOMMENDATION <3

— mostly jjk, but also chainsaw man and aot

*taping the mic* okay here are my nominees with some fics recomendations as well

disclaimers!

lemme start saying so plot is everything to me, pwp can be hot but i'll hardly remember it afterwards, that being said here's some writers that can do both great plots and hot scenes.

also while digging i realize i wasn’t following some of those and if you noticed im sorry im dumb but i truly love your writing.

i tried to tag every active blog i could remember but it’s possible i forgot a few since i’ve been reading more jjk recently. if i forgot you im so sorry please don’t take offense.

many blogs i loved were deactivated, rest in piece great works they had.

everything i read i reblog under the tag #recs

@thekillingmoonmoon ofc moon is the first one i think when the topic "best writers" come up, i freaking love her and everything she does its not even fair to pick one thing so im picking 3, this super passionate toji work that i re-read at an alarming frequency (which btw i consider my own personal gift). yakuza choso and yuki aka the hottest duo ever. the cherry on top is her kishibe series (just realized i gotta catch up on)

@rinhaler - luxe is def on my top 3, she comes up with very organic scenes. even if it's a simple plot she can develop it so originally. I recently read her underground fighter!sukuna and i'm still thinking about it.

@laudthingcat has the best headcanons in the jjk fandom hands down, it’s the perfect dose of hot funny and cute, pick anything from her masterlist it’s guaranteed you’ll have a good time reading it. when you moan their name in your sleep in particular gives me butterflies

@meownotgood is obviously the best aki writer out there, you can see the love for aki in their words and how they write him so well and so into character. arrival in tokyo is truly a masterpiece, they also have a +100k words series i've been wanting to read for a while but i want to rewatch chainsaw man first hehe, i'm 100% sure is fire tho.

@kentoangel roma writes choso like she's in love with him and you can tell. shes always on my for you and even her snippets are *chefs kiss* special kudos to stepbrother!choso

@kentopedia i just realized i'm assigning a writer per character and nanami is definitely rylie's. the domestic lovely way she writes him makes me forget canon.

@tojisun another blog that is very often on my for you page. cannot talk about toji fics without bringing up sun, everything she writes about him has me furiously nodding. not to mention simon and konig, just talking about them makes me wanna run to her blog and binge read everything

@chocochipsushi 's bodyguard toji is unforgetable to me, i wish i lost my memory so i could read it all again for the first time. bodyguard toji is the definition of living rent free in my mind, whenever i have to deal with annoying coworkers i immediately think “bodyguard toji would not allow them to talk to me like that”

@suget one of the greatest geto writers for sure, they have so many geto works, i was going through their blog to find the one i read more recently and there was so many others i haven’t seen! another writer i could very easily spend a whole day binge reading. btw this cult leader one was recommended to me and i fell in love with it <3

@staryukis has the cutest gojo drabbles

@tonycries brooklin baby was recommended to me by moon and it had me by the neck! also they have many other works im hoping to read soon as well

@mommypieck isayama created reiner but they created subby reiner

@titan-fodder ‘s the tinniest notion The Best Reiner fic in all the existence of the universe (tw: stepcest kinda?)

@nanaslutt mma!toji made feel every emotion possible so intensely

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍.

synopsis. even when all is lost, withering or crumbling away into dust, the unwilling bond tugging them to one another, again and again, remains unyielding.

genre. angst

tw. violence, kinda manipulation but like- he’s right..

disclaimer. there were no suitable sefikura gifs so i made one myself. if you use it, don’t be an ass, credit.

sephiroth x cloud strife. ( could be seen as platonic too )

the blond’s shoulders shook with exhaustion, hands blistering beneath his worn out gloves as his breaths came out shallow — uneven. as though the very oxygen he breathed had been stripped from his lungs amidst the clashing of steel against steel.

meanwhile the man across from him, stood with an eerie, but predictable calm, bangs flowing in the frigid breeze as his fingers curled around the hilt of his blade, ready.

it was just like last time, and the time before that.. and the time before that. every fight was near identical; same beginning with an ending that was equally the same. the only thing different was the words exchanged.

cloud, however, had grown tired of repetition.

the buster sword, trembling in his grasp, finally sunk into the earth, or whatever remained of it, as the former SOLDIER held himself up with a shaky breath.

sephiroth, mildly confused, though it had not reached his features, lowered masamune to his side, curiosity flashing in his feline-like eyes. “giving up so soon.. cloud? that was the last thing i’d expected, certainly out of you.” came his quiet comment, a hum following. “are you reconsidering my offer, perhaps?”

his offer.. the blond remembered it clearly, it echoed continuously in his head, like a mantra, since it left his curled lips.

“cloud, lend me your strength..” the one winged angel had stated mere moments ago, outstretching his leather covered palm. “let us defy destiny.. together.”

on their previous encounters, the mercenary would have yelled before gathering himself for the end of the battle, once more to prove his nemesis wrong. but the fire in him, whatever continued to burn, at last, faded from dying embers to evaporating wisps of smoke. much like the ones that surrounded the horrifyingly beautiful swordsman standing inches away from him.

with all lost or on the verge of being lost, how was he expected to go on? to continue this life long war without end? a battle could be won and lost, but a war persisted and called for more battles without prevail.

such was this so-called destiny sephiroth wished for them to defy.

but the former infantryman was no fool. at least, he believed he wasn’t.

“i don’t.. need your comments, offers or pity, s-sephi.. roth..” cloud heaved out, shaking his head weakly, attempting to remove his weight from the broadsword he’d been leaning on. “let’s just f-finish this.. once and for all.”

except, even he knew it wouldn’t be once and for all. it never was.

the cherished and famed war hero of shinra always, always, no matter the circumstances, odds or how many times the buster sword was cleaved clean through him.. he never failed to return. like a cat with nine lives, he stayed true to those eyes of his.

cloud had lost nearly every person he held dear to his wounded heart — had almost all of them taken away from him while he simply stood by and watched. too late to have made even the slightest difference to prevent the cruel outcomes that befell his loved ones.

the only one that seemed to persist, despite it all.. was sephiroth, he realized.

whether as a taunt or a bitter reminder of his failures at ending him for good — maybe even both, the self proclaimed ruler of the planet came back time and time again to prove the mercenary wrong. regardless of how deep of a slash he’d put through him using his departed friend’s weapon.

sadly, it was the bitter reality cloud lived. who was to say his silver haired nemesis would not return a third time? perhaps even a fourth, fifth or sixth- maybe even a hundredth.

nonchalance seemed to flicker in those mako colored irises, lips curling into what could be perceived as a smirk, albeit feint. “i thought i would mention, as you seem more withdrawn than the previous battles we shared.” he stated lightly, drawing his hilt back into his signature stance. “i would not want to fight you if your heart was not wholly, and irrevocably in it, cloud.”

the spiky haired male narrowed his eyes, vision slightly blurred from his fatigue and confusion. “why.. should my condition matter to you? am i not allowed to be tired of whatever this is- of constantly having to reenact this fight??” he retaliated in a low hiss, wincing as he forced the weapon into a defensive hold.

“i never stated you were not allowed to feel burnt out from our repetitive battles.” the older spoke up softly, a contrasting gentleness to his cold blooded nature — the one that was seared into him. “in fact, i have given you a way out of this fate that we share, where our reunions end with our blades locked.” he added shortly after, chuckling quietly, albeit devoid of humor. “it is often always you, cloud, who turns to fighting, anyway, is it not?”

the boy in question felt his heart in his throat, pupils dilating just slightly before he gritted his teeth. he would not dare fall for the words he spoke again — would not allow himself to see sephiroth as anything short of a villain. it was just so like him to say, anyway, twisting his actions to make him feel remorse.

tightening his grasp on the broadsword he held, cloud took a staggered step towards the taller. “don’t you dare give me that shit, you have ruined everything for me!” he shouted back, a bubbling rage surfacing in him the more he eyed the man across from him. “you’re insane to think i would believe a word you say! i know better than to trust someone who wouldn’t think twice about destroying and redesigning me into his own fucked up image!”

how could he not do that? all the things sephiroth said and expressed — it had all amounted to harnessing the sorrow, agony, hatred.. and that burning rage born from the town — his home, that had been scorched to ash and rebuilt as though it had never happened.

all for the purpose of pushing cloud to the very edge of despair, to pull him in deeper into the cold, dark waters. far away from the surface- from any source of warmth or light that wasn’t the flames on that fateful evening.. and into his everything.

a solemn smile seemed to replace the faltering smirk sephiroth sported as he let out another hum. “i am many things, cloud, but a liar.. is not one of them.” he answered lowly, eyes darkening. “you were rejected from SOLDIER five years ago due to sensitivity to mako. you were weak, incompetent and would have likely died on the field, had you been enlisted as you were.”

the younger of the two seemed to blink as he gripped his claymore tighter, glowering at the male he once idolized. if only that boy knew what his hero would become. “s-stop talking.” it came out stuttered, quieter, than he wished for it to. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“oh but i do, cloud.” he continued, anyway, stalking towards him. “i know everything there is to know. the things you cannot remember, the things you choose not to remember.. even things you do not know about yourself.” the teal eyed male went on, returning his sword to his side. “your strength now is more than it was that day in nibelheim. five years soaking in mako, injected with my cells has made you my equal.” he muttered, watching as the sapphire eyed mercenary trembled not in fear.. but in a nurtured, channeled fury.

it pleased sephiroth greatly, like an artist gazing upon his greatest work, as he appeared behind the blond mercenary, faster than any lightning materia could strike.

while the last of the strife family was still processing his position, the long haired male leaned in closely, curling his lips in a mild amusement. “my will and every desire, as well as my aspirations.. they run through your veins and call out to me- yearn to be one with me. you cannot resist the pull of the reunion, that undeniable need to find the one that tugs your strings.” he whispered into his ear, silver locks spilling over his battered shoulder armor. “what would you be without me, if not a weak, dejected infantryman with crushed dreams in becoming a SOLDIER?”

cloud stood there, frozen in his place despite the mixture of feelings he felt and had planned to pour into every slash he would deliver this time on his adversary.

what would he have been, truly, if not for sephiroth? if not for the horrors he had been through to get to this point?

his head lowered in shame, breaths coming out uneven at the realization as the buster sword dropped from his grasp. “i-i’m not.. i refuse to be any of what you say..”

“oh, but you were, cloud. no matter how many ways you paint the story in your head, however narrative you use to retell it.. your origins are embedded in you, unchanging.. as are my own.” the swordsman clad in leather spoke, placing a hand on his bare, quivering shoulder. “fret not, cloud, for you have gained strength in your suffering, have you not?” he mused out, feeling the other tense beneath his touch.

he had grown and gotten more powerful, yes..

“but i lost everything.” he whispered in a voice so broken from it all, unlike the harsh one that he’d been using as he felt his eyes gloss over with tears; ones that dared not leak in his wake.

..though at what cost?

sephiroth seemed to hum at the crack in whatever stability remained in cloud’s tone, smoothing a hand over his arm, soothingly. “that is the price of strength, cloud. do you think i became the way i am by design?”

other than the propaganda that painted his old role model and the version he came to know now, the spiky haired merc.. knew near nothing of him.

the taller took his silence as a sign to proceed, placing the back of the other’s hand into his palm. “my childhood was spent in a laboratory. those who raised me, the researchers of shinra.. were not pleased with how i was born- what i was born with. they wished for more, to construct and remodel me into that which i am today.” he explained, feeling the blond go completely still.

a mere breath away from his ear, sephiroth parted his lips again to finish. “the famed war hero which you idolized in your youth.. was in reality, a perfectly crafted monster all along, dressed under the guise of an angelic-like grace.”

the one winged angel.

cloud knew shinra wasn’t anything short of sick, having experimented on him as well as many others.. but to this extent?

“unlike you, however, i did not wish for this strength or for anything that was injected, slipped, disciplined or instilled into me.” he finished calmly, no longer fazed by what shattered him, so long ago now. “i did not ask for this destiny, either.. to have to die at your hands repeatedly and be rejected each time by the lifestream. but alas, i have been chosen for this, and to guide you, cloud, as my other half, whenever you lose your way.” the silver haired male finished, raising his free hand to wipe his fresh tears. “so whenever you lose your reason and purpose, i will always be here to gift you a new one. weep not, cloud, for this dynamic is what binds us together.”

he was sure he’d heard something like that somewhere before, and not long ago.

“that which binds us together would be no more.” cloud recalled hearing him say, after the detonation of mako reactor one, amidst the fiery destruction, and his fragile state of mind. “and i would be loath to live in such a world.”

sephiroth had said that about the planet’s annihilation — a result of shinra’s carelessness and abuse of mako as an energy source.

his intentions were in regards to saving the world, but his methods — his vision.. it was flawed- fogged by his resentment for what everyone had done to him.

the self proclaimed first class SOLDIER wondered, would he, too, have reached that point — sephiroth’s point — had he not directed his drive and deplorable feelings into putting an end to him?

his head lowered in shame as he felt his breath catch in his throat. “if i knew strength would mean hurting — bringing death to everyone around me, then i would have never wanted it to begin with.” cloud willed himself to answer, flashes of his most cherished ones appearing in his mind. his mother, zack.. the late avalanche members..

he couldn’t keep doing this. his promise to tifa could barely be kept as it was. how could he be certain she would not be next? or even aerith, now?

sephiroth brought his chin to his shoulder, closing whatever proximity remained between their bodies as he lifted his chin up with his thumb. “it is not too late, cloud, to defy the destiny that has been written out against our will and knowing.” he encouraged in a gentle tone, resting his thumb so close to the corner of the merc’s bottom lip. “your beloved friends could be safe, the suffering would cease and we would stop our never ending fights. all you have to do, is lend your strength to me.. as the only one on this caving world who has endured similar suffering to your own and understands it best.”

ocean hues flashed like those of a deer in headlights, an involuntary shiver dancing down his spine.

to give into sephiroth..? the one thing he had been avoiding, suppressing himself- that part of him from doing.

and yet..

“what.. would i have to do?” cloud asked before he could stop himself from his curiosity, to which the former hero smiled.

“don’t worry, it’s a simple thing.” he assured, stepping around the other to be at his side as he slid his hand into his before gazing up at the sky. “you have gone against me time and time again, to which the cycle of us fighting has reiterated.” the one winged angel stated, trailing his slitted eyes down to the spiky haired hero beside him. “that leaves us with one method not yet attempted.”

partnership.

“what will it be,” sephiroth asked, squeezing his hand. “cloud?”

the former SOLDIER- no, infantryman, gazed down upon their intertwined hands, which he somehow did not reject as he let his words sink.

what would it be, indeed..

his lips pulled tightly together, and finally, he lifted his eyes to meet those of his greatest foe- who waited patiently, calmly, for his response.

one thing was for certain, cloud wouldn’t be able to stop himself from whatever left his lips in that moment.

cloud could only hope the right choice spilled passed his tainted appendages.

notes. the way i die off and come back to write the most fucked up shit ever.. anyways they have had me on a bad chokehold for DAYS. literally i am not ok. who let square make them this fucked up.. regardless, this is different from what i post- i don’t typically do ship writing any longer, so i hope it was decent!

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[katuschka]

A Rollercoaster Ride with Tom&Jerry

Josh Kiszka x male OC (1st person narrative) 8.014 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: intense and confusing emotions; swear words; both verbal and physical fights; oral sex; anal sex (surprise, surprise, it's about two guys); toys; choking&gagging&some spanking; BDSM; ...so you see, it's not for everyone. This is basically a story about finding and re-establishing mutual trust. It involves conflict. Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned. So if you have any doubts that you're gonna be able to handle it, proceed with caution. Big thanks goes to: 1. @edgingthedarkness for making an illustrative short video (you're gonna find it inside the story below) that should make the whole experience even juicier! 2. all my beta-readers and cheerleaders, especially @writingcold, @edgingthedarkness, @its-interesting-van-kleep and @thewritingbeforesunrise. Cheers, guys.

I've got some things to say 'Cause there's a lot that you don't know It's written on my face It's gonna be hard to swallow (P!nk)

“You’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?” 

I sighed. Yeah, no shit. There was actually so much I wanted to say to him ever since the show ended, I just couldn’t figure out how to do that without sounding like a jealous little girl. My mind was absolutely racing and when that happens, the connection between my brain and my mouth just gets cut off completely. It’s a serious condition, really. Commonly known as “sulking.” 

I often accompany him on tour, but I try to avoid live shows. I have my reasons. Hundreds of them. I agreed to be there for the last few concerts, which I now deeply regretted. 

It had been a really busy and eventful week; me, myself and I getting increasingly irritated – by everything, but mostly him – as the days went by, and tonight’s events felt like the last straw. Part of me wanted to be finally alone with him, and another part just wanted to be alone. So, as a result, I just tried to avoid him. I had kept to myself while watching him down his beer as the band enjoyed their aftershow high back in the green room. No one else seemed to pay attention to me, and for that I was glad. Now we were sitting in a car on our way back to the hotel room, and the confrontation that I’d tried to avoid seemed inevitable. 

As much as I pretended to be interested in the night scenery behind the window, it was impossible to ignore him any longer. Sadly, it was equally impossible to pretend that everything was ok and the idea that we could resolve it soon seemed pretty absurd. He was still in his stage outfit, bare chest in full display, absentmindedly scratching the skin right below his left nipple. Much to my dismay, he smelled divine, too. Warm and musky from the exertion, still with a faint hint of vanilla and cedar. AND he was obviously completely clueless. 

“You know Josh, you make it really hard sometimes...” 

Well, shit. I realized what I just did even before I finished the sentence. The instant smirk on his face told me that it was a really bad word choice and I regretted it immediately. I really wished that he would take it seriously this time. But he was still exhilarated and unnaturally restless, even to his standards. He literally couldn’t sit still, fidgeting in his seat, rapping his knuckles on a windowsill, giggling at nothing in particular…and I’d swear I even heard a moan when the car accidentally hit a curb. If I didn’t know him, I would say that he was high, but I knew he would never do that while performing. 

“Yeah, I often do, don’t I darling.” He turned to me and pouted playfully, his chin resting on his fist. “...but you’re never quiet when that happens, so why don’t you tell me what’s bugging you.” He was looking at me now, the lower lip between his teeth again, eyelids half closed. Cheeky bastard. 

What I really meant was – and he just proved my point again, by the way – that it was hard to keep the conversation serious when he was like that. And he was like that most of the fucking time. Everyone loved him for it, and that was the problem, because he just didn’t hesitate to love them all back. Not only was this his nature, but what is more, he was required to do that. A people pleaser, an entertainer…I was no longer pleased, nor entertained, though. 

I knew what I signed up for when we started seeing each other. Granted, I didn’t know who he was – or what he was – when we first met in that rally more than three years ago. He was just a beautiful boy with the eyes of a winking doll and a golden halo bouncing around his head. In a crowd of other nameless, faceless and anonymous people, he exuded blinding light. Am I too sentimental? If you were there, you’d surely understand. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. After staring at him for at least fifteen minutes, I dared to lift my camera up to take a picture just as the wind blew a few disheveled locks into his face. He immediately noticed. His brows furrowed and his eyes squinted at me, but they were warm and I could tell he was smiling behind his mask, even though apprehensively. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Why did you do that?” If I had thought that it couldn’t get any worse, I was sorely mistaken. The sultry voice that came from behind that black piece of cloth didn’t match his overall appearance. It made my dick twitch though, and I had to hear it again, so I decided to come clear about it, because he was already turning away again, not really interested in my answer. As if having his pictures taken was something that happened everyday. Yeah, as if. But…

Believe it or not, I just told him I thought he was beautiful. Right there on that street. I don’t normally do shit like that. To this day, I still don’t understand what got into me. It was blunt and impudent and no doubt a bit weird, and I expected him to tell me to fuck off. 

But instead, he blushed. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” 

I wasn’t sure if it was genuine or if he was just playing along. Or even mocking me. But I had to seize the opportunity by the hair. “I’m Tom.” What else to say, right?

“Josh.”

That’s it. That’s how Tom met Josh. We talked a lot that day. He was cute and funny and I just couldn’t get enough of that voice, which is never a good sign. You shouldn’t let yourself get addicted to people. It’s dangerous and he was very addictive. Later that day, when we left the crowd behind and he put the mask down to reveal his full, rosy lips, I should have run. But I didn’t. I let him use those lips to chain me to him just as they enveloped my dick.

Since then, there was not one single day when I wouldn’t think about that mouth. It only got worse when that sleepy pout became the first thing I saw almost every time I opened my eyes in the morning during that summer. Our relationship started as a strictly sexual one, not because we wanted it that way, but simply because arousal and excitement came first, and there was nothing else to do. We skipped dating and dived head first in the sheets. The world had slowed down, the future looked hazy, and we were just bored. OK, I admit, I was bored. His life wasn’t boring at all. Not even then. I got sucked into it pretty soon (pun absolutely intended). He made me fall for him before we even realized what was happening, and it was brutally intense. And it was also mutual. 

I soon learned what it really meant to be part of that world. Our secret summer of love ended and reality hit. I went completely offline, partly because I was not interested in being hunted down by hysterical chicks, but mostly because he didn’t want them to know. You know what I mean. I didn’t really care that much myself, but I also understood. 

If you’re into traveling, and if you ever followed @tomontheroad on Instagram and wondered why it just vanished one day, wonder no more. Yes, it was me. You probably didn’t even notice though, because in late 2020, it had already been dead for months anyway. 

That’s just how it was. To keep the life we shared safe, I became an invisible nobody, which made it almost impossible for me to do my job, but I somehow managed. Meanwhile, he was there in the spotlight, adored by thousands, making their pussies and dreams wet. I was never to be seen. I agreed to all that, gladly, even though it was gradually getting worse. They started touring again, and that was when I saw his full potential, wrapped in velvet. He was their Pied Piper, playing his flute just as he played his vocals. I still didn’t mind. It was all worth it. I thought it was, at least. As soon as we closed the doors behind us, a brand new universe opened before me. Behind the closed doors, I was a traveler again, a tireless explorer. Every inch and every curve of his body was a land full of miracles and pleasures. A wondrous landscape. Every valley, a new home for me. Every peak, a place that revealed brand new horizons. Who needed tropical white sands when his warm skin was the perfect place to lay your head, the sound of his heart more calming than the humming of sea waves. I simply loved him. 

I learned to live with the fact that I had a boyfriend that hundreds of people wanted to fuck, but it was me who actually did. They were mere voyeurs, standing outside the shopping window, ogling hungrily all the delicious desserts on display, which only I had the privilege to taste. I kept telling myself that I was the lucky one. 

And you know what? That’s complete and utter bullshit. I keep doing this to myself. Lying to myself. I hadn’t learned to live with it at all. Granted, we had these conversations before, and all of them ended with me telling him it was fine. Everything was fine. I spent nearly two fucking years trying to convince myself that I was completely ok with all of this and just this evening I realized how much it was really bothering me. 

Today he crossed the fucking line. The feeling that lurked somewhere in the back of my mind now reared its ugly head and I felt like I reached my limits. 

I said I was there for the show. I actually never really get to see it, because I myself can’t be seen. It had been months since I last watched their concert and this past week I just waited for him in the green room. But tonight he insisted that I be there. I finally agreed, even though it really meant just lurking by the side, under the stage level with the staff, watching what was going on onstage on the monitor with Steve who’s in charge of big screens. 

The camera loved him. And he loved it back, losing himself in the moment as he got high on the music they made. The audience was losing it too, screaming in frenzy because he made them feral. It all looked just like one big orgy. I had seen it many times before, that’s why I didn’t really want to be there, but I still couldn’t get my eyes off that screen. I was very familiar with all those faces he made. I had heard those moans before, I had watched him arch his back just like that before, the way he bit his lip, how his brows furrowed… I could tell he got bolder with it over time. I was mesmerized, but there was one big problem. The whole arena was watching this with me now, equally enchanted, but he was interacting with them and I felt unwelcome. I had seen some pictures, watched two or three shorts, but nothing could prepare me for this. 

He ran down the stage a few times that evening, waved at me the first time, blew me a kiss a moment later, but as the evening progressed, I suddenly felt like losing him. It was an unwelcome surge of panic and just when I thought I got it under control, he ran past me and the next thing I saw on the screen was him right at the barricade, letting himself be hugged and groped by all those random people. I had enough. I couldn’t breathe. I excused myself and ran to the green room to pour myself a generous amount of whiskey. 

Fast forward back to where we were, in the car on our way back to the hotel. “Not here,” I retorted. “Later.” The rest of the ride was tense. He kept looking sideways at me, I kept being extremely absorbed in examining the hem of my shirt. As soon as the door of our shared apartment closed behind us, he confronted me. 

“So, we’re here. Care to explain why you’ve been behaving like such an insufferable bitch tonight?”

“Oh that’s rich, Joshua. By all means feel free to make it aaaall about my behavior again. Nothing wrong with you acting like an insolent and inconsiderate slut!” 

“Inconsiderate…” He looked as if I just punched him. 

“Yes!” I hissed, “inconsiderate! You know, it’s funny how you find this worth reacting…but not the fact that I just called you a slut.”

He just laughed and shook his head in disbelief as he headed straight to the minibar to pour  himself a drink. “Well,” he trilled, “you didn’t shake the bitch allegations either, my love. At least I’m fun to be around.” 

I just huffed and went towards the balcony to open the glass door. I really needed some fresh air. “Yeah, I’m not amused. But you don’t seem to mind. You were having a really good time there, with their hideous, overlong nails scratching your tits. Or when you were moaning into the microphone, almost pretending that you were fucking them all.” With that, I collapsed on the couch. 

“So what do you want me to do to amuse you? You want me to fuck you? Let’s fuck in earnest, no pretending.  Will that make it better? Do you want me to show you what and who I’m REALLY thinking about when their nails scratch my skin?”

“No Josh, you fucking me wouldn’t really sort out anything I’m afraid, because right now I feel like you’re fucking with me all the fucking time. I want to claim you, because I love the way you’re looking at me when I’m deep inside you and when you have to bite your lower lip just to stop it from quivering, you know. Not only because I really, really love that sight, but also because only then I feel like I’m the only person on your radar. And that’s what I need now.”

He watched me avidly, with his head slightly tilted and his expression almost unreadable, except for the obvious arousal that was silently flowing through his whole body, and I swear you could see it glimmering behind his pupils. I definitely could see it in his tight pants. I would lie if I said that I wasn’t aroused. Truth be told, I needed to fuck him, badly. We could continue bitching about each other’s behavior later. For now, angry fuck would do…

He put his glass down and slowly took off his sun jacket, all without breaking eye contact. It was like watching him in slow motion, when he palmed his hardening dick through the white satin, squeezed it briefly and then stroked it gently a few times. He loved this. He was a born entertainer, always ready to please the audience. I couldn’t help but admire the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. I was his audience now, and I had to admit to myself that this was a completely different show. 

“Ok, that’s convenient, because I’d really love you to finish what I started.” 

I had no clue what he was talking about and watched him – flabbergasted – as he turned around, pulled his pants down and bent over to unfasten the cuffs around his ankles. That’s when I saw it. A little sparkly gem between his buttcheeks. I recognised the tiny steel buttplug with a faceted stone immediately, even though we hadn’t used it much. I gave it to him for Christmas, and later he joked that it really fit the Starcatcher aesthetics, so maybe he should wear it with the rest of his jewelry, but I didn’t really expect him to actually do it!

“Josh…did you have it in for the whole show?” I tried to keep it cool, but the words only came out as a breathy whisper. He only chuckled and stretched like a cat to relieve his stiff muscles. He was still acting, completely naked now, exaggerating every move just to torture me. 

“No, darling. I wanted to, but they would have seen it under the jumpsuit. It’s quite tight, isn’t it. No, I put it in for es-tee-tee. Colors, gems and trim, darling. Now, let’s take a shower first. And close your mouth, or else I’ll fill it.” And with that he strutted into the bathroom without even waiting for me, shaking that tiny bejeweled ass just for the show. He knew that I would follow. He already had me in his grasp, metaphorically speaking. 

We often showered together. That was our personal habit, both at home or when I accompanied him on his travels. It was always our sweet moment of seclusion in his otherwise busy schedule. Very intimate, but not always blatantly sexual. Of course, sometimes it WAS blatantly sexual, but oftentimes we just talked a lot, kissed a lot, washed each other’s hair, just took care of each other. Just tracing my fingers down his spine was enough to help me forget about the gloomy world beyond our walls. Not to mention being inside his walls, but I digress…

I took my time. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of following him like a pet dog, so I stripped slowly, took a few more sips of my drink and walked indolently into the bathroom. Just for the show. I expected him to wait for me by the counter, but he didn’t. He was already in the shower, steam already filling the room. I slid the glass door open and started. He was standing there, right under the stream, facing the door, his eyes boring into me. He was quite a sight, too. Not having bothered with the stage makeup, the streaks of smudged eyeliner were now running down his cheeks, over the remaining rhinestones. Wet hair already flattened and pulled back. This was intentional. He was still provoking me. 

We just observed each other warily before he broke the silence and asked me nonchalantly if I could just wash his back. I gestured to him to turn around and did as he asked. I poured the vanilla-scented body wash in my hands and soaped his body with it, just like I always did. And just like he always did, he started talking about the events of the day. Some tiktok video they filmed after the soundcheck that I didn’t care about. 

His tone was completely casual, in spite of the fact that I held his balls firmly in my hand, gently massaging them with my soap-covered hand. I let my other hand travel slowly down his left buttcheek towards that little surprise he had there for me previously. 

“So tell me, Josh. Why this?” 

I watched him smile at the question. His previous restlessness suddenly made perfect sense. The whole time I was sulking and worrying about us, about his behavior and his intentions, he was just getting himself off. I took the bejeweled plug in my fingers and twisted it gently. He arched his back and moaned softly. I just loved listening to him. His lovely mouth could elicit the most delicious high-pitched whimpers. So I did it again. This time, his head landed on my shoulder, exposing his neck to me. I let my nose brush against my favorite place right under his earlobe. This was dangerous territory. Everytime I let myself wander through the smooth valleys of his lithe body, I was close to losing my mind, and he knew it. He was narcotic. Normally, it just meant that earth-shattering sex would follow, but I needed to stay focused, because I had to resolve this first: “Fucking tell me, Josh,” I hissed.

“I…I like to keep myself perked up, my love. I can’t go onstage…oh, yes, thee-e-e-ere…I can’t go onstage drunk, or high…dammit…that would, aaah would be unprofessional, yeah?” He chuckled.  “So I just keep myself turned-on instead. It’s good for the show.”

“For the show, eh? You’re a liar.”

“No…no-ah, I’m not lying, dear. I keep myself turned on…and when I feel the rhythm in my bones and when I let the… the melody soar through my veins, I imagine your dick inside me. Or your fingers. Aaaall because they lo-oooh-love seeing me like that. So you see, it’s good for the show. They can feel it. Our love. Just…genuine…love. The feeling is omnipresent…and I want to share it.”

The insolence! “You see Josh, that’s the problem,” I whispered while my teeth grazed his jugular, “I don’t want to share it.”

With that, he turned around and kissed me gently, letting the tip of his tongue just brush against mine. With his left hand stroking the nape of my neck, his right palm slowly wandered down my torso, fingertips lightly grazing my left nipple, and further down, until he had me in his grasp, now literally speaking. I fell under his spell again, utterly and completely, and I no longer wanted to fight it. I had to remind myself that tonight was supposed to be my night, that I was supposed to be in control, but I was slowly losing it anyway. He sensed it, and generously put me back on track, while still jerking me off. 

“Honey, this is us. This is just us. I share the miracle, you see? That’s my job. But you don’t share me with anyone. You own me!” 

Oh yeah, that worked. His words felt like a detonator. Perhaps more than he had intended them to. I’m sure they were partly meant to soothe me, but something really snapped in me and all those pent-up emotions suddenly begged to be released. I lost all my remaining mental clarity and acted upon it without really thinking. I pushed him against the wall and firmly wrapped my hand around his throat. His head hit the tiles with a dull thud and even though my own actions took me by surprise and I saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes, I couldn’t stop. I kept him pinned to the wall with my thigh pushing his legs apart. He belonged to me, and I needed him to understand it.

I’m not the world’s strongest man, but I’m bigger than him. Three inches taller, and I could overpower him without much difficulty. That’s why I had always been rather gentle with him, even though he’s a hotheaded bastard and always fights back like a mad chihuahua. Not this time. He just watched me with those doe-like eyes and his mouth slightly ajar, while his hands just rested on my chest. I barely felt the touch. He was a meek lamb, a rag doll, but his face told me a different story. I could see his previously bewildered expression transform into a defiant one. He tilted his chin up, nostrils flared. He was daring me, breathing heavily and waiting for my next move.  

“Damn right I do! Fuck, you’re mine,” I growled and tightened my grip on his neck, while my other hand kneaded his left buttock.  

He whimpered and I recognized the sound. I’d heard it many times before. Everytime I pounded into him with feral force, when I pulled his hair, or when I smacked his ass, because that was the only part of his body I ever dared to leave a mark on. 

“You like this, you little fucker.”

He closed his eyes, breathing raggedly through his nose. I could feel his semi spring up and twitch against my thigh. I could tell just by his fingertips now clawing at my chest that he really did. But I needed to hear it. 

“Answer me!” 

“Yeah,” he finally breathed out and our eyes met again. 

We were both very sensual people, but never overly violent with each other. It’s not that the idea never crossed my mind, because I really like rough fuck. Sue me. I’d had my fair share of “tough love” during the time spent with my previous lovers. Truth be told, he was often pushing my buttons, and it took all my willpower not to act. All smiles and sunshine on the outside, he could be an insufferable brat sometimes. I just always had to remind myself that I couldn’t leave a mark, even though his own nails frequently branded me with scratches. But that was it. It was part of the deal. I treated him like my pampered darling, even at times when I just had to shut him up with a gag… some occassional BD sans SM, that’s how we rolled. It just occurred to me that treating him like that might have been a mistake. I just had to make sure that he was really agreeing to this.

I let go of his neck and let my fingers travel up his jaw and into his wet hair, all without breaking eye contact. We were watching each other intently, trying to communicate without words, searching for clues. I cradled his head in my hands, my fingers massaging the back of his head. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. 

“Does it hurt?” 

He shook his head silently. I placed a trail of short kisses up his neck until I reached his earlobe and nibbled on it gently. I felt him pull me closer to him as he pressed his fingertips convulsively into the flesh on my hips until it almost hurt.

“Are you ok?” I whispered in his ear. He nodded and rubbed his nose against my cheek. A brief moment of tenderness was exactly what we both needed to reassess our position. Now it was the time to remind him of his role…

“Fine, on your knees!” I pushed him down, perhaps with not enough force, because it did not wipe that defiant look off his face, but I was well aware of the fact that he also still had that thing deep inside him. I was pumped, but not reckless. He was now kneeling right under the shower stream, small rivulets of water running down his face as he looked up at me, blinking. I had to take a deep breath not to cum just from the sight.  

“Open your mouth.”

…and he didn’t. Because he knew. That dastardly sneer of his is going to be the end of me one day, but I usually tolerate it. Not only because it’s hot as fuck, but also because it tells me he knows what I need. Or better yet, what he makes me need…and crave. I certainly hadn’t known that I needed my head to be treated like a lollypop until he taught me it was what I craved. Parting his lips ever so slightly, it just rested on them until he darted his tongue out into the slit, savoring every little drop of my precum. He had this habit of looking up at me when he was doing this, because he knew it was driving me crazy. 

So that’s what he was doing. Licking at my glans, watching me, daringly. I wasn’t having it. Enough of this game. I grabbed his head and buried my cock in the back of his throat. He gagged on it violently, darting his head backwards. I was still holding his head in both of my hands, though, and pushed him back, fucking his mouth in ferocious speed until he tapped on my thigh. Only then I released my grasp, watching him gasp for air. He looked up at me again, and whispered: “More.” 

And more he got. Oh god, that was so sexy, him literally begging me to choke him with my dick. I adjusted my pace, sliding in and out of those full, swollen lips. Grabbing my butt with both his hands, he urged me to go deeper, to fill him up, to obstruct his airway passage again. He tried to relax, letting my cock glide smoothly on his velvet tongue. I was getting close, dangerously close, but I wasn’t done with him yet. His mouth was perfect, but I needed more. 

Before I stopped, I grabbed him by the nape of his neck, pushed him down my shaft and held him there for a while, until I felt his throat contract and his body convulsed. Another gag, another gasp. I let go and tilted his chin up lightly with my index finger. The running water quickly washed away the thick strings of saliva and the tears, but he still looked a mess, exhausted and tamed. He was also very hard, his eyes not the only thing looking at me. He loved this. A wave of tenderness washed over me again. Damn, it was always like this with him. A real rollercoaster of feelings. 

“Come here, my filthy princess.” 

I grabbed him by the arms, pushed him up on his feet again and pulled him into a tight embrace. I felt his chest rise and fall against mine, deep breaths interspersed with intermittent, barely audible chuckles. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Not funny, just…exhilarating.” 

My good boy. He deserved a reward. I bowed down and ran a few circles around his hardened nipple with the tip of my tongue, because he loved that. You might think I’m too soft, but this is what makes the experience really intense. I was still pissed, and full of adrenaline, but it was all because I loved him so much, and I needed him to feel it all. I ran my fingers down his spine, scratching his skin with my nails, perhaps more than necessary. But it was necessary. With the actual words still stuck in my throat, the touch was my language now. He looked at me again with a sweet smile, the tip of his tongue grazing his upper lip.

“So…now that it’s settled and I promise to be good, are you going to do that thing, darling?”

“That thing” meant me sucking his dick with my fingers knuckles deep in his ass. “Yeah, baby, you’ve earned it,” I stroked his cheek with my right hand while the left one traveled down right between his asscheeks...”let’s pull this out, then?” He nodded and turned around, resting his elbows against the tiles. It was my turn to get down on my knees. Yeah, I hear you, not very dominant of me, but you need to understand that this man has got the most fabulous ass I’ve ever seen, and I swear I’m gonna kiss and bite and spread and lick it any time I get the opportunity to do so. 

I put some shower gel on my fingers and circled them around the plug. “Try to relax.”

“I know,” he spat impatiently through his teeth. That earned him a smack on his right buttock. Brat. I pulled the plug out gently, eliciting a long, breathy and relieved moan from him. I massaged the opening a bit, washing the rest of the soap out, before I grabbed him with both hands to spread him a bit more for me. What a glorious view. I buried my face in it and darted my tongue out. 

“Oh god,” he breathed out as I licked into him. 

The flowing water was starting to get on my nerves so I turned it off before I turned him around to face me. It was now my turn to taste his leaking tip. A few swift cat licks made him clutch at my shoulders tight and he almost lost his balance when I swallowed him whole. I reached behind him and gently pushed my middle finger inside him while my head bobbed up and down his dick. I pushed my finger deeper, curled it towards me and set a steady rhythm of my movements. 

His breath suddenly quickened and I could feel him pulsate on my tongue. It was a matter of mere seconds. No. I stopped, retreated abruptly and stood up. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull and he was gaping at me in disbelief. I just smiled at him maliciously. He thought he could play with me, so let’s make this a shared experience. 

“What the hell?!?” My plan worked perfectly. He practically shouted it at me. He was furious. Cute. 

“I haven’t come yet, so what on earth made you think that I would let YOU, “ I smirked.

“Fuck you!” he pushed me aside forcefully and stormed out of the shower, heading back into the bedroom. Dripping wet, he slipped on the floor and almost fell, which gave me more time to react. 

I ran after him. “Hey, where the fuck are yo…ouch!” The fucker slammed the bathroom door right in my face. I threw it open again with force, triyng to catch him. He was just by the bed when I reached out for his hair and yanked him back, making his back collide with my chest. “Ouch, that hurt, you bastard!” he yelled as he tried to break free from my grasp, squirming, but he stood no chance. 

“Do you want me to stop?” I hissed in his ear. 

“No…” Good. I pushed him face down on the bed, grabbed his wrists and held them firmly behind his back. I needed him to stay that way, so I searched the ground for something I could use. My eyes spotted a bathrobe that I tossed over the armchair earlier that day. Perfect. “Don’t move!” I got off him for a while to get what I needed. He looked over his shoulder, watching me as I pulled the belt out of the loops. He didn’t move, lying face down by the edge of the bed, ass up. My obedient baby.

I grabbed his wrists again and showed him the belt, making it obvious what I was going to do. “You ok with this?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

I nodded, tied his wrists behind his back and went searching for the lube. “I’m going to fuck you now, and I’m not going to be gentle about it. If it becomes too much, or you just want me to stop, just say stop. Do you understand?

“Yes.” 

“Fine. Oh, here it is.” I squeezed a generous amount of the lube on my fingers and put two of them to his asshole, rubbing it in circles before I pushed them in slowly. He was already almost ready from before, but I needed him to relax a bit more. “Now listen, I will let you cum this time. No monkey business. But I want the same from you. If you wanna cum, you’re going to behave. You’re going to beg for it. Understand?” I added a third finger and he whimpered and bit his lip, huffing. I was getting impatient. “Do-you-under-stand!?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “yes, I understand. Fuck me please. I’ll behave.”

I withdrew, slapped his butt, rubbed the remaining lube all over my cock, positioned myself and… pushed in. I had to focus all of my self-control on not pushing all the way in. He was so tight and warm and inviting, and I was all worked-up. The whole situation was a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but I just couldn’t get enough of it at the same time. His quick and shallow breaths told me that he felt pretty much the same. After several languid thrusts during which we both somehow managed to regain our composure and I quickened my pace. I grabbed his bound wrists in one hand and held his head down with the other. The room was filled with our synched moans and the slapping sound of our flesh colliding. I couldn’t get enough of him.

I grabbed his ass and slammed into him with full force. He cried out and begged me for more. His profile was absolutely entrancing, eyes squeezed shut and his mouth wide open, his melodic whines in sync with my thrusts. I needed to see more of it, so I unbound his wrists, pulled out and turned him over. 

I grabbed his ankles instead and forced his legs up, before I buried myself in him again. My heart was beating wildly. I felt the poisonous cocktail of all the previously suppressed and boiling emotions fill my veins as the pleasure overcame my senses. “Look at me!” He watched me, bewildered, while I rammed into him, sweaty and almost out of breath. Suddenly all I could hear were my own labored grunts, while he just stared at me, wide-eyed and speechless. 

“Cat got your tongue, hm? Always so…eloquent…with…them all…but not one…spare word…for your dirty little secret!” 

Adrenaline running in my veins, I continued pounding into him and almost missed the sudden shift in his mood and movements. 

“Tom…”

It was barely a whisper at first, but soon he became more and more agitated. “Tom…Tom, please. TOM! Hold on…stop…”

His face twisted in clear discomfort and his hands were clawing at my chest. I pulled out carefully. “What happened Josh? Did I hurt you?”

“No…no, m’fine. S’just a bit overwhelming, is all,” he mumbled. “Can you kiss me?”

I let his legs slide down my shoulders, leaned down and softly brushed my lips with his. I was confused, but also desperate to make this better, whatever it was. I stroked his cheek with my thumb and tried to make him look at me, but his eyes scanned the ceiling erratically and he blinked several times as he obviously tried to fight back the tears. But I could see that his eyes were already red. Now it was my turn to start panicking. Was he afraid of me? “Josh! Josh, honey, please, look at me. Are you hurt?” He shook his head and sobbed. Then his eyes finally met mine: “No, I’m alright. It’s just…please, don’t hate me Tom. I can’t stand you hating me. I was just trying to protect you.” 

The realization that hit him a minute ago now backfired back to me. And just like that my heart shattered into millions of microscopic pieces. I searched his face for more answers, those big, tearful eyes staring back at me. I stroked his hair tentatively. All the previous tension and anger dissolved and he was my sunshine boy again, but these were mere pale winter beams, and it was my fault, and the realization chilled me to my bones. He was weeping silently under me, obscured by my clouds. 

I moved slowly from between his legs and pulled him up into my embrace. He was reluctant at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around me. We just sat there for a while, cradling each other.  “I could never…,” I whispered against the damp skin right above his collarbone. “I’m just a terrible, jealous guy.”

“No, I made you jealous. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t realize…”

He couldn’t have. He’s the one who always lets his feelings pour out of him. I’ve always struggled with this. Not that I didn’t want to tell what was bothering me, I just couldn’t translate the whirlwind of my thoughts into coherent sentences. Just tell me what’s wrong, Tom. My previous lovers often lost patience with me. They always thought I didn’t want to talk and then our arguments ended with them giving up on me. Not him. He tried to make me laugh, he tried to make me yell, he tried to seduce me and he let me take all of him. I held him tight. I couldn’t let go. I was on the verge of tears, but it was him who needed comfort. I just hoped that I could give it to him. It was him who finally broke the silence. 

“Tom…” It was barely a whisper. 

“Yes?”

“I just hope you know I love you.” 

I finally loosened the embrace to look at him. My mouth was dry and my throat felt constricted, but I somehow managed to force out at least a weak “I do.” But that wasn’t enough. I knew I needed to say more: “…yes, baby, you’ve been telling me…I’m sorry,” I croaked. He took a deep breath and continued. 

“But hearing is not the same as feeling it…and,” he cleared his throat,”...and sometimes I need to feel it too. Sometimes it feels like you’re not even present. In your secret hiding place behind a thick wall and I just can’t get in!”

I buried my face in my hands. I needed a minute to process the evening’s events. “So, you seek it elsewhere?” I regretted those words almost instantly, but at least I finally forced myself to speak. 

“What do you mean? God, no!”

“No, not like that. I mean all those people, the plug. You didn’t really expl…” 

“I already told you! I wanted to share what we have.”

“By letting them touch you…”

“Cut it already!” He slapped the mattress, furious once again. “Yes, maybe you’re right…to a certain extent,” he spat out at me. “Yes, I let them touch me. I share a lot with people. It’s fulfilling and it feels natural. But it’s a different kind of love. And they understand. They didn’t grab at me, no one tried to pull me in. I share a lot with them but I don’t belong to them. But I agree with you that it's very personal. I thought about doing that for quite a while, but couldn’t find the courage to do so…unless I felt you there with me. I do miss you there. Sometimes I just miss you… anyway, about the plug…I guess today felt like a perfect day to try it. Please just tell me you understand, because I’m getting really sick of this.”

The plug was a gift from me, so yeah, I understood…kind of. Touch is important to him. But... “But why today?”

“Oh Tom,” he was tearful again. “Oh, fuck you. Really. It’s exactly three years since the day you first told me that you loved me.”

I just stared at him for a while, speechless. Then I finally lost it and started crying. “I’m a terrible person.” I felt like shit, I treated him like shit and really deserved to get a taste of my own medicine, in one way or another. But Josh is not like that. He doesn’t do that. And so it was now his turn to hug me, even though I tried to back away at first. But he’s stubborn, too. “You know, Tom, I felt it today. Among other things…”

“Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive. I understand.”

“No, you don’t... Listen Josh, I don’t need you to protect me. If anything, it should be the other way round. But I do need to feel like I belong in your life. I…I’m not sure I could continue like this.” 

Here, I finally said that. I had been afraid to utter those words aloud, because I knew they were dangerous. I expected another argument to follow, and maybe it would be the last one this time. But he only sighed and I felt him nod lightly against my shoulder. “I guess we need to make some inevitable changes then.”

I knew what he meant, but this was not just about me. And it was not just me who he’d been trying to protect. Himself, too, but also others in a way…

“Are you ready to make those changes?”

“I guess so…” 

We looked each other in the eye once more, trying to communicate the rest. At last I stood up and offered him my hand. “Come on, let me fix you a nice, hot bath.”

“No.” He took it but didn’t move. Instead, he tried to pull me back to bed. 

“No?” “No Tom, come back here, please. Make love to me.” 

He was sooo good at playing with my heartstrings. He really wanted me. He still trusted me. And from the look on his face, he needed me. I climbed back to him, took his face in my hands and kissed it. I traced my parted lips across his cheek and down to his jaw. He was like the oxygen I needed in order to stay alive and I was breathing him in. I continued upwards until our lips finally locked together. It was the first genuine kiss we shared that evening. 

How…?

“Spoon me.” As he lay down, I retrieved the previously discarded tube from the floor, lubed my fingers and cock once again and snuggled behind him. I didn’t rush it, and repeated the process once more that evening. I was nothing but tender this time, but he thought otherwise. He took my hand that was stroking his bare chest, placed it on his neck and tilted his head back. “Choke me.”

“Josh, I…you…” “Shhh, just do it. Please.” And I did. I wrapped my fingers around his throat and pulled him firmly back towards me. It wasn’t harsh. He let himself be completely vulnerable with me and I wanted to cherish it. I just rested my hand there, holding him firmly, but not with too much pressure. I could feel his pulse beating against my palm, every intake of breath. This was different than before. A moment of raw intimacy. He arched his back and reached behind to grab the back of my head. He knows I like that. I rewarded him with slow and deep thrusts, just how he loves it. He was moaning melodically to the rhythm, singing a secret song just for me now, and we rocked in tandem slowly, meeting each other halfway. Nothing else was necessary, this was everything. 

I took control again soon. Quickening my pace, I thrusted into him with a frantic urge. Goosebumps appeared all over his skin, which told me that he was very close. He always got shivers when he was approaching orgasm while I fucked him. Almost as if he was feverish. “Maddening ecstasy” – those were his words with which he once described it. I could feel him tense and tighten around me and rolled my hips once more to hit that perfect spot. “Oh my ggggnnnh Toooooohmmm….,” he let out a high pitched scream and came hard, his whole body convulsing. 

He was literally sobbing. I slowed my movements to a near stop and held his shivering body tight in my arms, waiting for his breathing to slow down. I was just about to pull out when he started moving again against me, urging me to continue, but I grabbed his hip and made him stop. He looked up at me, frowning. “What?” “Are you sure? It’s been a long night…” “No, Tom, don’t worry…come on, go on.”

I moved again tentatively, looking for any clue of his discomfort. He encouraged me again and I gradually resumed my pace. It didn’t take long. With a final groan, I buried my face in his hair, holding his now almost limp and exhausted body pressed to mine while I threshed about in an almost comical way, keeping him swaying in unison with me. We shifted a bit so that he was lying  on his belly now, me hovering above him. With the last few erratic thrusts I filled him up and we finally collapsed together into the pillows. 

We barely moved for at least another ten minutes, limbs still intertwined, eyes closed and our torsos literally glued together with sweat. Both of us simply wanted to prolong the moment, but I was slowly becoming aware of the world around us. We had left the glass door leading to the balcony open and the evening breeze finally pulled us back to reality. 

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I think a few people might have overheard us.” “Uh huh…ok…good.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Love sticks, sweat drips Break the lock if it don't fit A kick in the teeth is good for some A kiss with a fist is better than none (Florence and the Machine)

@writingcold @edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @takenbythemadness @fleet-of-fiction

[healmyhrt]

⌗ photobooth, n. sturniolo

nick x male!reader

summary: you share a sweet moment with nick in the photobooth at prom.

disclaimers!: kissing, mild cursing, use of y/n, short

a/n: i’ve never written anything nick related before, so i wanted to switch it up a little and give nicolas some love <3. tell me how i did, and feel free to leave constructive criticism!

i waited in line next to the photo booth, fidgeting with my fingers anxiously. it was senior prom, and i didn’t even have a date, so i wasn’t quite sure why i was at the photo booth anyway. memories, i guess.

i was a few couples and friend groups away from being next, when i hear a familiar voice call my name from behind me.

“y/n?”

i turn around, and i’m met with nicolas sturniolo, my crush. he grins widely when he sees my face, and leans in to give me a hug. the hug is quick, but i wish it could’ve lasted longer.

we both share a step back to look at each other’s outfits. nick was wearing a white button down, with black slacks and a velvet red tie. i look at his shoes, and he has black high-top converse on.

“i like that you went with comfortability before style.” i say, pointing to his converse, with a smile. he laughs and pulls up a pant leg to show the full shoe, and his funky socks. his socks were purple with black bats all over them.

“fuck yeah. always.” he replies. a few more people move up in the line, and nicolas and i proceed with our conversation as the line continues along.

“so who are you here with?” i finally ask. nick sighs, and looks at the ground. “nobody. not many openly gay boys here, unfortunately.” he replies with a shrug.

“same.” nick looks up and shares a small smile. we’re next up in the photobooth, and i hold the curtain open so nick can go in before me.

“why, thank you.” he says in a british accent. i bow dramatically in response. “of course, good sir.” i reply, mimicking his accent. he laughs, as i seat myself next to him.

i take an envelope out of my jacket pocket, and hold out a ticket. “how many photos did you pay for?” i ask. nicolas takes a ticket out of his pants pocket, and reads it.

“five.”

“me too! we could uh— we can double them, and each get the same five, if— if you’d like.” i stutter out. he smiles, and takes my ticket out of my hand, inserting them both.

“pick a frame!” the machine speaks to us, loudly, i might add. nick scrolls through the frames on the tiny screen, and stops on the pink frame with hearts all over it, that was titled “Love Burst”.

i nervously look at him, and he clicks on the frame, submitting it into the machine. the countdown starts, and i look at nick in panic for what poses to do.

he chuckles, and turns me around, putting his back against mine. we both cross our arms, and put on serious faces into the camera.

the next countdown starts, and we do the same pose, but this time holding up finger guns, and smiling.

“what pose now?” i question.

nick puts an arm around my shoulder, and takes my arm, putting it around his. he smiles into the camera, but i just look at him. i cant help but look at him.

the next countdown begins, and we don’t even realize it. nick turns his head to stare back at me, and i stare into his blue eyes, as his dark pupils dilate.

the camera makes a click sound that grabs our attention, and we realize that its the last one.

“last one.” nick says, turning back toward me. i nervously trail my eyes down from his eyes to his lips, and he definitely notices. “what pose now?” he asks, with a grin. he leans in closer to me, my eyes still on his lips.

“can i kiss you?”

nicolas nods, and i immediately smash my lips onto his. i feel like i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, and i honestly have. i’ve had a crush on nick since i was in the 6th grade, and here i was sharing a kiss with him in the photobooth at our senior prom.

the camera flashes, and i pull away, while a blush coats my cheeks. we step out of the booth, and collect our snapshots.

they looked perfect.