#swear to fucking god I’ll be at my limit if it’s not

[holybatgirlz]

Me at Shondaland and Netflix while I wait for confirmation that Benedict and Sophie will be season 4 and not another sibling instead:

[tonycries]

Dirty Lil’ Secrets!

Synopsis. They all have their habits in bed - some so filthy you can’t help but keep them your dirty little secret.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, size differences, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), vibrators, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Choso’s side), praise, degradation, exhibitionism, fíngering, semi-public, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. This came to me while watching Pink Panther, I think I should watch Pink Panther more often.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Take it or he makes you

Now, Toji knows he’s got a big dick - huge, even. And to him it doesn’t make a difference - either you take his fat cock like the good lil’ slut you are, or he shoves it in your snug cunt and watches you gasp so deliciously around him, eyes watering, swollen lips dropping into a pretty little oh! 

“Ah- hngh daddy s’too big. I don’t think-”

“You will, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, leaning down till his breath is hot against your ear. “Because I’ll make it fit.”

Okay, maybe he lied - maybe it really does make a difference. Because right now, with you already so cockdrunk as he bullied his furiously leaking tip into your sloppy hole - Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder.

“Are- are you at least hngh- halfway in, daddy?” he hears you whimper. Cock twitching so animalistically inside you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. 

Toji can’t help but huff out a laugh, brows furrowed, greedy gaze stuck on the obscene way your pretty lips struggle to take him in. Pussy spread open so shamefully for him, quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below. 

“Nope.” he hums, popping the p, reaching down to lick a long, languid stripe up the delicate tear streaming down your cheek.

God, he has to fight down some feral, animalistic part of him that wants to just plunge his throbbing cock into you till his heavy balls smack your ass. But no - not yet. What’s the fun if he can’t see you struggle a bit more?

Instead pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Each one has his prominent veins pulsing angrily against your walls, hitting that one spot just right. A maddening bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to. 

Stretching you to your limits. You could almost feel his achingly hard tip hitting your cervix already.

Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. 

Feral grunts leave him at the way you moan breathlessly at each motion, scrambling to grab onto the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to ground you to your sanity as you’re split apart on his achingly hard cock.

Ah, how he loved this little song and dance. A few tears, a few whines - his lil’ slut pretending like you couldn’t take it all - as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. He loves your cute lil’ mewls when you can’t decide between wanting to run away or milk the soul out of him. 

“Now now,” Toji tuts, looping two muscled arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. 

You let out a delirious squeal as he pulls you down down down - onto his thick cock. Plush walls taking him in greedily inch by fucking inch. Hungry for more.

He knew his pretty girl could do it - you always do. 

“Don’t think you can run away from me, doll.” he groans over your pathetic little yelps of “Ah! Too- too big, daddy! Gonna break-”

“Then break f’me.”

And with that, Toji’s had enough of playing nice - ramming in the rest of his length in one, harsh thrust. Not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. 

A low hiss leaves him as his abs rub your skin, twitching balls finally smacking against your ass. Finally taking all of him.

Finally bottoming out. Ah, this is what he’s wanted for s’long - teasing himself just as much as you.

“Oh! Oh my- ah, fuck. Want it- need it s’bad. Please- ngh-” you mewl, hips bucking wildly. Too cock-drunk on the way the tufts hair at his toned pelvis scratch against your throbbing clit to even form proper sentences. God, you think you could almost cum just from the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full of him.

“Feel me in you, pretty girl?” he rumbles, low and dangerous. “Feel me right…” he trails a long finger in between the valley of your breasts. Featherlight touch dancing down, down, down to your navel, pressing hard onto your stomach, “...there.” 

You gasp at the pressure, breath catching in your throat at the dangerous smirk curling his lips as he begins to pull out inch by inch - agonizingly slow. Getting ready to fucking ruin you.  Because boy does it stroke his ego to see you absolutely wrecked by his huge cock, struggling to just take him - but this is where the real fun starts.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The family man

Nanami’s a very steady man - he always has been.

A steady job, a steady schedule, a steady relationship with you. So, really, it makes sense that he wants a kid, or two - or four with the ways he’s got you folded in half beneath him. Legs thrown over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down-

A mating press. Nanami Kento had you in a fucking mating press.

And it was very dangerously quickly becoming his favorite thing.

You weren’t sure what to expect with that off-hand comment about wanting kids, but it surely wasn’t for your loving husband to fucking rip your skirt off and bend you over the nearest flat surface, throbbing cock now buried in your dripping pussy.

That was a few days ago.

And now every night without fail, you have Nanami’s seed dripping down your legs, still-achingly hard erection buried in your poor cunt - you doubt you’ll make it out alive this time.

“K-Kento- Hah- hngh, I feel s’full- so-”

“Shhh, darling. One more. Jus’ one more, all you gotta do is take every drop.” he hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Brows furrowed, sweat trickling down his temple, cock ramming into you at such a filthy pace. 

Warm - so warm with his seed. It jolted some carnal part of him - all the way down to his achingly hard cock - to know that he was the one doing this to you. That was his cum filling your pretty pussy. And everyone else would know.

God, you can do nothing but sit there and take it as Nanami edges you closer and closer to your nth orgasm tonight. Thumb drawing rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit that match the merciless pace of his hips. 

Over and over. A quick, maddening tempo he was losing his mind to.

Desperate, so desperate to get you off. 

“Gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with need, mind hazy. “Gonna be so round and pretty with my kid, right, darling?” 

You nod eagerly, as he increases his pace impossibly. Your skin stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your kiss-bitten lips each time his hips hit yours. 

Drool drips delicately down the corner of your mouth at how animalistically he was fucking you. None of that familiar tenderness - only the pure, filthy desire to breed your pretty lil’ cunt full. All his. 

“You can dress ‘em up, and I’ll take ‘em to school.” he rambles, as half-delirious as you at this point. Drunk off of you and your cunt and you. “And when we’re all alone…” he trails off dangerously. Ripping his gaze from the creamy, white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “I’ll fuck another one into you.”

“Ah! Yes yes yes, please. Cum in me baby, fill me up.” 

You see white as you cum - or maybe that was Nanami painting your plushy walls with his seed, you can’t even tell at this point, too exhausted and cock-drunk. All you can feel is Nanami twitching inside you before he’s shooting thick hot spurts of his cum. Again. And again. 

“Oh- Kento, t’much. There’s so much.” you moan softly, words slurring together. Sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so deliciously overfilled as Nanami’s cum trickles out of you, forming a wet, sinful pool on the sheets below. 

“Feel it inside you, darling?” he doesn’t stop thrusting - rough, mindless movements from some deep-rooted, primal little part of him. Stuffing you deeper and deeper with his cum. Fully intent on filling you up until he was shooting blanks - or until he physically couldn’t. Whichever comes last.

Fucked-out little yelps leave you with wreckless abandon, mixing with the creaking of the bed at Nanami starts up yet another unforgiving pace, “Yes- Ah! I feel it, Kento. Feel it s’deep inside me.” “Mhm?” he purrs, teeth grazing your earlobe. Darkened eyes glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cum gushes out of you. Seeping into your skin, smearing on his abs - and his rock-hard cock. “Then, better be ready for one more, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The sweet-talker

If someone saw the ever-graceful Geto Suguru right now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes - and definitely not their ears. Such beautiful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth, but his actions were anything but. 

And it doesn’t even matter the place, he’ll come up right beside you and whisper a few seemingly harmless words. “I really love that skirt on you, angel. Is this the one I bought?” he’d say to you at the convenience store, smiling sweetly at the old woman in front of him that sighs about “young love.”

Little did anyone know that right at that moment, the innocent hand in his pocket fiddles with that little plastic remote. The one he bought specifically to make you lose your sanity.

Intensity setting 2.

“B-baby?” you whimper, breath hitching as you feel the bullet vibrator shoved inside your dripping cunt start to turn up a notch - tiny, methodical vibrations against your snug walls. 

“Yes, my angel?” 

You could almost smack the innocent grin off his devastatingly handsome face. Geto Suguru could win an Oscar for how good he was at acting like he didn’t have a firm grip on your vibrator control. Thumb running harsh, quick little circles on the intensity.

“Nothing.” you grit your teeth, nails digging into his sculpted arm as you hold onto him for support. The little bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt maddening against your cunt. Praying that no one else here could see your dazed eyes and the way your thighs were quivering desperately. God, could this queue get any longer?

You almost miss the wrinkled hand waving in front of your face, the good-natured voice in front of you asking, “You alright, dearie? You look a bit under the weather.” 

Intensity setting 3.

“I-I’m-” you choke, looking up at Geto for support. In perhaps a miraculous act of kindness, he peers down gently at the old lady. “Don’t worry, grandma. My love here has just been a bit sick today. M’taking her to the doctor after this, y’know. Isn’t that right, angel?”

Intensity setting 4.

Oh, not an act of kindness. Definitely not. 

Panties completely soaked now, pussy clenching desperately around the vibrator. You shoot a quick glare at Geto, who was urging you deceivingly lovingly to answer. God, you could almost hear the laughter inside his mind as you take a steadying breath, stuttering out a barely audible, “Y-yeah. Sick today.”

You couldn’t care less if the sigh of relief you let out is audible to everyone else in the store as the elderly woman turns away with a nod. Mind focused only on Geto and Intensity setting 4 and Geto-

“Aww, what’s wrong, angel? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” you hear that familiar faux concern from above you. “Which asshole do I need to beat up?”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 

Gritting your teeth in order to not snap or just outright demand that Geto makes you cum right here, right now. Instead, managing out an unsteady little, “Turn it down.”

“What was that, angel?”

“Turn it down, I swear to-”

You’re cut off by hot breath against your ear, Geto’s voice hoarse with desire as he mutters, “Then cum. Right here.”

And as if to prove his point, he deftly runs his fingers along the intensity control once more, rubbing maddening little circles along it. Edging your climax and your sanity like the sadistic bastard he was. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 

And you could tell by the faint smirk curling his lips that he was taunting you - torturing you to just break or break him. Whichever comes first.

Thighs trembling, knees weak, you shiver as you finally reach the counter, Geto’s thumb now firmly set on Intensity setting 4 as he speaks casually with the cashier. How dare he talk about the weather when you were reaching a breaking point here? 

Tears prick at your eyes - both at the pure overstimulation and the frustration of not being able to fucking cum. No matter how much you wanted to. 

“Angel, you don’t look too well. Want to sit down?”

You clench your jaw, trying to maintain some level of composure as Geto pays for your items. Every second feels like an eternity, every nerve ending screaming for release. 

You muster a weak nod even as you can feel your thighs quivering, blood roaring in your ears - you refuse to let him win. At least this time.

“C’mon now, let’s get you home and rested.” By the time Geto steers you to the exit, you’re practically begging for relief. His arm hot around your waist, your vision blurring at the edges. You’ve only made one step outside when-

Intensity setting 5.

You cum with a strangled yelp. Nails digging into Geto’s forearm hard - part in surprise and part revenge for all of that. His strong arm being the only thing grounding you - and the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the fucking ground.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and for a brief moment, all you can do is breathe, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shudders at the shockwaves of electricity. God, you almost think you see the pearly gates of heaven at the sheer intensity of your pleasure.

When you crack open your eyes again, you find Geto staring at you. Ah, an angel.

“Well, you should be thankful I went easy on you this time.”

Nevermind, it’s the devil incarnate.  Geto leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Hope you’re not feeling too ‘under the weather’, angel. Because I’ve got a plan in mind and we’re going to be doing something much more fun than going to the doctor."

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marked up and all his

Choso knew you were hot - it only bothered him that everyone else did too. 

Which is probably why you’ll often find him all but dragging you into the nearest bathroom at whatever party. Barely even locking the door before he’s got you pressed against the cold counter, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds. 

“Choso, baby~” you whine softly from where his furiously flushed head was kissing your dripping cunt, barely audible over the loud thumping of the music from the other side of the door. “More, deeper.”

And, well, whatever his sweetheart wants - she will get. Because he immediately presses in, plunging inch by fucking inch into your sloppy heaven. Veins dragging so maddeningly across your walls as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 

“This what you want? To be split apart on my cock, sweetheart?” He groans into the crook of your neck, your sweet moans going straight to his aching cock. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, he nibbles lightly - all part of his plan.

“Hah- Hngh, yes baby. Jus’ like that.” Enveloping himself in your warmth, thrusting in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Not even wanting to get himself off - just wanting, needing to feel your pretty pussy around his cock. To prove to himself that you were his.

But it wasn’t enough.

Mouth still relentlessly marking and biting your skin, Choso guides your legs to wrap around his toned waist - a signal to pull, to use him to your heart’s content.

“Fuck, Choso- Fucking me s’good.” Your legs tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s all Choso ever wants. 

One hand deftly snakes it’s way down to your throbbing clit, rolling his thumb along the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more-

And the other - ah, yes, he can’t forget why he’s here - neat fingernails digging deep into your skin. Leaving pretty crescents in their wake - just below where your tight lil’ party dress hiked up. To show all those losers on the dance floor who you belong to.

Dragging. Marking. 

His mouth leaves their place from your neck to whisper against your lips, darkened eyes boring into yours, “You’re mine, y’know that?” 

You can do nothing but nod breathlessly into the heady air, hips bucking wildly underneath him as he increases his pace. Keening deliriously at the bruising grip on your hips and the even harder one on your poor cunt.

“Mine. All mine.” he grits out, twitching balls smacking your ass, rock-hard cock dipping in and out in and out in and-

“Those losers can’t fuck you the way I do, sweetheart.”

And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity running down your spine - and your nails raking down Choso’s. Red-hot patterns in their wake - and that’s exactly what sends him over the edge. “Ah- Shit shit shit, yes mark me till m’bloody yes-”

And maybe you do, because his throbbing cock twitches deeply in your pussy. Thrusting once, twice before he pumps thick, hot ropes into your fluttering walls. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. 

Two arms kneading your ass - wrapping bruisingly around your waist - touching any and every inch of skin he could reach. Leaving pretty little marks for days.

You can feel such a sinful, sticky mixture of his slick and your cum trailing down your legs as he fucks you both through your highs. Pooling at the cold counter, stomach now uncomfortably hot, vision blurry - yet you still manage to make out the satisfied grin on Choso’s face. 

Pure pride shining in his eyes as he takes in your fucked-out state, marks blossoming along your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. 

Ah, success.

But he’s barely had time to bask in his victory till you murmur out a quick “Hold on.” Pulling him firmly by the collar of his t-shirt. Lips firmly slotting over the sensitive skin peaking out. 

Choso’s breath hitches as you bite and tease the skin - a pathetic little imitation of the absolute wreck he’d havoced on your skin - not pulling away until you’re satisfied with the dark, red mark blossoming on his milky skin. 

“There. Perfect.” you flash an almost-innocent grin at him. And despite all that transpired in this heady bathroom, this is what makes his knees weaken so desperately. Oh, how he loved being yours.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The show-off

If the King of Curses owns something nice and pretty, then you can bet he’s going to show it off to everyone and anyone that crosses him. It doesn’t matter if it’s human trash or some lowly curse he’s just about to kill, all of them have the same last sight - you.

You, sat so prettily on the hulking king’s lap. All doe-eyed and batting your lashes so innocently at him as he wielded chaos on his throne. 

It made them almost want to save you from this monster, only to realize - if Sukuna was feeling particularly generous that day - that he was the last thing that you needed saving from. 

Because if by some miracle, Sukuna was feeling generous - and decided that those scum that bow beneath him should see something pretty before they die - then they see you. Legs spread so shamefully on his lap, large arms the width of your head keeping them open for your guests.

Sukuna trails his rough fingers dangerously down your robe - one that does absolutely nothing to hide your curves or the heaving of your chest. Thin fabric tearing easily under his sharp fingernails, exposing such tantalizing flashes of skin as whoever’s watching gulps heavily in both fear and anticipation. 

He doesn’t stop till your robe is all but hanging off you now, dripping cunt soaking the tattered fabric as you keen desperately into his touch. 

“Shhh, my lil’ slut.” he murmurs, low and gravelly into your ear, hot breath sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. “Wouldn’t want to be rude in front of our guests, hm?”

Whoever’s bowing before you two don’t know what makes shivers run down their spine more - Sukuna’s dangerous words or the way you whine desperately. “But Sukuna~” grinding onto his very obvious erection as you do, “Wan’ you so badly, haven’t been filled by you today.”

Shit, scratch that. The scariest thing here was the deep chuckle that echoes across the throne room - the King of Curses laughing. Laughing. 

They watch in horror - unable to rip their eyes away - as he snakes down two large fingers to your dripping cunt, spreading open your swollen folds. Absolutely delighting in the way you flutter around nothing - his lil’ slut, so desperate for him. 

You buck readily into his hold as Sukuna bullies two large fingers into your snug cunt. Ready walls clenching down so sinfully at finally getting some of the friction you’d been aching for all day.

“Ohh, yes. Sukuna, finally. Wanted you in me s’bad.” you squeal as he curls his fingers deftly inside you, expertly grazing that familiar spot he knew would have you falling apart in a matter of a few seconds. 

“So spoiled.” Sukuna hums, a sly grin curling his lips - and the scum bowing before him completely forgotten - as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole. Thrusting in rough, jerky little movements that no matter how filthy and unrefined they seem - hold a dangerous, calculated intent as he hits that spot over and over.

The ones before you find their cocks hardening traitorously at your breathy whines and the lewd squelching sounds. Torn between training their eyes on the ground and greedily watching your thighs quiver on the monster’s lap, cunt dripping so obscenely onto his robe. 

“Look at her.” a sharp order jolts them out of their reverie. Sukuna didn’t have to ask, he knew you were a heavenly vision in his little hell. Yet, he continues anyway, amusement spiking at the way they can do nothing but gape at what they can never have “Look. So desperate f’me. Should I make her cum?”

“Nooo, Sukuna don’ be mean~” you whine half-deliriously at the silence that follows. Voice strangled at the merciless pace Sukuna had on your cunt, rolling your swollen clit on his fingers, dipping in and out in and out in and-

Sukuna chuckles darkly in your ear, over the protests of the trash at his feet, “Seems like they don’t want you to cum.” He increases his pace ruthlessly, over and over. Hitting that spot with reckless abandon, delighting in the way you writhe and convulse on his lap. “But s’alright, I’ll be the one to make you cum. Your king, hm?”

And make you cum he does. Adding three fingers into your tight cunt now, thrusting in and out at a pace that has you bowing into his hulking body. Over and over. Hurried. Hasty. Almost torturous for those watching.

“Ah! Yes yes yes, Sukuna~ M’gonna-” you can barely finish the sentence before you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, broken moans of Sukuna’s name leaving your swollen lips. He doesn’t stop - not when your orgasm is mere tingles, your voice too raw to even let out fucked-out moans. Not even when you’re quivering and fidgeting on his laps.  Not even when he leans down to mutter in your ear, voice husky with pure need, “Now, how should I kill these fuckers off?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Just a lil’ taste

The great Gojo Satoru loves all things sweet, and that includes you. Not just you, but your pretty lips, your sweet cunt, and the sweetest - something else he’d never admit to anyone but you - the taste of him in you.

And right now - bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt, his heavy balls smacking your ass over and over as he rams into you hard, fast - Gojo knows there’s something for him to look forward to. 

The bed creaks in protest as he chases the heavenly feeling of your tight pussy around him, mixing with the filthy moans leaving your mouth.

He was probably going to get another noise complaint - good, let them nosy fuckers know how good he makes you feel.

“Ah! Hah- hngh, Toru filling me up s’good.” you mewl and buck your hips underneath him for more more more- wanting, needing the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously. His glistening veins dragging along that one spot so deliciously, pulsing against your tight walls at an urgent, incessant rhythm. 

“Oh yeah?” he grunts. Cock pushing into you deeper and deeper, cervix kissing your tip so painfully good. “Like this? Like it when I fuck you like this? Can’t get enough of it, hm?”

Because of course, Gojo Satoru can’t stop running his mouth even when he’s fucking you relentlessly. Even when his thrusts grow frenzied, sloppy with desire. And especially not when you’re creaming on his achingly hard cock.

God, you’re so fucking perfect he can’t help but lose himself in the heat of the moment as well. 

Body arching off the bed, you see stars behind your eyes as Gojo cums in thick, hot spurts inside your fluttering walls. “Shit, oh Toru, s’full inside me hah-”

You think you probably cum harder just at the sight before you. 

Gojo��s head thrown back, blue eyes prettily rolling to the back of his head as he bites his lips in concentration - desperately trying to fight off that feral, animalistic part of himself that just wants to fuck his cum deeper and deeper inside your dripping cunt. Wrestling that urge to breed you full to the back of his mind. 

No, because he’s got bigger things in mind. 

Bigger things that include urgently dropping to his knees as soon as your breathless moans bate. He wrestles your hips on the mattress, grip bruising on your waist as he pulls your pretty cunt closer. All wet and painted white with his cum, dripping so obscenely onto the fresh sheets below.

Mouth dropping into a soft oh! at the sinful sight before him, Gojo doesn’t waste a second before surging forward. 

Nose-deep in your pussy, he doesn’t stop till he’s nose-deep and breathing you in so obscenely. Tongue bullying its way in between your swollen folds, dipping into your sloppy entrance in and out in and out in and out-

He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you. 

Sweet. 

The absolutely filthy mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down his tongue as he laps up your juices with the desperation of a madman. God, it makes the blood rush straight to his dick at the way your mouth drops open in disbelief - he never does get used to it.

Messy. It was so fucking messy. 

“Mmm, s’sweet on my tongue, baby.” he slurs, drunk off the absolutely intoxicating taste of your sin. “Fuck- Can’t get enough of it. Shit.” 

You flinch as he swears into your throbbing cunt. Seeing flashes of white behind your eyes each time he flicks his tongue just right to graze over all your most sensitive spots. You could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue.

And you probably do really cry when Gojo moves up your dripping pussy, sucking on your swollen clit. Rolling his tongue over and over at the same maddening pace of the tears down your cheeks. 

Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s done with his little feast - and moving on to torture you full time now.

Gojo huffs out a laugh into your cunt, popping off your abused clit with a lewd pop! Hands snaking down to grab his rock-hard base. Pulling in short, desperate little tugs to get himself ready for what was to come. “Yeah, m’done, baby.” he chuckles darkly. Shit, did you say that out loud? 

But you have no time to wonder too long about that, instead stuck on that dangerous little glint in his eyes as he stands from his position nose-deep in your cunt. Swiping his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you. 

Dazed, your eyes drift from his slick-glossed mouth down, down, down to-

Oh.

“Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna be feasting again real soon.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[cameronluvr]

JAILED — toxic!rafe x fem reader

summary: the cops pull rafe over for speeding and erratic driving, but things only escalate when they find you crying in the passenger seat.

warnings: arguing/fighting, speeding, domestic abuse, toxic relationship, DUI, cussing, rafe literally putting readers life at risk, oh, and he goes to jail.

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

what started off as a perfect evening, soon turned into a dreadful night all thanks to rafe. the two of you were at the beach, drinking and having fun with a few kooks before an argument broke out between the both of you.

you don’t even remember what caused the argument, all you could think about was how he verbally abused you in front of his friends, and physically forced you to get into his car.

your house wasn’t too far away from the beach, but getting there felt like a lifetime sitting in rafe’s passenger seat as he screams in your ear the whole time.

“what the fuck were you thinking showing me up in front of my friends like that?” rafe asks, turning to look at you instead of the road. he looks at you for so long that his car begins swerving into the next lane. “watch the fucking road! jesus!” you yell at him, quickly reaching over to grab the wheel and swerve it back into the proper lane.

“keep your hands off!” he shoves you back, making you hit the door. “ow!” you cry out. “that didn’t hurt” he tells you, shaking his head at how dramatic you’re acting.

“yes it did! pull over i wanna get out.” you tell him, but he doesn’t listen. he doesn’t respond, he just drastically speeds the car up. “rafe!” you yell at him, “stop!”

“no. i’m taking you home so you can fucking chill out.” he tells you, not even looking in your direction as he continues to speed up. “rafe this isn’t funny! you’re gonna kill us” you argue, panicking as you watch his speedometer going up and up, well over the speed limit.

“no i’m not, relax” he smirks, mocking you as if you’re overreacting. “rafe! i swear to god if you don’t slow the fuck down i’ll—”

“you’ll what?” he interrupts you, snapping his head in your direction. “i— i don’t know— just stop! i want to get out!” you stutter, unsure of what to do. he isn’t even looking at the road, and begins swerving into the next lane again, only this time there was an oncoming car.

“rafe!!!” you scream, causing him to divert his eyes to the road and swerve out of the way just in time. he finds the situation rather amusing, and can’t help but smile and laugh at your reaction, thinking that scaring you is funny.

at this point, tears are forming in your eyes. you’re terrified to be in the car with your boyfriend, given that he doesn’t care if he injures you or kills you. “really? you’re gonna cry?” he looks at you. “don’t look at me. look at the fucking road” you turn your head to face the window, crossing your arms over your chest.

“no, i’ll look at you, bein’ such a crybaby” he teases, reaching his hand over to grab the back of your neck and force your head back around. “ow!” you cry out again, trying to slap his hand away but it only makes him dig his nails into your skin. by now, the tears in your eyes are streaming down your face.

he pulls his hand away, focusing back on the road while you sob quietly in the passenger seat. less than a minute goes by, and you suddenly see flashing lights in the mirror. turning your head around, you see it’s a police car.

rafe groans loudly as the cop car gets closer, instructing rafe to slow down and pull over to the side of the road. when he eventually slows down and comes to a stop, you let out a sigh of relief.

with tears still rolling down your face, rafe turns to look at you. “stop fucking crying” he tells you. the cop soon approaches the car, asking rafe to roll down the window. he complies and begins talking to the officer.

“do you have any idea how fast you were going?” the officer asks, leaning his arms on the rolled down window, peering into the car before noticing the state of you in the passenger seat. “are you alright there, ma’am?” he asks you before rafe could answer his question.

“uh— can you please get me out of this car?” you ask, causing rafe to look at you with a frowned eyebrows and a wtf? look on his face. “let me have my partner come over here, wait a sec” the officer tells you, before signalling to his partner in the car. the other officer gets out and approaches your side of the vehicle, before he gives you permission to open the door and step out.

he walks with you to the police car, where he allows you to sit and calm down before talking to him. the other officer stays with rafe to ask him a couple questions. after asking him for the basics, name and ID, he asks rafe to step out of the car to talk.

“again, do you have any idea how fast you were going?” the officer asks rafe. “no, sir” he replies, playing dumb. “you were going almost 90 in a 50 zone. have you had anything to drink tonight?” he questions him.

“uh, a couple.” rafe shrugs. “how many’s a couple?” the officer asks, smelling an odor of whiskey coming from the young man’s breath. “i don’t know. i jus’ had 4 or 5 of them little bottles of whiskey” rafe explains.

“right. and you wanna tell me what’s going on tonight? is that your girlfriend?” the officer questions him further. “yeah, she’s my girlfriend, and nothin’ even happened. we were just at the beach and had an argument, that’s all” rafe tries to explain, but the cop is gonna need more than that.

“that’s all? if that’s all then why didn’t she hesitate to get out as soon as i came over here?” the cops suspicion grew as the look on your face when he saw you said more than terrified.

“we just argued. she’s emotional like that” rafe tries to bluff, rolling his eyes at how much worse you made the situation, but takes no blame himself. the officer can just tell the type of person rafe is just from a 5 minute interaction

— over in the cop car, you sit in the back with your legs hanging out of the open door while the officer stands and listens to your side of the story. “… and then he dragged me into the car and wouldn’t let me out when i asked him to, then he just kept speeding up to scare me and he kept laughing at me when i begged him to slow down.” you explained after sharing what happened at the beach which started all of this.

“he physically put his hands on you?” the officer asks, concerned for your safety as he glances over at his partner talking to rafe. “…yeah. he grabbed me and literally dragged me into the car.” you sob while you tell him, wiping the tears that hadn’t stopped. “did he put his hands on you while he was driving? he asks.

“uh, yeah, uh…” you stutter. “he grabbed me by the back of my neck and.. and forced me to look at him. and he shoved me into the door when i tried to turn the steering wheel because he was literally swerving into the opposite lane…”

after explaining all this and more to the officer, they have more than enough reasons to arrest rafe at this point. he leaves you alone for a moment to gather his bearings with the other cop.

“right, bud. go ahead and put your hands behind your back for me” one officer explains as the other grabs rafe’s hands, preparing to put him in handcuffs. “you’re arresting me?” rafe asks, not putting up a fight but wanting to know more about what you told them.

“yes, sir, you are going to jail.” a cop explains as he is locking the handcuffs around rafe’s wrists. “why?” he asks, acting as if he had done nothing wrong. “really? speeding, driving erratically, and driving while under the influence isn’t enough reasons for you?” one of the cops asks, making rafe tut. “what did she say to you?” he asks, looking at the one who spoke to you.

“that’s none of your business.” the officer tells him straight, which rafe doesn’t like. “yeah it is” he tries to argue, at which this point the cops are fed up of him, and start walking him over to the police car.

he sees you standing near the car, and decides to start verbally abusing you instead of staying silent. “what the fuck did you say to him?” he asks you, but you don’t answer. you just stand wiping your tears still, looking at the ground to avoid seeing him.

“don’t ignore me, you bitch” rafe says, attempting to move closer to you but both officers grab his arms and force him into the back of the cop car. “quit it!” one yells at him before slamming the door once he was sat inside.

with the door closed, rafe starts shouting at you. “is that how you speak to your girlfriend?” one officer yells at him through the closed door. rafe just tuts and rolls his eyes.

they both speak to you for a little longer before they decide to let you go, and ask you drive rafe’s car home while they take him down to the jail. you agree and get into rafe’s car, watching as the police car drove away.

you hadn’t stopped crying, and more tears flow after that whole interaction sunk into your head. you sat in the car for a whole 10 minutes before deciding to drive away. you start driving to rafe’s house to tell his dad what happened.

— you arrive at tannyhill and park the car outside, getting out and walking into the house. you quietly walk through the house not wanting to wake anybody up considering it’s nearly midnight. you see ward standing in the kitchen, so you walk over.

“ward..” you say, seeing him turn around. “sweetheart, is everything ok?” he asks you after seeing your red stained eyes and cheeks. hearing him ask you that made you tear up again, “uh…” you sniffle.

“me and rafe got into a fight and… he kinda got arrested..” you explain, afraid of how he will react. “arrested? what did he do?” he asks, walking closer to you and gives you a kind hug, rubbing your back as you cry. you’ve been going out with his son for years, so you have always seen ward as a father figure.

you explained the whole situation to ward like you did the officer, but ward’s reaction was understandably different. he was angry, ashamed of how his son would do that to the girl he supposedly loved. “i’ll speak to that son of a bitch. i won’t let him get away with that shit. i’m gonna go down to the jail. you can stay here if you want to, sweetheart” he tells you, grabbing his car keys and putting his shoes on.

“yeah, please. i’m just gonna go up to bed” you nod, sniffling and wiping your cheeks. “of course” he says, parting his ways and heading into his car. you quietly walk up the stairs and enter rafe’s room, closing the door and sighing.

what a dreadful night. you think, taking your clothes off and getting into a pair of pajamas you had left in his room. you get into bed and try to go to sleep, though too much was on your mind to get a good nights sleep.

you knew rafe would be bailed out by his dad, possibly by the time you wake up in the morning. maybe staying at his house tonight wasn’t such a good idea, you thought.

my first published piece of writing..!! idek if this is good or bad but we’ve all gotta start somewhere i suppose:) heavily inspired by ALL the rafe writers bc i spend so much time reading them all lol. lmk what you think! <333333

@cameronluvr

[rodrifc]

the sadness has a weight to it today

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer. 

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?” 

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.” 

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 

It was mom. 

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired. 

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 

Got an ikran for nothing. 

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it. 

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 

A ticking time bomb. 

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 

And you fulfilled his wish. 

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[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me ; luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: charles beckendorf wants to go out with silena beauregard more than anything. one problem: she's not allowed to date until her shrewish older sister does, so he and percy come up with a plan. (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2783

➻ warnings: swearing ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader

➻ this'll be a few chapter so this is p1!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Charles Beckendorf arrived at Camp Half-Blood when he was fifteen years old. It was a wonder he’d lasted out in the mortal world so long with his significant stature, height enough to attract monsters, but Percy — his tour guide — guessed it was probably his more reserved nature which had kept him under the radar.

“Thank God it’s you showing me around,” Was one of the first things he’d said, “When you start things like this it’s usually all the kiss-asses that greet me.” With six schools under his belt, Percy knew what he meant all too well.

“Nah man, we’re chill. And if we get this done quick then you can meet my friends, we know how to have the real fun here.”

And so they embarked on their tour, Percy dutifully pointing out all the most important places around camp. First was the Dining Pavilion, where they met Grover as he chewed on some of the tin-can remains of lunch. Then came Thalia’s Tree, under which Annabeth was drawing out a map that Charles didn’t understand in the slightest but Percy explained was a strategy for capture the flag. After that they walked past the sword fighting arena, where they caught a glimpse of Luke in the middle of a fierce duel. They both passed quickly, and Charles got the distinct impression that you weren’t supposed to interrupt Luke when he was fighting.

As the two got to the lake, Percy explaining it was where most people hung out when they had the time, Charles faltered in his steps. Percy looked back to where he was frozen and followed his sightline to Silena Beauregard and rolled his eyes.

“Who is that?” He breathed.

“Don’t even bother, bro,” Percy replied. “She’s off limits. It’s a well known fact that the Beauregard sisters aren’t allowed to date — they’re only here over the summers and their dad is crazy strict about it for some reason.”

“But she’s so—”

“Self-centred? Shallow? Silena is all looks no substance, dude. You can do better.” Percy ushered him away but Charles was still daydreaming about the beautiful Aphrodite girl.

The tour was just finishing up by the Climbing Wall when they first saw you. You held the camp record for it, and so had been delegated the responsibility of teaching the younger kids. Today though you’d had to rescue a cocky bastard from getting obliterated by lava, singeing the fabric of your camp shirt all over your left shoulder, and you were not in a good mood.

Just wanting to get back to your cabin for a change of clothes and some ambrosia, you were certainly not in the state of mind to stop and chat with a new camper. So when Percy and Charles came along blocking the whole fucking path, you didn’t hesitate to yell “Move!” Pushing past them in a huff. You wouldn’t usually be so rude, but you were pretty sure your shirt was fusing into your skin which was so not what you needed. Plus, they were in the way. Beckendorf’s bicep was warm from where you’d shoulder-checked him with your injury.

“That’s your dream girl’s older sister,” Percy snorted, used to your disagreeable personality.

“That’s Silena’s sister?” Charles asked incredulously, “But she’s…”

“A shrew? Yeah. I’d watch out for her, and kiss your dreams of going out with Silena goodbye. Now c’mon, I’ll show you to your cabin.” Charles followed mindlessly, still thinking about the two Beauregard sisters.

When people thought of you, the consensus was pretty much this: Silena Beauregard’s older sister, and the most heinous bitch at Camp Half-Blood, a title you were extremely proud of. Whilst you really didn’t think you were that bad — in fact, you considered your actions quite reasonable — younger campers cowered away when you marched through camp and the older ones rolled their eyes when you spoke. Just the way you liked it. It wasn’t exactly unusual, camp had all sorts of kids living there, not everyone was going to get along, but it was pretty unexpected for you as a daughter of Aphrodite.

You didn’t get along with most of your siblings, despite all your efforts as one of the elder campers. You thought it was ridiculous that they wouldn’t participate in camp activities, regardless of the reason. What good was having all that beauty if it was wiped off the face of the earth by a monster? There were a hundred rumours flying about to explain you and your attitude, the most popular being that you were the secret lovechild of Aphrodite and Ares, which explained your affinity for fighting and permanent bitch face. You knew better. For one you shared too many of your dad’s traits not to be his child. Plus, Aphrodite had a long history of being associated with war in Ancient Greece which everyone at camp just conveniently forgot in favour of writing her children off as useless and vain. You hated it, and you refused to be who they wanted.

Even your favourite sibling was the polar opposite to you. Silena was a few years younger than you, and by all accounts was the model of a perfect Aphrodite child. Gorgeous, of course, and usually kind and patient. In your opinion, she was kind of annoying and self-absorbed, but you chose to believe she meant well so you could keep tolerating her. You didn’t know how the only two blood-related siblings in your cabin could be so different from one another, but it had been that way since you were fourteen and she was twelve.

You had made it back to your cabin, and your shoulder was all bandaged up after your shower. You were just flipping through The Bell Jar, your latest novel, when Silena came stomping into the cabin, waving a letter frantically through the air. You could assume what it was about.

“This is so unfair!” Silena whined, “Daddy doesn’t even know Ethan!” Ethan was the new boy Silena had been obsessed with recently, writing incessantly to your father in an attempt to get him to take back the no dating rule.

“What, can’t go swap spit with the vermin of the earth?” You exaggerated a pout. She sneered at you in the mirror.

“Worse. Now he’s saying I can’t date until you do, so now I’m going to die a stupid old virgin because of you!” You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Have you ever considered there’s more to life than finding a boyfriend? Or, big shock I know, maybe I’m just not interested in the sweaty, uninspired pigs that are supplied here?”

“You suck!” She huffed, turning on a kitten heel and barging out of the cabin.

“You suck!” You mocked, turning back to your book. You knew Silena was really pissed at you for being so stubborn, but you hated the thought of changing your opinions over a man of all things.

Silena, in her frustration, was wandering around Camp Half-Blood to let off some steam. Charles, fresh from a kayaking lesson, spotted her across the beach and scrambled to catch up to her. Remembering what Percy told him about her not participating in many of the camp’s activities, he came up with the idea to offer his help to finish a project in the forges to get Chiron off her back. Silena seemed surprised but happy enough to agree, and Charles was ecstatic.

“She’s agreed to go to the forges with me!” He told Percy excitedly, and Percy raised an eyebrow.

“Do you even know how to weld?”

“Well, no, but I will!” As much as Percy liked the new kid, he was definitely a handful.

Charles’ first session with Silena didn’t go exactly as he’d hoped. She showed up already looking bored, and not keen to start off with a simple sword as he’d proposed. Soon he gave up with any welding, choosing instead to try and get her know better.

“If you’re not really into this we could try something else? I saw someone welding some metal flowers, you know, for like a date?” That caught her attention.

“Are you asking me on a date?” At his shy nod Silena couldn’t contain her slight laugh. “That is so cute! What’s your name again?” Charles told her quietly.

“Well, my Dad’s just changed our family rule — I can date when my sister does.”

“That’s great! So all you’ve gotta do is find someone who’ll date her!”

“One problem, Cameron-”

“Charles.”

“My sister is, like, totally antisocial?”

“Yeah, but people jump out of planes and stuff all the time! It could be, like, extreme dating!”

They both looked across the forge where you were working, fixing up your favourite sword after an Ares kid had done quite a number on it. You had on both your signature outfit and expression — long, practical jorts with your camp shirt tied in a knot and a dangerous bitch face.

“The oversized look is out, Beauregard, didn’t you read last month’s Vogue?” Ethan was hovering around you, trying his hardest to get a rise out of you in front of his friends.

“Run along, dickwad.” You refused to blow up at him, knowing it would only be used to make you look hysterical and unbalanced later. Plus, Ethan would get bored sooner or later and find someone else to taunt.

As Charles recounted this story to Percy later that night at the bonfire, all Percy could do was groan.

“Charles — Charlie — I really wanna like you, man, but this is probably the most stupid thing you could have done. I know they’re hot, but it’s not even worth getting involved with one Beauregard sister, and you’ve just gotten yourself tangled with both — and not in the way that most guys dream about.” Charles flushed at the innuendo.

“I think you’re wrong about Silena, I think she’s worth it. I just have to figure out how I can set her sister up with another guy.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Percy laughed, hitting Charles’ knee twice before turning away to talk to Annabeth. Charles spent the rest of the night trying to hatch a plan.

Early the next morning he got Percy on board, albeit very reluctantly. Percy brought Charles over to every single guy he could think of in your age range, begging them to take you out. The responses varied from a nervous shake of the head to Travis Stoll laughing in both boys’ faces.

“Why would I go looking for a kick in the balls?” He asked, still wheezing from his initial outburst.

They found themselves once again at the bonfire, both disheartened. Percy at having wasted a day all for this new guy he barely knew, and Charles that he was no closer to getting a date with Silena. Finally, somewhat eager to get this distraction over with, Percy came up with an idea.

“What about you just pay someone to go out with her?” He asked, and Charles considered the idea for a minute, it wasn’t half bad.

“I have literally no money,” He settled on finally, and Percy rolled his eyes.

“So you get someone else to do it for you,” He suggested, and Annabeth joined the conversation with suspicious interest.

“Like a backer?” She asked, at Percy’s nod she bit her lip, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, guys, it seems like it could really backfire on you. I mean, what if she finds out? I heard she once tied a camper to the lava wall just for looking at her wrong.”

“She won’t find out! I mean she only has to date so Silena can, it doesn’t have to be a long term thing. She goes on enough dates for it to qualify, then they break up while it’s still casual and I can go out with Silena!” Charles explained excitedly, but Annabeth still looked skeptical.

“Plus, if we have a backer, none of the blame will go to my man Charlie here,” Percy added helpfully, which swayed Annabeth a little.

“Okay, well be careful,” She said, leaving for the dining hall to be distanced from the plot.

Percy thought the answer to who the backer would be was pretty obvious. Whilst most of the boys at Camp Half-Blood wanted to sleep with Silena, Ethan White was both rich and desperate enough to agree to it. Plus when Percy Jackson was telling you you’d look great with a girl, you generally listened.

All that was left was to find someone to set you up with. The boys used the bonfire to scope out their options, but it wasn’t looking good. For one, you didn’t even show up to bonfires if you could help it, and it was anyone’s guess what you did instead. Rumours said blood sacrifices but Percy was almost completely sure that was a lie. Truthfully you were sitting up on the roof of the Aphrodite cabin, enjoying the peace and quiet of the camp when no one else was around.

They were about to give up, Percy trying to find the right words to let Beckendorf down easy, when they saw Luke. Luke, with his brooding eyes and his cigarette, sitting on his own at the bonfire with headphones connected to a mortal mp3 player. Luke, who had never quite been the same since he returned from his quest — rumours swirling about the horrors he’d faced that he refused to speak on.

“I think we’ve found our man.”

It was easy to convince Ethan to get on board, he was so overconfident in himself and his looks he would never suspect that Percy or Beckendorf had any ulterior motives. It was equally enjoyable to watch Ethan try and approach Luke to get the plan in motion. Percy and Beckendorf were sitting with Percy’s friends on the beach the very first time Ethan spoke to Luke. He was all macho confidence, still trying to play the tough guy. Luke looked up at him from his place sitting on a rock, barely moving his head to give him any attention. The moment of eye contact meant Ethan knew Luke had seen him speaking, and the abrupt walking away communicated his absolute lack of interest. It took a gargantuan effort from Percy not to burst out laughing then and there.

The second conversation went a bit smoother. Ethan had a metaphorical tail between his legs, temporarily giving up his ego to be the smaller person in the conversation. That got Luke’s attention, having known Ethan and his antics for years at that point. And then Ethan explained his plan. Luke couldn’t contain his laughter — a sound Camp Half-Blood was rarely graced with anymore.

“Yeah sure, Sparky,” He laughed, almost wheezing in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“Look,” Ethan stressed, “I can’t take out Silena until her sister starts dating — their Dad is super strict and has this rule—”

“Touching story, not my problem.” Luke moved to put his earbud back in when Ethan stopped him.

“Could it be your problem if I provided generous compensation?” Luke had forgotten Ethan’s mother was filthy rich. He looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re going to pay me to take out some chick? How much?” He asked, entirely disbelieving.

“Twenty bucks” They both looked down at you on the volleyball courts, spiking a ball into a girl’s stomach with so much force she keeled over on the ground. You had the decency to look mildly apologetic while the opposing team glared at you.

“Fine. Thirty.”

“Let’s see,” Luke smiled something devious. “If I’m taking her out it means leaving camp. That’s a lot of risk I’m pursuing for you, plus the costs of taking to her somewhere — the movies maybe. And you know inflation lately, let’s say seventy-five bucks.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, burnout.”

“Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal, Fabio,” Luke countered, knowing he had the upper hand. He had nothing to lose. Reluctantly, Ethan forked out a fifty. All that was left was for Luke to get you to go out with him, how hard could that be?

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Did you just kiss me?

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: When Bucky comes back from a mission, really late, his unofficial girl tells him what she thinks...

Warning: Smut/ unprotected sex (wrap it up)/ kinda angry sex/ switch!Bucky/ switch! Reader/ teasing/ car sex/ p in v/ riding/ slight anger/

Word count: 1.5k

His team jumped out of the truck they borrowed from the farmer; he just came back from a 6-day unplanned trip to Scotland. Right now, he just wanted to see his girl. But when he entered interrogation room, she was there, handing coffee and drinks to the soldiers. When she saw him, she put the drink she had down, and walked up to him. ‘’It’ll just be a minute.’’ She said to his team. The guys were chuckling at the sight of Bucky following his girl like a dog. She walked into a storage closet and closed the door when he was in. ‘’Hello, darling’’ he said, grinning like an idiot. ‘’Don’t darling me! I’ve been worried sick; I can’t even look at you in the eyes! You crashed in Scotland, you called Buck, and the Corporal. But you couldn’t even call me!’’ she whispered yelled.

When Buck told her that his best friend was okay and he was in Scotland and that he was on the phone, she wanted to talk to him, but when the blonde passed her the phone, there was no one. He’d hung up. At first, she thought it was weird, but since he was in someone’s home, she thought that he had a time limit for the phone. But when the Corporal told her that he called him, saying he was coming back, she was fuming. How could he call him, and not her? After all, they were seeing each other for a while now, and she thought she was going to be one of the people he’d call.

‘’I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I didn’t want you to worry’’ he tried not to smile, but for a wicked reason, he was attracted by her anger. He thought she was hot when she was angry, and right now, she was the most attractive person for him. ‘’You didn’t want me to worry?! Okay, I’ll disappear for a week and call everyone on the base except you! Cause I don’t want you to worry about me, how would you feel? Certainly not calm and relaxed!’’ she raised her voice. He was smirking, God how he wanted to do things to her. ‘’John Egan you better wipe that grin off your face! I just wanted to know that you were okay, but no! He calls the Corporal; Buck and you talk about spooning with Curt! What am I, invisible!’’ she exclaims, talking with her hands. To Bucky’s pleasure, the way she moved her arms, made her breast move. ‘’And you’re looking at my tits. Are you fucking serious?! You’re lucky that we’re sleeping together because – ‘’ he cut her off by crashing his lips on hers. The kiss calms her down, she puts her arms behind his neck, to really feel close to him. When she realized what he was doing, she broke the kiss. He was still grinning, she truly wanted to choke him. ‘’Did you just kiss me to shut me up?’’ he didn’t let her talk this time. ‘’I’m really sorry, I didn’t know you were in the room when I called Buck. For the Corporal, I just wanted to tell him that me and the guys were coming back. The family only allowed me two phone call, and I had to talk to the Corporal. I’m sorry, you look very sexy when you’re mad at me’’ he says. She rolled her eyes, but still smiled. She couldn’t resist him. ‘’I’m happy you made it back, but is you pull another stunt like that, I swear you’re going to be jerking off for the rest of the war!’’ she warned. ‘’Nah, you love my dick too much’’ he replied. ‘’And you love spooning with Curt, now get your sexy ass at the interrogation before your team thinks were having sex.’’ She said, kissing him one last time.

When they got out of the closet, his team was waiting for him. She looked at the men with a serious look. ‘’Immatures’’ she mumbled. Bucky was smirking, not helping his team to calm their dirty mind. She went back behind her stand and fake smiled to the team. God, he loved her, and he loved teasing her. But right now, the last thing he wanted to go in the interrogation.

When he got out, he stopped at her stand. The interrogation was over, and he needed her. She was packing her things. ‘’Darling let’s get out of here’’ he said, taking her hand. ‘’Bucky, I have to clean up.’’ She protested. He looked at Helen, and she understood. ‘’I’ll do it.’’ She gently said. ‘’And you’re exploiting the others! I swear – ‘’ he gently, but with strength pulled her outside. ‘’Thank you, Helen!’’ Bucky said, while walking with his girl outside. ‘’Where are you bringing me?’’ she asked, a little bit annoyed. ‘’Somewhere where I can fuck this attitude out of you’’ he boldly said. She was speechless. During the hole drive, she stayed silent, the information still making its way to her brain. When he stopped the Jeep, they were in the middle of nowhere, they were alone. ‘’Bucky, where the hell are we?’’ she asked. ‘’Doesn’t matter, come here.’’ He said, patting his lap. She thought about protesting, but she abandoned the idea when she remembered that she didn’t have sex for a week, and she needed it. Before sitting on lap, she untied her skirt, so it would be easy for her to move. ‘’Just so you know, I’m still pissed at you’’ she said, not letting him reply. She straddled his lap, and she kissed him. Her hips started moving, she needed him. No foreplay, she was already wet for him. The way he kissed her, it made her think about him in ways that are illegal. And she was horny, so the smallest touch made her wet.

‘’Someone’s eager’’ he teased. She moved her hips forward, so that she could feel his hard cock. ‘’What was that? Cause you’re the one getting hard when I’m yelling at you, Major. ‘’ she teased him back. He was about to reply, but she slowly rolled her hips, now touching his dick, it was too much for him. She kissed his neck, being careful to not give him a hickey. ‘’Careful darling’’ he warned. Her hands found his belt, but he stopped her. She was frustrated, she craved him. ‘’Bucky, I swear if you don’t fuck me I the next 3 minutes, I’m gonna go find Lieutenant Dye, after all, he takes all of your girls, he’s probably good in – ‘’ he cut her off by taking her chin with his hand. ‘’Yeah, you want to go see Dye. Can he make you scream like I do?’’ she shook her head. ‘’That’s what I thought, now take off your panties, or I’ll rip them off!’’ he ordered. He was dominating in bed, but angry sex was something they didn’t have often. She took off her panties and put them in his pocket. He brought her closer to him so he could kiss her. They were kissing, but it was rough. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit him. When they stopped, his lip was swollen. His pants were down, just enough to free his dick from his boxer. She positioned herself on top of him. She sunk down on him, making them moan in pleasure. The grip he had on her hips tighten, she would have marks on her. He felt her walls clench around his dick. He guided her hips as she begun to roll them. The rhythm was desperate, they needed the other and weren’t gonna wait forever. She was moaning and biting her lips. He was moaning too, but he tried not to, because he wanted to be in control. Even if it was an illusion of control, Bucky wanted it. They kissed again, their tongue fighting for dominance. ‘’ Bucky, I’m close’’ she whimpered. ‘’Who’s making you feel this good? Uh, is it Dye?’’ he taunted. ‘’You make me feel good. You, only you’’ she moaned. ‘’That’s right, you’re mine, the only dick that gets to fuck you is mine. You understand, you’re mine!’’ he growled. With that, her orgasm came crashing down on her body. Her back arched as she moaned his name. Her walls were clenching so hard around him, causing his own orgasm. ‘’Shit’’ he breathed out, with a raspy voice.

After they recovered from the sex they just had, they both started to giggle. ‘’I’m truly sorry for not calling you’’ he said, looking at her. ‘’It’s okay, I’m sorry for overreacting’’ she replied. ‘’You did not overreact, I should’ve called’’ he said, putting his hands on hers. ‘’And I’m truly relived that you made it back.’’ She whispered, loud enough for him to hear it. He smiled to her. They might pretend to hate each other, but deep down, they both care. And they care too much.

[artdcnaldson]

deer!reader is actually so important to me………………………

also can’t stop thinking about like. art and patrick making you hold your bladder……………. sorry to the anon who was anti piss

Sighhh puppy reader 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

When Patrick started plying you with water, you should’ve known he had less than innocent intentions. Because now you’re squirming where he holds you in his lap, whining and grinding the heel of your palm against your pussy like it might help you stave off the desperate need to go.

“Hold it,” Patrick says, his expression full of amusement. “Only bad puppies piss inside. I’ll rub your nose in it, I swear to god.” He knows you’ll safeword if you actually reach your limit, that if you weren’t into it you’d tell him to fuck off.

But you liked it— you liked his control over you, over all of you. When you can drink, when you can cum, when you can pee. Your legs are crossed, squeezed tight as you fight the desperate urge to let go. How long had it been since you told him you needed to pee, an hour? More?

He’s hard from all of your squirming, cock pressing against your ass, groaning against the shell of your ear. He’d stripped you down so you were only wearing your panties, pristine white cotton that just made things worse.

His hand splays across your stomach, presses just above your pelvis. You whimper, legs kicking out. “I’m just giving my puppy a belly rub,” he coos, all condescending. “Lay there and take it like a good girl.”

You whine as he applies more pressure, as you feel your body fighting against the need to empty your bladder. He paws at your tits, groping, pulling and pinching at your nipples until you moan, until your body relaxes. Only for a moment.

It’s all it takes for a small gush to spill from you, wetting the front of your panties. It’s perfect— euphoric even— that feeling of release after wanting and wanting. You let out a moan before you find the wherewithal to clench your pelvic floor, to fight the urge to just let go.

Patrick groans as he feels your piss soak his lap, hot and slick. “Dirty fuckin’ mutt,” he mutters against the shell of your ear. “Making a mess. I trained you better than that.” Hot tears slip from your cheeks as he presses firm on your pelvis, as you feel your urge to empty your bladder grow. “C’mon, puppy. Make a mess.”

You moan pathetically as you finally relax, finally release. Your head falls back as you feel your thighs grow slick, as your panties soak and cling hot to your skin. You pant weakly once you’ve finished, thighs trembling with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Patrick pushes you off his lap and into the floor, grabs you by your hair and shoves your face into his lap. “Told you I’d fucking rub your nose in it” he pulls down his boxers, soaked in your piss, and you take him into your mouth immediately. “That’s it— be a good fuckin’ puppy and clean up your mess.”

He tastes bitter on your tongue, but you don’t care. You let him bully his way into your throat, use your mouth like a fleshlight. He shoves your head down, jostles you by your hair. Your nose is buried in his pubes, filled with his musk and the scent of urine.

“That’s it. Filthy fuckin’ bitch.” You drool and gag, it only makes it hotter for him. He wants you dirty, he wants you debased. Fuck it, you want it too.

When he cums, it’s sudden— hot ropes painted directly against the back of your throat. You swallow obediently, let him pull you off by your hair. He’s panting, smiling wide like he’s pleased with himself.

“Good dog.”

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable Part IX Teaser

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

─── ⋅ ��� ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her. 

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day. 

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice. 

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare. 

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!” 

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!” 

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy. 

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?” 

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her. 

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together. 

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around. 

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms. 

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.” 

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.” 

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.” 

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.” 

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked. 

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time. 

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out.

[codfanficedits]

The Silent Treatment.

Pairing:

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Wordcount: 3695| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, mommy issues, communication, mention of a finger in an ass, angst with no comfort.

A/N: No alternative endings for this one, life's a bitch and if I have to suffer so have you <3 also maybe thinking about taking request, idk.

There were three rules in your relationship with Simon.

One – NEVER eat leftovers that aren’t yours.

Two – Bending over is NOT an invitation to poke someone’s ass.

Three – Never go to a mission while still in an argument.  

Rule number one was an easy one. You’d gotten fed up with him eating your leftovers. You’d spent the whole day dreaming about the leftover pasta carbonara only to be met with an empty plate when you came home. An innocent look on his face when you scolded him. “I was hungry.” He pouted. “If your name isn’t on it, it isn’t yours!” You scolded him.

Simon would just put a post it with his name on your leftovers. A cocky grin on his face whenever you called him out on it. “Whaddya mean lovie? It clearly says my name.” In the beginning you wanted to wipe that cocky grin of his face, but over time you found yourself cooking a little extra, just so there would always be a portion of leftovers for Simon. In return you would just keep the good leftovers in an old, empty tub of butter. Your little secret and he didn’t need to know.

Rule number two was brought to life when Simon was finally fed up with you trying to poke his ass every goddamn time he bended over.

“It’s off limits!”

“But that’s not fair.” You protest. “My ass is not off limits for you.”

“You like it.”

“You won’t know it if you won’t try it.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind.”

“Just once.” And with those words you take a step closer, holding out your pointer finger.

“I swear to God, one more step and I’ll put you up for sale on Facebook Marketplace.”

A loud exaggerated gasp leaves you while you lower your hand. “You would never!”

“Correct.” A twinkle in his brown eyes. “I would have to pay people to even be interested in picking you up.”

“Simon!”

You’re met with two arms around you and a million soft kisses on your cheek, forehead, neck. “I would never do such a thing.” He mutters into your ear. “I like my money too much.”

It became a little inside joke. Every now and then he would take the most unflattering picture of you, his favourite was the one where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, your mouth open, snoring while a little bit of drool was on the side of your face. Simon would proudly show you the picture.

“This is the one I would put up with that Facebook Market place ad.” He would grin.

“Please do. Maybe some rich prince will pick me up.”

“Yeah if you count someone with a Burger King crown a prince.”

In return, when the two of you were watching tv, you’d point at some of the rich women you’d see on there.

“That would be me when some rich man responds to the ad you made about me.”

“Be sure to send me some allowance every now and then.”

“As if!” You scoff. “I’d be too busy being rich and pretty to think about sending you a tenner every month.”

It would always be met with a low, grumble, mixed in with a laugh. “You’re already pretty, lovie, pretty sure you can miss a tenner too already.”

But he would always, always pull you close to him and press a kiss onto your hair, and you were pretty sure you could hear him mutter the word “mine”.

Rule number three came to life after the first time the two of you had a big argument. While the two of you could communicate perfectly fine most of the time, every now and then it would escalate. He had a temper, you were so fucking stubborn and sometimes it just had to clash.

And this was the first time. The two of you had just moved in together, and with that came a lot of irritations. Both of you were used to living alone. You didn’t have to worry about people nagging you about your dirty sock scattered around the floor. Simon was used to putting his socks directly into the hamper when he took them off. In return, he could make the kitchen explode while cooking and was perfectly fine with leaving it like that for the night, your fingers would itch whenever the kitchen wasn’t spotless after dinner. But this was new for the both of you, and all of the sudden the two of you weren’t just soldiers, but two people, madly in love but both trying to be right on an argument that only needed compromises.

And it felt as if the world was coming to an end at the kitchen table, while the two of you were arguing and crying, eating of the last, sweet bite of your relationship.

Unfortunately a mission doesn’t stop for a little argument, so the argument had to be cut short. You’d be sent away for no longer than two weeks, and leaving tore your heart out, leaving it behind on the shoe rack for him to look at while you were away. You didn’t even know if you would be single or not when you would come back.

Inside your shared house, Simon would be sitting on the floor, gaze fixed on the door through which you left, hoping you’d come back through that door, tell him you love him, and that you would clean up your socks.

But you didn’t.

Instead he received the news that the communication was cut off between your squad and base. An unforeseen enemy ambush that no one had seen coming. And your socks on the floor no longer mattered to Simon, he promised himself he would never, ever complain about the socks scattered on the bathroom floor if that meant you would come home safe. Simon had never been a religious man, but he would find himself praying at your empty side of your bed every night he was home, begging all the Gods above that you would come home to him.

And you did.

He had been waiting for you the moment he got the news you and your squad had been found. Nervously pacing around, while he was Ghost out on the field, for you he was just Simon, and right now Simon needed you more than ever before. You had been gone for nearly a month now, and he could no longer care about your socks, or the way you would kick out your shoes. All he could care about was you, and having you.

You on the other hand, had no idea what you would come home to. Maybe he had left, maybe you would come home to an empty house with a lover long moved on. But that wasn’t the case, you were greeted by a large man, his hands instantly cupping your face, lips all over your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead as if his lips were trying to imprint your face in his mind.

After that, the two of you decided to never, ever leave on a mission again while still mad and that rule needed a little tweaking.

By the next big argument, months later, the both of you stayed up all night, trying to talk out the argument. The lack of sleep only fuelling the anger on both sides. It made you both irrational and unable to think in solutions. Eventually the both of you fell asleep, Simon sitting at the kitchen table, you had made your way to the couch, holding on to his hoodie out of spite. The next morning the two of you could in fact talk it out, without the crying, without raising your voice, without the cussing.

So eventually rule number three became really simple. Don’t go on a mission while you’re still in an argument. No matter the subject, no matter how angry one of you was. If someone had to leave for a mission, the argument was put on hold, almost always accompanied by some soft words.

“I’m still mad, but I love you, and we’ll find a solution when you’re back”

“You’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you, and we will work this out.”

“When you’re back, we will talk about it, but for now, all you need to know is that I love you.”

A kiss always followed afterwards, usually on a lips, a single time on the forehead.

Today the two of you were about to break rule three. The past few months had been hectic, to say the least. A lot of missions, birthdays, other obligations. Not enough sleep, not enough intimacy, not enough time for each other. It had placed a ticking bomb under your relationship with Simon. An argument waiting to happen. The little things that would usually just make you shake your head and go on with your day, suddenly became a big deal. The way he would leave the kitchen, the way he would drape his shirts over the armrest over the couch. How he would leave his razor in the shower, always next to your shampoo. Speaking of it, you were certain he was using your shampoo, despite you asking him not to. Multiple times and he never fucking listens.

On the other hand, Simon was getting annoyed by you more and more, the way you would leave your socks on the bathroom floor, how you would leave a door open if you had been in that room. And you always left the fucking light on in the bathroom, no matter how often he would tell you to be mindful of it.

So there you were, walking into your kitchen after he had come home after a long, tiring mission. You had just come home from a day full of meetings and preparations for your upcoming mission.

Your whole kitchen a goddamn mess, who the fucks needs two pans, a cutting board, three plates and a fork, a knife AND a spoon for a portion of scrambled eggs anyway? But you try to let it go, you try counting to ten, you try to ignore the eggshells on the stove, the ketchup on the counter, you try to ignore it all.

Then he barges in, a pair of your socks in his hands, while he looks you in the eyes, using his foot to open the bin, tossing your socks in there.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“I’m sick and tired of finding your fucking socks everywhere.”

“Oh so you can throw away my socks, but throwing out eggshells while you’re cooking is too much to fucking ask?”

“I was going to do it after my nap.”

“Sure you were.” An eyeroll from you followed.

“Don’t give me that fucking attitude lovie.”

“Attitude?” You narrow your eyes.

“Attitude. All I want is some fucking peace and quiet and all you’re doing is fucking nagging.”

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would just clean this fucking kitchen! Other people want to live and cook here too.”

You can see him press his lips together, a sign that the temper in him is rising, but you don’t care, you can feel your own anger building up and it needs to get out.

“Well, other people would like to go to the fucking bathroom without having to cross a fucking path of dirty, filthy fucking socks!”

“They’re just fucking socks, what is your big fucking deal?”

“My big fucking deal is that little miss perfect over here is nagging like a fucking bitch, while I’m following her around cleaning up her fucking socks, closing fucking doors behind her fucking ass. You can’t even turn of the fucking light after you’ve been in a room and you’re whining about the fucking kitchen!” His voice is raising with every word that comes out of his mouth.

But you were raised by a woman couldn’t love herself, so you don’t back down, instead you get in his face, your tone and volume matching his. “Because this kitchen is fucking disgusting Simon! How the fuck could the army recruit someone so fucking filthy?” Bringing in his career was a low blow. “How fucking hard is it to clean the goddamn ketchup if you spill it?”

His hands form two fists, clenched while they hang beside his body.

“Do not.” His voice is a hiss. “Bring my fucking work into this.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you fucking say Simon.” You turn around as you spit out your words.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Out of this fucking swinery of a kitchen.”

“We’re not done talking.”

“What else is there to fucking say? You’re a fucking pig and I am the problem apparently.” Another turn to face him again.

“You know, when you act like this, you’re just your mother.”

Oh, your mother. The woman who was your first friend and your first enemy. The woman who had taught you that your worth was what men thought of you, while slut shaming you in the same sentence. The woman who never loved you how you needed her to. The day she called you ugly wasn’t the day you stopped loving her, but the day you stopped loving yourself, and you had told him. You had cried in his arms about your fucked up relationship with your mother, you had cried about what you had wanted her to be, but what she never could be for you.

“If I’m my mother, then you’re your fat-“ He cuts you off.

“Don’t fucking go there.”

“Why not? You can compare me to my fucking mother. My MOTHER out of all people!” It’s your turn to raise your voice at him.

“It’s different.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite Simon.”

“I’m the hypocrite? I can’t even come home without you nagging on my fucking ass about this fucking kitchen while you leave a trail of your fucking mess throughout the whole fucking house.”

“Oh well, I’m sorry for not wanting fucking eggshells on my stove, or your fucking shirts all over the couch. Or your FUCKING razor next to MY fucking shampoo!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oh don’t fucking act all innocent now, Simon. I’ve told you plenty of times to keep your hands of my fucking shampoo. That shit is fucking expensive.”

“So I don’t deserve nice, expensive things?”

His comment makes your blood boil. “Stop trying to be the fucking victim.”

“The fucking victim? I can’t even use some nice smelling shampoo in my own fucking house without it being used against me.”

“Oh my God! You could’ve bought your own fucking shampoo. But noo, you always have to take my fucking things. Not even my fucking leftovers are safe from you!”

“Are you still upset because I ate some leftovers?”

“Yes!”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“You’re a fucking leech.”

“A leech?” His fists turning white at your comment.

“A fucking leech. Feeding off others like a fucking parasite.”

“It would be a very good idea if you learned how to shut up, lovie.” The last word didn’t even sound as a pet name anymore.

“Oh I’ll fucking shut up.”

“Finally some fucking peace around here.”

You press your lips together, not making another sound. If he wants some fucking peace he can get it. You turn around to leave the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Without looking at him you point at the whiteboard, the date of the mission you had to go on today circled with a red marker.

“Be sure to pack some extra socks so you can litter the fucking battlefield.” He shouts at you as you walk off to pack your bag.

Never break rule number three.

You’re angry when you pack your bag, stomping around, making sure he hears how pissed off he has made you. You even want to take your stupid fucking shampoo with you, but you decide against it, it would be too much of a hassle.

You go downstairs again with your packed bag, and the two of you make eye contact. But neither of you says a thing. Neither of you say the words you had promised each other to always say before a mission.

You turn around while his eyes look back at the tv again, and you make sure to slam the door a little too hard while you leave on your mission.

Turns out all Simon needed was a good nap, some food, a shower and some more sleep. When he wakes up from his little nap and the sky outside is already dark, he realises how much he misses you, how he didn’t tell you he loved you when you went away. He lets out a sigh when he gets to the bathroom, your socks still on the floor, and with a small huff he bends over to pick them up, his hand automatically covering his ass, a force of habit to make sure you don’t poke him while he is bending over. A soft sigh leaving his lips when he realises you’re not there.

For the first time since the two of you got together, your side of the bed felt extra cold, extra empty, and he found himself on his knees again, praying to the heavens you would be home quick, so he could tell you he loved you, and so the two of you could have an actual conversation about the things that had been bothering the two of you.

Simon lets out a soft groan when he sees the kitchen, you had been right, it looked like an active warzone in there. Maybe he should learn to clean up the kitchen after cooking. He’s a grown man for fuck sake.

He rolls up his sleeves, puts on some music and it’s time to clean that goddamned kitchen. And while he is cleaning his thoughts wandered to you, how hurt you looked when he compared you to your mother, and a jolt of guilt shoots through him. It had been unfair to compare you to your mother. You were nothing like her, and when you would be back he would make sure to tell you that.

He's sweaty and Simon isn’t sure how it happened, but he got eggshells in his hair, but the kitchen is clean, and he intends to keep it that way. With a light spring in his step he makes his way to the shower. He automatically reaches for your shampoo, he just loves how your hair smells when you’re laying on his chest, or when he is your weighed blanket and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Washing his hair with your shampoo reminds him of you during the day. Simon unscrews the cap, bringing the bottle to his nose and he closes his eyes, the steam and the scent of your shampoo give him the illusion that you’re with him again, and when he opens his eyes he feels empty when you’re not there.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

When he lays in bed at night, and you’re not there to hold, he feels lonely, for the first time since forever, you had always feel like home, and now his home was gone. Simon keeps reaching out for you, only to be met by the cold feeling of your empty pillow. The scrolls past the pictures he has from you, the ones he had always threatened to put in a Facebook marketplace ad, and they bring a smile to his face. He remembers the first time he gave you the playful threat and how he had to make sure to smother you in kisses in case you were angry at him. But you weren’t, you had always been a saint and today he had let his anger take control.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

But when you finally return and he gets the chance to tell you that he loves you, the words get stuck in his throat. Rule number three had been broken and he wasn’t sure how to continue from there. Eventually he finds the courage to speak to you again.

“I love you.” The words are simple, yet raw. But you’re not done being silent, after all, he wished for some peace and now he was getting it.

And so the minutes pass, the hours pass, the days pass, but your silent treatment doesn’t end, you’re a stubborn one, and he knows it.

But he has to speak to you, it is the least he could do, but it’s hard to speak to you when he knows you won’t say a thing back.

“I should’ve hugged you tighter the last time I saw you. I just miss you, in a quite simple, desperate, human way.” The words are raw again, as if they are ripped from the very core of his human being. Again there is no answer from you, and it rips his heart out. He just wishes the last thing you said to him were words of love, not words out of anger.

And now he is sitting next to you, a blanket around the both of you, while he finds the courage to speak to you. Simon’s gaze shifts from the flowers in front of him, to the stars in the sky.

“The stars will go out before I forget you.” His voice is soft, a whisper, the words are meant just for you.

He sighs when you stay silent, oh what he would give to hear your voice once again.

“You know, this is not how I had imagined life, lovie. I want to stay on the back porch, while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me back to bed.” His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence.

Simon rests his head against your tombstone. “This silent treatment has been going on for long enough, don’t you think, lovie?”

[sc0tters]

Enough is Enough | Sidney Crosby

summary: when you push Sidney to his limits, he decides to teach you a lesson.

trope: dads friend

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual scenes, p in v, oral (m receiving!), legal age gap (reader is in college!), degradation, fingering, swearing.

word count: 2.49k

authors note: I’m gonna start this off with saying that the reader x dad friend trope is not one that everyone will like so if you don’t, don’t read it! oh and @hischierhaze should seriously like never leave me unattended ever again, cause this was a lot. To find the rest of the cellly you can see the masterlist here!

This was meant to be the summer of rehabilitation for you.

Your dad wanted you to recover after a year at university that almost landed you in jail on more than one occasion. As he was at his wits end with you lashing out.

Sidney was meant to be someone who could talk some sense into you, but as he stayed up waiting for a fourth night in a row for you to return with not even a word or a heads up to where you were. He realised he was on the end of a losing battle.

Before he’d just remind you to tell him about where you went but tonight as his anger mixed with the whiskey on his tongue Sidney saw your shorts and crop top and it caused him to lose it “where have you been kid?” He asked turning on the light in the living room as you looked like a deer in headlights “out Sid.” It was the same answer you gave him each time “some of the guys wanted to go get drinks.” You explained with a shrug moving to push past him.

Sidney stopped you as he wrapped his hand around your arm “we aren’t done here y/n.” The hockey player shook his head as he looked down at you “you either tell me where you are going or you don’t go out at all.” His voice was strict reminding you about his angry side.

Yet instead you found it amusing as you laughed “you gonna ground me or something?” You smiled rolling your eyes causing his grip around your arm to tighten “really should when you act and dress like this.” His free hands fingers dragged over the end of your shirt.

It made you frown “like what Sid?” You pressed his buttons as you pulled away from him “see you thought of something so say it.” Your arms crossed as you tilted your hips to the side.

Sidney pushed his hand through his hair as his nostrils flared “god you are such a wimp.” You spat shaking your head as he stood in silence watching as you walked to the stairs “you’re acting like a slut okay!” Sidney groaned honestly deciding that you were the reason why he decided not to have kids.

As you both soaked in the reality of what he had said “y/n wa-” Sidney tried to get himself out of the hole he had fallen into you were too fast running up the stairs to then shut your bedroom door with a slam “I’ll show him what a fucking slut is.” You mumbled looking at yourself in the mirror one last time with a smirk on your face.

Over the next few days that was exactly what you did. Sidney knew you were doing it to get under his skin as he watched your outfits grow tighter and shorter as your behaviour grew more present. You were now flirting with guys in front of his face, from the man in the grocery store to the neighbours son. What killed him was how he was forced to bite his tongue.

But when you eventually walked out of your room in this yellow bikini and nothing more than a baseball jersey that you left unbuttoned. Sidney didn’t think he had much more that he could take until he realised an important factor, that bikini top didn’t have cups. So as you walked into the kitchen after tanning outside Sidney knew he had to take defeat “so could you?” You asked waiting for his answer.

Sidney felt his cheeks turn warm as he shook his head “can you repeat that f’me?” He asked realising that he had missed what you said “asked if you could put some sun screen on my back before I go back out?” You repeated yourself as you sucked at the popsicle between your lips.

He nodded looking away as his pants strangely grew tight “y-yeah sure.” Sidney stammered as the first place he looked ended up being your breasts causing you to smirk “they look good in this one don’t they?” You brought your hands brush down your waist.

It made Sidney cough “I saw you staring at them, there’s no need to be ashamed.” You cooed stepping closer to him “we shouldn’t.” His voice was coarse as he tried to step away from you.

But the hockey player stood against the counter now trapped “all I’m saying is that you do what you want and touch them.” You used your fingers to trace over your nipples that were clear under your top “they are just begging for you.” You knew you were playing with fire as your teeth caught your lower lip between them.

Sidney felt himself grunt “my dad said he wanted you to help me out after all.” Your voice was soft as you used your fathers words “you’re gonna get me into so much fucking trouble.” The hockey player groaned nervously lifting his hand “there you go.” You cooed as you helped bring his hand to cup the one side of your bikini.

He loved feeling how his large hand was able to fit your entire breast in it “fuck baby.” The hockey player watched his thumb drag over the aching nub “need more Sid.” You whined placing your hand on top of his.

The hockey player nodded sucking at his teeth “what would your dad say if he saw you begging like this?” It stroked his ego as he brought his other hand up to repeat his actions on your other nipple as well “happy I’m not in trouble.” You found the situation amusing as you smiled “oh but you are baby.” Before you could question what Sidney meant he spun you around and pressed your chest against the kitchen counter.

It made you gasp as his hand kept your torso from pushing up “you think you could get away wearing this?” The hockey player used his opposite hand to hook under the waistband of the panties letting it snap against your skin “answer the question.” He snapped making you whimper “no Sid.” You shook your head struggling to think of where you could put your hands as Sidney moved to stand behind you.

He loved his angle seeing how vulnerable you were in front of him “wanted to piss you off.” You explained in a soft tone trying to stop him from hearing you “and you still think I should make you feel good?” Sidney laughed at your naivety “I can be good!” You nodded excitedly as you agreed “we will see about that.” Sidney mumbled sucking at the lobe of your ear.

It should have made you hang your head in shame how you pushed your ass against his crotch “the last few days have been hell.” He grunted squeezing the skin of your ass before he slapped it “what are you gonna do about it?” You gasped feeling him massage the previously abused skin.

Sidney felt his cock grow even harder as he pulled you back up so you could look at him “gonna finally shut this mouth up.” His hand pushed you to the ground as you dropped to your knees.

Your mouth watered as you watched him undo the strings of his shorts before he hooked his fingers into the waist pushing them to the ground to reveal his cock that stretched out the front of his boxers “look at you all excited.” The hockey player smirked as he watched you bring your hands up to trace your fingers around his boner “don’t tease me baby or else I’ll leave you looking all desperate on the floor.” His words made you whimper as you finally did what he wanted and revealed his cock as his boxers follow the same way his shorts did to the floor.

You knew Sidney would have been big but as you licked the swollen tip of his cock you began to wonder if you could take all of him “thin ice y/n.” His voice grew angry as he stared you down. It made you nice as you wrapped your lips around his cock forcing as much of his length into your mouth.

Sidney groaned feeling your tongue against the bottom of his cock “your mouth is so good.” He muttered watching your head begin to bob “you’re taking me to so well.” The boy cooed bringing his hands to your hair making a makeshift ponytail.

It helped him guide your movements forcing you to take more of him “fuck.” Sidney whined as you swirled his cock in your mouth and your throat constricted around the tip of his cock as you took all of him.

He felt his eyes roll back as you gagged “Sid,” your voice was muffled as your fingers slid down your stomach and into your bikini bottoms so you could tease your clit.

As Sidney began fucking your throat he felt himself grow dazed “looking so pretty down there.” The boy dragged his fingers through your hair to your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes “finally being a good girl f’me.” Just as the hockey player said that you mewled at the feeling of your fingers against your clit.

It made Sidney think you craved praise but instead when he saw your body shifting over nothing it made him pull you up by your chin “you really are a naughty girl.” The hockey player sighed shaking his head as he pressed his hand against your slick bottoms.

Before you could attempt to apologise Sidney kissed your lips as he picked you up finally setting you onto the counter as you looked at him. It felt suffocating as his tongue slid into your mouth not caring as he could taste some of his salty precum on your tongue “gonna fuck you like the slut that you are.” His hand lay a smack to your ass causing you to jump as you nodded.

Anticipation filled your veins as he peppered kisses down your neck whilst he undid the strings on your bottoms “up.” He offered causing you to force your hips upward so he could move your bottoms away.

His cock stood dangerously close to your cunt as he pulled you to the edge of the counter “you want this baby?” Sidney asked using the tip to tease your clit “fuck yes.” You nodded as he finally decided that teasing you was now too much for him.

You gasped as Sidney bottomed you out, not taking the time to let you adjust “god.” You groaned as your eyes screwed shut “it’s just me y/n.” The hockey player placed his hands on your hips as your legs locked around his waist.

Feeling nice Sidney stopped giving you the moment to let your cunt stretch around his cock “need you to move.” You forced the words out as you tapped his side now feeling him bottom you out “knew this cunt would be just as good as your mouth.” The hockey player kissed your lips as he caught your lower lip between his teeth eating a whine from you.

His thrusts began to quicken as he craved the sound of your moans “all yours.” You moaned pecking his lips “you realised being a slut ain’t no fun now?” Sidney laughed as you cupped your breasts trying to bring yourself more pleasure.

You fidgeted at the bikini material as he shook his head “slut f’you.” You whined as his hands replaced yours “let’s get this off.” Sidney grew irritated as he eventually ended up ripping the fabric apart “Sid!” You scoffed seeing your top now sat in two pieces.

His nose brushed over yours “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs more if you’ll let me rip them like that.” The kitchen felt hot as the windows were open meaning that anyone who walked past would have heard the acts that were going on in there. But somehow that made you feel so powerful “can rip ‘em all.” You nodded tugging your fingers through his curls when he lowered his lips to your nipples.

Sidney swirled his tongue around your sensitive buds making you clench around his cock “you liking this baby?” He locked his eyes with yours as his teeth grazed your nipple when your phone began to ring from the side of the counter.

It made you look with wide eyes “i-it’s my dad.” You croaked making his cock throb “answer it doll.” Sidney used every pet name in his arsenal as you remained frozen “answer or I stop.” His warning was enough to make you reach over to grab your phone.

On the other side you hear your dad breathing as you answered “hey princess how are you?” The cheeriness in his voice made you feel sick as you gripped at your phone “I’m good daddy.” The last word was moaned followed by a cough as you tried to cover yourself up.

Sidney smirked moving his lips from your nipple to your neck “look what do you want?” You complained tightening your legs around Sidney’s waist “just checking in, is Sid keeping you busy?” The hockey player let out a soft laugh as he heard the words “yeah gotta go!” You were quick to hang up as Sidney placed his fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take you long until you arched your back against the counter “you close?” Sidney asked pecking your lips “so close.” You nodded biting your lip as you went quiet “if you want to come you’re going to have to apologise.” The hockey player warned making you nod.

Skin slapping echoed through your mind “didn’t mean to be a bad girl Sid.” You cried as your skin felt hot even with the marble beneath you “promise to be your good girl forever.” The claim was bold but in that moment you planned on keeping your side of it “let me ruin this pussy for all of those college kids back home.” You moaned at his possessive tone.

All you could do was nod “it’s all yours Sid.” That sent him over the edge “milk my cock baby when you fucking come.” His order made you gasp in pleasure.

Your legs shook as incoherent whines came from your lips as you come “fuck!” You cried as you felt Sidney come shortly after you did.

His hand pressed against the counter next to you to make sure that he didn’t collapse “there you go pretty girl.” As the hockey player let his cock slide out of your soaked cunt it was quickly replaced with his fingers that pushed both of your releases back into your core “surely you didn’t think I’d let you misbehave that easily now did you?” Sidney had a devilish smirk as he began to finger you.

You were in for a long day.

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[smooth-perceval]

Always wanting more.

Lando Norris x Leclerc!Reader

PART ONE

Summary: Charles sister was strictly off limits- Lando and reader find themselves in a tricky situation when lusting turns to loving.

Warnings: 18+ no smut but I will consider smutty scenes. Swearing, angst, angry Charles, switched POVS, flirting. NO PROOF READ! Google translate- Eerrrr I think that’s all! 👀

Key: Y/N (Your Name) Y/E/C (Your eye colour)

Word count: 4791

A/N: I gotta thing for Lando at the moment- alsoooo I have been on holiday so I haven’t wrote a single thing, enjoy this though! There is a tag list!!

Lando’s POV

Y/N Leclerc… where do I begin?

We were introduced to each other I’d say 2 years ago… and truthfully I’m obsessed with her. I know when she walks into a room, I know when she is nervous, when she is happy, even sad. I know her.

And I want her.

Day in, day out.

Meeting her is when I finally understood addiction, she was my drug. My pill to keep me sane- I was well and truly addicted to her.

Unfortunately I can’t have her, Leclerc’s rules… I hate Leclerc.

The rule when we met was specifically look but never touch, well really it was-

—

“Norris, eyes off my fucking sister.” Charles shoved my shoulder, glaring at me. In my head I had thoughts of doing so, just not with my eyes.

Gulping my brows knitted together, and I was frantically shaking my head. “I wasn’t looking at her.”

“Really? Cause the drool on your chin says otherwise.” Folding his arms across his chest, he moved to stand in-front of me.

“Listen, and listen good. Stay away from my sister, she doesn’t need another driver in her life- believe me. And even so I definitely wouldn’t want her with anyone here. Got it?” Raising his eyebrows at me, I nodded my head slightly.

“So keep your wandering eyes to yourself.”

“Charlieee!” And as if on cue she skipped over happily… her Y/E/C eyes landing straight on me, and maybe it was in my mind but her smile widened.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, I’m so happy to finally meet you!” Aside from the obvious she was completely different from her brothers, she was more warm and welcoming- I froze when she moved in to hug me. Conflicted on whether or not to accept the hug and potentially be killed by her brother, or reject the hug and be killed by the look on her face after the rejection.

“Nice to meet you too I’m Lando.” Staring into Charles soul, I reciprocated the hug keeping my hands hoovering over her waist barely touching her. If I didn’t have my eyes so wide they would’ve rolled back into my head-

Her touch set me alight, her smell was sweet like candy floss at a funfair, she was squeezing herself against me- by god she felt perfect against me.

“Ahem.” Clearing his throat he raised his eyebrows at me once again, waking me from my trance that I call his sister.

“I better go- I got quali…” pulling away from her quickly, she stumbled back. “Oh right- I’ll let you both go.” Turning she smiled at Charles touching his arm like a motherly instinct. “Good luck Char” followed by two cheek kisses- she then turned back to me, her cheeks blushed red. “Good luck Lando.” Followed by a little wave she practically ran away, looking over her shoulder at me every so often that smile never faltering, them cheeks still shining red.

“Lando.” Shoving my shoulder again- my attention falling onto Charles who was shaking his head. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry-”

I really wasn’t.

—

I knew she had arrived on Charles boat, something about her aura caused the atmosphere to change, and I soon found myself trying to seek her out in the crowd full of people. Just a glimpse of her and I’d say it was a good party.

“Lando!” My heart pounded in my chest, her arms were thrown over my shoulders and tightly secured around my neck. God she smelt wonderful- why does she always smell so good?

Returning the hug keeping it short for any prying eyes she stood infront of me, shame on me for allowing my eyes to wander. She had on a beach cover up underneath was a bright orange bikini… McLaren orange-

What is she doing to me…

“I- er” pointing at just her in general trying to muster the courage to compliment her and not sound like an absolute weirdo.

“I like you- your bikini- your whole outfit! You-” I fucked it. Shaking my head I took a moments breath. “You look lovely.”

A shy grin plastered onto her face as she looked down at her outfit. “You think?” Her hands picked at her sleeve, subconsciously stepping closer to me.

“You always look lovely.” Now I’ve complimented her- I couldn’t stop I wanted to tell her every minute of every hour of every day for the rest of my life.

“Can we talk? Away from everyone here?”

Y/N POV

I’ve always liked Lando- before I even met him, sure I’d watch the race for my brothers but secretly when Lando’s face showed up on screen I felt giddy.

Maybe it was his sarcasm, or just the silly English boy in general- but I felt drawn to him.

When Charles finally introduced us, I felt like my life was complete, this boy knew I existed. For me that was more than enough.

But like most, absence makes the heart grow fonder- seeing him once I needed him again. We always want more. And I wanted him, I just couldn’t have him- he kept himself reserved and off limits.

It was only when I asked Charles why Lando always keeps me at arms length he finally told me about the little “threat” he gave to each driver. Seriously- the threat he gave wouldn’t even scare a fly.

Well long story short we got into a huge screaming match, and it ended with a simple.

“Keep away from them drivers Y/N- otherwise don’t speak to me ever again.”

And this time he meant it, unfortunately for him- I wasn’t running from Lando, I found myself always running at him. And I was going to get what I want…

—

Lando seemed nervous when we moved away from the crowds, indoors away from cameras, people- the world.

I took a seat watching him, he was on edge, before sitting down next to me. As always keeping distance. That annoyed me, and I found myself biting the bullet.

“Do you not like me?” Confusion was written on his face. “What?”

“I said do you not like me.” Shaking his head he shuffled the smallest bit closer. “Of course I like you! What made you think I didn’t?”

“Whenever I’m around you keep me 3feet away always. You reject every advance I make on you… it kind of all steers towards you not liking me…”

“I’ve got to keep away. Not that I want to.”

“Because of what Charles said?”

“Yeah…”

Studying his face, he looked conflicted. Like he was weighing his options out.

“I’m a grown woman Lan. I know what I’m doing.” His ears pricked at the sound of his nickname falling off my lips.

“He doesn’t get to tell me who I can and can’t like.” I felt myself getting more annoyed by the second, “I mean his not even your relative and his telling you what to do.” Standing back up in my frustrated manner. Lando copying my actions leaning against a nearby counter.

By god he looked good, he was just leaning there arms and legs crossed watching me- like I was some crazy woman. Crazy for him that’s for sure.

“He can’t stop me from having feelings- I want to feel something to you know.” Jabbing my palm against my own heart I stopped infront of him.

“Don’t you?” We switched places, myself now leant against the counter Lando now pacing the room. Brushing past each other, the electricity tingling through our finger tips as they just slightly touched.

“I just can’t go there with you…” a sigh left his lips, turning towards me. “His a friend… and friends don’t do that to each other.” I understood what he meant- I mean this is my brother, I get it. But I still wanted more.

“You’d do anything for your friends?” Nodding his head in response, I then straightened my back. “Am I your friend Lando?”

Once again he nodded his head, very slightly like he was scared of what’s coming. I was scared of what’s coming-

“Then kiss me.”

“What?!” His eyes widened as he took a step closer.

“Kiss me.” If I breathed any heavier our chest would touch his that close.

“Are you crazy?”

“About you? Yes.” If he wasn’t so close I would have missed the little smirk on his face.

“Y/N we can’t…”

“We can.”

Now whispering to each other, we wasn’t turning back, he had me trapped between the counter and himself, his arms were either side of my waist holding onto the edge of the counter behind me. “You said you’d do anything for your friends right?”

Our eyes were both dancing over one another- challenging the other to break first. “Just one kiss and I’ll let you go.”

“It won’t just be one kiss with us- we both know that-”

“One kiss and I promise to let you go.”

“One kiss?” Nodding my head a little in response. “One promise.”

Gulping he finally moved in- the kiss was heated right from the start. We both poured the pent up feelings for one another into that one kiss. It was a kiss to say, I like you but I got to let you go.

My hands found his cheeks, holding onto him like he was fragile glass, and his hands made their way off the counter gripping my hips tight before pulling me closer against his chest.

“Y/N?” The sound of Charles scared us both- Lando jumped back staring at me- our chest heaving, our hearts reaching out to each other. “Yeah?” Shouting back, my eyes trained on Lando.

“People are asking where you are.” The door rattled slightly- it was only then I realised Lando had thought ahead. Locking it behind him when he entered.

Lando’s hand reached out, touching my jaw, thumb grazing over my bottom lip. “I’ll be out soon- I felt a bit ill.” Gulping once again my body was on fire. “Want me to send Lorenzo down with some medicine?”

I don’t know what this boy is doing to me- but dancing his fingers down the side of my neck and collarbone while I’m trying to speak felt suffocating.

“No!” Snapping my head to the door. “I’ll be fine- just give me a few minutes.”

“Okay- just let us know if you need anything.” Waiting a few seconds I turned looking back at Lando.

“Okay that-” before I could finish my sentence his lips were back on mine pushing me back against the counter more demanding.

“I promised one.” Mumbling between kisses my hands found themselves snaking around his neck.

Pulling away he looked down at me, “I didn’t.” both catching our breaths. “Putain-” (fuck)

“Not here.” A cheeky smirk fell onto his face, his hands brushing up and down my sides. My fingers were tousling with his hair- both silent just relishing each other.“Meet me after the Dutch GP.” Whatever he said I agreed to- if he wanted me to stand on my head and put on trousers- yes. Always yes.

“Nobody can know about this-”

“What happened to Miss.Independent? Nobody rules her-”

“Charles swore to never speak to me again...” Chewing at my bottom lip I now felt guilty for what I had done. Stepping away from me like I burned him it was as quick as flicking on a switch- the mood changed, he scratched the back of his head. “Fuck…” and just like that I watched him start building them walls again- the walls that kept us separated for so long.

“This wasn’t a good idea…” mumbling he wiped his hands down his face before turning away from me.

“Now it’s not a good idea?” Furrowing my eyebrows at him I felt slightly hurt. “But it was a good idea when you pushed me against the counter for a second kiss-”

“Hey- you asked for the first”

“Because I thought we both wanted that-”

Moving back round to face me he shook his head. “Well I thought you wanted the second kiss-”

“I want all of your kisses.”

“You promised one-”

“And you broke that promise with the second.” He wasn’t winning this argument with me… “So why can’t there be a third, or a fourth?”

“I can’t do that to Charles, Y/N”

“I have more to lose than you do- his my brother. And I was willing to risk it…” boom right there he stabbed my heart.

The no response was more killing than having one. “I see…” nodding my head at him I straightened my back, “maybe I read the signs wrong- you don’t have someone pinned against a counter and telling them to meet you again if you didn’t want it to go further right…” shaking my head in disbelief I fixed my dress and hair before heading towards the door. “see you around I guess...”

My hand was opening the door slightly and I smiled to myself more in shock at his response. “I really hope not.”

—

Lando’s POV

I didn’t want to let her go truthfully… but I had to- no I didn’t care what them boys thought. They could hate my guts for liking their sister, I really did not care- it was more how they would treat her.

Charles was stubborn like most, and he would stick to his word of cutting her out his life all for me- and that alone makes me feel ill the thought of her willing to take such a risk for what could quite well not even work out…

So I had to let her go… and if she didn’t remind me of what she had to lose I may have grabbed her hand, took her in my arms and promised to keep us a forbidden secret- if the risk wasn’t so high for her. Just if.

What’s more worse- I tasted her lips twice and needed her more. More than before, now I needed to know what gets her whispering my nickname like she did moments prior- what gets her writhing, what makes her tick- I ached for it.

Maybe my words pushing her out the door was a mistake… and just maybe I could keep the promise of our secret…

I can’t… it’s just not fair on her-

“Lando?” My head snapped to the door, standing in the doorway was Arthur.

“You okay?” With a signature smile soon plastered on my face, I brushed past him hand clasping his shoulder.

“Never better leclerc.”

Yeah I really couldn’t do it to her.

—

1 week and 4 days had passed since we kissed, every single day I questioned wether what I did was right-

It was right. Don’t question yourself Lando.

It was finally time for the Dutch GP, you would think I’d be focused on the race, and whats ahead. But all I thought about was what I said to Y/N.

“Meet me after the Dutch GP”

And now I just wonder if I didn’t push her away- would she have met me? Something inside me said hell yeah she would have.

I can only wonder what would have happened between us…

Sighing I rubbed the sides of my temple- hoping to erase the thought of her from my mind.

Was she here today? Did she stay home? I mean she left the boat as soon as we parted, saying she still felt unwell. The look she gave me was sickening itself.

Lando fucking focus man.

—

Y/N POV

Did I want to be here? Yeah sure for my brothers. Did I want to see Lando? My heart said yes, my mind said no.

Standing at the back of Charles garage, fiddling with the Ferrari cap in my hand- sure I was nervous, if I bumped into Lando what would I say? Or would I run again?

"Hé, tu veux venir faire un tour dans les stands?" (Hey- wanna come for a walk down the pits?) Charles came into my view, and woke me from my daydreaming.

“bien sûr-” (Sure-) with a half hearted smile, I fell into step next to him.

“tu n'as pas l'air content...” (you don’t seem happy)

Glancing to Charles at my side I looked back ahead of me. “Qu'est-ce qui te fait dire ça?” (What makes you say that?)

“parce que je sais que tu ne le fais pas.” (Because I know you’re not.) Sighing I pulled the Ferrari cap onto my head. “je me demande juste quand ce sera mon tour” (Just wondering when it’ll be my turn)

“à ton tour pour quoi?” (Your turn for what?)

“à mon tour d'être aimé.” (My turn to be loved)

Charles stopped abruptly, myself copying him. “tu es aimé!” (You are loved!)

Tutting I shook my head at him. “par qui?” (By who?)

“Me, Maman, lorenzo, Arthur?” (Mum)

Smiling at him I leaned forward nudging his shoulder with my own.

“je sais que-” (I know that) we started walking again, soon finding ourselves outside a bright orange garage. “I want that toe curling kind of love-” sneaking a quick glance into the garage I see him there- headphones on looking at the screens ahead of him, notepad in hand and a pen pointing at the screens.

“ne me rend pas malade!” (Don’t make me be sick!) Charles gagged in a teasing way, causing me to genuinely smile over at him. “So annoying!” Shoving his head away gently, I turned back around walking with him back to the Ferrari garage. Both shoving and tripping each other on the way. “I’ll get you back Charlie. Just wait.” Declaring infront of the garage- our normal prank wars were just re-starting.

—

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, free practice being the normal, cars going round and round, pit stop practicing, cars in and out of pits. Yep all the normal.

I was tired, and couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel room- shower and sleep, just watching the cars circle round makes you exhausted- no idea how the drivers feel.

And it’s even luckier the hotel is very close by, mine and the boys rooms however. Weren’t.

Charles was at the end of the hall, turn left and then the third door on your right. Arthur was up another floor, and Lorenzo was back at home.

I gave both the boys quick kisses on the cheek before picking my night bag up and making my way to my room, fiddling with the card “key” in my hand. Turning it over itself repeatedly.

“Oh- hi…” kill me right now.

Looking up, a small smile on my face. “Hey- you okay?” It was passing conversation between me and Lando- or so I thought.

“Good as I can be.” Nodding my head in recognition to his response, I pushed my key against the scanner for the door to unlock. Only for it to flash red at me.

“How have you been?” Lando was a few feet behind me, watching as I nervously spammed the scanner. “Oh- Living the dream.” Cussing under my breath I slammed the card against the scanner, shoving the door with my arm. Yet it still blinked red.

Then I smelt his cologne- smelling even stronger now, his arm reached around from behind me- my body tensed up as I waited to see what stunt he was pulling.

Pressing his card against the scanner, it flashed green- with the same hand he pressed it against the door shoving it open a little. “Wrong door-”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “Merde…” (shit…)

Looking up at the door number, I looked over my shoulder- past Lando and at the door behind him. Shit indeed.

With an embarrassed smile, I moved around him scanning my card and opening the door. “I guess we are neighbours.”

“Seems that way.”

“You look good-”

Closing my eyes I took a moment before re opening them turning to face him.

“Goodnight Lando.” And with that I shut the door on him- he shut me out when I felt probably my most vulnerable- not everyday I tell a guy to kiss me.

Now it was my turn to shut him out- I can get over this silly crush if I just keep shutting him out.

That was more exhausting than the practice session.

—

Qualifying was something- not too great for Charles and Carlos, max on pole like always- and surprisingly Lando also. Not that I was really paying much attention of course- and not that I felt myself smiling slightly when I heard it across the tv.

Which soon faltered when I was watching myself on the screen, a camera directly on me.

“Y/N Leclerc is here in attendance today, although it’s not been a great day for both brothers- she still got a smile on her face!” Rolling my eyes at the camera my smile becoming wide again. I quickly turned away, occupying myself with anything- clearly getting camera shy.

Little did they know, a certain qualifier got me smiling like a goof. But they really didn’t need to know that.

Charles entered the garage, annoyed to say the least. And I stayed clear of him, only speaking to let him know I’m heading back early- seeing as he wanted the garage to stay back and discuss what’s wrong with the car.

When I got back to the hotel, I rushed to my room hoping to avoid a certain guy. Which I was successful at doing.

I showered in peace, got into some pyjamas and settled into bed. The aches in my body easing up each passing minute- I finally felt relaxed.

Until a knock at my door. With a loud groan, I rolled out of bed pulling the door open. “Charles, je viens littéralement d'envoyer un message-“ (Charles I literally just messaged-) pausing I looked up at the curly haired boy. “You’re not Charles.”

“Definitely not. I was wondering if he was with you?” Leaning against the door frame, he looked down at me, and I wasn’t stupid I see his eyes roaming up and down my body.

“No, I left him at the track.” Nodding his head at me he then straightened up. “I guess I’ll catch him later…”

“I guess so.” Slowly I started closing the door and he got the hint, moving back and turning to his own.

“Oh Lan-” quickly he spun his head looking at me over his shoulder. “Congratulations with your qualifying results…” if I wasn’t watching him so hard, I wouldn’t missed his cheeks turning a little red, and the dimple showing when the smile crept onto his face. We both then shut our doors at the same time, the conversation ending on a sweet note…

This crush wasn’t going away any time soon.

—

“Y/N!” Wincing I looked up at a very angry Charles stomping towards me.

“Merde-” (shit-) Stifling a laugh, I slid off the pit wall, ready to make my escape.

“MES CHEVEUX SONT ROUGES!” (I HAVE RED HAIR!)

Scrunching my nose up at him, I glanced at his hair. “I forgot I done that…” stepping away from him, looking behind me every so often making sure to avoid bumping into people.

“C'EST ROUGE!!” (IT’S RED!!)

Tugging at his own hair he crouched down to the floor, “ça à l'air bon...” (It looks good…)

“Nice hair leclerc.” Please not now-

“this your doing?” Looking up at Lando I nodded slightly. “You are brilliant.”

“Don’t!” Glaring at him from the floor was our red head Charles. “I’m not doing anything-” hands up in surrender Lando furrowed his brows. And while they tussle, I made my exit. Back to the comfort of the Ferrari garage.

Ready for the race… I’d say the red maybe good luck!

…but I definitely spoke too soon, and Charles made a rule we don’t discuss what happened today. So just like yesterday I ran back to my hotel room hiding away from the world. The world being Charles, Arthur and Lando.

After getting out the shower I dried off, pulling my underwear on. I started my skin prep and dried my hair off a little with the towel.

There it was, the rattle of my door. Grabbing the robe off the hook, I secured it around my waist. “I swear, if this is Charles I will throttle him.” Grumbling to myself I swung the door open ready to beat the crap out of Charles.

“Charles isn’t here.” Shutting the door on Lando’s face I turned to walk away, before the door knocked again.

With a loud huff I turned pulling it open again. “I just said-”

“Shut up.” Pushing me back into my room, his hands on either of my cheeks, like he was cradling my face. Kissing me with a hunger I didn’t know.

The door slammed shut from Lando kicking it, making me jump slightly, giving me the chance to pull away from him.

“What just happened-” sitting down on the bed behind me- not trusting in my legs to keep me up.

“I couldn’t do it.” Taking a seat in front of me on the mini sofa, he tugged at his own hair. “Can’t do what?”

“Stay away from you. I tried and I can’t.” Looking up at me, we both watched each other. “But you said-”

“I know what I said…”

It fell silent once again, tightening my robe and sitting up straighter, I cleared my throat. “Then what do you want?”

“You.”

“What about my brothers?” Raising my eyebrows at him, I only took notice of how close he got. “Nah, I don’t want them.” Rolling my eyes at him, my back slowly lowering against the bed. “You’re crazy.”

“About you.” Brushing my damp hair back he was now hovering above me. “That’s my line.” Why I was whispering I don’t know- but I was now letting the heart decide, and it decided that all is forgiven and I wanted him.

“Do you remember mine?” His brow quirked.

“Meet me after the Dutch GP?”

Humming he leaned down pressing a delicate kiss to my revealed collarbone.

“I’m glad you did.”

“You’re in my room.” Biting down on my bottom lip, I tugged at his hair gently.

“Let’s make it our room- at least for tonight.”

“Lando-” closing my eyes I fought with my heart- my hands pressed against his shoulders pushing him back slightly.

“I’m sorry-” mumbling he looked down at the minimal space between our bodies. “Don’t apologise for this-”

His hand slid under the robe, grazing up my thigh delicately, eyes trained on me watching how I reacted. “Im not apologising for this.”

My body ached for him, his touch driving me insane. Rolling my hips slightly trying to push myself more against him- if that was even possible. Smiling at my reaction, he licked his bottom lip trying to contain his smile. “I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

“Not to sound too desperate- but can we talk about that- after you really appreciate me.” Quirking a brow at him- my sudden boldness being brought out by lust.

“With pleasure-” gripping onto my waist, he lifted me moving me up the bed resting more into the pillows. “Literally.”

“Please stop with the corniness.”

“I’ll try-” both laughing a little, we fell into each other, delicate kisses, and whispered sweet nothings.

—

When all was said and ‘done’- we laid in silence, the room lit from the bright moon. My head was against Lando’s shoulder, his arm tracing up and down my side.

We was both watching our hands, fingers dancing with one another’s. The silence in the room was comforting oddly enough. And when my hand finally grew tired, it fell against his chest, my head turning, hiding away into his neck.

“That was- amazing.” Sighing he picked my hand up placing a soft kiss against my palm, before turning on his side making us both face each other.

“You’re amazing.” Laughing a little I reached my hand further up brushing his hair back. I was studying his face, how even in this light you can see his flushed face and feel his somewhat damp skin.

“You’re so pretty.” Mumbling lowly, I didn’t realise the words slipped my mouth until I see the smile creep up on his face.

His arms wrapped around my body securely, a kiss pressed against my forehead. “Goodnight.” Smiling up at him I closed my eyes “goodnight lan.”

Laying there eyes closed, I listened to his heartbeat counting the beats like sleep.

“I think I love you…” sighing once again he squeezed me tight press in two more kissed to my forehead.

My heart was pounding my body was so warm- I can’t believe he just said that- is it weird I understand what he means.

Our little secret Norris- I’m needing more.

Masterlist

[lovelywritinglady]

Slutty Showers

Hisoka x fem!reader

18+

Smut, Shower sex, mentions of blood, established relationship, fem reader. Hisoka fucks you and then treats you right.

Third Person Pov

The sound of skin slapping together your moans were echoing against the shower walls. The warm water cascaded over your bodies as Hisokas cock was hitting your walls so good that it make your brain foggy. His hands were gripping your tits while is fingers were pinching your nipples hard. It stung but god it made you feel so good. His mouth was biting and sucking on the soft skin on your neck. He began sucking on the hickeys he’d given you the night before while he was pushing your body to its limits. The two of you had been going at it for a long time yet his pace never faltered. You swear this man his an incredible amount of stamina.

Suddenly you were being picked up and your back was pushed against the wall. His hands grabbed your legs and forced them around his waist, not like you were complaining. You then put both of your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his. It was a fiery kiss that sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. His tongue went inside you mouth which you let happen. His cock wasn’t inside you and you were aching without him. He knew this and you could feel him smirk against your mouth. After some more time of teasing you he thrusted himself into you which caused you to yelp with pleasure and pain. His pace quickened and you began moaning his name like a prayer while your hands began scratching his back. You knew he loved pain so you made sure that you scratched enough to make his back bleed. He began to moan loudly as well. His golden eyes met yours with a lustful and love full gaze. His hand came down and he started to rub my clit meaning he was holding you with one arm. You two kept this eye contact until you felt that familiar bubbling feeling and you could tell he was close too.

“Hisoka, I’m gonna cum” you moaned out

“Mmm good cum for me flower” he grunted

After a few more minutes you came hard on his cock. His name was moaned over and over again and your nails dug into his skin even harder than before. Then Hisoka came shooting his cum inside your walls while he was still thrusting inside you. You were on birth control so he knew you were okay with it. He thrusted inside you until his cock softened. At that point you had lost feeling in you legs. Hisoka turned the shower off and carried you out of the shower and put you on the counter.

He then grabbed your towel and started drying you off while giving your forehead a kiss. This was the Hisoka you knew. He was sweet to you and he didn’t say it often but you knew he loved you and you loved him too. He’s a very strange man, but he’s loyal to you which you thought wouldn’t happen when you two got together. But just by the way he’s looking at you know you know how much he cares for you.

After you were dry you took his towel which of course was pink and began drying him. His body looks like it was sculpted by the gods. Hisoka could tell you were admiring him because of how long you took to dry him. This made his ego get even worse than it already was. When you were done you reached up and pressed a long loving kiss on his lips and then looked into his eyes and smiled. He then picked you up once more and took you to your shared bed. The two of you cuddled while Hisoka talked about his abilities and how beautiful he thought you two were. Despite how rough he is, he always is sweet after the two of you have very hard sex. After a little while of Hisoka babbling you fell fast asleep. He noticed after a while and chuckled at your cute expression. He then gently kissed your cheek and looked at you before saying…

“I love you, my flower”

Thank you so much for reading!💜

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-L.W.L

[gemini-sensei]

i’m in such a miguel phase so i’ll send so many rn, but imagine miguel fighting with lawrence!reader because he thinks she’s too ‘clingy’ and the reason him and sam are no longer together. pls i love grovelling and men apologising, so him just trying to win her back

Oh as soon as he calls her "clingy", she's so fone with him. And if he mentions what happened with Sam and even hints that it's her fault, she explodes.

"Do not say shit like that because its bullshit!" she shouts at him, getting in his face. She isn't going to let him get away with this. "I was fine before you came along so if you think I need you oh so bad, you're dead wrong. I don't need you."

He takes it, trying to act all big and strong.

"I see why Sam broke up with your ass," she scoffs and walks away. All he can do is watch her go. "Godforbid I try to help you through it."

In the mere days following the blowout, Miguel realizes he fucked up. He's miserable without her around, thinking that they were just friends but maybe things were deeper than that and he didn't realize it until now... he's lost without her around. It's made worse when he's with Sensei Lawrence - he father - and she's not around. It's a slap to the face.

Especially since Johnny is no help at all. He doesn't understand what happened and thinks his daughter is overreacting, so his advice isn't helpful. Miguel knows it's unhelpful and blocks it out but acts like he's listening.

She's doing great. She doesn't give Miguel a second thought as she hangs out with her friends. He sees it too. It's like everywhere he goes, there's something or someone around to remind him that she really doesn't need him around to be happy. There was a time before Miguel and there can be a time after him in her life too, and she wants him to know it.

When he comes apologizing to her, he practically exhausts the term "I'm sorry" to its limit. But it's not enough.

She's about the slam the door on his face when he drops onto his knees and begs for her forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, I mean it, Reader. I don't know what I was talking about when I called you clingy and blamed you for my break up-" he doesn't even say Sam's name because it isn't about her anymore and he's realized that, "-please, just give me another chance. I know I messed up and I should have treated you better. I will treat you better. I swear. Just please, please, please let me prove it to you."

Reader stares at him, arms crossed over her chest. She isn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "I wanna hear you say I'm the best person you know and that you're wrong and I'm right."

"You're the best person I know, hands down. No one is better than you. No one." He stares up at her, still on his knees, big brown eyes hoping this is enough. "And you're always right and I was wrong. I was so wrong and I'm so sorry."

She groans. "God, Miggy, stop apologizing. You sound like a broken record!"

"So you forgive me?"

She glares at him, then smirks. "Maybe."

He'll have to do a little bit more proving it to her before she fully accepts his many, plentiful apologizes, but begging her was a nice start.

[just-an-elf-with-the-socks]

Not that long ago the LotR trilogy was rereleased in theaters for a limited time and I saw them multiple times, three of those being with @ath3alin who watched me take all of these Aralas notes throughout the movies (there’s nothing wrong with canon, it’s just really gay). So I’m gifting them to the internet, you’re welcome.

Fotr:

The scene where Aragorn is singing like a weirdo into space = it was a song that Legolas would sing to him when they were children, and then they would sing it together once Aragorn learned Elvish better. When Frodo asks what woman he sings of, it’s really Legolas, because he misses him

TT:

When the riders of Rohan surround them, the first thing Legolas does is reach for Aragorn so that’s going in a fic at some point

Legolas really just wanted his crush to look cool in literally every moment Aragorn did something he could have done in like two seconds

At least Legolas’ first instinct is to look at Aragorn every time something happens or every time he says something. Like,,this man might as well never be looking anywhere else

“Nobody cares for the woods anymore (That’ll probably be a Thranduil fic somehow, we’ll figure it out)”

I will say, it would be a fun headcanon to have Legolas feel the things the forest does; i.e. their pain, their joy, their sadness. And instead of being weird it’s actually really sweet and Aragorn does find it a bit adorable once he develops feelings for Legolas

Forest scene: Those fuckers are standing ridiculously close to each other. Honestly, I’d like to headcanon that Legolas specifically speaks to Aragorn in Elvish when he’s afraid or nervous

Honestly, Aragorn would be lowkey attracted to the way Legolas absolutely just knocks that guy out with his arm and he doesn’t understand it until later

Let’s be real, Legolas would be so offended when Snake Man smacks Aragorn like that, like “hello, that’s my boyfriend, you’re not my president”

Legolas standing next to Aragorn count: 18

Legolas lowkey being sad not being able to ride beside Aragorn on the way to Helm’s Deep

I genuinely wonder what it would be like if I rewrote the dream sequence. Like, if it was Legolas even though he’s there with him and Aragorn wakes up wishing that the dream were true and, once again, not understanding exactly why he feels that way. Although it does make for a bit of an awkward moment between the two of them in the morning and Legolas is extremely confused

Not sure what to do about the Evenstar, probably just forget about it in the second AU (whatever that would be honestly i have no idea)

Honestly in this second AU i would love to explore whatever the fuck is going on in Mirkwood that Legolas has to deal with and Aragorn realizing that something is fucking with him. Perhaps instead of the Undying Lands scene with Eowyn it’s instead similar to that since we’re speaking about Aragorn staring into the distance

Lowkey Aragorn looking terrified when Legolas just runs off to take out that scout and he’s like “fuck where are you going, don’t go where I can’t follow”

Legolas getting minorly injured in that battle (of the cliff I guess, his face is BROKEN by the way) and doesn’t address it until they find Aragorn and then it genuinely starts to affect him to the point where he finally passes out and everyone is like “FUCK what happened, oh my god he’s hurt”

God Eowyn’s face is nothing compared to Legolas’ when they think Aragorn is dead

Someone would gladly say, I think, “the guy was fucking heartbroken, he wouldn’t rest one fucking second because he knew that’s exactly what you would do and he figured that since he couldn’t save you, this was the least he could do”

The look Legolas gives him when he refuses to rest literally screams “sit the fuck down, I swear to the Valar I’ll kill you myself”

Aragorn: “Why do you hurt? What is your pain? Please, tell me!”

Legolas: “The trees. The Woodland Realm. My…My home. They are dying.”

That whole argument scene, the expressions goddamn

Legolas was definitely helping Aragorn get dressed in his armor what do you mean

Aragorn calling for his husband in the middle of a fight count: 3

Perhaps I’ll headcanon that Legolas does some of the shit he does just to impress Aragorn

RoTK

I imagine Legolas participating in the drinking game with half a desire to impress Aragorn, half a desire to screw with Gimli, and perhaps a hope to attempt to drown his sorrows of unrequited love depending on the story

The scene where Aragorn leaves the others while they sleep, what if he were to speak to Legolas instead of Eowyn

The way they look at each other at exactly the same time is crazy holy shit

It’s a common fandom thought (the one for this ship at least) that Legolas drags Aragorn away from holding the Palantir because he doesn’t want it to hurt him more than it already has (also that Legolas held him in his arms across his chest, that’s fun)