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whatsnewalycat · 3 months

Text

RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

[ NEXT PART ]

2K notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 4 months

Text

Anything for you, beautiful girl.

Felix Catton x virgin!reader

SMUT later in the story

Summary: The reader has a panic attack after being called names. Felix makes sure she knows how well she's loved by him as he talks her through it.

Warnings: cursing, p in v, fingering, name-calling by someone else.

Author's note: this is a mix of like nine different asks, so I hope it did them well enough together! ALSO, SWEET LOVEMAKING WITH FELIX IS THE BEST OML. Like he def talks you through it.

Masterlist

..................................................................

Felix and Y/N had been dating for only a little while.

7 months, 22 days and counting.

Well, Felix was.

He still couldn't believe he managed to get the prettiest girl in school. And that, she was.

She was utterly gorgeous. But she had the habit of not giving many people the time of day, opting rather to be by herself. Felix had always thought that if she really applied herself, she could be the most popular in college.

…

She was supposed to meet Felix at his dorm after their morning classes, which was to be 12:20. She had gotten out of her's early, so she sat on his bed, watching her phone glow from a call from her mother.

Her parents were horrible people, and Felix often encouraged her to ignore their callings, like today.

But this was the fifth call in ten minutes. And even for them, that was a bit excessive.

So, she picked it up.

…

The time was now 12:30 and Felix was walking down the corridor of his dorm, nearing his door. He reached for the handle, pausing when he heard the muffled sound of crying through it. He pushed his ear against the door, trying to truly tell if it was coming from his room.

The second he recognized it to be her, he threw the door open.

And the sight startled him.

She laid on the floor next to his bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, her hands covering her face in muffled sobs and weeps.

She hadn't even heard him come in.

He immediately dropped his bag, kneeling down in front of her. He reached out with one hand, placing it on the side of her head.

She jumped, a small whimper coming from her throat as she finally looked up at him.

Her face was tear stained and her eyes were wide in fear. Her bottom lip quivered as she stared at him, her breathing beyond erratic.

But her eyes seemed to relax sightly as she recognized who he was.

Felix took a moment to access the situation, deciding what to do.

His voice was soft, a reminder of his gentleness for her, "…Angel? What's happened…?"

She simply continued to stare, her breathing too spastic to speak.

Once he recognized that, he sat himself on the floor completely, his worried eyes taking in her shaking frame. "Oh, Angel…" he cooed.

He gently pulled at her arms until he got her to sit in his lap. She then threw her arms around him and sobbed violently into his shoulder. "I…I couldn't… I didn't…" Felix tried to listen, but she couldn't even mutter a sentence through the tears.

He held her close to him, feeling her erratic heartbeats and worrying. "Hey…"

When she didn't respond, he reached up to cup her face, his voice stronger, "Hey."

She finally looked up at him.

"Angel… you gotta calm yourself. Breathe with me. Yeah, pretty girl?"

She let out a soft nod.

He pulled her hand onto his chest to let her feel his calming breaths.

Eventually, she got the pattern down, and her own breathing was becoming somewhat calm.

He lets out a soft sigh at the sight of her tears finally slowing. "Beautiful, tell me what happened. What started all this?"

She sniffled, shaking her head. She pushed her face back into his shoulder.

One of his hands came up to play with her hair. His voice was soft, "Angel, how can we fix this if I don't even know how it happened?"

Then he looked up, seeing her phone resting on the edge of the bed. His eyebrows furrowed. He reached up, taking the small phone in his large hands.

He saw the screen light up with missed call notifications from a 15 minutes ago, but then only 3 minutes ago was multiple texts, all from her mother:

"I meant what I said."

"Wait until your father hears about you."

An audible gasp came from Felix's mouth as he read the words. Some fucking family they were. "Angel…?"

She let out a soft hum against his shoulder.

He nudged her softly, "Angel, I need you to pay attention."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. She saw the phone in his hand and her eyes widened, "Lex… I… I'm sorry."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, "No, Angel. You're not sorry. Because you don't have anything to be sorry about. Right? You didn't do anything, did you?"

She shrugged, "Mum sai-"

"-I don't give a fuck what your mum says," he said sharply. He let it sit before his voice softened, "I'm sorry, baby girl. I shouldn't yell at you. Your mum says awful things. Just… tell me what happened."

She sniffles, "Well, she called me over 5 times and-"

"Well, why did you pick it up, pretty girl?" He asked, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I think I was worried something serious had happened. I… I should've known better, Lex. That's why I'm sorry…"

His heart was breaking for her. His perfect little angel truly thought she deserved the horrific things her family always told her. That she was worthless. Stupid. Ugly.

And above all that, she still felt the need to apologize to him for it.

"Oh, honey. Don't be sorry for that. We can't help it sometimes. Now," he pulled her close, his lips close to her ear, "tell me what she said to you today."

"…Promise you won't be mad…?"

He almost scoffed. Mad? At her? Never. Her mother? Always.

"No, angel. I won't be mad at you. I'll never be mad at you. Tell me."

She sighed, "She said I was… that I…"

Felix leaned in, waiting to hear her finish.

"…she said I was a whore."

Felix froze. His voice was deep, harsh and unkind, his face mimicking, "You're. Not. A. Whore."

Her eyes peered up to Felix's, a visible look of worry etched on her face. "I... It's just.. I… It…"

"I know, baby. It hurts when someone you trust says something so vile." He leaned his face to be inches from hers. "You don't believe it, do you?"

She looks down, her eyes saying enough.

Felix looked to the side, his jaw clenched. A long breath came out from his nose as he thought.

She noted the anger on his face and was quick to try to counteract it, "Felix. I… I'm fine. Please…"

"NO."

She leaned back from him, surprised by his raised voice.

He sighed again, trying to reign back his mind, "You're not a whore, angel."

She smiled, her hands coming up to caress his cheeks, "thank you, Felix."

"I mean it. You're no whore. We haven't even…. Ugh… why does she think that?"

"We've been dating a few months and… I guess she just expects it."

He nods, "Sure, for most. But you and I aren't most, are we, honey?"

She nods, "I'm sorry for that, too."

He does scoff this time, "I would wait a millennium, if that's what it took. I don't care."

"And to think…" she said under her breath.

He tilts his head, "…'and to think'….what?"

She looks at him like a deer in the headlights, realizing he had heard it, "I… nothing."

He smiles, "Tell me, angel. What's on your mind?"

"I just love you, is all."

His smile grew. He leaned close, a hand caressing her face gently as he slowly connected their lips. The kiss was soft and slow, expressing every emotion the other was feeling.

--------------------------SMUT STARTS HERE------------------------

He broke it, "You're so beautiful, angel." He kissed softly at her neck, "I would worship your body for eternity if you will let me." The humming of his voice tickled her throat softly, "Mmm… You own me, princess. Let me show you what you are to me, yeah?"

She nodded.

He gently picked her up, laying her on the bed. "How far can I go today, angel?"

She placed a hand on his chest, "I want you to go all the way."

His eyebrows furrowed, "W….what?"

Her voice was a whisper, "Please, Felix. I want to. I want… I want you, please."

He sat on the bed next to her, "And this… has nothing to do with earlier?"

She shakes her head, "I… I decided that today I wanted… I.. I wore… um… other things for today that I've never worn before. Because I want this, Catton. Please."

He smiled, "Alright, baby. I'll do just that." He leaned down, giving her a gentle kiss. "I wanna make you feel good. Can I do that? Make you feel pretty like you already are?"

She nodded, "Please, Lex."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He gently pulled the clothes from her body, taking his time to watch her reaction closely. He half expected her to back out.

But she wasn't backing out.

He let out a low whistle under his breath at the sight of her lingerie. She wasn't joking.

She was beautiful.

"Oh, pretty girl… you make me so proud to be yours."

He leaned down on her small body, kissing her again.

One of his hands began to wander south. One finger broke the band of her underwear, and he pulled away from the kiss. "This alright?"

She pulled him back down into the kiss.

His hand wandered down her panties to her slit. He knew not only by the feeling, but the sharp intake of breath from his pretty girl.

He smiled, "Can I touch you, angel?"

Her voice was a whimper, "Please… p…please…"

He gently pushed a finger into her core.

He had never done this with her. And, judging from her reaction, she had never done this at all.

A low moan came from her throat as his second knuckle passed her pussy lips.

"Oh, honey. So pretty f'me. Yeah… prettiest girl I know…"

Once his finger bottomed out, he began to pull it back out, only to repeat the process.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing shaky.

She was a vision.

Felix couldn't stop the smile on his face.

He loved her so much.

And she was trusting him with everything she had.

"Alright. I'm gonna add another one. Think you can take that?"

She nodded through the feeling, letting herself be stuffed with his fingers.

He kissed her forehead, "Just getting you ready for me, yeah?"

Her hand reached down her grip his wrist, "Felix.. I.. I don't…"

"Pretty girl can't hold on anymore? That's okay. Let it out, baby. Let me hear it."

Her back arched as she came on his fingers. A small whimper came from her mouth as her toes curled involuntarily.

She slumped back against the bed, feeling him kiss her neck gently.

"Good. So good. You wanna stop?"

She shakes her head, "No, please. I.. I wanna do this…"

He nods, "Okay. We'll do it."

He stood, rushing to his backpack. He pulled a water bottle from it, bringing it back to the bed. "Here, angel. Drink."

She did as he commanded.

Once she caught her breath, their lips connecting once more.

…

"Think you can do this, angel?"

She nods.

"This is what you want?"

She nods again.

"I have to hear you say it, princess. Please."

"Felix, please. I want you."

His hips slowly met with hers as he sunk into her.

He couldn't help the satisfied breath that left his lungs.

She let out a small grunt.

He bottomed out, looking back at her. "Tell me, baby."

Her eyebrows were furrowed together and her breathing become shallow. "I.. it hurts, Lex."

He nods, "I know." He kisses her forehead. "I'll stay as long as it takes for you to be ready."

After a moment, she nods, her hand coming up to his chest, "Please…"

He smiles, "Alright, angel. This may still hurt a bit, but it'll feel good, too. I promise."

And with that, he began to thrust.

He couldn't stop the soft curses that came from his mouth under his breath. He couldn't help it. Seeing her so pretty under him like this alone could make him come undone.

She was no different. The pain turned into pleasure quick and she was arching her back to meet with his thrusts.

One hand of his reached down to push her hips back down, "Calm down, angel. I'll relieve you. I always will."

She nodded, small grunts and whimpers coming from her throat.

This moment was beautiful, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

He rested on one elbow, the hand on that arm coming up to her face, lightly tapping her cheek, "You gotta breathe. C'mon, baby. Breathe for me."

He was right. In all the pleasure, she wasn't breathing well.

Soon, he leaned down to her ear, "You close, honey?"

"S…s…so…so close…"

"Me too. God, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Do it, baby."

And she did.

He was not far behind, grunting as he came.

And the two simply stared at each other in awe.

"Thank you, angel."

"For what?"

"For trusting me this much."

He got up, throwing on his boxers. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her alone in the bedroom.

She sat up on her elbows, her eyebrows furrowing.

She didn't understand why he'd leave like that.

He returned quickly though. "C'mere, princess. Let me clean you up."

He held a soft towel in his hand.

He gently cleaned her, kissing her temple while doing so. "How about a bath, beautiful?"

She smiled, "I'd love one."

He nodded, "Anything for you, beautiful girl."

.......................................................................................

#fanfiction #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi imagine #felix catton x you #saltburn 2023 #saltburn angst #saltburn movie #saltburn smut #saltburn #felix catton smut #smut

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dreamwritesimagines · 5 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes love and power become entwined with each other.

Tropes: Mob!Au, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, pining, slow burn.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, underworld, dysfunctional relationships and explicit language. (Separate and specific warnings will be included in each chapter)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Prologue

Chapter 1 : A night out with an old friend can lead to surprises.

Chapter 2 : Gifts can make good apologies.

Chapter 3 : Guests shouldn't overstay their welcome.

Chapter 4 : A quiet night on the rooftop holds new promises.

Chapter 5 : Certain arguments can't wait.

Chapter 6 : Rumors can spread fast.

Chapter 7 : New enemies can complicate everything.

Chapter 8 : Some decisions require late night visits.

Chapter 9 : A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Chapter 10 : Happy news can make a dinner so much better.

Chapter 11 : Engagement period is supposed to be romantic.

Chapter 12 : Some car rides aren't relaxing.

Chapter 13 : There are many ways to plan a wedding.

Chapter 14 : A wedding can be a good place for clarity.

Chapter 15 : The first day of marriage can be relaxing.

Chapter 16 : Some meetings cause rumors.

Chapter 17 : Petty fights can start out of nowhere.

Chapter 18 : Family dinner can get tense.

Chapter 19 : A therapy session can be enlightening.

Chapter 20 : Business deals are open to negotiation.

Chapter 21 : Calmness is a facade.

Chapter 22 : New deals mean new players.

#the eye of the hurricane #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob!au

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rageserenity · 2 months

Text

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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azsazz · 3 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 24)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,511

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.

You go to class, see your friends, and spend most nights with your boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin you can find. The five of you hang out as a group and you’ve never been happier.

You’re even passing art history, thanks to Azriel’s fool-proof system of studying; a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer you give.

For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of your year, it is. There's still that niggling feeling inside of you that you just can’t seem to get over, though. As you sit in the art building working on your project for Alis’ class, you’re not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last assignment before the semester ends and you’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of your attempted creativity fizzling out within hours.

Now, with only two days to go before it’s due for critique, you’re on the cusp of tears. It’s not from lack of trying, but because you’ve been forcing yourself to tap into your inner creative and find your muse. You want to create something that you’re proud of, but there’s nothing for your heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make you want to pour your soul onto the paper.

You’re starting to think that you might fail this class.

Feyre had offered to tag along, but she’s already finished her project fairly quickly after the assignment was given out, and things have been a bit awkward between you and Lucien since he found out that you and Azriel are officially dating.

Naturally, the event had occurred after one of your drawing classes. It almost felt like deja vu, with the way Azriel was waiting outside of the building. This time, you were more than happy to see your boyfriend, who was leaning up against the side of his motorcycle, helmet tucked under his arm with a second one perched beside him.

You could admit that you’re starting to enjoy riding on his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken you to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of his life back on campus such as his father pestering him about the buying building he lives in. He hasn’t responded to a single text message.

“(Y/N), hold up a minute,” Lucien said, stopping you from going down the stairs of the building to meet your boyfriend with a hand on your shoulder. Feyre continues downward after you gently wave her on, but you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes narrow.

“What’s up, Luc?” you ask, although you already know what he’s wondering. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that whatever you and Azriel had started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer your infuriating neighbor, but the boy you you’re slowly starting to fall—

Thankfully, Lucien interrupts the thought before you can dwell on it too long. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, jerking his head to where Feyre and Azriel are talking quietly. The latter watches you and Lucien’s exchange intently. “I thought you two hated each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?”

A pang of guilt gnaws at your stomach. You feel bad for not telling Lucien about your newfound romance with Azriel, but you’ve been wanting to tell him over lunch or coffee, but with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of you had been too busy to properly hang out.

Your cheeks heat and it’s hard to look him in his eyes when he looks so confused. “Yeah, um, Azriel and I are sort of dating now.”

Lucien frowns, “Sort of?”

“We are,” you shake your head, answering more solidly this time. “We’re dating.”

You don’t miss the hurt that flashes through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh, kicking and digging the tip of your shoe into the concrete for something to focus on. You don’t like the way that Lucien is looking at you, like you’re no longer his friend, which isn’t the case at all. Sure, you know that for whatever reason he and Azriel don’t see eye-to-eye, and you can admit that you’ve only fed into that storyline by spending most of your time these days with Azriel and not taking the proper time to check in with your friend, but right you feel like you’re the one at blame for not reaching out.

It seems as if Azriel has had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides are long, sure, and his spine straightens with each step closer he takes, shoulders widening and chest puffing.

“Hey, princess.”

“Azriel,” you greet with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucks you into his side and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand is firm against your hip and you enjoy the way he feels, the way he allows you to siphon some of his strength for this conversation. “This is Lucien. Lucien, this is Azriel.”

The two boys stare at each other, sizing one another up. It makes you shift on your feet but Azriel’s hold only tightens, showing you off, staking his claim.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Neither of them greet each other and it's as if they’re both waiting for the other to look away first so the other can snap at their neck like a rabid dog. You shoot a look towards Feyre but her head is buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that’s happening up the stairs.

A muscle ticks in Lucien's jaw before he rips his gaze away from Azriel to settle back on yours. He gives you a single nod, and you’re not sure how to feel when his throat works around a swallow, his normally honeyed voice coming out rougher. “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”

“Lucien,” you call, but he’s already turned down the stairs and is brushing past Feyre, whose eyebrows furrow with concern at the sight of your friend. She tries to speak to him but he brushes her off gently, and when her heavy blue-gray eyes settle on you, you deflate into Azriel’s side.

You feel similarly to how you did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before you is filled with the darkness from your charcoal, your fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes you’d been sketching stare back at you, taunting you, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for you.

It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid, but as you look in the mirror hanging to your left, you can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with you. Feyre had drawn herself as some sort of beast, her true self, she claimed. When you had asked Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel what they had done when they took their drawing classes, Rhysand said he drew himself with dragon features, Cassian morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Azriel had drawn himself with the bat wings inked across his back.

The last time you spoke with Lucien before your relationship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and you’d seen one of the other girls in your class, Vassa, you think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Alis had announced the final project, and you had only ducked your head, unsure of what to do.

Voices trickling down the hall startle you from your thoughts. You set your chalk down as you recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Azriel and Cassian appear in the doorway to the classroom. Cassian’s splattered with clay from having been working on his own final project of the year, something he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell anyone what it is, and the smile that lights Azriel’s face when his eyes connect with yours is perfect.

You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders had been, but the way they deflate at the sight of him makes you realize just how tired you are. There isn’t much time left until your project is due, and you’re sure to remind yourself that once again, you need to focus.

But the way Azriel’s eyes drag down your hands, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with heat, you’re forgetting your deadline and the project you’ve barely started completely.

“Hey, princess,” Azriel greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but to slant against him a little, your energy from your long night sapped. His hand caresses your cheek and he frowns a little, examining your exhausted and frustrated state.

Your heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows you. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from you because you’ve spent night after night showing him just how much they mean to you.

“Hi,” you reply with a soft yet strained smile, you turn to Cassian next. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hey (Y/N). How’s the art project coming along?”

You sigh, leaning further into Azriel’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, “It looks like you have a solid start.”

You crinkle your nose, examining your paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and you wonder for a moment if Azriel’s just being nice about it. But you know him better than that, and he would never tease you about a craft so dear to both of your hearts.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you groan.”I’ve started over three times.” All you want to do is throw your head in your hands but you don’t want to get chalk all over your face, unless Azriel is the one putting it there. Naked.

Maybe having sex will help get your creativity flowing?

Your boyfriend frowns for a moment, examining your work. You can see the cogs turning in his head, how he might help you figure out what to draw for your project. Of course, you could easily draw any animal mixed with yourself, but you really want this one to have meaning behind it.

“Why don’t you take a break and we can all grab something to eat?” Azriel suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Cass and I were going to head over to Ritas.”

A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now, to be honest.

You stare at the paper before you. You really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time you can’t stand to stare at it any longer.

Two more days. You still have two more days.

“Yeah, I could use a snack,” you agree, picking up your pencil box from the floor and tossing your sticks of chalk into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” You stand from your art horse, eyeing the mess of black. “You should too, Cassian. You’re covered in clay.”

He only grins and you—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, (Y/N). But you know a little something about that, don't you?”

You try to force the warmth from your cheeks as you think of just how thorough Azriel had been the last time he drew you. How up close and personal he’d gotten with his stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let you get with some paints you’d bought.

Sometimes you love being an artist.

“Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel gripes, flipping your large sketchpad shut. He helps you pack your things while Cassian snickers, and his eyes are hot when you rub your hands together, trying to dispel the dust from them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and your sketchpad under his arm while you dart off to wash your hands before Azriel can get any ideas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is…bustling for a Friday night.

It looks completely different from when you’d been here last. No sign of the irritable waitress, no sign of anything really, you’re unable to see through the mass of the crowd, stuffed in booths and gyrating in whatever open space is left.

The lights are low. A colorful disco ball spins in the center of the diner that you hadn’t even noticed your first time here. Spots of color percolate around the room, seeming to guide the students on the little dancefloor as they sway their bodies, the tables lined up against the walls for this purpose.

“Rhys and Feyre are on their way,” Cassian says, reading a message on his phone before swiping at the screen. You don’t see the way that his eyes darken at whatever notification pops up because Azriel’s tugging you through the crowd.

The air is hot with bodies and laughter and as you make your way through the throng of people, you’re glad Azriel had talked you into a quick pit stop at the apartment to put your things away, as if he had known the diner would look like this tonight. He must spend more time here than you thought because he eases through the crowd, shoulders lax, letting the clubby music pouring from the jukebox wash over him.

“Are you sure this is Rita’s?” you call over Azriel’s shoulder, genuinely confused to how the dingy daytime diner has turned into this delightful nighttime dance party.

He tosses you a smile over his shoulder that makes your heart flutter.

“It’s where all of the cool kids go before and after the bars,” Cassian teases when Azriel finally finds an empty spot for the three of you to stand. He’s scouring the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone and returns his hazel gaze to you with a lazy grin. “C’mon, (Y/N), it’s like you don’t even go here.”

You roll your eyes, grumbling a little as Azriel pulls you to his front, settling his hands on your hips. The music is surprisingly loud but it’s good, causing you to roll your hips a little with the rhythm. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you can feel the interested bulge in his pants as his breathing turns heavier with your motions.

“Spent most of my time at house parties last year,” you answer, shouting over the volume of the bar. “I’m hardly of drinking age, lest you forget.” You lean towards Cassian so he can hear you, pressing your ass further into Azriel’s cock. His thumb sneaks under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

As if he isn’t the one that brought you here, he seems to have changed his mind fairly quickly.

“In that case, allow me to buy you a drink, my lady,” Cassian bows a little, taking his time eyeing the lower region of a girl that passes by. “What are you having?”

You shrug, no longer in the mood for a milkshake. You scan the crowd, flickering over everyone on the dancefloor as you mull it over. “Something with rum,” you answer, and you don’t even think he’s listening anymore as the girl gives him a salacious smile over her shoulder and he starts chasing tail.

“Think he’s coming back?” you ask over your shoulder. Your squeal is eaten up by the changing of songs as your boyfriend spins you abruptly in his arms, plastering his hips against yours in a slow grind that matches the heavy bass that makes the crowd cheer in excitement.

“Don’t care,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. He follows his words with a nip at your lobe and you bite your lip, winding your arms around his neck.

“Azriel,” you tut, but you can’t stop looking at his lips. His stare is hot and his hold is demanding, keeping you glued to his front as you grind your hips against his teasingly. “Cassian is your friend.”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now, princess,” Azriel all but growls, golden eyes igniting.

“What do you want?” you ask breathlessly, your nipples tightening into pebbles beneath your shirt.

You’re thankful no one’s eyes are on you right now, all lost in their own conversations or dances with their partners. You don’t think it would matter if they were looking anyway, because you’re so focused on Azriel and the way his body reacts to a simply press of your body against his, warmth flooding you the way it always does when he’s around, that you might need that drink poured over you to pull your attention from him.

“First, I want to take you home,” his hand strokes a long line up your spine and he buries it in the hair at the nape of your neck. You gasp at his firm hold, arousal dripping to your core when Azriel uses that hand to guide your head away from him to suck at your neck. You arch into him, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Then, I’m going to strip you of all of these clothes,” his free hand grabs a handful of your ass and your approving hum sounds more like a moan. “And I’m going to ask you to ride me, princess. I want you to guide my cock into your tight, drenched pussy and take what you want, because you’re my needy girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” your nails rake down the back of his shirt.

“And when you’re cumming on my cock, squeezing me tight, I want you to—”

“Your drinks,” Cassian says gruffly, shoving a cup between you and Azriel. It forces him to stand straight, glaring absolute daggers at his best friend but it seems to bound off of Cassian’s shoulders easily, because he looks just as pissed.

You’re still a bit dazed, so it takes you a moment or two to figure out what’s going on. Azriel won’t let you leave your position, can’t let you leave your position because his boner if full on fucking raging right now, but he does allow you to turn around again, taking the drink from Cassian to quickly take a sip, trying to quench your parched throat.

“Thanks,” you say but Cassian hardly acknowledges it, passing a beer over to Azriel. He had two still clenched firmly in his free hand but he takes one and slams it back quickly, emptying its contents before Azriel’s even had a sip of his own.

“You okay, Cass?” Azriel asks, his hand sliding protectively over your hip. There’s no need to protect you from Cassian, but even you can admit as you shift from one foot to the other, that it’s weird seeing him like this. Not as carefree as he normally is.

“Fucking dandy,” Cassian grunts, hazel eyes grazing down where you and Azriel are still pressed tightly together. He looks away just as quickly and you think you see his lip curl a little.

Azriel stiffens behind you.

What the hell is going on with him?

Before you have the chance to ask or Azriel has the chance to bait him, Feyre’s pushing through the crowd, towing Rhys behind her. One girl glares at her as she passes but Feyre doesn’t seem to notice, eyes lit with happiness when they finally reach your little group, unaware of the clouds of tension bubbling around the three of you.

Cassian makes an effort not to choke down his entire second beer but it’s all too tempting. He takes a deep sip so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Hey,” she greets, cheeks a little flushed already. Rhysand and she must have been drinking before they came out. Or had sex.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep your grip on your cup relaxed. Cassian is acting strange. You glance up at him again but he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone right now, glaring into the mass of people. Yup, definitely avoiding looking at any of you.

“Rhys,” you hear Feyre say as you share a confused look with Azriel. His brows are pulled tight as he examines one of his best friends. He’d seemed fine back at the art building, his normal cheery and cheeky attitude threatening to drive him up the wall, so what happened between then and now? “Will you go get me a drink, please?”

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he agrees, but Cassian’s already shoving past him, muttering how he’ll get them drinks. Rhysand’s mouth parts but Cassian has already disappeared into the crowd. Well, as much as any six-foot-five man can disappear. “What’s his problem?”

Azriel shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “If we only knew.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel/reader #tattoo arstist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au

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youneedsomeprompts · 6 months

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~ FORBIDDEN LOVE ~ PROMPTS about secret dating

requested by: various anons requests: I saw the "Forbidden Love" prompts, mostly about not admitting to themselves / each other, and it really made me yearn for forbidden love prompts where they're together but they have to hide it from everyone else; one sided “keeping a relationship hidden from coworkers”; can you post prompts about two oblivious people who are already dating but the other people don't know they're dating? dialogues or scenarios would do<3 thank you and love your prompt contents!

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1: ~ FORBIDDEN LOVE ~ PROMPTS about confessing a forbidden crush Part 2: ~ FORBIDDEN LOVE ~ PROMPTS about showing love without confessing

Setting/scenario:

#1 - keeping it secret at first because they didn't think it would turn into something that serious anyway #2 - enjoying the thrill of the secrecy #3 - being unsure whether that nervous feeling in their stomach is coming from their feelings for the other or the fact the relationship has to be kept a secret #4 - it's killing them that they have no one they can share their thoughts about their new relationship with #5 - making up the most random excuses to secretly meet up with the other #6 - screaming internally because they're having a date but they can't talk about it #7 - trying to act casual and unsuspicious in public when they're together but it's so hard #8 - teasing the other because they know how hard it is for them to keep their affection/arousal to themselves #9 - making promises that they don't have to keep it secret for much longer (but is it really realistic?) #10 - developing a method to communicate in code #11 - keeping it secret to protect the other #12 - keeping it secret until better times come #13 - making up for keeping it secret by extremely romantic/spoiling dates when they're alone #14 - wanting to fix everything before making the other their official s/o #15 - finding it the least stressful way to date to just keep it secret #16 - enjoying their little, happy secret because that way, no one can ruin it/take it from them #17 - it's like living in two completely separate worlds because their relationship is something that just exists between the two of them and the time together is always otherworldly #18 - wanting to stay in their happy dream world forever #19 - making plans for the future together, even though they don't know where they will be tomorrow #20 - they're keeping the other's love letters hidden under their pillow even though they know how risky it is

Dialogue:

#21 - "You're the most precious thing to me. So, I have to keep you as safe as possible." #22 - "Ah, I'm glad to have you finally to myself." #23 - "When I'm with you, it's like the earth stood still. I'm never so at peace." #24 - "You know, I really don't want to imagine what would happen if the others knew." #25 - "We have to be more careful. This was really a close call." #26 - "Do you really think it's necessary we keep it secret for much longer?" #27 - "I'm doing this for you. You're much better off when the others don't know." "You always say that. But I'm not sure if I still believe it." #28 - "It's not ideal but hell would break lose if it came out. I'm really glad we have the moments of peace. And intimacy." #29 - "Could you have imagined that we would someday end up like this?" #30 - "You're the best that happened to me. And I can tell no one about it. But I want to shout it from the rooftops." "Oh, you better don't. But you can always whisper it to my ear." #31 - "Isn't it fun to have this secret?" #32 - ^ "That's one way to call it." #33 - "I was really impressed how you handled that earlier. So cool. So smooth. So casual. As if I hadn't just made you whimper and made your eyes roll back minutes prior." #34 - "It's all worth it. I would risk it all again just to be with you." #35 - "Do you really think this is a good idea? They could find us." #36 - "You'll be the death of me." #37 - "To be honest, it's pretty funny to see you acting so unfazed and oblivious when we both know you were still thinking about me being naked." #38 - ^ "I always think about you being naked. It's not as if it's a new challenge to keep a straight face." #39 - "But you do know that I'm doing this all for you, right? Otherwise, I couldn't care less." "But you have to act as if you were in for the thing itself. They cannot connect you to me." #40 - "One day, I will carry you off to a place where it's just us. So, be prepared to be kindly abducted one day, alright?"

#forbidden love prompts #forbidden romance prompts #secret dating prompts #writing prompts #prompt list #prompts #otp prompts #otp #fanfic prompts #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writeblr #setting prompts #dialogue prompts #romance prompts #romantic prompts #40 prompts

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adascore · 6 months

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The Golden War

pairings: alexia putellas x lyonnais!reader

warnings: swearing. for culers the ‘22 uwcl final ig. jona is kinda mean in this.

author’s note: this is the same reader from my ‘one for the money, two for the show’ fic of the lionesses!captain. reader is basically ada hegerberg lolsies :) will be turned into a series.

masterlist

•••••

Turin, Italy - May, 2022

''The final has been dubbed as a duel between you and Alexia Putellas, do you experience it as that?''

The Lyon captain fought the urge to roll her eyes at the question, despite having expected it. ''It is a final between Barcelona and Lyon, nothing more than that.'' She answered, diplomatically- the way they had rehearsed it.

''Lyon is the underdog coming into this final- FC Barcelona has been unbeatable so far. What do you need to do in order to beat them tomorrow?'' Another reporter asked, a pen ready in his hand to take notes.

There was a slight change in her expression as the question left his lips, the man succeeding in poking through her stoic expression. ''Well, we have never lost to Barcelona- I don't know if you remember 3 years ago or even last year,''

Lyon had comfortably beaten the Spanish club in 2019. In that Champions League Final, Y/N had become the first player to score a hattrick in a UWCL final. Their last meeting had been in 2021, in the pre-season, where Lyon had won 3-2, the Lyon captain again putting one in the net.

''We have won this competition many times. There was football before Barcelona, and it was being played by us.''

Her last sentence of the quote had struck a nerve with the Barça captain.

''She acts like she has already won the whole thing.'' Alexia remarked as she read a transcript of the press conference.

Patri and Mapi glanced at one another, a knowing look in their eyes. ''Technically, there is nothing wrong about what she said, Ale. How many times has she won this competition now? 6? 7?'' The defender said, not having a problem with the opposition's words.

''She's just pissed that everyone is talking about us now.'' She ignored Mapi, continuing berating her opponent.

The rivalry between the captains of the two top teams had been something made up by the media, seeking a female counterpart to the famed Ronaldo-Messi rivalry. Both Alexia and Y/N led Europe's premier clubs, won the Champions League, captained their national teams, and earned the Ballon d'Or. This fueled incessant comparisons.

Alexia and Y/N hadn't given it much thought at first. There were also many differences between them; Alexia is a midfielder, while Y/N is a striker. Despite their similar ages, their careers took diverse paths. Alexia remained in the Spanish league, while Y/N gained experience across various countries.

Over time, an unexpected shift occurred. They began caring about each other's achievements. Yet, they knew the comparison wasn't fair.

Despite being younger, Y/N dominated women's football for longer, winning the Champions League seven times – twice with Wolfsburg and five times with Lyon. In contrast, Alexia secured one with Barcelona. Neither had won anything major with their national teams, though she had come close with England a few times. Furthermore, on the accolades side of things, Y/N led with a repertoire that most players could only dream of.

For a long time, it hadn't bothered Alexia. She had watched in admiration as the younger player became the first recipient of the Ballon d'Or, a huge step in women's football. Y/N's advocacy for the sport also didn't escape the Spanish player.

However, her admiration had turned into envy.

The turning point came in the 2019 final against Lyon. She had observed the way the English striker had celebrated with her entire team- how the Lyon squad immediately ran to her once the whistle blew and how Y/N bathed in all the (rightly deserved) glory. Alexia wanted that for herself. For years, Y/N had been the nail in Barcelona's coffin, scoring the goals that made sure they couldn't continue in the competition- in the captain's opinion, the striker had made a joke of her team for years, even if she didn't meant to do that.

Their interactions over the years were limited to polite handshakes before or after matches. Occasional encounters outside the pitch were rare and brief, seldom extending beyond a few sentences.

Alexia's surprise peaked when Y/N congratulated her on winning the Ballon d'Or through both private and public Instagram messages. Despite her reservations about comparisons and rivalry, receiving praise from someone she admired as one of the best in the game left Alexia with a positive feeling.

''No, I think she's just not a fan of being referred to as an underdog.'' Patri defended the Lyon striker.

This explanation didn't sit well with Alexia, evident from the displeasure on her face. ''Whatever,'' she retorted, looking forward to settling matters on the field that Saturday.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Excitement, adrenaline, nerves, and tension permeated the tunnel of Juventus Stadium as Alexia, tightly gripping her pennant, stood at the front of her lined-up team, awaiting the opposing captain.

The sudden hush among the Barcelona team signaled the arrival of their counterpart. Turning around, Alexia frowned at her teammates' fascination with the approaching striker.

This is not the time to be fangirling, she thought to herself, as she saw most of her players' eyes following the striker's figure.

As the two top players faced each other, uncertainty lingered about whether they should exchange greetings. Y/N broke the silence, deciding to offer some acknowledgment. ''Hey, you alright?'' Her charming English accent filled the air.

''Yeah, and you?'' Alexia almost cringed at her own quick response, not giving her brain time to think.

''I‘ll see in about 90 minutes.'' The younger one grinned.

I'll wipe that smirk off your fucking face, Alexia said in her mind, not a fan of the confidence the striker was oozing.

Ten minutes later, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the highly-anticipated final.

Lyon applied intense pressure right from the start, managing to create two goal-scoring opportunities within the first three minutes of the match.

However, the audience were offered their first initial glimpse of the rivalry in the 6th minute of the game.

Y/N positioned herself strategically, eyes fixed on her teammate readying a precise pass to her. The ball zipped across the pitch, and in a heartbeat, both Y/N and Alexia were locked onto winning it for themselves.

The striker, a master of timing, surged forward. Simultaneously, the midfielder closed in on the target. The collision was inevitable.

Both players fell with a thud, groaning at the contact with the ground. Despite the force of the clash, they both showed resilience as they wanted to use the momentum to their advantage.

They were momentarily entangled, fighting for control of the ball. It was a brief display of the rivalry that had brewed between them.

Y/N rose swiftly from the turf, eyes filled with determination. The collision had only fueled her competitive fire. With the ball firmly at her feet, she accelerated away from the mess, leaving Alexia behind.

The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers as Y/N, now in open space, scanned the field. Seizing the opportunity, she unleashed a powerful strike from well outside the box.

Time seemed to slow as the ball sailed towards the goal. Panos's desperate dive was in vain as the ball found the back of the net. The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium, a symphony of cheers and applause for a goal that showcased the skills and spirit of the Lyon captain.

A fleeting scowl crossed Alexia's face, frustrated at the missed opportunity.

Y/N turned on her heels as the net rippled, ready to embrace her teammates who were rushing to her.

''Vamos!'' She roared, the Spanish word escaping her lips like a battle cry.

Yet, she found herself face-to-face not with the familiar sight of Lyon jerseys but with the intensity of Alexia's determined gaze.

Her expression froze for a quick second, confusion adorning her features. Y/N's eyes widened in realization, and for a brief instant, the two captains locked eyes in an unspoken exchange.

The celebration continued around them, teammates engulfing Y/N as they screamed with delight at their captain's prolific opener. The air was filled with jubilation, but within the chaos, the tension lingered between the two captains, adding an intriguing layer to the unfolding drama on the pitch.

The match unfolded further, Barcelona grabbing a few opportunities of their own, but not being clinical enough to score an equalizer. The Spanish squad remained calm, showing no signs of panic in their play, despite being behind.

Selma and Melvine played a great one-two with each other, and the young defender shot a beautiful cross towards the box. Anticipating the trajectory of the ball, Y/N skillfully pulled away from Leon, who undoubtedly had the impossible task of marking the striker.

The ball connected with Y/N's forehead, falling perfectly into the mesh. The scoreboard illuminated with Lyon 2, Barcelona 0. The narrative had shifted as the favorites stomped the ground in frustration, while the ''underdogs'' celebrated another goal from their captain.

The first half flew by. Y/N managed to assist Catarina to make it 3-0, but Alexia found the back of the net to get one back.

3-1.

The second half saw more scoring opportunities for Barcelona, but no one managed to finish the job.

After contact with Martens, Griedge cited experiencing a cramp and asked for treatment- a request that the Barcelona side was not having. Y/N, understanding the frustration of time-wasting, especially when behind in a match, stood aside.

However, the Lyon captain didn't appreciate the scolding she received from the opposition's coach. ''Tell your player to stop the comedy, what a shit job!'' Jonatan exclaimed to the English captain, who observed the scene from the sideline.

Y/N didn't budge, paying him no attention, knowing it was all tactics. She gave an unimpressed look toward the referee, who had been observing the one-sided interaction.

The official ran up to them, pulling a yellow card from her pocket and holding it in front of the manager. ''Step back, please. Don't talk to the opposition.'' she instructed him.

The match eventually resumed. In extra time, Paredes almost managed to pull off a header, but it went flying over the post.

In the last minute of the game, Y/N teamed up with Eugénie to score a last-minute beauty, but the volley slammed against the post.

The piercing sound of the referee's whistle resonated through the stadium, marking the conclusion of the final. Lyon emerged triumphant for a record-extending 8th time.

Overwhelmed by her own emotions, Y/N fell to the ground as the whistle echoed in her ears. It didn't take too long for her teammates to rush up to her, colliding in a chaos of hugs, kisses, and jubilant shouts.

They had done it again, proving once more why all the records were tied to their name.

''Y/N, you're a fucking legend!'' Lindsey yelled in her ear, kissing her cheek multiple times.

As her teammates slowly got up from their celebratory cuddle with the ground, they formed a protective circle around their captain. Hands reached out to help her rise from the grass, and she found herself enveloped in a symphony of gratitude.

Eventually, she shook off her glorious daze, a wide grin etched on her face.

Y/N turned her attention to the defeated Barcelona players, spread out across the field with tears and disappointment staining their cheeks. She approached them, offering a helping hand to those still on the ground and sharing comforting words. Acknowledging the effort they had brought, she assured them that they gave her team a greater fight than the scoreline implied.

Before the Lyon squad embarked on their victory lap to greet the traveling supporters, Y/N's gaze fell on a heartbreaking scene. Across the field, the Spanish captain, Alexia, was cradled in a comforting embrace by a Barcelona staff member as tears streamed down her face.

Y/N hesitated, caught in a ''should I or shouldn't I'' moment with herself.

She chose to make an attempt to resolve whatever tension had built up between them.

Tears glistened on Alexia's cheeks, a testament to the intensity of the match and the dreams left unfulfilled. The Barcelona staff member, offering solace in the face of defeat, glanced up as Y/N approached, and let go of her.

''Alexia,'' Y/N greeted her softly, putting her arm around the Spaniard, ''thank you for the great battle.'' She hadn't prepared what to say, because what do you say against someone you feel like you are supposed to hate? What do you say against someone you've been constantly compared to for over a year?

To the striker's surprise, Alexia reciprocated, feeling an arm on her lower-back. ''Congratulations, you deserved the win. You played phenomenal.'' The midfielder told her, a forced yet genuine small smile making a way onto her face.

''Don't let this hurt you. You are literally one of the best players I have played against- your team is amazing. Use this, like in 2019.'' Y/N advised her, not particularly caring if the opposing player would take it or not.

''We will. I hope we can play many more finals. You make me- you make us grow.'' Alexia stuttered.

Y/N nodded. ''I hope so too. It's been fascinating to see the growth you guys have made these last years.''

The stadium now bore witness to a quieter exchange between the two captains. Almost every camera lens and watchful eye fixated on them.

As Y/N and Alexia exchanged words of mutual respect, their moment of shared understanding was abruptly disrupted by the Barcelona coach.

''Congratulations on the win, Y/N.'' He acknowledged briskly, his gaze quickly turning toward Alexia. His extended hand to her seemed more like a formality, but Y/N accepted it.

Almost forcibly, he placed a hand on Alexia's shoulder, a non-verbal cue that spoke volumes. ''Come on.'' He declared, his tone leaving little room for negotiation and they were off to wherever he needed her to be.

Alexia casted an immediate glance back at Y/N, a mix of emotions played across her face- gratitude for the moment, and frustration at its abrupt end. She hadn't responded to her words yet.

As the Spaniard was led away, Y/N's eyes lingered on the departing figure, a tinge of melancholy in her gaze.

The brief encounter had sparked a momentary connection- a bridge attempting to break through the perceived rivalry and show praise for a strong opponent. However, Jonatan's swift intervention acted like a pair of scissors, cutting through the threads that held that connection.

In Y/N's mind, Alexia had seemed appreciative of the opportunity to have a genuine conversation. She figured there must have been a good reason for her to have been pulled away like that, especially by the head coach.

The Barcelona captain had reacted with a hint of irritation when her coach suggested to the Lyon player to remove her arm from Alexia's shoulder. She tried asking Jonatan why he had coaxed her away, but she didn't receive a proper answer.

The whole thing had left a bitter taste in her mouth. The potential for a more extended, sincere exchange was cut short, leaving Alexia with lingering frustration. There was a desire to understand Y/N beyond the competition, but it was cut short.

She hoped her last glance had worked as a silent acknowledgment of what could have been.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #woso fic #alexia putellas fic

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shanastoryteller · 7 months

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Happy Halloween 🎃🎃🎃

Something lady Mo?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Lan Xichen is more surprised than anything else.

He has often spent time over the past thirteen years expecting Jiang Cheng and Wangji to come to blows. Wangji holds him responsible for Wei Wuxian's death, something Lan Xichen both understands and doesn't.

Wei Wuxian had survived so much worse than falling off a cliff face that there are days that he's convinced Jiang Cheng's paranoia is correct and Wei Wuxian really is walking around out there somewhere. It explains why no matter how many times his brother plays Inquiry, he never receives an answer.

The rest of the time, he's sure that Wei Wuxian has to be dead. He loved too fiercely to stay away thirteen years if he truly walked on the same plane as all those he treasured most.

Wangji and and Jiang Cheng have kept a simmering hatred between them for over a decade, each putting too much blame on the other for how things ended with Wei Wuxian. To see them fighting to draw blood is not a surprise.

That it's over Xuanyu is. Then again, perhaps she is just the last straw, the last thing they can withstand the other mishandling.

Xichen keeps an eye on the fight and even as blood starts flowing he stays out of it. This is a long time coming and while he's not willing to let anyone die over it, perhaps a little spilled blood will clear the air and do them all some good.

But Xuanyu turns the corner, frantic, with A-Yao following behind, significantly less frantic.

She goes white, which can't be good in her condition, and then she leaps into the middle of the fight. Lan Xichen jumps to intervene, because if one of them hurts Xuanyu then the other really will kill him, and of course he never wants Xuanyu to be injured, but especially not while she's expecting.

Except it all happens so fast that he doesn't get the chance.

She unsheathes her sword and swings it behind her, stopping Wangji's blade from hitting her back with her own blade. Wangji freezes immediately, horrified.

Xuanyu uses her sheath to knock against Jiang Cheng's blade, putting it just enough off course that it misses her shoulder. She steps closer, grabbing his wrist that he raises automatically, stilling it and Zidian both. "Enough!" she snaps, meeting Jiang Cheng's eyes squarely and scowling.

Jiang Cheng goes perfectly still, except his eyes which go almost comically wide.

He looks like he's seen a ghost.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #forestandstardust #untamed

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

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Summary: You met Eddie on a night out at the Hideout and maybe it was his big brown eyes, the way he kept telling you how pretty you look or the tequila shots but one thing led to another and you two hooked up in the back of his van. Now in a perfect world that would’ve been the end of it because that’s the thing with one night stands you normally don’t have to see them ever again. Well expect in your case you’ll be seeing a lot more of Eddie, because just three weeks after your little late night meeting in his van you find out you’re pregnant. So this series is all about how you and Eddie navigate being soon to be parents and also getting to know each other…let the fun begin!✨

A/N: This is going to be a twist on an enemies to lovers type thing! Also if you’d like on the tag list for this series let me know.

Status: Completed🖤

Conversations: Here

Instagrams: Here

Fics: Here

Extras: Here

*This is mainly a texting series and you’ll find everything in order below*

Part 1: Not In Love bonus fic of night you met here

Part 2: Stress Eater

Part 3: Mean It

Part 4: Kids bonus text with Steve here

Part 5: What’s Wrong? bonus convo with Wayne here

Part 6: Seven Up instagram extras here

Part 7: Baby Shit Eddie talking to the baby here

Part 8: Backseat Eddie texting Steve here bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 9: Curly Hair convo with Eddie when he picks you up here

Part 10: Nuggets bonus convo here

Part 11: Apartments bonus convo with you and Wayne here

Part 12: Halloween bonus convo with Eddie and Wayne here

Part 13: Friends bonus convos with Eddie here

Part 14: I’m Trying bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 15: Shoes

Part 16: Soothing

Part 17: Moment bonus convo with Eddie here

Part 18: Peach Rings bonus convo with Wayne and Eddie here

Part 19: The Chair

Part 20: Bestfriend

Part 21: Max

Part 22: Sagittarius bonus texts with Steve here

Part 23: Coming Home

Part 24: Lair

Part 25: Time Flies

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ellieluvr420 · 3 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Ways you can help Palestine

Trusted organisations you can donate to

TLOU (TLOU2 especially) is rooted in Zionism and Neil Druckmann is a Zionist. Please don't buy the games or watch the show unless pirating. Separate the characters from the content and its creators!

Please make sure that as well as spreading information and awareness online you are also doing it in real life! Never stop the conversation with the people around you because often its the people you know in real life (especially of older generations) that need the education. If you can go to protests, please do but be careful and take the necessary measures to protect yourself and others around you.

daily click

This account and the fics I write are an escape and a release for me but my account stands with palestine as it always will so any discourse (by discourse, I mean debate not communication as information-sharing is of course welcome) around the topic will not be tolerated because there shouldn't be any discourse, you either support genocide or you don't and anyone that does support the Israeli genocide of Palestinians or any for that matter is not welcome on my account. This is a safe space for my beautiful followers and any decent person is welcome but let's keep things kind please bby's.

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒

We Meet Again, Darling

SYNOPSIS: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Epilogue

Friends? Never

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Eye for an Eye

SYNOPSIS: Your body yearned for the touch of your girlfriend, the warm embrace that calmed your mind but you couldn't give in, the anger you harboured for her at disappearing with her group for three months without any warning, explanation or even a mention of when she would be back stopped you in your tracks any time you got close to giving in. You loved Abby so much but looking at her made you sick, you couldn't push the feelings down no matter how much you craved for things to go back to what they once were. You hadn't planned this but the anguish in those green eyes mirrored yours and sucked you in before you could think twice about the repercussions of your actions. You made your bed when you made the deal with the auburn-haired stranger, eventually you'd have to lie in it.

Teaser

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Abby

Change They had her, the love of your life, they had her and they were going to die for it.

Guardian Angel A guardian angel getting wrapped up with the human she was supposed to be protecting, a double-edged sword bound to hurt. The memory of you, your calming presence in a time where everything was hanging in the balance haunted her. All she craved was to see you again. She was addicted, obsessed. She needed you in every way but you only appeared in her mind, you were never part of reality. You were her saviour, the blood running through her veins, all she wanted was you, that was all she would ever want.

Ellie

You're mine It was silent, neither of you moved or spoke, your eyes were fixed on each other, neither of you daring to look away. Your eyes were glassy and bloodshot and hers were cold and dark, your nose was sore and running as you sniffled holding the tears in your eyes that were begging to be let free. You didn't understand how a girl that shows you as much love as she does could hurt you so bad.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Abby

Wife Abby

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hd-junglebook · 2 months

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Another One !

The Jack Hughes Masterlist

-It's my favorite one if you couldn’t tell-

message me to be added to the taglist.

On Thin Ice

Best Friends Brother AU

Jack Hughes is a douche to say the least. Not many girls can say they can resist his charm and fame but all of that changes when Jack sets his eyes on Y/n at a bar him and his teammates frequent after games. His attraction seems to only deepen once she befriends his younger brother Luke.

Part 1 , 2 discontinued

Will still write for this, I didn’t realize how much you guys like it 😭

Falling For It

Jack Hughes gets hurt on the ice in the middle of his game and gets sent to the hospital. Y/n his nurse avoids his boyish charms thinking they’ll never meet again until she meets his brother. Jack continues to pursue her and she's not arguing.

Part 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 final

It's always been you

(Childhood best friends, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Unrequited Love)

When do you finally accept that it's time to move on? When do you finally admit that everything you fought so hard to forget is exactly what you're meant to remember for the rest of your life? How long can he pretend that it hasn't always been you?

Part 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5

All I've Ever Known

the sarcastic and ambitious 22-year-old knows she needs a huge turnaround - or risk being cast aside like her previous miserable tenure with the New York Rangers.

Stuck between two worlds - her overly thirsty best friend pushing her to snag a hockey hunk boyfriend, and the crusty higher-ups demanding viral online fame without understanding how to think way outside the box. She begins cozying up with the team's resident cocky superstars like Jake Bellman and Jack Hughes to mine their charismatic personas for social media gold.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

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wongyuseokie · 6 months

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Better Than Me | Lee Seokmin; SMAU

Summary: You and Seokmin have been dating for a few years, but now you're the star of a new drama with your co-star Rowoon, which makes Seokmin insecure. Seokmin tries his best to be supportive and understanding, but sometimes it's too much, and you're both unsure if your relationship can survive the jealousy and fights.

Pairing: Idol! Lee Seokmin x Actress! Female Reader

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕ implied smut | ♥ completed works

Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: Idol AU! and Actress AU! Content Warnings: swearing, angst, jealousy, crying, mentions of a sprained ankle lol. Mentions of sex, food and snacks and Dispatch being public enemy number 1. Featuring the ever so handsome Rowoon. Also unnecessary Rowoon slander from Seokmin.

Smut Warnings: Mentions of multiple rounds and scratching.

Author's Note 1: thank you to the lovely @gyuwoncheol and thank you to my resident Seokmin lover @the-boy-meets-evil and my lovely wifey(s) @bitchlessdino @multi-kpop-fanfics ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank you guys for hearing me go on and on about this <3

Author's Note 2: This series will be released in 2024! (and yes i'm reposting this because the tag system was bothering me).

Author's Note 3: This is all fiction. ❤️

Authors Note 4: I know you're too humble, but this story would not exist without @gyuwoncheol I've wanted to make you co-author because you've inspired and helped me SO MUCH. But you won't let me, but I need you to know how much you mean to me. Thank you for being such a safe space for me to outlet and share updates and ideas. But importantly thank you for always making time for me. I adore you, my love. 🩷🩷🩷

Let me know if you wish to be tagged in this, I will only tag those who have their age visible on their profiles and are 18+.

Updates will be made daily.

Part 1: Tall Ass Rowoon ✔️ Part 2: Access Code ✔️ Part 3: Wires ✔️ Part 4: Fuck Dispatch ✔️ Part 5: #concerned ✔️ Part 6: Slutty Eyes ✔️ Part 7: Overworked PR Team ✔️ Part 8: Spiteful ✔️ Part 9: The Brightest Star ✔️ Part 10: Therapist Shua ✔️ Part 11: Emotional Support Teddy Bear ✔️ Part 12: Drunk On You ✔️ Part 13: Twice a Week ✔️ Part 14: Sweet Lies ✔️ Part 15: Hell ✔️ Part 16: Not Okay ✔️ Part 17: Test ✔️ Part 18: Hell 2.0 ✔️ Part 19: Irreparable ✔️ Part 20: Returned ✔️ Part 21: Locked Out ✔️ Part 22: Time Machine ✔️ Part 23: Lukewarm ✔️ Part 24: Fractured ✔️ Part 25: Hell 3.0 ✔️ Part 26: Last Chance ✔️ Part 27: To You (written) ✔️ Part 28: Forever ✔️ Epilogue ✔️

© wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved. Tag List: @dkluvrsclub @wooahaeproductions @seokgyuu @stayinhellevator @aaniag @the-boy-meets-evil @hoeforhao @here4kpopfics @ressonancee @seungkwansphd @tomodachiii @shadowyjellyfishfest @kyeomooniee @allmyl0ve17 @soupbinlily @randomworker @gyuminusone @onlyseokmins @strawberryya @meowmeowminnie @woozixo @jeonghansshitester @multi-kpop-fanfics @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @imprettyweird @shuasunshine @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @gyuhanniescarat @thepoopdokyeomtouched @joonsytip @hrts4hanniehae @highvern @buffhoshi @huening-kawaii @wonwoobestboyy

I'm tagging folks who I think would be interested/ have expressed their interest hehe)

#seventeen fic #seokmin fic #dokyeom fic #seventeen social media au #svthub #kvanity

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apomaro-mellow · 8 months

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Wrong Number 3

(2:21 am) I just realized something (2:21 am) Ur a cooking teacher (2:22 am) Who can't fry a egg (2:23 am) You're a fraud 🫵

[7:29 am] I can fry an egg just fine I just can't make the yolks runny. It's too hard to time it right. And why are you up thinking about eggs at 2 am?

(7:47 am) I was up thinking about you at 2 am

Steve felt his stomach flip as he sipped his coffee and set his belongings down in his classroom. Eddie didn't play games. He always said exactly what he was thinking. And it drew Steve wild.

(7:48 am) And about how your students might clown on you for not being able to scramble an egg

[7:49] Aww you're worried about me?

(7:49 am) Kids can be little monsters (7:50 am) Actually how old are the little monsters you teach?

[7:51] Youngest is 6 and oldest is 14. Speaking of, they'll be arriving soon so...

(7:52 am) Godspeed you academic warrior

Eddie didn't typically text so late on weeknights. Not since learning Steve was a teacher. It was just that he truly HAD been up and thinking of him. Steve drove him crazy and he thought he was doing a good job keeping a lid on it. 2 am texts were what happened when the lid got loose but Steve didn't seem put off by it.

At about half past three, Steve called him. Eddie was glad he made that leap with his first call. The sound of Steve's voice never failed to warm him through. Eddie was in the middle of collecting axes for sharpening at the end of his shift.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?", Eddie greeted as he picked up.

"Today was good. Had a really riveting conversation about meatloaf versus pate with the kids", Steve said.

"Meatloaf rocks and pate is just cold meatloaf for rich people. End of discussion."

"Well, we talked about it for like fifteen minutes. Had a real interesting tangent on forcemeats in general."

Eddie paused. "Excuse me?"

"You'd be surprised at what kids are into. This one I taught last year was really into rice-"

"I need you to backtrack just a bit. 'Forcemeat'?"

"Yeah it's-oh grow up", Steve chided while shaking his head. He had just gotten home and was taking off his work clothes for something more comfortable. He thought about what Eddie might think he'd look nice in. "Not even my 12 year olds are this childish."

There was something about the way Steve talked about his students. Like they were his actual children. The conversation continued for a few minutes more before Steve suddenly had to hang up. Eddie tried not to think much of it, but it wasn't the first time that it had happened.

Steve ended the call just as Robin came into the apartment. She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked to the phone in his hand. Steve hid it behind his back and winced at practically telling on himself.

"You're hiding something."

"No I'm not."

"And now you're lying to me."

"No I'm not!"

Robin pounced and wrestled him for the phone. It wasn't a real fight of course. Steve could've pinned her in seconds but a part of him was tired of keeping the secret. And obviously, she knew how to unlock his phone.

"Who's Eddie?", she asked, sitting on his back triumphantly.

"A guy."

"Thank you, I had no idea it could be a man's name. You've been texting him aaaaaaa llllllllllllot."

"Are you reading them!? Robin!"

"Where did you meet him?", Robin said as she got up, continuing to read through their conversations.

"I um, technically, haven't. Yet."

Robin gave him an odd look and Steve spilled everything to her. To her credit, Robin listened to the full story before throwing one of the couch pillows at him.

"Stephen Elliott Harrington! Did no one teach you stranger danger? You just kept texting him? And calling? And I saw the pictures you sent. You know he can find out where we live? What if I came home to your skinless corpse??!"

It went on for a while like that and when Robin was finished, she collapsed onto the couch. Steve sat across from her on the coffee table. He waited for her to silently process it all.

"You think he's cute?"

"What I've seen of him, yeah."

Robin sighed. "I can't believe you're turning into the guy who has a internet girlfriend."

Steve rolled his eyes but then balked when she started to read through his messages again.

"And I can't believe you haven't even started flirting yet."

"I've been flirting with him the whole time!" Maybe not the whole time but-

"You're giving him Diet Steve. Why are you holding back?"

Steve shrugged, looking sheepish now. Now Robin was rolling her eyes.

"Steve, we're getting you a date."

"But he's-"

"A virtual one. Jesus is he an axe murderer?", Robin said as she looked to one of the texts.

"No, he just works with them. Axes! Not murderers."

--------------------------------

Eddie was about to sit down to a movie when his phone buzzed.

[5:17 pm] Thinking about you.

Oh. Now that was some text to get.

(5:18 pm) Oh yeah? (5:18 pm) What about me?

Steve looked to Robin. They were sitting cross-legged next to each other on his bed.

"What do I say?"

"Be honest, duh."

"If I'm honest I'm gonna talk about his hands."

Robin shook her hands at him like she wanted to wring his neck. Steve got the idea and decided to put himself out there.

[5:21 pm] Your hands. I think about them a lot actually

Eddie had not given his own hands much thought. But knowing that Steve admired them, he gave them a second look. He thought about them gripping Steve's thighs.

(5:23) You're gonna make me blush (5:24) What would you do with my hands Stevie?

Steve panicked and looked to Robin. "Are we sexting? Is he getting me to sext?"

"That's the idea, dingus. I said I was getting you a date. Now tell him what you want him to do."

"I don't know I'd....I'd want to..." Steve trailed off, looking at his phone while the fingers of his other hand brushed against his lips.

Robin stole the phone from him again and started typing. "'First...I'd suck..on them'."

"Robin!"

"Is that not what you want?"

Steve shrugged and Robin continued. "You've got me on the clock for five more minutes before I go out. You dictate, I'll type."

Steve hated how much he liked the idea. Especially when he heard the ping of Eddie's reply. "What did he say?"

Robin cleared her throat. "'Yeah? You wanna suck on them? I bet you got a beautiful mouth.' Oh he's good."

"Yeah", Steve breathed out. "Really good." He thought about Eddie sticking his fingers in and pressing down on his tongue, his rings tasting metallic and so nice.

"'I wanna choke on them'", Robin said out loud as she typed. "Is it too soon to call him Daddy?"

"What?!" That snapped Steve out of it.

"Oh come on. Tattoos, the hair, his job. He wants to be called Daddy."

"Robin don't call him Daddy."

"Pops?"

Steve took his phone from her and looked to Eddie's reply.

(5:30 pm) I'd only choke you if you were being bad (5:30 pm) Are you gonna be bad baby?

[5:31 pm] Maybe. I can be good too. So good.

(5:32 pm) Lemme call you baby wanna hear you

Steve dialed without hesitation just as Robin was leaving. Her work was done.

"Don't get murdered while I'm out!", she shouted just as Eddie picked up.

"Hey pretty baby", Eddie said.

"Hey. You said you wanted to hear me?"

"Yeah. I wanna hear you say those things with your own voice."

"Like how I wanna choke on your fingers? Among other things?"

Steve could hear Eddie let out a breath on the other end. The power he felt right now was intoxicating.

"Bet you'd look so good on your knees."

Steve hummed while pressing his fingertips to his lips. If Eddie asked, he'd suck on them. Let the wet noises fill his ears, let Eddie know how good he could be.

"Darlin' you went quiet."

"I'm thinking", Steve said, laying down on his bed. "I wanna show you, Eddie."

Eddie swallowed. This man would be the death of him. He'd nearly jerked off to just a picture of his fully clothed lower half. If he saw more...if he saw everything-

"Eddie! We've got a Code Red!"

"Jesus! Knock!"

Steve sat up quick at the shouting coming from Eddie's end. It sounded like someone had barged in.

"Eddie?"

"Sorry. Sorry Steve. I gotta handle something. Um, call you back? Please?"

"Eddie, I want to video call you."

"V..video...?"

"Yes. I wanna see you. Please."

"Yes. Yes, a thousand times-hold your horses! Uh, tomorrow? It's Saturday, so you're free, right? Can we make it a date?"

"A date", Steve nodded. "I'll see you then. I'll be thinking of you."

"And I'll be counting the seconds. 1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one th-ouch! Okay! Damn!"

Eddie hung up and Steve still had the phone to his ear, smiling. He had a video call date. He had a date with Eddie!

Shit what should he wear?

Part 5

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #next part we're gettin steamy #when i 1st heard the word forcemeat i giggled

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