#fucking bitch the world won’t end if you just ask her ‘would you like to see mine?’

[how-gross]

7:31pm — September 6th, 2023

Me trying to convince myself that asking my best friend if she wants to see my senior photos is not selfish:

#the only reason I think it’s selfish is because she asked first and my brain is like #‘this is her time let her have her chance to shine’ #fucking bitch the world won’t end if you just ask her ‘would you like to see mine?’ #you already complimented her #and they were deserved because she looks stunning as always #why the fuck are you so scared pussy ass bitch #why? cuz u think ur ugly? #ur probs overreacting anyways #overthinking like alwyas #vent?? i guess #tw cursing

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : FWB!Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : Jeongin is an extreme asshole in this ; reader is pregnant ; lots of arguing ; one of those super cool fast forward moments so I don't keep reusing the same plot ; Jeongin sort of redemption ark but it came too late ; Word Count : 2.9k Request : no, but he's the last one! A/N : The last angsty dad in the series!!! Gonna miss writing these! Also, this one is definitely getting a part 2 which will have MORE angst but a happy ending.

“That was a nice prank you pulled, bud. Had the whole group laughing.” Jeongin muttered into his phone as he walked down the halls of the JYP building. “It’s not funny to fuck around like that though. Especially not at my job. I know that you don’t really give a shit though because your job isn’t as important as mine and something like this won’t fuck up your entire life, but… Ya know, can’t really have a scandal like that going around even if it is a joke.” 

“You done yet?” You asked, trying to hide your agitation at the belittling of your job and pretty much everything that you do, doing your best to hold it together just long enough to tell him that it wasn’t a prank, that it wasn’t some joke. “I haven’t seen you in 2 weeks, and I honestly couldn’t care less about seeing you… But I needed to let you know, and you suck at answering your phone. I’m pregnant, Jeongin.” 

If this was a scripted television show, they probably would have added in the sound of a record scratching just to emphasize the way Jeongin stopped dead center of the hallway, his eyes going wide and his heart feeling like it had frozen. “No the fuck you’re not. That shit isn’t mine if you are though.” You knew that this was exactly how it would go down, you weren’t the slightest bit shocked at the disregard and downright arrogant behavior he was exhibiting right now. “I mean, you obviously sleep around, it could be anyone’s kid. Not my problem. Don’t try to stick me with that shit.” 

“It is yours. If you want to do a paternity test, fine, but I honestly don’t give a damn if you’re around anyway.” You retorted, and you heard him scoff loudly as if he didn’t believe you. “It’s not like you’d be a good father. You’re never around. We weren’t even dating.” You continued, and you could tell that he was getting pissed off by your comments, the way his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth and he very loudly ran his hand through his hair. “I just wanted you to know that you will have a child in the world, although I’m sure this one isn’t the only one considering your track record.” 

“Have you always been this big of a bitch or is it the hormones?” He snapped, and you suppressed the chuckle that threatened to escape your pursed lips. “And I’ll have you know, I’d be a great fucking dad. I’d be there for him or her whenever they needed me. And don’t try to be a cunt and keep my kid from me either. I know you’re that type of person.” 

“Aww, baby bread sounds a little upset.” You mocked him, and you could tell he was seething, harsh breaths shooting through clenched teeth whistled through the speaker of your phone. “I thought you didn’t want to be stuck with this shit? Sounds like someone changed their mind.” 

“Fuck you. Set up the paternity test and let me know when it is. If that kid ain’t mine though… I’m fucking done with you.” Jeongin hissed, and before you could sarcastically comment back, he had hung up the phone. 

There was no doubt that the child was Jeongins though. You were quite loyal to your beneficial relationship, and while the agreement was that neither of you would catch feelings, it was kind of hard to not catch feelings. Jeongin was the biggest sweetheart behind closed doors when it was just the two of you together. Sometimes he made it feel like you were dating, but that bubble burst just as fast when he’d leave without a kiss goodbye. He didn’t have any feelings for you. You were simply there for his satisfaction and that was all. 

///

“I told you that you were the father.” You mumbled as the test results were handed to both you and Jeongin on separate papers. You didn’t need to stay in the doctor's office any longer though, you had gotten the answers that Jeongin wanted, and now you could leave. “Do with that information what you want, but I was serious when I said I didn’t need you. You don’t have to prove anything to me, and you don’t have to prove anything to the baby.” Was supposed to be the final remark as you got up and started to head out, but Jeongin was quick to follow after you. 

“You might think that I’m an asshole…” Jeongin began and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, walking faster now to try to get away from him, but it was easy for him to keep up. “Just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t mean that I don’t want anything to do with my kid. It’s my responsibility and my right to be a part of my kid’s life. You don’t get to decide whether I can or can’t be there.” 

“Thank you, Jeongin, for that… sweet sentiment. Make sure you tell all the reporters about what a nice guy you are so that all the fans will love you more.” You spat the words at him as you, quite aggressively, pushed open the door of the office. “I’ll keep you updated. Thank you for coming out today.” You started to walk towards the bus stop, but Jeongins hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged you back towards him. “The fuck are you doing?” 

“You’re carrying my child. You’re not riding the bus.” Jeongin said it as if it should have been obvious as he walked you towards the car that he had rode in. “Get in. And let me know when all of your appointments are so that I can have someone come pick you up and take you back home.” There wasn’t any emotion when he said it, it was all very bland, as if you should have known better than to take your usual way of transportation. 

“This is ridiculous…” You mumbled as you climbed into the backseat, but deep down, you were grateful that you didn’t have to hunt for a seat on the bus like usual. You’d be able to sit comfortably, at least for the next 8 to 9 months. “I still have to take the bus to work so I can afford my appointments and everything that I need.” 

“That job isn’t safe for you in your condition.” Jeongin said, still void of emotion. “I’m going to take care of my child, and my child is currently residing in you, therefore I’m going to take care of you as well. Again, you might think that I’m an asshole, but I’m not going to let you strain yourself and potentially lose the baby. I know it would hurt you, and whether you believe me or not, I’d be upset as well.” 

Although there wasn’t a hint of kindness in his tone, the words alone were enough to show that he did care. It was hard to hate him and be mad at him when acting like this, but you knew that it wasn’t because he cared about you, it was because he cared about the baby… And truthfully, that’s all you could really ask for. “Thank you…” 

///

“Why didn’t you call me first?” Jeongin asked, having spent the better half of his morning pacing the practice room, screwing up his dances, unable to focus at all due to the fact that you didn’t contact him like you usually would. Now that he finally had a break, he was able to call you, which shouldn’t even be a thing considering you didn’t have to work anymore and he was taking care of everything. The least you could do was keep up with the scheduled calls. 

“Because I woke up this morning and things just felt a little… weird… ya know…” You sarcastically stated back, and he hated the fact that you couldn’t just be clear with him. Everything had to have just the tiniest hint of sarcasm in it. You were 8 and a half months pregnant and his worries for the baby were through the roof. He didn’t know when you’d go into labor, he didn’t know anything, and of course, you just had to be a smartass. “So I’m in the hospital-” 

“Hold up! You’re what?!” Jeongin screeched, not even waiting to hear the reasoning behind your sudden trip, he just wanted to get to where you were as soon as humanly possible to make sure his baby is okay. “I told you to stop trying to clean the damn house by yourself. That’s what I hired the maids for. I hired literally everyone that I could to make this easier on you, yet you still act like a fucking idiot. What’s wrong with the baby? Is she okay?” 

“Don’t be a dick.” You huffed, and Jeongin could faintly hear the sound of a machine beeping during the short moment of silence. “Sorry that she doesn’t work around your schedule, but your daughter decided that she wanted to come out today. So, if you feel so inclined to do so, you can come see her be born. I’m not sure how much time you have, I’m already like… I think they said 5 centimeters dilated so… better haul ass.” 

And that he was. He never thought in a million years that he’d be skipping out on practice without even saying anything to one of the guys to watch his beneficial friend give birth to the daughter that he was already devoted entirely to. It was crazy how just the prospect of being a parent made him want to be a better version of himself. “Well tell the doctors to shove a cork in there or something, at least until I make it to the hospital. I’m not missing it.” 

“Will do, buckaroo.” He could just hear the eye roll that came along with it, but then he heard the sound of your pained, labored breathing, and the beeping of the machine sped up momentarily before going back to a steady rhythm. “Just hurry the hell up, I don’t think she’s waiting for anyone. She wants out.” 

///

Raising a child was hard, being an idol and a father at the same time was hard, but coparenting with the girl that you had managed to catch legitimate feelings for over the last 6 years was even harder. How could he not fall in love with you though? Watching you with his daughter was the most strangely attractive thing he’s ever witnessed, and he regretted not asking you to just be his officially when he first found out you were pregnant. That would have saved him from the feeling of jealousy and anger that he felt when you started going out on dates. 

“I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time on these low grade losers. You could do so much better.” Jeongin called to you from the living room as he sat at the makeshift table where he was currently being served Cheetos and a Caprisun by his daughter. “None of them are good enough to even get close to my baby anyway. I feel like I should have a say in who you potentially start bringing home around her, shouldn’t I?” 

You peaked your head out from around the bedroom door and he swears, he’s never seen you look more beautiful. He hated whatever guy was lucky enough to be going out with you right now. “Coming from the biggest eff word boy in the industry… I think that’s quite hypocritical of you.” You teased, sending him the most gorgeous, heart stopping smile, even though he knew it was supposed to irritate him, it only made his stomach fill with butterflies. 

“I’ve changed my ways. The only two beautiful girls I want to spend my days with are Jeongsoo and you.” He leaned back on his hands so he could try to see through the bedroom door where you were getting ready, hoping to see some kind of reaction, even just a smile at his flirtatious attempt. Sadly, Jeongsoo wasn’t too keen on the idea of not being the center of her fathers attention, so she walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder, his gaze quickly turning to look at her sassy, cross armed stance, trying hard not to laugh. 

“Dad. You are gonna go to tea party time out if you do not play right. Do you want to go to tea party time out with Mr. Oink?” She pointed her little finger into the corner of the room where her stuffed pig was sitting staring at the corner and Jeongin quickly shook his head no. “Good. No time out for you.” She nodded her head before going back to her play kitchen. She was almost a carbon copy of you, at least in the attitude department, but he absolutely adored her and he couldn’t imagine a world where she wasn’t sassily living in it. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind babysitting her? I know you’d rather be out with the guys right now.” You said as you came out of the bedroom, the little dress that you were wearing hugged all of your curves, and while Jeongin didn’t know anything about the guy that you were going out on a date with tonight, he hated everything about him. “I’ll pay you back tonight for watching her.” 

He rolled his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get up off the floor and go over to you and grab you by the waist and kiss you, but the thought of being in tea party time out was keeping him from doing so, especially since Mr. Oink had been staring at the corner for a good hour and a half now. “You don’t have to pay me for spending time with my daughter. It’s not even considered babysitting. I think you’re forgetting that she’s literally half me.” He commented, hoping that maybe pointing out the fact that the daughter that you both loved so much was the most perfect blend of the two of you would have you second guessing going on that date. 

“Well I’ll still pay you. I think the girls you hook up with at least deserve a good dinner before they find out they’re just your friend.” You teased, but he knew that was also a jab at the way he had gotten with you. He had only taken you to McDonalds once before taking you to his bedroom, and for that, he feels like shit because you did deserve better, you still do. “He’s here. I’ll be back in an hour or two…” You said, and he absolutely despised how giddy you looked to go out and meet this stranger who was most definitely not good enough for you. 

You ran over to where your daughter was still working at her play kitchen, ruffling her hair and then bending over to press a kiss to the top of her head before telling her you love her. “Call me if he does anything weird. I’ll have a guy from security pick you up. Just let me know where you are.” Jeongin said as you headed towards the door, and while you always thought that it was simply because he didn’t want anything happening to the mother of his child, it was because he didn’t want anything to happen to you. He loved you, and every single time you walked out that door to meet someone new, he was one step closer to never being with you at all. 

The door closed behind you and he let out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair before taking a sip of his juice box and falling flat onto the floor. “Daaad!” Jeongsoo whined when she heard his head land against the hardwood floor. “You getting sleepy? You didn’ even finish your cheetos.” She huffed softly, the sound almost like a recording of your own voice. “Whatchu wanna do now?” She asked, and Jeongin pushed himself up off the floor, scooping her up into his arms in the process. 

“Let’s watch a movie. Get Mr. Oink out of time out real quick though, I think he feels a little sad.” Jeongsoos mouth popped open in shock as she ran over to retrieve her forgotten stuffed animal before returning to the couch and sitting next to Jeongin. “We’ll watch a movie and eat some ice cream, and then it’s time for bed, okie dokie?” She nodded her head in agreement as Jeongin flipped through the movies on the tv. 

It was a good night, he tried to remind himself of that as his daughter peacefully slept curled up against him. The movie was turned down almost completely, the only sound filling the silence was Jeongsoos soft snores. He waited for the text from you, telling him to send someone to pick you up and bring you back home to him and your little family, but it never came. He didn’t want to go out with the guys tonight, he didn’t want to meet anyone else… All he wanted was you. How perfect the night could have been if you had been here, sitting opposite of Jeongsoo, his arm draped over the back of the couch to gently run his fingers through your hair as you both focused on the movie in front of you. That would never happen though. He was too scared to ask you now, and surely there would be someone else out there that you thought was more deserving of your love than he was… And maybe you would be right… He had let you go, and now he had to sit back and pretend that it didn’t break his heart each time he’d watch you leave. 

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[dovkss]

Dumb Bitch

word count: 5.8k

summary: after you pine after him for so long with no luck, Katsuki finally decides to take you as his; thanks to his best friend.

warning: 18+; mean dom! katsuki; dirty talk (ish); oral (m receiving); rough sex; spitting; choking; breath play; degradation; hair pulling; manipulation; dacryphilia; edging; size kink; misogyny; yandere tendencies; kinda ooc, I was having a lot of fun with this one; kinda dubcon-ish?, reader is drunk for the most part; katsuki is an ass; poor eijiro won’t take no for an answer and ends up getting fucked over bc of it; katsuki and ei are basically frenemies

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: my first published fic on this blog omg !! sorry for any mistakes or anything, I kinda rushed this but I enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it :)

Kirishima stood in the middle of his room with his phone in his hand as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew of your little crush on his best friend and he couldn’t help but want to play cupid. He had the perfect plan, all he needed to do now was execute it. Sure, he knew Bakugou's disdain for you ran deep, but he also couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there could be something more.

Dialing your number, he chuckled to himself, imagining the reaction he’d get out of you. It wasn't long before the ringback tone was cut off by the call connecting. Immediately you greeted him with a voice filled with joy, as usual.

“Hi, Kiri!” you greeted.

“Hey hey! How’s it going?” he asked.

You hummed in delight. He heard tiny giggles in the background. “Great,” you exclaimed. “The girls and I are having a sleepover right now… if you wanna talk to Mina, she’s right here- fuck!”

From the sound of it, you were hit as a sign to shut up. Kirishima chuckled at your guys’ antics. “Well, this is easy enough knowing you’re all in one place! I’m throwing a little get-together this weekend, I want you all to be there!”

It got a little quiet on the other end of the line, the only thing being heard is some shuffling and slight whispers.

“Hmm, who’s all gonna be there?” you asked curiously.

Kirishima smiled. “He’s gonna be there.”

He could almost hear the collective gasp that came from you and your friends. Then it went dead silent. You muted yourself. The redhead imagined your guys’ squeals.

You cleared your throat, going back to trying to act normal, and unmuted yourself. “Count us in, Kiri!” you exclaimed. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Everything was going to plan. You and he said your goodbyes before the call ended. Kirishima couldn’t help but wear a satisfied grin. He knew he had sparked a glimmer of hope within you. The idea of igniting a connection between you and Bakugou excited him. But it was soon dampened when Bakugou stormed into the room with a couple of cans of soda in his hands.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

Kirishima knew he couldn’t lie to him. Bakugou knows when he lies. Bakugou set the sodas on the wood floor and grabbed two cans. He tossed one to his friend and opened up his own. He sat on Kirishima’s bed, facing him, awaiting an answer.

Kirishima popped his soda open and took a sip. The room was filled with tense silence, even if it was for only a moment. “I just invited some last-minute people to the party,” he said.

True.

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed. His intense gaze radiated intense annoyance. “Who?” he questioned some more.

Kirishima winced playfully at Bakugou’s usual harsh response. He would rather intend to pique the ash blonde’s curiosity rather than ignite his ire.

"Don't worry about it, bro. We'll see everybody there!"

For the first time, Bakugou wanted to be wrong. He shook his head in disapproval before chugging down some more of his soda. "You're a fucking idiot, Kirishima. I thought you knew better than to invite her."

Kirishima squinted at Bakugou. "I get that you don't like her, but you're also being way too quick to judge. Get to know her a little better, she isn't who you think she is."

Bakugou scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You think I would waste my time on someone like her? You should know me better than that."

"I just think that maybe-"

"That fucking shallow, attention-seeking whore. I have no interest in girls like her."

Kirishima's expression softened, his voice gentle but firm. "Not cool, man. She's still my friend," he started, "and I think you watch too many movies. Not every girl that cares about how they look on the outside is some dumb bitch."

Bakugou's scowl deepened, frustration etched on his face. "I don't need you playing matchmaker, Kirishima. I can take care of myself."

Kirishima sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine! I'll let it go!" He then offered a small smile to defuse the tension. "Let's focus on getting this shit ready. We need to go out and buy some cups and food and... whatever else I can't think of on the spot right now!"

Bakugou grumbled in agreement. "Whatever. Let's get this shit over with."

Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor of the library as you anxiously scanned the aisles of the bookshelves. You were searching for Kirishima and you were in a bit of a rush.

Earlier that morning while you were packing your purse, you realized your beloved wallet, adorned with sparkling rhinestones, wasn't on your vanity. You would never dare forget it; you relied on it because it had every card you could think of in there. And some backup cash.

You rummaged through other bags and drawers, panic rising within you. It was one of your most treasured possessions, something your mother gave you as a gift before you left for college. You desperately needed that wallet, especially now, with an important event just hours away.

Realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You remembered opening it to pay the pizza delivery man at Kirishima's house the previous day when you were studying with him and the girls. You must've left it behind. You were so stupid!

With a sigh of frustration, you dialed Kirishima's number from your backup flip phone since your main phone was dead. Your fingers trembled lightly as you held it up to your ear, you hoped beyond hope that he had seen it. You didn't expect him to pick up because he wouldn't possibly recognize the number but he did.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Kiri! Hi, how are you? Good? That's great," you greeted eagerly, "um, do you by any chance know if I left my wallet at your place?" You rocked back and forth as you shoved your purse into the front seat of your car, putting your key into the ignition.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Oh, that's yours? The one with a bunch of glitter… crap on it? Yeah, I have it on me right now actually." he said.

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Great, can I pick it up from your right now? I'm kind of in a hurry..."

He chuckled. "Of course! I'll be on campus for a couple more hours, just swing by the library."

With a renewed sense of purpose, you drove to campus. It took you way longer than usual due to traffic, but you made it nonetheless.

You made it to the library and began scanning the room, looking for your friend. The scent of old books filled the air, and the hushed whispers of students studying added an aura of calmness.

You spotted Kirishima in a corner, engrossed in a thick textbook, writing down notes as well, and you made your way toward him. As you approached, your eyes inadvertently fell upon a figure sitting next to him doing the same.

A slightly taller man with spiky blonde hair. You could tell by the way he sat, he was undeniably arrogant. Katsuki Bakugou.

Your heart skipped a beat and a nervous flutter ran through you. You'd heard rumors of his fiery personality. His ability to put anyone who dared to cross his path in their place. You were very curious about him.

"Kiri!" you chirped, flashing a bright smile.

Kirishima looked up from his book and returned the kind gesture. He put his finger up to his lips, reminding you that they were still in a library. You quietly apologized and laughed at yourself.

"It's in my bag, hold on," he whispered. He picked up his backpack from the floor next to him, unzipping it to go through the contents inside.

Your gaze wandered across the library. You tried your best to not look at Bakugou. It was hard not to, though, he was very handsome. Finally, you gave in and turned your attention to him.

You offered a tentative smile. "Hi there! I don't think we've met before."

Bakugou's piercing gaze met yours. He was unimpressed and regarded you as if your presence irritated him. Unbeknownst to you, it did.

Your smile faltered for a moment, but you refused to let his cold demeanor deter you. "I'm a friend of Kirishima's-"

"I know who you are," he responded curtly, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was so intimidating and so attractive. "Katsuki Bakugou, right? I've heard a lot about you."

His dirty look became more prominent. "Yeah, I've heard enough about you too."

Your heart sank a little at his words. What did he hear? You weren't aware of any rumors of you or anything, and you were kind to everyone. The dummies, weirdos, everyone!

Kirishima chimed in. "Be nice, man," he said as he got up with your wallet in his hand. He handed it to you and you took it from him.

"Thanks so much, Kiri," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. "You have no idea how much I rely on this thing."

He shook his head, his smile showcasing his sharp teeth. "Don’t we all!"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your reflection in your little compact mirror. "You saved the day, yet again, Kiri. I owe you one."

Ever since then, you got to know more about Bakugou thanks to Kirishima. How despite what many would believe, he's organized, and a clean freak. How much he hates being around kids yet are so great with them. Just how well he can play the drums or cook.

You thought you were subtle but it was obvious that you longed for Bakugou. It wasn't your fault he was everything you wanted in a man.

He had it all. Hardworking, determined, and confident. It was so sexy. The only problem was that he didn't seem interested at all. If anything, he seemed to despise you. To him, you were just an annoying bug that kept coming back even after being swatted at.

You wanted to win him over. When you knew you would be around him, you purposefully dressed a little sexier. Bending over to grab things even while wearing the shortest skirt that barely covered your ass and tight shirts to enhance your chest and waist.

Bakugou didn't even spare you a sympathetic glance. But you kept going. Tonight was the party and this was your last chance. If you couldn't even do as much as strike up a conversation with him, you told yourself you'd give up. You were too pretty for all this effort to be put into a man. But god, he was so hot.

Your anticipation grew as you and your friends approached Kirishima's house. The usually quiet neighborhood was transformed into a hive of activity. Cars lined the streets and the sound of laughter and music spilled from the open windows. What was meant to be a "get-together" had turned into a Project X party.

"Todoroki, could you go any damn slower?" Mina complained, her seat belt already off.

"You want me to run over these people?" he asked. You giggled, knowing his question was literal.

Mina groaned in annoyance, mumbling a small 'no.' Momo was in the front seat next to her boyfriend. "Don't listen to her, she's just a little impatient."

Finally, Todoroki got you guys to the front of the house. You were the first to get out, followed by Mina coming out behind you. Momo kissed her boyfriend. Then gave him another kiss. Then another.

Mina whined loudly. "Oh my god, Momo! He's just going to park the car! He's not leaving you, come on!"

You leave them behind in silence. As you pushed open the front door, the energy hit you like a tidal wave. Every inch of the house was packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. The air was thick with alcohol, weed, and the hum of people trying to converse over the loud music.

You looked around, mouth agape. You didn't even notice Mina and Momo by your side. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.

Mina leaned in closer to be heard above the noise. "This place is insane!" she exclaimed, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.

Momo nodded in agreement. "I don't think any of us expected this. Kirishima sure knows how to throw a party."

Your eyes scanned the room in search of the boy. You caught a glimpse of his familiar red hair through the crowd and motioned for your friends to follow.

It was a challenge to move through people. Your face scrunched up in disgust as the air grew warmer. The smell finally getting to you, it was gross. Sweaty bodies rubbed against you as you made your way through. You gagged. The once cozy house had transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

Finally reaching Kirishima's side, you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted you. It took you a moment before realizing he was shirtless. And his hair wasn't done how it usually was. It was messy and wet.

"What happened here? This was supposed to be a small get-together!" you asked, evidently in disbelief.

Kirishima laughed. "I know! It got a bit out of hand! But hey, more people, more fun, right? By the way, you look gorgeous!"

You wore a corset dress. The bodice was designed with pretty lacing and the mini skirt boasted a slit on each side. The white set was complete with thick stilettos and makeup that accentuated your natural features.

You felt your face get hot and you smiled, giving him a little twirl to show off your outfit. Kirishima dog whistled playfully and handed you a plastic red cup. You looked inside and sniffed it. Alcohol. Strong, strong alcohol.

Taking what Kirishima said, you and your friends were immersed in the lively atmosphere of the party. You all danced; twirling and spinning, laughter blending in with the melodies as you lost yourself.

With a drink in each of your guys' hands, your inhibitions further dissolved, and you found yourselves caught in a whirlwind of euphoria. You clinked cups, toasting to the night, and gulped down the concoction.

Your mind was no longer consumed by thoughts of Bakugou. The weight of your infatuation was lifted, replaced with a sense of liberation. You reveled in the present moment, finding comfort exactly where you were.

Time lost its grip and you were having fun. By the time you were worn out, your cheeks were flushed and the warmth of the alcohol coursed through your veins, the effects beginning to take a toll on your mind and body. What was just an exhilarating atmosphere now seemed overwhelming, your energy dwindling with each passing moment. Your giggles faded and were replaced with yawns that you couldn't stifle.

Kirishima approached you with a concerned look. He gently placed a hand on your head, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "You are exhausted..."

You closed your eyes for a tiny bit of rest and your ability to hold yourself up became harder and harder. Kirishima shooed away some random person off the couch to make some room for you. He helped you sit up and made sure you were comfortable before going to look for his blonde best friend.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima called out over the music. He approached the guy who sat in the corner of the party, a group of people Kirishima had never seen before was surrounding his friend.

He pushed through the small crowd. "I need your help."

Bakugou blinked at the lack of explanation. "With what?"

Kirishima nudged his head toward where you were sitting. Bakugou's eyes followed only to see your state. You looked sick and stiff, almost as if you were dead. He groaned, taking a swig of his beer. "Not my problem-"

"She's fucking tired! Just help me take her to my room so she can get some rest!" Kirishima's expression didn't waver as he pressed on. "I know we aren't exactly getting along right now, but I can't do this alone."

A mixture of irritation and reluctance flickered across Bakugou's face. His jaw clenched, the internal conflict was visible in his tense posture. After a brief moment, he finally relented.

"If she pukes on me, I'm killing both of you," he grumbled.

Together, Kirishima and Bakugou made their way through the crowded room. Bakugou downed the last of his drink before tossing it somewhere he couldn't see. He watched Kirishima pull you up from the couch, your tired form leaning on him for support and your eyes struggling to stay open.

Bakugou's mind wandered back to all the instances when you had made your attempts to catch his attention. He'd seen your efforts, dismissing them as frivolous and uninteresting. But up until recently, recognition stirred within him.

“F-fuck! Katsuki!”

The boy groaned in response. His thrusts didn’t let up even for a moment. He had her in doggy style, making sure to go deep inside her with his long strokes. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her in place as her upper half wriggled around in pleasure.

Bakugou was turned off by her horrible acting. It was worse than a pornstar’s. At this rate, he knew he wouldn’t cum at all despite her already cumming for the first time.

The girl wasn’t ugly, she just wasn’t his type. Too vanilla for someone like him. He needed to rough someone up without worry. To grab someone by the neck and push their head into his pillow. To make someone take his big dick in full as they plead for mercy.

You were that someone.

He imagined pulling your hair and lifting you against him, your sweating bodies pressed against each other. How he’d throw you back down and pound into you from behind relentlessly. How you’d look back at him, unrecognizable with your makeup smudged and messed up, his hand rubbing along your back, up and down.

“Please… too big!” you’d bed.

He wanted badly to shake those thoughts away but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes to imagine more of what he’d do to you. Before he knew it, the thoughts set him off.

He pulled out of the girl and stroked a bit before cumming on her backside. She breathed in and out heavily, trying to catch her breath. She also began to touch herself so she can cum a second time

Bakugou didn’t help. He was busy thinking about you. Thinking about your lips, eyes, curves, and smell. You. You. You. He wanted you all for himself. But he knew your type; sweet on the outside, secretly hoping to be given a chance to play others to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to play that game.

That night haunted him for weeks. When you came around, he went out of his way to avoid coming in contact with you. In his room, he would hear your voice ask: “What’s wrong with him?”

Kirishima would respond: “He’s been this like for a minute, but I’m not pushing it.”

Later that night, after you left, Kirishima knocked on Bakugou’s door. In one of his hands, he had a bowl of food that he cooked the day before.

“You’ve been in your room all day, bro! You need to help me set up!” he said.

Bakugou examined the boxing glove on his left hand. He wiggled his fingers only to realize it was way too stiff. Now he needed new gloves.

“M’ not hungry.”

Kirishima opened the door anyway and approached the boy, putting the dish on his desk. He looked at Bakugou and crossed his arms. "Something botherin' you, man?"

Bakugou huffed. Kirishima may have been a little slow, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell when his best friend is off.

Kirishima sighed. "(Y/n) and I noticed that you've been kinda distant lately. You barely come around anymore."

"Why is she always mentioned whenever we talk?"

Kirishima was taken aback. He raised an eyebrow.

Bakugou finally stood up, looking him dead in the eyes. "It's obvious you have a thing for her.

Kirishima stammered, unsure of how to respond. "I mean- I care about her as a friend, just like I do you. There's nothing more to it."

"You're always by her side, looking out for her, protecting her. Like you're fucking obsessed with her! It's pathetic!"

Kirishima shook his head in disbelief. "Just because I'm being a good friend doesn't mean I have ulterior motives. If you can't see that, then maybe you're the one with the problem here!"

Bakugou's body blazed with irritation. "You're fucking jealous that she pays more attention to me than she does to you."

Kirishima's jaw tightened. Immediately Bakugou knew he struck a nerve.

"Face it, Kirishima. She isn't interested, so back off. You're nothing compared to me."

Without another word, Kirishima turned on his heel, standing tall and steps firm as he walked away from the blonde. "Party is in three hours. Be ready."

Bakugou couldn't help but get another jab in as he listened to Kirishima mumble insults before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Stop worrying about me and start worrying about how you're gonna get your bitch off my dick!"

A wry smile formed on Bakugou’s lips as he recalled the telltale signs that hadn’t gone unnoticed before. Kirishima’s subtle glances in your direction, the way his eyes would light up whenever you entered the room, how his cheeks turned pink whenever you laughed at his jokes.

Bakugou knew his friend wouldn’t admit that he liked you, but he also knew you didn't know. You were nothing but a dumb bitch.

As they reached Kirishima's room, Bakugou held the door open, allowing Kirishima to guide you inside due to your unsteady steps. The room was untouched, bathed in a warm, inviting glow like it always had. It offered a haven of tranquility, opposite of the chaotic activities going on downstairs.

Kirishima led you to his bed, helping you settle down with gentle care. "Thanks. I'll stay with her for a bit. You can head back to the party if you want-"

He was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. His eyes widened. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He got up and rushed out the door without an explanation, only a ‘be right back!’

Bakugou watched him go and contemplated leaving himself. Then he looked at you, your chest softly rising up and down and you breathe. He sighed and went to close the door before sitting down next to your resting body. He traced his fingertips down the side of your arm.

“You want me so bad, don't you?" he asked. But it was more of a rhetorical question.

Suddenly you nodded softly. "Y-Yeah..."

Oh, you were awake. Bakugou's eyes furrowed.

"More than anything..."

"Then prove it," he growled. "Prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."

Barely conscious, you didn't understand what he meant, but as the alcohol faded, your sense came back to you. Your willingness to do anything to win Bakugou over was back and took over your mind in an instant.

You began to unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. Bakugou watched you with a cold, calculating gaze.

"You think that's enough?" he scoffed. "You really are a dumb bitch who doesn't know anything."

Your eyes filled with tears. You'd never been spoken to like that before. Yet, something about it made you hot. His coldness and brutality made you rub your thighs together.

"Please, Bakugou," you pleaded.

Bakugou then shook his head as he began to knead your thigh. "Call me Katsuki."

You smiled. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. He saw you. He noticed you. He's into you.

"Please, Katsuki," you whispered. "Tell me what you want me to do..."

His hand kept moving all over your body. Your heart pounded in your chest, scared of what his response may be. But he never said anything, he just eyed you.

Looking you up and down, his index and ring fingers grazing over your lips. Suddenly, he popped them into your mouth. As if it was a reflex, you wrapped your lips around them, sucking on them sightly. He caught you off guard when he pressed against the bottom of your tongue, making you gag. You turned your head, hoping he'd pull away.

Bakugou chuckled. "Get up for me, baby, and strip."

He let you sit up but not before wiping your saliva off his fingers onto your cheek. You slowly stood in front of him, holding onto his shoulders for support. He leaned back, trying to get a better view of your full body.

Slowly you began to remove your clothes. You felt exposed. Way more vulnerable than you ever had before. You avoided his hungry gaze.

"You know..." he began.

You looked up at him, not stopping the motions of getting undressed.

"Kirishima likes you."

You smiled. "I like him too. He's a good friend."

Bakugou wanted to laugh in your face. Your naivety was cute. He decided to be nice and only nodded in agreement. He watched intensely as the article of clothing dropped to the floor. His eyes studied your undergarments. It was a matching set, in pink. Of course. He felt himself twitch.

He sat up and extended his arm out to your cheek, lightly caressing it. "That's not what I meant."

In a flash, he let go of your face to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it back roughly. You whimper, your eyes shut tight. Your hands follow his actions, trying to pry him off.

"Aah! Katsuki, it hurts!" you winced in pain.

"Awe. Awe, it hurts? Yeah?" he mocked your tone before chuckling. "Can't even handle a little hair pulling."

He stood up, towering over you. He pushed you down slowly to your knees, praising you for your compliance. You shivered due to your bare body being exposed to the cold air.

With his other hand, he unbuckled his pants and unzipped himself. You listened to his pants fall and lightly bit your lip. Suddenly your face was pushed forward, being pressed into something hard.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Bakugou. You could see his rock-hard cock through his clean underwear. It curved slightly to the side and he was awfully big... and long... and thick.

You weren't a virgin but you weren't very experienced either. You'd never seen one so big before. You doubted that you were able to take that in any capacity. Not in your mouth, not in your pussy either, but you wanted so badly to impress him.

You rubbed your cheek against his dick, making him breathe out slowly. Bakugou pushed your head aside, harsher than he expected, and pulled down his underwear. He grabbed you by your cheeks and looked you in the eyes.

You were so beautiful like that. On his knees for him. Under him, below him; where you were meant to be.

Grabbing his cock, he slaps it against your face before pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to smoothly slip it in.

"Ahh... shit..." he groaned as the warmth of your mouth took in his cock. You try to work your tongue around him as best as you could, his cock barely being able to fit in your mouth.

He gripped your hair in his fist as he began to move against your face, making you choke. The lipgloss you wore had been smeared, staining your mouth; your mascara ran down your cheeks as your eyes watered every time his cock slammed the back of your throat.

"Look at you. Eagerly swallowing my cock- fuck! Such a slut," he sighed.

Bakugou began to go faster, not giving you any time to take a break. You'd never been face fucked before, let alone roughly. Your gagging became more audible whenever your nose brushed against his pubes. You needed air, but he didn't give you any time to take a break.

You slapped his thigh a couple of times, trying to signal him. He understood; he just didn't care. Finally, he showed some mercy and pulled your hair back to allow you to breathe.

You gasped and cough. You let out unsteady breaths and it was hard for you to catch up to your normal pace of breathing. This didn't last very long though as Bakugou pried open your jaw, shoving his fingers in your mouth once again, this time reaching your throat. You choked again, more tears falling from your face. He kept his hand there for a few seconds, studying your pathetic attempt to please him. When you began to cough again, he pulled out.

"Impressive. Where'd you learn that?"

You felt your body growing even more tired than it was before. You opened your mouth to breathe, only for him to spit directly into it.

"Swallow."

You obeyed. His saliva slid down your throat with ease as you swallowed, and then you opened your mouth to show him. He smirked and stood up. You watched him lift you onto Kirishima's bed, positioning your head to dangle off the bed, facing the closed door.

You felt his tall, strong body leaning over yours as his mouth explored every inch of your skin. His fingers, still soaked with your saliva, slid off your panties and ran along your entrance. You were undeniably wet, and it was embarrassing. How easily you got wet. Bakugou thought it was adorable.

At first, his fingers rubbed just on top of your throbbing clit. You moan out softly, your hands moving down to his hair, playing with it a little. Your back arched at the sensation, causing him to push down your hips to keep you still.

"Look at yourself whoring out for me. You should be ashamed," he said.

He was right. You should have been ashamed. But... you weren't. You couldn't think straight, all you wanted in that moment was for him to be inside of you.

You lifted your head to watch him only for it to be put back down as his lips came up to kiss your neck. His fingers went faster, and you felt yourself squeeze around him. More moans came out of you as you concentrated.

His kisses, his fingers, his hot breath, his body.

His kisses, his fingers, his hot breath, his body.

Kisses, fingers, hot breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath-

"M' gonna cum!" you cry out.

Bakugou faced you, his sharp canines showing as he laughed at you. You threw your head back and he lowered his face to nibble on your neck. You mumbled out incoherent words, on the verge of cumming.

A loud moan comes out of your mouth and immediately Bakugou pulls out. Your eyes widen, looking at him.

"No, no, no," you whined.

He ignored you and slapped his juices-covered hand over your face, pushing your head down yet again. It was too much for you. The pain of the bite on your neck went unnoticed when he forced his hips in between your legs, pulling you against him. He lined up his swollen cock with your cunt, slapping it a little. You moaned as he got himself wet with your juices mixed in with his precum.

He entered you without a warning and you screamed at the discomfort. You put your hands on his chest, whining. "Go slow, please!"

His gaze at you visibly softened. "You want me to be gentle, hm?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Y-yeah... yeah..."

He whined just like you did. "Yeah? You want me to be soft with you? Help you adjust to my big dick?"

You repeated yourself. He smiled, carefully moving some strands of hair from your face. "You're so cute."

He slammed into you, instantly making you wail. His thrusts were slow, but hard. It hurt so bad. You whine in pain as his fingers went down to play with your clit again, laying a couple of smacks on your cunt.

Tears streamed down your face. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Your cunt was already sensitive, now paired with Bakugou's hand around your throat, and the pain slowly letting up, you felt so good. You were in heaven.

Bakugou's groans mixed in with your moans filled the room along with the sound of his balls slapping against you as his thrusts became even harder, you couldn't help but be loud, it wasn't like anybody could hear you. Your pussy throbbed around his cock and your back began to arch. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your orgasm. And he noticed it.

He slowed down a bit. You were a little grateful as you were finally able to take him comfortably. But you questioned his change of pace.

"You know," he panted, "Kirishima wants us together."

You continued to moan, only murmuring over and over again how big his dick was, barely listening.

"He always talked about me and you- ugh...! Getting together..." he revealed. "Probably something he wants the most..." He lifted your head, putting his forehead to yours. "Let's do him a favor, yeah?"

The tightness on your throat grew tighter, cutting off your airflow, and his thrusts started to become harder again. Your eyes widened as your body struggled under his.

He whispered in your ear while increasing the pace of his strokes. "Be mine, baby. Cum all over my cock."

So you did. Your legs began to shake as your lungs begged for oxygen. Your orgasm was intense, your body squirming uncontrollably. He groaned as your pussy clenched around him for the last time. To be fair, he let go of your throat and your head went flying back over the edge of the bed.

You were officially head over heels for him. You would do anything to stay with him, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness and well-being. And you had a feeling he knew this.

The doorknob of the bedroom turned and the door opened. "Someone broke the damn vase with the-"

Kirishima.

He examined the scene before him, his breaths slowly becoming inaudible and his heart pounding in his chest.

Bakugou’s gaze snapped towards Kirishima, a smirk flashing across his face. "Kirishima. We didn't expect you to come in."

Kirishima ignored him, only focusing on you. His eye twitched as he took note of your cock drunk daze. You smiled innocently at him, your chest pumping up and down deeply.

"Kiri... I don't owe you one anymore."

He clutched his hands together, his knuckles turning white.

"You dumb bitch."

#bnha smut #bnha bakugo #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsukibakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #mha fanfiction #dark content #yandere boku no hero academia #katsuki smut #dark writing #tw dubcon #yandere bakugou #yandere blog #tw yandere #yandere #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader

[yellowharrington]

jaded - chapter 4, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking mention, minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: ok literally i am the worst ever and i totally didn't finish this fic even tho i started it so im finally posting the last part literally MONTHS later!!! sorry besties but i couldn't have an unfinished fic out there in the world so... if u fuck w this story at all thank u for reading it and all the encouraging and nice things people have said, it literally made me want to complete this fic so thank u <3

summary: tying up loose ends.

and it's a fuckin' shame that it ended like that you broke your own heart, but you'd never say that we went to hell, but we never came back

masterlist | chapter 3

It all just feels numb.

Sun coming up over the horizon and a light snowfall onto the street below. Your home is quiet, no pans in the kitchen making French omelettes, no TV playing outside the bedroom door as you sleep. No toothbrushing in the bathroom or running shower water, warm and steamy, inviting you in.

It’s not that you weren’t expecting his answer. Or, lack thereof. It’s that he couldn’t make up his fucking mind. First, he’s cooking you an omelette in your favourite pan with a cup of coffee made exactly the way you like it. He’s spending every evening on the couch with you, your hands splayed out against his stomach, comfortable beneath the waistband of his sweats. You’re in his sweater, baking fresh warm cookies so he can have one before bed, smudges of chocolate against your lips as he pushes you up against the counter, hot skin on cold tile.

Next, he has that look on his face, where he’s somewhere else. Thinking of her, in a dreamland where he can make it right again, and it all feels like it comes crashing down. The sweet nothings don’t exist in this realm, there’s no happiness here.

And when you do have to face him on Monday, it’s back to cold shoulder, nothing different. Yes chef, no chef, thank you chef. 

Sydney tries to make conversation, and you feel bad because you won’t bitch about Carmy like you usually would. Richie’s having secret meetings with Natalie, probably more about Claire, but you don’t even think to join in. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, and it’s hard enough to go outside and take a fucking break from it all, let alone be in the same cramped kitchen with him. There’s no solitude, just aching, just disappointment.

“Did you order me a new cake pan, chef?” It’s directed at Tina, who looks up at you with the same wistful softness as she always does, smiling before nodding in your direction. You don’t hear her slide over to you, but when she suddenly appears at your station, you can tell she just knows something’s wrong.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, clipboard finding it’s way to the counter beside you, where a piping bag lays. “You’re not yourself. Something… wrong. Don’t tell me a boy did this to you.” The tears prick at your eyes and you swallow it all before you can get out a word, because yeah, it all fucking aches and the hurt feels like it’s sitting right behind your eyes, in your throat, ready to come out.

“It’s nothing. It is a boy but, boys are stupid and I’m not gonna cry over one,” you sniffle, before untying your apron and letting it hang loose on your body. “Not worth it.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your blood runs cold when she gestures just outside to the bright light of the door, where Carmy sits, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other.

Luckily the kitchen is empty when you reply, only so she can hear, “how did you know?”

“I saw the way you looked at him this morning.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Fuck no. Between you and me, chef.”

You sighed relief, letting your front hit the counter as the stress left your body. “Thank fuck. Yeah, I don’t know, we were-“

“Fuckin’?” Tina’s got a sly smile on her face that makes it impossible not to laugh with her.

“Yeah, I guess. It felt like more than that. But apparently he’s still hung up on Claire so, I guess that ends it.”

She exhales slowly, joining you in a lean against the counter. “Jeff makes mistakes, everyone knows that. He’s moody and sad and he’s got fuckin’ problems, that kid, I tell ya.” She pauses for a second, eyes meeting yours, sincere. “But he’s good. I just don’t think he can handle himself, is all.” She takes a beat, letting her soft hand lay over yours, “He doesn’t let himself have the good shit because it always gets ruined. But you’re good. He’s scared of you.”

“He should be scared of me. I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you mutter, letting your floured hand meet your forehead in annoyance. “I’m not responsible for fixing his shit.”

She nods, agreeing with you, a hand cupping yours on the counter. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying he could use someone like you to bring him back to Earth, is all.”

-

When Carmy does make it back inside, he’s thumbing through paperwork at the desk, hand through his hair stressfully pulling at the strands. He’s trying so hard not to stare at you from where he’s sitting, noticing your cold gaze, somewhere far away. He takes out his phone to scroll through it mindlessly, procrastinating, when he meanders his way to the text icon and opens up your thread. A few texts here and there, mostly just asking about plans to come over, the occasional sexy photo or recipe idea.

[sunday, 10:26] they don't have fresh sourdough. should we just make some this aft?

[saturday, 4:35] i hate when you go in on saturdays

[saturday, 4:36] Photo Recieved

[saturday 4:36] don't you wish you were home with me?

[tuesday, 12:22] is balsamic glaze overdone? lmk. miss u.

It feels a little too domestic, seeing the way he so effortlessly became comfortable with you, a warmth and excitement that was just never there with Claire. It’s raw and it’s guilty and he’ll beat himself up over it forever, but it was never going to be perfect with her, no matter how hard he tried.

“Boss?”

Richie appears in the office, leaning against the door frame before noticing Carmy’s disheveled look. “Yeah?”

“You look worse than usual.”

���Thanks. What do you need?”

“Well, I was gonna ask if you ordered more eggs.”

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think Sydney did.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

It’s like Richie could see right through him.

“Nothin’. Stupid shit.”

Richie steps into the office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

“Cousin.”

Richie can be sweet when he wants to be, and when he’s got a hand on Carmy’s shoulder and a somber look in his eyes it’s like he already knows how Carmy feels.

“Why do I suck so bad at being a fuckin’ normal person?”

Richie sits next to him, a look of surprise. “Is this about Claire bear?”

“Yes, well - yeah, and also no. Kinda. I don’t know.”

“Is it about Miss Buttercream out there?”

He gestures to you outside the door, zesting some orange on top of the cake you were finishing up. Carmy stifles a laugh.

“We all know you’re porkin’ her.”

“Don’t say that,” Carmy laughs, hand coming up to his face to rub his eyes. “It’s more than that. We’ve been kinda, dating, I guess? I still don’t know what counts as having a girlfriend.”

“So what did you do?”

He gnaws at the skin of his thumb and lets his eyes flicker up to Richie’s. “Fucked it. Last night, I, uh,-“ his hand finds his warm forehead. “I really like her, like a lot. But she asked about Claire and I said the wrong thing, like I always do and uh, she didn’t like it.”

“She’s good,” Richie starts, letting his hands find his aproned thighs as he sits at the corner of the desk. “Claire was good for you too. But she didn’t… get it. Not like she does,” he gestured vaguely to your station outside the door. “Claire was never gonna get the restaurant and the kitchen and the fuck of it all.”

Richie's hand extends to cup Carmy's shoulder.

“Look, do whatever you want, but there isn’t really someone who matches you like she does. Claire’s history now, drunk phone calls don’t mean she’s still in love with you. If that’s what you were thinking.”

Carmy sits back in the creaky chair. “Nah, not that. I just don’t know how to do it right.”

“It’s not about doing it right,” Richie’s got sincerity in his eyes. “It’s about fuckin’… trying shit. Just go and make a move and see.” Carmy watches you hang up your apron on the hook and grab a hoodie before fucking outside. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Richie.”

“Good luck.”

- 

“I’m sorry.”

Carmy’s voice takes you out of your trance as you stare into the back alley of the restaurant. “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

“You can talk, I’ll listen.”

The crackle of his lighter, orange flame against white snow. You can see his breath slipping from between his lips as he exhales out of the corner of your eye.

“I feel like a fuckin’ asshole,” he starts, plunging his other hand in his pocket. “I don’t know what to say.” A beat. “Can you look at me?” It’s gentle, a question, not a demand.

You turn to look at him. Cold blue eyes, darkened by the brightness around you. “You’re not second best to me. You’re it, this is it. I like this, I, I fuckin’,” he takes a breath, “I love… this. I want this.”

“You hurt my feelings, Carmen,” tears brimming your eyes and coating your lashes. “If you’re not done with Claire, I don’t… I don’t care. If I am your second choice, fine.” 

“You’re not.”

“Even if I was. But don’t fuck me around if you don’t want me.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? You weren’t sure last night.”

“I get it if you don’t trust me. I get it. I haven’t given you a reason to.” He searches for the right words, but chooses to take a tentative step towards you. “I’ll beg for you,” he’s quiet, unlike Carmy. “Anything.”

Your eyes meet his briefly, a soft smile pulling at your lip. “I’m not saying yes, okay?” He nods. “But I am saying I would appreciate a ride home tonight. If you’re serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Good.”

-

The walk up to your apartment is easy. His heavy steps behind your light ones, hands sliding up the bannister as you unlock your door. He’s on your heels, a little behind. When he steps in your apartment, it’s familiar. Browned butter, vanilla, laundry. 

“Do you want dinner?” He’s tentative, letting his shoes sit next to yours on the mat. His jacket goes up on the hooks by the door, together. 

“Are you offering?”

“Yes.”

Carmy shows love through food, that’s how he always is. You can tell he’s feeling particularly sorry about it all because he’s bringing out a big pasta pot and a saucepan, pulling the only fresh ingredients left in your place and putting them next to the stove top. Your t-shirt finds its way into the laundry basket, an old sweater thrown over your bare skin.

You hate how normal it all feels, because it’s scary. To think of a domestic life with him, where there’s another girl lingering in the background of his thoughts that he has unfinished business with. Insecurities of who is better, prettier, happier, warmer… if he had the chance, would he leave? Would he jump ship?

He sits next to you while you eat, thighs against thighs, and comfortable silence blanketing your small apartment. He hasn’t gotten into one of the many pairs of pyjamas he’s left at your place, or taken his usual after-work shower, or taken out the frozen cookie dough to thaw. You can tell he’s not sure if he’s welcome here for good, yet.

When your food is done, he pushes the plates away and takes a calloused hand to wrap around yours. There’s sharpie marks small knife cuts on his fingers. 

“Are you gonna stay the night?” You ask, still not meeting his gaze. 

“Am I welcome to?” He doesn’t sound like himself, and you can feel his warm breath near the top of your head as you turn towards him. Your body collapses a little then, folding slightly at the middle to have your head fall right into the centre of his chest.

“Yes, Carmen,” you nod, letting your eyes flicker up to meet his. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

His hand slipped from yours then, sliding around your side and up your back. He pulled you into his embrace, lips wrapped around yours in a soft capture. Your hands found their way under his t-shirt, only slightly, his warm skin against the palms of your hands, pulling him impossibly closer. 

And when you lay in bed with him that night, your face burrowed into the softness of his chest, you know the days of waking up alone are over. 

#carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto

[its-time-to-write]

perhaps some angst?? reader and jamie break up but fluff at the end because he wins her back 🥹

I’m sorry this took me so long 😭 Not always the best at writing angst. Thanks for requesting!

can’t really say i’m enjoying it now

“What the fuck, Jamie,” you say. “What the actual fuck.”

You’re in Richmond’s boot room after training. You’d been upstairs with Rebecca which is a bit of why you’re even in this mess. 

After all, she’s the one who told you he’d changed.

She’s the one who told him to just go for it.

She’s the one who showed you the interview clip.

You might be on the offensive, but Jamie’s on the defensive.

“I don’t get why you’re so fuckin upset, babe,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance. His eyes, however, are just as fiery as yours. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big-not that big a deal? Then what is a big deal, Jamie? And don’t ‘babe’ me, you are in absolutely no place to pull that shit after that shit you pulled.”

In another circumstance, that turn of phrase would have made Jamie laugh. Would have made him comment on your command of the English language.

Would have made him kiss you.

Now however, he just throws his hands in the air and says, “It was just an interview. Those are things you say in an interview. ‘Case you forgot, I’m a fucking famous footballer.”

“How can I forget?” you shoot back, arms crossed, “it’s all you ever fucking talk about.”

“At least I’m not a self-absorbed grad student who thinks she’s all that because she ‘makes her own money,’ and ‘has a real job.’” Here Jamie mocks your voice, high pitched and whiny.

All you can see is red. “Damnit Jamie, that is a far cry from telling the entire world about how grateful I am that you decided to date me, and then bragging about how fucking out-of-my-league you are. I’m not some goddamn charity case! And then you had the audacity to make jokes about our private life on live television. Live television, Jamie. Do you know how many people saw that? And are going to see that? It’s not just a joke about yourself anymore. It involves me too.” 

Jamie looks at you, eyes narrowed. He knows he should back down, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature to surrender a fight. “It’s not like anyone’s going to fuckin care, anyway. You’re not even famous, so who gives a shit?”

That catches you off guard. You weren’t famous, that was true, but there were a few more results in a google search of your name these days. Because of Jamie. Some were kind, some were not. 

You knew you had been prickly about it, because you wanted people to know you for you, not as some footballer’s girlfriend. You wanted to be known for your graduate research, for helping people, for something that mattered. 

You had been lashing out as a result, flexing your presumed intelligence in a less-than-graceful manner.

You had seen Jamie bottle up every retort, but now it was all coming out.

He was wrong, but so were you. You know you should back down, but you won’t. It’s not in your nature.

You whisper, “I give a shit, Jamie Tartt. I do. It’s my name but it doesn’t even belong to me anymore. It’s always tied to yours and I can’t get it back.”

You glare at each other in silent anger. The air feels so thick that you could reach out and put a piece in your pocket. There are hot, angry tears in your eyes, and Jamie’s face is red, eyebrows knit together. Your arms are in fists at your sides, and Jamie’s are tightly crossed. Each of you sending the message, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Finally Jamie speaks up. “You want your fucking name back?” he asks, far too calmly. “You can have it. We’re done.”

For a moment, all you can hear is roaring in your ears. Then- “Fuck you. Fine. You think I’m a self-righteous bitch? At least I know who I am, and I’m working on it instead of pretending to be something I’m not. Have a nice life, Jamie,” you reply, icy voice cooling the fire in your veins. You turn sharply on your heel and walk out of the boot room. You don’t slam the door. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Jamie kicks a bench and lets out a single, “Fuck!”

—

That was three months ago. You booked the first flight you could find back to your parents’ house before you even told them you were coming home for a visit. They were overjoyed to have you, despite the circumstances of your return. 

You managed to keep it together right until the moment you saw your dad’s face at baggage claim, and then you felt everything fall apart. He hugged you as though it was the only thing keeping you from shattering into a million pieces, and you just sobbed.

You spend a month on their couch, slogging through schoolwork and binge-watching tv. Your mom walks with you every morning, claiming she needs someone to keep her from cutting corners. In reality, the fresh air is good for you. She lets you walk in silence, and squeezes your hand the exact moment before a tear falls from your eye.

“He’s just a young man,” she says, “They do dumb things. He’ll learn. I’m sorry he had to learn through you, but you won’t feel this way forever.” 

You tell her once this feels like taking his side. She laughs and says, “Having grace for someone is not the same as taking their side. And anyway, which one of you have I let live in my house for the past three weeks?”

Your dad is less forgiving. You hear your mom talking him out of buying a plane ticket to London. “Violence is not the answer for this,” she says.

You can’t hear your dad’s reply, but it’s something along the lines of “Just wanted to talk to him.”

Your mom laughs. Your dad is downright frightening when he wants to be, violence or no. You catch a snip of “Poor boy, his father- can’t be expected- not excusing-” before you put in some earbuds and slip off to sleep.

Your mom is on your side. She just has the unnerving tendency to understand both sides of an argument. You’re grateful that she doesn’t make any snide comments about Jamie like your sister does, because there’s a part of you that just hurts because that part still loves him, and it feels like slander on his name is slander on yours. 

You try not to note that your name is still inextricably intertwined with his.

— 

Back in Richmond, Jamie is throwing himself fully into football. He doesn’t talk or joke so much anymore, just silently goes through training. He plays better, if anything. He kicks the ball with such precision during matches that the game is won if he’s even remotely near the goal. He is vicious, unforgiving, vengeful toward himself. The team leaves him alone, except Roy and Ted.

Roy still takes him for training every morning and Ted comes over to Jamie’s house with lunch every weekend.

Jamie is still silent.

—

You spend the next two months in Richmond, trying to make new memories in the places that only remind you of Jamie. It’s almost impossible, because all you can think about is his smile, and how his sharp canines glinted in the light. How his hands would catch your waist and thumbs would draw circles on your hipbones. How he could bring you to tears of laughter in a single sentence or well-timed look.

You’re almost at a point of forgiveness when you see a tabloid. You don’t even register the picture because all you can focus on is the bolded name in the headline. It’s Jamie’s name.

You’re sure it’s about some girl he’s with, because what else would be in a tabloid? You roll your eyes and scoff. Typical. Leave it to him to bounce back. You suppose long-term relationships mean nothing to him.

After that, you stay in your flat. You only leave during times you know are impossible to bump into him. 

Things start to get better. If Jamie’s moved on, so can you. You begin going on runs again. You stop by Mae’s now and again to chat with the regulars. She slips you free chips with a wink and a pat on the hand.

You still think about Jamie. He’s on your mind and you wonder if you’re on his. You remember the tabloid and shake your head.

You’re one semester away from graduating, and your research has started to mean something. You google your name once and see your name in a singular footnote in a research paper you helped write. It’s the first result. You smile. 

—

You are so close to having your first Jamie-free day. He hasn’t been the first thing on your mind for two days. You don’t have that feeling of falling, or of guilt. It is a beautiful Thursday morning, so you get up, put on your jogging clothes, then head out the door for a run. It’s a little cloudy but you swear that’s the best weather to exercise in. Less sweaty. You are three months out from your breakup and you are beginning to feel joy again. You turn a corner, thinking about a nice coffee, when you ram straight into something warm and solid. You lose your balance, but strong arms reach out to catch you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” you cry. “I should have looked where I was-”

Words escape you as you look up into the blue eyes of your rescuer. 

“Hi,” he breathes. “I’ve missed you.”

You’re trapped in his gaze for a minute before-

“Ow!”

You’ve stomped on Jamie’s foot. 

“What was that for?” he asks indignantly. 

“Oh I don’t know,” you reply, “maybe for being a complete asshole? It also could be for snogging whatever model you were with in that tabloid? Real stellar move, showing that much remorse. I’m glad it didn’t take long to get over me. Guess the phrase ‘long-term relationship’ means something different to footballers than it does to us little people.”

Jamie opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. 

“Look, you’re right, I’m a fuckin’ arsehole, but what are you talking about? What model?”

You’re a little thrown off by his admission to being an asshole. “What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about?’ I saw your name show up in some headline and you’re only ever in there for some girl, and I get it, it’s fine that you’ve moved on, it just feels really fucking quick.”

Jamie has the audacity to chuckle. “It weren’t about some model. It was about you.”

You go cold. This can’t be happening again. Jamie Tartt, spilling his guts in some sleazy interview, painting you in the worst light.

He sees the look of absolute horror on your face so he hurries on, “Look. You were right. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. But I did, and I can’t take it back. So I’m doing me best to make it right. It were about a tv interview where they asked about you, and I said we’d broken up. Told them I was a complete prick about everything and I let you slip through my fingers.” For the first time, you take a good look at Jamie’s face. He looks truly awful. Hair floppy (and not in a good way), bloodshot eyes, dark circles. 

He continues, “I know I shouldn’t have been a prick about being famous. It’s just, I get in me fuckin’ head about shit like this. Did the same thing with Keeley. Got scared of something real and knew I’d fuck it up eventually, so I thought I might as well get it over with. And anyway, you’re way out of my league. Figured I might as well let you go before you figured it out. I’ve been- I’ve been getting better. Less dick-like. You can ask anyone, Roy, Coach, whoever. I’m really trying, here. And I know I fucked things between us, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m just trying to be better for me and whoever fucking has to put up with me next.” 

You have no words. All you can do is stare at him. You hear your mom’s voice saying, “He’s just a young man. He’ll figure himself out.”

You hear Keeley saying, “he’s grown so much, really, he almost isn’t even the same person anymore.”

You hear Rebecca, as you sat in her office right before Jamie asked you out, telling you, “He’s a shockingly fast learner. Only has to be told something once, and it’s in his head forever. Give him a chance.”

You open your mouth and what comes out is: “I’m sorry too.”

Jamie looks just as shocked that you said that as you are, but you keep going. “My mom talked to me a lot about- about deciding what you can forgive. And I guess, I know I wasn’t blameless. I pushed you away on purpose, and I was aware of every single word that I said that hurt you. She also talked about ‘age-appropriate mistakes.’ She said both you and I made them, and that doesn’t mean I should take you back but that I should at least consider forgiveness. It’s easy to forget that we’re really young, you know? We both have a lot of responsibility, and I forget that it’s ok if we make mistakes. And you being you, your mistakes are more public. I- I needed to figure out if I could deal with it or not. I’m still not sure if I can. I don’t want my life to be on display.”

Jamie nods, expression intent. You take a breath and then continue. “But I guess that I need to figure out which I want more. Privacy, or you. I mean, if that’s even something you want.”

Jamie’s eyes have never left your face. He says, “Always knew I liked your mum,” and then he’s pushing a strand of hair our of your eyes, hesitantly, giving you time to pull away.  

You don’t.

You let him run his fingers through your hair.

You let him kiss you, softly.

You let him back into your life.

I missed you, he had said.

You pull back, smiling. “By the way, I missed you too.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[star-girl69]

enemies to lover with nat !! i’m begging for u to end this drought! spoiled reader who always get on nats nerve very angsty if you could make it

Party Queen

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: this was so fun to write but idk if i did the request justice ☹️ anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: drugs and alcohol, underage drinking and smoking, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“Of course I wasn’t home for curfew,” you chuckle, sending Shauna and Jackie an odd look. You were talking about the keg party you had all attended last night, and how late you had ended up leaving.

“Won’t your parents care?” Shauna scoffs.

“As long as I’m not pregnant, why the hell would Rebecca care?”

Both of them look at you, even more confused now. You sigh, bringing your knee up to your chest to tie your cleats.

“Rebecca? The housekeeper? I told you guys about her, right?” Jackie nods after a moment.

“Yeah, but… I kinda thought you were joking?”

You let out a laugh, bending over on the bench, almost crying as you double over.

“Oh, oh, my God, that is so funny,” you breathe when you calm down. “I mean, like, not to be a bitch, but come on! My dad’s off in like, Canada or something, and my mom’s at a wellness retreat in San Antonio. Rebecca is my second mom, basically.”

“Yeah…” Jackie chuckles. “Because that’s perfectly normal.”

You shrug, setting your now tied cleats onto the ground.

“Oh, that reminds me. I was thinking- team bonding at my house tonight? We can use the pool, and I think the hottub is warm, and Rebecca can order pizza for us!” you stand up, putting your hands around Jackie and Shauna’s shoulders as Coach Martinez calls you onto the field.

“Can Jeff come?” Jackie asks.

“Only if you share,” you wink, and it takes Jackie a moment, but she laughs when she realizes you’re joking.

Shauna shrugs. “I’ll come.”

“Great!” you smile, squeezing their shoulders before letting go to take a knee in front of Coach.

—-

“Hey, Taissa,” you say. There’s a pause in the scrimmage- one of the JV girls had accidentally kicked the ball over the fence, and Misty had volunteered to go get it, conveniently not knowing where the extras were.

“Hey, Y/N,” Taissa says, stretching by pulling her foot up to her back.

“Team bonding at my house tonight?” she raises one eyebrow at you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a reputation. “Fine. It’s a party.”

She looks you up and down. “Free booze?”

“And pizza!” you sing. “Bring your bathing suit, too.”

She bites her lip, toying with the idea. “Sure,” she says after a moment, sending you a small smile.

“What could the great Taissa Turner possibly have to say to the Party Queen?” Natalie snorts, walking over just as Misty shouts she has the ball, starting her run back over.

Taissa rolls her eyes.

“Party,” you say, drawing out the world while you fix your ponytail. “Free booze, free pizza, and my pool? What’s not to love?”

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Y/N, I’m just deathly allergic to mansions and the people who live in them.”

“You’re no fun,” you scoff. “I mean, what else are you gonna do tonight? Get drunk and suck someone’s dick? Why not at least do it on my dad’s dime?”

“Ha. Fuck you, Y/N.”

“Will you just come?” you groan. “It’s team bonding.”

She stares at you up and down for a moment, and you adjust your jersey, feeling weird under her stare.

“Fine,” she says after a moment.

—-

Rebecca had only shook her head and said not to cause any damage, before placing an order for a million pizzas, and you changed into bathing suit, putting on a loose white cover-up, making sure the pool was clean and the snacks and pizza were out- before you rubbed some sunscreen on yourself, put on some sunglasses, and sat in the last rays of the dying sun.

“Oh, holy shit,” someone laughs, and you hear the click of the fence gate shut. You pull your sunglasses down, looking at Taissa and Van.

“You’re here!” you smile, standing up, adjusting your sunglasses and placing an oversized beach hat on your head. Van immediately grabs a slice of pizza, looking at you, but you only make a wide motion with your hands. “The hot tubs at, like, 102, and the pool is at 84, I think,” your voice drops to a whisper, even though Rebecca is inside the guest room reading her romance book, “the beer is in the coolers.” You nod your head to the two coolers you had lined up against the wall and filled with cheap alcohol.

“Oh, thank God,” Taissa mutters, immediately walking over to it. The gate creaks open again, and slowly, everyone starts filing in.

—-

Natalie doesn’t arrive until it’s already dark, when it feels like the party is just getting started. You’ve long abandoned all your accessories, instead chatting with one of the freshman, Allie, about how she had gotten invited to prom.

“Hey, Party Queen,” Natalie mutters, looking around, and you’re already a little tipsy.

“Natalie!” you shout, not meaning to, and she laughs and cringes while you clear your throat. “I’m drunk,” you explain, and she raises her eyebrows.

“Just a bit?”

“Just a bit,” you nod, saluting like a soldier, which makes you giggle. “Oh, um, beer is-” you spin around, until you finally find the wall with the coolers. “There. And any pizza left is on the table. You were late,” you shrug.

“Oh, wow. What will I ever do without a slice of cheap pizza?”

You frown. “I love Alfredo’s pizza, though.”

“Oh, God,” she mutters, looking around the backyard. Allie has long since walked away. “This place is ridiculous, you know?”

“Ridiculously fun?” you ask, reaching out to grab her wrist, tugging her over to the lounge chairs. A girl screams as she jumps into the pool from the diving board, and Natalie grins, laughing.

“Not the word I would have used,” Natalie shrugs, and you grab her bag from her and put it on the nearest lounge chair. “What the fuck are you doing?” she asks, not making a move to grab her bag.

“Won’t you swim?” you ask, feeling slightly bad that not everyone is having fun at your party. You had a reputation to uphold, anyways. Natalie rolls her eyes, and you lift off your bathing suit cover, letting it drop to the concrete.

She looks at your boobs.

“Stoo staring at my boobs,” you grumble, slipping off your flip-flops.

“What- why would I stare at your boobs?”

“‘Cause I’m hot, duh.”

“I think the parties are getting to your brain.”

You shrug and step into the water, looking at her over your shoulder. And she’s staring at you, but she doesn’t make any move to take off your own clothes. You shrug and submerge yourself, swimming over to Jackie, Shauna, and the infamous Jeff.

—-

You climb out of the pool, pretending you don’t feel eyes on you, spotting Natalie and a glowing ember in her hand. She hasn’t even taken off her jacket, and you suppose it’s a little chilly, especially coming out of the water.

The refreshing pool did nothing to make you any less drunk, and you sit on the end of Natalie’s lounge chair, forcing her to tuck her legs up and sit to avoid getting wet.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans, letting smoke blow out of her mouth. You lean forward.

“Give me some,” you say.

She scoffs. “Why would I do that? Not even a please from the spoiled queen? Oh, God, I’m wounded.”

“Fine. You’ve smoked so much I can probably just absorb it from the air around you.”

You can see her smile, slightly forced, like it always is when it comes to you. “Why are you such a bitch? Mad that daddy’s away?”

“I’m having a pool party at my house, unsupervised, with pizza and beer. Why would I be mad?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she mumbles.

“Seriously, can I have some, though?”

“No.”

“Look at who’s the bitch now, huh?”

“You didn’t even say please, you spoiled brat.”

“Please!” you shout, a smile on your face, and Natalie laughs but finally gives in after a moment, putting the join in front of your face, and you eagerly wrap your lips around the end and breathe in the poisoned air.

You cough, smoke dripping from your mouth.

“Loser,” she mumbles, and you choose to pretend not to have heard it. She takes it back, taking her own drag, and the sounds of the girls talking and shouting and water splashing becomes the only noise.

Natalie Scatorccio has hated you from as long as you could remember. Maybe she was jealous, or maybe you had really done something to hurt her- either indirectly, or so long ago and small enough you had completely forgotten.

“Jesus,” she mutters after a moment, shuffling around, before something hits you.

“The fuck?” you ask, only to be faced with Natalie’s jacket.

“You’re shivering. It’s making me cold just looking at you.”

“Aw,” you coo, wrapping the leather jackets over your mostly-dried shoulders. “Who knew Natalie Scatorccio, infamous bitch, had a heart?”

“Who knew Y/N L/N, infamous brat, could be stupid enough to not grab a towel after she got out the pool?”

“Why do you hate me?” you ask after a moment. “Like, seriously. Did I do something super fucked up in elementary school? Because, come on, get over it.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just annoying and spoiled.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” You turn to her, eyeing her suspiciously, and her cheeks flush, but it’s probably from the weed. “Get over it,” you say after a moment. “Not my fault my dad is like, rich, or whatever.”

She just looks away.

“Well, you’re annoying, too, you know,” you say after a moment, missing the sound of her voice.

“Oh?” she asks, but by the way she smiles- both of you know you have nothing to say.

“Whatever,” you mumble. “This is making me sad.”

You stand, stumbling a bit, throwing Natalie’s now damp jacket back onto her.

—-

By the time Jackie and Shauna have bid their goodbyes to you, everyone else is gone. You sigh, suiting on a lounge chair in the pitch black, stretching and feeling everything pop, before curling up. You think you stay like that for a few more minutes, telling yourself you’ll get up, but you never do.

The gate creaks open again, and you flip over, scared about serial killers-

“Damn,” Natalie mutters. “I just forgot my jacket. You… you good?” you sigh and wrap your arms around yourself.

You love throwing parties. You love the people and the music, the food and the drinks, the drugs, everything about it. They call you the Party Queen and you are- but mainly because you wish they would never end.

There’s this empty feeling festering inside of you, and this sickness that will never be cured. You tell yourself you’re not bothered by your parents leaving, but now, you don’t know.

Natalie takes a few steps closer, and you look up at her.

“I never like the end of parties,” you say.

“It’s freezing outside. You’re gonna catch a cold,” Natalie sighs, picking up her jacket. But maybe you’re too drunk too move. Natalie takes a sip from someone’s leftover beer. She mutters something to herself, before grabbing your hand and hauling you up to stand.

You stumble, drunk and confused, and she’s drunk too, so she barely steadies you, her hands all over you.

“Huh?” you say, and she wraps a tentative arm around your waist and guides you around the pool, and to the faint lights of your house.

“Time for bed,” she mumbles, and you look at her, before unlocking the sliding glass door and stepping inside the cool house.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask, staring at her suspiciously as you both lean on each other, tired and tipsy.

“I would feel like shit if I just let you to die out there.”

“I wasn’t gonna die,” you snort, taking a turn so you end up in front of the stairs. “It’s not cold enough for that yet. Besides, I was gonna get up.”

“You’re drunk,” she deadpans, and you look at her, almost missing a step, but the two of you quickly steady yourselves. “You can’t even get up the stairs, Y/N,” she sighs.

“Okay,” you mumble, drawing out the word, until you finally lean forward and open the door. Natalie helps you sit on the bed, before looking around your room, covered in soccer trophies and medals, pictures of various teams you had been on.

She sighs. “Goodnight, Party Queen,” she says after a moment, and turns to leave.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“Walk,” she shrugs, and you open the window near your bed, looking out at the sky through the faint streetlights. It’s dark, not only from the lack of sunlight but from some dark clouds rolling about in the sky.

“But, like, don’t you live at the trailer park? That’s, like, on the other side of town.” You gesture to the window. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

“Okay, Miss Meteorologist,” she chuckles, but you aren’t laughing. You’re tired.

“You can stay, if you want,” you yawn. “Rebecca won’t mind.”

“Goodnight,” she says again, as you stand up and start to slip off your bathing suit.

“You should stay.”

She doesn’t turn around until you do, until you’ve slipped on a t-shirt and a pair of undies.

“You should stay, Natalie. I would feel horrible if you died out there.”

She looks at you, then at the dark window.

“Fine,” she says after a moment, slipping off her jacket and her sneakers, placing them in a neat pile near your bed. “Only ‘cause I don’t wanna get rained on.”

“You’re drooling thinking about sharing a bed with me.”

It takes her a moment, but she laughs. Like, really, truly laughs in a way you haven’t heard anyone laugh in years. And after a moment, you’re laughing too, and suddenly she’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, the laughter dying off.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, already dreading waking up with a hangover.

Everything you’re doing is shrouded in a thick haze, and you can’t tell which way is up or down, and you can’t turn back. Not now.

“I always thought you were a bitch. ‘Cause you were such a bitch to me,” you say, curling up on your side. She lays on her back, staring at the ceiling, staying far away from you and breathing heavily.

“You deserved it,” she says after a moment. “You always walk around like you own the world- it was my cosmic duty to knock you down a few pegs.” You giggle, and she finally turns her head to face you. She hides a hiccup into her hand. “But, uh, this house is so big and empty, you know? Now I feel bad.”

“I don’t think you’re so bad, Natalie,” you murmur, and she lets out a dry laugh.

“Maybe you aren’t either. I mean, you’re still a spoiled brat, but.”

“And you’re a trailer park loser.”

“Then you’re a desperate loser.”

“Fuck off, bitch,” you mutter into the pillow. “At least I’m not a goddamn drug addict.”

“At least I’m not a poor little lonely girl, waiting here her parents to pay attention to her.” She turns fully onto her side, and you look at her with narrowed eyes.

“At least my parents make money.”

“Shut up,” she breathes. “You don’t even know anything except spending money.”

“And you don’t know anything besides sucking dick.” The air in the room feels heavier, tangible.

“Shut up.”

“At least I have money to spend.”

But the more you talk, the more you don’t mean it. The more smiles form across both of your faces, giddy and carefree, too teenage girls basically home alone in a big mansion- but they only care about this room, this bed.

“Shut. Up.”

She’s whispering now, leaning towards you, and you’re leaning towards her, like you’re two magnets who can’t stay away.

“You shut up.”

She makes a motion that seems to be a shrug, before making the final leap forward, that final connection, and smashing her lips onto yours.

Life becomes flashes of teeth and tongues, lips and hands, until you’re pulling back for air, her hands in your hair, your lips bitten and swollen, the remnants of your lipstick smeared across her face.

She only pulls away enough so that your noses still brush against each others, and you can feel her breath against your skin, labored from kissing.

“At least I’m not a stupid Party Queen,” she gasps after a moment.

You smile. “You wish you were.”

—-

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

[rozcdust]

Mockingbird

Pairing: Shinichiro Sano x F!Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff, lil angst

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Canon divergent, OOC, profanity, tattooing

You were born rotten, but he had a chance.

pt. 1 | previous | playlist

“Y/n, this young man came to find you.” The receptionist appeared at the door of your room, grinning, his hand resting on Kazutora’s shoulder.

You nodded, not even looking up from your sketch, adding a final few touches to the design for your next client.

It was a large back piece, one that will take weeks to complete, depicting a rather intricate dragon in a traditional Japanese style, surrounded by sakura broom and spider lilies, and it was a design you were immensely proud of.

What a shame this beauty will have to end up on Imaushi.

Finally looking up, your eyes hardened as you saw Kazutora’s new haircut.

“So? Whatcha think?” He was grinning ear to ear, looking at you much like an over-excited puppy.

You took a deep, long sigh.

“Tora, how offended would you be if I started laughing?”

His face fell into a frown.

“Very.”

Nodding, you allowed only a smile to crack through, beckoning him to sit down so you could show him the designs.

“I won’t laugh then. Here are some of the designs of the tiger tattoo you asked for.”

“Y/n, these are so cool!” Amazed, Kazutora flipped through the pages, carefully observing each and every one, finally landing on a tiger tattoo in a similar style to the one you had on your own back.

“How was school?” Placing the stencil on his neck, you carefully removed the paper, handing Tora a mirror so he could see if he liked the placement.

“It was fine, I’ll go meet Baji’s friends tomorrow too… This placement looks great!”

“Alright. Let me know if you’ll need money, okay?” Putting on gloves and picking up the tattoo machine, you send him a warning look, “This will hurt, you know? The neck is a sensitive area. And if you move too much, I will fuck up the tattoo, so you gotta be still.”

Kazutora nodded, as if fully prepared for the world of misery he just threw himself in.

He had no idea.

Shrugging, you got to work.

Shinichiro sulked the entire way to the studio, letting some of his sibling’s teasing get to him as he lit up another cigarette as soon as the previous one burned out, thinking over the previous date.

You seemed to have fun, and you told him as much, but still, you never got back to him again, and as much as he told himself you’re just busy, with work or your brother starting middle school - he himself went through a hellish time with Mikey - he couldn’t deny it any longer.

Maybe you just decided he wasn’t worth it, and that sent his heart plummeting to rock bottom.

“If anything,” Takeomi shrugged, probably trying to sound comforting, “At least you got a kiss out of the ordeal.”

Shinichiro’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his friend.

He and Benkei came to wish Wakasa luck, and to cause Shinichiro grief.

“First off, she kissed my cheek. Secondly, who the fuck told you she kissed me?“

“Haruchiyo did.” Benkei was the one to respond, shrugging, and Shinichiro gasped in betrayal.

“You sent your little brother to spy on me?”

“He wanted to come to play with Mikey and Izana anyway.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Shinichiro shook his head, frowning.

“Good riddance, if you ask me. She’s a bitch.” Wakasa huffed, stretching as he checked his watch.

“Don’t call her that!”

“To be fair to her, I’d have beaten your ass too.“ Takeomi shrugged, grinning when Wakasa swung at him, a sour frown on his face.

“Either way, it’s 4:15, and it’s respectful to arrive at a tattoo session early. Get your ass in, Shin.” Opening the doors to the studio, Wakasa almost ran into a kid who was rushing to get out.

“Kids these days.” Frowning, Wakasa stepped in, Shinichiro waving Takeomi and Benkei goodbye as he followed the blond inside.

Wakasa managed to find his aunt, who greeted him with multiple kisses to his face, ruffling his hair, exclaiming how big he’s gotten.

Shinichiro snickered while Wakasa looked miserable, waiting on his aunt to lead him to the artist.

“She’s new, but trust me, her line work and shading are immaculate! She was my apprentice, smart and hardworking girl, you’ll love her, I’m sure!” Rambling, his aunt led them to an empty, secluded room, “She’ll be here any minute, she as far as I know finished the design you two agreed on over the phone.”

Nodding, Wakasa politely thanked her, shaking his leg in anticipation.

“I was serious about you holding my hand.” Glaring, Wakasa sounded as confident as ever, looking up at Shinichiro who raised his arms up in defence.

“I’ll hold your hand, no worries.”

“You better. Or I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, I made some variations on what we agreed on, you’ll only have to pick and then we will see how it moves with the ba-“ A female voice called out as the artist entered the room, not even looking up as she flipped through the designs, stopping on the doorway to look at something closely.

Wakasa and Shinichiro stared, mouth agape.

You were wearing a tank top, arms and collarbones bare, revealing full sleeves of intricate tattoos depicting skeletons, animals and flowers swirling up your skin, disappearing to be hidden by the fabric of your shirt.

Shinichiro felt his cheeks burning.

You were truly your own piece of art, a dark painting with a couple of splotches of red paint and how glad Shinichiro was to be able to even dare claim you were his.

You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he looked at you as if he’s seen God.

“YOU?!” Wakasa jumped, an accusatory finger pointed.

You utterly ignored him.

“Yes Imaushi, I’ll be the one to do your tattoo.” Spitting his name out like a curse, you looked up briefly to meet his eye, “And if you piss me off, I just may hide a dick in the design.”

Wakasa paled.

Shinichiro awkwardly waved, and you smiled, taking a couple of steps to plant a chaste peck on his lips.

“Sorry for not calling, I was super busy.” Smiling into the kiss, you pulled back, cutely tilting your head in apology.

Shin threw Wakasa a victorious look.

“It’s okay.” Shinichiro grinned, making a mental note to tell his siblings where to stick it.

“I do not want to get a tattoo done by you.” Almost snarling, Wakasa got into your face.

“Yeah? Tough fucking shit, unless you want to lose the deposit.” Shrugging, you pointed to the couch and a small coffee table in the corner of the room.

You all but passively aggressively threw the designs into Wakasa’s face, arms crossed and fingers tapping your elbow impatiently as you waited on him to flip through the designs and pick.

Shinichiro stared at the drawings in awe, looking at you with his eyes wide.

“You drew that? Y/n, this is amazing!”

A small smile formed on your face.

Finally, Wakasa picked a design, and as you left to get the stencil ready, Wakasa sent Shin a dark look.

“Your bitch is pissing me off.”

“Stop calling her a bitch, Waka.”

“Fuck off.”

Shinichiro went to open his mouth and bite back a reply just as you appeared, holding the full stencil.

“We won’t be able to do the whole tattoo today, it will take six to eight 5 hour sessions but I will put the stencil as a whole, just so we can see how it’d move and if you’ll like it. Strip.”

Wakasa did as told, frowning as he took off his shirt.

Upon deciding on the placement, amount of sessions and price, you told Wakasa to lie down on the table as you prepared the machine.

Shinichiro dragged a chair to the table, softly taking Wakasa’s hand into his as the man shivered in anticipation.

You merely raised an eyebrow at the display of affection, but said nothing.

“This will hurt, we’re starting over your shoulder blade, bones hurt quite a bit. If you need a break, even just for a couple of seconds, let me know.” Staring pointedly at Wakasa, you waited until he nodded, his grip on Shinichiro’s hand tightening.

And if he let out a small scream when you first put the needle to his skin, who will have to know?

Everyone.

Everyone because Shinichiro will make sure to tell them that Wakasa Imaushi is a little bitch.

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @galactict3a @bontensbabygirl @somniari-94 @astropheia @rgtgt @bubble-dream-inc @princesshaitani @luvjiro @inurmom00 @secretanimesimp @sweeneyblue1 @ameliabs-world @levii-s

a/n: deadass posting this in middle of my seminar class, i’ve been in uni since 8 a.m. and now it’s 5 p.m., my phone is on 6%, send help 🥲

also, for context

tora before the haircut:

beautiful baby boy

tora after the haircut:

a vaguely cute clown

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x you #sano shinichiro x you #wakasa imaushi #grandpa sano #sano shinichiro #takeomi akashi

[iron-sides]

Wrote a little future thing taking place after the roadtrip fic 👍🏻when i say they're all living in each others pockets i mean if mary or tim was even slightly less devoted to being ruthlessly polite Mary would've been subjected to live footage of every last one of these bitches

Mary looks at her boss through the windows into his office, looks back at the calendar he’s just sent her, and then back at her boss. Shakily, she reaches for the phone.

“Sir,” she starts when she hears the click, “Are you sure this is the correct calendar.”

Mr. Drake huffs, as is his right as Obnoxiously Rich Fuck #7 and CEO of the company. He’s a very busy man. “I only have the one. What’s wrong with it?” “It’s just— it seems very full, sir. Should I be seeing every time you go to Metropolis for a haircut?” Mary takes deep breaths. Rage. Good, that’s good, hang on to that. Be polite and be angry that’s the best defense when it comes to… whatever’s wrong with this one. She survived Mr. Wayne, if only for a year and she didn’t even call him Brucie once no matter how many times he asked her to. Remain professional, keep the job, pay off Mom’s mortgage. All things are possible through frosty polite fronts and frequent trips to the rage room down the street.

“Oh! That’s not me. This is a shared calendar with some… friends. Of mine.” WHY DID HE SAY IT LIKE THAT. Mary smells fish. “You only need to worry about anything in green, and it would be greatly appreciated if any appointments you added were in green as well.”

“I see. You’ve given me, your personal assistant, access to a personal calendar you share with,” she counts, under her breath, “let me see, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven? Seven other people?” Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths.

“Yeah, that sounds right. Actually, I have some free time right now, I can run you through them? Might help you to know who’s who.”

In what fucking world would she have time for this. “Sure, Mr. Drake, if you think so. I’ll be in in a moment, just have to send this email.”

With a click, he hangs up the phone. Not even a goodbye?— She’s going to kill him Why is he getting up. Mr. Drake opens the door to his office, grabs the chair on the other side of the damn room, drags it around next to her, and sits down in it. “Easier if I come to you, I think. Hello, Mary.”

“Hello, Mr. Drake.” She glares, hits send, and switches tabs to the calendar from hell. “What is this.”

“Okay.” He starts. He stops. He tries again. “So, several friends and I all ended up sharing one personal calendar several years ago because it made organizing get togethers easier. Two of us are just so busy this was the simplest solution.”

He begins naming people— the friends, apparently— and pointing at colors. “Okay, so Cassie’s yellow, Conner’s blue, Bart’s lime green, Anita’s purple, Bo is black, Greta’s brown. You don’t need to worry about them as a rule, they’re not famous or involved with business or anything, and none of them live in Gotham anyway although Cassie, Kon, and Bart visit all the time.” He points at a red event labeled— Mary does a double take— Olympics Practice— “Cissie’s red. Cissie is Cissie King-Jones, she’s an actress and Olympic athlete. You generally don’t need to worry about her activities, but when she’s in Gotham I won’t be availible until she leaves. We typically have a few events together that you’ll see but if it’s not both I’m not free. She’ll never be in town longer than a week, though, unless there’s some kind of emergency.”

He’s friends with Cisssie King-Jones. Like, from Wendy. And the Olympics. Okay! Okay, cool, this is fine. “And how did you all meet?”

He stares at her. “Well, Cissie and I met because Bruce knows her mom’s ex. Bart’s and Cassie’s cousins are friends with Dick, Bo’s and Anita’s dads know Bruce and Conner’s brother, and we actually met Greta’s brother first but he was an asshole. It’s obviously more complicated than that but we were all like fourteen. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

She blinks at him. Sure! Fine! This may as well happen! “Okay! Thanks for the explanation, I’ll let you get back to work, now.”

He leaves. She adds an appointment, and color codes it green.

#my thots #mary is a throwaway oc btw i respect tam too much to make her put up with this #my fic #this isnt Enough for me to bother putting it on ao3 <- its not rlly a fully story its barely a complete thought -> #however ! i like it enough to put it on tumblr #tim drake #dc comics #fanfiction #young justice 1998 #young justice mention ! #<33 they

[bangtanmix73]

Being best friends with Paul Lahote

Warnings: Gn!human!reader, platonic, swearing, dog jokes, slight mention of sex (not with reader), Rachel (Paul’s actual imprint), might make one for each of the pack members, I have more for a whole part 2

Chaos duo.

He’d take you cliff diving, even if you’re scared of heights. If you refuse to, he pick you up and jump with you.

You poke fun at other pack members together.

You jokingly insult each other, none being taken to heart. Of course, if you have boundaries, he wouldn’t cross them. He can be a dick, but he’s respectful <3.

Just randomly texts you “you wanna go raid Jacob’s kitchen?”

You’re friends with Rachel. She was iffy about you at first, but once she realized you and Paul have the ‘everyone thinks you’re a couple, but you’re not’ friendship with no romantic feelings on either sides, she warmed up to you.

Dog jokes.

“You should phase so I can play tug of war with you” “ok, first of all, fuck you..” “or maybe fetch”

Rachel definitely calls you when she doesn’t know what to do with him

He’d talk about his ‘fun nights’ with Rachel and you’d just sit there like “this is the same guy I made slime with 15 minutes ago.”

Coming up with weird nicknames for each other, mainly insulting.

“Wolf boy”, “ratatouille built bitch”, “dense prick”, “bland pork chops”, “godless thot”.

Absolutely goes to a random fast food restaurant at 2am with you.

Can be protective of you if you’re into guys, only because he knows how they think and how the world is :/.

He’s fine with you dating, he’s not your dad, but if they’re toxic? Hell no, he ain’t tolerating it. Break up now.

Don’t even think about going near the Cullens. He doesn’t 1. Want you to get hurt, turned, or killed. 2. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend to one of them.

If you ever go missing, it’s probably his fault. He drags you out of bed at 8am, into the woods, just for his entertainment.

“If I got a cat, would it piss you off?”

When it snows, he drags you out early in the morning with the pack. You go on a drive, not just any drive…someone drives, someone holds the rope, at the end of rope is a sled, and someone’s on that sled.

One word: wrestling.

Now he’s not very rough with you like he is with the others, but that’s only because of his super strength.

Having deep conversation late at night then laughing at whatever was said and making jokes.

If you’re upset, he’s not very good at comfort, but he’s good at listening. Sometimes you’d have to remind him to listen and not go beat someone’s ass.

If you have your period, again he’s not good at comfort, but he’ll buy sweets and drinks at the first sign. He’d throw them like grenades then duck and hide. It’s entertaining to watch really.

Since he imprinted on Rachel, the three of you have spent a lot of time together. Which means, (if you have your period), yours and hers are in sync.

You and Rachel are the only people he’s actually scared of. 

One time you fell while climbing a tree, he won’t admit it, but he was worried about you.

You were doing something you parents told you not to do once and he threatened to snitch on you. It didn’t work well for him, you took off your shoe, throw it at him, he fell and you dragged him outside and left him there.

You get along well with the pack. You’re not fond of Bella because she hit Paul. You can’t lie, you probably would’ve punched her if you were there.

You think Jacob’s fun when he doesn’t go on and on about Bella.

When Paul has time off from patrol, he’d take Rachel and you on dinner dates.

Always together. People ask where’s the other when they’re not there.

“The coffee shop guy asked me where the ‘ripped gang dude’ was because ‘I’m always with you.”

Rachel’s Halloween idea was her as Lilo, you as stitch, and, for her entertainment, Paul as the big sister, Nani.

If you’re shorter than him, he makes fun of you for it all the time.

“Aww does Y/n need help down?” “Hey Rachel, I hope you didn’t want Paul alive.”

Probably has copies of your baby photos for blackmail.

In marko polo, you yell “Paulo” instead of polo.

Two hot best friends

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight saga #twilight wolfpack x reader #paul lahote #rachel black #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #twilight wolfpack imagine

[0alix0]

it’s still kinda disappointing that throughout all the game/chapters/patches we’ve never seen some Zakuulans just loosing their shit because of some casual galactic stuff

i mean, you get me, right? they’ve been isolated for centuries and probably have never encountered with aliens/different cultures before Valkorion died. It’s like living in a one small city your whole life without even having an idea of the rest of the world

just take you pick:

Koth literally having a list of the craziest, most weird meals in a galaxy (that even most people of those regions won’t risk touching with a stick) he wants to try. And it's not like he even likes most of them, but just because it's weird and fun and omg are those some kind of fried insects' wings? Give me a pack! Oh, this thing is still alive and probably will try to crawl out of your stomach? I'M ON BITCH. Also he has a whole collections of mini models of Imperial/Republic starships because, yeah, ok, maybe they are less effective and advanced compared to Ethernet Fleet but holy shit the LOOKS!!

some random zakuulans deciding to take a vacation somewhere in the “outlandish” part of the galaxy, and choosing to go to fucking HOTH of all planets. Because like... a planet... THAT IS FULL OF SNOW? AND ICE?? AND NOTHING ELSE?? why would they be interested in megapolises, they already live in one of the most advanced planets in the galaxy? But ilum? tatooine? that’s some unusual shit to go!

SAME zakuulans traveling to more technological worlds and seeing like hutts or ortolans or ugnaughts or smth and be like… is this an animal? it it even sentient?? ho-- WAIT IT TALKS?? HOW THE HELL DOES IT TALKS???? no one knows!

Vaylin scrolling through holonet and purely by accident sees some... really weird plant. like defiantly something alien... but it’s pretty and colorful and has a flower in there and she has never seen anything like it and she really REALLY WANTS-- anyway Arcann ends up getting her a star wars equivalent of cactus... whatever floats her boat i suppose? The more time goes on and she has a whole damn orangery filled with most exotic flowers/trees/plants of the galaxy. Some of them bites but uhh... Who cares?

knights reading jedi/sith code at larfing at those morons cuz lmao they willingly follow the code that forbids them from falling in love, getting married or having a family?? Pfft, jedi, not only you have zero bitches, you have no understanding of basic social human needs lmao??? Also, how is it absolutely legal to kill your own apprentices if you're a sith?? Wtf???? That’s not even surprise they’re loosing every war possible, they're better in exterminating each other than their own fucking enemies!

Senya just randomly asking outlander about other species like:

Senya*points at some alien* is this a human?

Outlander: No, that’s Chiss, they’re humanoid bu-

Senya*points at another*: it that a human?

Outlander: No it’s just a Mirialan, half-lizards

Senya: ok that! *points at miraluka* that IS a human right??

Outlander: no.

Senya: Alright, is there a reason they all look exactly like humans almost drowned in gouache paint? Were they somehow created from human genes? Or did they evolve from us somehow?

Outlander: you ask me??..... I mean... twi’leks were artificially made by Rakata and uh... technically pureblood sith aren’t actually pureblood they... uh... they’re all half-breed because of humans- I d-... I don’t know??? 

Senya: (ಠ_ಠ)

you know... that would probably go another way as well

#zakuul #koth vortena #Vaylin #senya tirall #swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #text post #incorrect quote #shitpost

[cod-z]

[NSFW 18+] GB!141 Series (Anon Reveal)

Your media consumption isn't my responsibility | TW: NSFW 18+, Title itself explanatory

Pairing(s): GB!141 (+LV) x Reader

| One-shots | A/N: My anon reveal and brain-rot. For those who knows said story, yes, I am THAT anon from said blog

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

GB!Simon—Who would you have on a leash for disobeying off and on orders from her because she’s all about control, your orgasms are her orgasms. 100% you’re a pillow princess, no questions asked, but unfortunately it FEELS like torment. The way she would have you cum at least 3 times on her fingers before she even THINKS about fucking you with a dildo / strap-on. There might be even DAYS where she leaves you whining like a fucking bitch because she says so. Only time she’ll fix it is if you’re on your knees, crawling and begging her to fucking do you like the damn whore you need to be—

GB!Price—Who is more merciful than GB!Simon but would make you work extra hard for your orgasms, won’t do the work all on her own, you gotta grind on her FUCKING THIGHS— Cover it cum or your slick! Show this woman that you’re a good fucking girl/guy for her because she needs this power over you. 😩 Like Mommy Price? Please dominate me, tell me what to do! You need to be an empty headed soldier who can’t do shit without being commanded by her. Grind her boots, grind her thighs, use her to tongue how you want it but fuck- it’s not enough. You need HER to move the way she wants it to, how you NEED her to.

GB!Johnny—Who HEADLOCKS you into submission, will use dildos, strap-ons any toy she could get her hands on, 100% will treat you like a fucking mutt, it’s YOUR turn to be the mutt. Will praise you 100% but with degrading words. “Such a slut, but a good slut for me, yeah?” Has stamina for days! Will 👏 keep 👏 you 👏 in 👏 place 👏 FOR HOURS— till you can’t take it anymore. Till you’re brain fucked into tomorrow! Doesn’t matter how much you beg to stop, she’ll keep going to there’s a fucking puddle on the bed. Did I forget to mention she’ll fuck you anywhere and anytime? Price’s desk? Sure. Simon’s bed? He ain’t there. In the heli waiting for the others? Fuck yeah.

GB!Kyle—Who fucking teases you until the end, will edge you till you’re begging for her fingers, her mouth, her toys. 👏 She 👏 will 👏 edge 👏 you 👏 Change my fucking mind. She is unhinged the moment you bring her to your bed or vice versa. Like GB!Simon, you are the pillow princess but you won’t fucking cum till she says so because she wants to appreciate your beautiful body! She fucking loves it when you moan out her name, begging and crying for her to let you have your orgasm after being edged for an hour! You’re about to go crazy. Did I forget to mention she’ll even leave you for a bit just to un-horny you then once you’re down she’ll fucking make you horny again? SO EVIL— but she’ll let you cum once she makes sure her name is the only thing in your mind before fucking you good and proper 😩🤌

GB!Alejandro—who treats you like a goddess, beck and call on good days, appreciates and caresses your body behind closed doors and loves to hear you whimper her name. Call her mi alma, she’s on her knees eating you out no questions asked, she’ll let you come whenever and however you want. She’ll fucking spoil you because you are her world, she can’t say no to a pretty thing like you.

…On her bad down days? She is grinding on you like you’re fucking dancing on the dance floor, though you have no clothes on and she’s practically overstimulating you, degrading you with both spanish and english words, doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. YOU know that she’s saying something so filthy it has you creaming on her tongue, the single dildo she bought for you that just stretches you out and hits the deepest spot because she loves to spoil her little whore too 😳 She’s not letting you off that bed because she needs you, she owns you right now and to damn hell she’s not gonna let you go. Not until your hair is a mess, your legs shaking, you breathing quaking, unable to comprehend words of affection in the aftermath 🫢🔥

#cod z #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #cod x you #modern warfare x reader #call of duty fanfiction #141 x reader #cod fanfic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #poly 141 x reader #cod 141 #mw2 141 #john price #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #GB!141 #genderbent #genderbent 141

[27vampyresinhermind]

Damn it!!!! So is the Kanchanaburi trip the turning point for all the relationships? That’s when Dean and Pharm level up. Is that when Win and Team are finally gonna admit their feelings to each other instead of just everyone around them!?!?!? At this point, the alphabet gang knows more about Team’s feelings for Win than Win does and he asked him point blank!

JUST TELL YOUR BOYFRIEND YOU LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!

Also, Win used the alphabet gang’s government names lmao!!! He’s like ‘I’ll call you whatever I want and you need to fucking answer’ and those three are just like ‘yes sir’. They learn pretty quick there’s certain things only Team can get away with.

Shit Team’s gonna meet the parents and Win’s introduction just adds to Team’s insecurities about their relationship. Win, if you leave it up to him to define the relationship, you’ll be married with a child and Team is still gonna be like “does he really like me? I bet he marries everyone to make them feel better. I’m not his special husband or anything.” Bitch you better fucking CLAIM him for the world and him to see so there’s no more questioning!!!!!!! Team is adorable but we’ve long established that the boy is no genius. You gotta spell it out for him, and then prolly spell it again because he’s not good at spelling.

Team instantly going into fight mode with those homophobes had me squealing. Like, he’s so protective of Pharm and knows that it would hurt Pharm’s feelings so he was ready to throw down. He won’t fight for himself but if it’s for people he cares about, he will cut a bitch.

Manaow, you’re doing great sweetie! Pruek is there for you cheering for you every step of the way! Damn, only straight dude in the series and girl got him eating out of the palm of her hand and she doesn’t even realize it!!! They’re so cute!!!

Bee was gonna throw hands at that Tum dude! So can we assume that the show Prince is in is a BL? So Prince is gonna be expected to do fanservice with his costar when the show airs? Their story is so cute, I just want the smol beans to be happy.

Waan is trying to piece things together and Tul is over there just stealing his puzzle pieces to keep him from seeing the whole picture! Bro! I know he said he didn’t want to meet in real life but that ship has so obviously sailed off the edge of the horizon you can’t see it anymore. There’s a fight that’s gonna happen when that all comes to light but I feel like it’s gonna end with a kiss because Tul just seems like the kind of dude to make out in the middle of an argument. He gives off those vibes.

Wiew is a literal ray of sunshine and he is collecting big brothers like Pokémon! Team, you have two owners now. I don’t make the rules. Win, if you fuck this up and make Wiew lose his new big brother, you’ll suffer the wrath of the sunshine child. And considering he has no fear running up the death stairs in fucking slippers, you should be scared!

Yet another NC scene we’ve been robbed of!!! And a bar bathroom NC scene at that!!! Not fair!!!!!!!

Whoa….I didn’t think I was gonna ramble this much about the ep. This kind of just became a stream of consciousness post about the ep. Sorry not sorry!

#between us the series #between us🥦 #broccoli day #happy broccoli day #between us #WinTeam #BounPrem #between us ep 7 #DeanPharm #PrukManoaw #WaanTul

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

ROTTMNT Headcanons: This one is long as shit so buckle up

The boys being able to mind-meld is a genuinely interesting concept 

But all I can picture is them fucking with each other 

Like can you imagine Donnie doing something really important and Leo drops a sick knock-knock joke 

Or the boys trying to sleep and Mikey goes “who wants to go to the grocery store with me?” at like 3 AM

I was also thinking “what would the group’s favorite season be?” 

April: fall

She loves cold weather and the colors and flavors of fall 

Raph: winter 

He also loves cold weather 

He handles it the best out of the boys and he adores Christmas 

Leo: summer 

He loves warm weather, he loves swimming, ice cream, and relaxing in the sun 

He hates cold weather (but he does love Christmas and Halloween) 

He gets cold so easily and the family scrambles to warm him up cause he goes into brumation easiest 

Donnie: fall 

One of the first things that April and Donnie bonded over was their love for fall

He also loves the weather and pumpkin-spiced lattes (cause me to bitch)

April Donnie and Leo will take little trips to a cafe in the hidden city order pumpkin-spiced lattes and talk shit 

Mikey: spring 

He’s the only one in the family without allergies 

The twins are allergic to bees 

And April and Raph have pollen allergies 

So they’re all suffering 

Mikey is thriving he loves the colors and the weather 

The twins can read each other easily 

Donnie has a natural poker face and monotone voice so the group has a really hard time getting a read on him

Leo has spent the past decade training his voice and face to be neutral when he’s upset 

There are times when the group pisses him off and they can’t even tell because he’s got his emotions under lock and key

But because the twins are so crazy similar they’re able to tell what the other is feeling

Donnie says it’s as easy as reading a children’s book

And Leo says it’s like looking in a mirror 

(They’ve bonded over being the most emotionally constipated bitches in a room (cause same))

I don’t know how this thought process came to be but I was thinking: who sleeps the lightest and heaviest 

April: is right in the middle 

She won’t wake up if there’s a small noise in the lair but she won’t sleep through an apocalypse either 

Raph: is the lightest sleeper 

And the loudest snorer 

Like no seriously is a miracle that the humans haven’t discovered them because you can hear Raph’s snoring from the surface 

But god forbid they walk near his room cause suddenly “IM UP IM UP” is being screamed 15 times

Like a sick twisted alarm clock

Leo: was a deep sleeper before the Kraang 

He could sleep through just about everything before the “almost end of the world” as the crew dubbed it 

He’s a close second to Raph but when he wakes up he’s alert and quiet whereas Raph is loud and drowsy 

Donnie: can sleep through just about anything 

He’s used to very loud sudden noises 

But if you touch him while he’s sleeping he’ll spring up like a Jack in the box 

Mikey: could sleep through an apocalypse

You can shake him, scream in his ear, rock the subway car he’s sleeping in, change his normal lights with strobe lights 

Nothing will wake this kid up before he’s ready 

This a trait he’s had since he was a tot and on more than one occasion Splinter thought he was dead 

I was also thinking who texts and who calls?

April: is the perfect mix between texting and calling 

She’ll text when she needs to and calls when she needs to

No one ignored her texts or calls cause most of the time it’s important information 

(and then sometimes she’ll call just to piss them off)

Raph: exclusively calls 

The group could text him “hey” and he will call them immediately 

It’s the most infuriating thing in the whole wide world 

Cause most of the time, all he says is “hey” and asks how they are and it results in a 30-second phone call 

It pisses off the twins 

Leo: only texts unless it’s crucial then he’ll call 

He hates phone calls with a burning passion 

And he’s one of those people who will respond to texts immediately 

When he calls his siblings they answer immediately cause they know it’s life or death 

Donnie: never calls

He’ll answer phone calls if he thinks they’re important 

And he answers texts pretty fast 

Unless he’s working then they’ll get a text back in 2-5 business days 

Mikey: mostly texts but will call his siblings for no goddamn reason 

He’ll call them to ask shit like “what kind of cereal do you think I am?” or “if someone held you at gunpoint and said ‘tap dance or die’ would you live?”

Which is why Donnie stopped answering his calls years ago

I have a gut feeling that Leo was a Greek Mythology nerd (cause I’m a Greek Mythology nerd)

And he came up with nicknames for his siblings

April is Arachne

Raph is Atlas

Donnie is Daedalus 

And Mikey is Achilles  

Donnie used to ask why Leo didn’t have one for himself

And Leo gave him the answer Prometheus “cause I’m a god amongst mortals” was he reasoning 

And when he tried to point out that Achilles, Altas, and Arachne arent mortal Leo told him to shut up

It wasn’t until the twins turned 18 that Donnie accidentally found out his real nickname 

Icarus

#the last one just felt right #cause Leo is a weird mix of Prometheus and Icarus #And that hurts me if I think about it for too long #I was gonna make Mikey Icarus at first #because at his core Icarus trusted his father's inventions to a point of overconfidence #But then I was like no that makes no sense #plus Mikey is the strongest brother (argue with a wall) #and he has one weak spot (his family) #And then it hit me #LEO #I could probably go into some detail on why I chose certain myths for certain characters if you want that #(i say knowing no one is going to want that) #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #disaster twins

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

48

Back to Gideon - Third skull, here comes Ianthe.

Her hair and skin were colourless; that pallid face brightened to see me. “Harry,” she said. Harrow, she was genuinely delighted to see you. The smile on that thin white face was real. “Harry, you’re—” I moved closer and totally fucking ruined her day. “Alive, bitch,” I said. That expression hardened like it had been dropped in quick-set concrete. [...] Ianthe flicked a lock of goo-stained hair over her shoulder, leaned against the kitchen wall, and said: “Oh—you.”

Some kind of plan has just been ruined, methinks.

There would be a goddamn reckoning. Nonagesimus, I was going to reck her. I said: “Do you want your ass kicked now, or do you want your ass kicked later, or both?” “Please, let’s address this like gentlewomen,” said Ianthe, without much hope.

Gideon, I fucking missed you.

“This can’t be happening.” “She’s not even into you, okay? It’s just the bones. She’s into bones.”

Gideon, I FUCKING MISSED YOU!!!!!

This better not be too short-lived, I really need more of Lyctor!Cav!Gideon in my life.

“You’re certain that Mercy tried to kill Harrow?” she said, after a moment. “Yeah.” “But that doesn’t— Why would she—?” “Do not fucking ask me for information. I could not be more lost right now.”

Oh Gideon. You've always been so adorably clueless. Have I mentioned that I've fucking missed you???

"Why did you ascend to be a Lyctor?” “Ultimate power—and posters of my face.” Fair.

Hahahahaha. Oh Ianthe.

But he had stopped dead, and he was looking at us. At your face. He looked at my eyes in your face in the same way the other Lyctor had, and any colour in his own drained straight away. [...] Augustine looked at us like we were the last thing he’d ever see. “John,” he breathed. And: “Joy.” And then—he fucking legged it.

What's got Augustine so goddamn scared? Hello???

At this point I'm halfway wondering if there's anyone who isn't plotting something against someone here. Gideon seems to be foiling a lot of plans here today.

“Hurry up. I have a letter for you,” said Ianthe. Harrow, it was in your handwriting. She handed me a fat, bulging envelope with your handwriting, and it said To be given to Gideon Nav, and I felt—strange. Time softened as I held it, and I didn’t even care about the barely repressed mirthful scorn on the other girl’s face.

Oh, this is one of the letters that Harrow couldn't know about!!! What does it say what does it say???

The letter was wrapped around a black, folded-up bunch of angles: smoked glass, thin black frames, mirrored lenses. A little bend in one arm, but otherwise—you’d kept my sunglasses. [...] ONE FLESH, ONE END.

Oh yay the sunglasses!!

And oh damn you past Harrow, you couldn't have written literally anything more enlightening??? Fuck!!!

Fuck one flesh, one end, Harrow. I already gave my flesh to you, and I already gave you my end. I gave you my sword. I gave you myself. I did it while knowing I’d do it all again, without hesitation, because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me. Which is, coincidentally, what your mother said to me last night.

I fucking missed you Gideon Nav!!!!!

And also, well, I'm glad we agree on Fuck One Flesh, One End.

She can’t love you. She can’t even try.” She said, way too carefully: “Oh, please, as though—” but I cut her off. “Don’t start the I was toying with her, mwah ha ha noise, because I won’t believe it. Your plan backfired, Tridentarius. You’ve got the sickness. I know the signs of Nonagesimitis. You were all lined up for a big hot injection of Vitamin H.” Ianthe scrubbed at her forehead briefly with her bone hand. “Really a corpse?” she said, with not totally believable carelessness.

Oh my god Ianthe. Oh my god Gideon. You're out here at the end of the world, and you're bonding over how you're both kinda in love with a girl who can never love you back. Oh my fucking god.

I died knowing you’d hate me for dying; but Nonagesimus, you hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I’d had your full attention.

I'm going to fucking cry.

now we are going to get out of my bedroom, and I am going to take you to Teacher.” The Emperor of the Nine Houses. The Necrolord Prime. I said, “No, thanks. I’m good.” “He needs to know. He can help you.” “I might lie down and see if this fixes itself,” I suggested. “Do you want Harrowhark to reclaim rightful ownership of her body, or not?” she asked reasonably.

Way too fucking reasonable. God can't help with this!!! You're taking Harrow's body to God so THE SLEEPER can take control of Harrow's body, and kill God.

That's probably, definitely what's happening here, and I really fucking hate it.

#harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth liveblog #htn liveblog #tlt liveblog #htn spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb

[munningham]

Chrissy lives AU - what comes next Part 2 (this ended up just being Christmas Break)

Part 1 here

After the night where Chrissy showed up on his doorstep at midnight, Eddie starts sneaking into Chrissy’s room every night once her parents go to bed. He makes her laugh and lets her cry and paints pictures with his words of the amazing life they’re building in Chicago. There’s a lot of hilarious mornings of Chrissy frantically trying to hide Eddie under the bed, in the closet, behind the door, before her mom comes in.

Eddie hears it all though. How Mrs. Cunningham talks to a Chrissy, the endless stream of backhanded compliments and criticisms and always always always comments about her body. Eddie knew Chrissy had it rough and eating disorders are no joke, but actually hearing the monologue that Chrissy has been listening to every day for 18 years.....it takes everything he has to not lose his shit and start screaming. Conformity really is killing the kids.

After the first morning he promises that he won’t leave until after Mrs. Cunningham has done her morning wake up call. He sits with Chrissy after her mom leaves the room and quietly has her repeat her therapist’s affirmations. You are loved. You are enough. Your body works just the way it is. You are strong and capable. She’s a stupid mean old bitch who never deserved you. (That one is Eddie’s).

They exchange gifts Christmas Eve night. It’s unconventional, but there’s something so beautiful about the two of them sitting on her bed with just a small light on, with the moon lighting the room through the snow falling outside. The first gift Eddie gives her he swears is not her real gift, but it makes her burst out laughing. Carefully wrapped in a box is Eddie’s old Black Sabbath tshirt. “I mean, it’s already yours, I hardly get a chance to wear it anymore, I figured we should just make it official” he forlorns, putting on a dramatic show of huffing and sighing like seeing Chrissy in that tshirt isn’t the hottest sight in the universe. Eddie’s next gift is a new necklace. It’s a crystal wrapped in gold wire, on a gold chain. Eddie made it himself, twisting the wire in spirals and swirls and carefully wrapping the ends so there would be no sharp edges. “This stone, it uh, it reflects light. It’s not a flashlight or anything but I just, I liked that it could give you light. And tell me if it’s too heavy, I don’t want it to be uncomfortable.” Chrissy kisses him soundly and wraps her arms around his neck. “I love it Eddie, it’s perfect. And no, it’s not too heavy.” It is weighted, but it’s a comfortable weight. Like it grounds her, she feels its presence when the world starts spinning out of control, like Eddie is there with her. She tells him it’s the best gift she’s ever gotten, but Eddie shyly hands her a third small wrapped box. She instantly takes back her words when she sees what’s inside: a mix tape of Eddie covering her favorite pop songs. George Michael and Cyndi Lauper sung by Eddie’s earnest, raspy voice with his guitar is the most beautiful music in the world. This gift makes her cry.

Chrissy also gives Eddie three boxes. The first is a new set of guitar accessories (slide, clamp, new strings, and a tuner that actually fucking works). She teases him that it’ll take all the fun out of watching him try to tune his guitar by ear or banging his old piece of shit tuner on the coffee table. “Veronica is gonna be so spoiled” Eddie grins. The second small box is a set of shiny black dice with silver numbering. They’re not the cheap dice Eddie’s been using since middle school, they’re really fucking nice. “Where the hell did you find these?” Eddie asks. Chrissy grins. “I asked the guys from the store in Chicago. They gave me their catalogs and let me put in an order through the store.” Eddie is impressed the store employees were even able to have that conversation with her - as loveable as those guys were, they were completely inept at pulling two words together in front of a pretty girl. The third box has a framed collage. It looks like a shadow box for a sports team, but it says “Hellfire Club”. It has the yearbook photos dating back to 1981, where a sophomore Eddie Munson stands grinning with a bunch of other freaks and rebels. Over the years the other kids in the photos change, but Eddie is always there, grinning with his tongue out making devil horns. The last photo Eddie doesn’t recognize. It’s not a yearbook photo. He looks closer and sees Henderson, little Wheeler, both Sinclairs, along with the new faces of Will Byers, Max and El, posing in the theater, proudly wearing their Hellfire T-shirts. “They actually kept it going?” Eddie softly asks. Chrissy grins and nods. “Every other Friday after school. They weren’t thrilled about taking a photo until I told them it was for you. You built something Eddie, you should be proud of it.” Eddie stares at the shadow box some more, with a wide smile on face, until he finally looks up. “You’re amazing Chrissy. God I love you.” “I love you more Eddie”. “Not even possible, princess”

Eddie has to go back for work after Christmas, but Chrissy’s break lasts until the end of January, so he calls in reinforcements from The Party. Between Christmas and the end of January, the Cunningham residence experiences a never ending stream of calls and visitors. Steve drops by to visit some afternoons and charms the pants off of her parents (“You know Chrissy, he’s going through a rough patch right now, but the Harringtons are such a good family, you should ask him over again”). Steve and Chrissy have definitely had very similar experiences, they have some heart to hearts about not living up to expectations and finding your people.

Steve’s presence is also not the worst thing in the world because Jason is also home for Winter Break. Jason stops by one afternoon, but when Steve opens the door and gives him a look, Jason leaves without ever coming in. Chrissy thanks him and then awkwardly tries to explain that Jason might think there’s something going on between them, and don’t get her wrong Steve is a great guy and would be an amazing boyfriend for someone, but she really loves Eddie. Steve smiles and shakes his head and cuts her off.

“Relax Chrissy, I know. Don’t think for a second I don’t see those eyes you and Munson make at each other, Jesus it’s disgusting. I also really don’t feel like being axed or stabbed or whatever these freaks do to guys who hit on their girls.”

Chrissy opens her mouth to object, then sees the smirk on Steve’s face. She lets him continue. “Jason’s an asshole. He’s one of those assholes who’s only ever going to think of girls as property. So, unfortunately that means he’ll only back down if he thinks another guy has “staked his claim” or some other macho bullshit. So if I have to swing by every so often and eat your mom’s sugar free cookies to keep him from bothering you, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

Chrissy smiles and gives him a warm hug. “You’re a really good guy Steve Harrington. You really don’t have another girl you’d rather be spending the holidays with?” Steve just hugs her back and doesn’t answer.

Robin and Nancy take Chrissy out during the day as much as possible. Nancy is also struggling with college and the pressure to live up to her own expectations and how do you find a normal when you sleep with shotguns and keep flamethrowers in the closet? Even with going to college with Jonathan, it’s still rough. Robin is living her best lesbian life at Smith. The 3 of them have lots of talks about finding yourself and being yourself and what are we supposed to do in this fucked up world anyway.

The Wheelers is still the place to hang out, so Eddie calls their house as often as he can without being annoying so he talk to Chrissy. Nancy runs interference when she needs to. (“She’s not here right now but she’s okay, Eddie, I promise.” “You don’t know what her mom is like Nance.” “I know, I know. I’ll call her after dinner tonight to check on her.”) Chrissy tells Eddie that Jason came by, but Steve scared him off. “So he’s going to uh, just like, “have a presence” I guess, to keep Jason away.” Eddie is not crazy about pretty boy Steve Harrington half-pretending to date Chrissy, but he also knows how dangerous Jason is, and Chrissy is there alone, and the whole damn town is rigged to back their golden boy, and honestly Steve is probably the one guy in Hawkins that Jason won’t take on. That doesn’t stop Eddie from calling up Steve and having a little chat with him, thanking him for helping with Chrissy and Jason but also, “just keep your fucking shirt on this time Harrington.”

#Jesus you just wish these kids had cellphones #I picture Mrs Cunningham as being like Lucille Bluth or Mother Adler from Wil and Grace but not funny #like all of the snark and comments and digs but without the love #and Jonathan took the photo of the Hellfire Club for Chrissy during break #it is quite OOC for Eddie to really not have kept in touch with Dustin or any of the kids during those first 5 months #but I really wanted this moment between Chrissy and Eddie #I’m sure they talked but just about other stuff #I don’t think Steve has a thing for Chrissy I just don’t know who he likes #some of the gift ideas are from other writers - a couple of fics have Eddie singing pop song covers for Chrissy #and someone on here did a thing where Eddie gave Chrissy a heavy dice necklace #I just forget who #and the gift of the old rock tshirt is from the og burnout and the cheerleader couple #the one and only Hyde and Jackie #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #eddie and chrissy #eddissy #st4 #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #nancy wheeler

[bemyawakening]

HAYLOFT; chapter two

fandom: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character

short summary: Marzia Moretti, known as Siren, is one of the secret agents of the CIA, meant to deal with missions quietly and gather information. Not only did she work on her biggest mission for seven years, digging for information about the Sicilian Mafia which was running the most secretive human trafficking business, but she also did this to get revenge. Recently, she gets assigned to Task Force 141 in order to finish the mission once and for all.

translation of Italian can be found at the end. You can also read this book on ao3

previous chapters: chapter 1

word count: 2685

warning: strong language, 18+

Siren was sitting like a child who just lost a piece of candy and she wasn’t going to try to hide the anger on her face. Seven fucking years. Chasing one lead after another, slowly digging into the whole system, working undisturbed and systematically only for it to be destroyed.

            Now, she had nothing against Price’s Task Force 141. She has heard quite a lot about what they have done over the past few years and they were the force the CIA talked about the most. They did everything clean and without casualties. Best traits of a Task Force. However, she didn’t see the need for her mission to be intervened with manpower. Backup is always appreciated, but that also meant that she wouldn’t be the one giving orders.

            “The look on your face,” Laswell commented as she was sitting in her office, Captain Price there as well.

            “What’s with my look?” Siren asked, crossing her hands over her chest while she crossed her legs over each other – how’s that for a closed body language?

            The older woman leaned back on her chair, “Don’t be childish.”

            “No, because this is bullshit, yeah?” She suddenly raised from her seat, but none of them moved further. “It’s my mission. My mission. I was the first one who got Intel about Luca Torro. I was the one who sniffed them out in Sicilia. Did this for seven years and now you replace me because you got information that they are connected in North America? We knew that!”

            Both Laswell and Price shared a look before they Price cleared his throat: “I understand your anger.”

            Extending her finger, Siren squinted her eyes: “No, you don’t.”

            “I know the importance of your mission. All I’m offering is help. And you know it’s not up to me. You do the job clean and well – I like that. But General Shepherd wants results,” Laswell tried to ease her anger.

            “This,” Siren exhaled, trying to calm herself down a little bit, “this is a delicate matter and we cannot rush it. We are talking about the biggest trafficking system in half of the world! Getting inside and shooting them all won’t finish this.”

            “That’s why you’re still in the mission,” Laswell pointed out. “General Shepherd wanted to get you off it, but I convinced him to leave you because the Special Forces will need your knowledge.”

            General Shepherd wanted to write her off this mission. What a fucking bitch! For a split second, she couldn’t think straight, seeing only red. Holding the edges of the table, she looked down, trying to even out her breathing. She gave seven years of her life for this. Seven years of a job that became her obsession and she was nothing without it.

            “So what results does he want?”

            Laswell stood up, passing her the file with everything they have gathered about the Torro, placing a hand on her shoulder: “Getting Luca Torro would be ideal. But the main goal is to get the locations of their bases of theirs. Swipe them clean. Gather the victims and get them to safety.”

            Turning her head to face the woman that she has worked with for over eight years now, she felt her heart slightly clench. Kate Laswell was the only person in the CIA who had common logic and wasn’t a complete dickhead. She knew that Laswell did everything she could to at least keep her on the mission and she’ll have to make it work.

            Grabbing the file, she nodded and looked at Captain Price who was already looking at her with a tiny smile, knowing that she will agree eventually.

            “Welcome to Task Force 141,” he said and she huffed out air, pressing the file between her ribs and her arm, squeezing it. “I think we should get back on some training before getting to the mission. Remind you of the rules.” He clearly was teasing her.

            “Respectfully, sir,” she said with a glare, “I think I’ll do fine without it only if your boys will behave.”

            Captain Price hasn’t heard her call him sir ever since he was her mentor and he almost cringed hearing it. He didn’t even realise how much he has grown to this girl throughout all these years and knowing that she will be under his watch, felt nostalgic.

            “Oh, my boys are the best there is,” he confidently admitted.

            Laswell snorted, slightly shaking her head: “They’re a handful, but they do their job well. Try not to cause any casualties.”

            “Me?” She raised her eyebrows. “As if I could do anything to them.”

            The older woman pressed her lips together, watching her for a few seconds, tapping her shoulder before walking to her table, saying the following words not to her, but to Price: “Keep an eye on her. She definitely changed a lot after you mentored her.”

            “Hell, I saw her file myself,” he agreed.

            Watching them with a glare, she was reminded of the old times when Laswell and Price used to bicker about the smallest things and she would always end up in this office because of something Siren has caused.

            Let’s say, Siren wasn’t exactly the nicest person. She didn’t do well with discrimination and when she was training, she got more remarks about her ass than anything else from the others. There were a few casualties when her teammates ended up at the medic and she had to live through the glare of Kate Laswell. That’s why Siren preferred to work alone – you only depended on yourself and there was no one to hold you back or put you out of the tracks.

            “Alright, kid,” Price cleared his throat, walking to the door, “time to go.”

            Giving a last nod to Laswell, she realised that once she will step out of the door, she will lose the little routine she has grown to depend onto. She knew that missions with Special Forces were far from quiet and ordinary. All she wanted to do was get on her knees and beg them to leave her alone, but she had to work for the consequences she placed upon herself.

            She had to remember why this mission was important. That’s why she stepped through the doorway.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

            The dog tags carried her identity. Choosing, getting forced to join Task Force 141, she had to leave her identity behind. Analyst Siren, who held the dog tags in the drawer away from her eyes. Analyst Siren, who exchanged the cargo for fancy dresses and red lipsticks. The nostalgia seemed to twist her stomach, making her vision blurry, and making her realise a few things on the way to the base.

            Perhaps, it wasn’t the mastermind quality of Luca Torro that kept her chasing after him all these years. Perhaps, she didn’t know who she was without this mission. Thinking about what she could’ve been for all of these seven years—Lord, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be a soldier, but the gun always found her hands.

            The dog tags were burning into her skin, and felt too heavy, pulling her down. The ring attached to them was leaving scars, yet felt so cold. It made her realise that she made her life obsessed with the mission and getting revenge. Oh, how she dreams to put a bullet in Torro’s head. Would the taste of revenge heal her? Show her that she isn’t rotten inside?

            “I can see it’s tough on you, kid. But I promise that the boys are the best they are. It’s not training anymore – they actually have brains,” Price interrupted her moping as she fixated her eyes on the passing horizon that was blurring in her eyes from the sunset colours.

            “Can’t believe Shepherd wanted me off completely,” she admitted, voice slightly huskier than normal.

            Tapping the wheel, he focused on the road as he was driving:  “You know better than me how he is. Weird things can change his mind, don’t put his decision on your shoulder.” He pointed out. “Is it so horrible to be working with me again?”

            Turning her head to him, putting on a cold expression, she spoke: “Yes, Price. You eat beans with a piece of white bread in the missions. That shit scars you when you see it.”

            The man snorted: “You haven’t even tried it – can’t say shit about it!” There was nothing Captain Price was more passionate about than the damn can of beans.

            Siren chuckled and turned her head away, took look at the passing horizon, feeling the silence fill up the jeep. He was slightly tapping the wheel, but there was no music playing, meaning that he wanted to tell her something.

            “Just tell me,” she croaked out.

            “Can’t. You’ll probably attack me and we’ll both die in a car crash.”

            The woman raised her eyebrows: “Price, just tell me.”

            “Laswell didn’t tell you, left me the honour,” he sighed. “Shepherd insisted that you’d have a commanding officer to supervise you.”

            It was foolish of her to think that Shepherd couldn’t think even lower about her. “You didn’t just tell me that…”

            The threatening tone in her voice was well awaited, so he gripped the wheel tighter: “He thinks your teamwork can be a bit rustic, kid. No one doubts your fighting skills.”

            Digging her fingers into her cargo pants, she closed her eyes and smiled pathetically. “This is humiliating. So fucking humiliating,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

            “Shepherd knows you’re the best he has. He just doesn’t want any casualties.”

            “Dio mio, Price!” Her sudden sharp tone almost made him twitch. “We’ve been on missions together – I have the responsibility to be a team player! I know the consequences and how should I act.”

            “Never doubted you, kid. Don’t think these words‘re coming from me. You know I hate being the messenger.”

            Closing her eyes again, she rubbed her temples: “Well, it doesn’t matter. You being my commanding officer will be just like old times.”

            There was a silence after her words. Five more seconds of silence and she opened her eyes, turning her head to him. He wasn’t her commanding officer, now was he?

            “Yeah… About that,” he started awkwardly. “Why don’t we have this conversation when we are out of the car with a zero possibility of us crashing?”

            “Who is my commanding officer, Price?”

            The man sighed, giving up. “Lieutenant Ghost.”

            Siren has heard some things about Lieutenant Ghost. Price has slightly mentioned who consists his team and about the Lieutenant he has said the least, telling her ‘You’ll see yourself.’ There were a few whispers in the CIA about Task Force 141 and Ghost, but it was just simple intimidation and rumours.

            The jeep soon enough pulled at the base, guarding soldiers and saluting their Captain as they got out of the jeep. She took her stuff out of the trunk, putting her two backpacks over her shoulders and another two in her hands, following the Captain to the main building.

            While walking, she didn’t focus on the passing soldiers or that the base was bigger than before. She kept swallowing a bitter gulp of embarrassment down her throat. There was no more Analyst Siren that worked alone. There was now Sergeant Siren from Task Force 141, a team player. She had to remind herself that dealing with the mission was far more important than dealing with her own hurt feelings.

            They soon stepped into a separate division, undisturbed by other soldiers and she dropped her things near the table and walked further near a kitchen where a few guys were gathered. She realised how much she craved having someone to talk to, but at the same time, she was bitter as a wet cat.

            “Boys,” Price started, gesturing at her, “this is Sergeant Siren from the Terrorism and Russian and European departments in the CIA. Now, she’s one of us, treat her nicely.”

            “A secret agent, eh? It’s a pleasure, lass,” a thick Scottish accent reached her ears and she nodded, remembering that this must be Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. He was a tall, muscular guy with a Mohawk, but the grin on his face told her that he was the trickster in this group and that the two of them will get along.

            “Remember me?” A silent voice made her turn her eyes to the right from the Scottish man to a familiar face that put a smile on her face.

            Quickly walking to him, she shared a hug with Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, who she has worked with on missions before. A few years ago, she had a tiny crush on him, but she kept it all professional as it all faded away eventually. However, it was nice to see not one, but another familiar face in the Task Force.

            “You look well, Gaz,” she said as she pulled away, tapping his shoulder before her eyes dropped to the man, standing in the corner.

            Porca miseria!

            The man was a size of a mountain, making all of them look like they were fucking teenagers. His crossed arms were flexing in the pullover, threatening to rip the material. He was calm, unmoving and that was the moment she realised where the intimidation came from. He was wearing a black balaclava with a skull sewn into it. Only two, dark eyes were visible and they were clearly looking right through her.

            She held her breathing, looking at him, realising now why Price was so hesitant to tell her about her new commanding officer. It felt like if she will try to ease the mood in front of that man, she will get that look which makes her feel as if she belongs with the worms in the soil.

            Price noticed the little staring match and nodded: “That’s Lieutenant Ghost. Your commanding officer.”

            “Where did you serve?” His voice was gravel. Rough, as if she was walking on pebbles with her bare feet. The shivers were twisting her back, but she grinned.

            “Italian Special Forces.”

            “You’re Italian?” Soap raised his eyebrows almost with sound.

            Her Italian accent was non-existent – a part of her job was to sound nothing like her real identity. Ar the CIA, she has worked with dialect experts, to make sure that every language she knows would sound as if she is truly a native speaker. However, when she was being emotional or nervous, her accent would slip up.

            “I’m your ears for the mission,” she admitted, knowing that there were very few people in the CIA or Special Forces who know Italian.

            “When was the last time you were on the battlefield?” Lieutenant didn’t budge again and she sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the shivers appear again.

            “Every day, Tenente,” she pushed her hands behind her. “Last time I was on a mission with Captain about four years ago. If you are worried if I’ll make it to the target – my aim is good.”

            His eyes were alluring, making her have a hard time keeping eye contact. So much for her own tactic being used against her. “I have heard about you, Siren,” the Manchester accent was oddly attractive, making her feel slightly dizzy.

            And the way he said her name… Fuck her.

            “What have you heard about me?” She raised her eyebrows slightly, keeping the tension growing.

            “Clean cuts in the throat, never too deep. Enough to kill someone without making a lot of mess,” he responded, not shifting one bit. “You’re silent, good for infiltration.”

            “Someone’s been snooping around,” she murmured.

            “Wouldn’t call it snooping if you’re under my watch, Sergeant.”

            “I’ll behave,” she promised, but it didn’t sound as sincere as she expected it to.

            His hands slightly twitched, his body moving to the wall a little bit more, the look leaving hot trails on her face. “Welcome to Force Task 141.”

            It wasn’t just her who felt the thickened air between the two. Everyone’s heart slightly increased their rating. Dio mio, she’ll behave like a nice fucking girl if that means getting to watch him longer.

Translations:

"Dio mio" - Oh my God in Italian

"Tenente" - Lieutenant in Italian

"Porca miseria!" - For God's sake in Italian

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