#i need these for a fic so everyone gets to see them

[helen-with-an-a]

Out of Position

Hi. So, I'm not really sure I like this but hey-ho. I'm trying to write my masters dissertation so fics may be few and far between loll but I wanted to write something. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Lucy Bronze x reader

Description: R has to play out of position for Barça

Word Count: 1.5k

The season had been … tough, to say the least.

The start of the season was great, you were playing your favourite 6 or 8 positions. You were happy there – you were racking up assists, you had your name on score sheets more regularly. Things were really looking good for you. You were in the Starting XI regularly, slowly increasing the minutes to full matches every week. Your national team coaches had noticed your efforts to, soon earning that number 8 shirt at international level. Things were looking really, really good.

And then Mapi got injured. That was a blow to the team, no doubt. Her infectious energy was sorely missed during trainings, her technical prowess and defensive knowhow that were so integral to the team was difficult to replicate. But everyone was managing incredibly well. Slowly but surely, you were being played further away from where you were comfortable. And then Alexia was out again too. Another massive knock. Not just for the team, seeing the Captain out of commission was hard on everyone, but for you in particular. You were slowly being played further back on the pitch than you were entirely comfortable with. You weren’t a defender. You did your part, when necessary, but you weren’t a defender. You were never fully happy making those harsh tackles and committing essential fouls. Your main form of defence came from interceptions – your speed was something to be noted by all commentators. You were always the first onto a wayward ball. It was something you prided yourself on. It was something the whole team prided themselves on, none-so more than Lucy.

You didn’t know how it happened really, but by the away El Clásico, your picture was being displayed on screen in the no. 5 position. Who would have thought you would end up playing against Real Madrid as a centre-back? Especially when considering you started the season as an attacking midfield and borderline striker?

“I can’t do this.” You were full on panicking in the changing rooms. Your hands were gripping the bench so tightly your knuckles were turning white; your wide frantic eyes flittered nervously around the room; your skin was cold and clammy, your breathing erratic. You were on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sí, puedes, chica.” Patri soothed, running her hand in wide comforting circles along the length of your back. You had been fine during training, and most of the warmup but you had seen Moller Hansen give you, what you interpreted to be, a menacing glare, and something had snapped in you. “Amiga, you need to breathe” Patri reminded you, exaggerating her own breathing to try and prompt yours. It wasn’t working. Marta and Irene were with you, both looking on with some concern. “Ves a buscar la Lucy.” Patri ordered one of them, not taking her eyes off you. You had moved one hand from the bench to your thigh, your nails pressing harshly into the muscles, dragging unforgiving lines up and down.

Not 30 seconds after the door swung shut behind Marta, a very concerned Lucy appeared by your side, worry etched on her face.

“Can’t … do it,” you struggled to get the words out. Lucy’s heart shattered at your words. She had seen the hours you had put in, the number of dates you had rain checked to stay late with the defensive coaches, the frequent mornings when she had woken up, alone with your side of the bed cold with a note on your pillow telling her that coffee was in the machine, she just needed to press start and that you’d see her at training. If she didn’t know where you were, she would be concerned you were cheating on her. But no, you were in the gym at the crack of dawn, strengthening your muscles and pushing yourself to go beyond your previous limits. She was exhausted just looking at the work you were doing. But it wasn’t in vain. You looked so natural in the back line; anyone that didn’t know you would think you were comfortable. But no one saw these moments and sheer and raw terror that coursed through your veins moments before you stepped out of the changing rooms.

“You can, pretty girl. I promise you; you can do it.” Lucy said, gently crushing you to her chest. She was sad to admit that this was a common occurrence.

“Scared,” you croaked out. “let the team down.”

“No, my love, you will never let us down. I promise. You can never, ever let anyone down.” She cooed, her fingers dipping under your shirt to run her nails over your bare back. She pulled back after a few moments, waiting until your breathing evened out a little bit – her comforting smell washing over you and soothing your body more than any words could do. She cupped your face, gently running her thumb across your cheek. “I love you, so, so much. There are 10 other girls on that pitch, all of them believe in you. You wouldn’t be out there if the club didn’t think you could do this.” She said her words with such conviction. You took a deep breath and nodded – not believing her words, but the noise outside the changing room was growing louder, signalling that both teams were ready to go. You were still incredibly nervous, but you did have a job to do after all. You both left the changing room hand-in-hand, taking your customary places at the back of the line.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” She whispered in your ear as she caught you staring off into the distance. You turned to look at her, a slightly guilty look on your face as your bite your lip harshly. “I love you,” she said emphatically.

“I love you,” you said softly back, not as nervous as you were before, but definitely not good.

It was a tough match. Real Madrid had really stepped up their game since the last time you were out. It was a 1 – 1 all draw that was growing more precarious every minute. You had just 10 minutes left of the match and both sides were determined to break the stalemate.

 Madrid were on the attack, having been able to pick out weaknesses in Barça’s defence. Lucy had drifted too far from her position, letting Carmona utilise the space by making a speedy break for it. You were the furthest back in your team’s line up. Your muscles were aching, your face was red with effort, yet you had to win this ball back. You couldn’t let Cata take on Carmona and Caicedo all by herself. You ran. Hell, you practically flew down that flank, pushing yourself harder and faster than you ideally wanted to.

You knew exactly what Olga was going to do before she did it. Maybe it was your experience up front? Maybe it was all the hours you had spent reviewing footage of various players you would face in the league? But you abandoned your chase on Carmona, changing your momentum to catch up to Caicedo just at the right time. Cata had drifted to the right in anticipation of Olga’s strike, but you knew she wouldn’t attempt the shot – not when Caicedo was sitting wide open with a goalkeeper-less net in front of her. You threw your body into the header – it was easily the harshest one you had given all season – possibly your whole career. Your technique was perfect though as you caught only the ball, using your momentum to bounce the ball away from the goal before bouncing painfully on the ground. You quickly rushed to your feet, watching Cata take advantage of a very confused Caicedo and a disappointed Carmona to chase the ball and boot it out into the stands.

There was a moment of quiet – at least it was quiet for you – before the world came back into focus. Your heartbeat was in your ears, your chest rising and falling dramatically as you sucked in precious oxygen. Cata was the first to get her hands to you. She shook your shoulders almost violently, your head wobbled comically at the action.

“Tu nena preciosa,” she shouted, kisses raining down on your forehead. You felt head pats and light taps on your back as you made your way back into your position.

Finally, the full whistle went. Barça had won El Clásico yet again (although it was tougher than anyone cared to admit)

“You …” Lucy said as her warm arms wrapped you in a hug. “That was the best defending I have ever seen.” She smiled, clearly wanted to say and do more.

“I learned it from you,” you whispered as you squeezed back. “The flying header. A Lucy Bronze special,” you teased.

“And you said you couldn’t defend.” She scoffed. “I’m so proud of you.” She said, pressing kisses into your sweaty hairline. You blushed profusely but smiled, nonetheless. That was all you really wanted, to make Lucy proud. “I think this calls for a treat, don’t you?” She whispered seductively into your ear as she dragged you into the changing rooms, a sly smirk dancing on her lips.

Hope you enjoyed reading <3<3<3<3

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso #barca femeni #woso fanfics #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso oneshot #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #barca women #fc barca #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona women #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #engwnt #england women

[discordantwritings]

Creative Cures (Mihawk x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, sex pollen trope (but it’s a devil fruit power), the inherent dubcon of sex pollen but the con is as con as it can get under the circumstances, intercrural sex, PiV sex, creampie, mild cumplay, semi public sex

WC: 3.3k

Summary: As a relatively high ranking Marine doctor you were in charge of Dracule Mihawk’s post mission check ups. Normally you don’t have to do anything- until he shows up sick.

The only solution both you and him can agree on is a little… unconventional

Notes: I (lovingly) blame @fanaticsnail for this. All of her lovely sex pollen fics pushed me over the edge to write this one so go check hers out. Go.

Tagging: @keiva1000

Most Marines didn’t like it when Mihawk had to come check in and give his after mission report in person. But you barely considered yourself a Marine anyways, always thinking of yourself as a doctor first before anything. A doctor who just so happened to be in charge of doing all of Mihawk’s post mission check ups.

Of course it took him a while to actually agree to do any sort of post mission work, but despite his generally sour attitude inside the Marines base he was never mean to you. Dismissive? Sure. Non-compliant with any medical advice you’d give? Yes. But that’s what you dealt with on a day to day basis. He was one of the few people you could have intelligent conversation with- he would listen to you and you would cherish the snippets of traveling stories you would get out of him.

Your check ups were never more than a handful of minutes, you had never seen him get more than a scratch, but he always let you run down your required checklist. Despite this you always cleared out half your day, just in case. So today, a day he was set to check in at your base, you sat patiently in your office until he was done talking with your superiors.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Until, finally, there was a frantic knock on your door before a frazzled looking cadet burst in. You immediately stand up and get serious- mass injuries were unfortunately commonplace for you to deal with and he had the scared look of someone who just saw a ship roll in half destroyed.

“Doctor-“

“How bad.”

“It’s Mihawk.”

That caught you entirely off guard and your stomach drops. “How bad?”

“We don’t know. He was giving his report and then he looked flushed and that’s when he ran out. Apparently he’s locked himself in some spare office and won’t come out.” He explains and you slowly get more and more concerned.

You quickly grab your bag and sling in over your shoulder, practically pushing the cadet out the door with you as you order him to show you where Mihawk is. It’s a quick jog down hallways and stairs but eventually you get to a door with two cadets on either side. One of your captains is leaning on the wall across from the door looking exasperated.

“The only thing he’s telling us is to leave him alone.” The captain explains, gesturing to the door.

You sigh and walk up to the door, rapping on it with your knuckles. “Mihawk, you’ve got everyone worried out here.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Mihawk’s voice, muffled from behind the steel door. “Doctor?”

“Everyone said you looked sick.” You explain.

There’s a long pause and you’re about to speak again before you hear his voice. “You all need to get out of here.”

You see the captain throw up his hands in your peripheral and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Turning your attention back to your fellow Marines you gesture down the hallway.

“Give me a few minutes alone with him.” You don’t need to tell them twice, and they eagerly take the relief.

You wait a few beats for them to clear out and then turn your attention back to the door. “Alright, it’s just us.”

“I thought I made it clear that all of you needed to leave me alone.” You can tell he’s close to the door, which you take as somewhat of a good sign.

“Look, if it’s something contagious I just need to know. If it’s something embarrassing I’m a doctor and I take confidentiality incredibly seriously.” There’s silence and you lean on the door. “Just let me help you.”

You hear him moving behind the door and then the heavy sound of the lock turning. You give him a few seconds before you enter, closing the door after yourself immediately.

All the lights are off, only the small amount of light through the high circular windows illuminating the space. It takes you a second to locate Mihawk but eventually you find him, shoulders hunched as he leans on an abandoned desk. It’s jarring to see his normally perfect posture gone and even in the low light you can see the intense flush over his face and exposed chest. You don’t need a thermometer to see that his temperature is dangerously high.

“What happened?” You don’t approach him, hoping the space gives him some comfort.

“It was-“ He breaks off as he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Some Devil Fruit user. Don’t know what the power was but I inhaled some smoke and then-“

He trails off and you know you’re probably in a bit over your head. Devil Fruit powers could be quite literally anything. You shove all that down though and hope your nervousness doesn’t show. “What are your symptoms?”

Mihawk shakes his head. “This was a mistake I shouldn’t have let you in you need to-“

“Mihawk I need you to tell me.” You’re unsure where this confidence is coming from, there’s not a world in which you would ever be in a position to tell a warlord what to do. But to your surprise, it works.

“I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.” He practically growls.

“You have my word.”

“Fine.” You see him shift and it looks like he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. “I have a fever, I am experiencing some mental fog, and my senses seem to be heightened.”

It’s your years as a doctor that let you immediately know he’s holding something back. “And?”

His gaze darts up and he glares at you making your blood run ice cold. If looks could kill you would be a pile of viscera on the floor. Despite this, he does give you and answer.

“I am in an… unnatural state of arousal.”

Oh.

That would certainly explain a few things.

You let your doctor brain take over as you set your bag on the ground, opening it and looking through what you have. Medication wouldn’t help since the cause was a Devil Fruit power but…

“Okay. I have a few ideas.” You reach into your bag and pull out an ice pack, throwing it over to Mihawk who easily catches it and presses it to his forehead. “The first is what you are doing, which is isolate until the effect stops. I’m not sure this is the best idea since you seem to be incredibly uncomfortable.”

“What else.”

“I could sedate you and hopefully have it flushed out of your system by the time you wake up.” You offer, showing him the vial of clear liquid.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to be further incapacitated around you Marines.” He spits out the last word and you would be offended if you actually considered yourself a Marine.

“Alright. Those are my… sensible ideas.”

“Which implies there are insensible ones. Spit it out.”

You can’t blame him for being short but it didn’t make your next concepts any easier to say. “I could find you someone to… ride it out with.”

That idea hangs in the air and you watch Mihawk screw his eyes shut, clearly struggling. “I don’t- it’s insufferable enough to be vulnerable on a Marine base but you want to bring in some stranger-“

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

A thought pops into your head as you scramble for more ideas as Mihawk’s composure slowly keeps slipping. It’s a stupid thought, one a doctor like you shouldn’t have even had. But in the moment, pressed for ideas, it tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think properly about it.

“I would help you.”

You realize what you’ve said a moment too late and wish that somehow the floor would swallow you whole. It’s not like you don’t want to- it’s clear that your stupid monkey brain has always held on an attraction to the incredibly handsome warlord- but offering yourself up like this?

Beyond wildly inappropriate.

“Don’t say things like that.” Mihawk says as he backs up a few steps and shame hits you like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry- it was- you shouldn’t be with anyone when you’re compromised like this I’ll just-“ You fumble over your words and quickly turn to unlock the door and get out of there.

Before your hand can even reach the handle an arm comes out from behind you and slams on the door. Suddenly you feel the intense heat of Mihawk’s body behind you, heavy breath fanning over the back of your neck. He doesn’t press into your body but instead hovers and your mind can’t quite keep up with the sudden change in events.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it.” His voice is low and dripping with lust.

Your gaze is locked forward as you try to control your breathing. “I meant it.”

“Last chance.”

The professional part of your brain gets smashed to smithereens as he presses his body against yours. “If you’re sure you want this then-“

The air is knocked out of your lungs as he steps forward, pushing you harshly into the door. One hand knots in your hair while the other snakes around your waist and pulls you in impossibly closer. The grip on your hair forces your head to the side, giving Mihawk the space to attack your neck, teeth digging into your skin immediately. As he does so he grinds his hips up and you can feel just how painfully hard he is against your ass.

The hand on your waist pulls at your uniform pants and you quickly get the idea, using your free hands to shove them down. You’re only able to get them just over your ass with how your legs are pressed apart by Mihawk’s but that seems to be enough for him. His hands leave you for a second and you hear the clatter of his belt before both hands tightly grip your hips.

You feel his cock slide between your folds, not entering you but instead sliding between your lips. His shaft is almost scorching hot as it slides against your clit, slick dripping from you and easing his shallow and fast thrusts.

“I just- fuck I just have to take the edge of your so-“ The grip on your hips is bruising as he holds you still to use you.

“It’s alright just-“ You can practically feel every vein against your sensitive clit and you bring one of your hands up and back to dig into his hair.

The scratch of your nails in his scalp is all Mihawk needs to tip over the edge, grunting as he spills onto the door and your thighs. You feel his heavy breath on your neck as he collects himself but the hardness against you doesn’t fade. You hear frustration in a low growl against your back but despite this he places kisses over the deep bite marks he created on your neck.

Slowly Mihawk pries his body away from yours and you take the opportunity to quickly toe off your shoes and slip your pants all the way off. When you turn around you see Mihawk watching you from a large chair, slowly pumping his cock, soaking from you slick.

“Get the rest of that god awful uniform off doctor.” You quickly discard your jacket and pull your shirt over your head, earning an appreciative hum from Mihawk. “What a pity you have to hide all that.”

You flush under his compliment and piercing gold gaze. With his free hand he beckons you over and you obey without hesitation. The second you’re close enough he pulls you into his lap, your thighs pushed apart by his spread ones. Your hands grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself as his hands find your hips once more.

“Normally I would work you open darling but-“ He nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before one incredibly strong hand pushes you down while the other lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him as his tip presses into you, stretching you out. You curse as he pushes into you a bit faster than you can adjust, but probably significantly slower than he wants to fuck into you. The sting feels good mixed with the way Mihawk curses and praises you under his breath, words barely understandable as his fingers bruise your waist.

“Just like that- so fucking tight-“ He mouths at your collarbone as you sink down and your head falls back as he splits you open.

Soon enough your hips meet his and you moan and dig your nails into Mihawk’s shoulders. He can’t help but shallowly thrust up into you, hot breath fanning over your skin as his instincts seem to overwhelm him. Once you feel ready you work to move your hips in time with his, pulling yourself up and down further on his length.

“That’s it- you’ve been waiting for an excuse to fuck yourself on my cock huh? Proper little doctor- I’ve seen how you- fuck- how you look at me.” You flush with embarrassment and look down to see his golden eyes blown out by darkness.

Maybe you should have some shame, knowing you were seen through so easily, but when he looks up at you like that you can’t think of anything else. You quickly press your lips to his and he seems caught off guard for a second- only to quickly overtake the kiss. One strong hand grips the back of your neck and holds you in place as his tongue slips between your lips. You stay like this until your lungs scream at you and you push yourself back and gasp for air.

You’re about to lean in for another kiss when you notice Mihawk’s gaze quickly dart to the door. You’re confused for a second but soon a loud knocking bounces off the steel door.

“Doctor- status report?” One of the cadets yells through the door and you swear under your breath.

You stop your movements, hoping to catch your breath and sound somewhat put together but Mihawk has other ideas. The second you falter he grabs your hips and starts moving you up and down effortlessly and when you glare at him he only grins up at you.

Seems he still has the mental capacity to be an ass.

“We are-“ You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop a moan after a skillfully directed thrust. “We are quarantining until some of my tests are- are done processing.”

There’s a pause before the cadet responds. “Okay… are you alright? You’re not sick are you?”

When one of Mihawk’s hands leave your hips you know something is up and you’re able to bite down on your hand in time to stifle the moan that leaves your body when his skilled fingers find your clit. You’re so close to an orgasm but you fight it back just long enough to get this stupid cadet out of here.

“Quarantine this hallway until my further say- that’s an order!” You yell out and you hope and pray the cadet doesn’t hear the pleasure in your voice.

“Y-Yes!” The voice shouts back and you hope he’s running down the hall because you can’t take this anymore.

“What would your fellow Marines think?” Mihawk’s voice, cruel and playful, rings in your ears. “They’re precious doctor getting fucked stupid by a pirate- fuck you like that don’t you?”

You can only nod, overwhelmed by hick cock and fingers skillfully taking you apart.

“You’re squeezing me so tight- just- need you to cum all over my cock- you can do that can’t you? Cum for me-“ There’s a hint of desperation in his voice and his command breaks any last tethers you were using to hold off your orgasm snap.

Mihawk swears loudly as your walls convulse around him and it’s only seconds later he’s holding your hips down hard against his and spilling inside you. You lay your forehead on Mihawk’s shoulder as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Even after you catch your breath he’s still hard inside you and you know you’re not done yet.

“I just want to see- hold on.” Is the only warning you get before Mihawk is standing up.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips but his strong hands on your ass are more than enough to keep you up. He moves a few feet to the desk, setting you down on it and tapping your thigh once you’re settled. You get the idea and unlatch your legs, letting him slip out and away from you.

“Let me see.” Mihawk says as he pushes your knees apart, eyes transfixed between them. “Fuck.”

He watches as his cum leaks out of you, his fingers quickly scooping it up and shoving it back inside of you. In any other headspace you might think that was disgusting but the way he watches you and is claiming you makes it incredibly arousing. Once he’s satisfied he brings his fingers up to your mouth and you automatically take them between your lips, tasting the mix of your fluids.

“I’m- fuck- you’re perfect.” He seems reluctant to take his fingers from your mouth but the second both his hands are free he’s easily flipping you around and pushing your chest into the desk.

There’s no warning before he’s plunging into you again, your hips roughly meeting the edge of the wooden desk. You don’t really feel the pain amongst the pleasure, oversensitive from your previous orgasm. You feel open mouth kisses pepper your spine as he thrusts into you from behind. While one of his hands stays on your hips- your skin practically indented in the shape of his fingers there now- one reaches down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze before he pushes your leg upwards. The new angle is heavenly as you just let yourself be used- sliding forwards and backwards on the desk with each powerful thrust.

“Need you to- fuck darling I just need you to cum on me again- please I need to feel it-“ Mihawk sounds so desperate, a whine to his voice that he no longer can hide. “Just a little bit more for me-“

Your body seems to crave following his commands and another orgasm is ripped from your sensitive body. Only a few moments later you feel him cum inside you again, and you’re confident at this point he’s dripping out of you onto the floor.

“So good for me- taking all my cum-“ He’s breathless as he pulls out of you again and you don’t need to turn around to know he’s staring at your fucked out hole.

When he actually give you space for a minute you turn your head, still using the table to support your weight. “You feel better?”

“Hm…” His hand skates up your back, soothing you. “Feeling just sated enough to get you back to the room I’m staying in.”

The prospect of going more rounds was overwhelming but you can’t deny that you wanted it more than anything. One problem.

“If anyone sees me I think they’ll figure out some of what happened.” From your messed up hair, the bruises forming on your neck, and the fact that there’s no way you’ll be able to walk normally- yeah it’ll be obvious you were just fucked within an inch of your life.

“Oh doctor.” He pulls you up off the desk and places a surprisingly tender kiss on your forehead. “If anyone else sees you like this I’ll kill them.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #x reader #discordantwritings

[rynwritesreid]

Idea for fic: enemies to lovers Dom older Spencer and f reader with age gap can’t stand eachother at work and then away on a case they get paired up to be in a room and there’s one bed anyways reader goes and showers and comes out wearing nothing but her bra and panties since she left her tank top the bed and Spencer is shocked and teases her all night and thennnnn rest is history😏

A/N: has this been sat in my inbox for over 3 months? Yes. I hope this makes up for the wait, sorry it tool awhile :( but I did see it when it was first asked, but I’ve been dealing with a lot in the past few months, and I’ve been dealing with some writers block. But I hope you guys enjoy it :)

Summary: Basically what ANON asked for. Spencer and reader hate each other, but Emily has a plan that could resolve all the issues or make them worse.

Content: Fem!reader. Dom!Reid/Sub!reader. Use of Y/N. Spanking. Degradation kink. Praise Kink. Power imbalance kink (kind off). Use of sir, slut, good girl and sweetheart. PinV/creampie. No mentions of contraception. No mentions of aftercare.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

You and Spencer hated each other. Maybe it’s because Spencer felt genuine competition from you, or maybe it was because you seemed to effortlessly outshine him in everything you did. And well you hated him, because every time Spencer walked into a room, he carried with him an air of superiority that grated against your nerves. You could see the jealousy in his eyes whenever someone praised your work or complimented your achievements.

Everyone had grown tired of the way you both acted around here. Emily would often call you both into her office to yell, “You are two of the best agents. Two brilliant minds. And yet no one can stand to be in the same room as you two.” 

You both sat in Emily's office, the tension thick between you. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as Emily’s words hung heavily in the air. You couldn't deny the truth in Emily's words - your rivalry with Spencer had reached a breaking point, affecting not only your own work but the entire team dynamic.

Emily heaved a sigh, running a hand through her hair before continuing, "This behaviour ends now. I'm not going to tolerate this any longer. I need you two to figure out a way to work together, or I will have no choice but to reassign one of you."

*

“Oh, my god. Reid, do you ever shut up?” you muttered under your breath, unable to hide your irritation at Spencer's endless rambling. 

Spencer shot you a glare, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tensed. "At least I have something worthwhile to say, unlike you," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Oh, please. Your so-called facts and statistics don't mean anything in the field. It's called real-life experience, something you clearly lack."

“Lacking real-life experience? Really?” Spencer paused, his voice fuelled with anger “I am older than you, and I have experienced things you wouldn’t even believe.”

Spencer's outburst surprised you, the raw emotion in his voice catching you off guard.

“Whatever you say, Dr Reid. From now on I’ll just worship the ground you walk on, shall I?” you retorted, trying to mask your unease with a casual tone. Inside, you felt a twinge of admiration for his ability to get under your skin so easily.

Emily glared at you both from across the room, she knew she had to put an end to this, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.

Spencer's nostrils flared with indignation at your remark, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and frustration. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Emily's stern voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"That's enough!" Emily's command was sharp, her gaze piercing. "I've had it with this childish bickering between you two. This behaviour is unprofessional and completely unacceptable."

You both fell silent under Emily's unwavering stare, guilt creeping into your conscience as her words echoed in the room. The weight of her disappointment hung heavy in the air, suffocating the animosity between you and Spencer.

"I don't care who started it or whose ego is hurt more," Emily continued, her tone firm. "What I care about is that you two find a way to work together effectively. The team's safety and success depend on it."

*

Emily was sick and tired of how the both of you acted, and she knew she needed to act fast. She didn’t want to lose either of you, but she also couldn’t let things carry on. So, she devised a plan, one that could go horribly wrong or one that could go perfectly. 

*

“Hey, everybody.” Emily’s voice echoed through the jet, “the hotel we are staying at doesn’t have enough rooms for us all to have our own.” She paused for a brief second, she didn’t want anyone to catch on to her, “so, Rossi and I will have our own room. Tara and JJ, you’ll share, Luke and Matt you’ll share and erm… Y/N and Reid you guys will also be sharing.”

You exchanged a wary glance with Spencer as Emily assigned you to share a room. “Emily, I’m sorry. But what is this? You expect me to share a room with Reid? Also assigning us rooms, what are we like thirteen or something?” you scoffed, the incredulity evident in your voice. Spencer's expression mirrored your own disbelief, his eyes widening in surprise at Emily's unexpected announcement.

Emily raised an eyebrow at your protest, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, I expect you two to share a room. It's high time you both learn to work together and put your differences aside. Consider this a team-building exercise," she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but Emily's steely glare silenced any objections before they could form.

*

“Seriously, one bed. Is she serious. I hate her, just as much as I hate you.” you spat out, glaring at Spencer as you both entered the hotel room assigned to you. The tension between you was palpable, suffocating the space as you stood on opposite sides of the room. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Spencer's exasperated sigh.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," Spencer shot back, his tone laced with irritation as he surveyed the small room. The single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room seemed to mock your predicament, a constant reminder of the forced proximity between you.

“Because, unlike you, I’m nice. You can have the bed, as long as I can shower first.” You retorted, determined not to back down in this battle of wills. Spencer's jaw clenched at your words, a muscle ticking in his temple as he fought to keep his composure.

"Fine. Just make it quick," Spencer replied through gritted teeth, his pride wounded by the concession. 

Before you headed towards the shower, you started to unpack, you hated keeping everything in your bag when you were in the hotel room. Once, you had finished you grabbed your essentials and headed towards the bathroom without so much as muttering a word to Spencer.

Spencer watched as you disappeared into the bathroom, the click of the door echoing in the tense silence of the room. Alone now, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. The mere thought of sharing a room with you made his skin crawl, but he knew Emily's intentions were well-meaning, if not a little misguided.

The rush of the warm water against your skin did little to soothe the simmering frustration that lingered within you. As the steam filled the bathroom, you tried to shake off the tension that had built up between you and Spencer. But every time you closed your eyes, his infuriating presence seemed to seep through the cracks of your composure.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” As you looked at the pile of clothes you had in the bathroom, you realised you hadn’t brought in your PJs, and all you had was a pair of panties and a bra. You were too embarrassed to ask Spencer to bring you the rest of your clothes. 

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options, but you weren’t going to be admitting defeat anytime soon, and maybe some part of you wanted to flaunt to Spencer something he could never have.

You dried yourself off and stepped out of the bathroom in just your underwear. Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief as you emerged from the bathroom clad only in your underwear, the audacity of your actions catching him off guard. His cheeks flushed with a deep crimson hue, his gaze darting away as if to shield himself from the unexpected sight before him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, a mix of shock and embarrassment colouring his tone. He struggled to maintain eye contact, opting instead to focus on a random spot on the wall.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his discomfort, a sense of satisfaction blooming within you at having turned the tables on Spencer for once. The power shift in the room was palpable, the tension crackling between you in a different way now.

“Just grabbing my clothes,” you stated nonchalantly, making no move to cover up as you retrieved your pyjamas. “Do you like what you see, Spencer?”

Spencer's cheeks burned hotter at your teasing words, his jaw clenching in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. He struggled to find the right response, his mind racing to come up with a comeback that would regain the upper hand in this unexpected exchange.

"Very funny," Spencer finally managed to choke out, his tone strained as he averted his gaze, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing how flustered you had made him. 

“You know the way you’re acting right now, Y/N, isn’t of someone who hates me.” Spencer teased through gritted teeth, his attempt at levity falling flat in the charged atmosphere of the room. Your smirk faltered for a split second at his remark, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing your features before you regained your composure, your mask slipping back into place.

"Let's get one thing straight, Spencer," you retorted, your tone firm as you met his gaze head-on. "Just because I'm not actively trying to strangle you right now doesn't mean I don't still think you're insufferable." The underlying tension between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting to reignite at the slightest provocation.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at your response, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. “Or you’re not actively strangling me, because you’d rather I’d be doing that to you.” Spencer paused, the words hanging in the charged air between you. His attempt at humour fell flat, the gravity of the situation pulling at the corners of his smile.

“What? No. What?” It was your turn to be embarrassed now as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at Spencer's unexpected remark.

“Oh, so I’m right. You do like the idea of me choking you.” Spencer paused, his eyes widening in realization at the slip of his words. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between you both reaching a new peak as his inadvertent confession hung in the air, heavy and loaded with unspoken implications.

You swallowed hard, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Spencer's gaze bore into yours, searching for a reaction, for any sign of the impact his words had made. And in that charged moment, something shifted between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer even as you both stood at opposite ends of the room.

“Spencer, I…” your voice wavered, uncertainty creeping into your tone as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy between you, begging for acknowledgement, for resolution. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. Brats like you always act out when they are attracted to someone.” Spencer paused, his gaze softening as he took a step closer to you. The air between you crackled with a newfound vulnerability, baring emotions that had long been buried beneath layers of animosity and pride.

“Spencer, you have a very active imagination. I have, erm, I have never thought of you like that.” You stumbled over your words, the admission weighing heavily on your conscience. Spencer's expression softened at your response, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes as he processed your words.

“I do not believe that for one second, sweetheart.” Spencer 's voice was barely above a whisper, his words laced with a raw honesty that left no room for doubt. The tension in the room had shifted once again, morphing into a charged undercurrent that pulsed between you, drawing you closer in a dance as old as time.

In one swift motion, Spencer seemed to have place you on top of his lap, your ass up in the air, and the palm of his hand striking against your backside.

Your breath hitched at the unexpected contact, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as Spencer's touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. The sting of his hand against your skin reverberated through your body, igniting a primal fire that had long been smouldering beneath the surface. 

“Now, you’re going to be a good girl, and say thank you after every time I spank you.” Spencer paused, his voice low and commanding as he laid down the rules of their newfound dynamic. Your head spun with a mixture of confusion and a strange exhilaration at the turn of events, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you complied with Spencer's demand, the unfamiliar title sending a thrill down your spine. Each strike of his hand against your skin sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a heady mix of pain and desire intertwining in a dangerous dance.

“Are you sorry for been a brat? For constantly picking fights with me over nothing? For making Emily do this, just so I can use you like the slut you are.” Spencer paused; his voice laced with a deliberate edge as he pushed the boundaries of your newfound dynamic. Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a surge of conflicting emotions crashing over you. The raw honesty in Spencer's tone stripped away the layers of pretence between you, exposing the raw desire that simmered beneath the surface.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of submission and defiance.

Spencer’s hand moved over your panties, so he could feel the ever-growing wet patch. “Do you like that? You like calling me sir, and me calling you a slut. You know for the type of brat you are out in the office or in the field, you break a lot easier than expected.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Spencer's words sent a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, the boundaries between desire and shame blurring as his touch ignited a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second.

“Yes, sir.” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensations that pulsed through your body. The weight of his hand against your skin, the pressure of his touch against your most intimate places, all served to push you to the brink of a precipice you had never dared to explore before.

“Good girl, now stand up and take off your bra and panties.” Spencer demanded, his voice firm and authoritative. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

With trembling hands, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor. Then, you stepped out of your panties, your legs feeling unsteady as you stood there before him, naked and exposed. The air between you was thick with desire, and you could feel Spencer's gaze raking over your body, devouring every inch of you.

"Now, bend over the table," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. You did as he said, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you lowered your body, presenting yourself to him. The cool surface of the table against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat that was building inside you. You could feel the moisture between your legs as it dripped down your thighs, a testament to the arousal that was consuming you.

Spencer stepped closer to you, his cock hard and pulsating with need. He ran his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the strands as he pulled your head back, his gaze never wavering from your exposed ass.

"You're such a naughty little slut, aren't you?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "You know you want this, don't you? You've been craving my cock since the first day we met."

You could only nod in response, your body trembling with anticipation as his erection pressed against your wet sex.

"Good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Because I've been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you, too."

With one swift movement, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust inside you in one smooth motion. Your eyes widened at the sudden invasion, the pleasure and pain intermingling in a way that was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You gasped, arching your back as his cock filled you completely. Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to move within you. His thrusts were rhythmic and powerful, filling you to the brim with each movement.

Your moans filled the room as Spencer's cock slid in and out of you, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as he fucked you hard and rough. Your mind was a blur of mixed emotions, guilt mingling with desire as you surrendered to the animalistic lust that was consuming you.

You could feel his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Your legs were trembling with each movement, your body submitting to his every command.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "So tight and wet. Just the way I always imagined you would be."

His words sent a rush of pleasure through you, making you clench around his cock. Spencer thrust deeper, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had you gasping for breath.

"Tell me you want me, baby," he growled, his voice harsh with need. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

You couldn't form words, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure and desire. All you could do was cry out and arch your back, begging for more.

"Please, please, please," you moaned, your voice ragged with need. "More, oh please, more."

Spencer's smile was wicked, his eyes dark and full of lust. "Tell me you want me, baby," he demanded, holding your hips tight as he thrust into you.

"I want you, oh, I want you so fucking much!" you cried out, your body writhing beneath him. Your nails dug into the edge of the table, your legs trembling as you pushed back against him, taking him deeper inside you.

His thrusts became harder, faster, each one a razor's edge of pleasure and pain. You could feel his fingers digging into your hips, his breath hot against your skin as he possessed you completely.

"Tell me, slut," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me you're mine, and that you'll do anything I say."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

"I'm yours, sir," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the power, he held over you. "I'll do anything you say."

Spencer's eyes widened at your submission, a sense of triumph and desire flooding his entire being. He thrusted deeper into you, his cock aching to be buried inside you even further.

Your moans grew louder, your body shaking with every thrust as he took control of you. The power he wielded over you sent ripples of ecstasy through your entire being, your mind hazy with pleasure.

"That's it, baby, let me hear you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me how much you love taking my cock, how much you love feeling me inside you."

You couldn't form words, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps. Your fingernails left marks on the edge of the table, your body writhing under his assault.

"Mmm, that's it, tell me baby," he urged, his hips moving in a relay and powerful stroke. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you, how much you need it."

You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with each thrust. Your moans filled the room, and your entire body was on fire with pleasure and desire.

"Say it, baby," he demanded, his voice growing rough with need. "Say you love my cock inside you."

"I-I love your cock inside me," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, please don't stop."

Spencer's eyes darkened at your plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you harder. Your moans filled the room, your body arching and begging for more. You could feel the tension building, the wave of pleasure and desire crashing over you.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Come for me, let go of all that pleasure and surrender to me completely."

Your body shuddered, your moans growing louder as the orgasm overwhelmed you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through Spencer's entire being.

He continued to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of you in a relentless rhythm. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with each movement. 

You could tell Spencer wasn’t far off from his own release, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you was indescribable, the intensity of your orgasm mixing with the pleasure of him taking you so roughly. You could feel him hardening even more, his cock pulsating with need as he fucked you deeper and faster.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," he growled, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Your mind was a blur of thoughts and emotions, pleasure, and lust mingling with the desire to please him. You wanted him to take you, to possess you completely.

"Yes, sir, fill me up," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to feel you cum inside me."

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[waspredteeth]

I see a lot of confusion on why calling Damian Wayne "feral" is racist/problematic, so here's a rundown.

There's a difference between calling your child or your younger sibling "feral" and calling a character like Damian "feral." You know your child/sibling/niece/nephew etc. They're real people, and unless they have a problem with it personally, then there's nothing wrong with calling them feral as a joke. It doesn't (shouldn't) affect their perceptions by other people. It doesn't become a label that follows them.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne is a fictional character. A canonically mixed Arab/Chinese/Jewish White character with a history connected to some of the most prominent Arab comic book characters, who themselves also get insanely mischaracterized.

He's constantly whitewashed. He's been written with racist undertones (the suicide bomber vest). He's had his character development and progress backtracked time and time again by DC. DC treats him weirdly most days and completely shitty in the worst stories.

A good majority of fanon hasn't done any better than DC. You cannot pat yourselves on the back for being more inclusive or mental health aware than DC when you call a mixed Arab/Chinese boy "feral". It's constant. You can come up with various titles and nuances for every Bat-character, for every Robin.

Tim can be smart, a skater, a genius, the one holding everyone together, the little brother, the one who needs love. Jason can be cool, morally "right" or "wrong", unstable, PTSD-stricken, the one who was betrayed, the one with Shakespearean tragedies. Dick can be fun, happy, the first one, the prodigal son, the one with complicated history and the big brother.

You give them room for exploration. Love and care and attention and research. Many headcanons. You either comply with canon or you don't, but there's substance to their character.

What does Damian get? He's feral. He's rabid. He's a gremlin. He can't be reasoned with. He has no self-control, he's impulsive. He's hurt others, and you can't forgive it. Sometimes he's homophobic. Or classist. Or plain mean and rude to your favorite boy. He's always carrying a sword. A psychopath with no regard for another's well-being (usually Tim in a lot of fics). He can't be taught what's right.

I've seen people cry that Damian needs to punished or kicked out or treated the same way he's treated others. He needs to be brutalized or talked down to. He can never grow as a person, because he's mean to Tim or Jason, and you need him to exist as the abuser. His first move is always violent.

Fanon compares him to an animal often; he bites, claws, hisses, growls. Bruce or Dick or Jason or Tim have to wrangle him, tame him, civilize him the white man's way in lieu of his brown mother and grandfather who "clearly" raised him wrong. You don't see the issue with that? The issue with always labeling one of the few major brown characters in Batman comics as the unreasonable animal? That the child of color is always the abuser, the instigator, to older characters?

And even if you don't see him this way, you don't write him this way - then are you giving him the care and attention you give for other Bat characters?

Do you know anything else about him other than his "anger"? Because he isn't always angry. In fact, he's typically well-mannered. Quiet even, when he's not being provoked. DC's writing will always vary but whenever Damian lashes out, he's usually written with a reason to act the way he does.

Are you making him intelligent like he should be? A hard believer in redemption? A neglected and abused child who isn't meek or crying or closes himself within? Are you willing to explore that he's always exhibited the "wrong" kind of trauma responses - lashing out, being snippy, ruining relationships, refusing to admit weakness?

Do you write anything about him without making his mother and grandfather comically abusive and violent? Will you give him the supporting cast/friends he actually has? Can you write his dad/siblings interacting with him without making them white saviors or therapy pets? Can you write him without a ship or his love for animals or being vegetarian overshadowing everything?

Is he a character to you at all other than a glorified plot device with a sharp tongue and the convenience of being violent?

#damian wayne #dc #robin #damian wayne meta #dc meta #fandom needs to start interrogating their choices around non-white characters in general but especially when it comes to Batman comics #you may not intend to be racist or ableist or misinformed #but what you put out into the world is going to be seen by everyone #and you should very much reconsider doing things like calling Damian feral and implying he has zero self-control or civilization #or implying Duke is uneducated by hc'ing him with terrible handwriting or making him the “sane” one bc you haven't read any comics w him #or shoving Cassandra into a corner as a perfect unvocal specimen or making her a sentient therapy animal for your favorite white boy #or sexualizing Dick in obscene amounts and making him a “slut” when its against his entire character #its day in day out in this fandom when it comes to snubbing and being utterly wrong about characters of color #fandom critical #damian al ghul #a painted bird called tamer #batman #batman meta #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfanon #bruce wayne

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I didn't sleep very well but I'm here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you move North, the sunlight fades sooner and rises later, the nights cooling with each mile. Nearly a fortnight on the road, and you return to the service of the queen. Bryce escorts you between the carts, gesturing in passing to his comrades, other times letting past another body on their own mission. You reach the front of the train where men with swords pace and keep watch over the surrounding lands. 

“Evenin’,” Bryce greets the guards outside the queen’s tent and they grumble back. The weariness of travel has overcome many of the travelers. 

You dip your head down and approach the tent flap. Before the card can pull it back for your entrance, it sweeps open from the other side. You step back as another figure falters before you. The king keeps hold of the silk and his eyes skim over you. He tilts his head and moves to hold the fabric open, beckoning you through with his large hand. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

His jaw squares but he says nothing. As you enter, the fabric falls heavily behind you. The king’s expression lingers in your mind, his silence even more. The tick in his cheek was hard to miss and you can hear his heavy footfalls as he stalks off. 

Within, the queen sits on a bench, playing with the tassel of her belt. Her father, Lord Dustan, stands to the side, arms crossed as he makes small steps back and forth. He tuts and chews his thumb. 

“Your husband does not behave as son-in-law,” the duke gripes lowly, “he would have let Debray fall to those vandals. He cares only for his frost lands.” 

“Father, he is only eager to be home. As much as I dread the cold, I cannot help but feel as such. I tire of this endless road,” Queen Jazlene yawns into a cupped hand. 

“Ah, but you must be a loyal wife. What of mine? What of your mother? She was alone in the castle.” 

“And you rode out to save her, didn’t you?” Jazlene prompts. 

“I am a lord of the summer lands, I am past my warring days,” Dustan snarls, “he would risk my flesh on an uprising he could crush with his left hand. He tests me!” The duke circles around as he jabs his finger in the air, “I deserve more dignity, more respect. I delivered him his kingdom.” 

“Yes, father, he is a frigid man,” Jazlene bemoans, “as icy a husband. He does neglect us both.” 

“Neglect?” Dustan faces his daughter, “does he not see to his contract?” 

She frowns and bats her doey eyes as she looks away, “it isn’t that he doesn’t fulfill his duty, it is only... how might I get an heir if I lie with my husband only once in a moon?” 

“Does he mean to deceive us? A son will bind us. A son is what we need. Does he think the summer lands will follow a king who does not sow his seed?” 

“I do not know, father. I... I have tried all I can think of.” 

“Mm,” the duke hums darkly, “that won’t do at all. Not at all. When I married your mother, she was swollen with you almost as soon as the vows were said. No, no, it won’t do. I will have word with the king, make certain he does not treat my daughter, his queen, so coolly.” 

Dustan stop and twiddles his fingers. You try to imagine him confronting King Geralt. Surely it is bluster for the sake of his daughter. 

“...we are ruined without an heir...” he mutters. 

Jazlene sits forward on the bench, “ruined, father? I am queen--” 

“Yes, yes, you are queen, but a queen has her duty too,” Dustan insists, “and it cannot be done with a negligent king. Leave it to me, daughter. The next I see the king, I shall handle our business. As I have ever done. Do you believe in me? For I did deliver you a fine marriage, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, father.” 

The duke goes to his daughter and rubs her shoulder. He leans in and you shrink against the tent wall, making yourself small. 

“Should it prove poor judgment,” his whisper scratches from his lips, “I will figure a way out.” 

He kisses her hair and turns to march out. He takes not notice of you though that is expected. Jazlene sighs as the flap falls and she leans back on her hands, swaying her leg. 

“Ah, the maid,” she cheeps, “you will fetch hot water for my feet. They ache.” 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She grins, a catlike expression and sits up straight, “yes, that is right. I am a queen and soon, the king will be certain to treat me as such.” 

You flit off to your duty. As you emerge, your chest stirs with unease. Something about their conversation has you unnerved. Though they said nothing outright, it feels as if there is more laced between the words. The queen and her father hardly sound as allies to the king. 

You try to wipe the apprehension from your mind. You are but a maid and not so well-versed on noble matters. It isn’t your place to unpiece their declarations or untangle their riddles. You are to get the water to sooth the daughter of Debray’s feet, it may yet save you a box to the ears. 

⚔️

You shiver as the cart bounces over the hard ground. You count a month or so since your departure from the capital though the days blend in a fog. The gradual creep of the chill has advanced upon the part, slowing the wheels, and sending the riders to pause and cover their horses. You keep the fur cloak over your lap as you lean into the corner of the cart though Bryce seems enlivened by the atmosphere. 

The dim sky harkens the crossing of the intangible barrier between the summer and winter lands. Sprawling plains and rounded feels give way to rocky passes and jutting mountains, interspersed with lumpy tundras speckled with patches of mud. Several times, your soldierly escort has had to help yank free the wheels from some rut or another. 

“Are we there?” You ask through as chatter, blowing into your hands. “The Hinterlands?” 

“Mm, by my guess, we are at the Fox’s Tail. You see, it is the little strip of land where no man lives, summer or winter,” he explains, reaching to scratch his beard. You envy the warmth it must give to his cheeks. “Isn’t so cold yet, mouse, better brace yerself.” 

You nod and look ahead at the grey, brown expanse. There are dustings of frost but not snow, only on the distant caps of rugged mountains that shadow the horizon. You hug yourself as Daisy’s breath plumes in misty clouds around her head. 

“Why does no one live here?” You ask. 

“There are no trees, no grass to feed the livestock or game,” he shrugs, “it is barren...” he sucks his teeth and thinks, “there was a war. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more. The summer folk spilled upon the winter lands, some squabble over a slain lord... they put salt to the earth. They did not only want vengeance on the living, they wanted their descendants to suffer for their misdeeds. Starve out an entire people.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “what the summer people didn’t understand is that the winter skinned do not stay still. They move with the winds. You’ll see, mouse. You haven’t done the last of yer scurrying.” 

You huddle down as another cold breath sweeps through the air. You’re not used to it but you will be. That’s how it always is. You just have to take what you get and make it work. You can’t complain for what you have; a warm cloak, a cart, and a kind companion. 

⚔️

Your teeth chatter as you hold closed the front of the fur cloak, the hood over your head as you walk the frozen earth. More often than not, you’ve left the prized cape in your cart for your return. It is too heavy to wear while serving the queen but the weather permits you no mercy. It is far too bitter to forgo the extra layer. 

Bryce is unbothered in his mail and the simple fur trim the collar of his wool cloak. He only seems to thrive in the dipping temperatures, stoking a fire for your nocturnal return so that you may sleep in its warmth. His constancy keeps you from mourning the lost summer sunshine. 

He stands behind you as you cross to the queen’s tent, now raised with several layers to insulate the walls. You enter as you do every night, unnoticed as Queen Jazlene mindlessly stares into the pages of a book. She’s grown quiet these last weeks as the travel wears on her, even her wardrobe showing the effects. 

You feel a gust from beneath the tent wall and step away from it. You watch the queen, huddled beneath a blanket on a stool, shaking as she tries to warm her hands in each other. She wears several satin cloaks layered over each other but the fabric is too sleek to garner much heat. 

She puffs into her palms and groan.  

“Damn this cold,” she mutters, then sits up, “maid, tea!” She demands, “Something warm! Anything!” 

You utter a small “your highness” and spin away to your task. You step out into the cold and go off to find a fire and a pot. The queen has some berry tea in her chests.  

You acquire a cup of steaming water from a cluster of servants around a flame. You linger for a moment to absorb some of the fire’s haze then set back toward the royal tent. As you near, a shadow nearly collides with you. You keep the cup balanced as you scramble around the figure. The torch light catches the king’s golden eyes as they meet yours. 

“Your highness,” you murmur. 

He grunts as he stops fully. He stares down at you wordlessly. You cannot read his expression as shadows dance around his features, flickering various emotions across his face. He bows his head and presses on. You turn to watch him go as concern rolls up your throat. 

In those last weeks, months you believe, you’ve not seen much of the king. You’ve wondered after his elusivity. At first, you thought it might be due to the combat at Debray, perhaps he was disheartened by the last act of resistance. Then you surmised it might be evasion of his own wife. Alas, you could not guess and fathomed it was not your place to do so. 

This brief encounter further perplexes you. You can’t help but question if it is you. You recall the last day in the capital, the grit of his voice casting you out. Go. The memory ripples through you. 

You think much of yourself. It wouldn’t be anything to do with a paltry maid. You focus on the hot water in your hand and continue on to the queen’s tent. 

You enter and wrap the dried berries and leaves, steeping them in the steaming water. You hover over the cup, waiting for the water to deepen in hue and cool enough to drink. When you bring it to the queen, you feel her gaze upon you. 

“Your highness,” you hand her the cup. 

She hesitates to take it, only doing so after deep consideration. She holds the tea in one hand as her other tugs on your cloak. She makes an ugly noise. 

“And where did you find this, maid?” She sneers. “Hmm, I sit her in my summer garb and you wear a bear’s skin?” 

Your lips part and you raise your shoulders. You look at the tent wall and frown. You poke your hand outside the cloak and touch the soft fur.  

“Your highness,” you look down at the cloak then at her trembling grasp on the cup. “Would you like it? You look awfully cold.” 

“Yes, I want the damn cloak!” She yanks it hard, “I am the queen and you did not think to offer me a proper cloak? How stupid are you.” 

You bow your head and reach to unbuckle the cloak. When it is loose, you shrug it off and hand it over. You will find a spare blanket. There must be some left among the luggage. 

She shoves the cup at you and stands. She swings the cloak around her and hums as she pulls its snug around her figure. She sits again and rubs her chin against the fur. 

“Much better,” she says, “I’ve been suffering this damnable place for far too long.” 

She takes the tea back, spilling a drop on your hand. You back away, the liquid cooling and sending a new chill through you. You cover one hand with the other and clutch tightly, locking your jaw against the tremor that crawls up your spine. 

The queen slurps from the tea and makes a face. She sneers, “I want wine,” she pouts, “how long must I be deprived? Wine!” She snarls down at the cup, “but I must drink this bile. Oh, but the king bids it,” she raises her voice mockingly, “you must obey your husband.” She shakes her head and takes another gulp, “at least it is warm. At least--”  

She holds the cup away from her suddenly as her face twists. She drops it and recoils, panic washing over her. She keels forward, holding her skirts out of the way as she spews onto the rug spread over the hard ground. She wretches loudly, spasming with the horrid sounds snagging in her throat. 

The smell of her vomit permeates the tent. She stays bent over her lap as she pants. You come forward and offer her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. She sits up and gulps tightly, her features drawn. She pats her lips. 

“Well, clean it up,” she turns her feet away from the puddle between them. “Stupid maid.” 

She pokes a sharp nail into your arm and you wince.  

“Your highness, are you unwell?” You ask, “shall I fetch a physician? Or some ginger?” 

“No, you stupid cow, I am not unwell,” she flicks her fingers at you before waving away the stench of her bile. She stands and walks away from it, her hand settling on her middle. She faces you and smiles broadly, “I am carrying the king’s son.” Her face darkens as she wrinkles her nose, “I told you, you twit, to clean that up. You best do so before I make you eat it.” 

You nod and bend your neck, “yes, your highness, I will fetch water.” 

“I don’t care, just do it,” she snaps and rubs her stomach. She lets out a shuddery groan and turns her back to you. You watch as she draws tight the cloak and sways with a trill, “I will be a true queen now. He cannot deny me any longer.” 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[golbrocklovely]

complicated // sam golbach

A/N: had an idea like this for quite sometime, and i was finally able to finish this fic. just so everyone's aware, there WILL be a part two. but it might not be in the way you think lol hope you enjoy this fic and lmk what you think :)

prompt: you and sam needed a stress relief, and if you couldn't get it from who you really wanted it from, second best was better than nothing at all. || sam golbach x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, drunk sex, cursing, snc are both single in this fic, angst, finding comfort in each other, friends to lovers, kitchen sex, almost getting caught, mentions of babygirl, good girl, sam is using you and you are using sam

word count: 4020

~~~~~~~~~~~

To say my relationship with Sam and Colby was complicated was a bit of an understatement. But I had no one to blame, really, except for myself.

I had known them for years, being one of the first friends they made once they moved out to LA. We were always friendly with each other, and kept in contact over the years. Then one day, they told me about how they needed an assistant, someone that could help out behind the scenes as well as being in videos occasionally. Things fell into place perfectly, and I signed on to be their assistant. I moved out to Vegas with them, living in an apartment not too far away from their place.

God only knew why I even had my own place since I crashed at their house more often than not.

Our relationship never seemed all that complicated.... until one day. Something clicked in my head, and suddenly I became extremely aware of how attractive Colby was. His eyes, his smile, his voice. Sam, of course, was attractive too. But he always had Kat, so it was never appropriate for me to like him. But Colby... he was basically an eternal bachelor. So, it made total sense for me to like him.

And our friendship was a bit strange to begin with. We were both naturally flirty people, constantly hitting on one another whether sober or drunk; but especially when we were drunk. There were some close encounters with us, especially once we started opening up to one another. I could count on two hands how many times we had kissed, and on one how many times we had almost gone farther than that. But we never finished what we started.

The problem with Colby is I could never tell where we stood entirely. Sometimes, it seemed like I was all he wanted to pay attention to. Other times, he was with someone else, and wouldn't even glance my way. It was strange. He was always close, but somehow an arm's length away.

And some nights, I couldn't stand him. The back and forth, the cat and mouse game... It was exhausting, to say the least. Sometimes I just wanted to know how he felt. Exactly. With no add ons or extra shit. But with Colby, it was never that simple.

This was normal for us. But things changed once Sam became single, and both of the boys were out on the prowl. It was like their auras changed, and suddenly I was seeing them through different eyes.

I had no one to blame except myself. But at the same time, I didn't feel guilty.

If he can have fun, so can I.

~~~~

“But did you see him? He was basically humping the air!” Colby laughed, kicking his shoes off.

I followed him and Sam into the kitchen area, our usual hang out spot. “Oh my God, yes! It was almost like your old Vine.”

He groaned, “Please don't bring that-”

“Baby grinnnnndd oooon meeeeeee!” I sang dramatically, completely offkey.

He deadpanned, “I hate you so much.”

I faux gasped, clutching my nonexistent pearls. “Wha? How could you say that? I'm one of your best friends!”

“And you're about to be unemployed if you keep it up.” Colby crossed his arms defiantly. 

I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn't.”

He smirked, “Try me.”

I turned away from him, yelling to my other best friend, “Sam! Tell Colby he can't just fire me because I'm making fun of him.”

Sam looked up from his phone, “Uh? I wasn't paying attention to what either of you were saying.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, dropping the topic.

He stared at me innocently, “...Trying to order Taco Bell.”

“Oh my God, Taco Bell.” Colby moaned, closing his eyes, “Oh, fuck.”

I grimaced, “Damn Colby, try not to come in your pants. It's just Taco Bell.”

“I'm sorry, I just get hard for Taco Bell.” Colby admitted casually.

Sam chimed in, “Dude, I get hard for Taco Bell too.”

I scrunched my face, “You guys are weird.”

Colby smiled playfully, walking away, “I'm gonna go change, order my regular?”

“Gotchu, brother.” Sam nodded.

I sighed, leaning against the island. I watched Sam scroll through his phone, clicking away at options for food.

“What do you want?” He asked.

I shrugged, “I don't know. Can I see your phone?”

“Come over here. I don't want to throw my phone.” He commented.

I huffed jokingly, walking over to him, taking it from his hand. "Well, someone's in a shitty mood."

“I'm not in a shitty mood. I'm tired, I'm drunk, and I'm very hungry. And I wish I ordered Taco Bell in the Uber home.” Sam replied, exacerbated.

“So... a shitty mood?” I repeated.

He grumbled, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Is something the matter?” I questioned, still looking at the Taco Bell menu.

He paused, then finally spoke. “It's been a year.”

I glanced up, “A year?” 

“Since we... broke up.” He finally finished.

My eyes widened, putting his phone down on the counter. "Oh shit, I'm sorry Sam."

He exhaled, swatting at me, “It's okay.”

“No, we shouldn't have.... gone out tonight.” I half-heartedly argued.

“Why? So I could sulk at home over my failed relationship? I don't think that would have been any better.” He quipped.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“I don't know.” He leaned back, rubbing his eyes tirelessly, “It just feels weird, you know? I never thought I would be single again, so all of this just feels... off.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one struggling in the love department.” I remarked.

“What? You and your secret pining for Colby not working out for you?” Sam sassed.

I glared, sucking my teeth, You know, sometimes you can be a real ass.”

“What? Because I can see you like Colby and he's just... blind, to it?” He smirked.

“Why don't you tell him that and not me?” I jeered.

“I'm not getting involved with whatever the two of you got going on. I swore off helping his dating life long ago.” He chuckled, putting his hands up defensively.

I scoffed, “You were literally his wingman tonight as he flirted with the waitress!

“And you wouldn't have noticed that if you weren't watching him like a hawk.” He mentioned.

I rolled my eyes, my hands resting on my hips. “Trust me, I wanted to look away. But it was like watching a train crash.”

Sam laughed, “A train crash that ended in him getting her number.”

I exhaled. “Again, the whole 'you're an ass' comment stands.”

“Why don't you just tell him how you feel?” He rebutted.

“He knows,” I winced, shrugging. “He... has to know. He just pretends it's not real. When there's no one else, that's when he comes to me.”

“And how does that make you feel?” He inquired.

“Like shit. I hate being a second choice.” I muttered.

He hummed, “I know the feeling.” 

“Yeah, well at least you got to be first. I don't think that's ever gonna happen with me and him.” I sighed, ignoring my heart dropping at my own words.

Sam, always the optimist, replied, “Maybe that's better in the long run. Maybe you work better as friends.” 

“Maybe.... But what about you?” I stared up at him.

“What about me?” He chuckled.

“You really do have a knack for just changing up the conversation so you don't gotta talk about yourself.” I pointed at him, pushing my finger into his chest.

“What do you wanna know?” He asked.

I questioned, looking into his eyes. “How are you feeling? Genuinely.” 

“Genuinely... I'm…” He was hesitant, but spoke, “a bit lonely.”

“Have you tried to be with other girls since your break up?” I queried.

Sam nodded, “Yeah. But none of them seemed right. I've realized I don't like being alone.”

“Not many truly do.” I added.

“It just feels odd not having someone there, you know? You wake up for years with the same person over and over again, but once they're gone it's like... something's missing.” He exhaled, his head falling back.

“Well, someone is.” I murmured, leaning against him. 

He groaned, rubbing his eyes, “I kinda feel like a teenager again, but in the worst way.”

I turned to him, puzzled. “Really?”

“I can't tell how I feel anymore. Or what I want.” He flipped his hands over, weighing the options, “Am I lonely or just alone? Do I miss her or just the comfort that having her brought?”

I jokingly mimicked him, “Am I finally into someone new or am I just horny?”

“Yeah…” He gave me a strange look, but laughed, “What a weird way to put it, but yeah.”

I pffted, “Oh, I'm sorry. You two just said you get hard for Taco Bell, but I can't say I get horny sometimes?”

“Well you are my employee.” He smiled sarcastically.

“And you're my employer. So it's even worse.” I glared, “I should report you to HR.”

“We don't have HR.” Sam deadpanned.

“HR will have to hear about this... once they exist.” I declared.

He rolled his eyes at me, “Are you really horny that often?”

I inhaled, “Bro, honestly.... it's really bad sometimes.”

“Really? Like how bad?” He pushed.

“The other night I almost called up an ex just to see if he would fuck me.” I admitted, uncomfortable by the memory.

He whistled, “Ooof, that's pretty bad.”

“What about you? How horny do you get?” I asked, almost confused why I was.

He thought for a second, then stated, “Mmm, maybe every couple days.”

I snickered, “Oh that's not too bad. Aren't guys notorious for being constant horn dogs?”

“I guess so, but you already know I'm not like most guys.” He winked.

I shook my head at him, “How unique of you.”

Sam stared at me, his gaze a mix of annoyance and... something else I couldn't place. His voice came out low, almost husky. "Are you horny now?"

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I did my best to play them off. "Maybe a little. What about you?"

He raised his eyebrows, noting my statement, "Maybe just a little."

I nodded softly, my eyes taking in his face. He was really handsome. He always was, even if most of my feelings were for Colby. His eyes were blue, but very different compared to Colby's. Icy and intense in nature. They stared into mine, his eyes flickering down my face to my lips. I mirrored him, looking at his. 

They looked awfully nice....

I don't know how, but we must have gotten closer and closer to one another. And suddenly, his lips were on mine. His arm wrapped around my lower back, pulling me towards him. My hands rested on his shoulders, catching my balance. His kiss was soft, but fierce. Our tongues met in a matter of seconds, a gasp falling from my lips when his entered my mouth. He pressed his body into mine, our hips meeting and grazing each other sexually.

Holy shit, I was kissing Sam. And not only that, I was liking it.

Sam must have also came to this realization, that he too was kissing me, because he pulled back abruptly. Shock was written all over his face. “Woah…”

I breathed, leaning back against the island. “W-What was that?”

“I don't know. Wow, um…” He sputtered, taking a step back.

I cleared my throat, “Yeah that was... surprising.” 

“You can say that.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

I exhaled, looking at him. "Guess we are really horny."

He agreed, letting out a light laugh.

We stood there in awkward silence, trying to get our bearings. My heart fluttered in my chest as I realized how turned on I had become just making out with him.

I really was in dire need to be fucked. And Sam... seemed willing enough. At least, for a moment there.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the loneliness. But something came over the both of us in that moment. We locked eyes, and it became apparent that things were changing. The awkward silence turned erotic, like one of us was waiting to make the next move. I wanted to, but what if I was wrong?

Fuck, I just... needed him.

Sam bit his lip, his eyes tracing my form. Once they landed back on my face, a look came over him. It was intense, his pupils blown wide. He looked eager, determined... hungry.

“Come here.” He mumbled lowly.

That's all I needed to hear.

I rushed up to him, our bodies slamming into one another. Our mouths met hastily, jumping right back into what we had been doing just minutes before. He wrapped his arms around me, his hands resting low on my hips. He spun us until my back hit the counter in the far corner of the kitchen. His hand slid down to my knee, raising it up so it rested around his hip.

He pulled away quickly, putting some space between us. Are you okay with this?”

I tried catching my breath, “W-wha?” 

“Are you okay with this? Do you really want this?” Sam questioned, repeating himself.

“Yeah I do. Why would you ask?” I furrowed my brow.

He scoffed, “Come on, Y/N. We just spent ten minutes talking about how you wanted Colby.”

“Yeah, and you spent the better half of that talking about how you miss your ex.” I retorted. “Obviously, we aren't each other’s.... first choices. But that doesn't mean we can't have fun. Let's just enjoy this, and not make this a big deal.” I snaked my arms around him, pulling him back into me.

“Fine with me.”

He lowered his face to my neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. I lulled my head back, allowing him as much access as he wanted. He pressed his hips into mine, sparks shooting up through my core into my entire body. I whimpered unexpectedly, Sam smiling into my neck at the sound.

I tugged lightly on his hair, pulling his head back. Our lips met again, my hand roaming his chest. I found the first button of his shirt, undoing it. I slowly followed suit with the others, my fingers tracing down his torso as I did.

He grabbed my wrists, stopping my motions. “Shouldn't we go back to my room and do this? Do you wanna get caught by Colby?”

“How about we stop bringing him up? I don't want to be thinking about him right now,” I smiled bitterly. “And anyway, you know as well as I do that man is probably knocked out asleep on his bed. So we'll be good til morning.”

“I don’t think I'm gonna make it that long. Maybe three rounds max.” He joked.

“Oh wow, three rounds?” I gazed up and down at his body, “I'll settle for one right now.”

“Same here.” He kissed me quickly, pulling back for a moment, "but just in case he's not totally asleep, let's not get fully naked."

“Lame. But fine, I guess.” I huffed.

“Trust me, I would love to see all of you, but not now. Not here.” He whispered sweetly.

I giggled, his face and lips pressing into my chest as he lowered my top more. His tongue dragged across my skin, and I felt like I was on fire. 

Maybe all of that tequila was a good call, after all. Because God... the feeling between my legs was just growing hotter and wetter by the second. All I wanted was Sam.

Was there a part of me that also wanted Colby? Yes. But that part would have to shut it for now. Because he wasn't here. He didn't choose me. Sam did. And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

Our kisses became harsher, more passionate, as our hips grinded together harder. I could feel him against me, his bulge pressing right against my core. I grazed my hand down his torso, finally resting it on his belt. I undid with my one hand, trying my best.

He laughed, pulling back from me. “I'll get it.”

“Do you have a condom?” I breathed.

“Yeah, in my wallet.” He grabbed it out of his pocket, placing it on the counter. 

As he undid his belt, I took the condom out, ripping the package with my teeth. I gazed down at his dick; it strained against his underwear, begging to be touched. I reached out, cupping him softly.

“O-oh, fuck, Y/N.” He choked out a moan, his eyes closing at the feeling.

“Does that feel good, Sammy?” I whispered, biting my lip.

He glared, a smirk on his lips, "You know I hate when you call me that."

I bit back a smile, “But I enjoy it so much.”

He hummed, “And I guess I'll enjoy this.”

Sam closed the space between us, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand slid underneath my skirt, palming my sex instantly. I gasped as my wet panties pressed into my aching clit. I shuddered against him, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.

“That's it, babygirl. You're so wet for me, aren't you?” His voice was raspy as he spoke.

“I told you I was horny.” I rubbed my palm harder into his cock as he did the same to my clit.

“Yeah, but only a little bit. If this is only you a little horny, I can't imagine what you're like completely turned on.” He pressed into me more, kissing up my neck.

My breath hitched, “Get inside me and you'll find out.”

“Ain't gotta tell me twice.” Sam lowered his pants and underwear down enough for his cock to spring free. He took the condom from my hand, rolling it down his shaft. I watched in anticipation, direly needing him inside of me.

I yanked my panties down, kicking them off my heels. Sam lined up with my entrance, our eyes meeting again.

His tip teased me, “You ready?”

I nodded, “Please Sam, just-”

He inched his way in, filling me slowly. We both moaned in unison, the sensation hitting us hard. I was so wet and slick, he was able to push all the way in easily. Once our hips met, his hand cupped my face.

I opened my eyes, and his searched mine. I should have felt weird in this moment. Here I was, in my employers' and best friends' kitchen being fucked by one of them while the other was just a room or two away. We could get caught, we could be seen or heard at any moment. I shouldn't have wanted this. Sam was my friend, and not the one I really wanted in my heart.

But my feelings be damned if I wasn't gonna enjoy every second of this. Plus, it's not like I was the only one getting something out of this. I was his second choice, and he was mine.

Sam started bucking his hips, building up to a good rhythm. My hands slid up his back, resting on his shoulder blades. He leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. He was concentrating on his movements, of going deeper into me. His one hand rested on my ass, cupping and gripping it as he thrusted. The other was in my hair, burying deeper into my locks.

“You feel so good, Y/N. So fucking wet.” He uttered, his voice shaking.

“I need more, Sam. Pleaseeee.” I whined.

“I gotchu, babygirl.” He lowered his hips, hitting my sex deeper, “Just like this?”

“Oh my- Fuck! Yes, just like that!” I cursed loudly.

He hushed me, snickering, “Shh, you can't be too loud. You might wake him. Unless that's what you want…”

“What?” I raised an eyebrow, pulling back slightly.

He slowed his movements down, tracing my jaw with his thumb.“You wanna get caught, don't you?” 

I hated that the idea did excite me. The thoughts swirled in my head; would Colby be upset? Would Sam? The what ifs made my mind wonder.

Sam grabbed my face suddenly, a little rougher than I expected him to be. “Look at me.”

I blinked, staring into his eyes.

“Don't look away from me, okay? I want all of your attention on me and what I'm doing to you. Got it?” He commanded.

His tone was sexy, my body jolting from the sound. “Okay.”

He pecked my lips, “Good girl.”

I gasped as his hand slid down to my clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. My body clenched at the sensation, my hips speeding up.

“You need more?” Sam growled.

I hummed, only able to nod. My nails dug into his back as he sped up his movements. He began fucking me harder against the counter. He held me steady, going deeper as he did.

I shuttered, “Fuuuck Sam. You make me feel so full.”

“Yeah? Feel fucking amazing, Y/N.” Sam grunted, “God, if you squeeze around me one more time, I'm gonna-

I smirked against his neck, squeezing his cock inside of me. He halted his hips, raising his head to look at me.

He pushed his dick all the way in, filling me completely. His fingers started rubbing my clit faster and faster. My mouth fell open, my body shaking with pleasure..

Sam glared into my eyes, watching me as I almost came undone. I gripped him hard, panting. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, and all he was doing was using his fingers.

“You right there for me?” He hissed.

I whimpered, pleading, “Please let me come.”

“Stay right there for me. Don't come yet.” He demanded.

He picked up his speed again, fucking me faster than he had before. His cock pounded into me repeatedly, adding more to the pleasure of his fingers on my clit. I could feel my wetness leak down my thighs. I was so close, unable to hold on for much longer.

“Sam, pleaseeee..... I'm so fucking close.” I mewled.

He groaned, closing his eyes tightly. “I'm right there, babygirl. You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck, yes, yes! Please Sam!” I cried, begging.

He slammed his hand down on my mouth, letting out a small laugh. “Don't fucking scream.”

My response was muffled, but he could tell what I said.

He lowered his mouth to my ear, whispering aggressively, “Squeeze around me. Do it, Y/N. Come for me.”

I bucked my hips with abandonment, my head falling back as my cries were silenced by his hand. Sam grunted lowly as he came, his fingers pressing into my clit while he was deep inside of me. My body spasmed, my orgasm hitting me in waves.

Sam fell against me, his hands sliding and wrapping around me in a soft embrace. We stood there for a moment, catching our breaths.

The silence was cut suddenly.... by the sound of Colby's door shutting.

We pulled away from one another, glancing at each other with wide eyes. We hastily pulled our clothes back on, fixing ourselves as best we could before Colby appeared.

I turned my back towards the boys, a noticeable blush on my face. I ran my fingers through my hair, adjusting it the best I could.

“Hey did you guys order Taco Bell yet?” Colby called, his voice coming from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Um, uh. N-no. Not yet.” Sam stammered out, clearing his throat.

Colby sighed dramatically. “Can you hurry up and do it? I'm fucking starving.”

I turned around, finally feeling relaxed enough to join in. “Yeah Sam, hurry up. I'm hungry.”

“I thought you said you were full.” He stared at me with a playful glint in his eye.

“Well,” I jested, cursing him out in my head, “I guess I have a bigger appetite than I thought.”

I gave Colby a quick once over, realizing he was shirtless and in sweatpants, like usual.

Definitely a bigger appetite…

#sam golbach #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach x reader #sam and colby smut #sam golbach fic #sam golbach angst #sam golbach one shot #sam golbach oneshot #colby brock #sam and colby

[chestharrington]

🌝 hi im back hehehehe a steve harrington fic where you’re teasing him (grinding at a bar????????? mayhaps?????) and then you turn around to him just 🤠 bc he 100% came in his pants thank u mamas

Heyyyy sexy <3 This is short (sozz) and I took liberties pls forgive me. But the heart of the matter is the same: Steve Harrington WILL bust in his pants. AMEN!

Rating: E (18+) Kinda

Warnings: Drinking (which shouldn’t be a warning. GROW UP!), making out, premature ejaculation

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had been clinging to your side like a baby duck the entire night, never wandering farther than arm's length. A warm hand on the small of your back as you made your way through the crowded frat house, a warm lap to sit on when your feet started aching and the ugly leather couch started calling your name.

“You don’t have to babysit tonight,” you murmured after you sat down in the , pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“I know,” he replied. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, protective and comfortable. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the plush skin as he looked at you. “I trust you, I just don’t trust these college guys.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re all protective,” you teased, poking his side. “Are you even having a little fun?” His guilty expression and lack of response said all you needed to know.

You stood and pulled him off the couch with a scheming grin. “We’re going to go slam a beer, and then you’re going to dance with me to whatever shitty music they have playing. Then we’re going to try the jungle juice, dance a little more, and after that we’ll bail and go make out in your car.” You raised a brow. “Any questions?”

“No questions. But you’re really sexy when you boss me around,” he said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. You grinned at his words and guided him through the packed house to find the nearest cooler.

Things were going pretty well until your first cup of jungle juice. There was definitely some sort of mixer there, but, by taste alone, you would’ve guessed it was just food coloring to turn all the liquor red.

“We’re gonna have to call Robin to drive us home,” Steve shouted over the music as he downed the last swill in his red solo cup. You nodded and poured a little more in your cup, which you easily chugged down.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and stood on tiptoes to press a messy kiss to Steve’s lips. As soon as you pulled away, a smile spread across your lips. “Let’s go dance! I love this song!”

Despite the crowd, you managed to pull him through the crowd on clumsy footing. Everyone was in similar states of carefree and giddy drunkenness, so no one really cared if you bumped into them. You guided him until you were practically back to back with the sound system and started dancing.

You really didn’t love this song. You didn’t even think you’d heard it before. But there was a good beat, and Steve’s hands were warm on your exposed skin, pulling your back right against him.

He was planting clumsy kisses along your jaw and throat as he held you tight, letting you move and sway against him. You relished in the feeling of his fingertips toying with the hem of your shirt just itching to slip beneath.

Your hands settled atop his, guiding them to your hips as you moved. You spared a glance back and felt your heart flutter at the sight of him— hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed.

A few songs later, his hands were back under your shirt and you were itching to escape the crowd. Which is how you wound up down the block in the backseat of the Beamer.

Warm hands splayed across your ass as you straddled his lap, lips barely leaving his except for very necessary gasps for breath. He tasted like jungle juice, but you didn’t care.

“See?” You gasped between kisses. He held you firm on his lap, guiding you as you ground against him. “Told you that we needed to get out for once.”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, chasing your lips, tongue licking into your mouth with a needy desperation. Occasionally, passing cars would light up the interior, but you were both too drunk on each other to care.

Distantly, you could hear the bass shaking the frat house off the foundations, and cheers as someone broke the keg stand record for the night. But after a while, the sounds of Steve’s lips smacking against yours, and soft moans slipping past his lips when you moved against him took over your entire brain.

It could’ve been fifteen minutes or an hour. Time got a little fuzzy when you both got drunk and touchy. His hands were so tight on your hips that it might have actually left bruises, which would’ve been a problem for tomorrow.

You had only just started toying with his hair when he pulled back from the kiss with a muffled whimper, panting softly.

“Did I pull your hair too hard?” You asked sheepishly, giving his scalp a soothing scratch.

“No! No it felt nice,” he insisted. His cheeks were a burning pink, which matched his kiss-swollen lips. You leaned in and gave one chaste kiss, before leaning in to start up the make-out session again. You rolled your hips against his briefly before he grabbed your hips in his hands, keeping them still. “Can we just take a… I dunno… five minute breather?”

You raised a brow and moved your hands between the two of you, only to find a wet patch on his jeans. You bit your lip in an attempt to hide your grin, but it was too late. “Aww… you came from a bit of kissing?” His cheeks flushed impossibly deeper, as you pecked kisses along his cheek. “That is… surprisingly sexy.”

“It’s so not my fault,” he insisted, practically pouting until your words registered. “Wait— it is?”

“Mhmm…” You replied as you began stroking him teasingly over his denim. “Actually… I kind of want to make you do it again.”

#italics went poof when i pasted this here #use your imagination #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #blurbs

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas. 

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it. 

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic. 

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling. 

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’ 

It had carried on from there.  

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail. 

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand. 

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand. 

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.” 

“From the sauce?” 

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience. 

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger. 

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine. 

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much. 

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently. 

You stay staring. 

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.” 

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? Why?” 

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessupdates @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[onesidedradiostatic]

Real talk

Im sooooo tired of Vox always being portrayed as the victim and Alastor the only one 100% responsible for their friendship falling apart

Did we all suddenly forgot that Vox is a terrible person too? He brainwashes his audience, he supports Val, he is willing to offer his lowest employees for Val to kill, he's also prob abusive to his employees as well, he stalks pretty much everyone, he has like 5 cameras inside Angel's dressing room, also it's like implied he's jealous of Angel because he gets Val's attention, him being jealous of Angel for being a victim of abuse is pretty messed up if you ask me. Oh he also told Sir Pentious to fucking kill himself and he also gets hard of seeing people in pain and get hurt! (Sure it was Alastor but still messed up)

" he looks so sad at the end of stayed gone when Alastor threatens him I feel so bad for him:(("

Really ? Well maybe if he had just kept his little hate boner for Al to himself instead of feeling to need to start publicly slandering him it wouldn't had happened. Just saying. Also I don't see how people feel bad for him. If anything he looks so extremely pathetic it's laughable I want to kick him

Okay this is kinda out of the point I want to make it's just many people who make him the victim seem to forget he's a terrible person so I just wanted to friendly remind everyone that he's as awful as Al ^^

Anyway

I think, we should acknowledge, that it's a complicated, and probably tragic, situation. What if, maybe, they're both as equal at fault for shit going down hills for their friendship. Vox because he doesn't respect others wishes and cannot take no for an answer, he prob tried forcing Al to move on with recent technology, which Al hates. ((His request to Al to join the Vees also prob meant catching up with the nowdays stuff and new technology, like the rest of them)) and Al because he was prob unnecessary cruel and brutal with his rejection.

I don't think Al was just using Vox like I've seen many people say. He allowed Vox to take a picture of them together. For Al to do that I think it confirms their friendship was genuine. "Ah but it's Alastor so that means it was fake cuz he's an evil manipulative bastard who only cares for him-" You're wrong, but also right lol. He's an evil manipulative bastard, but , he's also capable of genuine friendships with others (( did y'all forget Rosie lol? )). What I think happened is that, time passed , things changed. Vox became obsessed with new technology and tried to force Al to follow in, Al didn't like that, but instead of communicating with eachother and solving their problems by talking it out and respect eachother's wishes, they had an unnecessary argument and fight. They're both to blame for this, they're no victims in the situation and it's okay you can still sympathise with eithers side

Also people who make Al the villain for like not returning Vox's confession and feelings in most One sided Radiostatic videos/fics I've seen-- yikes.. I really hate that I have to literally say to PLEASE don't villiantise the aroace character for being aroace and rejecting confessions. It's extremely ace/arophonic (and yes I get to have a say to this, I'm a replused aroace videos/fics like this genuinely make me feel negative emotions) even if he was extremely cruel with his rejection -- villiantise the fact that he's an asshole- not his rejection.

yes I agree!! this is essentially a consolidation of points I've made before ksdlfglg

like yes, alastor's an absolute shithead but I think there are some people who forget that vox is also... not a good person. I don't think there's anything wrong with there being sympathetic aspects to vox but I feel like there's such a huge amount of fanwork where he's the only one portrayed sympathetically without showing his own bad points in their relationship, and I absolutely hate it when alastor is fully blamed for how vox is now and vox is seen as

yeah

vox got pissy at a rejection, that's not being able to take no for an answer, that's incel behaviour LMAO

feel like there's something to be said about people feeling the need to sympathise with the one with unrequited feelings compared to the one who has to deal with someone expecting romance from them when they don't feel the same. does it have to do with society's expectations about romance that unrequited feelings are more sympathisable?

but yeah I am glad that at least the "complicated" part of the description of their relationship implies to me it won't be as simple as "vox was the poor victim and alastor was just using him", I think it is much more interesting if there's no clear victim and both were at fault in a way

#ask #osrs.txt #I'm gonna avoid heavy tagging because I don't wanna attract discourse #onewaybroadcast #okay to rb if you want though

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [M, 27k, Harry/Louis]

Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you.

Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Sometimes it's both.

In Louis' and Harry's case, it's both.

＊ Pathema Proteleia by @persephoneflouwers [M, 53k, Louis/Harry]

A few years ago, Omega Prince Harry left his husband and mate Alpha Louis without any apparent reason. When enemies of the Royalty make an attempt on his life and threaten to hurt Omegas, Louis has to ask the Prince for help.

Or The Greek Tragedy AU (but with the happiest ending).

＊ I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It) by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 345 words, Harry/Louis]

"I just- Everyone was there and- and they were all happy and in love and I just- I needed to get out of there, Lou." Harry sniffled, wrapping his coat closer to himself as he trudged down the street. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they all get to be happy and in love and have their partners with them when I can't be with you."

OR The one where Harry misses Louis

＊ A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [M, 11k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.

＊ tell me what the hell we're feeling (if you don't do feelings) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is getting over a breakup. Louis doesn't date. Neither of them is interested in a relationship -- but they are interested in each other's bodies. It takes a global pandemic for them to admit that maybe there's more than just lust between them.

＊ April Drools! by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 1k, Louis centric ot 5 pairings]

Louis offers a particularly slobbery blow job to his clients who'd rather not be made a fool of on April 1st. Of course, he's got an option for those who don't mind being a little humiliated as well. Part 12 of Glory Hole-idays

＊ I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence [NR, 74k, Louis/Harry]

“Louis,” Harry breathed happily. His smile widened as he realized he’d finally found him, and he was stood before his soulstar. This was the closest they’d been in 31 Earth years, which had felt extraordinarily long for Harry, even in his star form. He could hardly withhold his happiness at seeing him again.

“Erm, yeah,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts with his brows furrowing and looking clearly suspicious. “And you are?”

Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

This leaves Harry to break the rules and instead of waiting for Louis to call him and join him on Earth, he crashes down on his own. Without Louis there to guide him and help him learn how to adjust to having a human body and everything associated with that, Harry has no other choice but to do the best he can.

As Harry tries to correct what has gone wrong, he finds that friendship can be a light even in the darkest night, and through those bonds even separated soulstars can find their fated path once more.

＊ Love Like This by @reminiscingintherain [E, 32k, Zayn/Louis/Liam]

A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. With appearances from Lottie as Louis' helpful sister, Harry as his best friend, and Niall as Liam's golf instructor (or gardener? or something else?).

＊ Ghost of a Name by @signofcomfort [G, 35k, Louis/Harry]

Louis leaves the band in the middle of the tour and drops off the face of the earth. Five years later, they might have a chance to meet him. Harry can finally have some answers and tell the truth for the first time.

- Podfics -

＊ Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence read by @podfic-pals [NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis]

Funny how Louis could sum up everything he’d had with Zayn so easily.

Ex. One syllable, two letters. Fourteen years of friendship and marriage and everything else they had been to each other, put together and explained to anyone who asked with that one tiny word. Ex. Ex-Best Friend. Ex-Lover. Ex-Husband. Ex-everything, really. Zayn had truly become his everything, and Louis still ached in the spaces within that used to be filled by him, even all these years later.

Sometimes love was a bitch.

Or the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

#28th appreciation #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #cristalreads

[umbrellacam]

*steeples fingers and stares at my tablet with gimlet eyes*

so. Road to NML. You mean to tell me that the reason the rest of the country, Congress, and the President himself decided to write Gotham off, blow the bridges, and isolate everyone left - all criminals and asylum lunatics and 'undesirables', of course - was in large part due to *checks notes* a satanic rock star's unnatural, irresistible charisma and cult-like media manipulations aimed at dooming the city for his own benefit?

and that in order to find out what actually happens to this villain, who disappears from the Batman and 'Tec storylines...I'd have to *checks notes* read Azrael's event issues?

....yeah, PASS. I only included JPV's book on my reading list when I absolutely had to (*cough* whenever Cass pops up *cough*), so it's off to the wiki summaries for me!

...but okay, on the one hand I find it very funny how thoroughly fandom has excised this demonic media influencer aspect from the collective consciousness of NML - or at least it had never made its way to me via either fic or fandom posts. I know how few people read comics in general in this fandom, and even for those who do, NML is a Beast that only a percentage have tackled (see: me just starting to pick away at it!), so honestly it's not that surprising.

and like it can easily be left out of the story and still leave it coherent lmao!! One can certainly argue things are in fact neater that way; certainly it's not something that would ever be kept (or at least not in the same form) if NML were adapted to another medium, except as perhaps a normal media demagogue (or a montage of them).

but on the other hand...hmm. Thinking about Hurricane Katrina hitting all of six years after the NML storyline played out. And the debate over whether funds should be used for reconstructing New Orleans and other massively damaged areas. And people around the country wondering if New Orleans would or should be rebuilt at all. Or if a vibrant, historic city would just be basically wiped off the map.

I know this is a conversation that happens everywhere and every time a major disaster wrecks a city. There are always huge fights over disaster aid and funding allocations of any kind.

but man. It's something to see this fictionalized depiction in such close proximity to a real life disaster that paralleled it so strongly, and to know that - yes, there are always people who Do Not Abandon Their Homes and work to reclaim them. Yes, massive amounts of aid (federal and otherwise) and federal reconstruction funding did get dispensed. Yes, people cared, and yes, we rebuilt.

so...maybe we do actually need the demonic social media influencer's evil powers in order to comic book logic explain how everyone in the country turned their backs on Gotham and created No Man's Land.

like - no, it's not necessary. the narrative would work without it. and yet...

the premise imagines - requires? - a significantly more callous, selfish populace. Still plausible and compelling! Possibly even stronger as a story since the turnaround for No Man's Land still hinges on winning the country over to open Gotham back up, let aid in, and rebuild. But. You do have to start from - kind of a bleaker take on humanity?

it also kind of reminds me of what scintillyyy pointed out a few weeks ago about Dick killing the Joker, and how actually there's an important comic book superpower interaction going on there, too, with Rancor present massively amplifying Dick's hate and anger to push him over the edge.

but so few people ever notice or remember that and it certainly isn't one of those things that gets transmitted via fandom osmosis. (It was news to me!!) People focus on Dick breaking down and letting loose solely due to being pushed too far.

and that's extremely compelling on its own! It is! Just like the no-satanic-Nick-Scratch NML.

just thinking about fandom's tendency to ellide the supernatural or powered influences that are canonically affecting a situation, in order to explore/focus on more purely humanistic explanations or motivations...that actually end up being darker than what we might reasonably expect from real life, or from a character's typical values.

like it's part wanting to brush off comic book nonsense, part wanting to dive into gritty realism (that's not always realistic), part not having all the information because of learning things secondhand so you construct the most reasonable explanation...idk it's just interesting.

anyway.

more importantly: Dick and Tim are adorable in 'Tec 727-729!! Especially love them trading off yelling each other's names in fear/alarm, and also trading off protecting each other - Dick's "You hurt that kid and you're gonna be eating through a tube!" and Tim's clever solo rescue of a thoroughly captive Dick via clever use of a voice modulator and a two-way radio. The Boys 😊

#Cam reads comics #hopscotching around between different time periods because violent FOMO yearning for different eras and interactions always strikes #Cam posts

[weird-obsessed-girl]

Bagginshield Fic Rec

I can’t believe I’ve had such an intense revival into The Hobbit Fandom after being obsessed with the movies when they came out just over 10 years ago now. There’s just some fandoms that have consistently amazing fanfics that are written beautifully and with such interesting concepts.

Some of these are a bit silly and cracky but i think that’s the appeal of The Hobbit, it’s a bit more cheerful than LOTR (vehemently ignoring Battle of the Five Armies)

So below is a list of fics I have loved reading organised by word count smallest to largest.

If you have any fics that you’ve read and don’t see here please share them with me! P.S, if you need more fics to read after these please check out the author’s other works.

Fanfiction Title - Author

Tags, description of fic | word count | rating

And Down the Road I Goes - pibroch (littleblackdog)

Kid!fic, mpreg, humour, dwobbits, beard problems | 1.3k | T

All That Glitters - BeautifulFiction

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, Dwarven culture and customs, Dwarven jewellery | 1.5k | G

Truth - alkjira

Body image issues, post-BAFTA, everybody lives, Dwarven beauty standards | 1.9k | T

Brethren, Braids and a Bothersome Burglar - Frankensteins_Monster

Unintentional Dwarven courting, and then intentional after communication is cleared up, Hair Braiding | 2.3k | T

There is A Child - smileybagel

Foresight, canonical character death, Thorin POV | 2.7k | T

Of the King and Consort’s Portraits - undomiel (dolcewrites)

Cultural differences, painting portraits, Erebor and Shire Parallels, domestic fluff | 3.4K | T

Shorn - Avelera

Mourning ritual, Dwarf culture and customs, misunderstandings, pre-slash, Long-beards mentioned! 3.5k | G

A Chance to Make It Right - smileybagel

Thorin is offered a second chance, magical dreams of future children, second part to “There is A Child” | 3.6k | G

The Proper Way To Call You Mine - Fantasyinallforms

Hair braiding, post-BAFTA, misunderstandings, Fili and Kili meddling, getting together, jealous Thorin | 3.6k | T

And in our love u see golden things - Seungshi03

Goldsickness as a mental health condition, domestic fluff, consort Bilbo | 3.7k | G

Riddles in the Dark Brought into the Light - Lucigoo89

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, PTSD, loooove fics where the trauma from the journey is included, background Dwalin/Nori | 3.8k | G

In More than the Wisdom of Years - jezebel_rising

Dis POV, everyone lives, reunions, Dis and Bilbo friendship | 4.2k | Not rated

A Dwarven Beauty - bevel_bee

Dwarven beauty standards, Bilbo is considered very attractive, but he’s very oblivious to the compliments, post-BAFTA | 4.6k | G

The Seven Gifts - snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)

Dwarf and hobbit courting, awkwardness, Bilbo remains in Erebor, miscommunication | 5.1k | G

The Stone’s Gift - SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Established relationship, consort Bilbo, “the Dwarven equivalent of cabbage patch hobbits”, dwarves made from literal stone, unplanned pregnancy | 5.2k | T

One Remedy for Gold Sickness (or maybe two) - randi2204

Bilbo uses an ancient hobbit remedy for greedy folks, flabbergasted dwarves | 5.8k | T * need to have an Ao3 account

Better an ugly face than an ugly mind - unpeumacabre

Dwarven beauty standards (and hobbit ones), Thorin POV | 6.1k | T

A Minor Problem - fideliant

Smut, thorin finds out Bilbo’s age, obliviousness to different species’ life expectancies | 6.4K | E

Bruises on the Heart - thehufflepuffhobbit

5 + 1 times, soulmate au, Thorin POV, bruises, sharing a bed, during the journey | 7.8k | E

Clue-finder - TheGrayKnight

Post-BAFTA, Dwarven courting, cultural differences | 9k | G

Queen Under the Mountain - benny_Laur

Character death (not really), Dis POV, I LOVE DIS, Requited love, Kili definitely should not be in charge of communications | 11k | Not rating

Call You Home - northerntrash

Hobbit culture, including hidden names (I like the hobbit side as it’s a popular trope that dwarves have hidden names), Thorin’s puppy-eyes, the company | 11.9K | Not rated

Planting a Hobbit - northerntrash

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, homesickness, domestic fluff, Thorin builds Bilbo a garden trope! 13k | Not rated

Forget-Me-Not - kerkusa, LordOfTheRazzles

Established relationship, post-BAFTA, healing Thorin causes temporary amnesia, Dwarf and Hobbit courting (again) | 14k | G

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) - Lucigoo89

I have yet to read this yet but it looks very promising! Bilbo has died and now it’s time for him to smuggle himself into Mahalia Halls to see his love again | 15.1k | T

Ere Break of Day - alexaprilgarden

During the journey, falling in love, Dwarven Ones, soulmates, everyone lives, angst | 15.6k | E

The Different Shades of Bilbo’s Love - SunnyRose

Kid Bilbo wants to be friends with Thorin, consenting adult romance later on, friends to lovers, flower language, Belladonna Took! 17.5k | G

I have loved you and you have not known it - KaavyaWriting

Miscommunication, the company come up with a way of making friends with a hobbit that is inaccurate, jealous Thorin, during the journey | 17.7k | G

You Got Me - drunkonwriting

Company-centric, dwarf culture, fluff, during the journey, friendship fic | 18.9k | G

Gardening - The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Bilbo returns to Shire, Kid!fic, cabbage patch hobbits, Bilbo’s under the impression Thorin died (he’s wrong) | 19.7k | T

My Princess, My Love, Marry Me! - mordelle

Alt universe, Princess Thorin visits the Shire, pinning Bilbo, Thorin is considered ugly by Dwarven beauty standards, smut | 36.3k | E

#bagginshield #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #middle earth #fanfiction #middle earth fanfiction #the hobbit movies #dwarf culture #mahal #dwarf courting #hobbit courting #Erebor #bilbo x thorin #bilbo Baggins x thorin Oakenshield #thilbo #thilbo bagginshield #dwarrow

[lostfirefly]

Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright

The idea for the fic came to me completely by accident. A friend who has a child talked about how she spends time with him. And I have no idea how to communicate with children. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy and F/Reader - Masterlist is here.

Description: You and Buggy have a little daughter. The ship is moored and you go to rest, leaving Buggy with the child.

Warnings: Fun (I have no experience with kids, sorry if there are discrepancies), Buggy is practically hysterical.

Words: 1815

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots

The title is taken from “Mockingbird” by Eminem.

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“Y/N, it’s screaming again!” Buggy growled into his pillow. 

“That's not it, Buggy, it's your daughter.” You muttered into his chest.

“This is your baby, velvet cake.” He buried his face in your hair.

“It’s as much mine as it is yours, Buggy.” You stroked his arm. “We made her together. Remember that night? At the end of sex you yelled that you would become king of the pirates.” 

“It was good!” He reluctantly got out of bed and walked towards the crib that was located not far from your shared bed. 

Inside the crib lay a little girl with Y/E/C and blue hair. Every time Buggy looked at his daughter, he was glad inside himself that she had not inherited his nose. 

“What should I do with her?” He asked loudly. 

“First of all, don't scream. Second of all, rock her first.”

“I'm not very good with children. Can I wait until she turns 18 and then start raising her?” Buggy looked at you as you stretched in bed. “How did I even end up with children?” He scratched his head and took the child into his arms. “So, what is next?” 

“Just rock her. Like this.” You took the pillow in your hands and showed how it should be done. 

“OK.” Buggy swung his daughter one way, then the other, then swung her one way again and the other again. "Seems to work, velvet cake! She cries less.” 

“You see, you're doing great, my love.” You got out of bed, put on your slippers and, shuffling along the floor, approached them both. "You'll learn everything in time, Buggy. Hello, my Lily Gold." You waved to your daughter. 

“It’s easy for you to say - you’ll learn.” Buggy chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re a woman, you know how to do it. It’s in your nature.” 

“Hell, no!” You shook your head. “It just somehow happened that I had to take one under my wing to raise one.” You pecked him on the cheek. “Big.” Smack on his lips. “Capricious.” Smack on his nose. “Child. So, I’ll go wash up and make us breakfast. I also need to go to the store on the island and buy something.” 

“What? Did something happen?” Buggy became noticeably nervous. “Are you feeling unwell? Is there something wrong with the baby?”   

“No, no!” You softened your voice, trying to calm him down. “Don't get me wrong, I love you both, but I want to get some rest. I have a spa appoitnment.” 

While you were making breakfast, Buggy sat next to you, holding your daughter in his arms. He was loudly clattering plates and mugs and yelling at anyone who came into the kitchen and spoke loudly (so it seemed to him, even though everyone was whispering). Buggy and your daughter at breakfast certainly made you smile, but at the same time it was a disaster. They were both constantly dropping things, getting messy in their food, and they both started whining if something didn't go their way. You would just roll your eyes, convincing yourself that he was the love of your life, the love you sometimes wanted to strangle. You got up from your chair, wiped their faces, and continued drinking your morning coffee.

You went to your room, Buggy and Lily followed you. He constantly asked how soon you would return, what he should do and how to get along with children in general. 

“Learn, daddy! You are the culprit of this creature.” You adjusted his bandana and looked into his scared eyes. “For the record, I have no regrets. I love our family. You and our daughter. But since this will be a copy of you, I need to gain strength. That's it, I'm off. Bye, my love. Bye, Lily! I'll be back in three hours.”

“THREE HOURS???” Buggy's eyes widened, but he looked at your slightly tired face, exhaled and kissed your forehead. “Fine.”

“Bye, my captain. I love you!" You pecked him on the lips and left. 

Buggy sat down on the bed, holding Lily in his arms. Fortunately, she was no longer a newborn baby, because that period was a nightmare for you. The baby was screaming all the time, Buggy was screaming all the time. 

“So. What should I do with you?” Buggy took his daughter and turned her over in his hands. She laughed happily and tried to grab his nose. “No, Lily! Not the nose! We don't touch daddy's nose.” He muttered and looked around. “Oh! You're a child. You must love toys, right?”

Buggy grabbed Lily in his arms, walked with her to the toys and put her on the floor. “Who do you want to play, me sweet candy? Pony? Lamb? Pig?" He sorted through the toys and showed them one by one. 

The girl looked at her father with batted eyes and grabbed his nose again. 

“Fuck! Lily Gold! You can't touch daddy's nose!” Buggy leaned back a little. 

“Honk!” Lily said and pointed to her nose. “Dad. Nose. Honk.” 

Buggy looked at his daughter doomedly. “Do you want dad to make a honk with his nose? Maybe you’ll choose the lamb?” 

She shook her head, made a face and crossed her arms.

He rolled his eyes, growled and said a dissatisfied “okay”, squeezing his nose so that it made a sound. “You like your mother, love to do this with me. Well, Lily. What else do you want to do?”

Buggy tilted his head and looked at his daughter. “Thank God you don't have my nose." He took her in his arms and said in a whisper. “But daddy will always protect you. You and your mom. I never let someone hurt you, my biggest treasure." Buggy kissed his daughter on the top of the head. 

Lily got off his feet, took the ball and handed it to him.

“Lily Gold, daddy doesn't know how to make balloon dogs.” Buggy shrugged.  

She immediately made a face again and began to scream, and cry. 

Buggy rolled his eyes and hissed through his teeth . “Mother fuc~. Okay, I'll do it, just stop yelling!" He took the balloon, somehow inflated it and made something that vaguely resembled a dog. He gave it into his daughter's hands, and the balloon immediately burst. And Lily yelled even louder. 

“Fu-u-ck! What does your mother do at such moments?” Buggy grabbed his head. 

At that moment, one of the freaks knocked on the cabin. “Captain?!”

“WHAT?!” Buggy barked and went to the door.

“We are almost replenished, and we know where the Straw Hat's are going.” The freak gave him papers.

“I don't give a fuck about the Straw Hat right now.” He threw the papers back in the man's face. “I'm sitting with the daughter while Y/N is away.” 

“Excuse me, Captian, you're not sitting with your daughter.” The freak shook his head. 

“What? What are you talking about! Here s~.” Buggy pointed his finger at the place where he was sitting a couple of minutes ago. 

“Where? Where's she? Where's the baby?” He grabbed the freak by the clothes and started shaking him. “Where is my daughter?” 

“I don't know, Capta-a-in!!” The freak's head was bobbing like a bobblehead. 

“Oh, fuck!! Oh, fuck!! Y/N will kill me. She will kill me!” Buggy grabbed his head and began to rush around the room. “Get out of the way!” He threw the freak aside and ran out of the cabin. 

Buggy practically ran around the ship, calling his daughter's name in a whisper. He was afraid that you might appear earlier. He turned the corner and saw blue hair flash. 

“Gotcha!” Buggy hugged Lily tighter and picked her up. “How did you manage to escape? For year and a half, you are a very fast girl! Don't scare dad like that again, okay?”

“Richie! Richie!” Lily grabbed Buggy by the hair and began to pull.

“Ouch! No-o-o! We're not going to Richie, Lily! He's probably sleeping.” Buggy carried the girl back to the cabin and sat her on the bed. “I don’t know what to do with you. Do you want to draw? Let’s draw!” He took out pencils and sheets of paper and gave them to her. 

“Richie!” Lily threw everything on the floor. 

“OK.” He scratched his head and looked around, “Do you want to play balll? Let's play ball!” He gave Lily a small yellow ball. “See? Are you happy? Please, my sweet candy, show daddy your happy face!”

“Richie!!” Lily threw the ball in Buggy's face. 

“Damn!” He rubbed his forehead. “What should I do with you?!” Buggy grabbed his head and was ready to scream. “I know! Let daddy show you some chop chop tricks!” He separated his hand and gave it into his daughter's hands. “You see how dad can do it? Cool? Please, say it’s cool!!” Buggy was on the verge of hysterics. 

“RICHIE!!!” Lily stomped her foot and threw her hand at Buggy's face. 

“Fuck!” He attached his hand back. “Okay. Do you want to see Richie? Let's go to see Richie. Maybe he'll finally eat daddy.” Buggy muttered under his breath, took Lily in his arms and walked down the ship. 

They entered the room where the lion was sitting, and Buggy put the girl on the floor. Lily looked at him and smiled. 

“What? Why are you smiling? Finally satisfied, little s~?” He crossed his arms.

“Richie-e-e!” Lily happily ran towards the lion and began to try to climb onto him. 

Buggy smiled and approached his daughter. He helped her climb up the lion and watched carefully to make sure she didn't fall. “That’s my girl! I'm so pr~” 

“What are you doing here?” Buggy heard your voice behind him. “I came to the cabin, and your freaks told me that you were with Richie.” You walked up to Buggy and kissed him on the cheek. “How are you?”

“We’re great. It’s easy to sit with kids. I don't understand why you're complaining.”

“Liar.” You hugged him and placed your head on his shoulder.

“Has it been three hours already?” Buggy wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“No. Just an hour. It turns out that I have a spa appointment for tomorrow. So you’ll have to sit with Lily tomorrow. By the way, I bought you a gift. Whiskey!” You pulled the bottle out from behind your back. “I also thought that maybe we could leave Lily to someone from the crew today and spend some time together? What do you think?” You snuggled closer to him and winked. 

“I like this idea. And you know what I was thinking of, my velvet cake?” Buggy looked at you with the corner of his eye, glancing at Lily.

“About what, my beloved Captain?” You asked softly and ran your fingers along his neck.

“Let’s have another child?!”

#one piece #buggy the clown #buggy live action #one piece live action #buggy one piece #opla buggy the clown #buggy fanfiction #buggy fic #opla buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy x female reader #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader

[radioapplerevue]

you have to be stupid to have a radioapple blog. it's like you didn't watch the show at all. they hate each other and alastor's aroace btw. lucifer's married! it's never gonna be canon. you're going to feel so dumb when s2 comes out

Friend. Friend, let me take your hand. Here, sit down. Are you feeling all right? Would you like some tea? I'm not sure why you are spending time on a blog for something you so clearly hate. There has to be things you can do that are more fun, surely.

I do have to say though, that it's a little funny that you seem to think that people can't ship things if they aren't canon -- as though the backbone of many fandoms going way back isn't non-canon ships. I'm pushing forty, okay. I'm far too old and tired to deal with younger fans and their fandom politics. As far as I'm concerned, fandom is for doing whatever is the most fun for you. If you only want what's in the canon, then just watch the show! But for me, fandom is for exploring, theorizing, connecting, creating.

Fandom, for me, considers the "he would never say/do that" statement less important than "okay, but what if he did say/do that. What would that look like, what would that change, where would the story go from there." That's what is so fascinating to me! I have plenty of canon ships, but I also have many non-canon ships, and I have to say, I tend to find more absolutely incredible fanfics for non-canon ships, because the author really has to put in the effort to make it work. And when they do, the payoff feels so damn good.

I've already explained why I ship these two on this blog before. But to make a long story short: I find their dynamic to have a lot of potential, and I badly want to see where that potential might go. Two powerful, messed up (in different ways) people learning to work with each other, respect each other, and perhaps even care about each other is so delicious. The show won't give me that. At most it might give me them becoming begrudging friends (my biggest wish for them from the show is that they fight together at some point, because that would be goooood), but I don't expect it. I have never seen anyone say that it's going to be canon, so I'm not sure where you're getting that from.

And I don't need it to be! No ship needs to be canon to be enjoyed. I feel fortunate enough that this is a big enough fandom and a big enough ship that I have a veritable buffet of great fanwork to enjoy. I'm used to smaller fandoms, so it's a treat. And as an aroace person, I really love seeing the flavors of ace that people work with in their fics/art. I haven't seen so much of that in a fandom before, and it's really fun. The different approaches they take regarding Alastor's unconventional sexuality, because we don't know where he falls on the spectrum -- and even if we did, it's fine to do what one wants to tell the story you want to tell. If I don't like it, I don't have to read it. This is a sandbox, and everyone can play with the toys whichever way makes them happy.

This was longer than the ask (if it can be called that) probably merits, but you can't gotcha me. I know why I'm here, and it's to have fun with these two absolute fucking disasters.

#.asks #radioapple

[ahockeywrites]

the service

pairing: aurelia mcavoy x trent frederic word count: 2.5k warnings: swearing, it’s my fic, there’s always swearing authors note: hello and welcome to another series that I hope I can finish (lol). hope you all enjoy!

Trent pushed open the door to the garage, feeling as though he was somewhere that he shouldn’t be. Charlie had recommended this garage as it had the best reviews for Porsche maintenance and was where he took his car. But it didn’t seem right. All he had to do was see if ‘Peanut’ worked here and if he did, then he would know if he was in the right place.

A gruff looking man with white hair and a long beard sat behind the counter and now Trent felt as though he really shouldn’t be here.

“Charlie McAvoy said I should come here for my car’s service?” He weakly asked, really feeling as though he was in the complete wrong part of town.

“Freddy with a Porsche?” He man behind the desk asked, after flicking through a few pages of the large diary that sat in front of him.

Trent nodded, feeling slightly more relaxed that be was definitely in the right place and that Charlie hadn’t sent him on a wild goose chase around the city. That wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen to him. 

When he was a rookie in Providence, the older players told him that they were having after game drinks at a bar. A bar that didn’t exist in Rhode Island. It was in California. Trent was pissed but ended up channeling his anger into a fight in the following game.

“Peanut will be with you in a moment, they’re just finishing up on a vintage 911,” the man explained.

Fuck, a vintage 911. How Trent wished he could own one of them but the upkeep on it would be more than he could handle. Especially when he had no clue about cars. But fuck, if he knew someone who knew their way around a car, his first purchase would be a vintage 911.

“Okay,” Trent replied, swinging his car keys around his finger as he wandered over to the notice board on the other side of the reception. The Bruins key ring hit against the plastic of his car key as he kept himself distracted waiting for Peanut.

“Freddy with a Porsche Cayenne?” A distinctly feminine voice with a strong Boston accent called out into the reception. Trent looked around, realised he was the only person in the room and then figured out that it was for him. 

“That’s me,” he replied, spinning around to be greeted with a short woman with an imposing stature. Her dark hair was tied up in a ponytail behind her and Trent had no inclination of who she was except for the name Peanut. That surely couldn’t have been her name. But it was the name that was stitched into her dark blue overalls. 

“I’m Aurelia but everyone here calls me Peanut. You met Gramps,” she pointed at the older man sat behind the counter, who offered Trent a wave. “It’s dad and I who are working today but occasionally you’ll get Adam who’s my brother working when he’s not at collage.”

Trent just nodded, that was more of an info dump that he expected from his mechanic but it really did feel like a family run business the way they treated him.

“Sorry for the run down,” Peanut apologised,  most people here are regulars and know all of us. But you’re new, so you get the speed rundown. So, your Cayenne, what we needing for it?”

The hockey player thought for a moment. Why did he actually come here again? Oh crap yeah.

“Just a yearly service,” Trent got out, slightly in awe of the pretty girl standing in front of him. She was beautiful, he hoped that Charlie hadn’t mentioned this garage to any of the other players as he wanted to call dibs on her. Well, if that was still a thing that people did.

“I can’t sweet talk you into an engine upgrade, car wrap or new rims?” Peanut giggled as she headed out to the front where Trent had parked his car.  

You could sweet talk me into anything, he thought but did say that. He just apologised and reaffirmed his need for a service and nothing else. 

Peanut shook her head in mock disgust. “Damn, I always try that with the cute ones and it never works,” she laughed once more as she squatted down to look at the brake discs and callipers for a quick first inspection. “Left hand side looks good, from first glance but let me check the right.” 

Peanut zipped around to the other side and did the same tyre and brake check confirming her initial thoughts that there probably wouldn’t be anything wrong with them. 

“Looks like you don’t need new tyres but I can’t confirm that until I properly check them,” Peanut smiled. “So I’ll just need your keys and it should be a few hours.”

“Sounds good, do you need my number?” Trent asked, not realising how it sounded.

“Well,” Peanut raised an eyebrow, “my personal phone is missing the number of an attractive Porsche driver.” 

A faint blush tinted the hockey player’s cheeks as it clicked in his head what he said and how it could be interpreted.

“Not like that,” he quickly backtracked, not wanting to make it seem as though he wasn’t interested but he was. He had placed himself in a sticky situation.

“Don’t worry,” Peanut explained. “Gramps will take your details before I drive it around the back. He’ll also explain how much it’ll cost. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to move my car out of the way.”

Peanut skipped back to the garage and opened the roller shutter doors. A white Porsche 911 Carrera from 1973 backed out of the opening and the same person who he was envious of earlier happened to be Peanut as she reversed out of the garage and into a spot on the side of the road.

She jumped out of the driver’s side door and invited Trent back inside to fill in all the paperwork that they needed before they could get started on servicing the car. 

“Right, I’ll leave you with Gramps to get all the boring stuff sorted and I’ll be in the back, see you later!” Peanut waved and stormed through the door at a speed that had Trent concerned for the door.

“Don’t worry about my granddaughter, she’s always had this sort of energy,” the man that Peanut called Gramps explained. “That will be 300 dollars for the service and if Peanut finds anything else, it’s labour hours plus parts. All good?”

Trent nodded again before handing his keys over to Gramps and calling an Uber to take him back.

“You’ll call me when it’s good to pick up, yeah?” Trent asked, just making sure that he knew what was going on.

“Sure thing,” Gramps replied. “Should be done sometime this afternoon, provided no hiccups.” Trent nodded in appreciation before making his way outside to jump in the Uber to head back to his place.

Trent sat in front of his monitor, playing a solo game. He didn’t want to risk being involved in an online game with some of his teammates when he got the call to pick up his car. He felt limited in what he could do as Tuesday afternoons were usually the days he went food shopping, as long as he was in the city and not on a road trip. It was a slight change to his routine.

The doorbell went and Trent paused. He wasn’t expecting anyone or any deliveries so it must have been one of the guys. But why would any of them be visiting him on a random Tuesday afternoon?

He stood up and walked across to look through the peephole. Charlie was stood outside his door, hands in his pockets looking awkward. Trent had no idea why the defenceman was at his apartment when he knew Trent’s car was at the shop.

Trent opened the door and Charlie barrelled his way into the Boston apartment. He walked straight over to the kitchen, grabbed a glass for himself, filled it with water and drank the whole thing in one go. Water dripped from Charlie’s mouth but he quickly used his sleeve to wipe it away.

“You okay?” Trent asked, very confused as to what had just happened.

“Please tell me why my cousin just called me to say that Fit Freddy’s car is ready and that I should bring him to the garage?” Charlie growled, slightly concerned at what Aurelia had said on the phone. “And why she really wants your number?”

“It might help if I knew who your cousin is?” Trent replied, trying to make sense of the situation. He was racking his head to see if he knew an Aurelia. 

“Aurelia McAvoy, short, dark hair, sounds like she was raised in a barn?” Charlie explained, hands flailing around as though he couldn’t keep control of them. “You know, the cousin I consider a younger sister?”

Trent still looked confused. He didn’t know any Aurelia McAvoy… wait…

“You mean the mechanic?” Trent questioned. “Your cousin is Peanut?”

“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed. “My cousin is Aurelia. You went to my grandfather’s garage and my cousin is the one who has fixed up your car and supposedly given you the friends and family discount that no one outside of the actual family gets?”

Trent could see steam coming out of his teammates ears as he tried to make sense of the situation and also diffuse it. Playing mediator wasn’t his usual role on the team but he needed to today.

“Charlie,” Trent started, “I don’t know why she said that but if my car is ready to pick up. Maybe we should go and grab that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charlie responded before grabbing his keys from his pocket. “Let’s head out, see if Gramps can explain what’s going on. Fucking hope he can.”

The drive to the suburbs was painful for both hockey players. Charlie was still fuming that Trent had been flirting with his cousin, he couldn’t have Aurelia dating one of his teammates. As much as he loved his teammates, he did not want any of them dating someone he considered a second sister. Aurelia could absolutely deal with one of the Bruins, but she deserved better in his head. 

Trent was slightly annoyed that Charlie thought he was flirting with his cousin. He didn’t intend to flirt with her and if he did, he was only responding to her flirting. Maybe she flirted with all the customers to try and get as many extras sorted as possible. That had to be it. She must also have been riling up Charlie. This could be one of the things they did growing up and Trent was now just a pawn in their game. 

The drive was quiet, just the sounds of a local radio station in the background. But Trent could see that Charlie’s ears were still red so he was still angry. 

Charlie turned the steering wheel and parked up outside the garage. He had tried to use the drive to calm down but it really didn’t help. It didn’t help when the recipient of his anger was in the enclosed space with him.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” he muttered under his breath before opening his door and then slamming it shut. Trent followed suit but didn’t use the same amount of force as his counterpart. 

Charlie stormed his way into the reception area of the garage and Trent was hot on his heels. He just wanted his car back, he didn’t want to get in the middle of a McAvoy family argument, but it seemed like he would.

Aurelia looked up from over the counter to see her cousin looking at her with angry looking eyes. Crap, she thought, have I gone too far with this one? It was no secret that she fancied Trent, but it was something she didn’t want to share with Charlie as his rule since he started playing hockey was that she couldn’t date any of his teammates or opponents. Which she understood at the start when they were all teenagers. 

But then he started playing in the big leagues. And he was playing against Mat Barzal, Nathan MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby. The latter was the first player that Aurelia had on her wall when she used to play hockey, before she moved onto racing cars. 

But Trent was Charlie’s teammate. One of Charlie’s friends. Charlie was the one who took Trent under his wing and showed him around the city. Trent was also the only teammate who Charlie had sent to her garage. Well, Patrice Bergeron had also been there, but he was no longer a teammate to her cousin.

“What can I do for you, dear Charles?” Aurelia asked as she stood up, spinning Trent’s car keys on her index finger, just to provoke her cousin slightly more. 

“Trent is here for his car,” Charlie pointed to the forward standing next to him. “Gramps can show him the car. You and I need a little chat.” Aurelia rolled her eyes but handed the keys across to Gramps who took Trent out to the back to explain the costs and how much he owed.

It was silent and the tension between Charlie and Aurelia was high.

“Peanut,” Charlie groaned as he ran a hand through his locks. “Please tell me you didn’t give him a friends and family discount?”

“What if I did?” She retaliated before popping a piece of chewing gum into her mouth. “He’s a friend of yours, so he’s a friend of mine. You didn’t get like this when I gave the discount to Bergy?”

“You gave the discount to Bergy?” Charlie questioned. “That’s the first I’ve heard of this.”

“Whoops,” Aurelia shrugged. “So what, I’ve had a crush on Freddy since he fought Tanev. Makes sense I’d give the guy I fancy a discount, right?”

“Fucks sake,” Charlie had to sit down to control himself. “You fancy Freddy? That’s breaking rule one.”

“No,” countered Aurelia. “Breaking rule one would be if I started dating him.” She blew a large bubble with the gum in her mouth. “Today is the first time I’ve met him. Did I flirt with him? Yes, I mean who wouldn’t. Would I date him? If you let me get to know him, yes.”

Charlie opened his mouth to speak but Aurelia raised his hand to shut him up.

“But do I trust your opinion and reasoning as to why you don’t want me dating your teammates? Yeah, I do.” 

Charlie understood where Aurelia was coming from. She wasn’t the young girl he remembered. She was 25 now. Ran the family business and had a successful racing career on the side. 

“Peanut,” Charlie started. “I just wanna protect you. I won’t give you Freddy’s number just yet.” To that she rolled her eyes. “But if a load of us are hanging out with our partners and you’re free, I’ll invite you. How does that sound?”

“Significantly better than keeping me in my own bubble,” she replied. “Can I go and get Freddy sorted now? And can you fuck off until family dinner.”

“You got it peanut, just don’t make too many mistakes.”

Aurelia saluted before tacking her cousin before he was ready and took him down to the ground.

“Pfft,” she exclaimed. “NHL defender my ass.”

#ahockeywrites #trent x aurelia #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #trent frederic fic

[sturniolo-rat]

✨Chris Sturniolo Headcanons✨

For Black Girls✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

💋 Chris loves black girls

I’m sorry but in my head Chris prefers black girls. Like Atlanta Georgia black girls… thick, dark, dressed to the nines, hair done, acrylic nails 💅🏽💅🏾💅🏿absolute fucking queens. Like I don’t describe Y/N in any way but best believe if it’s a Chris fic she’s black to me.

💋 He sees fucking hates racists

This doesn’t actually need to be said but I figured We’d get this out of the way first. Chris definitely listens to you when you talk about race issues so he knows all about micro aggressions. He always notices them and stands up for you every time. “Baby, if anyone says that shit to you again I’m gonna catch an assault charge!”

💋 He owns silk sheets

This man most definitely would buy a full set of silk sheets after you sleep over his house for the first time and he notices you brought your own satin/silk pillowcase. He doesn’t realize it’s for your hair until he surprises you with them the next time you sleep over and you tell him. “Oh, I just thought you were being bougie.” Then he buys more sets of them because he decides to throw away all his cotton sheets.

💋 He learns your hair care routine

Chris is the only white person you trust to touch your hair. He makes taking care of your hair into a really loving and intimate experience. If you’re in the bath he adds epsom salts, sets up candles, and does a bunch of stuff to set the mood. “You have any music requests, Mama? If not I’m probably just gonna put on the sexy time playlist.” He sits out side of the bath and takes his time washing and conditioning your hair making sure to detangle and section it the way you taught him. He does the same thing when you’re in the shower except he stops occasionally to pull you close and feel you up. “Come here, Baby. You’re so fuckin’ pretty and you smell so nice and clean. I just can’t resist.”

💋 He sits with you when you’re getting your hair braided and brings you snacks

Before your appointment he packs you a lunch bag full of snacks for the both of you because of course he’s coming with you. “Alright, Baby, we’ve got Doritos, McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and a shit ton of candy. We’re all set to go.” If you think he’s not gonna come when you’re gonna be in the chair unable to get away from his yapping you are sorely mistaken. He’s always keeping everyone entertained and happy. “What’s up ladies! You have any tea for me today.” It’s just him feeding you snacks and having silly conversations with you and the person doing your hair. If you ever show up to your appointment without him everyone misses him.

💋 He pays for your acrylics

He insists on giving you the money every two weeks because he’s just “helping to keep his princess feeling pretty” He also likes to help you figure out designs and themes nails. He sends you random texts with nail inspo all the time. “I know a zoo theme seems extra, but let me cook, Mama!” I’m certain that he makes you get a C for Chris on one of your nails every time you get new set. This probably isn’t exclusive to black girls but like as a black person who gets their nails done I like to go all out on the designs and shit gets expensive.

💋 You convince him to wear a durag

He only agrees to do it one time in the house. You use the situation to teach him its use and significance in black hair care. It takes him a few tries and you have to demonstrate it a lot but eventually he is able to put it on correctly and he looks super cute. Not cute in a “this is a good look for you” kind of way, but in an aww “the little white boy is engaging in cultural appreciation” type of way. “I think if anyone saw me like this I would get cancelled.”

Taglist

Masterlist

Idk if people put their tag lists on headcanon posts??? Pls advise

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