#they don't even share a physical description

[atinyslittleworld]

Fighting Hearts

boxer! mingi x nurse! reader

Summary: Mingi, a powerful underground boxer ensnared in a dangerous gang world, finds solace in Y/N, his caring personal nurse.

Genre: angst, romance

Warnings: description of Mingi’s injuries, none other I think

Mingi was known in the underground as a force to be reckoned with. His fists, like iron hammers, struck fear into the hearts of his opponents and respect into the eyes of his allies. The underground boxing rings, dark and humid, filled with the murmur of shady deals and the scent of sweat and blood, were his home. But beyond the ring, Mingi was entangled in a world even darker—the labyrinthine networks of gangs that ruled the city's underbelly.

In this grim world, trust was scarce and loyalty was a rare commodity, often bought and sold like a commodity. Mingi, however, had one constant in his life: Y/N, his personal nurse. She was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise suffocating existence. Y/N had been assigned to him by the gang leader, ostensibly to keep their prized fighter in peak condition, but Mingi knew it was also to keep an eye on him.

Y/N was everything Mingi wasn't. She was gentle where he was harsh, calm where he was tempestuous. Her presence brought a strange sense of peace to his chaotic life. Despite the perilous environment, she remained kind and professional, trying her best to stay detached from the violence and criminality that surrounded her. But it wasn't long before she found herself drawn to Mingi, despite her better judgment.

Their relationship started innocuously enough. A smile here, a shared laugh there. Y/N couldn't help but admire Mingi's dedication to his craft, even if it was rooted in a violent world she abhorred. Mingi, on the other hand, was captivated by Y/N's strength and compassion. He had seen countless people break under the pressure of gang life, but not Y/N. She was a beacon of light in his dark world.

The bond between them grew stronger. Y/N found herself caring deeply for Mingi, worrying about him every time he stepped into the ring or out into the streets. She tried to keep her distance, to remind herself that getting involved with someone like him would only lead to heartache and danger. But every time she patched him up after a fight, every time he looked at her with those intense, soulful eyes, her resolve weakened.

Mingi, too, struggled with his feelings. He knew that his world was no place for someone like Y/N. He had seen what happened to those who got too close to the darkness. Yet, he couldn't deny the way his heart raced when she was near, the way her touch soothed not just his physical wounds, but the deeper, invisible ones too.

One fateful night, after a particularly brutal fight, Mingi stumbled into Y/N's small clinic, bleeding and battered. His left eye was swollen shut, and his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Y/N's heart clenched at the sight of him. She had seen him hurt before, but tonight was different. There was a haunted look in his eyes, a depth of pain and weariness she had never seen before.

"Sit down," she said softly, guiding him to the examination table. Mingi winced as he lowered himself, every movement a reminder of the punishment his body had taken. Y/N worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning his wounds with gentle hands. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of her ministrations and Mingi's labored breathing.

As she stitched up a particularly deep gash on his forehead, their eyes met. In that moment, all the barriers they had built crumbled. Mingi reached out and gently cupped her face with his bruised hand. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with pain and emotion, "I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way about you."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears. "Mingi, this world... it's too dangerous. For both of us."

"I know," he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "But I can't lose you. You're the only good thing in my life."

Against her better judgment, Y/N leaned into his touch. "Then let's find a way out. Together."

It wasn't going to be easy. Leaving the gang world was almost impossible, and they both knew the risks. But for the first time in a long while, Mingi felt a glimmer of hope. With Y/N by his side, he believed they could find a way to escape the shadows and build a new life, far from the violence and corruption that had defined his existence for so long.

As they started to plan their escape, the dangers became more apparent. The gang leader, a ruthless man named Jae, had eyes and ears everywhere. They would need to be careful, gathering resources and allies without drawing suspicion. Y/N used her position as Mingi's nurse to gather information discreetly, while Mingi focused on maintaining his cover, all the while training and fighting as if nothing had changed.

Nights were the hardest. As Mingi lay on his cot, he would often think about the life he wanted with Y/N. A simple life, free from the violence that had been his constant companion. He dreamed of a small house in the countryside, far away from the city's grime and crime. He dreamed of peace.

Y/N, too, found herself dreaming of a future with Mingi. She imagined waking up next to him, sharing quiet mornings and peaceful evenings. She envisioned a life where she could use her skills to help people, without the shadow of the gang looming over her.

One evening, as they sat together in Y/N's clinic, Mingi took her hand. "I've been thinking," he said quietly. "We need to make our move soon. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. "I've been saving money. It's not much, but it should be enough to get us started."

Mingi smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made Y/N's heart ache. "You're amazing," he said softly.

As they continued to plan, their bond grew even stronger. They knew the risks, but their love gave them strength. Each day brought them closer to their goal, and each night they whispered their dreams to each other, drawing comfort from the shared hope.

The night of their escape was tense and filled with anxiety. Mingi had arranged for a trusted friend to help them get out of the city. Y/N packed their few belongings, her hands shaking with nerves. Mingi held her close, whispering reassurances. "We can do this," he said firmly. "Together."

As they slipped out of the city under the cover of darkness, their hearts pounded with fear and excitement. The journey was fraught with danger, but they moved quickly and quietly, avoiding the gang's patrols and keeping to the shadows.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the outskirts of the city. As dawn broke, they found themselves on a quiet country road, far from the chaos they had left behind. Mingi looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "We made it," he said and he grabbed her from the nape of her neck to kiss her.

Y/N smiled through her tears. "Yes, we did,” she said on his lips.

#song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi #mingi imagines #song mingi imagine #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez

[acewitch-writes]

OC Fanon Remus is just an untagged AU version of him that is part giant since y'all insist on portraying him as this 6-foot-7 monstrosity with the physique of a professional bodybuilder next to his fun-sized twink boyfriend who is teeny enough to travel around in his pocket.

I will never understand how the canon description of Remus as worn, thin, shabby, half-dead looking, greying, and pallid turned into this.

#remus lupin #fanon remus #I will never stop being a hater on this topic #Do you even like Remus Lupin as a character #because the only thing your OC has in common with Remus Lupin is the name #they don't even share a physical description

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-There's no need to start tossing out every character trait if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

#writeblr #writing community #writing #writers on tumblr #for writers #writing advice #kestal #text post

[a-hazbin-reader]

Alastor and reader's wedding? What did her dress look like? How did Al react to her wallking down the isle?? PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW

I always cry at weddings 😭 😭 😭

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Possessive Alastor, FEELINGS

Description: ☝️⬆️

If you two got married when you were alive, then I imagine it was a very small and intimate ceremony

You and Alastor did a lot of the decorating yourselves, even making your own wedding cake because Alastor can BAKE

You two had a blast doing it too, turning everything into a little game and making deals over who could set things up the fastest/nicest

Winner gets a kiss from the loser

You two would likely only invite your closest friends and relatives(if you were close with your family that is)

If Alastor's mother was still alive by the time you guys got engaged then she 110% would be there(I genuinely don't remember when she died soooooo)

She would absolutely be his best man because who else would be worthy of such a position??

Happy tears from her the entire time

This woman will walk you down the aisle if she has to, she won't let you walk alone on your big day

Not Alastor holding back tears at the sight of his mother and soon to be wife walking towards him

Mimzy would also have been there, and she would've fought for her right as maid of honor, like physically fought off her competitors

You're haunted by the memory of it, actually

Absolutely sticks her nose in everything but only because she wants it to be perfect for you two

She will tear up anyone who throws a wrench in the ceremony and will run it better than she did her own club

"These floors better be SPOTLESS! If I see a single speck of dust on that dress-"

She probably insisted on paying for the wedding too

Alastor would probably have a last minute freak out at the thought that this is actually happening, he's getting married

But he wouldn't be nervous about you leaving him at the altar or anything like that, just normal wedding jitters

But he's resolute in the fact that he wants this, he wants to be your husband and share his life with you

And he definitely doesn't want anyone else thinking there's a chance they can take you from him

Alastor is positively radiating warmth and pride by the time you're walking down the aisle, blown away by how stunning you look

Whether the dress is unique, traditional or not even a wedding dress-he's amazed by just how good you look in it

It makes his mouth water

He's lowkey preening for you the entire time

It just makes everything seem more real to him, immediately reaching out to take your hands in order to keep himself grounded in reality

He actually is at a loss for words for once...

"You look really handsome..."

The sight of your happy blush brings him back, and he's pressing his forehead to yours

"And you look nearly as good as I do, my dear~"

Ass

The slight quiver in his smile, glassy eyes and tight grip on your hands gives him away though, you know what he really means

You look heavenly to him

Neither you or Alastor listen to a word the officiant says, too busy gazing lovingly at one another to pay them any mind

And you're definitely not getting distracted at the feeling of his thumbs gently caressing over your hands

When it comes to the vows, Alastor definitely puts his heart and soul into trying to make you cry at words

He's putting on a show for you but you love it ❤️

He looks smug as hell when he finishes

His gaze becomes softer as you say your own vows, smile becoming a little more gooey as you make his heart race

"And if anyone is opposed to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Not Alastor and Mimzy giving death glares to anyone who would even dare saying anything

As if you two even invited anybody who would fucking try

"You may now kiss-"

Alastor doesn't even wait for him to finish, tugging you close and kissing you deeply

And once your arms wrap around his neck then maybe the kiss gets a little too intimate

Mimzy is whistling and cheering while Alastor's mother is politely looking away from you two

You two barely pull away to breathe before he kisses you again, seemingly unable to stop

He just can't believe he's kissing his wife

That he's your husband and everyone is going to know that you're not on the market anymore

Not that you ever were before

It's an embarrassingly long time before you two stop, and you're left panting, rosy-cheeked, and weak in the knees

Alastor doesn't move his arm from your waist for the rest of the night, wanting to keep you close

The only time he does let you go is when he goes to dance with his mother or when it's your turn to dance with his mother

Not her giving you both embarrassing advice about the honeymoon and early married couple life

She wants grandkids dammit

When you two are cutting the cake, he does NOT slam a slice into your face but he does put a bit of frosting on your nose

Only to lick it off a moment later

🥵 BOI

If you do it back to him then he will be properly flustered because he was banking on the fact that you would be too shocked to react

He doesn't care about wedding gifts or anything like that but his mother's blessing means everything to him

So her approval of your marriage and you as her daughter in law just solidified how important you'll always be to him

But don't worry because Mimzy definitely made sure to hook you two up with gifts

Alastor literally can't stop kissing you afterwards, your hands, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, ect

If you return even a smidgen of that affection back to him then it'll only make him more excited for your future together

He's not even thinking of the honeymoon, he's just overwhelmed with the urge to give you affection

He just thinks about how he'll never be tired of being your husband and having you as his wife

Waking up to you, going to bed with you, cooking with you, messing with you, hell even fighting with you sounds appealing because then he can make up with you

Alastor never really thought of himself as the type to get married but you came and completely changed that with your love

Even though he was difficult and fought falling in love with you with everything he had

You fought back harder to love him

Now that he's here with you, looking at the wedding band on your finger, the loving look on your face

Your hand on his cheek gently guiding him to look into your eyes as you lean in towards him

Feeling your lips on his own as you whisper loving things against them before kissing him

He's happy you won that fight

This one was a lot of fun!! I was originally going to do two versions of this! One wedding before you two died and one for after you both were dead but then I included his mom and-

I got very carried away

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 reacts to...cheater! reader

Request made by Anon:

Hi! I just read your post about yan 1950 house husband, it's amazing. Can you write his reaction if reader cheated on him? If you don't feel comfortable with this ask, feel free to ignore this.  Remember to take care of yourself and have a nice day.

Hello to you too, dear Anon,

First of all, I must apologize but your request suddenly disappeared from my inbox! Thankfully, I have the content of your request saved in my google docs so I pasted it above. 

Putting that aside, although this topic is sensitive to some, I am fine with writing about that. 

I appreciate your words. It's very nice of you to think about little ol' me. I wish you a nice day too (even if it's not a daytime)!

Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [CHEATER!] reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied), your lovers genger isn't specified/mentioned/implied either. Don't be swayed by the curses used to describe them; Tw. cheating/indifelity from the reader, cursing, description of a m*urder, delusion (delulu is the solulu), emotional manipulation, gaslightning; A/N: As a person, I do not support this kind of behavior. This is only a piece of fiction, serving for entertaining purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Denial. Denial. Denial. At first 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 doesn’t believe it. No, he refuses to do so. You’re the most faithful and perfect partner known to the human kind. Right then, he's desperately holding on to that image. But unfortunately, evidence says otherwise. A simple photo, sent to him by your lover, secretly taken by some photographer is clearly showing you and (that whore) your lover, in some hotel room, in an intimate position. It is clear that day that you have an affair. 

“But what if my darling was forced to do this?”

That question sends him into a spiral of delusion, rage and sorrow. As a defence mechanism, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 made up a story where suddenly you were a victim in this whole situation. It was definitely your lover who has forced themselves on you. Probably blackmailed or worse, drugged you to have a taste of sweet love and burning passion you share while making love with him. 

“My poor darling…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 wailed, clenching his chest like someone was physically ripping away his still beating heart from it. Fat tears ran down his rosy cheeks, smudging his mascara and turning him into a crying mess. “I’ll avenge you, my darling. I won’t forgive what was done to you!”

He doesn’t even blink when he sends your lover into the pits of hell. There’s no hesitation when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 plans this hideous crime, making sure every detail is taken care of. And so, it begins small, like creating false and disgusting rumors about your lover. Day by day, he patiently destroys your lover's life. Until the day when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 poisons them through his signature pie and then proceeds to repeatedly stab your lover until no one is able to recognize them in the first place. 

"YOU WENCH!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 roared at the person who happened to be your lover. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" With every word he dove the sharp, kitchen knife deeper and harder into his victim's chest. "DIE!!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 yelled for the final time and knife one last time, straight in this whore heart. He was left alone in the empty and messy kitchen, covered in blood, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

In the end, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 begins to gaslight you. Once again, with the patience of a saint, he began to manipulate you to believe that it was in fact your lover who was using you all this time. You were forced into this vile affair and you are a victim. 

“My innocent darling, you mustn't think about it (them) anymore. I will make everything perfect once again.”

But isn’t it weird how he started wearing clothes that are scarily similar to those worn by your lover? Sniff…sniff…and those perfumes…

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #fanfic #x reader #imagines #yandere #headcanons #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere simulator #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #reader insert #headcanon #yandere headcanons #male x reader #soft yandere #yandere househusband #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x y/n #drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #s.<3.writes

[morallyinept]

Home - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: Joel returns home to you.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader, except that reader has hair and is prone to freckling in the sun. These are very small details briefly mentioned.)

Word Count: 1.6k

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Nothing too heavy. Some angst and longing.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I've had some terrible writer's block recently and the new season 2 Joel reveal has inspired me this evening. Thanks, Joel! 🥰

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The swing hangs at one end of the rickety porch, a timeless piece that has seen many seasons and heard many secrets in your time here in the Jackson commune.

Crafted from sturdy oak, it’s varnished and smooth in places when you run your fingers over the armrests that curve gracefully at each end.

You remember his own fingers gliding over the wood as he sanded it, splintered and calloused, and yet strangely soft in the middle of his large palms when you’d rubbed cooling aloe salve into them after, whilst he'd planted a line of tantalising kisses on your shoulder and remarked on how freckled you’d gotten in the sun that afternoon.

You don't remember much else after that as his kisses had engulfed you wholly.

The thoughts cause splinters in your stomach lining and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing them not to creep into the jagged fissures of your hollowed bones. But it’s futile. The memories of him are everywhere you look.

Your gaze drifts to the haphazard wooden flower boxes, overflowing with vibrant blooms and herbs.

It was Joel who had planted them, his hands deftly tending to each delicate stem, leaf and petal as if they were his own children.

You can picture him kneeling beside the boxes, soil dusted over his denim clad thighs, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully watered each plant.

You think about the bed you climb into each night, noting the void in the space beside you where Joel's warmth and his presence once lingered. You can almost see the imprint of his broad body on the mattress, the indentation where he'd slept night after night with you curled into his body, leg resting over his hip.

You can still feel the heat from him as you'd wake in the night to find him practically draped over you.

The seat on the swing is wide and deep, designed for comfort and for sharing, for cuddling together on warm, balmy nights under the fraying, knitted blanket with wonky stitch lines.

You still hold it up to your nose, inhaling the last ebbs of his scent that haven’t been blown out the fibres fully by the breeze. But it’s fading fast and you’re worried that one day it’ll be gone forever, just like he is.

Strung along the railing and woven through the latticework, tiny lights glimmer around you like a thousand stars brought down to earth on glittery strings. Each delicate bulb emits a soft, warm glow, creating a cascade of golden light that flickers gently with the whispers of the night.

The cushions you’re sitting against, plump and inviting, have seen their share of tears. You’ve clung to them during sleepless nights, seeking the comfort they no longer fully provide. The smaller pillows, in warm tones of orange and gold, have been hugged so close to your chest as if they can somehow bridge the chasm of his absence.

The muted hues on the porch that echo the colours of the forest surrounding your home beyond the fences, mirror your fading hope, each day a little dimmer than the last.

You tell yourself that perhaps tonight will be the night, that he’ll emerge from the shadows like an ethereal spectre back to you, but you know, somewhere in your heart that’s been broken beyond full repair, that it’s wishful thinking. A dream with its shiny ribboned tether drifting so close, yet so far out of your reach.

You’ve often found yourself on the empty porch, night upon night, your heart heavy with the belief that he’ll return. Waiting... always waiting.

They've stopped coming now, stopped checking in on you. Stopped bringing baked goods, like they do when someone passes away. Leaving you to wilt and exist in your own bubble of enduring sadness and melancholy.

They said you should move on, like it's an easy thing to do. And a small part of you thinks that perhaps you should at least try. It's been too long.

You’d heard the rumours, whispers in the commune, of the men and women who never make it back, of the dangers that swallow them whole out there - even the strongest aren’t immune.

Joel, like many in the commune, had volunteered for supply runs, journeys that had become increasingly dangerous. The surrounding areas fraught with peril - raiders, infected, treacherous terrain, and unpredictable weather. Every time someone leaves for a run, there’s no guarantee they'll return.

You knew this. You knew the risk. So did Joel. The supply runs are a lifeline for the community, but they come with a heavy cost. Each departure is shadowed by uncertainty, each return a fleeting relief.

When Joel didn’t come back from his last run, the fear that had always lingered at the edge of your mind about him embarking on them, consumed you whole.

You knew the risks he faced, had heard the stories of those who never made it back from his own weary lips of close calls, and had seen the grief in the eyes of others in the commune who had lost their loved ones.

You were one of them now.

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and the silence grew louder. Every creak of the porch, every rustle of leaves heightened your anxiety, making your heart race with the hope that it might be him, only to be crushed by the realisation that it wasn’t.

It never was.

Your nights were spent waiting on the porch swing that Joel built for you both to spend balmy nights in the summer drinking tangy lemonade and being cuddled up in his strong arms.

And he isn’t here doing that with you anymore and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to move on, or accept it.

You try to hold onto the minute flicker of hope that remains, but it’s fading fast, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of loss and the fear of what the future might hold without him.

Each day without word, each night without his voice, has chipped away at your hope leaving you empty and lost.

Tonight is no different; and when you find yourself dozing into the late night on the swing in a routine you can't seem to break, the cool breeze stirring you awake, you resolve to go to bed and spend another night alone reaching out longingly to his side of the mattress, wondering where he is.

You stand to go inside, shaking off the blanket, and a flicker of movement catches your eye through the shadows and startles you.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat when you hear your name called softly.

You visibly pinch yourself, the sharp pain registering that you’re not dreaming.

There he is, standing where he used to stand, the same but different. His silhouette is a familiar yet foreign sight, the longer hair and the weary lines on his face telling stories of the time and trials he’s endured out there.

Your heart pounds as a flood of emotions surge through you - disbelief, hope, anger, relief.

Your hands are trembling. Your heart is hammering so loudly now that you can't hear yourself think or even call out his name on a broken chord. Your legs barely support your weight, and for a moment you feel time stop completely, it's drag heavy agaisnt your skin.

Joel stands at the edge of the porch, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a gentle light on his familiar face. His hair, longer and wilder than when he left, brushes against the top of his shoulders in swept back curls, seeming more grey and dishevelled.

The breeze seems to whisper through it as if sharing foreboding secrets from his time away. He looks different, weathered and sunken in his stature. And you're harshly reminded that it’s been over a year since he’d walked away from this home, from you.

"You're back," you whisper, your voice breaking as tears stream down your cheeks.

He steps tentatively up on the porch, a low groaning creak rumbles out from under his boot.

You resolve crumbles, and you rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

He holds you tightly, his own tears mingling with yours.

The pain of the past year, the nights you cried yourself to sleep, the days filled with endless worry, all dissolve in the warmth of his tight embrace, and your heartbeats meld together as one under the gloaming lights around you.

Your fingers grip into the rough material of his jacket, and you inhale deep. He smells earthy, like the fragrance of fresh rain on dry earth. It carries with it the essence of the forest, of pine needles and damp soil, mingling with the crispness of skeletal autumn leaves.

"I thought you were dead," you sob into his shoulder, the words releasing a year's worth of grief and longing.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice choked with guilt. "I never stopped tryin’ to get back to ya."

His words carry the warmth of the Southern sun, the gentle drawl of his accent wrapping around the ruggedness of his tincture giving it a raw, unfiltered quality. It’s a voice that speaks of home and belonging, of wide-open spaces and endless horizons. Of survival and repentance.

It’s a reminder that he’s real, that he’s here, standing before you, alive and well. And yet strangely frail; wounded deeply by the experience of the outside world.

And as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his roughened cheek peppered with his greying beard, you know in that moment that Joel is truly home.

“What happened to you, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened out there?” You fire off clumsily, your voice shaky and breathless until Joel simply looks at you with those molten, sad brown eyes and you finally breathe.

"I'm okay, I ain’t hurt," he replies softly, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes never leave yours.

“I thought I'd lost you,” your voice is nothing more than a croaked whimper. “You’re really here?” You question dreamily, sinking back into his arms.

"M'here."

As you stand together on the porch, bathed in the gentle glow of the fairy lights, you finally feel a sense of peace wash over you.

And almost as if he can sense your bewilderment, your fear and frustration - your relief - Joel runs his hand through your hair, caressing your skull and cradles you closer into his chest. Alleviating your fears and confirming the unwavering truth presented to you, that he is in fact here. He’s home.

"M’home, darlin’."

Joel Miller has come back home to you.

Thank so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story. If you did, I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #jett's writing

[watermelonlovershigh]

another sickfic/period prompt.. living together as friends/housemates and H finds her on the floor in the night feeling really sick from her period and sits with her + helps her out 🥲 changes her sheets for her, rubs her back and just holds her on the floor with a blanket round them. she's absolutely mortified with no choice but to be accepting of his help and all he wants to do is make her feel a little better :(

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: thank you for this request. it's not exactly as the request said but i hope it's close enough. and i normally don't write harry as anything other than y/n's lover but made an exception with this story. please share your feedback with me and let me know how you liked it. enjoy. xoxoxoxo

This story contains: small period leak, severe period cramping, puking due to period cramps, crying due to pain and embarrassment, mentions of sex toys, comfort, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friend!harry - softrry - any harry era - au!harry }

word count- 1,956

You wake up in the middle of the night with severe period cramps and when your housemate and friend Harry happens to wake up for a glass of water, he sees you on the bathroom floor crying and has no choice but to be by your side and comfort you.

You were looking to be someones flatmate or housemate. You'd put offer after offer online and one day a guy named Harry accepted your offer. He had a pretty nice townhouse in London and from his brief description of himself, seemed to be an alright guy. You didn't want to move in with some lazy scumbag and you'd come to find Harry is the opposite of that.

He's probably the cleanest guy you've ever met. He enjoys keeping things organized and loves to keep the house smelling fresh with candles on every shelf and table. And you get along quite nicely. You'd even go as far to say over the six months of living in his townhouse that you've become friends.

Doing things friends do such as order take-out food together, watch movies on the couch, paint each others nails, share juicy details about your love lives (or lack thereof). Harry is a very fun guy to be around and if you're being honest with yourself, you'd say you've developed a slight crush on him. I mean how could you not? He has nearly all the characteristics of what every woman's ideal man would have. Physical characteristics and things through the actions he does.

Now even though you've became great friends over the six months of living here, there is still stuff you try to keep private. For instance, your periods. Harry's not dumb and obviously knows you get a period. Mainly from seeing your sanitary products under the bathroom sink or in the bin by the toilet. You don't try to keep your periods a secret, just private.

And though Harry knows you get periods, as do most females, he has yet to see the bad side of your periods. The periods that make you sob on the bathroom floor from the amount of pain your cramps are causing. The periods that make you nausous and throw up. Luckily those periods aren't a monthly thing but they do happen a few times a year for whatever reason and it sucks.

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

Late last night as you and Harry were watching a movie on his sofa, you began to feel crampy in your lower stomach. You asked if he could pause the film while you went to the bathroom down the hall and he agreed. And that's when you realized your period had came and you'd leaked. It's not a bad leak but it's enough for you to need to change your underwear and your shorts. Which the shorts barely had any blood on them but still called for a fresh pair.

Once you got yourself situated, you returned to the living room where the first thing Harry commented on is your changed clothes. "Did you change your shorts or somethin'?"

Quickly, you answered, "Yeah, my period started and I kinda leaked. Okay, you can press play on the movie."

Harry nodded sympathetically but followed your orders. He would have said something else to try and comfort you but knew you prefered to keep your periods more private. He doesn't understand why though. All women get periods. It's not something you should be ashamed of and he wished you'd understand that.

Now it's four in the morning and you're woken up to what feels like the worst period cramps of your whole life. Fuck, you scream in your head, it's gonna be one of those months. The longer you lay in bed the more nausous you began to feel from how painful your cramps are and that leads to you stumbling out of bed and rushing to the bathroom down the hall.

After what felt like an eternity, you made it to the bathroom and literally crawled on the floor over to the toilet. Now that you're in the bathroom you feel less nauseous but the pain is still in full force. That's when the tears start flowing. With your back against the wall and your knees up to your chest, sobs roll out your body as you fight against the waves of your uterus contracting to release its lining.

Harry is a heavy sleeper and usually don't wake up unless someone outwardly calls his name or pushes him awake. What wakes him up right now though is a dry mouth and a craving for a glass of water. So he gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen. But before he can even make it to the kitchen, he hears what sounds like crying coming from the hall bathroom.

Rushing over to the bathroom door, the sight before him breaks his heart. You didn't have the strength to shut the door so from the hall, Harry sees you sobbing in front of the toilet, back against the wall, and a hand clutching your stomach. "Oh, Y/n," he steps inside, "what's the matter?"

You slowly lift your head and the first thought in your mind was you didn't want him to see you like this. This was too embarrassing and you were too vulnerable at the moment. "Harry, go. Don't look at me."

Taken back by your words, Harry retorts in concern, "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Are you sick? Why're cryin'?"

Realising it's no use to deny your housemates help in your condition, you answer through the pain and tears, "My.....my cramps are SO bad. It hurts so much, H...Harry. *sob* It's making me feel so sick."

Harry frowns sympathetically and kneels down beside you in just his boxer briefs, which is his usual sleep attire. He would have covered up a bit more if he'd known this is what he was going to be walking into on his trip for a glass of water. As soon as he kneels down, you get the real urge to puke.

You push yourself off the wall and hang your head over the toilet. A harsh dry heave leaves your mouth that makes him cringe but nothing more, yet. Harry quickly scoots behind you and collects your hair with one hand and runs his other hand over your back. He doesn't know if you want to be touched right now but knows that when he's getting sick he finds that if someone rubs on his back it makes him feel a little better.

"Shhh," Harry whispers gently, "it's okay. You're okay. I've got you." He patiently waits until your feel better or actually get sick. After a few more jarring dry heaves, you end up throwing up in the toilet. And though the act feels like hell and is gross, you hope it will also relive the sickness your belly feels due to your period cramps.

You slowly lift your head up, taking deep breaths, and start crying again. This time not from the pain but from embarrassment. Harry's quick to ask, "Hey, what is it, Y/n? The cramps again?"

A little more coherently then the last time you spoke, you answer, "No. Just embarrassed. I threw up in front of you." That has Harry throwing his head back with a laugh.

"Y/n, I don't give a single fuck about you throwing up in front of me. Everyone gets sick from time to time. Just want to make sure you're alright. I hate that your period cramps are causin' you so much pain."

While subconsciously rubbing circles in your lower tummy, you ask desperately in a near whispered voice, "H, can you please go get me some pain medicine. It's in my bedside table drawer in my bedroom. Once I have that I think I'll feel better. At least for a couple of hours."

"Of course." Harry agrees and gets up off the bathroom floor to head to your bedroom. Once inside, he walks straight to your bedside table and opens the drawer to find your bottle of pain medication. While rummaging through to find the bottle, Harry tries to ignore the assortment of sex toys you have in there; bullet vibrator, dildo, clit sucker. Shit, this is the wrong time for him to get all hot and flustered at the thought of you using those under his roof.

He finally finds the bottle of pills and heads back to the bathroom where you still are. Within the time it took him to grab your medicine, you've stood up off the floor, flushed the toilet of course, and now sit on a closed toilet seat. Harry opens the bottle and asks, "How many? One or Two or....?"

"Two please." Harry hands you two tablets and grabs a paper cup used for rinsing your mouths out by the sink and fills it up with tap water. You carefully grab the small cup from his hands and take the pills with urgency, just wanting to be out of pain as soon as possible.

Once that's over with, Harry annonces, "Well, I'll let you get cleaned up in here and I'll be out there waiting for you."

"Okay, thank you." you respond gratefully. Harry really is the best housemate you could have asked for. While he's gone, you change out your tampon and brush the taste of vomit from your mouth. Then you exit the hall bathroom, ready to try and get a few more hours of sleep.

As you step inside your bedroom, you're taken back. Harry has managed to change your sheets and duvet, claiming a fresh pair will help you relax and hopefully sleep better. He's also set an actual glass of water on your nightstand, as well as plugged in his heating pad for you to use. "Harry....... what's all this?"

Nervously, because he doesn't know if this is all too much to do to someone who is just his housemate and friend, Harry replies, "Um, just wanted to make sure you come back to a comfy room. Hopefully you'll get a few more hours of sleep. And if you get thirsty or need to take more medicine, there's a glass of water there. Then my old heating pad that you can use across your tummy to also help with your cramps. Hope it's not too much."

You turn around with a small smile on your face and reach out to hug him. He's startled at first but soon relaxes and hugs you back. You hug for a minute before you break away first and mutter your appreciation. "No, this is great, Harry. Not too much at all. Thank you for your kindness tonight. And thank you for putting up with me in the bathroom. I know that wasn't a pretty sight. So yeah, just, thank you so much."

Looking down at you, Harry gets the urge to kiss you, but instead, says, "Y/n, it's no big deal, really. I would have helped anyone in that situation. Just want you to feel better s'all. Now get back into bed and around ten I'll wake up and make us a brunch. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds perfect." You crawl back into your bed that now has fresh sheets and maneuver the heating pad over your tummy. The pain medicine has begun to work but your uterus is still quite achy. As Harry turns around and heads out your door, you yell out, "Night." even though it's five in the morning by now.

"Night, Y/n." Harry speaks as well before slipping back into his bed across the hall. Now laying in your separate beds, all you can think about is how much you would have loved if Harry was in your bed cuddling you. And all Harry can think about is how much he wishes you were in his bed, so he could cuddle you. Maybe one day that day will come. But for now, you're just silly housemates that's turned into friends.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic rec #housemate!harry #housematerry #friend!harry #friendrry #soft!harry #softrry #harry styles x reader #harry styles period comfort #period comfort #harry styles sick fic #sick fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #one shot #blurb

[writingquestionsanswered]

Someone mentioned that main characters can get overdeveloped. I'm familiar with characters being underdeveloped, but how do you tell if they are overdeveloped?

5 Signs Your Character is Overdeveloped

#1 - You spend time illustrating personality traits that aren't important to the story. Your character's personality traits should have some bearing on how they move through the story. Don't take the time to illustrate your character's stubbornness if being stubborn won't have some impact on the story.

#2 - You excessively describe their physical appearance and what they're wearing. While it's a good idea to give the reader a sense of what the character looks like and to describe what they're wearing when it shows something important about the character, world, or situation, the reader doesn't need an in-depth physical description--or even reminders--every time the character appears on the page.

#3 - You spend a lot of time illustrating their interactions and relationships with minor characters even though they have no bearing on the story. We like our characters to feel real and three-dimensional, which means giving the reader a sense of who they are, what their normal life is like, and who is important to them. However, we don't want to spend a lot of time on characters/relationships that don't really do anything for the story. For example, it's nice that your character has a good relationship with their elderly neighbor, but if the relationship isn't necessary to show us who the character is, set up or execute a plot point, or fulfill a thematic/symbolic role, it probably shouldn't be there.

#4 - Your character is a "jack of all trades." It's great for your character to have hobbies, skills, and experience in various things, but we don't want our characters to look like a walking, talking, padded resume. For the most part, any hobby, skill, or experience highlighted should play an important role in the story. If being proficient at roller skating doesn't tell us something about the character we can't learn another way, allow for the setup or execution of a plot point, or fulfill a thematic/symbolic role, it's probably not important to highlight that hobby, skill, or experience--or any other that doesn't contribute to the story.

#5 - You spend a lot of time on unnecessary backstory - Backstory plays an important role in helping us to understand who the character is, how they got to where they are in life, what things led up to their internal conflict and emotional wound/s, etc. However, we don't want to spend time on things that aren't ultimately important to the story in some way. For example, there's no point in flashing back to your character's week at surfing camp if nothing happened that week that is important to who they are or anything else that happens in the story.

A good rule of thumb for really any detail in a story is to ask yourself, "What is lost if I remove this detail?" If the answer is "nothing," you can probably go ahead and remove it. :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

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[c-nstantine]

Strangers From the Club

Description: Jason and Roy take the reader home and sexcapades ensue

Warnings: badly written smut, cursing, p in v, male and female recieving oral, reader is black as always, also Jason and Roy are roommates

Word Count: 2.4k

Clubbing in Gotham was either the best thing in the world or the riskiest thing that a single woman could do. That's why Y/N came out with her best friend. The buddy system had never failed them before. There they sat in the corner of the dark club, sipping some watered-down and overpriced cocktail.

"I think those two guys are watching you, "Her friend noted a tall ginger with tattoos and a taller dark-haired man from across the club.

"They're not," Y/N tightened the ponytail of her box braids that were in a half-up half-down style. Y/N knew she was attractive but to attract two men who looked like they stepped right out of Gotham Times? That'd be something new.

"They are," Her friend reached over and adjusted the cleavage of Y/N's dress before smiling and being pleased with her work. The dress was already out of Y/N's comfort zone because of it being short, low cut, and sequined. However, the silver sequins only made her more desirable under the strobe lights.

"No, they're not," She wrongly assured her friend.

"They're coming this way! Have some fun tonight," Her friend slid out of the booth and disappeared into the dancefloor with a wink. Y/N swore she was gonna get her back for this.

"Hi, beautiful. I'm Roy, and this is Jason," The ginger named 'Roy' slid on one side of her while Jason slid on the other. Roy's arm was wrapped around her but his energy was so inviting that she didn't mind him touching her.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," She smiled softly at the two men, still feeling a bit unsure about what would happen next.

"See, Jason and I had a little bet going on which one of us was more your type." Roy started while looking into her eyes. His green eyes were so inviting and friendly, that she couldn't help but be trapped in his stare.

"Winner gets to try and take you home for an 'eventful' evening with your permission, of course," Jason spoke for the first time and winked at her.

"I don't think I could choose," She said looking back and forth between the two men. Roy had a certain charm to him that made him appealing but Jason had a mystery about his aura that left her wanting more. As for physical appearance, both of the men were not lacking in that department. Jason was clean-shaven with jet-black hair that was dangerously close to his eyes. He wore a jacket but she could tell his muscles were aching to be free. Roy had a bit of stubble growing in and had a mop of red hair that was cut into a mullet. Unlike Jason, Roy wore a short-sleeved shirt that didn't conceal his muscles or his tattoos.

"Oh, that's fine. We don't mind sharing, do we, Jason?" Roy's eyes never left Y/N's face.

"Not at all," Jason agreed with Roy while putting one hand on Y/N's bare thigh.

"So, sweetheart, do you wanna have some fun with us?" Roy asked her with a small smirk as if he already knew the answer. She could only nod, her throat and mouth suddenly dry.

"Use your words," Jason chided her as he turned her chin towards him.

"Yes," She said a little too excitedly.

"Good girl," Jason whispered into her ear before leading her out of the club. The three of them took a brisk walk to a car that Jason owned. He was in the driver's seat while Y/N and Roy took to the back. It was only a few more moments later before Roy placed a kiss on her shoulder, then her neck, her jaw, and her cheek before finally hitting her mouth. His tongue prodded along her lips before she opened up.

Roy wanted to take it slow so he didn't spook her but she was so damn tempting. Before he knew it, his hand was creeping up her thigh. She spread her legs slightly to give him better access. He smirked before pulling away from her mouth. He helped her slip out of her panties before tossing them up towards Jason, who was eyeing them in the rearview mirror. One of his hands was on the wheel while the other was palming the tent pitching in his pants.

Y/N was in complete bliss while Roy's fingers continued to trail up her thigh. She gasped as he pressed against her wet heat. His fingers played with the outer lips of her pussy before skillfully dodging her clit. A small whimper fell from her lips as she caught Jason's eye in the review mirror.

"What about him?" She practically panted.

"It's okay, he likes to watch," Roy reassured her before pressing another kiss to the side of her head. He pried her legs open as wide as he could in the back of Jason's car.

"This wet already? It's like you were made for us," He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of her. He was sure she was dripping onto Jason's seats at this point but he didn't care. Roy added another finger and her pussy clenched around him as he found his rhythm. It didn't help that it felt like Jason was purposely hitting every pothole in Gotham.

"How many can you take? Three? Or Four?" Roy slipped four fingers into her tight pussy, pumping them in and out while his thumb massaged her clit. He could tell she was going to fall apart any second. His fingers began to do a curling motion against her g-spot and she knew she was done for.

"I'm gonna-" She could barely get anything out before her pussy began to spasm around his fingers. This didn't stop Roy. He continued to stroke in and out of her pussy removing one finger at a time.

"That's it, baby, cum around my fingers," He whispered as Y/N's breathing slowed. She felt like she was floating on cloud nine but it was interrupted by feeling the car be put in park.

"We're here," Jason smirked as he noticed how fucked out Y/N looked and this was only the beginning.

"Jay, you wanna taste?" Roy offered his hand which was still covered in pussy juice to his best friend.

"Hot," Y/N mumbled as she watched Jason take Roy's fingers into his mouth. The three of them managed to stumble out of the car without committing any more public indecency. Well, Y/N had to hold down her dress but Roy was insistent that if her pussy was exposed, he'd immediately get on his knees and eat her out.

"Who's apartment is this?" She asked after Jason unlocked the door to the large condo. It was surprisingly well decorated but it looked like men had lived there.

"Ours," Jason said tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his arms. She was right his biceps were bulging. To be trapped under those, she thought to herself.

"Are the two of you dating?" She asked noticing the shared pictures of them on the walls. Some had other people in them but it was usually one of them.

"We're just roommates with the same taste in women," Roy explained before walking towards her. She walked back until she hit the counter of the kitchen. Roy smiled down on her as he lifted her so she sat on the counter.

"Oh," There was a small gap in between them before Roy kissed her again. She felt like her breath was being taken away. It wasn't long before Roy broke the kiss and disappeared down a hallway. Y/N's eyes followed him before her view was blocked by Jason.

"Hi, princess. I wanna taste you s'more. That okay?" Jason tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him.

"Mhm," Y/N couldn't formulate words at the moment, not with what was about to happen.

If Y/N were to imagine heaven, she would think that it would consist of Jason's mouth on her pussy. His hands were relaxed behind his back and only his tongue was working. She swore that if she focused enough then she could feel him spelling out something but she wasn't sure what.

If Jason were to imagine heaven, it would be Y/N's pussy. The taste of her that he had in the car wasn't enough. He needed more. He didn't care about how much of a mess her wetness was making across his chin and face. No, no, she tasted too good for that. The sloppy slurping sounds hid her moans but Jason could feel her thighs straining to stay open.

"Jason, please," She moaned as her hands tangled in his hair. She pulled him closer to her aching pussy. Her hips subtly grinding on his face as she tried to chase her high. Jason was nothing, if not a people pleaser, so he let her cum on his face before carrying her to his bedroom where Roy was waiting.

"Take your dress off, baby," Roy said as he crawled next to her on the bed. In one fell swish, the dress was off of her and she was completely naked. Feeling slightly more sober than before she reached to cover her chest but Roy stopped her. He crawled on top of her and lowered his head to take one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. Her hands flew to his hair while he was holding her waist.

"Who do you want first? Me or Roy?" Jason asked stroking her face softly. Roy's tongue flicked her nipple with a pleasing smile.

"Roy," She moaned.

"You heard the lady," Jason nodded as he removed his shirt. He took a seat in the chair across the room. When his pants and boxers lowered, his cock sprang free.

Roy quickly relieved himself of his jeans and briefs. He grabbed a condom from his back pocket and put it on his already hard dick. His dick was pale at the base but his tip was red and dripping with precum. He wasn't sure how long he'd last because he had been hard since he fingered her in the backseat of the car. He carefully rubbed his cock's head between her folds before he began to push into her.

"Fuckin' hell," He muttered as he slid into her inch by inch. He wasn't bigger than Jason but his thickness would stretch her out like never before.

"S'not gonna fit," She whined as her back arched off of the bed ever so slightly. Roy just leaned down and kissed her once more. While she was distracted, he used this opportunity to fully sink into her.

She moaned into his mouth. His strokes were a bit sloppy but he managed to hit her G-spot every time. Jason sat in the corner watching and stroking his dick. From his angle, he could see her reaction to every stroke and movement by Roy. Her moans filled the room along with the sound of slapping skin.

Roy held onto her waist tightly as he pummeled into her. Her walls gushed and squeezed around him with every movement. He knew she was close to finishing when her legs locked around his back. He threw his weight behind him and began to push down on her stomach slightly.

"C'mon and cum pretty girl," Jason spoke from the corner. His hand was pumping faster than before. His stomach felt tight but he wanted to cum with them. Roy drew more moans out from her and nearly came as soon as her pussy fluttered around him as she came. Jason moaned as he came on his stomach. He wiped the sticky fluid onto his fingers and walked over to put it in her mouth.

"You're doing so good for us," Jason said as she sucked his cum from his fingers. Roy chuckled a little as he sat near the top of the bed. Y/N was still taking deep breaths as Jason stood at the edge of the bed.

"On your stomach," Jason tapped her thigh and she did as instructed. He placed a light smack to her bottom before lifting her hips and helping her arch back just like he wanted her to.

"Open up," Y/N looked up to see Roy's cock still hard even after cumming. She began slowly by teasing the head of his dick by licking his mushroom tip. Roy's face flushed red as she took into his mouth.

"Shit," Jason grunted softly as he pushed his cock into her. Y/N gagged on Roy's dick from the pressure building at the bottom of her belly. Roy kept one hand at the top of her head, slowly guiding her up and down until she got used to his size in her mouth.

If Y/N had thought that Roy was big, then she couldn't describe the words of Jason tearing her pussy apart. Every stroke felt as if he was just shy of kissing her cervix. His girth alone made her think about how she would struggle to walk in the morning.

"Mouth feels like heaven," Roy spoke as Y/N moaned around his dick. He wasn't gonna last long nor did he care.

"You wanna swallow?" Roy lifted her mouth off of his dick so she could answer. All she could do was nod from Jason's mind-numbing backshots. Roy held her down the full length of his cock so that she could swallow his nut. The warm fluid flowed down her throat with only a little spilling out of her mouth. Jason was getting close to cumming and he pushed and drove her further into the mattress. Y/N held onto Roy's thighs for stability as Jason completely wrecked her pussy. He felt her cum around his cock and gave a few more strokes before cumming himself. He smacked her ass one more time as her body fell limp onto the bed.

"Bathtub?" Roy asked while looking at a very fucked out Y/N. The bathtub would be the place for everyone to get cleaned before turning in for the night. Maybe even squeeze in one more round if Y/N was willing.

"Bathtub." Jason agreed.

taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x black!reader #roy harper x reader #roy harper x black!reader #jason todd x reader x roy harper #jason todd smut #roy harper smut

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 15) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 5.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Some Body Insecurity (Pregnancy Related); Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake work on your relationship. Jake is officially promoted to Lieutenant Commander

Series Master List

Master List

After you moved back into your apartment with Jake, the two of you spent the next week focusing on your relationship.

While the two of you weren't strangers, there was still plenty of relationship moments that you had skipped over before and after you got pregnant. And now was the time to figure all of that out before the baby came.

You talked about the past. Jake explained the steps that he took after he left home to protect himself and now, by extension, you and your daughter. He had already been to see lawyers in the past about protecting his assets and what money was legally his and what money was legally his parents' money.

You told him more stories about your parents and about how their lives impacted how you viewed raising your own child. About the safeguards that you wanted in place to protect either one of you. And to especially protect your child. Jake updated his will to ensure that everything he had went you and the baby. And you were in the process of updating your own when one slightly contentious subject popped up.

Who would be entrusted with your child if something happened to both of you.

It was a subject that you brought up initially, playing off your own fears from your own childhood. Jake echoed your concerns and shared your desire to have it all down in writing.

But the question remained: who were you going to ask?

“You want it to be your brother?” Jake guessed, resting his arms on his thighs.

“And you want it to be Javy?” you returned softly.

You stared over at Jake from the couch. Your arm was lazily draped over your bump as you lounged around in Jake’s shirt and a pair of your boy shorts.

“I would feel more comfortable with Javy, yeah, but this isn’t just about me.”

“Or me,” you agreed, sitting up. “We have to pick someone that we both agree on.” You leaned back and rested your hands on your bump, looking at Jake through your eyelashes. “Why do you want Javy and Nat?”

“Javy’s the only person—besides you and the baby—that I consider to be my family. And I trust both of them with my life. And I'd trust our child with them too.” Jake paused for a moment before asking, “Why do you want your brother?”

“Well, he’s the last biological family that I have left. And Emma and I are really close. And I know that they want to have their own family one day. Bradley can tell the baby stories from our childhoods and our parents.” You shared a look with Jake before continuing, “And I trust Javy and Nat with my life too, but I’m worried that with both of them being in the Navy and neither of them expressing an interest in leaving it or having kids, that our baby wouldn’t fit into their lives.”

Jake didn’t disagree with any of your points, but it didn’t change how he really felt about your preference. Even though he and Bradley had a chat after your and Jake’s fight where Bradley apologized to him, they weren’t best friends. There was still distrust on both sides, and Jake was worried that if the baby went to Bradley and Emma, then he'd be written out of the storyline.

And he knew that Javy and Nat would never do that to you.

“But I know that you and Bradley don’t have the best relationship,” you replied softly, careful with your words. “And I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a choice in this decision. This is your baby too and we need to agree on a couple.”

“I don’t feel that I don't have a choice,” Jake assured you, causing you to nod. “It’s just . . . there’s some thinking to do.”

“We don’t have to decide today,” you stated, slowly getting to your feet. Resting a hand on your back, you walked over to Jake, who automatically placed his hand on the curve of your bump. “I think that I’m going to shower and get dressed for lunch. I feel all gross and sweaty after this morning.”

“Do you need help?”

“If you want, but no funny business,” you warned him.

You bumped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, causing Jake to grin, remembering the last shower that you took together.

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~~

“You know that I can still drive, right?” you reminded Jake as he drove to Penny's house.

“I know, but I like driving you around. It makes me feel like I’m doing something for the two of you,” Jake replied, making you swoon a bit. “And besides, you have more space over there.”

"Alright," you agreed as Jake threaded his fingers through your own. "But after your promotion ceremony, I can drive home so that you can actually enjoy it."

"We'll see how it goes," Jake replied as you neared Penny's house.

Jake parked on the street and the two of you walked together around the house. It was the first family event since your and Jake's fight and you were hoping that it went well. At least, better than the last few had gone. Giving Jake's hand a squeeze, you called out to your family, who were seated around the lawn furniture.

“There they are,” Penny stated, standing up from her seat and moving to greet the two of you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sweaty,” you joked, accepting Penny’s hug. “Thanks for having us.”

“Don’t even start with that. You know that you’re always welcome here. You too, Jake,” Penny stated, offering him a quick hug too. She took the plate of sweets that you baked before ushering you over. “Come and sit. Dinner’s almost done.”

You and Jake took your seats on the couch beside Emma, who greeted you both with a kind smile. While the two of you chatted about your weeks, Maverick walked over to you and Jake.

"How's the little birdie?" Maverick asked, referring to your child.

"Getting more active," you replied, accepted Maverick's hug and the bottle of water with a thankful smile.

"And you ready for your promotion, Jake?" Maverick questioned, handing him a beer.

"I guess," Jake replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not really much else to do except show up at this point."

"Yeah, I always found that the week after always ended up being more stressful than the week before it. Because then it all sinks in," Maverick stated, taking a sip of his beer and raising an eyebrow when he caught your look. "What?"

Bradley called out that all of the grilled items were done, and everyone got up to make their plates. The six of you ate in relative peace. There was still some tension there. Bradley and Jake were actively avoiding each other, but it was better than glaring at each other, so you would take it. As Emma told you about a wedding invite that she received from someone that you knew from college, Amelia came running down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked, standing up from her seat.

“My driving instructor cancelled,” Amelia stated, causing Penny to sigh and lower her head. “I’m not going to pass my test, Mom!”

“Amelia, you’ll be fine.”

“You won’t even let me drive to the bar, Mom,” Amelia replied, staring her mother down. “And I don’t think Rooster’s going to come driving with me again.”

“If you give me time to drink four more beers—”

“—Bradley,” Emma admonished, nudging her husband in the side. “She’s learning.”

“She hit the mailbox. Three, actually.”

“And you won’t let Mav teach me,” Amelia reminded her mother, folding her arms over her chest.

“For a reason,” Penny stated firmly.

“Mav taught me how to drive when I was her age,” you spoke up, reaching for your water. "And I turned out fine. I'm sure that she'll be perfectly safe with him, Penny."

“I can teach her,” Jake offered as soon as you finished talking, causing everyone to turn to him. He added, “But only if that’s okay with you, Penny.”

“Yeah, my test is in three weeks,” Amelia agreed, turning to her mom. “I need to practice.”

“Alright, fine,” Penny consented after a few moments of thought. “But no speeding. And don’t hit anything this time. Please.”

“Thanks for offering to teach her how to drive,” you told Jake, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“No, I felt like I should,” he replied, squeezing your knee before getting up from his seat.

“Like you . . .?” you trailed off, running through the last few seconds of the conversation in your head. “Jake?”

“Hmm?” he asked, turning around after Amelia handed him the keys.

“Are you calling me a bad driver?” you asked him, frowning when you saw how his expression changed at your question. Now offended, you pressed, “Jake?”

“You did hit the garage,” Bradley reminded you, taking a long sip of his beer.

“Shut up, Bradley,” you told your brother before turning back to your boyfriend, who was quickly walking away from you with Amelia in tow. “Jake Seresin!”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the waves!” Jake called back, motioning to his ears as he and Amelia walked around the corner of the house. “I love you!”

Huffing, you sat back in your seat, folding your arms over your chest and pouted a bit. Rooster snickered to himself, earning a sharp look from you.

“Yeah, laugh it up, you big chicken. You stole the neighbor’s Playboy magazines and let Mav take the fall for it.”

And that got him to shut up.

“So, you guys are using the ‘l’ word with each other now?” Emma asked you, causing your frustration to leave your system.

“Yeah, we are,” you replied softly, a bit bashfully.

“So, everything’s patched up?” Maverick asked with an edge of parental concern.

"We're working through everything together," you stated, rubbing your bump with your thumbs. "And we've been doing a lot of planning for the future together. Wills, joint checking accounts, loan applications."

"All good steps," Penny told you with a supportive smile.

"So, you guys are looking at houses now?" Emma questioned, causing you to smile and nod.

"I'm hoping to get one in your neighborhood. So that our kids can go to school together," you admitted, causing Emma to beam. "But we'll see what we can find."

"We'll keep an eye out for any signs in our neighborhood."

"Thanks."

"So, you guys are buying a house together and doing all of these other things together," Rooster trailed off, sharing a look with his wife before asking, "Are you guys getting married then?"

"We've talked about it," you admitted quietly, glancing over at Penny and Maverick.

"And?"

"And when it happens, it happens," you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. "I mean, I'm due relatively soon. We'd have no time to plan anything. I'd look like a whale in all of the photos. And Jake could still get deployed without a lot of notice . . ." you trailed off, glancing down. "So, we'll just wait and see."

~~~~~

“Gently,” Jake told Amelia as she pulled into an empty parking lot. “You’re not a NASCAR driver.”

“Says the man who flies around in a fighter jet all day,” Amelia scoffed, driving into the parking lot. “Can we try backing into a spot? I really need to practice that.”

“Yeah, go over there.”

Amelia drove into the corner of the lot and stopped a bit suddenly, causing Jake to grunt as his seatbelt locked to prevent his head from slamming into the dashboard. Rubbing his chest where the seatbelt tightened, Jake turned to Amelia, who winced.

“I know, I know, easy,” Amelia sighed, slumping in her seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just straighten out and drive down the row like you’re going actually to park.”

Amelia followed Jake’s instructions and eventually slowed to a stop. Looking over his shoulder, Jake pointed at the parking spot that he wanted her to aim for. Walking her through the process of backing up, Jake guided Amelia through the maneuver, taking the steering wheel from her for a moment.

After Jake walked her through it again and she pulled out of her spot, Amelia tried to do it herself. But when she finished crooked, Amelia let out a groan of frustration.

“It’s alright. Just straighten out and try it again,” Jake coached her. “You just need to pull the wheel less before you move.”

Amelia pulled out of the spot and tried to back in again. Jake helped her straighten out the wheel properly as she moved into another parking spot. The second try was straighter, though there was still room for improvement. And by the sixth try, Amelia backed into the spot on her own. Once she put the car in park, both Jake and Amelia opened their doors to check the lines.

“See? You just needed a little practice,” Jake replied, closing his door.

“Thanks,” Amelia returned, shutting her own door. “Especially because I know that you’re just doing this to impress her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Amelia replied, glancing over at Jake. “You know, you’re a lot better than my mom at this stuff.”

“I’m used to staying calm,” Jake stated, turning to Amelia. “And besides, your mom does a hell of a lot more than I could ever do. She's allowed one weakness.” He paused for a moment before turning back to the lot. “Who’s been teaching you how to drive?”

“Just my driving instructor, really. Mom doesn’t trust Mav to do it because she’s worried that he’ll teach me to speed.” Amelia turned back to Jake and asked, “Do you really think that your girlfriend is that bad of a driver?”

“No, not at all.”

“If I promise to not tell her?” Amelia rephrased.

“I’ll be driving our family every chance that I can,” Jake stated, causing Amelia to laugh. “But you said that Bradley went driving with you once?”

"Yeah."

"It was that bad?"

“He freaked out and only lasted about ten minutes.”

“That doesn’t shock me,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “About him, not you.”

“My mom thought that I gave him a heart attack.”

“He gave himself a heart attack over nothing, I’m sure,” Jake replied, turning back to Amelia. “Besides, you don’t even have your license yet. You have plenty of time to learn and improve.”

“Thanks. You too.” When Jake turned to Amelia with a questioning look, she explained, “For when you teach your own kid how to drive.”

“Oh,” Jake replied quietly. “Thanks.” Controlling his own emotions, Jake cleared his throat and pointed at the space in front of him. “You should probably learn how to parallel park too if you’re going to pass your driver’s test.”

~~~~~

“I’m just worried that I’m going to look ridiculous,” you sighed to Penny and Sarah, glancing at the racks of clothes in the store.

It was only a few days before Jake's promotion ceremony, and you still didn't have anything to wear to it. So, you enlisted the help of Penny and Sarah Kazansky to find a dress for the occasion. But so far, it was not going well.

“You’ll be fine. And no one’s going to think that,” Sarah Kazansky assured you from another rack.

“Will I? Have you noticed that more than half of the maternity dresses look like they just used the fabric that no one else wanted to wear?” you sighed, showing Sarah a dress from the rack that proved your point. "This print is giving me a headache."

“Here, try this one,” she offered, handing you a plain blue one.

With some help from Penny and Sarah, you collected a few dresses before walking back into the changing rooms. You tried on one that you picked and immediately cringed at your reflection.

“How’s it going?” Penny called through the door.

“Oh, great,” you called back sarcastically.

“Just come out in one. I’m sure that it’s not that bad,” Penny tried to convince you.

Stepping out of the changing room, you shot Penny a look as she tried to hide her expression behind her hand. Sarah, however, noticeably winced. You sighed, turned on your heel, and walked back into the changing room. After you went through all of the dresses that you picked, the three of you headed to another store.

“Jake will love you in anything,” Sarah encouraged you, as you started to look disheartened.

“He has to,” you sighed, inspecting another dress. “He’s the reason why I’m fat.”

“Here, what about this one?” Penny suggested, holding out another dress to you.

“It doesn’t look half bad,” you agreed, studying it.

“Go try it on.”

You walked into a changing room and pulled on the dress. Letting the zipper in the back hang open, you stepped out to show Penny and Sarah. Penny got up and zipped up the back of the dress for you before the three of you looked it over.

The fabric was soft and stretchy and not too heavy. It accentuated your bump and breasts without making either look too big. And with Sarah’s approving look, you knew that it would be appropriate for the promotion ceremony.

“I think we found it.”

You paid for the dress and then Sarah and Penny insisted on taking you out for a meal. Sarah asked all kinds of questions about the baby and your pregnancy and you, in turn, had some questions for her.

"What did you get Ice for his promotions? I haven't been able to come up with anything good to get Jake yet.”

“When he became a captain, I got him a nice watch. When he became an admiral, I got him a new desk for his office." Sarah reached for her drink with a small smirk. "And when he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander, I gave him a baby nine months later.”

“Aunt Sarah!” you groaned, sticking your tongue out.

"Well, you're already working on that one," Penny teased, causing you to hold a hand to your face. "You could always get him something related to the baby."

"But is that really a good gift for his promotion?"

"You know, one time for Ice's birthday, I took a few portraits with the kids so that he could take the photos of them with him if he got deployed or sent to conferences.”

“Jake did love the ultrasound photos,” you replied, mostly to yourself. Thinking it over, you smiled and turned back to Sarah and Penny. “I’ll think of something.”

~~~~~

“So, what exactly did you need my help with?” Javy asked as he and Jake drove into San Diego.

“I need your advice.”

“Thank you for narrowing it down.”

“I need your help with picking out a ring,” Jake stated, causing the sarcastic smile on Javy’s face to fall.

“A ring ring?”

“Yeah, a ring.”

“No, Jake. A ring ring? You’re going to buy the ring?” Javy repeated, turning to face Jake, who kept his gaze on the road. “You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

“That’s the plan,” Jake agreed, pulling into a parking lot. “But I need a ring first to do that.”

“You’re serious?” Javy asked, causing Jake to shoot him a look.

“Of course, I’m serious, Javy.”

"What made you suddenly decide to take my advice?"

"I had a lot of time to think while we were fighting and she wasn't there with me," Jake began, turning off his truck. Turning to Javy after a pause, he added, "And every dream where we were separated, of her looking at me like she did during our fight . . . I couldn't fucking bear it, Javy." Jake looked down at his hands for a moment. "She and our baby deserve the world, and this is just another step in me giving them that. I want to call her my wife and fucking hell I want her to call me her husband."

“I get it,” Javy replied with a proud smile. "You're finally growing up, Jake. I knew it would happen one day."

"Yeah, yeah," Jake scoffed, pushing Javy's hand off of him. "Now, come on. I still got to pick one."

Jake and Javy got out of his truck and made their way down to the jewelry store. Standing in front of the display case with all of the engagement rings, Jake tried to not get overwhelmed with all of the choices. It almost felt like a test. Would he pick one that you would wear and cherish for the rest of your life? Or would he just look like an idiot kneeling there?

"What's your budget?" Javy started off with.

"We're having a baby in three months," Jake reminded Javy, staring down at the rings. "And we're trying to buy a house."

"Should we go to Walmart then?" Jake shot Javy a look, clearly anxious, causing Javy to chuckle and turn back to the display case. "Don't shit your pants over it. We'll find the perfect one."

"I remember telling you that," Jake mumbled, studying more of the rings below him.

"Turn around is fair play," Javy joked, picking up a card that showed off the different cuts and sizes. "Here, does this give you any sort of idea of what to get?"

"This is her mom's ring," Jake replied, showing Javy a picture of it. "She held onto it until Rooster proposed to Emma with it and I think she still has that in her head."

"You're just going to get a replica then?"

“No, but something similar, I guess. We're not her parents, but I know that she holds onto their story. And she's already cried to me about them not being here and I just want to make her happy and feel like they're still apart of this whole thing."

"You need to save these little speeches for your proposal. Stop wasting them on me," Javy stated, though it made Jake smile to himself. "Alright, those ones are similar over there."

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything?" an employee asked as he walked over to them.

"He's buying an engagement ring," Javy explained, causing the employee to nod.

Jake pointed out a few that looked good to him and inspected them closely as the attendant listed off their details. Moving onto the third ring that he selected, Jake paused, admiring it.

It was a simple three stone ring on a silver band. The middle stone was fairly bigger than the surrounding stones, which gave the ring an intricate appearance. It was similar enough to your mother’s ring, but it was distinctly its own ring too.

And Jake quietly favored the three stone rings, since you were going to be a family of three shortly. It just felt symbolic.

God, he was turning into a sap.

"She'll love it, Jake," Javy replied supportively, staring down at the ring too. “And you already got her pregnant anyways, so she'll probably agree right away.”

"Thanks, Javy," Jake returned, rolling his eyes before handing the ring over to the attendant.

~~~~~

After some research and asking around, you decided to reach out to a local photographer to put together a gift for Jake’s promotion. You never really saw yourself as the type to get a maternity shoot done, but Jake loved the photos from your ultrasound so much that you felt like it just made sense.

Ringing the doorbell and waiting a bit nervously, you smiled when the photographer came walking over to the door. She unlocked it and let you inside, offering you a kind smile.

“Hi, I’m April. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she greeted you, shaking your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You followed her back into her studio, your nerves building a little bit. "I've never done anything like this before."

“Not a problem at all. I'll walk you through the process."

April gave you a brief rundown of her equipment and how the photoshoot would go. You already sent her some references and April told you that you would work off of those and see what direction that the photoshoot would take.

“So, you’re doing these for your boyfriend?” April asked as she fixed the lighting.

“Yeah, he just got a big promotion at work, and this was sort of my best idea of what to get him,” you explained, setting down your bag.

"He's a pilot, right?"

"He's a naval aviator," you agreed, looking around the studio.

"I can see the appeal," April mused, hopping down from the ladder and walking over to her camera. "Alright, let's start with that long dress then."

You posed a bit awkwardly for a time but as you and April talked more about your baby and your relationship with Jake and she put on some soothing music, you grew more confident and comfortable with the photoshoot.

"Do you know if you're having a girl or boy?" April asked, straightening up.

"Not yet no. We wanted to wait. Or, I wanted to wait, I guess. I don't think he cared."

"Do you have a preference?" April questioned, lining up another shot.

"Well, I'd be happy either way. I just want the baby to be happy and healthy. But I have a suspicion that we're having a boy."

"Does he want a boy too?"

"No, he wants a girl. Of course, he'll be so happy with a little boy, but I just know he's picturing a little girl." Smiling to yourself as you looked down at your bump, you heard the sound of April's camera going off. "She would have him wrapped around her finger the second that he sees her. That's the thing about men in that kind of industry. They're all tough and macho and then they have a little girl, and then they turn into puddles like that."

April took another photo of you as you talked about your child and Jake before walking over to show you the results. As she slid through them, she smiled at your reaction.

"The best photos are usually the ones that you don't know are being taken," April replied, stepping back. "Did you want to do some more in the dress, or did you want to change?"

"I think those are perfect. Can we do those black and white photos that I showed you next?"

You pulled on Jake's white button up and a simple pair of black stretchy shorts. Buttoning up the shirt so that your breasts were covered but your bump was completely shown off, you returned to where April was waiting for you.

Repeating a lot of the same poses that you did before in your pink dress, you added some more that really focused on your bump.

"Have they kicked yet?" April asked, taking a close up of your bump.

"No, not yet. But we're counting down the days until it happens. My boyfriend always tries to get them to kick before bed, but he hasn't been successful yet."

"He sounds like he's really excited," April mused, taking another shot.

"He is," you agreed, smiling softly.

April walked over to her prop box and pulled out a toy plane. Walking back over to you, she placed the toy on your bump and with just a little sticky material, it stayed in place for a few shots.

You wrapped up the photoshoot and April uploaded the photos to a flash drive for you to take home. You picked a few photos to get printed in time for Jake's promotion ceremony as you contemplated doing a few more. Especially as you looked over the other references that April pulled out.

"Do you do a lot of these?" you asked April, pointing at one.

The woman in the photo was kneeling on the floor, her bump and a well-placed arm protecting her modesty. You had seen photos like that one before but thought it was too bold.

But now you were having second thoughts about it.

"A fair number," April assured you, causing you to bite your lip. "Did you want to try them out?"

"I'd feel weird about those getting printed," you admitted, causing April to smile.

"I print those in house, usually. Or I just do them with a Polaroid. Does that change your mind?"

You went and changed again, still a bit shy as you kneeled down on your mark. You knew that you weren't exactly anywhere near your most beautiful right now, but these photos were for Jake, and he only seemed to get more loving with you as you got larger.

Resting one arm over your breasts, you arched your back and held the pose from the reference shot. April directed you to turn your head a bit towards her.

“Now, imagine that he’s standing right behind me.”

You adjusted your head a bit more and changed your expression until April took the photo.

~~~~~

It was a scorching hot day in Miramar, and you were trying to focus on the ceremony and not how much you were sweating. Hoping that you didn’t already look like a mess, you started to fan yourself with the ceremony pamphlet.

“You alright?” Bradley asked quietly, leaning over.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled back, fanning yourself some more. “Just a little sweaty.”

“A little?”

You elbowed him in the side before focusing on the stage again. You knew that Jake was up next and you didn’t want to miss it. And when they called his name and he got his new pins, you clapped proudly with everyone else as he shook Cyclone’s hand.

The ceremony wrapped up shortly afterwards and everyone stood up, but you continued to sit, not wanting to have to push through everyone. Not when your baby was sitting uncomfortably and moving around at the least opportune times. So, you would just wait for him.

Jake shook hands with the high ranking naval officers, trying to politely move his way over to where you were waiting for him. Excusing himself, he weaved through a few more people before he finally spotted you sitting towards the back. You smiled and waved to him, continuing to fan yourself with the pamphlet.

Jake strode quickly down the aisle towards you. Taking your time, you slowly stood up from your seat as Jake slid into the row in front of you to get to you faster because there was no way that Bradley was going to move out of the way in time.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander,” you told Jake, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mused, pulling you in for a soft kiss and resting his hand on your bump.

“There are other people around,” Rooster reminded the two of you, earning a pinch from his wife.

“Sorry we’re so far back,” you stated as Jake pulled away. “I was worried that I’d have to pee and need a quick escape route.”

“That’s fine. You’re drinking enough water, right?” Jake asked with a dash of concern.

“Yeah. And now I really need to pee,” you replied sheepishly, causing Jake to chuckle.

“I'll go with you,” Emma offered, standing up too.

“We’ll be right back,” you promised Jake, pressing another kiss to his lips.

You and Emma walked away, leaving Jake and Bradley alone with each other. Jake could have walked off, but he wanted to wait for you. So, he just stood there awkwardly with your brother.

“Congratulations,” Rooster stated calmly, standing up from his seat.

“Thank you,” Jake returned with a nod. Taking his cap off of his head, Jake tucked it under his arm. “I’m sure that the rest of the squad will get their promotions soon.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. I’m separating in six months,” Bradley replied seriously, causing Jake to blink with surprise.

“You’re not renewing?”

“No. Neither is Payback.

“Right,” Hangman spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why now?”

“Emma and I agreed to start trying for a baby in a few months. I’m already working towards my masters and Mav has a friend who could get me a job in the city once I finish it.”

“Have you told everyone?”

“She already knows,” Bradley stated, causing Jake to glance in the direction that you left in. “I’ve already accomplished everything that I wanted and now I’m ready to be home with my wife and our future kids. And maybe a dog if I manage to convince her.” Bradley scratched his cheek before dropping his hand. “We’ll tell everyone else after your baby’s born and things settle down.”

“Congrats to you too then,” Jake responded quietly.

“Thanks.” Bradley shifted his weight on his feet before asking, “Did they give you your orders yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m dreading it already.”

“Nothing you can do about it,” Bradley reminded him.

“No,” Jake agreed quietly. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

They didn’t say much more than that, but there was a silent understanding that passed between them. Jake looked up as you came walking over with Emma.

“You good?” you called out to Jake, noting his smile was slow to return.

“I’m good,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your head. “I’m very good.”

“For the love of—”

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[flowerandblood]

Equation without solution 

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, trauma, mention of bullying, mention of physical and mental violence ]

[ description: Michael sees no point in worrying about anything, especially relationships, when all he needs is math. His calm, logical world falls apart when a female painting student asks him for help in calculating the best possible composition to create a portrait. Sexual tension, angst, a litte brat taming and domination kink, great childhood traumas. ]

The fragment with Michael in the trailer inspired me to write this. The whole discussion around this oneshot, whether it should be made at all, made me very tired. I don't think we'll get his backstory in the movie, but even if we did, I just felt like writing it - so here it is. Have fun reading.

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Ever since he could remember, his father had explained to him that an intelligent man is not guided by emotions, but by logic – that's why he married his mother, that's why he went into the army. A long belt hung in plain sight in one of the cupboards of their house, so that he could use it to remind him this when necessary.

His father never hit him with his hand. He did not slap him, considering it humiliating for a man to do this to another man. Punishments were in the nature of a ritual, which he said he did not find pleasant either – he reiterated that only strong people survive in this world, that if a classmate beat him up at school he should not cry, but punch him back even harder.

He was afraid to tell his father when, once again after being hit by Creg, one of the school donkeys, his glasses broke in half. In panic situations he would run to his mother, who would look at him with terrified eyes and only repeat 'quickly, your father must not find out'.

He and his mother shared secrets, which she told him they could not tell his father so as not to upset him – such things were the sweets she had hidden in one of the containers that pretended to be flour, or the savings she meticulously counted when he was away.

She would say that one should always be prepared, but he didn't understand for what.

One day he found a container of sweets standing by his bedside table and his mother had disappeared, leaving him and his father with only a short note, which his father tore up and said they would never mention her again.

He threw away pictures of her, all her clothes, everything, even his toys or his books, which she was the one who bought and read to him. He only managed to hide one, which was a maths exercise book that had slippery, oiled pages from which he could erase the results of equations at will and fill them in again with a dry erase marker.

This book became his favourite; he would only take it out at night when he was sure his father was already asleep and fill in all the blanks one by one, knowing them by heart.

He created his own ritual.

This calmed him down.

Later, however, these tasks proved too simple and tedious, he needed a challenge and asked his teacher, Mrs Rosaline, to recommend something to learn. She did so willingly, surprised by his diligence, and when he came in the next day saying he had solved all the tasks, she started sending him to maths competitions.

Maths was wonderfully logical and cool – you couldn't interpret it in different ways like poetry, you didn't have to get into the mind of the author of an equation to understand the result. Everything was preconceived and safe, a wrong result could always be explained, you could get to the root of it.

There was no reason to be sad, nervous or happy.

He wasn't happy when he got into the best university in the country without any exams, he wasn't happy that he was one of the few to get his own dorm room and a big scholarship.

When, in high school, his tutor announced to his father that he was a genius and that he should start a career in science, his father was furious.

He said that mathematician was not a profession, that all his life he would remain the victim of fate that he had apparently always been destined to be.

His father told him that he was already a man and not a boy, that he would not beat him with a belt to explain to him that he was not a genius but an idiot.

What he had learnt from his father was not to worry about such words – he would grin at him when he tried to explain to him what a mistake he was making with amusement and satisfaction as he watched the man who told him that emotions were a sign of weakness become enraged.

His father was weak.

He was emotional.

Even the army and the fact that he beat him didn't change that.

He thought that this was probably what his father, that is his grandfather, had tried to instil in him, but he had failed miserably.

He truly believed, however, that his father was right.

He didn't need emotions.

Numbers were enough for him.

He could calculate the probability of whether or not he would be able to communicate with someone by analysing quickly in his head with what frequency that person spoke about things that did not interest him.

He didn't consider whether he liked them and didn't even have any idea how he would have known that. He recognised that deciding on the basis of chemical reactions in his brain about his acquaintances was absurd.

Just because he didn't feel anything didn't mean he wasn't laughing or enjoying himself – on the contrary, he smirked a lot, usually while listening to other people's discussions or when he managed to get someone off balance.

Wealthy alpha males who owed the place he had earned only to their rich parents reigned around the university like kings, pretending to be intelligent, studying law, medicine or banking without having a clue what they were doing were his most common victims.

"I could never defend a rapist or a murderer. I don't know, it makes me flinch at the mere idea." Said Kyle once when they were sitting in the library, them pretending to study, actually sitting over open books they weren't concentrating on and talking, distracting him.

When he needed real focus he would study in his room, but when he felt like a bit of entertainment he would go out to listen to them.

It was better than a comedy in TV.

"After all, every man deserves a defence lawyer, he's innocent until the court hands down a final verdict." Matt, a boy who read a lot and could memorise things, replied, throwing quotes from his sleeve without much understanding of them. Kyle snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what? Sometimes you subconsciously know this person did it by looking at them or the evidence is incriminating enough." He replied with a certainty that surprised him.

He corrected his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger, wondering how this moron was going to defend anyone in court if he himself was constantly undermining his client's innocence in his head while he himself wanted to be the judge against him.

"If it was as you say, there wouldn't be so many innocently convicted people in prison. Evidence seems incriminating until one new clue, piece of evidence or witness comes along that changes everything. It is the duty of the defence counsel to look for such details to the best of his ability, and not to judge his client unless he himself wants to plead guilty." He heard a second, frustrated voice and lifted his gaze, noticing a girl standing by the bookcase who had heard their conversation while looking for some book.

He recognised her only by sight, and knew that she had studied painting, so her person did not interest him at all. However, what she said frustrated Kyle and disturbed his nepotistic sense of superiority, so he gave this scene his full attention.

"I didn't know kids drawing with crayons knew anything about such serious matters as criminal law." He said piteously, a mocking sweetness in his voice, his gaze feigning warmth, meant to bring her out of her funk.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"I don't need to know this to realise that no amount of money will make you a good lawyer. I feel sorry for your future clients, because you will destroy them yourself." She replied, raising her eyebrows in amusement, completely unfazed by his insult.

It surprised him that she looked happy and pleased to see his angry face, not letting him get a word in edgewise, grabbing the book she was looking for and walking off towards her friends sitting at a table in the distance.

On his way out of the library he heard her voice, heard her laugh, light and unforced – he glanced at her and their gazes met for a moment before he walked out into the corridor.

He had forgotten about her until an incident when, sitting in the university restaurant, he noticed Kyle walking past her and pretending to stumble, the entire contents of his cranberry juice spilled on her dress, leaving big pink stains.

"Sorry, are you okay?" He asked, feigning seriousness and concern. She stood up, furious, without even speaking to him, walking away.

He watched curiously as Kyle sat down with his friends and high-fived Matt, clearly pleased with himself, putting his arm around some silly giggling girl.

After a while, however, that girl came back, dressed up, wearing only a man's long-sleeved shirt all soiled with paint, covering the small part of her thighs that she apparently used as an apron while painting, overknee socks and trainers on her legs.

He felt something strange seeing her soft thighs, thinking of the fact that he himself wore similar shirts, and took a sip of coffee from his cup, watching as she sat back next to her friends, saying something quickly, going back to eating her lunch, unconcerned.

She laughed.

He shuddered when their eyes met and quickly glanced at Kyle, who was watching her from afar, licking his lips, his leg moving in impatience, the girl he was embracing whispering something in his ear, but he wasn't listening to her.

He was thinking.

Usually when he had to move from one building to another he went through a side exit, so as to have a bit of peace and quiet, but on this day he decided to walk through the main square, walking on its right side, looking through the windows.

He was not at all searching for her with his eyes when he saw the rows of easels and people around the model, dressed in historic Renaissance costume.

He didn't feel the heat stroke at all and stopped involuntarily when he saw her sitting with her back to him, her canvas smaller than the others, she sat closer, focused only on the portrait.

He could see her underpainting, just an outline and a sketch, and the lines she had drawn to help herself.

The golden ratio.

He shuddered at the thought that she was deliberately using mathematical proportional division to achieve a subconscious effect of harmony in the whole composition, which was, after all, just a base for the actual layer with chiaroscuro and colours.

He gasped when one of his year mates slapped him on the back, asking what he was looking at, and when he saw what he was observing behind the window, he laughed.

"These artists. They will die poor, but at least in their mind they will have created something outstanding. Until a critic comes along who says what they've painted is ugly." He muttered with amusement, putting his arm around him as if they were good mates, although they were not.

He looked back and noticed with pounding heart that this girl was turning over her shoulder, looking in his direction.

His friend had said something about the Mona Lisa, about how ugly she was and that he didn't understand how that portrait could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but he was unable to focus on it.

The golden ratio.

The balance of the composition.

Her painting was thoughtful.

He was convinced that painters only recognised their own artistic intuition and thus created ugly paintings, which they then called contemporary art.

He didn't think about her, or at least tried to until his mates told him that Kyle was throwing a party, to which he was obviously not invited.

"Apparently he even invited the girl he doused with juice at the time as an apology. Bruce says he recently brought her flowers during her classes and that he seems to have a crush on her."

"Sometimes it's one step from hate to love."

He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling he experienced in his chest, a sort of sting and tightness in his throat – he went back to the equation he had just solved without listening to them further.

Even if someone didn't know there was supposed to be any kind of party going on, they had certainly heard it that friday night, the music, laughter and screams from Kyle's room echoing loudly through the dorm.

Even though women weren't allowed in there there were plenty of them that day – he could hear them running to the toilet, squealing and giggling, driving him furious as he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading. He pulled down his glasses, massaging the space between his eyes with his fingers, closing his eyelids, trying to calm himself.

His emotions wouldn't change anything.

He swallowed loudly when he heard her voice.

He shuddered when he heard a knock on his room and looked uncertainly towards his door.

He feared it was Kyle and his pack who had drunkenly decided they would have fun at his expense.

"Can I come in?"

He felt his heart start pounding hard, a multitude of thoughts running through his head. He tried to analyse whether he should do it or not, what she might have wanted from him, but nothing came to mind, there was a complete void in his brain.

God.

"Come in." He heard his own uncertain voice, and after a moment the door opened and there she stood.

She came in smiling and cheerful, happy for some reason, closing the door behind her, looking around his room as if she had come at his invitation – she was wearing a large long-sleeved sweatshirt with the university logo reaching halfway down her thighs, overknee light wool socks and trainers on her legs.

Fuck.

He wanted to say something, to ask why he owed this visit and what she wanted from him, but all he did was stare at her legs, at the small area of her exposed naked body between her sweatshirt and the material of her socks.

He felt a strong pulsing in his black sweatpants and swallowed loudly knowing what it meant.

He'd only fucked twice in his life, and this'd been fairly inept acts of physical intimacy between a man and a woman, where they'd pursued their fulfilment on him, not caring much about him, maybe even imagining he was someone else, some more handsome boy who just happened not to want to look at them.

It didn't bother him, because he didn't feel anything for them himself – they didn't even arouse his desire, but they were just very horny, and he decided that he didn't want to remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

It had been more of a relaxing than a pleasurable experience and he didn't understand why men were so overpowered by it, but now, looking at her, he felt his brain and his logic start to give up in favour of what was going on in his trousers.

"You didn't go to the party?" Her light, gentle voice snapped him out of his reverie, causing him to lift his eyes to her face, which, to his surprise, seemed very pretty up close, her eyes large and bright, framed by long lashes, her pink lips curved in a smile.

What made her so happy?

Why did she come to his room and ask such things?

"No. NFI." He replied dispassionately, lowering his gaze to her legs again, unable to contain himself, covering what was happening to him with a book. She blinked, furrowing her brow.

"What?" She asked with amusement and curiosity.

"Not Fucking Invited." He explained and she burst into soft laughter – he wasn't sure he'd ever heard anyone react like that to anything he'd said.

"Maybe it's better for you too. I went there for a while, but they act like pigs in a shed. A friend told me I could find you here so I thought I'd take the opportunity." She said calmly, walking over to his desk, leaning over his books. He wondered with a pounding heart how she had the confidence to just walk into a stranger's room and talk to him as if she had known him for years.

He chuckled and shook his head, running his hand over his face in an attempt to hide his nervousness and what his imagination was suggesting.

"Are you going to tell me why you came here, or are you going to continue wasting my time?" He muttered ironically, figuring that by doing so he would somehow discourage her or force her to stop pestering him.

He blinked and lifted his knees higher when she suddenly sat down next to him on his bed, as if just waiting for that question, excitement in her eyes.

"I've heard you're a mathematical genius and that's a very good thing, because I need someone to help me determine the right proportions for my painting."

She said quickly and he felt his heart beat harder, he got warm in his lower abdomen and all he could think about was wanting to back off and run away.

"Isn't the golden ratio and Fibonacci spiral enough for you?" He muttered, knowing that it was these two proportions that were usually enough for artists to create their compositions. She hit her knees with her palms as if he had said exactly what she assumed.

"No! I want to analyse it more, but I don't have the tools to do it. Nor an exact mind. I want you to help me, take a look at my sketch and tell me what you think could be improved. From a mathematical, compositional point of view." She said with an excitement that frightened him in a way, a gush of enthusiasm that he didn't know what to do, how to discourage her with.

"What's in it for me?" He asked, recognising that perhaps a materialistic approach would discourage her, yet she merely twisted in her seat, completely unmoved, apparently recognising that he was entitled to demand payment for his contribution to her work.

"And what would you like?" She asked lightly, and he swallowed loudly, his gaze involuntarily escaping to her thighs, to where he could see her bare skin.

He looked at her face again, hoping she hadn't seen it, but something in her gaze told him she had noticed it, her lips tightened. He his heart began to pound like crazy, he felt like he was just going through some kind of heart attack.

"Do you want this?" She asked softly, warmly, and he threw her a shocked look, wondering if she was implying what he was thinking, his gaze escaping to her thighs again.

Fuck.

Did he want this?

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly, trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He felt his pupils dilate as she corrected herself in her seat so that her sweatshirt lifted up slightly, he had a feeling that a little more would have been enough for him to see her underwear.

"You can touch me if you want. Just gently. Don't throw yourself at me." She said softly, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes warm and understanding – he thought she seemed slightly embarrassed, her words sounding innocent despite the obvious subtext.

He wasn't sure if his mind controlled the movement of his hand, the way it involuntarily rose and gently touched her thigh, stroking it in a slow, steady up and down motion. He heard her sigh softly and a shudder went through her, saw her lean back and close her eyes.

He wanted to tell her that she thought too highly of herself if she thought he was so desperate, but instead he just looked at her with his lips slightly parted, fighting with himself.

He glanced at her face again when, after a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him with a warm, misty gaze, as if she had drifted away with her thoughts somewhere for a moment. She smiled, but there was no mockery in it, her expression had something of girlish innocence.

He couldn't focus on anything other than the thought of how soft and firm her skin was – he wasn't sure he had ever touched anything more pleasurable in his life.

He felt both shame and thrill at the thought of how painfully hard he was, swallowing with difficulty.

He didn't quite understand what was just happening between them – his mind wanted to classify this as a prelude to physical intimacy, but he wasn't sure he was right. He felt immense tension and lust, but also a sort of tightening in his pit, intrigue and anxious anticipation.

"If you want, we can kiss. You have such full lips." She said softly with some kind of admiration and sincere desire, from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

He wasn't good at choosing his words when it came to this kind of discussion, and he didn't know completely how to act, so he just stared at her, her thigh under his hand seeming to almost burn him.

Seeing the lack of any reaction from him and the clear shock painted on his face she moved a little closer to him – there was something encouraging in her movement and gaze, some kind of comfort and concern.

She was close, but far enough away to still not invade his space, giving him the sense that she was waiting for his decision.

He stared at her, feeling that his erection hidden in his trousers was about to explode, all swollen and throbbing, and after a moment their lips pressed against each other in a sudden, wet dance of their tongues and teeth, their hands clenched in each other's hair, the loud, lewd click of their saliva echoing in his ears louder than the muffled music coming from several rooms away.

"Be gentle." She just whispered into his mouth between their drawn-out, sticky kisses, and he hummed at her words, smelling the pleasant scent of her shampoo in his nose.

He grabbed her softly around her waist and seated her on his thighs with his arm around her, throwing his book to the side, rubbing against her from underneath, letting her feel what she had done to him.

He heard her sigh in contentment at feeling how hard he was, both of them beginning to pant loudly as she began to roll against him with her hips, herself clearly taking pleasure from it.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and drew in the air loudly feeling that she had no shorts on underneath, just her underwear alone, and for some reason it turned him on even more.

Had she planned this all along?

She moaned feeling his hands slip under the material of her panties and squeeze her bare skin with confidence – she ran her fingers through his hair as the tip of her pink, wet tongue ran over his upper lip. He felt a strong shiver run through his entire body and involuntarily began to pant along with her, having never experienced anything like this before.

Her touch, though filled with desire, was not cold and crude, focused only on her pleasure, her hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his neck with tender, caring movements, her puffy, full lips merely teasing him, not wanting to give him any more full kisses, so he only growled, frustrated, pulling her forcibly tighter, sliding his tongue deep into her throat.

He didn't even feel the need to undress her, the very thing they were doing now, the senselessness and yet purposefulness of it made him shiver, her certainty of what she wanted.

Was she really going to do this?

Sleep with a total stranger?

What was the logic in this?

He shuddered at the thought that maybe there was none.

None.

She wouldn't let him think about it – he drew in the air loudly as he felt her nimble fingers untie his sweatpants, slipping them down slightly, exposing what was underneath them, his hard, twitching manhood enveloped by the cool air.

He saw her rise slightly, with a movement of her hand apparently pushing the material of her underwear aside, positioning herself above him as he grasped his length in his hand, automatically directing it between her thighs.

"− I'm taking pills − I'm clean −" She whispered softly and he just nodded, not knowing what more he could answer, looking at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

She lifted herself up with a loud click of her moisture only to fall back down, riding him in a slow, unhurried rhythm – he just leaned down and sank his face into the hollow of her neck, taking in her scent, pleasantly sweet and fresh, panting loudly.

They both moaned embarrassingly loudly and squeezed their eyelids shut as she lowered herself onto him, slowly pushing the fat head of his cock deep into her body.

He could feel how wet she was, how her fleshy muscles pulsed hungrily against him, how tightly they wrapped around his root on all sides miraculously enhancing his sensation.

She embraced him, stroking his hair, clearly sensing his uncertainty, terror and desire mixed together. Unwittingly, his hips began to respond to her movements with sure, deep thrusts, to which she moaned loudly, something of helplessness and delight in her sounds.

"− do you want to stop? −" She mumbled softly, kissing his hair with gentle, warm click. He lifted his face finding her lips in a greedy kiss before turning her onto her back, recognising that he couldn't take it any longer, that his cock was about to explode.

"− yeah − I want to stop very, very much −" He growled frustrated at the way she was teasing him, resting one hand on the backrest of the bed in front of him, the other holding her hip tightly, slamming into her with rapid, quick stabs of his hips from which she began to moan and pant loudly, startled, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted.

"− don't you feel it? −" He asked ironically, thrusting his cock so deep into her that he felt like he would pierce her stomach, her body arched backwards as if trying to escape from him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture, their bodies smacking against each other quickly with a loud, wet slaps.

"− please −" She mewled and he felt a shudder as well as heat in his lower abdomen, something in the way she said it, in the tone of her voice, in her gaze made him lick his lips feeling that just a moment more, a few more thrusts and he was about to come.

"− please, what? − can't you put a fucking sentence together anymore? − you like it when someone fucks you so rough that you don't have words, huh? −" He hissed and groaned low as he felt her walls clench tightly around his fat erection at his words, sucking it inside, her thighs spread wide in front of him, allowing him to slide into her as deeply as he wanted in a gesture of complete submission.

"− I'm sorry −" She mumbled, looking at him helplessly like a rebuked child looking at a parent, and he thought he could devour her whole right now, fuck her all night if she wanted to, if she would react the way she did now.

"− good you're sorry − fucking brat −" He growled, panting loudly along with her and suddenly, without even knowing why, he kissed her greedily, pounding his cock into her with quick, brutal thrusts.

He felt her come, her walls began to clench on him greedily, not wanting to let him go, her whole body was trembling – she tried to push him away, sobbing and moaning with pleasure into his mouth.

He fucked her through her orgasm until he finally gave in and cum inside her, panting loudly, not recognising himself, his sounds or his reactions.

"− oh God − fuck − fuck − fuck −" He mumbled clenching his eyes, coming down from his peak, still moving inside her, hearing her loud breathing underneath him.

What exactly was that?

He collapsed on top of her, completely powerless, smelling the scent of her hair, her hands embracing his waist. They laid like that in the light of his bedside lamp, breathing heavily, listening to the muffled music, the screams and laughter from the party taking place a few rooms away.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began – they were both all sticky from her moisture, her insides hot, pleasantly enveloping him on all sides, giving him some strange sense of security.

He thought it was for some of the hormones that are released after orgasm designed to bring partners closer together and bond.

He shuddered when he suddenly heard her soft, quiet voice.

"So what do you say? Will you help me?" She asked shyly, and he sighed heavily, silent for a long moment.

No.

"Yes."

_____

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

@at-a-rax-ia @daemonskelitsos @alphard-hydraes-blog @travelingmypassion

#michael gavey #gavey #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan nation #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fic #michael gavey oneshot #michael gavey smut #michael gavey angst #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell fandom #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell angst #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x female reader #michael gavey x fem!reader #dark michael gavey

[the-kr8tor]

yk that post about reader babying hobie? can you write it the other way round too?

YESSS part two!!! Ly thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, R is wearing makeup, CW suggestive, CW food mention, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You come home to a dark flat, save for a lamp in the doorway, you can barely make out the shapes of your furniture. Bones aching, muscles screaming out from fatigue, you trudge the small space towards your shared bedroom. Not even bothering to put your shoes in their proper place, or even turn on the lights. Shoes haphazardly tossed somewhere, you leave it to future you to take care of.

Wondering where Hobie is, worry is etched on your face with the tiredness from today. But the emotion is washed away when you spot him snoring on the bed. A singular sock on his foot, you see your oversized jumper on him with the words that says ‘I survived London!’ on it. Checkered pajama pants on his legs, arms hugging your pillow and his cheek squished in between. His comfortable attire makes you jealous while you're still in your work clothes, all grimey from today. You could kiss his sleeping face but the heaviness in your bones says otherwise.

Blinking the tiredness away, you stand on the carpeted floors, wondering if you should even dare to wash up before slithering under the covers and over to his arms. You could go shower but you're afraid that you might collapse on the tiled floors with how your legs are about to give out from under you.

You must've been standing for a while since Hobie sensed you. He sits up, one eye open, sleep still clinging to his lashes as he scrunches his nose at your weird stance.

“Are you my sleep paralysis demon?” He jokes, voice deep and hoarse from sleep.

“What?” You barely understood his words. “Hi,” tone wavering, you still smile at him. “Sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep.”

“You just got home?” You sluggishly nod. Hobie's already standing up to meet you on your rooted spot. Hands rubbing softly on your arms, he's jolted awake when he sees your heavy eyes fighting the urge to stay open. “Go to bed—”

“I need to shower.” You whine, not from what he asks but the annoyance that you still have something to do before you could melt into the covers.

“Do that tomorrow, I don't mind.” Hobie reluctantly releases your fatigued form, footsteps quiet as he opens your drawers for fresh clothes. “Change into these and get into bed.” When you don't move to take the pajamas, he guides you gently towards the shared bed, hands slowly making you sit on the soft mattress. “I'll take care of you, please? Do it for me, yeah?”

You almost falter at his sweet words, he knows exactly where to pull your heartstrings. “You'll be sleeping next to a smelly me.”

“I always sleep next to a smelly you.”

“Hey—” you say with a weak laugh.

“Kiddin’” he squishes your face in his warm hands. “change and lie down, I'll handle your face.”

“What's up with my face?” You touch your oily cheek, “do I look that bad?”

“Never, love.” Hobie presses a careful kiss on your forehead. “Never.”

You hum into the kiss, eyes closed, you barely register the fact that he has left your side. The bathroom light almost blinds you, the rushing of the water from the tap is a lot louder at night, making you huff quietly at the sound.

As you change into clean clothes, Hobie readies everything he needs to take care of you. He was ready to tuck you into bed but he comes back to you with the blanket drowning you. Your eyes are the only thing visible, nose kissing the fabric, fighting the urge to sleep. You blink rapidly, fingers waving at him.

“You look fuckin' adorable.” He says into the dark room, save for the lamp on the bedside table. You look like you're about to meld into the bed.

“Hmm, even though I smell?”

Sitting next to you, he lifts the blanket away from your face to get a proper look at you. “Let me check.” Suddenly leaning down, he sniffs dramatically at your neck, the tip of his nose tickles your neck. Giggling, you weakly push him off. He raises his head with a lopsided smile. “Nah, not really.”

“Really?”

“Just a bit.” He clearly jokes.

“Aww, maybe I should just shower.” You begin to sit up, faking that you took his words seriously.

“Y/N.” With gentle hands, he lays you back down.

You laugh, “I'm also kidding.” Spotting your makeup remover wipes next to his leg, your heart grows a hundred times bigger. “Oh”

Hobie takes the crinkling packaging, opening the sticky flap before he grabs a wet wipe. You watch him do it all with a soft smile and tender eyes. Hand splayed on his thigh, you let his warmth seep through you as he gently and expertly wipes the makeup off your cheeks.

“You're a natural.”

“I've got a good teacher.” He says, breath fanning your moist cheeks as he leans closer to you. “‘sides, I started using them too after a show.”

You fake a gasp. “So you're the one using them all.” Poking his pajama clad leg, you press and push until his smug smile turns into a playful grin. Hands warm, he rubs the wet wipe near your eyes, careful of poking you. “Wait, I don't remember showing you how to use them.”

“Why do you think I watch you do your routine every night, hm?”

“Because you love me, dummy. And you're smitten.” Your voice is hoarse but saccharine. He taps your eyelids, prompting you to close them. The wet wipe is cold against your skin but his warm palms grant you reprieve.

“That too,” Hobie confesses like he hasn't a thousand times before. “I was also curious about all the goopy shit you use.”

“Hmm, yes, goopy shit is the right term.” You relax fully, his free hand cages you in, it's placed on the side of your head for leverage. “Make sure you get my eyebrows.”

“Of course, love.” He indulges you, lips quickly pressing sticky kisses on your now clean cheeks. The tender act has your arms inching closer to his waist, enveloping him. “Just close your eyes, I don't look good from this angle.”

“Impossible. You know that's impossible, right?” You crack one eye open to see him tilt his head like he's chastising you, but his smile says otherwise.

“Close your damn eyes.”

“No.” You giggle out, closing your eyes. He pretends to rub harshly at your brow bone.

“Brat.” Hobie sighs, not from exasperation but from the sheer sweetness in his chest.

“Love you too.”

He hums before whispering back an ‘I love you’ that's only for you to hear. Your ears pick up the sound of the package crinkling. A new wet wipe is now gently being rubbed on your soft lips.

“Your lips are dry, did you drink any water today?”

“Mm-hmm, does tea count?” You pout so he could properly clean your lips. He's concentrating, eyebrows knitted, tongue poking out from the seam of his lips.

“I'm guessing you didn't eat much today?”

“I did,” you pop one eye open to see him frown slightly. “I really did! I ate a sandwich.”

“Just one? For the whole day?”

“...yes.” Your eyes glaze over from the sheer sleepiness.

Hobie cradles your moist face, his own incredibly close to yours that you grow cross eyed at his big brown eyes. “I'm gonna make you breakfast tomorrow. A big fuckin’ one that’ll have you full until the weekend.”

“I thought you were about to take a bite at me.” You chuckle, hands holding his face, nails gently cleaning the sleep off the corners of his eyes.

“Keep doin' that at work and I'll actually take a bite out of you.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, Hobie.”

He rubs his nose to yours, the makeup remover rubbing off on his skin. “Sleep, or I'll take a bite right now.”

“Lay down with me?” You ask quietly and sweetly whilst patting the space next to you.

“Love, I have shocker’s gun in my workshop, the day I say no to that grab it and shoot me because that ain't me anymore.”

“So dramatic—” Hobie plops himself atop you. “Next to me not on top!”

“You weren't complainin’ last time—”

“Hobie!”

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #cw food mention #hobie fluff #hobie x reader #fanfic

[lifeinacartoonart]

Embracing Chaos: A Pantser's Guide to Crafting Compelling Fiction

Planning a story when you're a pantser (someone who writes "by the seat of their pants" without extensive outlining) can be a creative and fluid process. Here are some steps to help you plan a fic, even if you prefer to write without a detailed outline:

Start with an idea. Begin with a basic idea or concept for your fic. It could be a character, a situation, a setting, or even a specific scene that's been floating around in your mind.

Character Sketches: Develop your characters. Write down their names, physical descriptions, personalities, and backstories. Even if you don't plan everything in advance, knowing your characters well can guide your writing as you go.

Set your goals: Determine what you want to achieve with your fiction. Is it a short story, novella, or novel? What's the central theme or message you want to convey? Understanding your goals can give your writing direction.

Identify Key Plot Points: Instead of a detailed outline, focus on identifying key plot points or moments you want to include in your fic. These could be major events, conflicts, or turning points. Think about the beginning, middle, and end.

Create a Loose Timeline: Organise your key plot points in a loose chronological order. This will help you maintain a sense of structure without stifling your creativity. You can rearrange or add new points as you write.

Develop Themes and Motifs: Consider the themes and motifs you want to explore in your fic. These can help guide your writing and give it depth. Themes could be love, friendship, redemption, etc.

Write a First Scene: Start with the opening scene or chapter. This will help you dive into the story without feeling overwhelmed by the entire plot. As you write, let the characters and situations evolve naturally.

Follow Your Characters: Allow your characters to guide the story. As you write, pay attention to how they react to situations and make decisions. Sometimes, the best plot twists come from character-driven choices.

Embrace Revision: Understand that your story may evolve and change as you write. Don't be afraid to revise and rewrite parts of your fic to maintain consistency and improve the overall narrative.

Use Writing Prompts: If you ever get stuck or need inspiration, consider using writing prompts. They can help you generate new ideas and keep the creative juices flowing.

Beta Readers or Feedback: If you're comfortable with it, share your work with beta readers or writing groups. They can provide valuable feedback and suggestions to help you refine your fiction.

Stay Open to Change: Be open to making major changes if the story naturally takes a different direction than you initially planned. Sometimes, the best stories come from unexpected twists.

Trust the Process: Remember that everyone's writing process is different. Embrace the pantser approach if it works for you, and trust your instincts as a writer.

Writing as a pantser can be an exciting and spontaneous journey. While it may require more revisions and editing along the way, it often leads to unique and organic storytelling. So, start writing and let your creativity flow freely!

#writing resources #writing tips #writing community #pantser writer #pantser or plotter

[praisethegabs]

SCARS

pre re4r!leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: You and Leon are the rookies in the training camp, although Leon is under the training of Major Krauser. You hate Krauser more than anyone else and you despise his methods, knowing how abusive he can be. As for Leon, he's your roommate and he's like a stranger to you — until you see his scars.

warnings: descriptions of violence, bullying and physical abuse. Leon cries a lot, hurt and comfort, angst with good ending.

word count: 4492k

a/n: another angst one shot with a happy ending. I'm really into angst, anyways. hope you guys like it as much as i do!

"Being silent does not mean not speaking but opening our ears to hear everything around us" Paulo Coelho

As you walked into the cold, fluorescent-lit government training facility, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. You were part of an elite group chosen for a classified program, and the details had been shrouded in secrecy. All you knew was that your skills were needed to combat a rising threat.

Navigating through the labyrinthine hallways, you finally arrived at your assigned room. You swiped your access card and pushed the door open, revealing a sparsely furnished living space. Two singles bed, two desks, and a small bathroom were all that adorned the room. You already knew you would have a roommate, and you were excited to meet them.

As you entered, your eyes fell upon a man standing near the window, gazing out at the facility's courtyard. He had a rugged handsomeness about him, and the name on his doorplate read "Leon Kennedy."

"Excuse me, I think there might be some mistake. I was assigned to this room, and it appears we're meant to be roommates." You cleared your throat to get his attention.

The man turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. He was young, perhaps in his early 20s... but something about his eyes told you he's someone who went through a lot. His eyes were sad, tired and traumatized.

"Roommates, huh?" he said, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy."

You smiled largely at him, shaking his hand. You spotted a bandage over his shoulder; probably something recent. You left all your belongings under your new bed, and sat there with crossed legs.

"Do you know who's your instructor?" You asked him, curious.

"Major Krauser. Do you know who's yours?" Leon asked in return, avoiding your gaze.

"Hmm... I don't know yet, but apparently we won't train together" you said, grabbing a few clothes.

"Well, good luck" Leon faced you, his voice sounding kind for a brief moment, and he smiled.

You hated Major Krauser.

After the first month in the training camp, rumors had been circulating throughout the training facility about Major Krauser and his unorthodox methods. Whispers in the hallways and hushed conversations among the trainees hinted at the darkness behind his strict training regimen. You had heard your fellow agents-in-training speak in worried tones about the psychological toll it took and the physical brutality they endured under his guidance.

This evening, as you returned to your shared room after a grueling day of training, you noticed Leon sitting on his bed, shirtless. His body bore a tapestry of bruises, fresh and angry against his pale skin. It was the worst you had ever seen him, and it sent a chill down your spine.

"Leon," you gasped, rushing to his side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just a rough day in training. It's part of the program." Leon shifted his gaze away from you and shrugged, wincing in pain.

You didn't buy it. You knew that Leon had faced something before, even though he refused to talk about it, but these bruises looked different, more vicious. You couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Leon, this isn't right. I've been hearing things about Major Krauser, about what he does to us, to you" you sighed heavily, trying to convince him to talk.

"Come on, you don't understand. Krauser's methods may be tough, but they're meant to prepare us for the worst. We can't afford to be soft in this line of work." Leon's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and frustration, and he turned to face you.

Still, you weren't convinced. You'd seen the toll it was taking on your fellow trainees, and now, on the man you truly cared more than anyone.

"Leon, it's not about being soft. It's about doing what's right about treating us with respect and dignity. This isn't training; it's abuse." You glanced at him as your voice sounded more concerned, and you stood up, then sitting next to him.

Leon sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Sometimes we have to do things that others wouldn't understand. There's more to this than meets the eye, and I can't talk about it. Just focus on your training. We'll get through this."

You wanted to push further, to demand answers, but you could see the weariness in Leon's eyes. You knew he was hiding something, something that ran much deeper than the surface of their brutal training.

And then, when you were about to leave for dinner, someone knocked aggressively at the door. It was him, the said man you hated the most. Major Jack Krauser.

Krauser was standing there, an imposing figure with a harsh expression. "Kennedy," he barked, "get ready. We're going to train right now"

Leon nodded, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He had been through tough training earlier, but something about today's session felt ominous. Krauser was notorious for his extreme methods, but this was different.

You watched silently as Leon left the room, being escorted by Krauser. Everyone at the dorm room was looking at the scene; it wasn't a secret that Krauser loved to bully Leon. If he had any small opportunity, he would definitely take advantage of it.

The training began, a relentless barrage of physical challenges and combat drills. Leon gave it his all, but Krauser pushed him harder than ever before. He moved with the agility of a panther, landing blows that seemed impossible to evade. Each strike landed with a painful intensity.

Time blurred as the grueling training continued. Leon's body ached, his breathing labored, but he refused to give in. He knew the importance of pushing his limits, especially in their line of work.

He felt every punch against his skin, the way Krauser did that just for his humiliation. It wasn't training. It was a pure demonstration of who was in charge.

"You're weak! Pathetic!" Krauser yelled, punching Leon even more. "Do you think you'll survive the training? Such a disappointment"

Finally, when Leon's muscles screamed in protest, and his vision blurred with exhaustion, Major Krauser called a halt.

"That's enough for today, Rookie," he said, his tone colder than ever.

Leon, battered and bruised, sank to his knees, gasping for breath. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. He couldn't help but wonder what had brought on this level of brutality in his training today.

As Major Krauser walked away, leaving Leon alone on the training ground, he couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister lurked beneath the surface. But for now, all he could do was struggle to his feet and gather the strength to carry on, one step at a time.

He managed to go back to the dorm room, feeling his bones hurting. Leon spotted the bleeding from his ribs, and he wanted desperately to cry.

After everything he saw at Raccoon City, this was the only thing he wasn't expecting at all. The training was hard and painful, and it was taking a toll on him. And worse than that, he still would see you. Leon couldn't understand why you cared so much about him, but sometimes he got himself thinking you were just like him. Or what he used to be.

"Did he hurt you?" Leon heard you ask when he walked inside the room. He sighed heavily.

"It's okay, I'm fine" Leon muttered, trying to avoid you. He thought it would be for the best to keep you away from him.

Silently, in the pungent scent of antiseptic hung in the air, Leon gingerly removed his torn shirt, revealing the intricate web of cuts and bruises that adorned his battle-worn body. With a sigh, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, his breath labored.

You decided to stay silent, completely focused on your book, which was very usual.

The other roommates were friends at this point, but not you and Leon. You were a total stranger to him, and he was a blank space to you.

But, truth be told, you had been an unexpected presence in his life. A stranger at first, you had shown kindness and compassion that Leon had never experienced before. You had witnessed his struggles and the pain etched on his face, and in your own quiet way, had offered your support.

Decided to change that, you took a deep breath and walked straight to the bathroom. When you came back, Leon was still laying on his bed, his eyes closed and his breath heavier. Your gentle hands trembling slightly gathered an assortment of bandages and ointments. You knelt beside Leon, your touch soft as you began to clean and tend to his wounds. The room was filled with a hushed serenity as you worked, a comforting contrast to the relentless violence of his training.

"What are you doing?" Leon gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a surprise tone.

"Being your friend" you said to him, focused completely on his swollen ribs. "Let me take care of you, Lee"

He winced as you tended to a particularly nasty gash on his forearm, but he held back his pain, not wanting to show weakness. However, you saw through his facade. You looked up, your eyes meeting his with an understanding that ran deeper than words.

"Leon, it's okay to let it out," you whispered, your voice soothing. "You've been through so much today."

He hesitated for a moment, struggling to contain his emotions, but the weight of the day's trials was too much to bear. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he finally allowed them to escape, his shoulders shaking as the emotions he had suppressed for so long came rushing forth.

You set aside the first aid supplies and wrapped your arms around Leon, pulling him into a comforting embrace. You held him as he wept, offering solace through the storm of his pent-up feelings. In that moment, Leon realized that he didn't have to be alone in his pain and vulnerability. He had found an unexpected friend and confidant in you, and your presence was a source of strength he had never anticipated.

After twenty minutes, Leon finally calmed down. His eyes met yours again, and you felt something delicate floating inside you.

"I'm sorry" Leon muttered again, sighing.

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay" you said back, your words full of kindness and care.

"Do you... do you know anything about the incident in Raccoon City?" Leon finally asked, feeling he needed to talk about this torment.

"I've heard something about the outbreak... and the city being exploded" you said to him, already understanding what he was saying.

"I was there... it was my first day at the RPD..." Leon said, and somehow, you felt the pain in his words. "It was in there I got shot"

And then, he showed you the scar on his chest, right under the shoulder. Truth be told, you were not his friend, and you weren't exactly the best person to talk with, but Leon was alone. He had no one else besides you. But he was so broken inside that he needed to vent.

Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with tears. The room in the training facility was the only place he felt safe enough to open up. You sat again next to his side, waiting patiently for him to open up.

"It was a nightmare" Leon began, his voice shaky. "My first day as a cop in Raccoon City… It was nothing like I expected."

You leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on Leon's knee. "Take your time, Leon. You can tell me everything."

Leon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes, and suddenly, everything about that night came back like a wave.

"I got a call one week before telling me i wasn't supposed to go, but I decided to go there anyway, ignoring the call. When I arrived, it was like something out of a horror movie. Zombies, blood, chaos everywhere." He whispered to you as he could see that night again.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes as he recounted the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Annette Birkin, a scientist working for Umbrella Corporation, shot me in the shoulder when I was trying to help a friend. She was trying to protect something, something terrible. I could see it in her eyes. She didn't care that I was just a rookie cop. She just… shot me."

Your expression softened as you listened, your grip on Leon's knee tightening in support. "That sounds terrifying, Leon. I can't even imagine what you went through."

Leon wiped away a tear and continued, "And then, I found Claire again, this girl who was looking for her brother. We tried to escape the nightmare together. But it just got worse. We found out the city was infested with those… those things."

His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, finally letting the tears flow. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him and offering comfort as he sobbed.

"I don't know if I can handle all this," Leon said, his voice muffled. "I never signed up for this. I just wanted to be a cop and make a difference."

You held him close, offering a soothing presence. "You're stronger than you think, Leon. You've already survived so much. We'll get through this together. And when it's over, you'll be the hero you want to be."

Leon continued to sob out loud. He was keeping things inside him for so long that it was almost unbearable. And then, you noticed he wasn't telling you everything. He kept more things to him than he told you.

"Leon," you said gently, "you've been through so much. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. I'm here for you."

He took a shuddering breath and looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

"I… I don't know how to explain it. The city was like a nightmare. People turning into those monsters, the stench of death everywhere. And then… then, there was the Tyrant."

Your brow furrowed as you listened intently.

"The Tyrant? What happened?"

Leon's voice trembled as he continued, "It was this hulking, unstoppable monster. It was relentless, chasing me through the police station. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was already dead."

His voice cracked, and he wiped away more tears. You sighed heavily. Of all things you imagined, this was the last thing you would think of. Gently, you decided to take his hand, offering a comforting squeeze. "I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been, Leon. But you're here, you survived it. You're strong, and you can get through this."

Leon nodded, his voice still shaky. "I know, but the nightmares, they just won't go away. Every time I close my eyes, I see those things, and the Tyrant's face… I can't escape it"

After that night, Leon seemed more distant. You've noticed his small attempts to start a conversation, but every time he tried, he ended up being silent and avoiding you. And honestly, you couldn't understand him. You were so worried about him, feeling desperate to help, but being obligated to watch him sink in his own darkness, refusing any help or a friend.

As for his training, Major Krauser had always been a formidable presence at the academy. Tall and imposing, his glare was enough to make even the bravest cadets shudder. He had taken a particular interest in Leon, a young recruit with potential, but also an easy target for the major's relentless bullying.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, Major Krauser approached Leon, his voice laced with cruelty and a smile that would make the devil himself be scared.

"Leon," he barked, "You're a disgrace to this unit. You'll never amount to anything here."

Leon clenched his fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. He knew better than to talk back to the major.

"Yes, sir," he replied through gritted teeth.

Major Krauser's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Since you seem to enjoy wasting everyone's time, you have a new mission. A punishment mission. You're to report to the obstacle course at 0500 hours tomorrow. Maybe that will teach you some discipline."

Leon's heart sank. The obstacle course was notorious for being grueling and unforgiving. He couldn't help but feel the weight of despair as he nodded and saluted Major Krauser.

The obstacle course loomed in the distance, a daunting series of barriers, walls, and challenges. Leon stood at the starting line, his confidence shaken from the relentless bullying of Major Krauser. The memory of the major's words echoed in his mind, eroding his self-esteem.

As the signal to start rang out, Leon's heart raced, but his steps were heavy. He stumbled over the first set of hurdles, scraping his knees against the coarse ground. His classmates, once his friends, now looked on with a mixture of pity and scorn.Leon tried to ignore their judgmental gazes and push forward.

The rope climb came next, and he struggled to find the strength in his trembling arms. His fingers slipped, and he fell back to the ground, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. The tire run proved equally difficult. With every leap through the hanging rubber, he felt like a clumsy child instead of a trained cadet.

A chorus of laughter erupted from behind him as his classmates breezed through the obstacle.The wall presented a nearly insurmountable challenge. Its height seemed to grow with every passing second, and Leon's past success at conquering it felt like a distant memory. He tried to summon the courage to leap, but his legs refused to obey. Each futile attempt only deepened his frustration.

Major Krauser watched from the sidelines, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. He had orchestrated this punishment with the intention of breaking Leon's spirit, and it appeared to be working.

Leon finally reached the final leg of the course, the mud pit. Covered in muck and exhaustion, he struggled to pull himself out, his body feeling like dead weight. His vision blurred, and it became increasingly challenging to distinguish the course from the nightmarish haze in his mind.

As Leon approached, he couldn't help but think of Major Krauser's words: "You'll never amount to anything here." The tears welled up in his eyes, and his hands quivered.

Finally, as Leon reached the wall at the end of the course, his trembling arms gave out, and he fell to the ground, unable to complete the final obstacle. The disappointment was crushing, and the sting of failure was intensified by the distant laughter of Major Krauser, who had been watching from the sidelines.

Major Krauser approached Leon, a cruel smile on his face. "You're a disgrace, Rookie," he sneered. "I told you that you'd never amount to anything here, and you've proven me right. Incompetence at its finest."

Leon's eyes filled with tears, not just from the physical and emotional pain but from the humiliation of being berated by the very man who had tormented him from the start. The other cadets exchanged uncomfortable glances but said nothing.

"How pathetic! Are you gonna cry like a baby? You don't belong in here, Rookie!" Krauser shouted, humiliating him in front of everyone.

Leon's spirits were shattered, and the weight of Major Krauser's scorn felt insurmountable. As he lay there, covered in mud and feeling utterly defeated, the obstacle course had become not just a physical challenge but a harsh reminder of the relentless cruelty that he would have to endure on his path to becoming a better soldier.

The following morning, Leon returned to the dorm room, covered in mud, sweat, and exhaustion. He stumbled through the door and collapsed on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. The events of the punishing mission had taken a toll on him.

As you were studying at the desk, as soon as Leon walked inside the room, you immediately noticed his distress. You rushed to his side, concern etched on your face.

"Leon, what happened?" You asked gently.

Leon's voice quivered as he recounted the humiliation and the physical strain of the punishment mission. "I can't take it anymore," he admitted, his pride shattered.

You sat beside him, offering a comforting embrace.

"I know his an asshole... and he's cruel... but I'm here with you" you whispered, wiping away a tear from his cheek. "I'm here"

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

As Leon buried his face in your shoulder, he realized that your support was the beacon of light in the darkness of his training. After so many months together, your presence gave him the strength to face each day, no matter how tough the challenges became. After what happened in Raccoon City, he finally saw that he had someone by his side. You were the only one who could understand what he was going through.

"You gave it your all, and that's what matters. Don't let Major Krauser's words get to you." You finally said something after minutes in silence.

Leon tried to force a weak smile, but the tears still welled up in his eyes.

"It's just... It's hard. He makes me feel so small, and I don't know how much more of this I can take." Leon vents with you, feeling exhausted after the course.

Your voice was filled with compassion as you offered a reassuring hug. But then, you noticed something different. You already knew Leon had scars, but this was new.

"But what happened to your eye?" You glanced at him, your concern deepening.

Leon hesitated, not wanting to draw more attention to his ordeal.

"I... I must have hit it during one of the obstacles," he mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.

You gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. When you saw the deep purple bruise forming around his eye, your eyes filled with anger.

"Leon, this isn't from an obstacle. Someone hurt you." You couldn't hide your frustration as you realized the truth.

Tears welled up in Leon's eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. He had kept the incident with Major Krauser a secret for too long, and now, someone who cared was finally noticing.

"It was Major Krauser," he admitted in a hushed voice. "He hit me after I couldn't finish the course."

"That asshole, son of a..." you muttered with every ugly word you knew. "We can't let things end like this"

"It's okay, you don't need to pick up a fight for me" Leon smiled again, his eyes still shining with tears. "Soon we'll end this training and then... I won't see him again"

"Are you sure about that, Leon?" You asked him, with visible concern and worry on your voice.

"Yes, I'm sure" he nodded, confident.

Leon was the type of guy with a hero complex. He thought he could fix everything — not noticing that sometimes, there were things beyond fixing. Each day, he returned to the dorm room full of purple marks and exhausted. Each day, you were there for him, like a true friend. You took care of his wounds and showed him support and reassurance.

Most importantly, you were there.

Leon doesn't talk about Raccoon City. Every time he tries, he shuts himself completely and cries. He avoided this topic for months because he felt he wasn't ready to share the rest of it. He wanted, but he couldn't.

You've decided not to ask more things about his life. He needed time to process everything, and the training, although cruel and painful, made him forget for a while.

But the nights were the worst.

He had nightmares, and sometimes, he would wake up screaming. Leon refused to talk about his nightmares, always thinking he shouldn't bother you with such silly things. Little did he know that you cared — a lot.

It was almost two in the morning. Leon awoke with a start, the lingering terror of his dream still clutching at his heart. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead as he struggled to discern the line between reality and the haunting images of Raccoon City.

The room was almost filled by a pale moonbeam that sliced through a gap in the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Breathing heavily, he tried to shake off the horrors that still clung to his mind. He couldn't go back to sleep; the nightmares always returned with a vengeance.

A soft rustle from the bed beside him caught his attention. Leon turned his head to see you, your eyes filled with concern.

"Leon, are you okay?" You spoke in a hushed, soothing tone.

He sighed, his voice trembling. "Just a nightmare, but it felt so real."

You scooted closer, your fingers reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Tell me about it. It might help."

Leon hesitated for a moment. But after so many months of silence, he gave up. He took a deep breath, then started to recount the horrors of his dream, the monsters, the chaos, and the relentless pursuit of survival. As he spoke, your presence provided comfort, grounding him in the real world.

When he had finished, you offered a reassuring smile. "You're safe now, Leon. Raccoon City is gone, and we're here together."

He gazed into your eyes, finding solace in the warmth and kindness he saw there. Your hand slid into his, fingers entwining as you two lay side by side.

"Thank you," he whispered, his heart slowing its panicked rhythm.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, reassuring kiss in his forehead. As they pulled away, you murmured, "Now, try to get some rest. I'll be right here if you need me."

Leon nodded, closing his eyes, and as the remnants of his nightmare faded, he realized that the presence of you he was starting to like the help he needed to heal.

The training finally ended.

Now, you were officially a government agent, ready to serve.

After six months of pure stress, you finally ended your training. The ceremony was exactly like you imagined. But, for some reason, you weren't that happy. It was like you were missing something — or someone.

You found him after the celebration party. And he was so beautiful.

"Congrats, Agent Kennedy" You smiled at him, shaking his hands.

"Congrats to you too" he blushed a little. "I guess... I never properly thanked you... for everything"

"You don't need to thank me. You needed a friend" you said, your face blushing as well.

"Can I at least take you on a date or something?" Leon asked, and then he avoided your eyes. He was tense.

"Yes" you nodded, feeling your heart skip several beats.

And then, to your surprise, Leon kissed you. Right there, in front of everyone else. He didn't care about Krauser, the bullying, and the punishment he went through. When his lips met yours, he felt he was doing the right thing.

You both knew that you wouldn't see each other soon.

He needed to enjoy that moment. He needed you, at least one time.

You've seen his scars. You were there for him. You were exactly what he needed.

#leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #leon fluff #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon scott kennedy fluff #leon re2 #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy

[the-modern-typewriter]

Encouragement: your prose has such a physical, tangible element that is so rare and immersive and incredible! Your descriptions don’t just feel real, they make me feel like I am real inside the story (if that makes any sense haha). Thanks for sharing your talent so generously!

Prompt request: a sword fight between the protagonist and antagonist, including all the witty banter and sexual tension, that ends with the protagonist on their knees, sword under their chin, pretending not to be terrified - and whatever you think should come next :)

"It's been a while since we've done this," the antagonist murmured. Their intent gaze tracked every step, every breath, that the protagonist made around them on the arena sand. "I was starting to think I wouldn't get the pleasure again."

"You like being cut to ribbons and knocked on your arse, sire?"

"Well, you do it beautifully." The cruel monarch's eyes gleamed in the sun. "What can I say? It's inspiring."

It wasn't what the protagonist had expected. The last time the protagonist had challenged them and won - bargaining for the safety of their entire village - the antagonist had been livid. They'd never lost before.

There was no lie in the antagonist's eyes though. Only a strange admiration that made something in the protagonist's stomach bottom out.

The antagonist lunged in the brief distraction that comment caused.

The protagonist parried just in time - then they were off. The air rang with the clash of their swords, with the sound of their panting breaths and pounding hearts.

The crowd roared hungry behind it all. It was a long-awaited rematch after all. A talented tyrant and the only upstart to ever beat them on the field. A nobody.

The protagonist was swiftly made aware of the fact that the antagonist had vastly improved since their last match. Everything about them was sharpened to a deadly purpose. The protagonist's heartbeat quickened.

It struck them, for the first time, that they might not win again.

They paused many minutes later with both of their blades locked in place, their faces inches apart. Sweat stung the protagonist's eyes.

The antagonist grinned. "As I said, inspiring. I'm so glad you came back."

"You made it hard not to."

"You made it hard not to spend the last three years thinking about you."

The protagonist swallowed.

The improvement was impressive. The antagonist was as gorgeous to watch in action as they were horrifying to fight against.

"You're still not winning," the protagonist said. "Go back and train for another three years. Then, maybe."

"Your arms are trembling."

The protagonist wrenched back, at that, and lunged anew. The problem was that their arms were shaky with the effort of blocking and evading the antagonist's blows.

The two of them had always had different styles. The protagonist was fast, light on their feet. They'd mostly trained for multiple opponents. The antagonist had trained for this. They were far stronger than the protagonist was in the force of their blows. Before, they'd been much slower. Now, they were still slower - but only just. There was no respite.

The longer it dragged on, the more the fight tipped into the antagonist's favour. The protagonist had always won by dispatching their opponents as swiftly as possible, but the antagonist was a siege weapon. They didn't even seem tired.

"Would you like to get on your knees for me now," the antagonist asked, "or would you like me to knock you to them? I don't mind either way, when it's you."

The protagonist snarled, too breathless for words.

They'd managed to draw first blood, just like last time, but since then...

The antagonist tipped their head, a mocking incline of acknowledgement. Then they were bearing on the protagonist again.

The protagonist didn't remember hitting their knees, some time later. They were too concerned with their sword wrenching out of their hand, landing out of reach, for the dull pain of it to register.

Cold, unyielding metal pressed cold against the flushed skin at their throat.

The protagonist finally went still. They had one hand planted on the sand to catch themselves, head bowed where they'd frozen. Beneath the cover of their hair, their gaze flicked around desperately for an angle they could use.

Could they tackle the antagonist's legs? Make a dash for their blade again? A grab for the antagonist's sword instead?

Not with that blade held so firmly, so confident, against their jugular.

The antagonist nudged the sword up against the protagonist's chin. The protagonist tipped their head back up, careful not to make any sudden moves.

"Hands behind your head," the antagonist said.

The protagonist met their eyes, then slowly did as they were told. Their chest heaved.

The crowd, for all of their baying racket, felt distant. Inconsequential.

Nobody would challenge the antagonist if they slit the protagonist's neck. They probably wouldn't even be surprised. Fear licked up the protagonist's spine.

"Tell me you surrender," the antagonist said, softly.

"I don't."

"You don't want to do this nicely?"

The protagonist said nothing.

"Tell me I'm a better fighter," the antagonist said. "Tell me I'm the best you've ever fought."

They absolutely were the best the protagonist had fought in a very long time, but that was also absolutely besides the point.

"We've both won one." The protagonist's jaw clenched. "We'd have to go a third round to decide that."

"Mm." Something shifted on the antagonist's face, there and gone in an instant. "By all means. Can you get up?" They tapped the protagonist's chin with the sword again, that time breaking skin. The protagonist felt blood trickle down their neck.

The protagonist started to rise. They crumpled just as quickly, with a startled hitch of breath. Their tired legs abruptly felt like jelly. They'd no idea how they'd got so exhausted. They-

"Your blade," the protagonist said, in accusing disbelief. "What did you-?" The antagonist's talent was by no means fake, but they'd also clearly had no intention of leaving a rematch and their reputation to chance. Their blade, and the thin cut on the protagonist's neck, was tainted by something.

"Oh dear oh dear," the antagonist said. "It seems you've pushed yourself too far. You should have yielded with dignity."

"Bastard."

"Surrender."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll give you enough of a dose that you can never pick up a sword with those impressive hands again. I respect you greatly. You will give me the respect I deserve in return."

The protagonist stared at them. They shouldn't have been stunned. They knew the antagonist's reputation.

The smirk had vanished from the antagonist's face. So had the flirting, if it could be called that.

"I surrender," the protagonist said. Their vision hazed.

The antagonist dropped the blade from the protagonist's throat, sheafed their sword, and offered a hand.

With everyone watching, the protagonist took it.

The antagonist hauled them up. The protagonist's vision tunneled.

"Good match," the antagonist said, sounding sincere. "You really are incredible." They yanked the protagonist in close, to press their lips to the protagonist's ear. "If you can walk out of this arena without collapsing, I'll even let you go. I just had to prove I could win, you see. People talk. They get ideas."

The protagonist made a small, involuntarily strangled sound.

The antagonist's thumb caressed their racing pulse. "My god, though." Their voice dropped. "You look even more enticing than I imagined beaten. You really shouldn't have been interesting. I thought you'd cave like everyone does."

The antagonist clapped their shoulder and stepped back, beaming.

The protagonist made it all of three, stubborn steps before they hit the dust.

#sword fighting #antagonists #antagonist x protagonist #protagonists and antagonists #writing #short story #fiction #sword fight #enemies

[wonton4rang]

A strawberry for two !¡

pairing: bnd legal line X gn!reader

warnings: suggestive behaviour, kissing, making out, graphic description of touching, some smut. and I think that's about it.

summary: how would boynextdoor (legal line - everyone but woonhak) react when you ask them for a bite of their strawberry.

sungho; at first he would be normal, passing you a different strawberry from the plate until he notices the way you shyly pout and take it in slow motion, not wanting to show your disappointment with the outcome. but your boyfriend is a smart boy, he quickly picks up what you wanted: a bite of his strawberry. he laughs at your now pouty lips and the way the strawberry accommodates in your right cheek when you took it in your mouth, he grinned before taking another one and getting close to you, putting the strawberry in between his teeth and signaling your now shocked face to take a bite. which you eagerly did right away, he just laughed at your blushed cheeks when you pulled away after touching his lips. "If this is what you wanted you could've told me, baby. I am always willing to share my lips, and my strawberries with you" You certainly had the best boyfie :((

jaehyun; he would think he's misreading the situation. the fact that you are straddled in his lap, your hands in his shoulders and your eyes dark did not give him the enough assurance that you wanted what he thought you wanted. fun fact, you did. so when you felt that he was not going to do anything, you did it yourself, taking a strawberry with your fingers and pushing it pass his lips, the boy just attentively looking at you with pretty big eyes and cheeks flushed when you leaned forward and took half of the fruit from him, he took the other half and it did not take him two seconds to put a hand in the back of your neck and smack your lips together. he was sloppy, his tongue entering your mouth when you moaned at the aggressiveness he took you with. "y/n, you can't just make me feel hot like this, now we have a problem" he whispered to you, his face red and his voice so low and sweet because he was so ashamed of the boner you could feel under your clothed heat. spoiler: you guys fucked.

riwoo; I feel like he would understand but refuse to do so because he knows how he is, and he knows how you are, so sharing a strawberry like that was not going to do any good on him. yet here he was, both of your hands cupping his warm face, the tips of his ears slightly red and a smile on his lips that made his eyes turn into two little crescent moons. "you look so pretty, y/n" he would whisper before giving you a peck, the excitement building up when you hummed back and took the strawberry to place it on your lips. and damn was riwoo weak, he couldn't physically or mentally deny you anything so he just leaned forward and closed his eyes before taking a bite at the fruit, the acid flavor made him cringe and his own hands came up to hold your face. and trust me, the strawberry was long gone into the kiss y'all got into, hands touching everywhere and the little plate with the berries forgotten in the kitchen table while you guys cuddled and kissed in his bedroom :')

taesan; he might not be into it right away, he may look at you and raise his eyebrows up before asking "what's the point of that?" it's not that he wouldn't do it, he just doesn't understand the hype about it and that's fine!! cause babyboy is doing it regardless. and oh, let me tell you, he loved it. the way it felt so personal when you got close to him, the way he could feel your breath against his mouth, the way you took the berry into your lips and smiled shyly while chewing it. he is sooooo in love, and so hot. I don't think taesan is a highly sex drived person, I see him more into chatting quietly about your day, hugging in bed or even kissing softly with some background music, but when I tell you I see him going all out in you after this, I mean it. he would go crazy, your tinted lips making something on him twitch and his hands were already grabbing your face, a really messy make out session starting in the kitchen counter and finishing on his bed, your legs open and wrapped around his hips while he fucks you slowly yet so hard that you can barely feel your legs afterwards. "I kinda see the point now, y/n" he would whisper before kissing the side of your head and cuddle you until the next morning.

leehan; he's just a bitch. that's it. he knows he's hot, he knows what you like, he knows the whole drill with sharing a strawberry and he will not go easy on you. why would he? you are asking him to do something because you think your boyfriend is hot and you want some intimacy. I can tell that he would just grin, smiling shorty before licking his lips and chuckling when you stared at the action. "if you need some release you can tell me" but you refused, saying it was just something you saw in tiktok and that you wanted to try it, and well, he would've fucked you good if that was what you wanted but now that you said no to him he was just going to tease the shit out of you during your little "a strawberry for two" game. but no worries, he might show mercy on you and give you a nice and deep fuck. someday, eventually.

#boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor smut #taesan smut #leehan smut #taesan x reader #leehan x reader #riwoo smut #riwoo x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #sungho smut #sungho x reader