#I'm already 200 words above....

[esr10]

I still need to write another paragraph and a conclusion to my essay and I'm definitely not going to be able to keep the word count limit...

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[aetherdoesthings]

a proposition... (MINORS DNI!!!)

forethoughts: as a thank you for 200, here's a little thing i wrote to my beloved arlecchino :> also due to circumstances in life right now, i'm gonna be offline for a while, but i promise y'all i will return 😤

notes: fem!reader, dom!arlecchino, sub!reader, reader calling arlecchino mistress

“Just a minute, beloved. Then you can have me for the rest of the night.” You let out a frustrated grunt at your girlfriend’s sentence, pouting your lips and glaring at her with your best puppy eyes. Arlecchino continued to work at her desk, filling out various paperwork without sparing you a look. Your girlfriend was cruel, even to you, her favorite person in the whole world. She knew how whiny you would get when you didn’t get what you wanted, and right now, you wanted nothing but for her to turn your legs into jelly and leave you breathless as the sun woke up. While she still wore her Harbinger outfit, you had already stripped down to your silk robe that was Pandora’s box to the Harbinger.

Arlecchino didn’t even need to look at you to see those puppy eyes and pout you always gave her, letting out a little chuckle, a thin smile breaking her stoic expression. “You should know by now, beloved, that face, while turning you into the most adorable doll in the world, does not work on me. I promise I will be done in a minute.”

You genuinely frowned at her statement. You hopped off her desk, moving her hands as you straddled her lap, her legs in between yours. You wrapped your hands around her neck, looking at Arlecchino in her eyes. Arlecchino returned your look, raising an eyebrow and letting out a scoff before continuing to work over your shoulders. She was already used to your attempts to pull her away from her desk and into your shared bed; this was no different from your hundreds of other attempts.

Ideas of how to charm your girlfriend flooded your head, but unfortunately you had already tried them all. Some of them flooded your stomach with warmth, that cord in your lower regions starting to curl up as you gave in to your carnal thoughts, a smile on your face.

“My, my, my love.” Arlecchino’s words pulled you back to reality. You could no longer hear her quill scribble onto paper, but just the sound of you humping the Harbinger’s leg absentmindedly. You immediately stopped your actions when you heard the sound, your cheeks flushed red when you saw the damage done to the Harbinger’s thigh. Arlecchino let out a low chuckle as a response, her fingers brushing your hair back and behind your ear. Her other hand held onto your chin, forcing you to look at her in the eyes. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Never learnt how to control those carnal desires of yours, hmn?”

You blushed at your girlfriend’s words, feigning an innocent smile as you bore into those crimson crosses with round eyes. “Arle makes me really really happy.” “Do I now?” Arlecchino mused, her claw-like fingers running across your jaw as she cupped your face. “I thought I taught you how to control those desires of yours, my little slut. But you just can’t control it, can’t you? Of course, I did not expect much from someone so needy for my touch to listen to my words.” 

Arlecchino feigned disappointment, scoffing at you and shaking her head, but you knew she wasn’t really disappointed or disgusted by you by that sinister glimmer in her eyes that promised you the keys to unlocking all those fantasies in your head. Arlecchino stood up, placing you in her chair as she walked away, grabbing something from that cabinet that had a lock in it. She procured your favorite strap on, with the clear eight inch phallic object in her hand. Arlecchino swiftly secured it onto her body, spreading a generous amount of lube on the dildo before making her way back to you. She lifted your body up with strength no human would have, positioning your body right above the dildo, your face facing hers. Arlecchino gave you a nod of approval as you let out a breathy ‘thank you’, sinking yourself onto the phallic object as it entered your cunt, filling your un-stretched walls with an unspeakable euphoric feeling with that one movement. You didn’t even notice your robe was undone when you felt Arlecchino’s fingers grab your waist, curling in ever so gently into your flesh as you let out a whine. Her hands stopped you from enacting on your wants, keeping you frustrated and terribly horny.

“I have a proposition for you, dear.” Arlecchino hummed, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your ears pricked up at her words. 

“I have a very important phone call I must make in a few seconds. While I am on that call, you are to continue fucking yourself on my cock. No cumming either.” “Arle! That’s not fair! I’m gonna cum!” You protested, only to be met with a slap on your face, her hand pulling your chin back to face her. She bunched up your hair and swooped it over to one side, leaning closer to your neck as she bit onto your skin, sucking onto the blood that poured out like a vampire. You squealed at her sudden bite, but your screams were blocked by the hand that snaked around your mouth.

“Then you better hold it in, darling, otherwise the punishment will not be ideal for you at all. So are you going to behave for me, darling?” Arlecchino released her other hand from your waist, as you started to rock yourself against the dildo, letting yourself succumb to the pleasure you craved for. 

“Y-Yes..” You stammered, holding back a moan as Arlecchino began to rock her hips as well, matching your rhythm, making the intensity even higher and harder to resist.

“Yes what?”

“Yes M-Mistress…”

Arlecchino grinned. “Good girl.” 

She picked up the phone, dialing a number you didn’t recognize. A satisfactory and devilish grin crept onto her face when her intended recipient picked up.

“Good evening, Tartaglia. Do you have twenty or so minutes to discuss various things?”

Oh, fuck.

Of course she chose the chatterbox.

Ten minutes in and you were already quivering, your body numb and overridden with euphoria that you had to let go, but couldn’t. Arlecchino didn’t make this any easier for you either. Everytime you slow down just a fraction of your rocking against her cock, she’d press her fingers into your waist, prompting you to speed up before you’d start to bleed out. If you let out a squeal or a moan, she’d grab onto your waist and use her own strength to thrust you down and make you stay still until she’d give you the go-ahead to continue fucking yourself. It became a cycle of trying not to cum and moan at the same time, until you were so frustrated tears began to fall from your face. 

Arlecchino noticed the teardrops falling onto her shoulder, and through your teary and pleasure filled eyes you swore you saw worry flicker in those crosses.

“I have no more questions, Tartaglia. Farewell.” Arlecchino dropped the telephone, hanging up on the other Harbinger as she cupped your cheek, using her thumb to wipe your tears away.

“Shhh…. Shhh., we’re done, now, babygirl.” Arlecchino cooed, kissing the area she bit. “You did so well for me. I’m so proud of you.”

The words alone could’ve made you come undone right then and there. But good girls always ask for permission first.

“M-Mistress… w-wanna…” You sobbed, your rocking starting to get weaker and weaker, the rope inside of you just a few strands away from breaking and unleashing all the frustration inside of you.

“Shhh… go ahead, babygirl. Come for me.” Arlecchino grabbed your waist, lifting your fragile body up as she thrusted into your pussy, howls and cries erupting from your mouth. Your cunt was already hollowed out by the time Arlecchino had finished her call, but once she began thrusting upwards and pushing you down, turned you into liquid putty for Arlecchino to mold everytime your skin hit her pants.  The rope in your core finally snapped when Arlecchino placed a single finger on that hardened, ignored and needy clit of yours. You threw your head back, arching your back until it formed a semi circle as the floodgates burst open. Arlecchino wrapped her hand around your mouth to silence your scream as your body spasms over hers, coming undone, flooding and ruining her pants, but she could care less. Arlecchino fucks you through your high, the aftershock, and until you came down from your high. She pulled the dildo out from your sensitive cunt, whispering praise into your ear as she wrapped her arms around you, coddling you like a baby.

“You did so good for me, babygirl. I’m so, so, so very proud of you.” Arlecchino whispered, planting tiny kisses all over your skin. She let out a chuckle as she surveyed the damage done. “It appears I will need to buy new pants.”

You look down at the mess you made, as your cheeks flushed red. “I’m sorry…”

“Nonsense.” Arlecchino tapped your nose with her index finger, smiling at you. It was a smile that held no ulterior motives, a smile that only reminded you of the warmth of a fire and reassured you that everything was going to be okay. “Come. Let’s get you and me all cleaned up and ready for bed, hmn? The Iudex is a patient man; he can wait until next morning for his paperwork to be filled out.”

[aniesvision]

𝟐𝟎- 𝑷𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌

𐂃 𝚋𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚡 𝚐𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇?, 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒉𝒆, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 (𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒆, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍), 𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒊 𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄, 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 (𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈), 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 ��𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌

-What do you want? -Matt asks, softly, looking at the menu.

I hum for a second, thinking and deciding between all ice cream flavors before answering.

-I think I'll go with chocolate mint. -I put the menu down, resting my head on my palms.

He just nodded, raising his hand so the waiter would come and take our orders. After a few minutes, we ended up eating them, updating each other on what happened these last days. It's been only a week, but we seem to always find topics to talk about when we're together.

-It's on me. -Matt warns me before paying for our ice creams.

I only smiled, grateful, waiting for him to pay so we could leave for our next destination. We walk hand in hand down the street, passing through some stores, and pointing at things we find interesting.

-Uh, look at this dress, it's so pretty. -I say, stopping by a showcase to admire the dress.

Matt looks at me with a tiny smile, dropping my hand to pass his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer.

-Go try it. -He says, kissing the top of my head.

-Are you crazy? -I look at him, pointing at the price. -It's like $200, I don't even have all that money.

He rolls his eyes with a smirk, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to the store.

-I'll pay for it, just go get it and try it on. -He insists, my eyes going wide.

Matt has this stupid habit of wanting to pay for everything, I tried talking to him about it before so he'd stop, but he kept saying he likes to "see me happy" so he'll keep buying me things.

-Matt, no, you don't have to, it's expensive, I don't need it. -I try to refuse, turning around to look at him.

-But you want it, and I want to make my girl happy. -He smiles at me, cupping my cheeks gently.

I feel my heart warming up at his words, my eyes almost shining in gratitude.

-Are you sure? -I bite my lips in anticipation, interlocking our fingers.

-Yes, I'm sure. -He chuckles, nodding his head in affirmation.

That was the second thing he insisted on paying for me today, and it wasn't the last. He decided to pay me a new pair of earrings, lip gloss, skincare products, donuts, and a bracelet. When we were about to leave, I offered to pay for the gas considering we drove a long way from his home to this neighborhood just to get out of the house a little.

-I got it, babe, don't worry. -He shoves my offer down, again, making me frustrated.

Paying for one thing or two it's alright, but everything? It's frustrating.

-Matt, please, you paid for everything today, lemme paid for something.

He looked at me and I could almost see the light above his head, I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering what he was thinking.

-You can pay me back. -He says, stopping by an abandoned parking lot.

Since it was already dark outside the traffic wasn't so bad so the streets were almost empty.

-Matt, what are you doing? -I ask, confused, watching as he pushes his seat back.

-You wanted to pay for something, didn't you? C'mon, you'll pay for everything.

His words carried a second intention that he wasn't trying to hide, his eyes staring at me intently as his hands unbuttoned his jeans. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips when he noticed me biting my lips. Well, who am I to deny it, right? He was so kind, paying for everything.

I help him slide his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, freeing his hardness that jumped out of the clothes like the fabric was painful.

I keep eye contact as I lower my body and wrap my hand around his dick, feeling it twitching. He sighed, grabbing my hair and keeping it out of my face so he could look at me while I went down on him. I used my tongue to tease him first, swirling it around his tip and slowly taking him in my mouth until he was hitting my throat.

-Fuck, sweetheart, just like that. -He groans, pushing my head down.

I bob my head on him, keeping a slow pace at first, using my hand to stimulate his balls. His sounds only encouraged me to keep going, loving to see how good he was feeling. We're not usually fans of doing anything sexual in public spaces, so this was different and exciting.

Matt started to thrust his hips up, making me gag a few times. I wanted him to use me so he could feel the best as possible, he probably wanted this all day if he decided to do this in his car in the middle of nowhere.

-Shit, keep going, gonna let me finish in your mouth? -He hisses, looking down at me with a smirk that could make me do anything for him.

I hum in response, swirling my tongue around and wrapping my hand around him to stroke what I could no longer fit. I feel him twitching inside my mouth, indicating he was close, and his hips moving faster with his moans in the background only showing he was about to cum.

I let him guide my pace and not even a minute later he was filling my mouth with his warm seed.

-Yeah, just like that, take all of me, good girl. -He praised.

I pull away, swallowing all and wiping my mouth and chin. He looked so good all fucked out like that, I couldn't help but pull him into a kiss. When we stop to catch our breaths we start laughing, noticing how crazy it was for us to do what we just did.

-I love you. -He whispers, putting his clothes back on.

-I love you too. All paid? -I ask, joking, adjusting myself on my seat.

-All paid, sweetheart. -He laughs, going back on driving to his house again.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700 @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sophsturns @sturnsxbitvh

[defectivevillain]

those who fall

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “What’s your name?” You ask your companion. “Hannibal,” he responds. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. “Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile.

word count: 3k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, death, suicide, cannibalism, gore, suicidal ideation/self-harm. Emphasis on the cannibalism — both willing and non-consensual cannibalism. Mentions of throwing up/vomiting.

author's notes: Happy spooky pride! (I'm being told it's also called Halloween...? Weird.) Here’s a really fucked up fic. :3

If y’all haven’t watched The Platform, here’s the trailer, which should explain things. I’ve also attempted to write an explanation, but it’s long and bad. Here it is anyways, in case you don’t want to watch the trailer:

There is a vertical prison system that stretches more than 300 levels down. Each floor houses two people, and there’s a large hole in the middle to accommodate a table. Each day, a single table starts at Floor 0 and makes a stop at each floor. The table is loaded with a ton of dishes for a large and extravagant meal. Floor 1 gets the table for a short time before it drops to Floor 2. So on and so forth. People aren’t allowed to take things from the table to save for later, so it’s a scramble to eat enough to keep them nourished until the next day. They’re all eating from the same table, so as the floors get lower, there’s less and less food left. Inhabitants stay on their floor for one month, before they’re exposed to gas and moved to a different floor for another month. Basically, the lower the floor, the less likely you’ll be to get any food. In theory, if each person ate only their own ration, the food might last. But some people are greedy, wasteful, etc... A floor below 100 is virtually a death sentence, because that means 200 people pick at the food before you get to.

heed the warnings listed above before reading!

You wake up, blinking away the traces of a gas-induced sleep. It’s the beginning of the month, which means you’ve been transported to another floor in the facility. Groaning, you blink blearily, only to find someone staring down at you. You flinch and get up, hoping he’ll move away. But he continues looming over you, looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“You must be my new roommate,” he says emotionlessly. 

“How’d you wake up so fast?” You respond, squinting at the daylight seeping through the room. Typically, the gas is strong enough to leave you knocked out for at least twelve hours. But this man is already awake, and there’s no telling how long he’s been standing before you, watching you. The thought unnerves you. 

He just shrugs in lieu of a response to your question. You take a deep breath and turn towards the far wall, dread coiling in your chest as your eyes find the number of the floor you’re on: 139. Fuck. You’ve never been this low before. You had the 76th floor last month and the 23rd the month before that, then 87, 6, and 53. You had no idea the floors went down past 100; all you knew was that you’d be getting a new roommate this month, in light of your past roommate’s death. 

Floor 139 is practically a death sentence. You’d normally be able to fast thirty days, but you spent all of last month fasting at Floor 76. (You didn’t have much of a choice, as the food never made it down to you in the first place.) You push yourself to your feet and walk near the center of the space, glancing down only to find more floors stretching down as far as the eye can see. There are dozens—maybe hundreds—of people beneath you. You want to throw up. 

“You look frightened,” your new roommate remarks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. You glance at him, unable to hide your irritation. 

“Of course I am,” you snap, beginning to pace around the edge of the hole in the floor. “The food will never make it down this far.” 

“How do you know?” He hums. There’s a knowing smile on his face, as if he wants you to concede and utter the words aloud. 

“The food didn’t even make it down to level 87,” you recall, shaking your head as you try to fight off memories of an aching stomach and a debilitating weakness anchoring you to your bed. “And we’re fifty-two levels beneath that.” 

Silence. You swallow hard and try to maintain your composure. Panicking won’t do you any good.  And you definitely don’t trust this stranger enough to show him any sort of emotional vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek and think for several minutes. “What’s your name?” You later ask your companion. 

“Hannibal,” he responds. He takes another step backwards and light falls on his face, revealing a chiseled facial structure, brown-grey hair, and glimmering brown eyes. The man doesn’t look the slightest bit malnourished, despite your predicament. Either he’s new here, or he’s been able to keep his hunger satiated. 

“Hannibal,” you repeat, taking note of his vaguely European accent. “That’s a strange name.” Hannibal just blinks. The man looks almost expressionless, but you can see a hint of irritation at the edges of his faux smile. 

“How’d you lose your roommate?” You continue determinedly, desperate for some information on this guy. Something about him unsettles you. It must be the unbothered way with which he analyzes your surroundings, as if you hadn’t both just been given a finite expiration date.  

Hannibal studies you for a long moment. “You don’t want the answer to that question.” He eventually answers. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

“You killed them,” you realize aloud. 

“And ate them,” he confirms casually. Your heart starts thudding quickly in your chest. You pretend not to be affected by his confession. Internally, you’re scared for your life. To think that you’d survived months of starvation, only to die at the hands of another human? “What happened to your roommate?” Hannibal continues, before you can truly collect your thoughts. 

“They jumped.” You remember to say, the taste of bile climbing up your throat. There’s no need for further explanation. 

“Ah.” A tense quiet descends on the air once more, and the two of you spend the seemingly countless hours before the table’s arrival in silence. 

When you finally hear the telltale whirring of the table above, your stomach growls. You need food rather desperately—especially after not receiving any legitimate nutrition last month. Your hands are shaky; your vision is blurry; and your legs feel as if they’ll cave in at any moment. 

The glassware rattles and the table sinks down to your floor. Hannibal and you both look at the remnants of the meal from above, only to find plates licked clean and glasses entirely empty. As you expected, there is nothing left for you to eat: not even a crumb or bone. 

There is, however, a man crouched on the table. He stares ahead with blank eyes, as if he doesn’t even see either of you. You look at him for a few moments, immediately promising yourself not to get any closer. In this place, vulnerability is weakness. You’ve seen it happen before: someone will extend a helpful hand to another person, only to be stabbed through the back in the same breath. There is no saving anyone here. You are all destined for death, regardless of when it may come. 

Hannibal regards the new arrival for several seconds, before quickly reaching out and grabbing his collar, yanking him off the table and onto the pavement. You watch in disbelief as Hannibal brandishes a knife—when in the hell did he get that?—and stabs him several times. Your roommate’s ferocity ensures the man’s death. Calmly, Hannibal drags the corpse by the ankles until it’s closer to the walls. 

Then, he sinks his knife into the body’s skin. The victim, unsurprisingly, doesn’t so much as flinch. The knife pierces the skin of his chest and Hannibal sinks his hand into the cavity, gripping the entrails and pulling them out with practiced precision. He gets to his feet, holding the liver in his hand. You watch in silent horror as his head turns and his gaze finds you, his eyes trained on you even as he raises the organ to his mouth and begins eating. 

Your stomach turns in disgust and revulsion. You’ve survived months of fasting—you never ate another human, despite the earsplitting screams from above and below indicating that several other inhabitants did. Even though you know you need to eat, the thought of tearing into that corpse is enough to make your appetite disappear. You quickly turn your head and clamp a hand over your mouth, before raising it to cover both your nose and mouth. The scent is enough to make you nearly hurl. You close your eyes and pretend you’re somewhere else—anywhere else, but trapped on this floor with a cannibal. 

Your ears are ringing at the confirmation that Hannibal is a seasoned killer. This was not his first kill, and it likely won’t be his last. There is a very good chance you’ll be his next meal. Fear pulsing through your veins, you manage to pull your knees close to your chest and close your eyes. The cool metal of your lighter grounds you to this horrible moment, this stiff and unfeeling air. 

If you had known just what horrors you would be subjected to, you would’ve chosen a different object to bring. Maybe you would’ve even chosen a weapon to protect yourself or a form of entertainment. But your naive self chose a lighter—not even for smoking, but just to watch the flickering flame. Your finger now twitches to bring the flame to your skin, but you resist the urge. There is enough pain and suffering here without your own self-inflicted torture. 

It is hard to sleep that night. Your thoughts are buzzing too loudly. It takes a while for your eyelids to slip shut, and once the table comes rocketing by, you shudder awake and have to fall asleep once more. When you finally succumb to slumber, your dreams are distorted and cryptic. 

The weird sensation of something in your mouth pulls you from slumber. You open your eyes to find Hannibal standing over you, the crimson light casting shadows across his face. You instinctively want to belch at the foreign material, but Hannibal’s hand is secured firmly over your mouth. You immediately catch on to what he’s doing: he’s feeding you some of the corpse’s meat. 

You try to fight back—attempting to shove him off—but his grip is too strong and you’re weakened by hunger and lack of sleep. You’re forced to chew, unless you want to choke and die. A shudder runs through your entire body as you chew, disgusted with the texture. The taste of iron and copper runs through your mouth; the smell alone is enough to make you gag. After what feels like far too long, you manage to swallow. 

Satisfied, Hannibal steps away—and you immediately fall off your bed and to the floor, stumbling to the sink to drink some water and flush the organ down. “Fuck you,” you spit at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It comes back bloody, and you take extra effort to scrub your face clean. Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected by the insult. Rather, he’s wearing an understanding smile on his face—and you’re growing more and more overtaken with the urge to punch that look off his face. You clench the faucet with an increasingly tight grip, until there are bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. 

“You will thank me soon,” Hannibal remarks, staring at you. You can see his heated gaze in the cracked mirror before you. It’s clear what he’s trying to say: if you don’t eat, you will die.  

“I won’t,” you say numbly, your heart roaring in your ears. “You should’ve left me alone.” Your voice breaks at the end of that sentence; if Hannibal notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he only looks at you imploringly. 

“You need proper nourishment.” Hannibal maintains. 

You hiss and walk back to your bed, turning to the side so you don’t have to look at him. You’re not foolish enough to turn your back on him—not when you know just what he can do. You don’t want to indulge his murderous sensibilities. You spend the rest of the day split between seething and suppressing the urge to throw up.

When night falls, Hannibal goes to sleep. You only pretend. When you hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you push yourself up quietly and sit on your bed. You will not fall asleep tonight. You don’t want a repeat of last night. 

Despite your quiet movements, it doesn’t take Hannibal long to notice that you’ve shifted. “You’re not sleeping,” he says aloud, admittedly startling you as the uneasy silence across the space is broken. When you comprehend his remark, you can’t stop the wry laugh that falls from your lips. 

“I don’t trust you,” you respond candidly. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.  

Hannibal lets out a strange noise. It takes you a few moments to realize that he’s just laughing. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already,” he then says. “You are… the least insufferable of my companions so far.”

You blink in the near darkness. “Thanks.” You say dryly. That statement isn’t reassuring in the slightest. You don’t want to wake up to find him forcing organs down your throat again. The thought sends a renewed wave of nausea through you, and it takes you several moments of measured breathing to fight it off. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. You can only fight off the exhaustion for so long, and if you’re not eating, then you definitely need to be resting to conserve energy. 

You wake the next morning breathing hard, expecting to see Hannibal looming over you. But he’s only sitting on his bed, regarding you with a blandly amused look. It appears he won’t be forcing you to consume human entrails again. 

But little do you know, Hannibal doesn’t have to force you next time. 

It’s been sixteen days since that horrible night. Sixteen days without food. Your body has grown incredibly weak. You can barely push yourself up to get to the faucet across the room. Speaking takes too much energy. Most of the time, you just lie on your bed and stare at some point in the distance, losing yourself in memories long gone. 

You can’t find the energy to waste on getting angry. Instead, you’re just… empty. The movement of the table is the only thing that helps you discern the time. The corpse Hannibal took all those days ago has since become a rotted pile. Neither of you have seen anything resembling food on the table. The people above are merciless. They eat the rations of several people; they spit on everything in reach. 

You don’t bother to look up at the table’s arrival today. There will be nothing for you to eat. And indeed, when you finally drag your eyes over, there is only glassware and silverware… scattered around a person in the center. They sit cross-legged and stare ahead with that similar unseeing expression from the man all those days ago. 

You don’t need to watch to know what happens next: Hannibal drags them onto the pavement, brandishes his knife, and kills them. He dissects them with the mercy of a disinterested scientist, before sparing you a simple look. There’s a single drop of blood carving a path down his lips. Hannibal wipes it away. 

You extend a hand wordlessly. 

Hannibal stares at you, a complex emotion passing over his face as quick as lightning. He places a bloodied chunk in your palm. The crimson stain spreads across your skin. You look down at it and feel… nothing. There’s an echo of disgust and horror, perhaps. But beyond that, you’re an empty shell. This place has changed you. Emotions do not survive here—instinct does. And your instincts tell you that you need food. 

Minutes later, the gnawing pain in your stomach has subsided and there’s the horrifically familiar taste of iron settling on your tongue. You swallow hard and slowly push yourself to your feet, mechanically walking over to the sink and getting some water to wash it all down. Your hands are shaking but you manage to satisfy your thirst. Turning the faucet off with shaking hands, you lean against the wall and sink down into a sitting position. 

There’s dried blood on your hands. It doesn’t matter that you washed it away—you can still see it. It haunts you, even when the night arrives and the floor is drenched in crimson light. You’ve since migrated to your bed, but you can’t get yourself to move from your sitting position and lie down. You can’t give yourself comfort. You don’t deserve it—not after what you’ve done. 

You’re not sure how long you sit silently, watching the darkness settle and fade into a dusky light. There’s a persistent pain in your back and your cuticles are picked open, yet these sensations fade to obscurity when you remember the meal you just willingly consumed. You had no choice seventeen days ago. You can’t say the same for yesterday.

There’s an uncomfortable wetness clinging to your cheeks and eyelashes. You’re crying, you realize. It’s been a while since you’ve cried, even with all the horrors you’ve witnessed here. You shakily wipe at your tears, but they keep falling. Falling prey to the burning in your throat, you bury your head in your bent knees and struggle for breath. 

At some point, there’s a hand on your back. You’re so exhausted that you don’t even flinch, because you can’t seem to muster up the energy. Your body is wracked with chills and phantom shivers as you try to comprehend just who is offering you comfort. The same person who kills others with ease and feasts on their remains… is wrapping an arm around your shoulders and sitting on your bed next to you. 

You don’t have the strength to push Hannibal away. You lack the strength and fortitude to do so. Hannibal is the only human contact you will have, if you continue living. You don’t have a choice—if you want to maintain your sanity, you’re forced to cave into the loneliness screaming behind the confines of your rib cage. That’s what you tell yourself as you reluctantly begin to relax in his hold. You cling to him with increasing desperation. Hannibal’s hand rises to the nape of your neck, cradling your head in what feels like an intimate gesture. 

You can’t stop the sobs crawling out of your throat. 

You want to assign Hannibal the blame. But you know it’s not that simple. He didn’t put you in this prison system; he is nothing more than another participant: one with the courage to keep themself alive, at any cost. Perhaps you should be more like him.

…It’s a chilling thought. 

You have never been so desperate for answers, inside bleak cement walls that give you nothing except more questions. The sparkling silverware; the gleaming glassware; the callous cruelty of those above; the painful plight of those below. There is no solidarity or community amongst the people in these walls: only the concepts of superior and inferior… and the fallen. Those who have been above, have savored without suffering… only fall from grace and stumble into starvation’s relentless grip once more. 

Your tongue recognizes the taste of copper; your hands the crimson stain that becomes a murky brown as time passes. You have fallen. And of one thing, you are certain: you will never rise again.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

hannibal taglist: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan

[willixmsonswife]

rest/leah williamson

*leah williamson x fem!reader *the word 'rest' is simply not included in leah's vocabulary *tiny argument and mentions of her torn acl at the beginning but happy end :)

*2.75k words

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

"I tore my acl." Those were definitely not the words I wanted to hear from Leah when I walked into her room. I had watched her limp off the pitch during the match and I wasn't able to concentrate on the rest of it. I had to wait until she was in the hospital to see her because the security wouldn't let me. "She's my best friend, she needs me!" didn't really change their mind.

So I waited three hours in my apartment, car keys in one hand, phone in the other. I almost dropped my phone when it rang and immediately accepted the call. "Hello?" I tried to hide the worry in my voice but it was still very present. "Hello is this y/n y/l/n?" An unfamiliar voice answered. "Yes, that's me. Who is this?" Maybe it wasn't the call I was expecting. "I'm a nurse at the St. Marys Hospital in London and I'm calling for Leah Williamson. She would've called herself but she has to undergo an MRI at the moment. I'm calling you because your number was marked as the one to call if something happened and I think she really needs someone to be by her side." I felt my heart drop further and further while the nurse talked. Leah had to undergo an MRI by herself and I was probably the only person that knew that she was terrified of those machines. Plus, an MRI was not a good sign for her knee. "Okay, thank you for calling me. I'll be there in 15 minutes." I hung up and just stared at my phone. What if she really tore her acl? What if she couldn't play football for the rest of the year? That would be pure torture for her and it would absolutely destroy her not only physically but mentally. She worked so hard to be selected for the World Cup and wore the captain armband with pride every single time. I had to be there for her through all of it. I stood up and drove to the hospital as fast as I could.

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

"Excuse me? I'm here to see Leah Williamson. A nurse called me earlier saying that-"

"Ah yes, you are miss y/l/n right?"

"Yes, yes that's me."

"Miss Williamson is currently staying in room 204 which is just across the corridor on the right side." She pointed towards the direction and I thanked her before searching for the right room. 200, 202, 204. There it was. I took a deep breath. I had to be calm now, I had to pull myself together for Leah.

I knocked three times and heard her response soon after. "Come in." So I did. The first thing I saw as I entered were her jersey and her shorts, neatly folded on a chair at the other end of the room. I took a few steps towards her bed but she only looked at me when I stood directly next to her. "I tore my acl." Her eyes were bloodshot and I could hear in her voice that she already cried. "Lee, I-"

"No. Please don't say anything. I don't want to hear your encouragements and how everything's going to be fine! It's not! I'm not able to play in Australia and I'm gonna let the whole team down! It's not going to be fine!" Her voice became louder and louder while she talked and she screamed the last sentence. I was well aware that this anger was not directed towards me but more towards the fact that this happened to her, now, and that she couldn't do anything about it. So instead of telling her that, I hugged her tight. I could feel her tense muscles relaxing at my touch and she just gave in to her feelings. "Why did it have to be me? Why now?" She said in between sobs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know Leah, I'm so sorry." I just held her and rubbed her back comfortingly while she cried.

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

This whole situation happened over two months ago. Leah was now past the surgery and had started rehab. It was going well but one thing bothered me extremely. "Leah?" I stopped the episode I was watching and sat up from the sofa. The apartment was completely silent now that the tv had stopped. "Lee?" I went upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door. "Yes?" I opened the door and was met by Leah standing in front of her closet, only dressed in shorts and a bra, holding up a dress and a blazer. My eyes instantly moved from her well trained body to the floor, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable. "Oh hi y/n. What's up?"

"I, eh- I called you from down stairs. Wanted to know what I should make for dinner."

"Oh right. You-" She turned around to face me and saw me looking down, embarrassment unfortunately still clearly written on my face. "You can look at me y'know?"

"Oh, I just- I didn't know if-"

"y/n, we're living together. We're best friends and room mates. I'm absolutely not bothered by you looking at me and it does not make me feel uncomfortable. Trust me." I lifted my head and her piercing blue eyes looked straight into mine. My cheeks immediately turned a bit redder but I tried to ignore it, hoping that she didn't notice. Unknown to me, she did and she wasn't upset about it one bit. "So, dinner. What should I make?"

"Actually, I'm going out this evening. You only have to cook for yourself."

"What? You're going out? Again? With who and where?"

"With Alex, she invited me as her plus one to this event and-"

"Lee you can not possibly be serious right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Leah, you had your surgery two months ago and only started rehab, It's going well, yes, but the doctor still said that you have to take things slow especially going out for so long. You already met up with over ten different people in not even two weeks! You have to rest and give your knee a break, please."

"Oh and you suddenly care about that? So you don't want me to return to my normal life and just have fun with my friends? You want me to stay home and just do nothing apart from the rehab? What great best friend you are!"

I tried my best to stay calm, not wanting to start an argument at this moment.

"That's not what I said and you know that. I just don't want you overwork your knee and set you back in you rehab because we both know that that's the last thing you would want right now. You just have to accept that your life is not the same as before right now but-"

"I know that it's not the same! I had to actually come to terms with the change, you didn't! You could just continue your life like nothing happened because nothing happened to you! You didn't tear your acl, you didn't have to undergo surgery, you don't have to go to rehab four times a week because your life didn't change one bit!" I did not expect her to start yelling at me. I just stood there and didn't move, scared that she would just snap again. I did not deserve any of those accusations and I was totally aware of that.

"You know what? Go to your event. Why don't you just stay at Alex' house for that matter? So you two can just party all night long and forget about everything."

I saw in Leah's eyes that she knew she had overstepped a line. "y/n-" She took a step forward and reached for my hand but I stepped back.

"No. You don't get to do that Leah. I know that your life is hard right now but I'm doing everything I can to help and support you. I cook for you, I drive you everywhere, I go to rehab with you because you don't want to feel alone and I even started to work from home just so you don't have to feel lonely in our apartment! And you know why I do that? Because I love you okay? I love you Leah and I would do everything for you, even tear my own acl just so you have someone who feels what you had to feel! I love you way more than I should and I'm sorry that I care about your health and your wellbeing so much."

With those words I left her room and stormed into mine, which was just across from hers. I slammed the door shut before she could even think about following me. Hot tears streamed over my cheeks as I sat down on the edge of my bed. Leah and I rarely argued which I was extremely thankful for. And normally we always apologized to each other minutes after it enden because we couldn't stand the thought of being mad at one another. But not this time. This fight was the biggest one we've had and I knew that it wouldn't just be solved by saying sorry.

Thinking about the fight, I realized what I said to her. Did I actually confess my feelings to her in an argument? Oh god. I let myself fall onto my bed and just wanted to turn back time. How could I be so stupid and let my emotions get the best of me?

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

About half an hour later I heard Leah's door open. I could hear her stop in front of my door and I imagined her standing there, only a few meters away from me, contemplating what to do or say next. Then she knocked. "y/n?" I couldn't get myself to answer and just continued to stare at my ceiling. At least I had stopped crying now. "I- fuck. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. That argument escalated way too fast and I- I don't even know what I wanna say. I'm sorry. I'm going now, Alex is waiting outside. Call me tomorrow, please."Her voice broke and I could hear that she was as close to crying as I was. And yet, I didn't answer. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted and I was not going to stop her. I listened to her steps as she walked downstairs, struggled to put on her shoes and finally left the house. She didn't slam the door like I did, she closed it carefully, like everything was normal. Except it wasn't. I had this weird feeling like something heavy was laying on my chest and I couldn't breathe properly. Maybe it was good that she left, maybe that was what we needed. A watery smile appeared on my lips when I thought about it. Who was I even kidding? I already missed her even though she only left 10 minutes ago. How pathetic was that? I slowly made my way out of my bed and carefully opened the door as if someone was still here that I could possibly bother. I took the same steps down stairs that Leah took only a few moments ago. The tv was still on pause so I just sat down and continued to watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S aimlessly. Just when I thought about calling Keira to tell her about everything that had happened, I heard someone opening the door. Who was that? The only person who had a spare key was Keira and the last time I checked she was in Barcelona. My eyes were fixed on the door. The remote In my right hand, I was ready to throw it at- "Leah?" I lowered my hand and looked at her confused. "What the fuck are you doing here? You're supposed to go out with Alex." My confusion was replaced by slight anger as I recalled the events from earlier. "Oh y/n, I- I didn't expect you to be downstairs. I thought-"

"What are you doing here Leah?"

She closed the door behind here and took her shoes off before she came to sit on the couch next to me. I turned so I could face her and watched her carefully as she placed a bag on the small table next to us. "Please let me talk y/n. I need to apologize to you."

I nodded, signaling her to continue and that I was listening.

"Okay so, I need to tell you that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of the things that I said earlier because you don't deserve it. You did everything you could for me and I took it for granted which it's absolutely not. You didn't have to do that and yet you still did because you care for me. You stayed by my side during the time before the surgery, encouraged me right before it and were the first to visit me afterwards. You helped me come home and made me feel more at home than I ever felt before. I want to thank you for that. It might take more than just this apology but I'm willing to do everything for you that you did for me."

"Leah-"

"No, I'm not finished." She took my hands in hers and gently stroke her thumb over the back of my hand.

"During those couple months, I could always count on you, you were always there for me. You made me feel things I never felt before. I'm not the best at expressing my emotions and I think you're aware of that." I chuckled and a small smile made its way onto her face. "But this is different. Every time you drove me somewhere, rehab, the store, literally anywhere and put your hand on my thigh to comfort me, it felt like small fireworks exploded in my whole body. I had no idea why that was the case but I just always wanted to be close to you. Every single touch, every single look, every single hug wasn't enough because I wanted to feel you close the entire time. What I'm trying to say is, I think I fell for you. No, scratch that. I'm madly in love with you y/n and when you told me that you felt the same in my room, my brain just couldn't process the fact that you actually said that." She let out a slight chuckle and looked directly into my eyes. "I like you too y/n."

"I- wow. I did not expect that. Are you serious?"

"One hundred twenty percent." I smiled and leaned forward to hug her. "Thank you Lee, I really appreciate it." I felt her place a kiss on my temple and my heart swell at that small gesture. "So what's in that bag?" I asked as I let go of her. "Take out from the Japanese restaurant that you love so much. I thought you might don't wanna cook after this whole thing."

I just looked at her, sitting in front of me, eyes full of love. "Thank you Lee. It's perfect honestly." I grabbed one of the take out boxes and Leah got us two forks from the kitchen. We settled on the couch and continued to watch the episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S that I had started.

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

I finished before her and 'obliviously' put my hand on her thigh, tracing random patterns on it. I could feel her tense and just grinned. She placed her empty box on the table and I shifted in my seat until I faced her. She sensed my gaze on her and turned her head. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Nope, nothing." I moved my hand up a bit more and Leah's cheeks turned a dark shade of red. "So, I set off small fireworks in you?" I smirked at her teasingly and she just looked down, trying to hide her now crimson red cheeks. I lifted her head with one finger and leaned forward. "Was is too much?"

"Not at all Lee. I'm just glad to know that I'm not alone with that feeling." I whispered against her lips before I closed the gap and enjoyed her soft lips on mine. We parted after a few seconds and I rested my head on her chest. "It might take more than one kiss like that to convince me that you're not lying about this." I grinned and Leah let out a small laugh. "I think that's possible to arrange."

i'm baaack! this maybe took a bit more than a few day but eyyy, at least i finished it. i hope you liked it :)

and this whole text is not proofread so i apologize in advance for any possible mistakes

[bettsfic]

Do you have any advice for writers who are chronic perfectionist who never finish a manuscript?

i can definitely sympathize, anon. i'm a recovery perfectionist myself.

what's interesting is seeing what happens when you remove the word "perfectionist" from your vocabulary. when you do that, you're forced to look at it from a new lens and see it for what it really is: fear.

perfectionism can sometimes have this noble connotation. a perfectionist is supposed to be someone who's fastidious about details and patient about results. perfection in creative pursuits can sometimes be conflated as a drive for beauty. but things are beautiful because they're flawed, and beauty is appreciated for an awareness and understanding of those flaws. the greatest creativity happens at the ugliest and basest parts of you.

perfectionism hates revision. it says that you should get it right on the first try. perfectionism hates practice. it says you should already know how to do it. perfectionism hates discovery. it says what exists should already be known.

the hardest truth for perfectionists to face is that they are not yet good. the hardest task for perfectionists is to undertake is learning that they are not yet good and that's okay. the hardest belief for perfectionists to internalize is that they are not yet good and that's okay, and eventually they will be better.

you have to start small. you have to. you can't wake up one day and decide you're going to lift 200lbs above your head and then get mad at yourself for getting literally crushed beneath the weight of your expectations. you look at the tiny dumbbells and think, i'm too strong for those. but you're not strong enough for what you want to lift, so you have to start with the lightest thing you can carry. and then you lift the lightest thing a million times.

when i say start small, i mean haikus. i mean microfiction. i mean drabbles. you learn the iterative process by practicing it on small things and working your way up to bigger things. you might think, but i like to read books so i want to write books. but to write a book, you have to write a hundred shorter things first. start with writing and rewriting 100 words until you like them. then 200 words. then 400, 800, 1600. write a story that can fit on a post-it note, and then write it over again, and once more after that. move to a notecard and do the same thing with a new story. move to a piece of paper and do the same thing. offer yourself physical evidence of the process of revision, and then, by the time you work your way up to a whole manuscript, you have the knowledge, skill, and endurance to trust that you'll see it through to the end.

[pinpilinpaux]

Alexia Putellas on her interview with SPORT

Are you happy?

How deep! [laughs]. Yes, yes, I am very happy. I had a really hard time during the injury. Until that moment I was lucky that I had never been injured before and it was really fucked up. I worked a lot to be able to have these opportunities now and enjoy competing again. I just want this: to win, to compete, to train, to help the team. I'm happy and it shows on the field, doesn't it?

Did that beautiful goal against Madrid with the outside come to you by itself or did you have time to think about it?

I didn't think about it at the time, I think a lot on the pitch, but I often flow and that's what came to me. Then I analyzed the play and Misa was already cutting me off, and with the inside I don't know if it would have gone in, because I had to wait a little longer. Kika left it for me to finish with the right, but I chained the stride and it fell to me on the outside.

It couldn't be any other way, your 199th goal with Barça to surpass Luis Suárez and enter the club's historical podium. It's not to compare, but to put what you're doing as a midfielder into perspective.

When I started at the club, I never imagined I could reach almost 200 goals. It's a figure we've usually seen more in strikers. I work on many things and efficiency is one of them. I know that I have at least one per game and I have always tried to help the team in that way. I don't think I do it only with goals, but with many other things, but I always work to make it happen.

When you see all this, are you aware that you are one of the best players in history or you don't think about it?

No, no, no. I don't think any of this. I think these things are valued, just like titles and everything you can contribute to a sport or a club, when you are no longer there. Right now I just think about the next game and then the next one. And so on throughout the season.

How did you receive the affection of your teammates after achieving this milestone in Madrid? They celebrated with you and then sang to you in the locker room.

I had nothing in mind, to tell you the truth. And in fact, whenever I score, I don't know what to do. I get carried away by the adrenaline. At that moment I was almost not even aware that it was goal 199, the celebration was more because we were winning 0-4 against Real Madrid at their home. The team competed very well in the match, the level was very high. We all got together on the bench and celebrated together.

Everyone who works with you says you're doing very well physically and, above all, mentally. Where are you at now?

I think the word that best defines it is stability. I knew that after the game against Manchester City. The reaction was that: of balance, that everything was fine and was going to be fine. I felt like I have throughout my career and it's a feeling of enormous tranquility.

When you signed your renewal, after a long negotiation, the phrase 'Alexia is Barça and Barça is Alexia' was repeated. What does this say to you?

A lot. But I think that Barça is not just one player, it's a lot more, that's why it's the best club in the world. But if someone thinks like that... I feel flattered.

During the injury, were you thinking 'I'm going to come back' or 'I'm going to be the best again'?

There are many phases in a process like this. In my case, I went from being at a very high level to having to learn to walk. I don't know if people are aware of what an ACL operation is, but if they are not very apprehensive, they should look it up. They do everything to you in this operation. And when you have to relearn how to walk and run, you don't think about anything else but the immediate. You have surgery and you can't even put your plate on the table to eat.

Totally dependent...

You need help for everything. And I didn't think about anything else but getting back to playing. Then you burn through the stages. When you achieve one thing, you go for another, and another. I'm like that with everything and I was also like that with the injury. And then you think about working to get back to the level you were at.

I really liked your speech in the locker room before the final in Bilbao. You were a substitute and you talked about the importance of all the players on the team, those who were going to play and those who were not.

These injuries also make you learn a lot. I have been in roles that I had not lived before, both when I was injured and when you return to the team and you see that you need to get into the rhythm, that you need time, but at the same time you don't have time because this is the elite. And today I understand much more what a teammate who is not playing a lot or who does not have confidence in herself can feel. And this is something that the injury has also given me.

What did it mean to you to be back in Paris, among the ten finalists for the Ballon d'Or?

It was a different day in my life. Gratitude and happiness for the recognition. It's not why I play, but everyone likes to be recognized if you've done your job well. It is something very subjective, because everyone has their own opinion and everyone votes their own preferences. I just dedicate myself to helping the team, to contribute my virtues inside and outside, and if they recognize it, I am very grateful, to be honest.

It's a long season, but you're off to a great start. Can you see yourself on the stage of the Châtelet for another year?

Ugh... I don't know. It's true, I don't think about it. I'm only thinking about the next game and, at the very most, what I'm planning in the long term is titles, trying to fight for the four again. And in the summer, the Euro. After that, the season is over and it doesn't depend on me.

Two Ballon d'Or for you and two for Aitana, four in a row. Is it a reflection of how well Barça is doing?

One hundred percent. When I won them, I felt it was a prize not only for me but for all of us, for the project. And now I still feel the same way. You have been winning for four years an award that is perhaps the most prestigious and this says a lot about the club, the team, the teammates, the staff, what is created, the fans.... It is the award that makes visible everything that is behind it.

After the classic you wanted to highlight the work of Pere Romeu and all the staff. How have these first months of changes been?

At the beginning we felt, because this is Barça and the demand is maximum, that we needed to finish fitting pieces, ideas and really define what we want to be. And I think that with the passing of these months we have seen perfectly that in the end all we needed was time and I am very happy for the team and also for the staff.

Hence your words...

I think that the preparation phase of the coaching staff can often go unnoticed. In the end, we see everything they work on so that we can execute it on the field, everything they transmit to us and the many tools they give us so that we can almost flow. And I wanted to highlight this after a victory like this, because it was also, and to a large extent, their merit.

When you started playing in Sabadell, you were mixed in a team with girls of different ages and you were always one of the youngest. Now you have a special admiration from Barça's youngest players: Pina, Jana, Vicky... What can you tell me about this rising generation?

The future that awaits Barça is incredible. It is also true that there is more and more competition and it is difficult. When I arrived here, I didn't have or need that adaptation, because it wasn't the same. Back then, when you were 17 or 18 years old, you were already playing every game. And now, perhaps, it's a little different, but the demands are also different. I have a very good relationship with all of them and for them I'm not a mother, because I'm not a mother because I'm 30, but I'm like an older sister. I have a great time with them.

Is it possible for you to tell us why you call Vicky 'stitch' or is it a secret?

[Laughs] Let her tell you, let her tell you.

We write it down for Vicky, then.

Write it down for her, write it down for her.

Now the Champions League is back, which did not start well in Manchester, but you came out to say that no one should doubt Barça. And the team responded.

We really want to be in the quarter-finals and be first in the group, and for that we depend on ourselves. We have two away games left, which won't be easy, and on December 18 City come to Montjuïc. Given how the game went there, we are looking forward to this one.

The other day, against St. Pölten, the girls from your Foundation, Eleven, came to Johan to surprise you. Were you excited?

Very much so. It's a very special project. It was born when I broke my knee, I had a lot of time and it helped me to get through it a bit, because I had a lot of time, which is something I'd never had before. I broadened my vision and started to create things. Everything I do, I do it because it is born from me. It fills me with pride to see that it is already a reality and that I can help other people thanks to what life has given me.

Do you think about a future after your soccer career?

No, especially now that I am very happy. I don't see myself in any other way than as a player for the moment.

[clxja16]

The Unspoken Words

Lewis Hamilton X Reader

Genre: idk man

Warnings: suggestive(?), angst(?)

Word Count: 1.4K+

Author's Note: idk what to think of this. I think the idea in my head was better than the actual product. honestly I'm just gonna put this up for now, but if it doesn't get like 200 notes in the next three days, then imma delete it.

update; it got 200+ notes in three days, so I guess it's staying up

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

The unspoken words of an almost relationship; 

“Just to be clear, we’re…” 

“Friends,” you said calmly, with an all too knowing smile.  

Lewis smirked at you.  “Hmm, you weren’t saying that last night,” he says before walking away.  Lewis was many things, but above all he knew how to be discrete.  A quality that you were ever so grateful for.  

-

“Just stay for the night,” 

“Just stay with me for a little longer tonight.”  Lewis clings tightly to you, even if it’s only for a moment longer.  One day, you won’t try to leave in the middle of the night, and Lewis hopes that day comes soon. 

“We both know I shouldn’t do that.” 

“No one will know,” Lewis says, as he pulls you closely to him in the bed.  You can’t help but allow your eyes to close.  Just for one more night, you’ll stay. 

“No one has to know that you like being with me, I won’t tell anyone if that means you stay longer,” Lewis wants to say.  He knows he’s getting attached; too attached. 

-

“Congratulations on the podium,” you say, as you and him walk side by side towards the hotel elevators. 

Lewis smirked, “Do you want to help me celebrate tonight?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you say as you begin to unbutton the blouse you were wearing. 

-

“Lewis look at this,” you say, shoving your phone in his direction.  At the worst timing ever you get a text notification from your partner back home. 

“y/n,” Lewis says with a tone you can’t place. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You’re trying to say, “I’m sorry, that I fell in love with you when I’m already in a relationship with someone else.  I’m sorry that I’m willing to hurt you to protect them.” 

-

“I told you before, this is not something serious Lewis.” 

“If I had met you first, If I had known you first, If you were here first, this wouldn’t be happening right now.  I wish I waited for you, but now is too late,” you heart tries to free itself from your mind, but you refuse to allow it.  Your mind keeps your heart locked away, to protect it from itself. 

“Why can’t we change it to be serious?” 

“Why can’t you let me love you?  Let me love you out loud.  Let me show you what it means to love and be loved.  Let me be in love with you.  Please.”  Lewis wants nothing more than to love you, how you deserve to be loved.  He would give anything in this moment to love you.  

-

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Lewis said, a few days after the initial fight. 

“I will stop asking for more, If I can love you for a second more.”  Lewis gives up on the possibility of something real.  He gives up on loving you out loud.   He lets go of something serious, if that means you will be with him for another second. 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you offer him a smile, “it was a heated conversation” 

“Thank you for not making me choose.”  

“If that’s what you want to call it,” he says with a smile as well. 

“It is what I want to call it.”  It’s time to let him go, but you’re not ready. 

“Let me pretend for a little longer, that this isn’t becoming serious.” 

-

“Oh just like that,” you can’t help but moan out.  You can hear Lewis scoff at you. 

-

“I have to go,” you say to Lewis as he watches you pack your things.  “Toto is sending me back to the factory.” 

“For how long?” 

“Just a couple weeks,” you smirk at Lewis, “I’ll be back.” 

“I’m going to come back to you, because I’m not ready to let you go.  I know it’s selfish for me to expect you to wait around for me.  But that's what I want you to do.  I want you to wait for me just a little longer.  Wait for me just for a moment more.  And then I’ll let you go.”  It's about time you let Lewis go, you force him to stop loving you, but not right now.  Not this exact moment.  You want him to be yours for just one more second. 

“Good.” 

-

“I’m gonna extend my time at the factory,” you speak into the phone to Lewis. 

“You said you were going to come back,” 

“You told me you were going to be back, and I waited for you.  I will wait for you; so long as you tell me you’re coming back.  I will continue to wait for you, just tell you’re going to come back.  That you’re going to come back to me.  You tell me that, and I will wait.  I will wait as long as it takes.”  Lewis wants to wait, he wants to wait for you to come back to him.  

“I am going to come back, just not as soon as I thought.” 

“Wait for me, for a little longer.  Please.” 

-

“God, I missed you,” Lewis says, as he sees you waiting outside his hotel room. “When did you get here?” 

“A few hours ago,” you say, revealing the luggage behind you. 

“Let’s get inside,” Lewis opens the hotel room door for you. 

-

“Oh this is perfect,” you praise. 

“Just for you.” 

“Everything I do is for you.  I wait, I long, I live, I breathe for you.  All I have done and will do, are for you.  Because I love you.  Because I am in love with you.”  Lewis hopes that in another life he will get to say all the unspoken words of this moment to you.  

-

“y/n, you’re getting a call,” Lewis calls to you, while you’re in the shower.  

“Who is it?” 

“It’s them.” He says it with the same tone that you can’t place. 

“Why?  Why do I do this to myself?  Why do I continue to love you, when you don’t mind hurting me to protect them?  How can you hurt me like this, again?  How can you do this to me?  Why do I let you do this to me?”  Lewis knows that you aren’t willing to hurt them.  He doesn’t understand why you continue to protect them.  Maybe in another lifetime, you can hurt them to be with him.  

“Oh,” you stop for a second, “just leave it. I’ll take care of it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

-

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Lewis says, as the two of you sit across from each other in the hotel room, half-dressed. 

“I love you, but I don’t love this.  I don’t love the secrets.  I don’t love the pain.  I don’t love how you’re not mine.  I don’t love that you can hurt me easily.  I don’t love that you met me second.  I don’t love this.  I love you.”  Lewis thinks that in another lifetime, he won’t have to say all the unspoken words to you.  He wants some unspoken words to remain unspoken. 

“I know,” you say truthfully, “you want something serious.” 

“You deserve something serious, and I wish I could do that for you, but I can’t.” 

“And you’re trying to get away from something serious.” 

“You told me.  You told me you didn’t want this to be serious.  I knew what I was getting myself into.” 

“It was fun though.” 

“I loved every minute with you.  I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you, but I would do it all again.  I would put you through all the pain again, just to feel an ounce of your love.  I’m being selfish again, but I love you too.  In another life, find me first.  Find me first, so that I can be with you first, so that this won’t ever happen again.  In another life, let me meet you first.”  In another life you want the unspoken words to remain unspoken, but you want to say all the unspoken feelings of this moment. 

“If you change your mind about something serious, you can call me,” Lewis offers. 

“Tell me to wait for you.  Tell you’re going to come back to me.  Tell me that, and I will wait.  I will always wait for you, just tell me you’re going to come back to me.  Just one more time, tell me you’re coming back and I will wait.”  Lewis asks for you to give him hope.  He wants you to give him hope that things can change.  

“Don’t wait around for me, Lewis.” 

-

“Now we’re just…” Lewis speaks up, when he sees you leaving the hotel.  

“We’re just people that used to know each other,” you say, as the taxi to take you to the airport pulls up.  “Goodbye Lewis.” 

“Goodbye y/n.” 

[blushblushbear]

A marriage proposal from all the kitsunes?🙂

Aki:

plans it all

is very sweet

takes you somewhere special to ask you

has a ring and everything already ready

fully does the whole down on one knee pop the question thing

if you say yes all villages within a 200 mile radius will know HE'S SO EXCITED!!!

can not stop kissing you

takes every chance to call you his fiance

also def pulls the 'this is my ex' 'STOP SAYING IT LIKE THAT hi I'm his fiance' thing

if you say no I won't lie, he's gonna be the mopeiest boy for A WHILE

there will def be a talk about how come and ngl if it's just you can't see him being your husband he might end things

he wants to be yours forever, but if you don't return those feelings he'd never force you but he'd also def not have the heart to stick around

Haru:

asked you to marry him spur of the moment out of nowhere

you were just together and laughing and he looked at you and his heart got so soft and warm and suddenly the words were coming out of his mouth

you were both taken aback by it

but as your laughing it off like 'lol dude what' he actually doubles down

he thinks about it for a split second and realizes he really means it

'no, actually--- marry me. like-- really.'

he went from fawning to surprised to dead serious in the span of about 30 seconds

if you say yes right away he's over joyed, pulls you into his arms, and ends up spinning you while hugging you so tight

YOU SAID YES!!

but if you asked to take some time he obviously is fine with that

he did ask in a way even he wasn't ready for so it makes sense you need a bit to think about it

if you eventually say yes well, see above

but add him running through his clan's grounds screaming at the top of his lungs 'THEY SAID YES!!!'

you've made him the happiest he's ever been

if you say no either time he's going to enter into a bit of a funk

eventually he will ask you why you said no and low key gets a little obsessive about fixing whatever about him made you not want to marry him

he WILL have you as his spouse come hell or high water

Fuyu:

has a plan

a big plan

it is grand and glorious and befitting such a match as you and him!

and it all goes to shit cause he got way too nervous

he's actually kind of a nervous wreck all night

stuttering and flustered and trying to find the right words (THAT HE SWEARS HE HAD BEFORE HE GOT HERE BUT NOW THAT'S HE'S STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU HIS BRAIN IS DRAWING A BLANK!!)

probably ends up accidentally ruining the evening and when you finally ask what's wrong his nerves get the better of him again and he caves

he ends up on his hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor as he loudly shouts 'PLEASE MARRY ME'

it's the most embarrassed he's ever been

ROBBED of all his dignity

but he couldn't NOT propose!

he HAD to do this!

he couldn't stand another night of just being your boyfriend

if you say yes he cries

he feels so lucky and over joyed and he's just so deliriously happy!

he proudly introduced you as his future spouse every chance he gets and even some he doesn't (HE MADE THEM HAPPEN, ALL HAD TO KNOW YOU WERE HIS BETROTHED!)

if you say no I think he just freezes up

he's shaking but trying to hide it

he slinks off in shame and embarrassment, excusing himself and probably not seeing you for a few days

he def cries in this scenario too but he does not let you see his tears

after he cries himself stupid and sick he eventually comes crawling back to you with a beaten and bruised heart and asks why

you'd have expect this conversation to have him return to his haughty and proud self as he demands you to explain yourself and ease his bruised ego and broken heart

but he just can't muster it

he's actually really quiet

just tired and hallow

he knows whatever you say is going to only break his heart more, but he NEEDS to know

[youchangedmedestiel]

As promised I said I'll give you fic recs to celebrate the fact that I have more than 100 followers now. Again, thanks a lot! This makes me happy! :)

So now, here's my gift to you:

Every fucking fic by xylodemon

The writing is always perfect! I'm not kidding, this is my favorite writer so far! I've never been disappointed by their fics. NEVER! I haven't finish to read all of them but I certainly attend to.

Fics written by deancaskiss

If you like reading about Cas and Dean "just" kissing, then you should try reading those, if you haven't done it yet. I haven't read all of them yet, I read only around 10 fics for now, but same I'll attend to read more.

Then, more specifically:

Blackberries Wild by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) Angst, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Canon divergent after 13x12, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, brief mention of suicidal ideation - around 2500 words

This is so well written, the descriptions are everything, especially the ones for the kisses. It could totally happened like that. It's very true to their character if you ask me.

a kiss for every season (literally) by sobsicles and it is also available as a podfic here read by Scintillating Gatria (LadyLoralye) Canon typical level of violence, Canon Compliant, Brief Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kisses, Smut - around 22000 words

The title says it all, a kiss between Cas and Dean happens every season and since there's never enough kisses between these two, that fic is therefore perfect.

People Who Are Good Like Pie by sobsicles Blowjob, NSFW, Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean is In Over His Head, Flustered Dean, Confused Dean, Creatively ties eating pie into sex, Sounds disgusting but it's really not I promise, it's hilarious, fluff and porn - around 1800 words

And it is indeed hilarious imo as well as very hot. It's short and easy to read, really different from the above. But it's human!cas and I'm weak for him in a sense that there is so much potential with him in a fic and that I love him.

You and I Know the Way by aishitara Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Series, Canon Compliant through 15x18, Fluff, a smidgen of angst, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Mentions of Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort - around 4300 words

There is human!cas in there too, so yeah I'm sold. Plus some amazing, beautiful, stunning art from winchester-reload is included in the fic so it's even more perfect. This is smut yes, but, BUT you can really see all the love there is between them and that fucks me up. That's the type of porn that makes me cry. I never thought I could say that about porn one day. But maybe it's because it isn't, this is just LOVE!

Humans Do It Better by Hatteress Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat (Supernatural), Excessive Drinking, Light Angst, First Kiss, Second more heated kiss, Kinda Funny.

I invented the tags here because it isn't on AO3. I need to mention this fic because it was like one of the first fics I read. It was more than a year ago and I still remember it. Maybe because I wished it had a next FUCKING chapter. I want to read more about it. I want to see what happened when they meet again later. I want to see what's going on in Dean's mind the next morning when he realized what he did, thinking about how he corrupted a fucking angel. Feeling guilty about it because it's Dean. I - I, maybe I'll fucking write this second chapter one day. But I don't know if it's a thing, you know, writing a sequel to someone else's fic.

Anyway, I hope you'll like reading those if it's not already done. I for sure have more fics to recommend but I have to save some for the 200 followers I guess lmao. One can dream.

BUT if you need specific fics, like from an episode in particular for example, you can still ask me because I sort them by episode tag too.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Rose's Day of Asks - the sequel

Hi!!! So this was always a curiosity of mine. How did you get started with the the thai communal wardrobe? And how many are on the list at the moment?

Have a wonderful night. Rose💛

Rose! I'm so honoured that you sent me this on your Day of Asks - the sequel!

How did I get started with the thai communal wardrobe? And how many are on the list at the moment?

The short answers?

I liked noticing the shared clothing across series and wanted to a) collect them (ie document them by writing a list) and b) post about them in a consistent format.

Approximately 230 (!).

And the long answers:

I think it was about this time last year, or maybe a bit earlier, when I first started documenting the shared clothing across different series. I had been noticing several items of shared clothing for a while but I think the desire to document them stemmed from the stripy linin shirt having appeared in so many shows in such a short period of time. Other notable items included the yellow-soled shoes, this stripy t-shirt, and this polo shirt.

I wanted to post them in a consistent way (ie the format I currently use, with the header and then sub-headings of each show in chronological order), which meant I needed to write them down in a list to make sure I had all the info correct. At first, I just used a word document but after a few months switched to a spreadsheet because it made it easier to set out and find the information.

I started with the ones I already knew but decided to scan through a lot of shows to see if I could find some more. I think this took the total to around 45 items of clothing, so I decided to do the BL Advent last December as a way to post them all. However, in preparing for that I went from 45 to 90.

As new series came out, and as I kept scanning through old series, by the end of March this year the total had risen to 126 and I put it to a vote as to how to continue posting the rest - the consensus being that I should go chronologically down through my list. Which is what I've been doing since then. I queued up a lot of posts, had a little break during the summer, but now I have more queued up.

Things got quieter over the end of spring and into summer and the list stayed around 150/160 for a couple of months. A few new ones did crop up over this time, like this new popular one (they're the same top just in different colours and with the pattern inverted on the grey/brown one):

But then Peaceful Property hit. And hit big.

At the same time, The Trainee went mad, and because I had noticed a few shirts from Last Twilight in both shows, I did another scan through of that and found A LOT of new ones. BUT ALSO, because of that, I realised I had seen this shirt recently and that led me to discover that Monster Next Door and Knock Knock Boys had a lot of shared clothing, and some of which they also share with Cooking Crush.

So I think since the end of August, I've added about 50 new items onto the list taking it up to around 230. Previous to hitting 200, I had thought I would make a post to mark it...but then I got swamped by all the new ones and I've been busy trying to document them all...to the point where I'm beginning to question my sanity over the amount of time I'm spending on doing all this!

Here's my current folder situation and which basically shows the list, although 80 of them don't currently have a number/place on the list because I'm waiting to finish collating all the new ones from Monster Next Door, Knock Knock Boys, and Cooking Crush:

Let's end on a few stats:

So far, 21 characters have worn the Mustard Sneakers brand yellow-soled shoes.

The items of clothing worn by most characters (11) are the stripy linin shirt and the stripy t-shirt (mentioned above) but the stripy t-shirt has been worn in more series (10 compared to the linin shirt's 6).

The show with the most items of shared clothing with another series is, of course, Only Friends with 64 (and counting!)...and even though I'm not sure this will ever be beaten, Peaceful Property might be able to if it keeps going the way it started.

The show with the next number of items is Last Twilight with 41.

The actors who have currently worn the most shared items of clothing are Sea (41), Book (31), and Gun (28).

[daydreamingyuta]

Congrats for your 200 followers!!! I would like to see prompt 17 with johnny, a friends to lovers kinda thing, like he realising that is in love with her and asking her on a date

Flustered | Johnny Suh

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Word Count: 2k

Prompt: 17 "Please help me pick out an outfit."

A/N:  Hi!! Thank you! and thank you for requesting! This was so much fun to write, I hope you like it! <3

"No, it's this Saturday." You say, on the phone, with your bestfriend Johnny.

"Oh, but aren't we going to the bookstore that day?"

"Yeah! That won't take too long, my work dinner is at 7."

"Oh good, I thought you were trying to get out of seeing me." Johnny says with his usual sarcasm.

"Never."

"Hey, I just got to the studio, I'll see you Saturday."

"Bye!"

⸻

Saturday comes by quicker than you had expected it to. You had been working overtime every day this week so it wasn't a surprise that you had slept through the alarm you had set.

"Of course you're still sleeping."

You're startled awake from the sound of Johnny's voice right above you. "What are you doing here already?"

"It's noon. We were supposed to go to the bookstore an hour ago. But, like the gentleman I am, I let you sleep in but I'm getting bored now."

"You've been here for an hour watching me sleep?"

"You wish. Your roommates made some lunch, and I ate with them."

A twinge of jealousy runs through your body, which is absolutely unwarranted. Johnny was just a friend and a grown man; he could do whatever he liked.

You got out of bed, did your skin care, and then got dressed into your usual outfit, jeans and a t-shirt. When you went back into your room, Johnny had made your bed for you and had grabbed your tote bag.

Johnny was always doing things like this. Little acts of kindness. He didn't know that his actions gave you butterflies every time. If only you were brave enough to tell him.

You go to grab your tote bag away from him, but he moves so that you can't grab it. "I'll carry it y/n, go put your shoes on."

⸻

The bookstore was having a huge sale which is why you really wanted to go. You had told Johnny that you needed him to help you carry all the books you were going to buy, which was true, but you also just wanted to spend some time with him. Plus, you and Johnny used to read together all the time when you two were in school, and you always tried your very best to get him back into reading.

As you two browse the bookstore together, you have to restrain yourself from buying every book you see. You settle on a couple that you have been really looking forward to reading. Every time you pick up a book that you want to get, Johnny notices and grabs it from you so that you don't have to hold them.

"You really don't have to hold everything, you're still carrying my tote bag too."

"Isn't that why I'm here? You needed a big strong man like myself to help you carry the three hundred books you getting?"

"Keep talking and I'll actually get three hundred books for you to hold."

"I can handle the weight, but I don't think your wallet could." Johnny says as he walks away from you, making that fake shocked face he makes every time he disses you.

You finish walking around the bookstore, extra slowly now, to make Johnny pay for that comment. After a while though, you pay for all your books and head back to your apartment.

⸻

You two get back to your apartment and you immediately start going through all the books you bought, trying to decided which one you are going to read first. Since you slept in though, you were out for longer than expected so you had to start getting ready for your work dinner. You had almost forgotten that Johnny was still at your place when you heard the Netflix sound coming from your tv. Johnny was laying on your bed, deciding what movie to watch.

"Oh Johnny, remember I have that dinner tonight? I have to start getting ready now."

"Ok." He says, still looking through Netflix.

"Whatever." You say as you make your way over to the bathroom because you wanted to do your hair first. You decided on a straight hairstyle that was half up and half down. You still had no idea what you were going to wear, but this hairstyle would go with almost any outfit.

Once you were finished, you started on your makeup. You wanted to wear a bit more makeup than usual, as this was a fancy dinner. This took a little longer than normal, but you had always loved the process of doing your makeup because it was almost therapeutic.

Once you finally got done with your makeup, you walked back into your room. Johnny had settled on an action movie, and he was almost halfway through. You walk over to the remote that's laying by his side and press pause.

"Johnny since your here, please help me pick out an outfit."

"Ok, let me just finish this scene."

He presses play and you walk over to your closet to see your options. The main reason why your outfits usually consisted of jeans and a t-shirt was because picking out an outfit was always so hard for you. You were thankful that Johnny was here though, for the past couple of years now he definitely became more and more fashionable.

"Alright, what's the type of outfit you're thinking about wearing tonight?" Johnny says, right behind you. So close behind you that you freeze up. He reaches out his arms to start looking through what you have. This traps you in between your closet and his chest. You try to answer his question, but your mind goes blank.

At your silence he puts his arms down and steps a bit away from you. "Huh?"

You finally feel like you can breathe again. "um, yeah. I was just thinking. um, it's going to be a bit on the fancier side but not too fancy. I was thinking maybe a dress."

You watch his face as his eyebrows go up and a smile forms on his lips. "You haven't worn a dress since we were like 12."

"Not true, I wear dresses sometimes, you just haven't seen me in one since we were 12."

"Ah, then let's see your options."

You pull out the very limited amount of dresses you do own for Johnny to look through. He doesn't look for long though, his eyes immediately goes towards your blue sundress.

He holds it up and considers it for a minute before handing it to you. "This one, for sure."

"Are you sure? I was thinking maybe the purp-"

"No." He says a bit too hastily. "I mean do whatever you are feeling, but I think the blue will look really nice."

"Ok." You say as you head into the bathroom to try it on.

You put the dress on, and you had to admit that it looked really nice. You had bought it a while ago but never had the chance to wear it yet, so you were glad to finally have it on. You walk out of the bathroom and head straight to where you keep your shoes.

"Hey, wait, let me see." Johnny says as he stops you.

You turn around and do a little pose for him. "You like it?"

But instead of Johnny's usual smart remarks, he's silent. He just nods his head yes.

"Oh. Should I try on the purple dress?"

"No. Don't change." He says, softly.

You hesitantly head over to your shoes, unsure of why Johnny is acting so strangely. He's not the type to lie to you if he really didn't like the dress, but his reaction was so unlike him.

You pick a pair of short white heels to go with your dress. They're super cute while also being comfortable. You sit down and try to put your shoes on, but the left strap is giving you trouble. "Hey, Johnny can you help me-"

"I'm gonna go get some water."

Even more confused, you try again to put you shoe on and eventually get it yourself. You get up and grab your purse that's hanging on your chair. When you head into the kitchen, Johnny seems to have regained his composure, he can at least look you in the eyes again.

You're all ready to go, when all of a sudden, the lights shut off. You try to turn the light switch on and off and nothing happens. You walk down the hallway and see that all the lights in the apartment is shut off.

"We lost power?"

"How? It's sunny outside." Johnny says, looking out the window.

"Maybe it will come back on in a minute."

As you two wait, you feel a vibration going off from inside your purse. You get out your phone and see that a text from your boss was sent in your work group chat. "Hey, looks like the power is out all over the city. Apparently, there was a small fire at the city's electrical grid and the power will most likely be out for a couple of hours. The restaurant called and said we could reschedule, so the dinner will be postponed to next Saturday."

You told Johnny what happened and how your dinner got canceled. You start to head towards you room to change when Johnny grabs your arm gently. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

"I'll just change into my sweatpants, since I'm not going out anymore."

"Who says you're not going out?"

"Hm?"

"Well, it would be a shame if we let such a pretty little outfit go to waste."

You felt yourself blush. Johnny always teases you but the way he said this was different. "Where are we gonna go?"

"For a drive."

That's all Johnny says before he walked into your room and quickly came out with your tote bag. Again, he insisted on carrying it but it looked bulkier than normal, so you knew he put something in there. You decide not to question it though, still stuck on what he just said.

⸻

It had been a while since you and Johnny just went out for a drive, and you were enjoying every minute of it. He's playing a playlist that you two made together years ago and it was effectively making you both nostalgic.

After about a 15 minute drive, he pulls into a parking spot. You had never been here before, but it had a pretty view of the entire city. You two sit together for a few minutes, enjoying the music and the scenery, but after a while you had to ask him what was going on.

“Johnny, can I ask you something?" You say as you turn to face him. "Why were you acting so weird before?”

“Oh… you just look very pretty in that dress, it took me by surprise." Johnny says, not making eye contact with you, playing with the hem of his shirt. "Not that you aren’t always pretty, you are. But you usually don't wear dresses, so I guess I forgot to control my reactions around you.”

“Control your reactions?”

“Yeah, it would be kinda hard to be friends if every time I saw you I got all flustered.”

“But why-”

“You really don’t know how beautiful you are do you?

You didn't know how exactly to respond to that, your mind racing with so many questions. You settle on a question that you already knew the answer to. "You mean that in a friend way, right?"

"... No y/n."

"No?"

"You don't believe me?"

"I do, I just have so many questions, Johnny."

"Well then why don’t you let me take you out on a date and we’ll talk through all your questions.”

“You… you wanna take me out?”

Johnny looks at you and it’s like you like he’s never looked at you before. It’s weird to see your best friend with such longing in his eyes, but it’s also the very thing that you’ve been wanting for so long.

“Y/n, you don’t have to let me know right now. You can take your time and think about it. I know I just brought it up unexpectedly, but I think we both have been having feelings for each other for a while now. But I don't want to put pressure on you, just tell me yes or no whenever you know your answer.”

You two had been having feelings for each other for quite a while now. You had been going back and forth in your head about whether or not his actions were flirtatious or not for the entire past year. You turn your head to look out the car window so that you can hide the big smile on your face.

You already knew your answer, but before you could say anything you see Johnny reach into the back of the car. He’s holding your tote back and pulls out two books.

“Here, this is the book you looked the most excited about when you got it at the store today.” Johnny says as he hands you the book.

You can see that he brought a book for himself that you had owned for a long time, it was one of your favorites that you had been trying to convince Johnny to read for a while. You two sat in the car, music playing at a low volume, reading. Every once in a while, you caught Johnny looking at you and then start to read again, pretending like he wasn’t just staring at you.

It's just now starting to get darker, only a few spots of pink scattered around the sky, left over from sunset. You two put your books down to enjoy the view. You stayed like that for a while, until the pink faded. That’s when you turned to Johnny.

“Johnny?”

“Hm?” He says as he turns his head to you.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.” You say as you turn your face away from him to hide your blush. You can’t see his face right now but you know the exact smile that’s on his lips right now.

You definitely had not expected this day to end like this, but you've never been more thankful for a power outage than you are right now.

[squirting-sub]

Bloody finish

(TW blood)

Remember that painful paddle?

For my 25th birthday, my dom gave me a new wood paddle with a bunch of holes in it, making it very painful as there's almost no air resistance to it. She promised to hit me 25 times each with both wood paddles, her belt, our split leather paddle, the riding crop and a rubber pencil (sounds funny, but it's thin, hard and wraps around the curve of my skin. Similar to a cane). In the end she used both her hands as well, hitting me 200 times total.

She first did 20 with each tool, except for the painful paddle I linked above. She had the suspicion I'd start bleeding if she hits me with that once I'm all warmed up. So she saved it for last. After the 20 with each, she did the last 5 in the same order. Of course, she hit harder though.

Finally, she used the painful wood paddle with the grid. She hit me twice and made me look at my ass. It was already bleeding after just those two hits, but to me the pain felt nice and I didn't feel the bleeding. She asked me if I want to continue and finish the 25, explaining that once I make my decision, only our safe word will make her stop and she won't care how much I struggle or bleed. I weighed my options. We've never done impact play like this and our play never included much blood. It was the first session that made me cry. In fact I was still sniffling, but we talked about everything beforehand and I was the one who wanted to try it even if it meant bleeding. I still wanted that. I wanted to take all 25 smacks and figured I still have my safe word. So I told her to go ahead.

While she hit me, I heard her say how my blood is splattering on the sheets and after she was done she showed me how bloody the paddle was.

Pictured below is a photo of my ass at the end of it. Again, big TRIGGER WARNING: you will see a bloody ass below!

Unfortunately we were very busy, so I haven't taken many photos of how my ass looked the days after. I still have marks though and sitting is still uncomfortable.

I'm glad I made that experience and don't regret it. I'd also do it again, but it's definitely not something I need every week.

[ilovespec]

SPEC NSWF ALPHABET + LITTLE FIC IN THE END

by order of another respected fan of this divine Waifu, named @turtle-boris , I'm sorry if I didn't meet your expectations, pookie :<

A - aftercare.

He would just fall asleep holding you against his 🔥boobs🔥 , but this way he can take a shower with you if you want <3

B - body part.

loves your ass and thighs. You can't change my mind about that.

C - cum.

He only cums in a condom. He is 97 years old ! You don't need kids.

D - dirty secret.

Bruh, he is absolutely honest with you, he has no secrets ;) (well, or there is, but if I call it , then I will be banned here and put in prison for life)

E - experience.

Babe....He's 97 years old. He has more experience than Retsu or Baki fans, LOL

F - Favorite position.

Doggy style. He likes to hear your hips slap against his .

G - Goofy.

100% during sex, he can sometimes chuckles or joke , this is Spec ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

H - hair.

...I think it 's already clear, but both the top and bottom are completely smooth , LOL :^

I - intimacy.

For him, sex is a way to relax, So don't expect much romance.

J - jerk off.

He doesn't need to jerk off, because he has you !:3

K - kink.

When you try to be dominant.

L - location.

Most often your bed, but sometimes you have sex in the shower, and other places that your brain can only think of.

M - motivation.

Spec turns on your moans, sobs, etc... In short, he gets turned on by the sounds that leave your mouth in excitement .

N - no.

He won't share you with anyone. You're only his . He's against quickly sex. AND HE'S AGAINST THE GOLDEN RAIN!!

O - oral.

He likes to give and receive. He doesn't care ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

P - pace.

He has a rough and fast pace. But , Sometimes if you ask well, it can slow down :)

Q - quickly.

No. He likes to enjoy you to the fullest, and not in one round.

R - risk.

Yes , yes , and YES again ! With a 200% probability, you often had sex in public places (like toilets, in the bushes of the park, etc..)

S - stamina.

VERY HIGH !!!! Like, babe, he arrived from Florida to Japan overnight. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH STAMINA HE HAS?!

T - toys.

Bruh, babe, don't you have enough of his cock and fingers? And so, if you want, then he can try ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

U - unfair.

Is he teasing you? Sure. He can strongly overemulate you , and then not let you cum until you almost beg for it.

V - volume.

He is quite quiet, at most you hear from him his chuckles, his words when he says something to you and rare sighs .

X - x ray.

I'll buy you a wheelchair. 13'39 inches. He'll tear you up babe, be strong ✊😮‍💨

Y- yearning.

If he's not in jail, then you have sex almost every night .

Z - zzz.

He won't sleep for a long time, watching your sweet sleeping face, and then he'll pass out with you in his arms.

+ THE PROMISED NSWF FIC

You're somehow standing on your feet, because behind you, your "babygirl" named Spec is hammering into your poor ass like a jackhammer...stifled moans and sobs leave your mouth, because of his fast and rough pace, and in the meantime he bends over and leaves a couple more hickeys on your already bitten neck, and on your shoulders covered with bites and hickeys. Your walls are clamped around him, and for the umpteenth time this evening you come in such a way that everything turns white in your eyes, tears flow from your eyes once again, and you almost fall. But the powerful grip of your "babygirl" does not let you fall. Fortunately. And you can hear the familiar chuckle and voice above your ear.

Heh, baby, apparently you won't be able to walk tomorrow because of me... But, I'll help you, don't worry.

And he ends his words by leaving a kiss on your face wet with sweat and tears, looking into your already reddened eyes (your eye color) with a grin, continuing to hammer into you. Soon his thrusts somehow became even stronger , apparently bruises will appear on your poor thighs because of him. His face fell on your forearm, and after a couple more strong and deep thrusts, he cums (in a condom, of course, you both don't need children) biting your forearm, with a quiet sigh. And then, with a chuckle, he pulls away , still holding you . After all, he doesn't want you to fall to the floor here and now, takes off the condom , tying and throwing it away, and after admiring what he did to you a little, says.

Bhahah ! Dear, I see you can barely stand on your feet, I'll help you a little ;)

And then , your beloved BIG WAIFU helps you wash up , and then wipes you off and goes to sleep with you , hugging you to him >3

BRUH , sorry for this cringe , babes, this is the first time I've written something in this format 😅😮‍💨

[ddagent]

30 seconds :) love your work

You are so sweet! I hope you enjoy! <3

The bookshop on the corner of Whickber Street was a curious one. For years, the opening hours had been sporadic: sometimes there would be a kindly, yet fussy man inside, shooing out whatever customer wandered in; sometimes it would be closed, curtains drawn, with whispered secrets and hushed footsteps - and the occasional sound of a pistol. That all changed six years ago. Suddenly the shop was open everyday, the kindly bookseller (while still fussy) seemed rather amiable. No more secrets. No more late night visitors. And no more gunfire.

After all, this was now just a bookshop. No longer a safe house for Upstairs.

All things considered, Aziraphale was rather glad he was no longer a spy. The late hours, the ruined clothes - more than once, some imbecile on the opposite side had shot through a perfectly good Austen or Hardy without the slightest consideration. No, Aziraphale was glad that the Angel had retired after the ceasefire. The only downside to his retirement, of course, was that he could no longer see the Serpent. Such a dashing spy. They'd gone undercover once or twice. Had a rather lascivious snog in the backroom of this very bookshop.

Another life.

The bell tinkled above the door. Aziraphale, customer service smile in place, went to greet the delivery driver. "Good morning. A new shipment?"

"Seems like it, Mister Fell. Sign here?" Aziraphale signed his name with a flourish, noting it was the first run of the new memoir he had been waiting for. "Anything exciting?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. It's another memoir from an honest-to-God spy. I've heard that this one is especially riveting."

The driver gave a polite nod and left Aziraphale with his books. Determined to be the first to read it, Aziraphale turned the sign on the front door and slipped open the parcel tape with an antique letter opener. He wondered who it was. Gabriel, perhaps. Or Michael. Sandalphon had already released his memoir - Aziraphale had refused to stock it; it had quickly slipped down the bestseller charts. Maybe it's even someone from the other side, he thought. Maybe I'm even mentioned.

Taking out the first copy, Aziraphale was greeted by a warm yellow cover and the title: Angel on my Shoulder: Falling in Love with my Opposite Number by Agent C. Aziraphale was, quite honestly, disappointed. It wasn't a codename he recognised; probably one of the lesser agents cashing in on the recent media attention. Still, he would read it.

Maybe he'd learn a thing or two.

Give me a number - that’s how many seconds I’ll spend thinking of an Aziraphale/Crowley AU to write for you in 200 words or more.