#SORRY but like CAN you see all of me WALK into my mystery step inside and hold on for dear life. ? whats not clicking

[leclerc-hs]

off the record! - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x race engineer!reader (fem) summary: in which you and charles don't correct the headlines OR you and charles are fake dating...key word: FAKE...right? warnings: language, some smut, NOT PROOFREAD (there's prob typos sorry), angst??? word count: 9.1k author's note: hiiii angels! I hope you like this one <3 let me know what y'all think!! hearing from you all is what gives me motivation to keep writing. xoxo. HAD THIS ONE SITTING IN THE DRAFTS FOR SOME TIME

Charles is good at pretending. Almost too good.

He’s too swift in front of the cameras, too convincing when his hand always manages to find the small of your back as you both walk through the paddock like it’s second nature. Like you belong there, belong to him. Too natural in the way he leans toward you in interviews, voice low and warm, muttering things that sound and look intimate even when they aren’t.

Except sometimes, when it doesn’t feel like pretending.

Because no one’s watching when it’s just the two of you in the garage after hours, both of you bleary eyed and sore from leaning hunched over the data too long. He’s still like that. Still standing too close. Still reaching for your wrist when you ramble off, his thumb brushing over your pulse like its nothing. Or when he still calls you amour and cherie in that voice, like he doesn’t remember that it’s all fake.

And you let him. You always do.

Because it’s easier than admitting the truth. That you’ve started memorizing the sound of his laugh. Or the shape of the vein in his throat when he’s super focused. That your stomach twists into knots whenever his eyes crinkle from a smile that feellike its just for you. That you’ve memorized the shape of his mouth when he says your name, whether it’s joyful, annoyed, or exhausted, it’s always gentle. Like he cares. Like he means everything.

And that’s what makes it unbearable.

Not the way he touches you when people are watching. Not the photos or the constant headlines.

It’s the way he looks at you when no one else is around.

Like it’s not pretend at all.

-

It starts in the most ridiculous way.

One stupid photo, taken from the wrong angle at the wrong moment, and suddenly you’re everywhere. 

LECLERC’S SECRET FLING???? MYSTERY WOMAN OR HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT?

You outright groan when you see it. You’re still in the motorhome, alone with the hum of the mini refrigerator behind you and the harsh morning sun streaming through the tinted windows. Your laptop is wide open, untouched, but all you can do is stare at your phone.

Your face is angled slightly toward him. His head tipped just enough to suggest something intimate briefly between FP1 and a strategy meeting, your hand grazing the curve of his back as you both maneuvered through the crowd. He laughed at something you said, probably something dumb, but the photo caught that too. His mouth curved upward, eyes crinkled in your direction. Like something romantic, private, real.

Your stomach churns.

A knock sounds, soft and almost polite, before the door opens anyways. You don’t have to look up to know its him. His scent hits you first. Clean, something warm and familiar that always lingers too long.

“Did you see the news?” Charles asks, closing the motorhome door with a soft click.

You turn the phone screen toward him, “What do you think?”

He glances at the screen for a mere second and huffs out a soft laugh. Not surprised, not even irritated. Just amused, like this is a game.

“Didn’t know you were considered a mystery woman. Let alone my mystery woman,” he says, stepping closer, a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Didn’t know I needed PR clearance to walk beside you,” you reply, brows raised. Your voice is sharp, not in the mood to be flirted with, even if its playful.

His smile dims, just a fraction. “I know it’s annoying.”

“It’s beyond annoying,” you drop the phone beside you. “They don’t even bother to use my name! Just ‘female engineer from inside Ferrari’. Like I’m nothing.”

His gaze softens while he leans against the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he sighs, “They’ll get bored anyways.”

“Will they?” You meet his eyes. “Or are they going to spin this until I’m some mystery girlfriend hiding in plain sight?”

Neither of you speak for a few moments.

“It’s not the worst thing in the world, is it?”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, not looking at you as he says, “They’re going to write the story either way. Maybe it’s better if we control the narrative.”

You lean back, studying him. “Control?”

Charles finally looks up, and when he does, its with that expression he only wears when he’s working through something dangerous. That soft stillness thats half strategy, half vulnerability.

“They think we’re together already,” he says. “What if we just…let them?”

The silence stretches and you just a stare at him, waiting for the joke, the amused smirk, the cocky laugh. But it doesn’t come.

Because he’s serious.

“You want to fake date me,” You say flatly.

“I want to stop giving them something to chase,” He corrects you, his voice almost a whisper. “If they think we’re together, they might back off.”

You begin to shake your head slowly. “That’s insane.”

He exhales through his nose, not denying it. “Think about it. A few appearances, some hand holding. A smile or two when cameras are around. No one gets hurt.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right…no one.”

He stands then, crosses the room and leans against the counter next to you, too close like he always is. His gaze skims your face.

“You wouldn’t have to change anything,” his voice is soft. “You’re already next to me most weekends. You’re already in photos. You already…” He pauses. Swallows. Breathes. “You already look at me like it could be true.”

Your heart drops. You open your mouth. Close it again.

He’s not joking. He’s asking.

And the worst part is, part of you wants to say yes.

You study him for a long moment. The way his lashes cast shadows over his cheeks when he blinks. The way his hair falls softly over his forehead, sweaty and messy.

“You’re really serious about this.”

He nods. “Only if you are.”

You reach for your phone again, staring at the photo, before putting it face down.

“When do we start?”

-

You feel him before you see him.

There’s a palpable shift in the air…familiar. And he’s there. Just standing outside the hospitality suite, dressed from head to toe in Ferrari red, with his sunglasses slipping on the bridge of his nose as he gives a small nod to someone you don’t recognize. He doesn’t look at you immediately. He doesn’t have to.

Regardless, your pulse spikes.

Your grip on the tablet in your hands tightens, a poor attempt at grounding yourself. You’ve walked beside him before. Done this dance dozens of times. But never with eyes on you like this. Never with your face wrapped up in headlines and edits that call you something you’re simply not.

Charles falls into step with you as if its the most casual thing in the world. As if the press haven’t been breathing down your necks. His scent hits you first, like always, clean and expensive and something so him that it unsettles something deep in between your ribs.

“Ready?” His voice is smooth, and he still isn’t looking at you.

You nod, forgetting that he isn’t looking at you before you mutter a soft I suppose in his direction.

The paddock is nothing but a storm of noise and motion by the time you step out. The sun is shining blindly, heat simmering off the asphalt while other workers buzz around between the garages. Photographers and fans hover like flies on a horses back. 

Your heart is already fluttering in your throat, but you manage to keep your face composed. Neutral. As if there aren’t dozens of cameras fixed on you. Waiting.

His hand brushes against yours…barely. It seems like nothing at first, just the back of his hand brushing your fingers as you walk side by side.

But then it happens again. This time on purpose.

And then you feel it. His fingers curling, slipping through yours with a care that feels almost too fucking intimate.

You freeze. Not noticeably. Your steps don’t falter. But something inside you, burns. 

The cameras go wild. 

You hear it in the shouts, in the constant click click click as people realize what they’re witnessing. Voices shout from nearly every direction. Some screaming his name, others screaming yours. Your heart thuds like a drum behind your ribs.

And then, he stops.

Right there in the middle of the paddock, with the crowd pressing in, with reporters angling their mics and cameras, he fucking halts. His grip tightens around your hand, not painfully, but enough to make you stop walking too.

You turn, confused and startled. But he’s already facing you.

The sun glints off his sunglasses, casting shadows across his face, but its his stillness that steals your breath more than anything. His thumb brushes once, slow and grounding, along your hand as he speaks.

“You okay?” He asks, voice quiet and nearly lost in all the surrounding noise.

Your throat constricts. “I’m fine.” But it’s not convincing. Not to him at least.

He leans in slightly, and for a second, you think he might say something but instead his hand squeezes yours again, then slowly his fingers move. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your knuckles, the exact curve of your wrist, the shape of your hand against his.

And quickly, so quickly that no one but you could catch it, he tilts his head and lowers his sunglasses just enough for his eyes to peek over the top. 

And that is what undoes you. Its not a look for show. His green eyes are dark and searching. He just looks at you like he’s reading his favorite book. Like he wants to consume every single written word of yours.

“You sure?” He says, like the answer actually matters.

You nod.

And within a millisecond his sunglasses slide back into place with one push of his fingers. Mask on again. But his hand never leaves yours.

And you start walking again. Casual, composed, fake.

-

You don’t even bother knocking. Just push the door open with your shoulder and shuffle in like it’s your room. Your shoes are already off before the door fully shuts, mumbling something about your spine being broken as you toss your team jacket over the back of a chair.

Charles doesn’t even look up. He’s on the floor, back against the bed, legs stretched out in front of him.

“You’re late,” He says, voice muffled by the few bites of pasta in his mouth.

“You’re alive,” You shoot back.

“Barely.”

You collapse beside him, shoulder knocking into his as you groan and sink into the carpet as if its the best thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah, well. Next time, try not to scare me half to death on lap 52,” You mutter, pulling your hair out of its pony and letting it fall. “I don’t need to explain to the FIA why I dropped dead.”

He chuckles. It’s low, tired, and warm.

“I’ll  try to keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want to traumatize you.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “You traumatize me daily.”

His head turns towards you, raising an eyebrow as he places his dish onto the ground. “You love it.”

You snort. “I tolerate it.”

“Do you want my pasta?” He pushes the bowl towards you like a peace offering.

You stare at it. “You’re so romantic.”

“Not romantic,” he softly smiles. “Just generous, cherie.”

“You’re luck you’re pretty.”

“You’re lucky I don’t care to fight right now.”

The room is dim, only one lamp on by the bed, casting a warm glow across the room and his face. His hoodie’s rumpled, socks mismatched, and hair still damp from the shower he rushed through.

It’s stupid how at home he looks right now. Not the polished version. Just Charles, the boy who can’t sit still and lets you steal his hoodies whenever your room gets too cold.

“I’d let you win,” You shrug your shoulders.

His brows furrow slightly. “Win what?”

“A fight.”

His grin spreads slowly across his lips. “Oh, so you’re feeling soft tonight, hm?”

“Soft. Exhausted. Whatever you wanna call it.”

“I like you like this,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t make your chest cave in.

“Like what? Emotionally unstable and half-asleep?”

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile breaks through anyway. 

You both fall into an easy silence.

Comfortable.

-

You’re sitting sideways in the too-small balcony chair, legs draped over one arm, glass of wine in hand, with your head tilted back as you laugh. Charles is sitting on the floor beside you, his socked foot nudging the edge of your chair every now and then like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

“You were so fucking smug,” you say, pointing your glass at him. “And the audacity on lap 37?”

He smirks, leaning his head back agains the sliding glass door. “You were on the radio sounding like you were about to reach through the headset and strangle me.”

“I was! You kept ignoring the delta!”

“I did not-“

“You definitely did! You lifted once in turn ten and then just fucking sent it.”

He’s laughing now. Its full bodied and messy, his eyes crinkling at the corners. And in this moment you decide, you love this laugh. This laugh is yours.

“Okay,” he says, catching his breath. “Maybe I did ignore. Just a little.”

“So I was right?”

He takes a long sip of his drink, eyes on yours over the rim of his glass. “Don’t push it.”

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m always right.”

“You’re always loud,” he counters. “I’ve never met someone who could make an entire briefing feel like a personal attack.”

“I’m passionate.”

“You’re terrifying.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and he’s still looking at you like there’s something about this moment that he wants to memorize.

-

The room is dark except for the flickering light from the TV, the sound low enough that you have to lean in to catch some of the lines, not that either of you really care.

The rain outside has been tapping against the windows since dinner, soft and steady, with the curtains half-drawn. It smells like shampoo and hotel linen and the candy bar you split earlier, the wrapper still crumpled on top of the nightstand, forgotten beside two water bottles and a single sock that might be his or might be yours.

Your lying on your stomach, head propped up on a pillow, legs bent at the knees with your feet swaying as you scroll through the Netflix menu for, what feels like, the seventh time. Charles is stretched out beside you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lying between you, fingers brushing the edge of the blanket like he’s unsure if he wants to move them closer.

“Pick something,” he groans, his voice thick with tiredness. “You’ve been scrolling for ten years.”

“I’m feeling out the vibe,” you reply. “You don’t understand.”

“You picked Spaceballs last time.”

“And you loved it.”

He groans, dragging a pillow over his face. You laugh, loud and bright, and Charles turns just enough to look at you. The screen casts you in soft light.

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches you for a second too long. And then like it’s normal, he reaches for the back of your shirt and tugs it down where the fabric has ridden up, his knuckles grazing warm skin as he smooths it into place.

“You’re always doing that,” You mumble, slightly dazed.

He doesn’t deny it.

“It just bugs me when you’re not covered,” he says, almost to himself only.

You want to tease him, want to say something clever, but the way he says it makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not ready to think about.

So instead, you settle on a movie. Some stupid, forgettable rom-com, and throw the remote between you with a sigh.

At some point, maybe around the third scene of the movie, you shift. Not deliberately.

Just a slow, natural thing. One of those absentminded movements made out of comfort and sheer exhaustion. You start leaning into him, just slightly. Your head dipping forward, shoulder brushing against his arm, and your elbow resting a little closer to his ribcage than it was twenty minutes ago. You don’t even realize it at first. It just happens.

Charles, on his end, doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t stiffen. Doesn’t tense. Instead, he shifts too.

It’s not much. The way his body tilts just slightly toward yours. The way his hand, once resting flat agains the mattress, curls upwards so that the back of it now brushes against the edge of your waist whenever you breathe.

You shift again, slower this time, letting your cheek rest against the slope of his shoulder, his cotton hoodie soft beneath your skin, smelling faintly of detergent and something warm. Something you’ve begun to associate with home. 

You don’t move.

He doesn’t either.

You both just let it happen.

-

It starts with a spoonful of cereal to the face. 

Not yours. His.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed in a hoodie that’s definitely not yours (it’s his and he’s already made a hoke about it), one hand deep in a box of granola, the other scrolling on your phone, when Charles makes the mistake of saying something smug about your snoring.

“I don’t snore,” You say almost immediately, without looking up.

“Oh, yes you do,” he counters from where he’s standing near the little counter, pouring milk into a bowl. “You sound like a chainsaw.”

You blink at him.

Then, silently, reach for the complimentary spoon, dip it into your bowl of cereal, and flick it directly at his chest.

It splatters against the front of his t-shirt, clinging to the cotton.

He looks down and simply stares at the damage. Then up at you.

“You did not just-“

“I warned you!”

“You did not-“

And then its absolute chaos as he lunges.

You shriek, laughing, cereal long forgotten as you scramble to the far side of the bed, but he’s faster…years of sharp reflexes working unfairly in your favor as he reaches out and grabs your waist, tackling you into the pillows.

“No, Charles…Charles, please!”

“You did this to yourself!”

“Truce! Truce!”

“Too late.”

His hands are gentle, even as he’s tickling you. Even as you flail and laugh and grab at his wrists like you could stop him. Which you can’t, because his grip is ridiculously strong and the room is already echoing with your wheezing.

Eventually, he stops.

Maybe because he’s laughing too hard. Maybe cause he notices the way you’re curled beneath him, face flushed and eyes shining. 

And for one very long moment, he goes still

You both do.

Both frozen. Smiling.

But it fades a little because suddenly there’s this change that feels heavier than it should. A shift in the air that neither of you meant to invite in, but it’s here, demanding.

He clears his throat and rolls off of you with a soft groan.

“You’re the worst person ever ever,” he says, falling onto the mattress beside you.

“You started it.”

He throws the nearest pillow at you. “You cereal bombed me.”

“You deserved it.”

Another moment of silence passes.

Then casually, almost too casually, he says, “You can keep the hoodie, by the way.”

You blink. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Looks better on you.”

You glance at him, but he’s not looking at you.

No. He’s just lying there, arms folded behind his head, with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth like he didn’t just light a very dangerous fire.

And you don’t say anything. You just tug the hoodie a little closer around you.

-

The paddock is mostly empty by the time you finish up. The sun is low, and you’re walking a few steps ahead of him on the track, laughing at something he said. Not the polite kind of laugh people give him in interviews. But a real, loud laugh.

That’s the first mistake.

Because Charles is watching you. Not in the casual, friendly way he always has, but really watching you. And for the first time since this whole thing started, something in his chest pulls.

You glance back at him, smiling. “What?”

He blinks once, caught. “Nothing,” He starts to shake his head, trying to shake off the feeling. “You’re just…in a good mood.”

You slow down so that you’re walking beside each other again. “What? I can’t be happy?”

“No, you can. You just…” He trails off, lost in his own thoughts, before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. You’re just different today.”

You laugh, softer this time. “Maybe I like being your fake girlfriend.” You say it as a joke. It’s always a joke.

But Charles’s smile falters, just a fraction.

And that’s when it happens. Right there. That’s when he realizes he doesn’t want it to be fake.

You keep walking, your eyes scanning the track like you’re picturing tomorrow’s data in your head already. Charles tries…really, really tries, to slip back into that same rhythm. The one where you’re just his engineer, just his best friend, just the person he trusts most in the world as of lately.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Because you’ve always been that person.

And now there’s a weight in his chest every time you smile at someone else, a hum under his skin every time you say his name, and suddenly your laugh isn’t just nice to hear. It’s necessary. Like a drug. A song he never wants to stop playing.

The breeze picks up a little, carrying the light scent of rubber, and a strand of your hair blows across your face, rubbing against your cheek. You tuck it back without thinking. The motion is small, but it somehow feels intimate. Stupidly intimate. Like something only someone in love would take notice of.

Charles swallows and looks away.

“You good?” You ask, noticing the way his shoulders stiffened slightly.

He nods, almost too quickly. “Yeah, just got a wave of exhaustion.”

You don’t press. You never do. You let him have his silences, even if they stretch too long, like right now. 

You’re talking again, about strategy or the tires, but he’s not really listening anymore. 

He’s thinking about your hands. The way you rested them on his chest during the last media stunt, your fingers spread flat over his heart like you didn’t know what you were touching.

He’s thinking about the fact he didn’t even flinch.

He’s thinking about how he liked it.

You say something funny and laugh, and Charles lets out one too. But it’s small, only half there.

Because it’s not funny anymore.

Because he’s beginning to look at you like he’s already lost you, and you don’t even know that he wants you yet.

And when you reach over to gently tug at his elbow, teasing him about being such a slow walker today, he knows it will only take one moment. One moment to fall completely, stupidly, in love with you.

And you’re just smiling like it’s all a game.

-

It’s late in the afternoon, just after FP2, and the air inside the motorhome has a tired kind of warmth. The kind of energy that once pulsed throughout the room has now dulled into a low murmur. 

You’re curled into he corner of the bench, tablet in hand, thumb swiping purposely through the sector times that begin to blur because you’ve been staring at numbers all day. Your back aches, neck’s tight, and you’ve probably read the same stats of numbers three times while retaining none of it.

All while trying your best to not acknowledge Charles across from you.

Charles. Sitting relaxed, legs stretched out, legs lazily crossed over one another at his ankles. You don’t look at him, not directly at least. But you always feel him.

You can sense his movement more than you see it. The soft pull of gravity as he crosses the room with such ease that no one bothers to notice. His body finds its way beside you, his thighs pressing into yours, his shoulders against your arm.

You don’t look up because you don’t need to.

He leans in until you can feel the warmth of his breath at your temple, his faint scratch of stubble barely grazing your skin.

“What are you changing?” His voice curls its way into the space between your ear and your neck, and it settles there. Warm. Lingering.

You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, something that doesn’t sound like he’s unraveling you. “Playing around with the rear balance,” you say almost too quickly. “That first sector was a mess.”

He hums in agreement, half thoughtful, half amused. And he’s so close that it vibrates through you.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lean back. Doesn’t pretend this was just about data.

He stays close, too close, almost always. His body angled towards you, shoulders brushing against your arms, thighs pressed against yours with ease. Familiar. Like he knows exactly how far he can lean into you.

And then his hand rests on your thigh. It lands softly, just above your knee, the heat of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your pants. His thumb brushes once. Barely.

Then again. 

You don’t flinch. You don’t correct him. You don’t glance around to see if anyone notices because you don’t care. 

It’s normal.

-

He hadn’t said much on the flight back. Hadn’t looked at anyone after the race either. Not to the media, not the engineers, and not even the fans who were leaning over the barricade chanting his name like he hadn’t lost the entire race from a single lock-up.

You watched him in the garage, helmet on too long, gloves clenched in his lap like he didn’t trust his hands to open.

You waited. You always did.

Now it’s past midnight and the hotel is silent. You’re half-asleep when you hear it. A soft knock, barely audible. You lie still, unsure if you’re imagining it.

Then again.

Three quiet knocks.

You pull yourself out of bed slowly, dragging the blanket around your shoulders, padding barefoot to the door with sleep covered eyes.

You peep through the hole before unlocking it.

Open it. And Charles is there. Barefoot.

Sweatpants and a hoodie thrown on like he couldn’t care less what he looked like. His eyes are tired. Not the good kind. The kind of tired that lives behind the eyes.

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. And you don’t ask why he’s here.

You step back wordlessly and let him in, closing the door behind him as he moves past you like he’s on autopilot.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

Because the way he’s looking at you, his eyes heavy and rimmed with pain that he doesn’t let anyone else see, says everything.

He stands in the middle of the room for a second, like he’s unsure if he should sit or speak or leave.

“I fucked it up,” he finally says, voice flat. “We had it all right. All of it. The pace, the tires. I fucking had-“ He stops mid sentence, his jaw locked so tight as if it hurts to talk.

“I saw,” Your voice is soft, soothing.

But he shakes his head once, harshly. “I don’t need you to tell me it wasn’t my fault.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

His eyes flick up then. Guarded. “You weren’t?”

You shake your head.

You cross the room toward him slowly, barefoot, the hotel blanket still draped around you like a gown, and stop just in front of him. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, close enough to see the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

“Come here,” you whisper, barely louder than the rain outside.

He hesitates, for a mere second, but then he’s moving. Softly.

He steps into you and lets you fold your arms around him. Lets his forehead press into the skin of your shoulder, lets his hands settle on the dips of your waist that makes your chest ache, because for someone so fierce, Charles has always touched you like you’re something fragile.

You hold him. 

You feel his breath against your neck, feel the way his body is barely trembling beneath your arms.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur, your lips brushing the softness of his hair. “You can just be.”

He nods against your collarbone.

He just stays there, wrapped in your arms. You slide a hand into his hair, fingers combing through the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

Eventually, he shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy. “You’re the only place I don’t have to be anything,” He says quietly. “Just me.”

And even though it makes your heart ache, you just nod.

“You never need to be anything else.” You whisper. “Not with me.”

And when you pull him toward the bed, when he lies down with his face partially hidden in the crook of your neck, neither of you speak. You both lay in the silence. 

-

The mirror is fogged up. 

You’ve both been back for less than five minutes, barely kicked off your shoes, and he’s already standing in the middle of the hotel bathroom with his shirt half off, brows furrowed, rotating his shoulder like he’s pretending it doesn’t ache.

“You’re doing that thing again,” you say from the doorway.

He glances toward you. “What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

He exhales. Stubborn. And looks away.

“You’re a shit liar,” You mutter, brushing past him to grab the icy-hot gel from the counter. “You’ve been favoring your other side since the second stint.”

He shrugs, or tries to at least. Winces instead. “Didn’t want to talk about it.”

You roll your eyes, flicking the cap off and motioning for him to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Sit.”

He does. He knows better than to argue with you…most of the time.

You lean over him and start working the gel into his shoulder with slow, careful fingers. You don’t even think about it. It’s not weird. It’s not intimate.

It’s Charles.

You’re draped in his hoodie. Oversized, soft from too many washes, sleeves falling over your hands, and your breath hitches as he leans forward so you can dig deeper into his muscle.

His skin is hot under your fingers. He groans quietly, head dropped forward, and you laugh.

“So dramatic.”

“It hurts,” he grumbles.

You press harder, just to make him squirm. And he does, a hiss through his teeth, and then he laughs.

Charles’s eyes are fixed on the floor.

You press your fingers into the tight knot just beside his collarbone, and it takes almost everything in him to not lean into you. Not to bury his face into your neck and tell you.

Tell you that your hands feel like home. Tell you that he can’t pretend anymore.

But he doesn’t.

Because you’re just smiling at him like this is nothing.

Because when you finish, you wipe your hands against the nearby towel, and pat him gently on top of the head. “Good as new.”

You move past him, leaving the bathroom with a soft laugh. And he stays there. Seated. Motionless.

Hands gripping his knees like it’s the only thing keeping him from following you and pressing his mouth to yours.

-

The ballroom is gold. Actually gold.

Gold chandeliers, gold trim, light reflecting off champagne glasses and sequined gowns. The kind of place that exudes pretentious luxury. And you can’t help but think just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

You stand near the edge of the room, one hand curled loosely around a glass of wine, the other tucked into Charles’s arm.

You’re both surrounded by easy conversations and polite laughter. But none of it sticks. Because Charles can’t focus on any of it.

Not with you standing beside him like that. Not in that fucking dress.

He hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard, but the minute you stepped out of that car, it was like the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

You in black. Hair pinned up. Shoulders bare. A tiny sliver of skin exposed at the base of your spine whenever you turned.

You’re laughing at something some journalist is saying, not performative, just a soft amused laugh as you bring your wine glass up to your lips.

Charles shifts closer. Not for the cameras. Not for the sponsors. But because he wants to. Because he wants, no needs, to feel your body against his just for a second longer, to press his fingers lightly against your skin in a way that says you’re here, you’re mine, even if you don’t know it.

You don’t move or flinch, you just lean into him with that subtle softness you always do. Like your body knows his.

And that’s what kills him. The ease. The naturalness.

Because this, whatever this is, has bled into nearly everything. This has crept up beneath the edges of what was supposed to be a casual lie, and now he can’t tell where pretending ends and begins.

Still he watches as another man approaches.

Someone older. Wealthy. Someone who looks at you like you’re not already standing beside someone, like you’re available.

Charles sees the way the man’s eyes skim the lines of your body, the curve of your mouth. He watches the moment that man reaches for your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and says something that makes you smile.

And in that exact moment, something sharp and awful coils low in his chest. Hot and unfair, and deeply fucking stupid.

Because he doesn’t have the right. Not actually, at least.

He’s allowed to touch you. Allowed to whisper in your ear. Allowed to look at you. But one thing he isn’t allowed to do, is want you like this.

-

He’d stepped away for barely fifteen minutes.

Just long enough to take a photo with some of the sponsors, shake hands, and exchange polite thank you’s. 

And when he came back, you were laughing. Not at him. Not with him.

Charles’s steps falter as he spots you across the room, standing near one of the tall round tables tucked near the corner, your wine glass cradled in both hands, your smile warm.

And beside you, someone unfamiliar.

Someone tall, in a tailored navy suit, hair too perfectly styled, hand resting on the table like he owns the conversation. Charles watches, as this stranger leans in, says something low near your ear, and you tilt your head back and laugh. That real laugh. The one that makes your nose crinkle.

He feels his stomach twist.

He tries not to show it. Tries to keep walking. Because this isn’t supposed to matter. It’s all pretend.

He doesn’t get to be jealous. 

But that doesn’t stop the voice in his head from seething when he watches the man’s eyes drop to your chest. When he see’s your smile linger just a little too long for his liking.

Charles can feel it in his chest. Tight and bitter. 

And when the man reaches out, whether it was innocent or not, it doesn’t matter. Because Charles is already crossing the room.

He doesn’t rush. No, that would draw attention. But his steps are purposeful and the space between you and him disappears quickly.

You see him first.

“Hey,” you say, easy. “You remember-“

Charles cuts in smoothly. His voice even, just loud enough to interrupt, like he isn’t burning from the inside out. He doesn’t even look at the man standing next to you. Only looks at you.

“They’re asking for us,” he says. “Need more photos or something with the sponsors.”

It’s a lie. And you don’t even need to ask to know.

You can tell by the way he says it. It slips from his mouth like a reflex. Like he didn’t need to think twice before pulling you away from someone else.

But it’s Charles. And you trust him.

So you nod. “Okay. Just give me a sec-”

You don’t even finish the sentence before his hand is at your back, firm and warm. Possessive. 

There’s a pressure to his touch that makes your spine straighten, makes the uncovered skin his fingers graze buzz. Like he’s reminding you, and anyone else watching, that this is his right.

He walks beside you, closer than normal, not speaking as he steers you away from the man.

You glance back over your shoulder, offering an apologetic smile to the man, but it wavers, just slightly, when you feel Charles’s hand tighten.

Not hard. Just enough. Enough to say don’t.

The twist in your chest is unexpected. And when you’re both finally out of an earshot, you nudge him lightly with your elbow. 

“Really?” You say, eyes meeting his. “Photos?”

You try to sound amused. Like it’s all some joke. Like nothing has changed.

But he doesn’t laugh.

Instead, he keeps walking. And you can’t help but notice just how tight his jaw is clenched. And when he finally glances back down at you, you forget how to breathe for a second.

Because there’s something in his gaze that doesn’t belong to the version of Charles you normally know.

It’s too real. Too unguarded.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” His voice quiet. 

You blink, lips parting. “Charles…”

“I know,” he cuts in, eyes dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before he meets your eyes again. “I know I’m not supposed to care. I know what this is.”

He sighs, slow and quiet, as his fingers flex against your back.

“But you’re mine tonight,” He says.

And he doesn’t ask.

He’s warning. And that’s when you notice it for the first time. But you bottle it up, lock it tight, and push it into that imaginary little box of yours.

Because there is no way.

-

You’re sitting, more like slouching, on the bed in your gown, a half-empty bottle of champagne bottle still loosely gripped in your hand. Charles is slouched in the armchair across from you, suit jacket thrown somewhere in the room, white shirt rumpled, top buttons undone. His bowtie is still hanging around his neck…loose, forgotten.

The two of you are flushed. Fuzzy. Not wasted, but tipsy.

Tipsy enough to remember.

Drunk enough to stop pretending.

He gets up slowly, walking over to you with such ease, before dropping down beside you on the bed.

“You’re quiet,” he mutters, his voice edged by too much champagne and restraint.

You glance down at the bottle in your hand, then back up at him, giving him a faint smile. “So are you.”

He lets out a small laugh, almost a huff, “I’m trying not to do something stupid.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Like what?”

His eyes fall to your mouth, linger, then look back at your eyes. “Like kiss you.”

The room tilts, just a little bit. You set the bottle down on the bedside table without taking your eyes off of him, fingers trembling slightly. 

And then, you reach for him. Instinctively.

You allow your fingers to curve into the loose knot of his bowtie still hanging on his neck, tugging it as you tilt your chin up. And when your eyes flicker to his again, you whisper, “Then don’t try so hard.”

And he kisses you like the fight is finally over.

His mouth crashes into yours like you’ve both run out of time to lie. It’s heat…pure, consuming, and real.

The kiss is deeper, messier, his lips hungry against yours, your bodies moving in an unspoken urgency from holding back too long.

His hands are everywhere, dragging along your waist, the back of your neck, your ribs, your spine, tugging you closer at any given moment.

You gasp when he pushes you flat to the mattress, hovering over you as he kisses down your throat, tongue flicking against the skin right below your jaw. His teeth dragging like he knows it will make you shiver. And it does.

“Tell me you want this,” His lips brush against your collarbone. “That you want me.”

“I want this. I want you.” 

And that’s all it takes.

He’s undoing the zipper of your dress with shaky fingers, his breath catching as more of your skin is revealed beneath the palm of his hands.

Your bra is gone before you even realize he’s unclasped the back of it, and when his mouth meets your nipple, tongue slow, you arch into him with a soft cry that turns his green eyes, black.

He’s on top of you, mouth crashing into yours again, one hand gripping your thigh and pulling it higher around his waist, the other guiding himself to your slick cunt, shuddering against your folds.

And when he finally presses into you, thick and slow, filling you in a way that makes your head fall back and moan, you swear you never want to stop this from happening again.

“Christ,” he grunts, forehead pressed to yours, trying to feel all of you. “Feel so good.”

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the muscle there. “Then fuck me.”

And he does.

Harsh, deep, rhythmic thrusts that make the headboard creak and your breath escape in desperate, broken moans against his mouth. His pace is steady, hips snapping harder whenever your moans start to rise, when your nails claw into his back, when your thighs shake around him.

His mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s more hunger, more like need. He kisses you like he can’t stand not being inside of you in every way.

“Fuck, you feel like you were made for me,” he groans. “Driving me insane.”

You whimper against him, tightening your arms against his neck. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

His pace doesn’t falter. His forehead presses to yours. “You’re all I think about,” he pants. “Every fucking night.”

You’re both close. And he knows it, because his mouth finds yours again in a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue. More claiming than comfort.

And when you come, crying his name out like it’s the only word you’ve ever known, he follows. His hips pounding as he groans into your shoulder, holding you so tightly like you’ll disappear if he didn’t.

-

You’re still in your headset, arms crossed tight over tour chest as Charles climbs out of the car, pulling off his gloves with that sharp, frustrated energy that always festers under his skin when things aren’t working out the way he wants them to.

He tosses the gloves onto the seat, runs a hand through his hair, damp with swear, and gives you a look thats more of a challenge than a greeting.

You glance down at your tablet, even though you’ve looked at the data a dozen times.

“I told you to take more margin in turn six,” you say, voice calm but tight.

Charles laughs. It’s low, humorless, and bitter. “You think I don’t know how to drive my own car?”

You lift your eyes slowly, and the look you give him is sharp. “I think you’re letting your ego get in the way of your brain. Again.”

His jaw tightens and he takes a step closer. Like he wants to rattle your bones.

“You want to talk about my ego?” He asks, words laced with a dangerous edge. “You’ve been walking around like nothing happened. Like I didn’t have my tongue on your skin a few nights ago, like I wasn’t buried deep inside of you while you whispered my name like it meant something. Like I mean something.”

You inhale sharply but don’t flinch. This can’t happen here. Not in the garage.

“And you’ve been walking around like it didn’t mean something.”

He pulls off the top half of his suit, tying it around his waist in jerky, clearly annoyed movements.

“You want me to pretend it didn’t happen?” His voice hoarse now. “Fine. But don’t stand here and act like I’m the only one who did this.”

You blink. 

“I can’t afford to lose you.” You whisper.

And he gets it. And he hates it. Because he knows you’re right.

“Yeah,” his voice is a low whisper. “I know.”

-

The lights are hot.

Not warm. Not pleasant. Hot. In the way that makes your skin feel too tight and causes your eyes to ache from squinting under the glare. 

You’re standing on your mark, back straight, hands at your sides.

Charles is standing right beside you. As always.

Exactly three inches away. At least you counted three.

It’s the closest you can stand without touching him, without the brushing of his arm, without creating that electric, dangerous feeling of his hand on your back, his voice in your ear, you’re mine tonight.

You’re both pretending that it didn’t happen. Neither of you have brought it up today.

Not since he texted you late last night, just one line saying sorry if I crossed a line.

Not since you replied with it’s fine, we were drinking and tired.

It’s not fine.

Now you’re standing under a harsh spotlight with your body angled slightly toward him like always.

You smile when the photographer tells you to. Charles does it too. And he’s good at it.

He turns to you mid-shot, leaning in as if he’s whispering something sweet and private for the camera. You feel the warmth of his breath against the skin of your ear, and you fight the way your heart jumps.

“Are we okay?”

It’s the first time he’s said anything that close to something real in a week.

You keep smiling. Because the sponsor is watching. Because the cameras are still click click clicking.

Because the woman facilitating this shoot looks like she might cry if you didn’t sell this fake love story just a little bit fucking harder.

So you tilt your face toward his, press your hand to the center of his chest, right over his heart…and you nod, like you’re agreeing with some romantic phrase he could’ve said.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “We’re okay.”

The room echoes with praise. “Beautiful, you two.”

Your ears are buzzing and you barely hear the next instruction. Something about posing closer. Hands on waists. More intimacy. 

Charles moves first. He steps forward and wraps his arm around your waist like it hasn’t been a week since he nearly broke you open with one quiet, possessive sentence. 

You place your hand on his chest again. Because thats where it belongs now.

Because this is what you’re good at.

Pretending.

-

The elevator is quiet. And not a comfortable kind. No, this is the kind that makes your tight throat and chest heavy.

The numbers tick upward, each one feeling like a warning.

Charles stands beside you, hands in his pockets, with his shoulders pulled tight. You can feel the tension in the way his foot taps against the floor.

You speak first, voice too light. “Long day, hm?”

It’s pathetic, really. You hate the way it sounds coming out of your mouth, small and weak.

Charles doesn’t look at you, but his jaw clenches.

“You didn’t even look at me once today,” he says, and its not an accusation.

You blink, startled by how hurt he sounds. You open your mouth to respond, but don’t get the chance. 

“You didn’t even laugh,” he looks down at his feet. “Not a real one.”

You glance at him, and he finally shifts to face you. And the look in his eyes makes your stomach turn. Because he doesn’t look angry. No, he looks tired. He looks vulnerable. 

“I didn’t mean to make things complicated,” he says, his voice barely above the sound of the elevator noises.

“It was a long week. We were tired. Drinking.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You lean against the wall, holding your hands in front of you tightly.

“The problem is I didn’t say enough,” he mutters. “I meant what I said. At the gala. In the hallway. In your bed.”

And you flinch.

Not because you don’t remember, but because you do.

Every breath. Every touch.

“Don’t.” You swallow hard.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this harder.”

He laughs, once. But it’s bitter. Hollow. “You think this is me making it hard?”

“We crossed a line.”

His eyes flicker, and his voice is so low when he speaks next.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. I’ve been standing on it for weeks. Maybe longer. Only difference is I let myself believe I wasn’t alone on it.”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and he takes a step toward you. Not touching, but close enough.

“Tell me you didn’t feel it,” he says. “Tell me it was just sex. That it meant nothing to you.”

You don’t answer. Because the truth is there, dying to be let out. But you can’t.

So you remain still.

And when the elevator doors open on your floor, you step out with your stomach in your throat, your feet hitting the carpet with soft thuds.

You don’t look back.

But you hear it.

The sound of his hand catching the doors before they close, the sudden groan of the elevator stalling. And then, footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Angry.

You stop walking, but don’t turn around until he’s already there. His breath is quick and his jaw is locked tight.

“Are you really just gonna walk away?” He asks, his voice is sharp, but not loud. Not cruel. Just full of emotions he doesn’t know how to say calmly anymore.

You turn halfway, just enough to see the frustration etched on his face. His brows drawn tight, mouth tight, fists clenched at his sides like if he doesn’t, he’ll just reach for you again.

“What do you want me to do, Charles?” Your voice is quiet. “Pretend that night didn’t happen? Or pretend it did, and it meant nothing?”

“I want you to stop pretending it didn’t mean everything,” he snaps, taking another step forward, closing the space between you both. “I want you to stop looking at me like I’m asking you for something that isn’t already yours.”

Your skin buzzes.

“I know you feel this,” his voice is shaking now. “Because I see the way you look at me. I feel the way you hold me. The way you whisper my name.. So…don’t stand here and pretend like it was just sex.”

You feel yourself begin to shake.

And all you can say is, “I can’t afford to need you.”

His eyes flicker, anger giving way to something hollow. “Too late,” he says. “You already do.”

And then he turns. Walks away. And leaves you standing there.

-

The garage is nearly empty. Just you and Charles, still in uniform. Like clockwork. 

The scent of oil and burnt rubber clings to the air while you sit, finishing up your notes. Or at least pretending to.

He’s leaning against the edge of the workbench, arms folded, gaze flicking to you every few seconds. Like he wants to say something. Like it’s burning him alive.

You feel it too. 

So, you set your tablet down. “Are you going to say something, or just keep staring at me?”

His jaw clenches. Then, “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

You look up at him. “And yet, you keep bringing it up.”

“Because you act like it didn’t matter. Like it was nothing.”

You exhale slowly, “What do you want me to say, Charles?”

And he’s pushing off the bench, taking a few steps closer. “You’re angry because I meant it. And I’m angry that you’re still pretending you don’t feel this.”

Your pulse stutters and he’s close now. So close that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

“Don’t do this again.” You say, quietly, like a whisper in the wind.

“Why?” He tilts his head slightly. “Because if I say it again, you’ll have to admit it’s real?”

He takes another step. “I think about you all the time. Touching you all the time. And not just when we’re in front of people. Especially when we’re alone. I wake up thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you when you’re not performing, when no one is watching, when it’s just us.”

Your hands tighten into fists.

“I want to hold you late in the night and tell you things I’m not allowed to say. I want to call you mine  and it actually be true.”

“And you think this is easy for me?” It’s the first time you’ve broken character.

He blinks, slightly shocked. Like he can’t believe he has you starting to talk.

“I go home at night smelling like you,” you whisper, like it hurts to say. “Wearing your clothes. Curling into bedsheets that still feel like your hands were on me only hours ago. And I pretend him fine.”

You look back up at him then, barely holding it together. He’s wide-eyed, not taking the risk to say one word, not when he finally has you speaking.

“I pretend I don’t notice how every part of me aches when you leave. That I don’t hear your voice even when you’re not around.” You swallow hard.

“I go through the motions. Tell myself that this is all fake, and it’s just something we signed up for. But then I catch you looking at me like that and it feels like my ribs might crack.”

His eyes are slightly glassy now. But you keep going, because there’s no going back from this. No way out of this, not with him being so persistent. Not when your emotions could swallow you whole if you hide them any longer.

“I come back to my room at night, wearing your hoodies, and pretend that it’s just because I’m cold and that they’re comfortable. I pretend I’m not holding it closer to me whenever I miss you.”

Silence.

“I love you. And it’s killing me, because every day I have to pretend that I don’t.”

“Say it again.” 

You blink. “What?”

“Please,” he begs. “Say it again. I didn’t think I’d ever hear it.”

Your throat tightens, but you do it anyways. “I love you.”

He surges forward, pressing his forehead against yours, shaking as he whispers, “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what it feels like not to be.”

His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face toward his. And then he kisses you. 

Like it’s everything. 

Like he’s finally. Finally, fucking home.

[illusioninfnty]

"it's a scream, baby!" ↠ day 15 ; keeping quiet

↠ billy loomis x reader x stu macher

fandom: scream word count: 3.9k warnings: nsfw 18+, gf!billy and stu, DUBCON, semi-public sex, homoerotic undertones, mentions of gore, cheating, degradation, dirty talk, thigh fucking, double penetration, knife play if you squint, gagging, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, cum eating, fingering, my stu bias definitely shows sorry guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You weren’t really much of a party person, and all of your friends were aware of that. It was why none of them gave much resistance to the idea of you slipping away.

Stu’s house was insanely crowded, more than his usual parties. It was obviously because of the recent killing spree by the mysterious masked killer who had yet to be caught. Your general anxiety in loud spaces mixed with that of the unknown killer running around had you even more paranoid.

“Be careful!” Sidney calls out and Tatum waves as you make your way up the staircase. You send a small smile back as you weave your way through drunk teenagers stumbling all around, looking for more drinks.

You’ve been in Stu’s house plenty of times, having been friends with him for years at this point. You make a beeline straight for his bedroom, hoping that no one was in there hooking up so you could have a quiet place to decompress. 

You knock loudly on his door, pressing your ear against it as the loud music and teens make it hard to hear inside. There’s no answer to your knowledge, and you slowly peek your head in.

No one is in the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shut the door behind you and plop down on Stu’s bed, laying yourself out in a heap of exhaustion.

A bang from somewhere inside the room startles you, making you jump up from your seat. You notice that Stu’s closet door is slightly ajar, and figure that something inside fell down. You make your way over, the closet creaking as you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips and you step back after seeing what it was that fell.

It was one of the ghostface masks. 

You slowly back away, eyes wide in disbelief with what you were seeing. No. It wasn’t possible, right? Stu couldn’t have been the killer; it made no sense. You bend down and cautiously pick up the mask.

It looks like your average store-bought cheap costume accessory. You inspect it closer, but bring a hand up to your mouth and almost drop the mask when you see what’s stained on it.

Small flecks of blood, all spattered across the edges.

The sound of the door creaking has you throwing the mask back into the closet and slamming the door, chest heaving as you pretend as though you weren’t searching through it.

In walks Stu, his trademark grin spread wide across his face. 

“Now what are you doing in here?” he teases suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. He closes the door and leans against it.

But clearly you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, because the smile instantly drops from Stu’s face. “Have you been…snooping in my things?”

You bite your lip and can feel your heart drop in your chest. “What? No! I just came in here to rest.” Your voice sounds incredibly shaking and you know there’s no way he’s buying it.

Stu’s eyes narrow, and he stalks closer to you. You back away in return, but his long strides make it difficult to put distance between the two of you. “I think you’re lying to me.”

He utters out your name in a warning tone. At this point, you know, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know that he’s the Ghostface killer. You make a feeble attempt to duck past Stu and make a run for it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest, completely restraining you.

You try your best at escaping. You pound on his chest, wiggle in his grip, and even try biting him. That fails miserably and Stu slaps his large palm against your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help.

He drags you over to the bed, and you start to kick your heels against his legs. You aren’t sure what he’s capable of anymore. Is this the moment you die? Is Stu going to kill you? You let out a choked sob underneath his palm, clawing at his hand but to no avail.

You push back against him with all of the force of your body, yet Stu remains solid. “Be quiet,” he mutters in your ear. 

And then you feel it. On your backside, you can feel Stu getting hard. You whimper in fear, and your body goes limp. But he clearly notices that you could feel it, and he chuckles darkly.

“Got me excited with all that struggling, babe.” He shamelessly rubs himself against you, his erection fully hard beneath his pants now.

Despite the terror that you feel in that moment, you couldn’t help but moan silently.

You would be lying if you said you never thought of hooking up with your friend. Stu was hot, he was funny, and if Tatum was a reliable source, he also had a huge dick.

If fucking Stu could save you from death, you would gladly let him use you however he wished.

You quickly concoct a plan in your head—a lame one, but a plan—to seduce Stu in an attempt to hopefully convince him not to kill you afterwards.

Before you can even attempt to put your plan into action, the bedroom door creaks open. “Shit,” you hear Stu mutter under his breath. Both you and him turn together, and in walks Billy, sauntering as he usually does.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow as he surveys the position you and Stu are in.

“Did I interrupt something?” Billy smirks, his eyes going dark. You look up through your eyelashes at Stu, who presses you closer to him, as if warning you not to signal for help. He shakes his head at Billy.

“She knows, man.”

Your body goes completely rigid in Stu’s grip. A chill runs down your spine.

Billy was involved in this Ghostface shit too? Well, that actually surprised you less than Stu. Billy was kind of a horror junkie in secret, even rivaling Randy, and he always had this strange look in his eye whenever he thought no one was looking.

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Oh?” 

The tone in his voice is sinister, much different than what you’ve heard from him before.

He strides over, pulling out a knife from his pocket and holding it out towards you.

You shriek, but it comes out all muffled. You try to tilt your head away from where Billy points the knife to your chin, but Stu keeps his hand solid, forcing your head forward.

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing you for your failed attempts to escape.

“I really didn’t want to kill you now, sweetheart, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to fall. You still helplessly struggle against Stu’s grip, choking back sobs. You so desperately want Stu to release his hand, want to beg the two of them to keep you alive. You’re two seconds away from sounding like you belong in a bad porno that the boys rent from the video store where the woman says please! I’ll do anything!

But you don’t need to do any of that. Because before Billy starts slicing and dicing and stabbing at you, he backs away and looks Stu up and down. He then barks out a laugh.

“What, did chasing her around get you all stiff?”

Stu grins cheekily and grinds his erection up against your butt. You let out a surprised moan under his palm, grabbing onto his forearm. “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck her, man.”

Billy eyes shift between you and Stu, before pausing on you. A smirk slowly grows across his features until it morphs into a toothy grin. You can see the way his cock begins to twitch in his jeans and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m not going to let you fuck her alone tonight.”

As if Stu was waiting this whole time for Billy’s approval, the hand that was restricting your mouth moves off and down to his jeans. Before you can even think about opening your mouth, Billy brings the knife back up your face, right under your chin forcing you to keep your mouth closed and head tilted up to meet his eyes.

“If you say a word I’ll cut your throat open and stick my cock in it.” He imitates the motion of slicing the knife across your throat. 

You swallow harshly and can’t control the way you tremble under Stu’s hold. But the depraved part of you has your core throbbing, at the carnal lust that fills his eyes, so desperately wanting them both to get to fucking you sooner rather than later. 

Scoffing in his face, you try your best to put up a calm front. “Are you guys all bark and no bite? All I hear is talking but no action.”

“Oh you’ll be getting action soon, baby.” You can feel Stu’s erect cock rubbing against your backside and the way that his arousal stains your shirt. His hand holds it at the base as he guides it between your legs, slowly fucking you between your thighs. You look down to see the bulging red tip of his cock leaking beads of precum as it penetrates the plush skin of your legs with every thrust.

Billy takes his knife and slices your skirt right down the middle, the two pieces falling to shreds at your feet.

“Yeah, there it is!” Stu yells as his long fingers poke and prod at your pussy through your underwear until it soaks the fabric through. “All nice and wet for us now.”

He moves the material to the side of your puffy lips and without so much as a warning sticks his cock right inside.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out as quietly as you can with the intense pleasure. It slides in easily with how wet you’ve gotten over the past couple of minutes. You arch your back into Stu as his long cock bullies its way inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Stu begins thrusting immediately, the sounds of your skin slapping together being the loudest thing in the room.

“Such a dirty little slut,” Stu’s voice teases, laughter evident in his tone. His arm around your waist holds you up as he pounds into you at lightning speed, bouncing you up and down his cock. Your feet lift off the ground ever-so-slightly as he pulls you up. “But I guess I’m kind of a slut to. Always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Through your lust-filled haze, you can see Billy stroking himself through his boxers, jeans already unzipped and pulled down. He stares at both you and Stu and where the two of you connect. 

“You gonna join man?” Stu lifts you up under your thighs. The action lifts your feet up in the air and exposes your pussy directly in Billy’s line of view. Stu pulls his cock out enough so just the head remains inside, and starts fingering around your lips.

You gasp at the sensation, your arms gripping his own and your walls clenching down desperately onto him. Stu’s fingers make a v shape and pull your lips open wide. “There’s plenty of room for you in here.” 

“N-no!” You sob out, clawing at Stu and kicking your legs. The implication is not subtle at all, and the fear has you clenching even tighter onto him. There was no way that you could fit both of them in your pussy. Stu’s cock is already thick and fills you completely; you don’t think you could take another one without breaking.

Billy continues to palm himself above his underwear, the head of his cock poking out from the elastic band. “Fuck yeah, now your speaking my language!”

“No! Billy!” You shake your head wildly, tears threatening to fall from your swollen eyes. “Stop! It won’t fit!”

He rolls his eyes and takes his hard cock out of his boxers, pumping it with a few solid strokes. “Stop complaining.” 

“He’ll make it fit,” Stu giggles from behind you.

A strangled sound leaves your lips, a mix between a choke and a sob. You’re powerless in Stu’s hold as he moves your limbs every which way he pleases. He never lets up in his thrusts, his stamina completely insatiable, and it doesn’t feel like he’s stopping any time soon.

You have no choice but to lay helpless as Billy guides his cock into your wet hole, pushing against Stu’s. The stretch from the two of their massive lengths is painful, and you bite the outside of your hand as an attempt to soften your cries.

“Fuck,” Billy moans, slotting himself fully inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back in pleasure. Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself. 

Your eyes roll back as you start moaning audibly, his cock stuffing you full alongside Stu’s. 

“None of that.” Billy slaps a hand over your mouth and digs his fingers into your cheek. “If any one of those sleazebags outside hears those moans I’ll have to kill them and fuck you over their dead body.”

His voice is deep, gravely, and completely serious—you believe him in his entirety. You nod rapidly under his hold. You don’t want the death of anyone to be on your hands, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good. Now stay quiet.”

Billy and Stu take turns fucking themselves up into you. They give you any chance for a break, when one pulls their length almost completely out, the other shoves it in. They take turns pounding themselves into you. Your walls clench hard around them, being stretched to the brim. It takes all your power not to cry out from the pain and pleasure, but the fear from Billy’s unpredictably overpowers all other emotions. 

Billy seems to be caught up in the haze of his own arousal, fingers digging in the skin of your hips as he thrusts his cock in and out of you rhythmically. He groans. “Forgot what it’s like to fuck a tight, wet hole. Sidney still hasn’t put out yet.”

Your body instantly freezes at Billy’s words. In the midst of all the chaos that involved finding out that two of your friends were active serial killers, both of them have been wanting to fuck you, and both of them actually proceeding to fuck you, you were ashamed to admit that you completely forgot about your the rest of your friends downstairs. Sidney and Tatum, two of your closest friends, were partying just below you and were blissfully unaware that you were in fact not resting from the partying, but instead getting your hole absolutely destroyed by their boyfriends just a couple hundred feet away.

The reality of your situation comes back to you and the dread starts to sink in. Instinctively, you begin thrashing your body all around, causing as much commotion as you can. Your nails end up scratching Stu on his arm. “Ow!” he whines out, but it’s a cross between a whimper and a turned on moan. He bites your neck in retaliation. “I like ‘em feisty, you know. Really gets my dick goin’.”

Billy, on the other hand, doesn’t take your failed act of defiance so lightly. His hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks as he pulls your face close to him, not letting up with the pistoning of his hips.

“Not. A. Word.” Every syllable is spoken individually, heavily gritted out through clenched teeth. At that moment, an array of muffled voices is heard right outside the bedroom door. Billy and you turn to the source of the noise at the same time. Billy turns back to you first. “You know what happens if they walk in,” he trails off darkly, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the glint of his knife as it rests on the side table, within an arm's reach from him. If he wanted to, he could easily slip himself out of you and kill the unsuspecting partygoers within mere seconds.

He buries himself back inside of you as you say that, the two of their cocks fighting for their spots inside of your restrictive walls. Billy and Stu moan in unison at the feeling, both of you gripping onto them and the way they feel pressed up against each other.

As hopeless as your situation may seem in the end, you try to make due with what you have and not let the guilt consume you. There’s nothing you can do about it now unless you want multiple people to wind up dead. It’s fairly easy to erase your mind of anything other than the two guys currently surrounding you, whose relentless thrusts make your vision go white and limbs go numb.

Stu attaches himself onto your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys that’ll last for days. You lean your head back into him, giving him more access to the area. His long tongue licks all around the area, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth eventually makes its way up to your own and Stu covers it, kissing you with great fervor. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling it around with your own tongue. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it feels perfectly like him. It’s intimate as he massages your tongue and brings his hand up to cup your jaw. In that single moment, you can pretend like your new revelation didn’t exist and that this is just a sensual moment between you and your friend, who’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

But that’s not the case, as Billy brings you back to reality once again. He spanks your ass which has you gasping into Stu’s mouth and your eyes opening wide.

Spit dribbles out the side of your mouth as Stu finally lets up, moaning into your jaw. He gives your neck a big kiss before sucking another hickey into it. “I can be romantic sometimes,” he whispers teasingly into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Billy and Stu pound into you, even harder than before if possible, their hips snapping up against your body.

You know that your orgasm is fast approaching, the various simulations making you feel desperate for a release.

“Please, please, please, please,” your voice is hoarse as you whisper out in a breathy tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Yeah? You want our cum inside of you?” Billy coaxes you, but you can tell that he’s just as close to reaching his peak as you are given the uneven rhythm of his ruts, pushing slightly against the pattern he had set with Stu.

You nod your head as much as you can, your vision going blurry with the speed you move it. You can feel Billy’s cock throb furiously in you and it's enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him, clapping a hand over your mouth as to not alert your presence to anyone outside.

Billy’s orgasm follows your own soon after, with a strangled moan leaving his lips as his hot cum releases all inside you. The mix of your two juices allows for easier movement within your walls, and after he’s done climaxing Billy slides out of you with ease.

But Stu is nowhere near stopping.

With the result of your’s and Billy’s releases aiding him, Stu ruts himself even further into you. He manhandles you so that instead of your previous position of being twisted in the air as Stu stands behind you, he throws you down on top of the bed and climbs on top of you, humping into you from behind with a newfound vigor.

“Finally get you to myself for a bit,” Stu grits out of his teeth as his hips piston at an immeasurable speed.

You can’t speak at this point, completely cockdrunk from the brunt of the thrusts you’re taking. Stu’s broad body completely engulfs your form as he pounds you into the bedsheets. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, only low whimpers and droll being produced from it.

You can hear the squelching of your pussy, the result of Billy’s cum and your juices, as Stu pounds his cock as far as it reaches. You can feel the release escape the sides of your pussy lips with the brunt of Stu’s thrusts and you can’t help but whine softly as some of the warmth and fullness from the cum leaves your body.

Stu’s hand runs through your hair until he grabs it at the base. He pushes your head down completely into the bed, using much more pressure than what was needed. The force of it causes your ass to arch further into him as he presses his front fully against your back, curving his form as if morphing to the shape of your hunched and fucked out form.

“Now that’s a nice view,” he groans out, one hand at the root of your hair and the other pawing at your ass.

Animalistic grunts leave Stu’s mouth and you can feel as he reaches the cusp of his orgasm. Curses leave his lips as he finally cums, pushing himself inside you as deep as he can and hitting parts never reached before. You can feel the jets of his hot release inside of you as it comes out in huge, thick spurts.

When Stu finally leaves your walls, the mix of all three of your orgasms comes flowing out, making you moan at the loss of the fullness from all three of you.

“C’mon now, push it all outta you,” Billy’s voice calls out from across the room, speaking up from his previous silent observer role as he recovered from his own peak.

You obey, squeezing as much as you can with your weak body. You can feel globs of cum escape your entrance, cooling as it runs down your thighs and onto the sheets below you.

You flinch as you feel Stu’s fingers scoop some out of you, and the smacking of his lips indicates he tasted it. You moan, only able to picture what the scene looks like.

“Oh? You want some?” Stu’s fingers hastily appear in front of you. The fingers from his other hand pull your mouth open and he shoves the cum covered ones inside, making you gag instantly. He rams them in and out of your mouth, barely giving you any time to properly suck on the cum. Flecks of the fluid fly out of your mouth along with your own saliva. Tears fall without a warning, your gag reflex working overtime.

Stu’s fingers fuck your mouth until all of the cum is virtually gone from them. When he finally pulls them out, your body completely collapses. It trembles furiously from all the overstimulation, unable to hold itself up.

Stu gives you a big wet kiss on your cheek and slaps his now-limp cock onto your bare ass. You can only whimper in response, your body too heavy to move any part of it right now. Your vision is blurry, but through it you manage to make out Billy, with his sweaty complexion and rumpled clothes back on his body, talking down to you.

“You stay put until we can get everyone to piss off. We’ll be back for round two.”

[kleptokure]

Eyes On The Prize *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Traveling came natural to you, as staying in one place for an extended amount of time led you to get fidgety. You cannot be chained to one mere kingdom, and you believe must explore all of Earthbread!

As of right now, you are on your umpteenth trip. An adventure to a place most cookies advised you to avoid, which is none other than Beast-Yeast.

But who are they to tell you where to and not to go? Spirit is hard to break, and you made sure to show them that. You trusted you would do a quick exploration of the geography, then check it off your bucket list.

Now, you fall flat in knowing why you were adamant this was a good idea. Exploring was easier said than done. The map of the mysterious land is not even complete! You set yourself up for failure, and you wish to travel back to regions more cheerful.

Alas, that option is unavailable. You find yourself disoriented, now walking along a trail while also uncertain of its destination.

Up ahead of the pathway, you spot a Barrel Inn! Quickening your pace to make your way towards the safe space, you feel the slightest sense of being watched all of a sudden.

Turning around to look through the eerie branches stemming from the trees, you find no one to suspect. Fatigue must've taken its course on your dough, so you dismiss the idea. The thought of a jug filled with cream root beer occupies more space in your mind.

Opening the door to the Inn, you see quite a few of patrons. It comes as surprising, since the lone cookie you've come across is some lazy caramel cookie who has the ability to change between cookie to chameleon.

You opted to sit in the furthest corner, as you would rather avoid conversation with anyone here. You are unsure about whom you can trust in a place like this.

Despite that, once you take the first sip of your given carbonated drink, a cookie takes their seat next to you.

"Hey, you!" They immediately spoke, a boisterous tone taking place in their words. It was clear they were inebriated from the audible hiccups that followed.

"Did you know that... there are beasts here?" That serves as typical drunken talk, causing you to avoid giving responses

"It... It's true! The beasts are real, and you might find one in these parts..." The drunk cookie expressed as if they knew you regarded their speech as imaginary.

"If you feel like yur being watched, then you're already their next victim!" That statement is what causes you to feel anxious.

Before you could ask any questions, the cookie left within the moment you turned to them. You were curious, as you still recall the moment before you stepped inside the tavern.

Then you sense a tap on your shoulder, causing you to startle. Diverting your gaze, you turn to see a cookie with milky light blue hair flowing down to her dress. Not to mention her mismatched colored eyes, which were a pair to gape at.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, but could you be a dear and help me?" Her velvet voice questioned, stating her rationale for the sudden intrusion.

"What is it?" There is not much left to do on your schedule, besides getting back home, which looks to be unattainable. It wouldn't hurt to assist her.

Although, you do remember the intoxicated cookie's words. But could the dainty lady standing near have much of a possibility to be a beast?

No, that sounds like utter nonsense. Your exhaustion must be causing you to find truth in that strange cookie's words.

"I fear I've dropped my basket along the way, and a few cake hounds decided to reclaim my carrier as their own," she said with a defeated tone.

"Surely a strong cookie like you would be able to assist me?" Her voice took on an unexpected high pitch that one would consider abnormal. Would it be a risk to assume she's flirting with you right now? Beast-Yeast never fails to live up to its unusual traits..

"Um... Sure. Lead the way," you accepted, much to her favor. There were little opportunities to finish your beer, but oh well.

Wandering across the familiar pathway, you decide to start up some small talk with the cookie.

"So, what's your name?" You asked, walking beside the cookie.

"It's... Blueberry Milk Cookie!" She sounded eager to make the announcement.

"Nice to meet you, Blueberry Milk Cookie. I’m [Name] Cookie," you stated.

"Even your name is quite grand..." she mutters to herself.

"What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, there's my basket!" Averting your attention, Blueberry Milk Cookie points ahead.

Preparing to fight, you stare towards a clear area, just to the right of the path you both walk.

But there lacks the cake hounds you expected to see, leaving you with confusion.

"Oh, looks like they left. Isn't that nice?" Blueberry Milk Cookie advances over to her basket with a casual step. Her demeanor so easygoing makes you find it hard to believe there were any hostile creatures here in the first place.

"Blueberry Milk Cookie... Were there any cake hounds here to begin with?" She can hear the doubt in your tone, making her hold back laughter.

Basket in hand, the lax cookie walks far closer than she should, pushing your subconscious to make you take a few steps back.

"Of course there was. What, do you think I'm a liar...?" Feigning her offense, Blueberry Milk Cookie allows a pout to take place on her face.

Her eyes, which you once found beautiful, now seem unsettling with the way they peer at you. A part of you does not want to upset the young lady, just to avoid any further conflict.

"No, I believe you," you reassure. A pleased smile graces her face, and her expression returns to normal, as if her prior abnormality was never here nor there.

"Good. Well, I'll be going now. Thank you for your assistance, dearie. Ta-ta!" Blueberry Milk Cookie plants a kiss on your cheek, sending a sweet smile your way after. Her way of a thank you, your guess. Now there sneaks a tinge of guilt for finding her strange.

You would let your suspicions go, but the way the cookie progresses into the trees like it was rountine causes to increase your distrust. There is no way any shelter took place in the direction she went.

It matters not, since you doubt you'll find any additional encounters with her.

Time to continue with your journey of finding your way home. Hopefully all of the activities from today are shut out from your mind by then.

Shadow Milk Cookie cannot help but giggle, the rush of another successful trick flowing through his dough. You are just the cutest thing!

Really, you did most of the work for him. All he needed to do was take on another form, one of a elegant cookie anyone would be eager to please, and you followed him like a sheep to a shepard. Though his more average traits did slip out nearing the end, you slumped in pointing it out. Maybe you kinda dig it!

He happened to stumble upon your presence. It was an accident, truly. Shadow Milk Cookie has far more significant matters to tend to, yet would it be so bad to put you somewhere on his agenda? Your appearance is quite to his liking. He cannot just leave you be on your merry way.

You would slot in perfectly like a piece in his puzzle of a Spire! Not alongside his other assistants, though. Perhaps something more, a relationship that he doesn't take part in often.

That could only be if you behave to his standards. Yet Shadow Milk desires to label you an exception just from the lone interaction you both share. Such a charmer you are, huh?

At the moment, only one of his morphs have been revealed to you. Said form leans on the tamer side, yet that will diminish over time. Shadow Milk Cookie wants to see just how far he can push you! How joyous a new toy can be.

Stalking you from the shadows, he can catch the look of lostness in your eyes. Another humble traveler adrift in the twists and turns of Beast-Yeast. What a pity.

But fear not, as Shadow Milk Cookie will be your guide back home. Remember to express your gratitude!

Though it is not your idea of home, but his, which is none other than his lively Spire of Deceit. No need to worry, growing accustomed to the tower comes within a matter of time.

For the time being, Shadow Milk Cookie will be peeping from between the trees, awaiting the ideal moment to stage his next trick. The jester wishes for you not to spot out the anomalies, otherwise his entire act will be spoiled! A few cards of tomfoolery in his deck haven't been played yet. Play along, why don’t you?

Your back is pressed up against a tree, your legs laying flat on the grass beneath you. Walking any longer sounds like a nightmare, due to the fact that your legs grow sore from the little progress you've completed.

With the thoughts of dread being cut short, you feel an abrupt poke to your left. The unanticipated touch jolts you back to life, causing your eyes to dash up.

The being that poked you was not a cookie, but a... cream sheep? At least that goes as your guess. The names of creatures in Beast-Yeast might contrast to those in Crispia, but it is still a fluffy sheep at the end of the day.

Inspecting the surroundings, you find there to be no companions with the lone sheep. Perhaps a stray from its family, just as lost as you are.

With more proper posture, you raise your hand to pat the wooly animal. The sheep releases sounds of comfort, pressing its head further into your hand. The fleece is the closest material you've had to a pillow, which brings you more ease.

The curious creature licks your cheek, a sign of appreciation from your affection. This claims the spot of the most enjoyment you've received in Beast-Yeast. Though that gets interrupted when you notice a certain feature.

This sheep... They have quite the pair of eyes once you pay attention to them. You fail to gawk this time around, as you believe you've seen more than enough of the contrasting colors in their icing.

The chances of heterochromia in a cookie is rare enough, but in a sheep of all beings? This is no coincidence. Either it be cookies with clashing eye colors are quite common here and you are just uneducated, or you have the right to be apprehensive because there is in fact something, or someone after you.

You find yourself having little interest in being here any longer, having gained a new sense of hope to escape this maze of a place.

The cream sheep is confused when the soothing touch of your hand disappears. Looking up at you, the sheep is only met with your figure sprinting away. How rude, you forgot to say goodbye!

Shadow Milk Cookie is left behind, an appalled expression plastered onto his mammal face. He cannot believe his stunt failed to work! He is quite literally, ehem, DECEIT! How can one not be filled with flattery to be given a chance to fall for his tricks? Such individuality you have... Or it just be his eyes, which are stubborn to change with the rest of his appearance.

A rule breaker here and there always entices him. You best be able to live up to your rebel characteristics. Shadow Milk would be disappointed to see you flop like the rest. The entertainer needs to be entertained every once in a while.

With a whirl, Shadow Milk Cookie reverts into his infamous appearance, one he's more acquainted with. Devoting himself into a being as small as a cream sheep disgusts him. Although there was one thing he favored about the animal.

It's common for cookies to give a pat or more to an animal they come across, yet it still surprised him when you kept the same for him.

Touching the cotton on his false form so softly makes him feel things; things he has gone without for extended amounts of time. Since, y'know, being locked up in that tree, all alone, with no other cookie to satisfy the buried need of another's touch.

Perhaps informing you of his pity story will bring you to tears, making you coddle him within the second fake tears prickle the corner of his eyes.

Such an imagination he has. For now, he corrects. If you shared such tenderness towards a strange sheep who popped out of the shady vegetation, then you should show no hesitation in sparing some attention for him, too.

Nevertheless, the animal act has grown rather boring. As much as Shadow Milk Cookie would love to receive more of your soft petting, the show must go into its climax!

You will witness the form from times ago, the one which represented his very deceit. Lucky little cookie you are, aren'tcha? Shadow Milk Cookie has grown adjusted to the dough, so he decided it would be best for you to fall in love with his face as well.

With your current state, hungry and tired, you have little hope in outrunning your stalker. The very least you can do is make this all easier for him by jumping into his open arms.

No matter, as Shadow Milk Cookie is already on his way. Hope you're ready!

There does not appear to be much reason in running. If a beast has dedicated their time to hunt you down, then what might the point be in trying to escape? You have no powers deemed extraordinary, so the battle conclusion can be guessed without a second thought.

As if on queue, a booming sound of laughter is heard from behind you. The noise sends chills down your spine, yet you are brave enough to peek around. However, the miscreant is not seen from your eye.

"Other way, doughbrain!" Now beckoning from a new direction, the beast seems to be playing tricks with you. Just great.

You rotate to face the other way. Even so, you do not manage to see any cookie.

"I’m over here!" With a heavy breath, you spin around to survey the area. And again, nothing is seen. You give up in finding the trickster. Staring forward, the very eyes you attempt to run from stare back.

"BOO!" Shadow Milk Cookie said, adding on a scare for extra affect.

Watching you fall on your bottom, the jester laughs, a noise that becomes more haunting for you each second.

"I’m sorry, I'm sooooorry! You just make this all too easy," he admits with his head tilted, making sure to lean in to see your expression, fiiled with fright.

"Wow, now that's a face! You really are adorable." With honesty, that did not sound as teasing as the rest of his words did.

Now remembering it, the apparently kind lady from earlier appeared to be flirtatious for a second. With newly gained knowledge, that cookie is also the one trailing after you. If you are correct once more, and a beast has a tiny crush on you... You pray you awaken soon.

With how panicked your mind is, you're surprised you managed to glue some sort of pieces together. Now you can only have faith that your assumption is the truth.

If so, then perhaps you can use that to your advantage? With pride, you would hold romantic affection for a beast, as long as you would not crumble.

"I... I look adorable? Well then, um, you look absolutely stunning," you stuttered out, trying your best to come across as charming. You trust you led your prior frown into a smile, albeit a bit shaky.

Oh? Due to your words, Shadow Milk Cookie is actually taken aback, thinned lips replacing his grin. A cookie complimenting their very predator? He must have heard you wrong.

"Huh? Whawasthat?" Witches. Was your pick-up line that bad? Oh, may you be granted a peaceful crumbling.

Regardless, you refuse to back out of this, even though continuing with your coquettish behavior sounds like a death wish.

"You have... the loveliest eyes I have ever had the fortune of staring upon," you idolize. That has to sound convincing enough, right?

"Hmmmmm," Shadow Milk Cookie hums, debating why a warmth flushes his cheeks from your unexpected admiration. Along with that, he floats himself much closer, which causes you slight discomfort.

Maybe a bit more than slight, as you raise your hand and slapped him, a gasp slipping from your mouth due to your own actions. Your instinctive reactions do not discern when and when not to react.

This is it. This is the end. You will fall because of an accident from your subconscious. Or not?

Shadow Milk Cookie bursts out with laughter, his palm touching the mark you placed on his face. He's incredulous that a cookie was brave enough to lay a hand on him! His guard must be far too low with you, though he might just lower it. Your attack wasn't all that bad.

"Hit me again, I like it!" This cookie, "Blueberry Milk Cookie," is messed up in the head. Who in their right mind would ever admit that? But you fail to speak out your judgement. It's far better not to.

"I think that one mark adorns your dough just nicely," you attempted to persuade. While you decline his request, you keep up with flirtations. Things may spiral out of control if you give in to every ask of his.

"Ohoho, how interrresting!" Rolling his r, Shadow Milk Cookie gives you a good look over. It is as if you grow more and more appealing each time he gazes at you.

"Even I didn't expect such a twist in plot... You WILL be my next rising star!" Wait, is he serious? Did you actually manage to seduce a beast? He may not be sane, that much is well known, but are you?

"I'd be delighted to act in your performances," you replied, keeping your voice steady to avert suspicion. Your words act as the sole thread to your survival, and you can tell they all come to please him.

The several eyes in his bizarre hair roll back, another sign if you couldn't tell he was elated by the wide grin covering a large portion of his face.

Shadow Milk Cookie hovers over, and this time, you do not hit him, allowing his hands to cup the sides of your face.

"I, Shadow Milk Cookie, hereby declare you, [Name] Cookie, as mine!" That sentence zones you into reality, making you realize how intense the situation you've somehow managed to tumble yourself into is. Any way out as an option is long gone. Too bad.

In your peripheral vision, a portal appears out of thin air. That must act as your way of transportation. You hope sickness is not complimentary, but that gets cut short when you're lifted up inside of the whirls of black and blue.

You hear the smallest chuckle before you depart. Might it be a good omen, or bad?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

A/N: not too sure if im in love with this one (－－〆)

[miss-celestial-being]

jake peralta going on a blind date that boyle set up but she’s actually completely his type

literally the love of my life tysm for the request

-

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. And did I mention, no!" Jake says exasperatedly. "You see, I knew you would say that which is why I already set up the date with her." Charles rebuttals. He tells him your name as he taps rhythmically on Jake's desk. "She's thirty-two, she loves herself some Tay-Tay, and her favorite soup is crab bisque. I met her in my hot goat yoga class." "Ew, what." "Yeah, I'm hearing how that sounds now. But still, I think you'd like her. Who knows, by the end of the night you may just be smushing booties." Jake groans, "God, Boyle, don't say smushing booties." "Right, yeah, yep," He picks up the file from Jake's desk, turning to the man as he walks away, "Shaw's Bar, 8 o'clock."

Charles turns back around and bumps into Terry as he walks to his desk. He groans as he crushes his yogurt cup in his hand, "Damnnit, Boyle." "Sorry," He says as he backs toward the exit of the bullpen. He rapidly clicks the close button once inside the elevator, evading Terry's angry gaze. "Jake sighs as he looks back at his computer.

"So, hot date tonight, huh?" Amy asks as she leans around their computers to smirk smugly at him. "Uhm, no. I'm not going," He says, his eyes not leaving the screen as he types mindlessly. "What? Why not? Charles says she's perfect for you." "Exactly: Charles thinks she's perfect for me. Knowing him she's either some hot goat yoga-loving freak, or-" "Or actually perfect for you. I think you should give it a shot. I mean, you're constantly complaining about how horribly dull your love life is," Jake frowns, "Hey, now, I wouldn't say horrible dull-" "Yes you would, and you have. Now no more fighting, you have a date to get ready for." Jake looks at the time at the bottom right corner of his monitor and sighs, "All right, fine. But when this all goes to total shit, I'm blaming you." Amy rolls her eyes with a grin and opens the next file from her stack as Jake makes his way to the elevator.

-

The bell rings as Jake opens the door to Shaw's Bar, his free hand shoved in his jacket pocket. The warm, boozy bar air fills his nostrils as he steps toward the bar, the glass door closing slowly behind him. He looks around the bar, hoping to instantly recognize the mystery woman, to no avail.

The bell rings again as Jake asks Hank for an orange soda on the rocks. The bartender sighs exhaustedly as he pulls the Crush can out of the mini fridge from behind the bar. "Jake?" A voice asks as someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish as his brain short-circuits. "Or not?" You laugh awkwardly, "I'm really sorry about this, I was told someone would be here, but it looks like he stood me up." You sit one chair over at the bartop, sighing as you rest your chin on your fist.

"Hi," Jake says as he hold out his hand, "I'm Jake." "Oh," You breathe, "Sorry. You didn't say anything and I just thought- Y'know what, never mind, I'm probably not what you were expecting." Jake smiles, "Well, you're right there. Charles told me he met you in a 'hot goat yoga class'." You cringe slightly, "I honestly didn't even know his name, I walked into the wrong building and he started talking to me about his friend Jake." "Sounds about right." You both laugh and he moves to the chair between you.

"So, my weird friend tells me you like Taylor Swift," Jake starts and the conversation lasts hours, the orange soda on the countertop left completely ignored. "All right, time to wrap it up. The bar's closing." Hank says as he wipes the counter. "Oh my god, how long have we been here?" Jake asks him, surprised. The bartender ignores him as he moves on to another part of the bar. You look around to find the bar completely empty.

You laugh quietly, "This was fun," You say softly as you exit the bar, "We should do this again-" You're cut off by a sudden surprising kiss, Jake's hands holding your cheeks gently to keep you close. Your eyes flutter closed and take the collar of his shirt in your fists. He pulls away, mumbling out a quick 'noice' before getting pulled back into a kiss that leaves him gasping for breath.

-

ik this ended abruptly but its a school night and i have to go to bed so this is as good as we're getting today

i really hope you liked this bc jake has been on my mind for ages and i couldnt find many fics here sadly

dont hesitate to request more

[mooooonnnzz]

Forward Beckons Rebound

Dad!Stanford x teen!reader

⚜ 9,8k words OH MY GOD is anyone actually going to read this?

⚜ this was such a pain to complete but writing it was so fun? mixed feelings

⚜ book of bill major spoils

⚜ quick summary: ford is soooo obsessed with finding the secrets of gravity falls and learns to regret making a deal with bill because he almost loses you and he lost fiddleford?? erm...

⚜ bit of gore and blood is described here! u r warned! it's not bad tho i promise

⚜ angst!! + gender neutral reader also instead of stan and ford not seeing each other for 10 yrs, i changed it to 17 cuz it didnt make sense before 😭

⚜ DONT KILL ME PLS but i unintentionally wrote fiddleauthor BUT IT'S NOT LIKE, in your face, nothing is ever stated so take it as you will?

⚜ to anyone who fully reads it, i hoped you enjoyed!! this might flop ngl

Ford stared at his billboard that was filled to the brim with photos of all of Gravity Falls anomalies. A thin string of red was strung across the board, ultimately leading to the middle where a big question mark was laid. For days he’s been theorizing theories on where all the abnormalities came from. Was there a rip in their universe where it expelled all their strange creatures into your world? Or was this a natural occurrence that happens only in Gravity Falls. Ford couldn’t figure it out. Tapping his chin with his pen, his mind raced with thoughts. “Where did it all come from?” He uttered under his breath, eyes squinting in thought. “Where did what come from?” You slip in his lab, placing a plate of food on his table. 

“Oh!” Ford yelped out in surprise. “You scared me there, Kiddo.” He says, chuckling. 

“Sorry,” You sheepishly smile. “I brought you dinner.” Ford’s eyes graze the plate for a second, making a mental note in his head to eat the food you prepared later. Eating was a waste of time and he can’t waste any time when he’s on the brink of solving the mysteries hidden within this town  “I’ll eat it later.” He said with a dismissive tone, his attention going back to the board. 

“This again?” You roll your eyes. “Dad, can you back away from this just for a second and eat dinner with me?” You walk into his view, hands locked together as you pleaded with him. “It’ll be quick! You’ll be back to your work in no time!” You add. Your eyes search his face for any sign of him changing his mind but none came. All he did was side step you, his attention so sucked up in his own head he didn’t even notice what you were saying. He only noticed that you were standing in his way. “Dad,” You let out an exasperated sigh, hands falling down to your sides. 

“You’re not even listening to me.” You said, your eyes landing on a table. An idea sprouted in your head. You kicked the leg of the nearby table, eyes darting over to Ford, looking for a reaction, anything that’ll give him a reason to look at you but be doesn’t budge. Your heart shatters a bit, he’s been so caught up in his work that you and him haven’t properly spoken in awhile. Him being wrapped up in his work wasn’t abnormal, but to this degree, it was very rare for him to cast everything aside and hyper-focus on his findings. You mindlessly kicked the floor, eyes glued to the ground. 

“I’m gonna…” You pause for a moment, voice getting caught in your throat. You couldn’t fully focus on what you were trying to say. You were too absorbed in retaining the tears in your eyes, too ashamed to let them fall. You felt so pathetic for being so deeply wounded that your very own dad pushed you and the food you spent a lot of time making away. There are other problems in the world and you’re over here, on the brink of tears because your dad was being too dedicated to his lifelong work? It all felt so stupid in the grand scheme of things, but it didn’t alleviate the sadness that was bubbling inside of you.

“I’m gonna go,” You meekly said, rapidly wiping the tears that escaped with your arm. 

“Not now, sweetie. I’m this close to breaking this case. I can feel it!”

Silence overcasted him instead of your usual banter. Odd, he thought. Whipping his head over to where you stood, he visibly deflated. You were no longer there. 

Ford smacked his head in annoyance that was directed at himself. He was doing it again. Discarding the pen in his hand, he went to look for you. “Sweetie?” Ford calls for you, heading towards your room. Not wanting to intrude, he cautiously knocked on your door. “Can I come in, kiddo?” He had his forearm resting against the casting of the door, hand over his eyes.

After hearing some shuffling and quiet sniffs, you open the door. “Yes?” Your eyes are glassy when you look at him and his heart cracks in two. He’s the cause of this. “I came here to apologize.” He said, voice audibly full of regret. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. It was out of line and not a way I should treat you when all you wanted was to spend time with me.” You wracked your brain for a moment, debating whether you should accept his apology or mull over this heartbreak just a little longer. You fidgeted with the door, moving it side to side as you continued to think, prolonging it just to purposefully bug with Ford. 

Falling right into your trick, Ford bit his lip, anxiously chewing on the skin. “Are you going to say anything or you’re going to leave me hanging over here?” His hand dragged down the trim of the door, finger tapping on the wall, nervously waiting for your answer. You couldn’t stay mad at him. A small smile pulls to your face and you wrap him in a bone crushing hug. “You better not ignore me like that again!” Your voice muffled through his long sleeved sweater. His arms wrap around you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “I won't, I promise.”

He wasn’t lying when he promised you he wouldn’t get so enraptured by his work like that ever again. He saw how he secluded himself from you and swore up and down he was going to spend less time researching, even if it meant that he had to shove his hungry curiosity away. 

But he would be lying if he said he never laid in bed thinking about what he could be doing instead, what mysteries he could be unsolving and what discoveries he could make that would bring him closer to the question that had been gnawing on him ever since he arrived to this peculiar place.

Many nights were spent restlessly imagining what could be the final piece to his concluding mystery. And one day, he had enough of sitting around. Curiosity killed the cat, a phrase you’d tell him whenever his relentless interest in the unknown occasionally backfired on him, circled throughout his brain but he paid no mind. The yearn to find answers was too great. Slipping on his trench coat, he grabbed his bag. Stringing it over his shoulder, he told you that he was heading out. Completely unaware of his plans, you bid him goodbye from your room. 

Ford came back a little while with nothing new other than discovering an old inscription carvings in a cave. He had hoped that reading them outloud would at least summon something that would give him answers! But his actions were fruitless. Defeated and annoyed, he came back. Entering the house, he called out for you. 

“In the kitchen!” 

He removed his coat and hung it on his coat hanger, along with his bag. He walked over to the kitchen, the smell of spices and cooked meat lingered in the air. “Smells good, kiddo.” He comments, grabbing a Pitt Cola from the fridge. You turn over to him, exaggerating an angry look on your face. “I would have normally taken your compliment but I’m more curious on where you went for practically the whole day!” Ford playfully rolled his eyes at your joking tone. “I was out, sweetie. I lost track of time.” He says, popping the soda can open. Your eyes lock on the Pitt Cola can in his hand. “You don’t drink soda,” You turn off the stove, putting the dirty cooking utensils in the sink “Drinking some once and awhile doesn’t hurt.” He shrugs, ruffling your hair. “dad!” you smacked his hand away from your hair. “Go sit down!” You grumbled, to which he complied. 

While you were setting up dinner, a terrible headache overcame Ford. Clutching his head with his free hand, he threw away the Pitt Cola, thinking the soda was the cause of his headache. When you called him for dinner, his brain squirmed in pain. He walked over to the table, sitting himself down as he gripped his head. Too lost in the mind numbing pain, he fails to hear your calls.

“Dad?” 

No response.

“Dad?” You called out again, kicking him from under the table. He jolted up in surprise. 

“W-What?” He groaned out, his hand still on his forehead. “Are you okay?” You reach out to him, hand on his arm as your thumb moves side to side. Ford weakly smiles, appreciating the gesture. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry about me.” He looked at you, offering a timid thumbs up. “I’m just getting old.” He said, the pads of his fingers pressing against his temples. 

“Do you want me to get you tylenol or—?” Ford waves you off. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll tough it out.” 

For the past few minutes, you’d catch him staring off into the distance, eyes wide and mouth half open. Everytime you would have to snap him out of his trance, worried if he stayed like that any longer something bad would have happened. Abruptly getting up from the chair, he mumbles, “Heading to bed.” Leaving you alone in the dining room. Unsure on how to react, you watched him leave. No goodnight? No kiss on the forehead? You frowned and got up from your chair, grabbing your plate and his. While washing the dishes you thought of all the possible reasons on why he’s acting so weirdly. But nothing came to mind. Drying your hands on your pants, you walked over to his room.

Opening the door, you peeked your head in. You found him fast asleep on his bed. Carefully stepping inside his room, you pull his blanket over his shoulder and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well, Dad.” You whisper. 

The next morning was weird to say the least. You woke up to the smell of breakfast wafting into your room. Curious and hungry, you quickly brushed your teeth and skipped down the hall. “Dad?” You walk into the kitchen to see him cooking up breakfast, a large smile to his face. “You look happy?” You say rather confused, watching as he flipped the pancake up in the air. 

“Today is a good day, kiddo!” He said with so much energy you were convinced that your dad was kidnapped and replaced by a poorly made replica during the night. Never once in your life have you seen him so chipper to be up so early. “Is that so?” Ford finishes up the pancakes and sets them on plates. He hands you a plate and puts his down on the table. 

He grabbed butter and syrup from the cabidents, popping the syrup bottle open and drenching his pancake with the sweet syrup. “Want?” He asks you. “No thank you.” 

He sits down on his chair and picks up his fork. You watched him closely as he cut a piece of the pancake with the side of his fork, the smile never washing away from his face. “Did you have a good dream or…?” He laughed, stabbing the piece of the cut pancake with his fork. “Guess you could say that.” He looked at you, a flash of yellow ignited in one of his eyes. You blink and his eye is back to normal. You shake your head, brushing it off as your mind tricking you. “Okay?” You looked down to your plate, the fluffy pancake suddenly looking unappetizing. The whiplash of his sudden change in attitude really struck you hard. You pushed the plate away from you, taking in a breath through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna eat later, okay?” You got up and headed to your room before Ford could respond. 

“That was weird, wasn’t it, Sixer?!” A voice boomed in his head. Ford jumped, dropping his fork. “Can you give me a heads up when you do that?” He grumbled under his breath, recollecting himself. “Oops! Sorry,” Bill laughed loudly in his head. “Heads up!” He warns.

“There’s no point if you say it after.” Ford mumbles, grabbing his fork to continue eating his breakfast. “You humans and their foods,” Ford could imagine Bill rolling his eye. “Hurry up or else I’m going to rip my eye out of boredom!” 

Months ticked by and Ford was still strung up on building a portal. When you’d ask him about it, he would vaguely respond by saying; “This will break the boundaries between our worlds!” And continued to mumble incoherently to himself, pacing around the room as he stewed in his thoughts. He also began to collect weird art of this godly being. His lab was shrouded with tapestries, paintings and statues of a yellow triangle. Questioning about the art led you nowhere. Ford would act like it wasn’t such a big deal and make it seem like you’re the crazy one for finding an issue with his sudden obsession with this triangle. You just pinned it as him obsessively worshiping whatever this god is. As long as it doesn’t get too out of hand. 

Even if he was knee deep in his work, he still managed to find some time to spend time with you. Outings were pretty common and you made it known that you appreciate him stepping out of his little man dungeon just to spend some time with you. 

Everything was going good for Ford and you. He was slowly reaching his answer he’s been desperately looking for this whole time and you were happy to see him in such high spirits all the time. Not that he never was! He just seems more confident in himself, like he knows his self-worth. You wondered what exactly happened to him to make him so assured of himself. 

Although, there would be times where his usual outgoing spirit was washed out for weeks at a time, even months. You were always there to cheer him up, to ground him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay during those times. You never thought much of it, just chalking it up as him going through mental exhaustion. It made the most sense to you. After all, he practically spends most of his day going out to that UFO crash landing site to collect scraps for the portal. There’s days where he’s all beaten and bruised and you’re left to take care of his wounds. You pestered him like a mother would to their child. 

Ford sat down on the couch with a loud sigh, unbeknownst to him, you were in the kitchen browsing the cabinets for any snacks when Ford started mumbling to himself. “My muse,” He says. “Gone without a word once again.” He groans. You could hear him take off his glasses and place them somewhere. “Muse?” You whispered under your breath. You waited for him to say anything else that you can latch on to, but unfortunately for you, the TV sparked to life. Latest news reports filled the room and you were left stumped with new information.Was this supposed muse the reason why he gets all sad and anxious? Is this Muse a partner he hasn’t introduced you to yet? Your head is thick of conspiracies and feasible reasons but it was cut short when Ford interrupted your thoughts by walking in. 

“Sweetie?” He’s surprised to see you in the kitchen, hunched over in thought. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Uh,” You look at the open cabinet, flipping your eyes between the cabinet and your dad. “Not long! I was…looking for snacks!” You grabbed a bag of chips. “Oookaayy?” He walks to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” 

Like a flash of lightning, your face is sprayed with Ford’s mouth water. “I’ll take that as a no,” You said, voice raspy. You waddle out of the kitchen, dripping water onto the floor. “I’m sorry, kiddo!” 

At some point, he needed a few extra hands to help assemble the machine. Ford chose you and an old friend of his, Fiddleford, to be his helpers. Meeting Fiddleford was a delight. He’s a kind hearted soul who had the brains of a genius. When there were slow days in building the portal, he’d play a song on the banjo to lighten up the mood. You all grew close as time went on and you felt like you had your own little family. You cherished every laugh, smile and conversation that passed between you and the others. 

“What songs can you play?” You ask Fiddleford who was strumming the strings of his banjo without any thought. Catching his attention, he takes in your question. He considered his answer for a minute or so. “I don’t think it’s a song you’d know.” He says, beginning to play the opening tune on his instrument. “I know Ford will know this one though!” He smirks, head craning over to Ford who was drawing the outline for the portal. As Fiddleford smoothed into the middle of the song, Ford was turned over on his chair, head swaying to the beat. Once the song came to a close, the lab erupted in rounds of applause. “Thank you, thank you all!” 

“I remember that song all too well.” Ford grins. You furrowed your brows. “I’m curious. Why do you two know the song?” Your finger switching between Ford and Fiddleford. “There’s nothin’ really special behind it,” Fiddleford lightly shrugs. “I just played this song whenever Ford had trouble concentrating on his work.” 

“And it worked?” Ford nodded his head. “Worked seamlessly.” 

You weren’t surprised when Fiddleford would start playing the song whenever Ford was stressed out. 

June 15th rolled by, Ford’s birthday! You and Fiddleford secretly planned a surprise party for him, something small between the three of you to remind him how much you and Fiddleford love him. You knew he never was a fan of his birthday. Celebrating one without his twin grew harder each year, but you seemed to lessen the ache in his heart and with Fiddleford a part of the little family now, his birthday surely won't be as bittersweet! 

Walking over to his lab, you felt your shoe press against something squishy. Looking down to the floor, you saw a pile of dead rats that spelled out his name. The one you stepped on was flattened, mouth hung open as its bloodied guts pool out of it. You let out a scream, stumbling backwards in disgust and horror. 

The door to Ford’s lab flew open, a concerned Ford stood behind it. “Kiddo, are you alriighht…?” His words trailed off into the air, his attention now shifted to the pile of dead rats on the ground. “What the…?” His eyes flicker between you and the rats. He looks equally horrified and disgusted. “I’m gonna get something to clean—“ A gag interrupts you. “To clean that up!” You said in a hurried flash, hands cupping your mouth as you scurried away from the scene. 

When you came back with a mask covering your nose and mouth, disinfectant spray, a broom and a trash bag; You saw Ford sweetly smiling at the pack of dead rats. “Uh, dad?” Why was he looking at the rats like that? His head flew up, eyes locking with yours. “Oh, kiddo! Th-Thanks! I’ll clean this up, don’t you worry.” He says, grabbing the cleaning product and broom. 

“Uh, okay? Me and Fiddleford are upstairs. We made you something.” You tell him, fidgeting with your fingers. A quick “mhm,” leaves him and you’re left to walk back to the kitchen, a little weirded out by his smile. “Did you clean it up?” Fiddleford asked, adding the finishing touches to the cake. “dad’s cleaning it up. He was acting weird though,” You look at the cake. Gorgeously decorated with white frosting all by Fiddleford’s amazing handiwork. “Weird in what way?” He curiously asked. “Like, there was a pile of dead rats that formed his name and he was disgusted at first, but when I came back with cleaning supplies he looked…” You stop, searching for the word in your head. “Touched?” Your voice high pitched with uncertainty “He looked at the rats as if they were a gift almost.” 

“Now ain’t that something.” He looks at you with a shake of his head. “Listen, I love your dad but he’s been actin’ weird.” He pushes his glasses up, setting the piping bag aside. “I sometimes catch him talking to himself. I knew to a certain degree he talked to himself, but I don’t remember it being that bad.” 

“I notice that too, do you think it’s that–” 

“What is all of this?” Ford asked, amusement trailing his voice. The conversation between you and Fiddleford evaporated in thin air and was replaced with you and him both yelling out, “Happy Birthday!”

His birthday went smoothly and perfect in your eyes, if you ignore the hiccup from earlier. Your dad was laughing heartily at what Fiddleford told him, drinks in both of their hands. Plates of eaten cake were left on the table, confetti was strewn about and you were more than satisfied with you and Fiddleford’s work. You watched as the pair happily conversed with each other, sharing old memories of college together. As the mini party came to a close, Ford turned to you as he hugged Fiddleford goodbye. “Thank you for this, truly. I needed this.” Hugging him, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Anytime, dad.” You smiled.

Soon enough, Christmas was right around the corner. The small little town of Gravity Falls was celebrating the festive cheer by blasting music from every corner and littering their house with decorations. Something you also partook in. Standing on top of the very tall ladder, you decorated the roof with Christmas tree shaped lights. 

“Kiddo!” 

Looking down, you saw Ford waving at you. “Hi, Dad!” You wave back, slowly ascending down the ladder. Once you reached the bottom, Ford had shoved a snowglobe and a 6-fingered mitten your way. “Look at what Fiddleford made me.” Ford beamed, a small hue of pink flushing his cheeks. You picked up the snowglobe and shook it. You watched in awe as the glittery snow cascaded down to the bottom. “He’s so good at making things.” You say, handing back the adorable snow globe. “And a six fingered mitten?” You slipped the glove on. It covered your whole hand and almost up to your forearm due to how big it was.

“Give me that.” Ford chuckled, removing the mitten off your hand with a swipe. “That’s so sweet.” You say, seeing Ford bleed out utter joy. “And look what he got you!” Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a picture frame. Within the frame was a photo of you, Ford and Fiddleford at Gravity Falls local park. All three of you were stupidly posing in the photo, faces pulled in different ways to make the weirdest face ever. The frame was decorated with a mini wreath and tinsel. On the back, he wrote “To my family,” with a tiny heart scribbled as a period. “He thinks of us as his family!” You held the picture frame close to your chest. “dad! I’m going to cry. This is so sweet.” 

“He’s one of a kind.” He says, staring at his gifts longingly. “Where is he? I need to go thank him.” Your eyes search around the premise. “I’m afraid you’re too late, kiddo.”

“What?” You quickly turned around. “Is he dead?!” You practically yelled out. “What? No, no.” He shook his head. “He’s out of town. Spending time with his wife.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Why did you say it like that!” You shoved his shoulder with your hand. He let out a snort. “Sorry, sorry!” He raised his hands up defensively. “Whatever,” You said jokingly. “Are you done decorating the house?” He wonders, peering his head up to see the lights flashing on the roof. “Not quite. I still need to decorate the front porch and such. Wanna help?” Ford didn’t hesitate to agree. He grabbed your gift and placed it inside where it was safe and started helping you decorate.

Wordlessly, you disappeared into the house for a moment. Ford was puzzled but it all made sense when he heard loud Christmas music grow near. The door burst open and there you were, radio in hand with a multitude of DVD’s in the other. “I had to play some music.” 

“Just don’t play the songs Fiddleford plays!” 

“Those are the exact songs I’m playing.” A groan was heard from Ford and you had to stifle a laugh. That day was spent entirely accessorizing the whole house. The next few days progressed nicely. The christmas spirit was thick in the atmosphere and nothing could shatter it. And as if it was a Christmas miracle, Ford had told you that Fiddleford came back earlier than intended due to relationship problems back home. He also slid in that he had just met The Krampus before crashing down on the couch. The next hour was you trying to shake your dad up from his slumber to get the full story. How could he drop the mention that he met Krampus and knock out like that?  

Later that day, Ford was magically possessed by the spirit of Christmas and chose to decorate the portal with lights and a ‘Happy Holidays’ banner. “What’s all this?” You point towards the portal that was covered in flashing lights. “I just wanted to make the place look festive.” There was another reason why he did this and you read him all too well.

“I bet it’s for Fiddleford.” You tease. He scoffed, waving you off. “I may or may not have called him over.” You squeal, hugging Ford with all your might. “Is this how having a full family feels like?” 

“What! Did you not like when Christmas was just us two?” He took your comment very personally, even though a smidgen of him thought the same thing. “No. I loved it, but it’s nice to share the festivities with someone else.” 

After a bit of waiting around, a knock resounded through the house. Ford perks up from his chair. “That’s him!” He exclaims. Quickly turning to you, he throws the remote to the lights to you. “When we walk in, turn on the light and throw the christmas confetti.” He instructs you. 

“You can count on me!” You said, puffing out your chest. Hiding behind the wall, you heard Ford’s footsteps lull to whisper. Quiet chatter was heard and soon, the footsteps drew near. Your finger hovered the On button. You overheard a tiny little yelp and the sound of something unraveling. Looking towards the portal, you saw a little gnome hanging upside down by his foot. 

“Oh, c’mon!” You smack your head. You didn’t have time to unwrap the lights off his ankle. Mouthing a “hold on!” to the gnome, you watched as Ford and Fiddleford’s shadow crept into view. You smashed your fingers on the On button, the lights flickering to life. 

A gasp left Fiddleford. “First you decorate the house and now the portal? Gee, Ford! And to think I thought you were a mini grinch.” He jested, delivering a slight punch to Ford’s arm. “I’m glad you like it, Fiddleford.” He said softly. He then coughed to his hand, his eyes moving to the general direction where you were at. “Imagine if we had CONFETTI thrown at us. That would be AWESOME.”

Your eyes widen. You forgot the confetti! Jumping right in front of them, you threw the ball of confetti in their face. Your vision was full of confetti fluttering down. When it cleared out, you saw Ford’s unimpressed face and Fiddleford’s large smile. He cracked into full blown laughter, hunched over as Ford coughed out confetti from his mouth. “Really?”

“Oops?” You awkwardly laugh. 

“Is that a gnome?” Ford points over to the gnome who waved at him enthusiastically. “Ignore him…” You said quietly.

Half of the cold night was spent warmly tucked in the lab, all huddled up behind blankets and hot cocoa in hands. Sooner or later, they swapped out their hot cocoa with nog. They both told you stories from their past together, stemming from embarrassing stories to really heartfelt ones. Each story either had you hooked on every word that left their mouth or a messy ball of tears. 

“You know,” Ford begins, leaning back, looking at Fiddleford and you adoringly. “Maybe we should stop building the portal.” 

Shock strikes you and Fiddleford. “What happened to making scientific history?” He asks. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to make history but…” His eyes trail to the portal.  “I just want to spend time with my favorite people in the world outside of this lab.” His fingers tapped the floor mindlessly. “I have people around me who love me. Why waste that, you know?” 

“Am I goin’ crazy?” Fiddleford whispers to you. “I think it’s the nog talking.” You whisper back.

“I can hear you guys talking!” 

Facing Ford, Fiddleford had a light blush on his cheeks. “You tell me I’m the sappy one but I think I’m rubbin’ off on ya,” He nudges him. “Don’t make me take back what I said.” He threatens with no actual meaning behind it. 

“Why don’t we go outside to build snowmen? That way I can see you wear that six-fingered glove I tirelessly worked on.” Fiddleford suggested. Liking the idea, Ford got up to his feet. He lent out a hand to Fiddleford who graciously took his hand. “Last one to go outside is a rotten eggnog!”

You and the boys rush to their respective rooms, hastily changing out of their thin long sleeves to their thick jackets and pants. Throwing the door to your room open, you stumbled out of the house and onto the snow where you tripped. Laughter sounded around you. Lifting your head up from the fluffy snow, you saw Ford and Fiddleford already out, all bundled up to protect themselves from the cold. “No way!” You gasped, scrambling to your feet. “Yes way!” Ford said. 

The other half of the night was spent building snowmen, making snow angels and snowball fights. You tapped out after a while, hugging the both of them closely. “Best day ever!” You said, throwing some snow in the air. “I’m glad you had fun, kiddo.” His hand patted your back, giving you a kiss on your temple. Fiddleford ruffled your hair endearingly.

“Night, guys. Don’t go too crazy on the nog!” They did exactly what you told them not to do.

A month passed and you believed everything was going alright, you thought everyone was getting along but something happened to Ford a few weeks ago. He’s been more paranoid now, snapping at you or Fiddleford and erratically going off on tangents of how he needs to finish the portal. The talk of discarding the portal many nights ago was lost to the wind. Now it rested as some silly little pipe dream. 

Fiddleford was noticeably putting less and less effort in the project. You’d often find him daydreaming on his desk, mind far away from the lab. Your work was beginning to become sloppy, head full of thoughts and worries. You stressed over the thought of how everything was just fine a few weeks ago. Now it was slowly falling apart.

You were taking a break outside of the lab when Fiddleford stormed out. His face pinched with a mix of anger and sadness. “Fiddleford?” You rushed to your feet, running over to him. “Fiddleford, what happened?” You stood in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. His lip trembled, looking off to the side. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Go ask your dad since he’s so keen on yellin’ at me.” 

Your heart drops to your stomach. Your dad did what? “D-Do you wanna stay here? I-I can talk to him and you guys can make up or something!” Your words stumbled over each other. You can see your whole world crumbling down right in front of you and it was all because of your dad. “It’s alright, pumpkin. I’ma head home now.” A somber yet reassuring smile pulled to his lips.

“I’m going to talk to him, I promise.” You tell him with a firm nod to your head. “Thank you.” His voice was weak, something you’ve never heard from him before. You brought him into a hug, squeezing him before letting him go. He wished you a good afternoon and left, leaving you alone to deal with your dad.

You sucked in a deep breath and trudged towards the lab. Walking in, you saw Ford pacing around anxiously, a scramble of words tumbling out of his mouth at rapid speed. “Dad?” His head snaps to you, a light yellow glow in his eye. The same one you saw almost one year ago. He blinked and suddenly it was gone. “What do you want, kiddo?” His tone was harsh and clipped.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” You cower a bit. His anxious energy and rude tone shook you to your core. He’s never talked to you with such anger before. “Are you here because of what happened between Fiddleford and me?” He inquired, taking a step towards you. Seeing his face better, you could see that it was pulled into an irritated scowl. “What happened, dad?” 

“He was going through my stuff! Without my permission!” He said, his hands cupped towards him, directing them at himself. “And to think I trusted him!” 

“He probably got the cabinets mixed up or something.” You shrug, not getting the whole show he’s throwing. Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself. “You don’t understand.” 

“Understand what?” Your lips quivered. You felt so little compared to him. He towered over you with such burning anger you couldn’t process that he was your dad. “You don’t understand what’s going inside my head!” He jabs his finger to his temple repeatedly. “You can’t trust anyone, especially him!” 

“This is Fiddleford we’re talking about, Dad! He wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” You said. You couldn’t grasp the words that were coming out of his mouth. Since when did he start doubting Fiddleford’s loyalty? What planted this ridiculous idea into his head? Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“So explain to me why he was rummaging through my belongings!”

“I’m not Fiddleford, I can’t answer that question!” 

Ford scoffed, he opened his mouth to say something when it faltered close. He was quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts when he took a step back. His expression screamed betrayal. “Unless you’re siding with him to work against me.” He murmured, eyes narrowed at you.

Your stomach twisted into knots. “Seriously?” Your voice wavered. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to suppress your cries. When you opened your eyes, you were locked on a tapestry of that yellow triangle. That’s when it all clicked. Swallowing your sorrows, you pointed to the tapestry. 

“That triangle,” You start. “Ever since you started hanging up those stupid paintings or whatever, you’ve been acting strange in all kinds of ways.” You walk over to it, fingertips brushing the material. Ford eyes you warily. “Is this your Muse I hear you talk to yourself about?” Your fingers wrap around the tapestry. 

“Don’t.” His finger pointed at you. You felt like you were a kid again, being disciplined by him for acting irresponsible, for breaking something you shouldn’t have. It made the reality of the situation a lot more serious. This wasn’t something that Ford could shrug off due to your poor impulse control. This is something you chose to do. “Please don’t.” He begged, his eyes glossing over with tears. 

You yanked it, ripping it in half. Ford reached out to grab the ripped tapestry but you were too quick. You moved to the side and observed the art designed on it. A flying yellow triangle was depicted as the saving grace of our world. In the background there were people on their knees, while some stood behind them. What stood out to you the most was their eyes yellow, their pupils replaced with a black straight line. You’ve seen those yellow eyes before. You turn your head over to Ford, your heart crushing against your chest. You could barely recognize the man in front of you. He had deep dark eye bags under his eyes, the whites of his eyes had dark crimson veins that irritated his eyes. His hair was disheveled and his chin had little stubbles of hair growing out. 

“What is this?” The back of your hand smacks against the tapestry. “Who is this? Why am I just making sense of all of this now?” You shoot questions at him like rapid bullets. “Why haven’t you told me anything about this?” 

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. “I don’t know if I should tell you.” He says, voice low. “I don’t want you to jeopardize our main goal.”

“What main goal, Dad?” You shot back. “The one you said you didn’t want to do anymore because you didn’t want to lose track of what’s in front of you?” Your hands clenched the tapestry. “I changed my mind.” Ford rubs his forehead, looking away from your eyes, clearly ashamed of himself. “Clearly!” You stared at him for a moment. “Why?” He looks over to you, his face riddled with exhaustion. You soften your tone and repeat it. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He responds. “Did the triangle guy give you shit for it?” You watch as he winces. Right on the dot. So this entity, this being, it speaks to him. “Does he talk to you?” He nods slowly, as if he’s unsure that the information he’s sharing is allowed to be told. “Dad…” You drop the tapestry. “What have you gotten yourself into?” 

A prolonged silence entraps you and him. You stare at him and he stares at you and he looks so terribly conflicted with himself. He looks at you like he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong. He pushes his glasses up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I need you to get out of my lab.” 

“What?” Your whole body tingles with cold chills. You can’t tell if he's joking or not. He has to be joking, right? There’s no way he’s demanding you to leave, right? “Dad I—“

“—I said that you need to leave. Why haven’t you done that already?” His voice is dangerously low. His irritation seeps deeply into his words and punches you right in the heart. You open your mouth, ready to protest, ready to fight with whatever energy you had left in you but closed it. 

You backed out. 

Kicking the tapestry over to him, you forcefully knock your shoulders with him as you leave. Hot tears escaped your eyes as you ran to your room, shutting the door of your room.

Ford sighs out, despair riddling his body. “And you’re sure that [Name] and Fiddleford devised a plan to turn off the portal?” He asked Bill who floated in front of him. Bill flicked his hand down. “Don’t you worry, pal! You did the right thing.” A distant look was evident on Ford’s face. 

“You do a good job at listening to me, you know that, Fordsy?” Ford could only grumble in response. 

Bill spun around to face the portal  “When do you think this portal can turn on?” 

“Tomorrow.” Ford firmly says. “Do you think you can rally those two knuckleheads tomorrow? You need a test dummy afterall!” 

“I might be able to.”

The morning blooms to life and you’re left rotting on the bed, not wanting to move from the only place that provided you constant comfort. Hours pass by when you hear Fiddleford’s voice. You sprung up from the bed. What is he doing here? Making a beeline to the bathroom, you quickly brush your teeth and hurry on down to the living room. They’re nowhere to be seen. 

You rush to the lab and open the door. The ground shifts as the portal powers to life. You watch as they approach the roaring portal, test dummy in hand. What happens next all happens too fast. Fiddleford’s wrist got tied to rope that was on the test dummy and got pulled along with it, his head getting sucked in. You run over to your dad, hands latching on to the rope that was conveniently on his ankle. Together, you and Ford pull him back in. You fall back to the floor. Fiddleford violently trembles as he speaks some garbled nonsense. 

“Fiddleford?” 

He sits up, staring blankly ahead of him. “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with one eye!”

“Fiddleford, get a hold of yourself. You’re not making any sense!” Ford reached out to Fiddleford but he flinched away before he could. “This machine is dangerous,” He states, hugging his arm. “You’ll bring about the ends of the world with this!” He grabs onto Ford’s shoulder. “Destroy it before it destroys us all!”

“I can’t, Fiddleford. This is my life's work!” 

Fiddleford looks down to the floor. “I fear we unleashed a grave danger on the world.” He looks petrified. Whatever he saw on the other hand has mentally taken a toll on him within a matter of seconds. He looks up to Ford, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m not gonna ask again.” His body tremors in fear. “You need to destroy the machine, Ford. Please, I beg of you.”

“Fiddleford. I can’t just throw this all away.” Ford says. 

Fiddleford studies his face, hoping that a part of Ford was lying. But when Ford’s stern face unwavering, Fiddleford broke. “Then I quit.” He stands up from the floor, his eyes gazing at you one last time before he marches out of the lab, leaving you and Ford stunned. 

“Fear the beast with one eye,” You echoed, your mind instantly flashing to the image of the yellow triangle Ford has everywhere. Ford had seemed to make the same revelation. He shuffles to his feet, still shaken up by what had just happened, he stumbles a bit as he goes back inside the lab, pulling out his journal 3 notebook. “Shut off the portal!” He commands. 

You don’t waste a second getting up and switching off every knob, lever and button. Sneaking careful glances to Ford, you can see him writing, his pressure on the pencil is so hard that the words he writes come out thick and black. You just stand there and watch him visibly break down, his mental health deteriorating as the minutes go on. 

“I need to destroy the portal and burn the journals,” He finally speaks up after a long minute. “And we’re leaving Gravity Falls once I deal with everything.” He slammed the book shut and tucked it inside his coat. “We’re what? Leaving Gravity Falls?” You follow him closely as he leaves the lab, eyes clouded over with fear. “It’s not safe here, [Name].” 

The whole day is such a messy blur. Too overwhelmed with your emotions you couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. You were still hung up on the fact Fiddleford left. The look in his eyes will be forever ingrained in your memory. Everything around you is falling apart and you can’t seem to pick up the pieces and fix it. Sleep was unachievable. Closing your eyes would replay the memories of what happened hours prior. 

Footsteps approached your room, but they weren’t the ones you were familiar with. These were messy and uncoordinated. Bangs of someone slamming against the wall shook your room and before you could have any time to react, your door whips open, revealing Ford. You breathe out in relief. It was just your dad.

Ford’s head pulls up as if it’s being controlled by a string and stares you down with a wide smile. His comforting brown eyes weren’t there anymore. Instead, they glowed a disgusting yellow. His pupils were a black slit and you felt your blood run cold and the world around you stopping. You felt like a fool to think you were safe. 

“Nice to finally meet you!” Another person’s voice spoke using your dad’s mouth. “Names Bill, Bill Cipher!” He hung out his hand for you to shake. Your body felt like cement was encased in your veins, preventing you from moving. His eyes switched from his hand to yours a few times before pulling his hands back. “I see you don’t do handshakes. I get it! You’re probably thinking where’s my dad right now? What is inside of him? What is going ooonnn?!” He lets out a laugh. “Right? You’re thinking that?” 

Your voice dies in your throat, your words failing you. “Hmm, maybe I chose the wrong day to come out…Should I have done it tomorrow?” He thinks out loud, tapping his finger on his chin, exactly the way your dad did. “Well, too late to think about what could’ve happened!” He jolts towards you, his hand grabbing your wrist. You break out of your trance “Let go of me!” You screech. Your fist clenched, ready to blow a punch to Bill’s arm when it hit you, this is your dad’s body. Any injury you inflict on Bill is also harming your dad. “What? Are you too scared to hit me because I’m in Ford’s body?” A cackle leaves Bill. “This will make this so much easier then!”

“Make what easier?” Not knowing what Bill was scheming made everything feel so much scarier. “I’m breaking into Sixer’s lab! But I just need your help.” A warm sensation drips onto your hand and slides down to your arm. You feel bile climb up your throat when you see that it was blood seeping out of the various open wounds Bill had given to Ford on his knuckles. “W-what did you do?!” The wounds weren’t deep, but the skin was ripped open and Bill dragging you down to the lab only peeled the skin open even more. “Just tried bashing the door down. Is it obvious that it didn't work?” 

You reached the lab’s door. Blood was smudged on the door, some dripping down to the floor. The strong scent of metal hung in the air and you could feel your stomach churning. “Unfortunately for me, Sixer can be a real genius at times. He implemented this stupid security system so I couldn’t get in!” Bill’s other hand grips your hair. “It won’t work with my eye, but it’ll work with youuurss!” His hand in your hair pushes your head towards the eye scanner. You yelp out in pain. “Oh, stop complaining!” His finger pressed a button and the scanner began inspecting your eye, before it could do a proper scan you screwed your eyes shut. “Oh no you don’t.” Bill pries your eye open and starts the scanner all over again. You tried struggling against it, but his boot stomped down on your ankle, twisting it sideways. “I just wanted to do that!” You screamed in agony, tears pouring out of your eyes. 

A loud beep sounded and you thought you were granted access when Bill cursed under his breath. He throws you against the wall, you head knocking against it. “So useless!” He delivers a punch to the door. “I will get access to that portal.” He shoots over to you, a large toothy smile that spreads ear to ear unnaturally took over Ford’s face. “Or maybe I can think of other ways to convince him to–” His eyes roll to the back of his head and he falls back. “Dad!” You crawl over to him, hands on his cheeks as you watch his eyes flutter open. No longer were they yellow. 

“Oh, thank god!” You wrap him in a hug, tears falling down your face. “D-Did I fall asleep?” Ford slurred out. As Ford’s surroundings came back to him, his face scrunches up when he’s assaulted with the stench of blood. “[Name], what happened?” 

“Bill tried breaking into the lab to use the portal.” You say, giving him a squeeze before giving him space. “Did he get in?” He groans as he sits up, body terribly sore. “No, he didn’t.” His eyesight focuses on you, eyes blowing wide when he sees blood staining your hand and arm. “Did he hurt you?” He grabs onto your hand, looking for any damage. “He didn’t make me bleed. Just gave me a tiny concussion and a twisted ankle probably.” 

Ford stays silent for a moment, his head replaying your words. Anger boiled in his chest as he thought of the ways he hurt you while he was possessing his body. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m fine!” You assure. “I’m more worried about your knuckles.” You say, looking at the splintering skin. “My knuckles?” He casts his gaze over his knuckles and winces at the sight. “He does not know when to give up.” 

The rest of the night was you patching Ford up and him patching you up. Conversation floated between you and him as if the previous days were nothing but a nightmare. That’s when he unloaded everything about Bill onto you, from the moment they made the deal to when the portal was revealed to be nothing but a way for Bill to take over Earth. You could see the remorse on his face as he talked, speaking on how he felt so stupid for falling into his tricks, believing the lies he told and how he almost caused a rift between the two of you. You already figured out most of what he told you prior to the conversation, but having it proven to be true and not baseless guesses was astounding. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting for the past year.” He says, holding you tightly to his chest. “It’s okay, Dad. You were under his influence and believed him more than you believed yourself.” You tell him. 

From then on out, you and Ford searched for anything that’ll help defeat Bill. Ford stumbled across a book with armor that was supposed to keep Bill out of the mind. The machinery was horribly outdated but by growing on their ideas, you and Ford had a solid outline of a modern alternative. Assembling it was another story. 

“Does this go here or here?” 

“No..I think it goes here?” 

The idea was scrapped and Ford was back to square one. Without Fiddleford’s brilliance in machinery, the protective armor was pretty much unachievable. And right before you knew it, the inevitable came. Ford fell asleep. You walked into his room with what you originally thought was him hunched over his desk, sticky notes stuck to every part of the wall and desk. Bill heard you walk in and shot up from his chair. “Oh, am I glad to see you!” Bill approached you with open arms.

“What are you doing, Bill?” You tried your best to sound menacing but your voice betrayed you. “I’m just trying to convince your dad to talk to me again. Do you think that’s possible?” He grabs your arm and pulls you to the desk. “Or maybe shedding your blood on the post-it notes would fasten the process?” His hands dig in the cabinet, pulling up a box cutter. You watch in horror as the blade pops out. “My blood won’t solve anything!” You said, trying to yank your arm away from his grip but it was too tight. “Then should I spill your blood and his?” He has the blade to your arm and you do your very best to stay still. Any movement and you'll surely rip some skin open. You sit in a pool of your own anxiety, waiting for Bill to slash your arm open but he never does. He drops the box cutter and shoves you. “Doing that will only make him hate me even more!” He yells, bashing his head on the wall repeatedly. 

“Hey!” You pull him back by the shoulder. “Are you trying to give yourself a headache!” Bill ignores you and sits back down on the chair, obsessively writing post-it notes where he begs for Ford’s forgiveness. And for a while, that’s how they communicated. Through notes. At some point, the whole room was covered in writings of both Bill and Ford. When that didn’t work, he tapped a snake to Ford’s journal. It was back and forth of childish antics between the two of them.

The more this progressed the more sleep deprived Ford became, the more paranoid he grew. “There’s no other options left.” He said, running his hands down his head. “I was stupid to believe I could defeat Bill and I thought Fiddleford would’ve had something, but he didn’t. Just a ripped up picture of us from college.” In his hands were the two pieces of the photo. You reached a dead end and you’re not sure if you can escape this one. “Has Fiddleford answered your calls?” He asks, thumb caressing the photo of Fiddleford. 

“He answered.” You crack your fingers. “He, uh…Doesn’t remember us.” 

“What do you mean he doesn’t remember us?” 

“I don’t know, he just asked who I was and why I kept calling. And when I told him about you and me he said I got the wrong person and hung up.” Heartbreak, after heartbreak. Nothing good seemed to come out of this situation and you were growing tired of all of it. You haven’t even gone outside to catch a breath of fresh air. You were too afraid Bill was lurking, waiting for you to be alone so he could find a twisted way to convince Ford to be on his side again.

Ford clenched the hand where the photo of himself was. Tears dripped from his eyes and down to the floor. “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, kiddo.” He says. “You didn’t know that this was going to be the outcome, Dad. It’s okay.” You pull him for a hug. “I was so obsessed with finding answers that I–” Ford stopped himself with a garbled sob. “You didn’t know, Dad.” This was all too real, all too scary. You didn’t even want to think about how it would end. 

The months passed through your fingers and before you could sit back and relax, winter was here. Your favorite season. You were unsure on how to feel. The last winter was filled with memories to remember but thinking back on them only brought a chill to your heart. One day, a knock was heard from outside. “Dad!” You run over to get him, your heart bashing against your ribcage. “There’s someone at the door.” A year prior to this, you would’ve been more than happy to open the door, but considering what has happened the last few months, anything that dealt with leaving home was mind numbingly terrifying. “It’s okay. If anything happens, hide in the lab.” 

Arming himself with a crossbow, he opened the door. Aiming the crossbow at the person in front of him. “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.” A gruff voice spoke. “Stanley,” Ford drops the crossbow. “Did anyone follow you, anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Ford grabs him by the collar and pulls him in, shutting the door behind him. “[Name], flashlight please! And hurry!” Ford holds out his hand and you place the flashlight you found discarded on the floor in his hand. “W-What? Who?” Ford flashes the lights in his eyes. “Ah! Hey,” The man in the beanie pushes Ford’s hands down. “What is this?” Then his eyes trail over to you. “And who is this?” The gears turn in his head and his eyebrows furrow in shock. “You have a kid!” 

“That’s not the point.” Ford urged him to come in. He followed, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi, Uncle.” You nervously waved at him. “Does he talk about me?” Stan asks but he was pulled away from you before you could answer. Ford began spilling to him how he couldn’t trust no one, no one except him. Collecting all the books in his hands he went to the portal, you and Stan behind. 

Showing him the portal, he explained how he’s the only person he could trust with the last notebook. He tells Stan to sail far away to keep the book from getting into the wrong hands. ”That’s it?” Stan clenches the book in his hand, a scowl on his face. “I finally get to see you after 17 years and the first thing you tell me is to get as far away from you as possible?” 

“Stanley, you don't understand what we’re up against. What we’ve been through!” Ford walks past Stan, his hand gripping his hair. “We? C’mon, Stanford. Don’t tell me you dragged your kid into this.” 

An argument unfolded and no matter how hard you tried to stop them from fighting, they continued on. It got to the point where it got physical and where Stan got injured. Ford came to his side, asking if he was okay. Stan, overrun by anger pushed him, Ford’s back slamming against the lever which powered on the portal. Your stomach drops. Last time that portal was on, you lost Fiddleford, you can’t lose your dad too. 

Shoving the book into Ford’s chest was the last straw that broke the bridge. The portal sucked up Ford, suspended in the air he threw the book towards Stan. You ran over to grab your dad but he was too far beyond your reach. Your breathing was quickened and your head was spinning. You couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Uncle Stan, do something!” 

“Stanley, do something!” 

His name was being shouted in his ears, overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do. Ford was fully sucked in and the portal shut off, blasting you and Stan back. When you recovered from the initial blast, you got up to your feet and grabbed the switch. You pulled with all your might, but nothing worked. “Uncle Stan!” You sobbed out. “Do something, please! Help me!” 

“K-Kid, I…” He walks towards you. His words were failing him, he didn’t know what to say. He had just ripped your father away from you and he lost his brother. Not knowing what else to do, he wraps you in a hug as you painfully sob into his jacket. 

“I’m sorry, kid.” 

@catr4dora @squ4respace i hope u guys liked it!! i wrote it with u guys in mind LMFAO and if u didn't im so sorry gulp

[rezwrites]

Hi! Love your writing!!

I have a suggestion/request:

So, reader is a lesbian married to someone their own age, but Dark Agatha wants reader to herself, and knows there are things only she can make them feel.

Mommy/dom/corrupting and stuff

Thanksss

I’m glad you enjoy the works!

Warnings: +18 MDNI, dub-con, infidelity/cheating, corruption, cursing, strap-on, deepthroating, rough sex

Setting the dirty clothes basket on top of the dryer tossing each article of clothing into the washing machine, you came across one of your wife’s collared shirts with plum wine lipstick stain on the collar, a pair of pink lace underwear balled up inside the shirt. This couldn’t be happening, you didn’t think your marriage was bad for your wife to cheat. Tears started forming in your eyes, heart sinking to your stomach.

“Baby! I’m home!” your wife’s cheery voice called from the front door. Stepping out of the laundry room you see her placing the grocery bags on the table, her dirty blonde hair released from her braid framing her face. The giant smile on her face immediately dropping when she sees your tears, rushing to you.

“Abby.” chewing your bottom lip, showing her the articles of clothing, “please be honest with me.”

“Baby,” her blue eyes widening like saucers, mouth open, “I swear on my life I don’t know where those came from. The lipstick stain is just as much a mystery.”

“Abs, I have no reason to doubt you but this; I can’t wrap my head around this.” Pulling a chair from the table, you took a seat putting your head in your hands. Abby followed suit pulling a chair next to you.

“I’m at work all day and when i’m not there I’m here with you.” She pulled your hands away from your face, holding them, “I haven’t been with anybody else, I swear.”

The rest of the night was full of silence, you’re still coming up with illogical scenarios outside cheating to figure out where the stain and panties came from, none of them obviously not making sense. Abby knows not to disturb you when you’re too deep in thought, though some part of you wished she did so you could stop spiraling internally. That night you both slept with your back towards each other. It hurt to not hold each other.

Waking up early unable to go back to sleep you decided go into work. Quitely getting dressed you headed down stairs. Making a simple breakfast, you set an extra plate of eggs and toast beside for Abby when she woke up.

“You can’t leave without hugging me first.” Abby’s tired voice startled you, her eyes red. You didn’t even hear her come down the stairs. She stood at the bottom of the stairs holding her arms outstretched, a deep frown etched into her features. Abby’s warm, strong arms wrapped around you, the woody scent of her cologne still lingering on her shirt. She kissed your forehead repeating sorries. You leaned up shutting her up with a kiss, whispering I love you against her lips before heading out. You texted her about her breakfast on the counter before driving to work.

—

Working away on this quarterly report the CEO’s assistant dialed your line informing that the would like to see you in her office, stressing you to hurry. Walking to the elevators, your nervousness elevated with each passing floor. You’ve only seen Ms. Harkness a handful of times when you sat in on a board meeting, and at holiday parties for the company, each fleeting conversation you’ve had with her had been pleasant. The doors opened on the top floor, the hard silver floor echoing with every step you took. The receptionist directed you to the office, pointing towards the imposing double doors at the end of the corridor.

Knocking on the black granite door, you heard a muffled come in. Entering the CEO's office, your eyes were immediately drawn to the breathtaking view of the city skyline through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was filled with the soft, warm glow of natural sunlight. The room exuded an air of authority and sophistication, making you feel both privileged and slightly intimidated.

Ms. Harkness gestured for you to sit in the plush, leather armchair. The coolness of the smooth, polished surface of the mahogany desk sent a shiver down your spine. Sharp and straight-to-the-point Ms Harkness pointedly asked, “You’ve worked as the assistant CFO for how long now?”

“Three years next month, Ma’am.” you responded, subconsciously cracking your knuckles to ease your anxiousness.

“And in that short time your reports have excelled our company. Your clear, concise statements show us where we need to improve and decrease our operations. Now, I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging but I made a great decision hiring you. In my professional opinion you’d do better as CFO than an assistant.” Her voice grew proud as she praised you. A grin on her face, as she sat up straightening out her bronze blazer.

Your body warmed at the praise she dished out, lightly squirming underneath her bold gaze, “That’s a huge responsibility, Ms.Harkness, but I thank you for the kind words, and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to gain so much experience and knowledge in such a short time.”

She laughed at your formality, “Please just call me Agatha, dear. I apologize if I frightened you with the sudden call here. I actually wanted to commended you on your wonderful work, and take you out to lunch to get to know you better.”

—

The elegant restaurant had dimly lit chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, casting a low, golden glow over the room. Soft classical music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling steaks and freshly baked bread. Feeling severely underdressed in your simple above-the-knee dress you attempted to cover yourself as you awaited a table.

“No need to fret,” Agatha guided you in front of her to follow the hostess, leaning down as you passed her, whispering in your ear, “you look exquisite.”

Sitting down on the smooth, velvet booth the soft fabric brushing the back of your knees and shoulders. The hostess hands you the menus notifying you that your waitress will be with you shortly, “Velvet upholstery? That’s in interesting choice. It must take a lot to clean if wine is spilled.”

“I think they keep up maintenance every night.” She responded, eyes locked onto the menu.

The waitress comes to your table asking for drinks. Agatha requested, “Two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, please. Our order will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Wine in the middle of the day?” You chuckled nervously.

“Why not? I’m letting you go home early anyway.” She caught your eyes bulging as you lowered the menu, “Only if you wish to. I know you came in early. I’m sure you’ve been working diligently all morning, you deserve it.”

The waitress comes back with two glasses. Agatha pours you both a glass, toasting each other to a nice lunch. Taking sip you note acidity mixed with gooseberry and white peach. There’s so many options on the menu, they overwhelmed you, way out of your comfort zone.

“This wine pairs well with light seafood or chicken.” Agatha chimed-in, eyes focusing back on the menu, “Have you decided yet or do you need another minute?

“I decided to play it safe with the Chicken Alfredo.” you folded the menu handing it to Agatha, relieved that they had your safe food.

When the waitress returned Agatha had ordered for both of you, getting herself Halibut Ceviche. Agatha reminds you of Abby this way, a woman who knows what she wants and takes charge. You would actually love to surprise Abby on a date here one night, it would be a nice gift after she’d dealt with her rambunctious students all day.

“Dear? What’s with that frown?” Her eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t noticed you were frowning reaching for the stem of your wine glass.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” you dismissed. You hadn’t noticed you were frowning reaching for the stem of your wine glass.

“Come on.” She places her hand over yours offer you a reassuring smile, “It’s okay to tell me.” Agatha makes it easy to talk to her outside of work, seeping such a comforting air.

“I think my wife is or was cheating.” You stared at your wine, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Well, what happened?” She folded her fingers resting her chin on them, azure eyes watching your every move.

“There was a lipstick stain on the collar of her shirt.” You opted to leave out the panties out of embarrassment.

“It wasn’t yours?” She pried, taking another sip wine.

“No, I don’t particularly like dark lipstick colors. And I’d think I’d remember staining my wife’s collar.” You realized the bite in your tone, “sorry.”

“Hmm,” she squinted her eyes at you, you could see her thinking, “While I honestly can’t give you any advice besides trying to talk it out with her. I can tell you that whatever you need I’ll help you however I can.” She squeezed your hand, the food arriving at your table.

She turned to conversation to more pleasant topics. Agatha told you stories about her early college days. Once she got mad at one of her professors for contradicting herself too many times during a lesson. Agatha had given her the finger, written fuck you on the board and left, never taking the class for the rest of the semester. Both of your sides hurting from laughing to hard, “I ended up taking the class again in my last year. Under a different professor, of course.”

You felt bad having Agatha pay the bill even though she offered, so you covered the tip. Returning to the office everyone stared at you as Agatha escorted you to your office. Exchanging personal numbers, Agatha expressed again that she would be available to you day and night.

—

“You’re home late.” Noting as Abby walked through the door hanging her laptop bag on the hook.

“I’m sorry, baby. We had a curriculum meeting that ran late.” She came up behind you hands on your waist. Peppering kisses on your neck, peering over your shoulder watching you scoop the meat into the bell peppers, “Dinner smells delicious.”

“It’s turkey-quinoa stuffed bell peppers, it just needs to go in the oven for twenty minutes.” You moved to place the pan in the oven, afterwards turning towards her pecking her on the cheek, “Why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner.”

You giggle as Abby raves about dinner while telling you about finger painting with her kids at work and how she almost fell asleep in the meeting. After dinner she cleans the kitchen as you set up a movie marathon for you both to wind down from the day. Abby sits beside you bringing you closer to her warm body. Although there’s still a sliver of doubt in the back of your mind, you were content snuggling, watching movies together.

After a while Abby got up to use to the restroom, leaving her phone by you. It lights up repeatedly, you really didn’t want to look, wanting to trust your wife, but the hearts in the messages caught your attention from the corner of your eye.

「I miss you babe. I had a great time today😘

I can’t wait to see you again❤️❤️❤️

I got that thing for us to try😉 」

“What the fuck!” Shouting, you grabbed her phone.

“What’s wro-” Abby came back down the hallway only for her phone to collided with her chest, startling her. Desperately, she reached out grabbing it, jaw dropping at the screen. You’re fuming, face contorting with such an intensity she’d never seen before.

“No bullshit, Abigail! Explain that!” Glaring at her, tears blurring your vision.

“I don’t know that number! She balled and unballed her fist, visibly trying to keep her tears at bay, “I swear, I would never cheat on you.” You both went back and forth. An argument turned screaming match, loud enough to shake the pictures on the wall.

Stopping yourself mid sentence, you dropped your shoulders, staring at her, “I can’t stay here tonight.” Rushing out of the house, you ignored her pleas.

Pulling into a gas station you sit and collect your thoughts, feebly attempting to hold yourself together as your phone rings, “Ms. Harkness, would it be possible if I stayed with you tonight?”

“Of course, dear, not a problem at all.” Her honeyed voice acted as a light in the dark, “I’m sending you the address now.”

—

Agatha was already waiting outside when you pulled in the driveway. The faint scent of fresh flowers wafts through the house, adding a touch of nature. As you sink into the luxurious leather sofa, you feel the softness enveloping you, providing utmost comfort.

“I love her. I thought she loved me, I just can’t believe that she’d do this.” Breaking down into sobs Agatha cradled you in her arms, not saying a word, rubbing your back letting you get it all out. Once your sobs subsided into sniffles Agatha titled your chin up, her warm lips falling on yours. Face twisting in shock, you pushed her away, “We can’t-”

“Don’t.” A tight grip on your jaw kept you from getting too far away, ”I know you need this.” She pulled you in for another kiss, this time rougher and more disorienting. Wrong, this was so wrong. Not only are you dealing with a fallout with your wife but she’s your boss.

Agatha slipped her tongue past your lips moving slow, enjoying the feeling of your mouth, occasionally coming back to lick your tongue. You hated to admit that you did need this. Months without sex left you pent up, something coming up each time you two try. You couldn’t even recall the last time your wife kissed you with such wanton desire.

“Come back to me, doll.” Smiling when your eyes focused back her, she couldn’t wait to ravage you. Picking you up she wrapped your thighs around her waist, walking to her bedroom.

Depositing you onto her plush queen-sized bed, draped in smooth satin sheets that shimmer in the soft light. The satin sheets cool and silky against your hot skin. She walked over to the adjoining bathroom ordering over shoulder, “I want your clothes off by the time I’m back.”

You know you shouldn’t but the ache in between your legs was too much. Not enough to keep you here, this has gone far enough already. Shaking your head you started to move off the bed to leave.

“I gave you an order, little girl.” Agatha stood at the edge of the bed naked, and arms crossed. You paled at the strap hanging from her jutting hips. She lowered her voice, leaning forward on the bed, “Take your clothes off.”

“Now!” She raised her voice at your hesitation, gaze hardening. Not wanting to anger her further, you quickly stripped. She stood back up tapping her hip, “Come get it wet.”

With a hitch in your breath you crawled over to her. Getting closer you noticed the purple undertone of her cock in the light. Dragging your tongue across the head of the strap you could see her stomach tensing. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving her cock deeper, “You look beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

You choked, the tip of her cock hitting the back of your throat. She pulled back before throughly fucking your throat, your nose touching her harness. Unable to look up at her shame and arousal growing in your core, as your head bobbed up and down over her shaft. Gripping at her thighs to hold yourself steady, tears began to brim your eyes.

“Look at you.” Agatha heaved, pulling you off of her, smearing your spit on your face, “my messy girl.” She pushed you down on your back, hovering over you, her hand falling over your cunt, “I don’t think I needed you to suck me off, your cunt is dripping.”

“Does she tell you how sexy you are?” Pressing chaste kisses to your neck and chest as she slipped herself inside your cunt. Mewling, arching your back as her cock sunk deeper into your depths, your eyes rolling back.

“Not lately.” you sighed.

“Not lately.” she scoffed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I’d be sure to tell you every damn day.” She accentuates each word with a thrust. She picked up her pace, fully bottoming out.

Whining as her thumb drew over your clit, it hit you embarrassingly quick how close you were. Agatha suddenly pulled out, and flipped you on all fours. Nudging you further up the bed she pulled your hips towards hers.

Pushing herself back inside, her hand snaked under your chest holding your jaw again. Sweat mingling with hers as she laid her body on top of yours, her hips pistoning into yours. Agatha’s husky voice reached your ears, “Can she make you feel like this? Give you this deep pleasure?”

“I bet she’s so afraid of getting a strap or toys.” she chuckled, dropping her tone again, “I want you to think of your sweet wife and tell yourself the truth. That she only satisfies the surface, not the deep primal need you have to get fucked ruthlessly like an animal.”

Moaning as she dug her nails into your hips, driving her cock deep and fast into depths. Your arms felt like jelly, giving out you fell to your chest. Biting your bottom lip you tried to keep your tears from forming.

Agatha’s thrusts slowed down to a halt, lazily rubbing your clit. The grip on your jaw tightened, possibly leaving bruises. Agatha growled out, “Tell yourself, doll.”

Fisting the sheets, your salty tears fell on your lips, crying out, “No! She can’t make me feel this good!”

She grunted pushing herself closer against you, returning to her previous speed. Fucking you breathless, each touch of hers set your body alight. You sobbed as your body shook underneath her, cunt clenching around her cock. Agatha fucked you mercilessly through your orgasm, sucking harshly at the crook of your neck, working herself through her own orgasm.

Pride swelled in Agatha’s chest as she watched your body collapse on the bed, your pussy glistening. Slipping away to toss the strap into the bathroom sink, she returned to find you curled in on yourself, the sheets halfway covering your body. Laying behind you she reached for her phone on the nightstand, the newest message read:

「 I don’t know who you are but you may have just ruined my marriage!! 」

Putting her phone back down she smiled to herself, she definitely knows she destroyed your marriage. Your cries dissolved into sniffles as Agatha traced patterns along your spine. She knows there’s many emotions going through you in your post-orgasm clarity.

Maybe-no you had acted rash. Your chest tightened at the thought of how you’re going to confront your wife after this. Sobs bubbled up in your chest again, full of regret, shame, and guilt. Sitting up to grab your clothes, lithe fingers wrapped around your bicep, pulling you back down. Agatha covered your body with hers, settling her smooth thigh against your sticky cunt.

A devilish smile on her face, “We’re both taking off work tomorrow.”

[ll7esxs]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

The first "I love you" in the relationship [requested]

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan russ, kick

notes: SFW content, kinda chessy for me since i love angst more than this shit but whatever man whatever this fandom wants

Logan walker:

yeah you are the first who is going to say it don't argue with me.

Logan struggles with words and would never rush into saying it.

tbh i think logan has never had partners in his life :(, he kept training not knowing anything about love.

sometimes i think hesh is the one who couraged him to date and elias too, telling him that he has been more than 30 years serving for this country and even though.

elias controlled and balanced the love and working with his mother.

It happens A late-night moment at home, when he’s quiet but seems lost in thought.

I think when you have been dating for months? like more than 8 months.

You’re curled up against Logan, watching, but he’s barely paying attention. His mind is elsewhere—probably thinking about a mission he can’t talk about.

You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He sighs closing his eyes, leaning into your touch and getting out of the blurred world he was in.

"I love you, you know that?" you said lifting your head up to look at him.

Logan freezes,oh boy even his body tensing slightly against you, you can feel that already.

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—even though he’s felt it for a while.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words but failing.

Instead of answering right away, he gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tighter than usual. After a short pause, he finally murmurs, “…I love you too.” which made you smile into his arm, you were proud of that to let this sweet boy speak of his feeling.

Later, he shows it rather than says it—staying close, kissing you, covering you in blanket when he thinks you're asleep, and making sure you’re always safe.

because words aren’t enough, but he hopes you can feel it.

Hesh walker:

he will say it first, But he blurts it out impulsively.

hesh is the one with partners but i see he had 3 or 2? and they weren't that serious they didn't reach that level with him.

but since he is a grown ass man (28) he found you

going out with him for classic dates.

It happenes in a playful moments while teasing each other.

in the kitchen, you kept arguing playfully talking back to him gahly! he thinks to himself how did i get with a woman like this.

"god you're impossible...I love you" he said with a soft shrug hands on his hips looking down smiling.

he said it without thinking, The moment he realizes what he just said, he freezes, eyebrows raising slightly like "Well… guess that’s out now."

and you had butterflies and bugs in your stomach like hello? did this handsome just tell me that??

"oh my god david?!" you said with a happy chuckle, heart already out of your chest "you just said this!!".

you wanted to step closer to him, He watches your reaction closely, trying to act all cool and confident but is secretly panicking inside.

you shaking your head while holding his face, which lead him to hold both your arms. "I love you too!"

his grin turns soft, and he pulls you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere."

totally forgetting about the baking yall been making out. (wtf did i just type)

Keegan russ:

bro why is it so hard to write keegan, like this man is a hella mystery.

you are the one who said it sorry, cuz Keegan is way too guarded to say it first.

why i think he thought about his job first before you like he hates it if you are involved with someone like him, what if something danger happened to you because of him?he is way too cautious.

but because of those damn eyes of yours the weakest thing he will do is keeping you with him.

how did it happenes? late night walking, this man adores these times secretly especially after he has been with ya.

i think he ended up with a talk active partner? but no that much, he is just a listener and a talker sometimes.

you like it when he talks, his creative words and the sarcasm he is using making you say unbelievable about him.

He had insisted on walking you home—not out of obligation, but because it was simply in his nature.

When you reached your doorstep, you turned, your fingers curling around the doorknob. The soft glow of the porch light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw, the glint of something unreadable in his eyes. (lord have mercy i got too much in details)

“Well, kid," his deep voice rumbled through the quiet, rough yet familiar, "guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, warmth flickering in your chest at the easy finality in his tone. He turned, hands tucked into his pockets, ready to disappear into the night like he always did. (bro is batman but he never tell you that)

“Keegan?” The name left your lips before you could think twice, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him stop.

His shoulders stiffened for the briefest moment before he turned back to you, his lightened gaze steady.

You didn’t wait any longer—you just walked up to him, arms wrapping around his neck. His eyes met yours, and God, it was so hard to be honest while looking into them. It seemed just as hard for him.

He was stunned, motionless, but his gaze remained stoic, unreadable.

“I love you,” you murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He took a moment, then let out a stiff chuckle. “Must be the champain messing with your little head.”

“Shut up. I said it… I love you.” The second time, your voice was firmer. That’s when his eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at his lips—your first time seeing him like this. Gentle.

For a long time, he doesn’t speak. The silence stretches, heavy—almost unbearable.

Then, finally, he whispers—so quiet you almost miss it.

His fingers close over yours, grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment.

He exhales, then presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

“…I love you too.”

Then he went to the shadows of the streets and after that time, you never see him again...

im joking bye.

Kick:

Kick is always aware—sharp, cautious, both in his military work and personal life. Nothing slips past him.

He never talks about his partner. He’s a ghost, a skillful one. Never caught, never seen unless he wants to be. Have you seen the kill list? He’s needed, and yet the feds can’t find him.

He doesn’t have trust issues, not exactly—but he’s careful. Always watching, always a step ahead. Especially when it comes to his relationships.

He even hesitated to date you, afraid you’d get hurt because of his work—afraid that if anything happened, he’d never forgive himself. Not even in death.

But he went for it anyway. Because he knew how to protect you. He kept you far from enemies, tracked every possible threat—all without you even knowing. He was secretive like that.

Man fuck the enemies he thought, he is in his 30s and we live one time why don't just have a partner in ur life?.

Not even the gang knew he had a partner. Only Merrick, who one day casually let it slip in front of him—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So he said it it just slips out casually not knowing the effect he will do on ya.

He said it during a random completely unromantic moment.

He doesn’t even realize what he said until your eyes widen. "Oh, damn. Did I just say that?"

You shrugged, still shocked. “Uhm… yeah, you did!” You shook your head, trying to process it.

He tried to play it off, acting like it was no big deal. “Well, yeah, of course I love you. Have you seen yourself?”

You couldn’t find the words. Your eyes softened as you looked at him, still stunned, heart pounding in your chest.

But when he saw you getting emotional, the act dropped. He smiled—small, genuine—and muttered, “Alright… yeah. I love you. For real.”

And later, he proved it. Small, silent acts of devotion—fixing things for you without being asked, making sure your coffee was just right, staying up just to watch you sleep peacefully.

[katekathry]

hiii guys, I'm baaackk

Okay, first of all, I'm nervous as hell for posting this lol so please be kind. It's the first time I'm posting a fanfic, so it won't be perfect, because my native language is not English, so there are probably some mistakes. This first chapter is a little short, but eventually I will increase it.

I want to thank @claramelooo very VERY VERY much for reading and liking it, if it weren't for her and her incentives this would never leave the drafts jsjsjsjs, a huge thank you also to @wandasgirl69 for being the sweetest person and also having encouraged me 🫶🏻

Okayy, I think that's it :P please tell me your thoughts and if you liked it :)

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Chapter 1: Do I know you?

Alright, just a few adjustments here and there, a bit more time passing than usual, and I finally make it into the store. It’s almost evening, so the place is pretty much empty. I step inside with a soft sigh, hands practically glued to my pockets, and head straight for the meat section.

Everything seems relatively calm — I haven’t bumped into anyone since I got here. But then, that strange feeling hits me again. I grip the shelf in front of me tightly as I hear children laughing and a voice, way too sweet, calling for a little girl. I know it’s a girl — there’s no mistaking the yellow dress she’s wearing. I can’t quite catch the name, but it sounds oddly like Emma. I always brush it off, though. If it really is Emma, I’d have to start taking all this way more seriously.

As quickly as it came, the feeling fades. I can breathe again. I lean more against the shelf and let out a shaky breath — but there’s no time to dwell on it, because once again, I feel someone next to me. And she’s reaching out— NO.

I’ve got less than a second to take a step back and tell this poor woman I’m perfectly fine. But I freeze the moment I see her eyes. That same strange feeling — that vision — hits me like a runaway train. Her eyes… they’re exactly the same as the little girl I’ve been seeing every day for the past three weeks. The same slightly golden rims, the same melted chocolate color, the same gaze.

But it’s weird — I’ve never actually seen the girl’s eyes before now.

I snap out of it when the woman gives me a light shake. It yanks me back to the present — and that terrifies me. It’s never happened like this before.

“Are you okay, dear?” I hear her ask, her brows arched in concern.

I nod, though my head’s still spinning.

“Yeah, it’s just… a bit of a headache.” I try to smile at her, but I know it comes out more like a grimace. And how do I know? The look of exasperation on her face is almost touching.

“I live just a block away. Let’s walk. I’ve got tea that’ll fix a headache in five minutes,” she says — and just like that, she turns and leaves me standing there.

She just walks off.

But after five steps, she glances back, one brow raised, like she’s saying, “You coming or what?”

So I follow her. Like a lost puppy.

I don’t even know how we got out of the store, let alone into her house. But when I come to, I’m sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea in my hands and a shawl that smells like cinnamon and incense draped over my shoulders.

I blink, trying to ground myself, and look at the woman — she’s staring at me like I’m a complete mystery. Which, to be fair, I probably am. And she definitely isn’t far off either.

“Do you always invite random women into your house like this? I could’ve been a psychopath.”

It’s probably the dumbest thing I could say in a stranger’s home — especially because she…

“And what if I’m the psychopath, hmm? Do you always accept tea from strange women that easily?”

I shoot her a glare, narrowing my eyes.

“I would’ve sensed that when you touched me.”

“Your magic’s as unpredictable as you are, sweetheart. We both know that.”

Clock.

The first sign.

My blood runs cold instantly. I’m frozen, just staring at the woman in front of me.

“This is our twentieth meeting, stellina . You’ll remember eventually. This one… and all the others,” she says, with a strange sadness in her expression.

I open my mouth to ask what she’s talking about — but then the second hand ticks and the sound feels deafening in my skull. I must’ve touched too many people today.

“What are you talking about?”

She looks at me with a soft, almost mournful smile and shifts in her seat, fiddling with her ring finger — and only then do I notice she’s wearing a wedding ring.

It happens again. But this time it’s not a vision — it’s real. A little girl runs into the room, shouting happily. She’s smiling, so bright and calm. I stare at her in shock.

It’s her — the same girl I’ve been seeing in my visions for the past three weeks. How…?

“You’re back, Mom!”

Mom.

“Emma, no—”

The woman starts talking to the girl — Emma — but I can’t focus. Everything around me starts to fall apart, disintegrating like it always does. Every… day? Month? Week?

But through the cracks I see her — Emma, my daughter — playing with a little boy, and a woman calling them.

The same woman from the visions.

The same woman sitting in front of me now.

The mother of my daughter.

My wife.

Lilia Calderu.

… was this really the correct order of events?

[ellielatinagf]

Lacrosse!Ellie Part 2

Summary: after meeting that mysterious girl who had your heart and stomach in knots, you find a way to get closer to her

Warnings: mild profanity,

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

*follow*

You finally hit the follow button. After what felt like hours of just stalking the girls account. You thought about meeting her, but after your encounter with her the other day it felt pretty awkward and you didn’t want to seem to eager.

*Elli3mfwilliams started following you*

*new message*

Ellie: heyy

She was fast with it. You literally just started following her and she texted you??

You: hii

*seen just now* thank god she must be a fast replier

Ellie: how’d you find me?

You: Dina gave me your account. Is that okay?

Ellie: of course babes

Oh god that nickname. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know the way your stomach churns at the name and even wanting to turn itself inside out? Wait is she even gay?? What kind of question is that, one look and you can already tell she practically worships women. You tried to think of a way to get closer to her

You: are you any good at math?

Ellie: math genius

You: do you think you can help me? Like study and stuff

Ellie: sure I got you. Wanna meet up this weekend at the coffe shop by school?

Ugh, this weekend? It’s only Tuesday, this weekend is forever away…

You: sure!

Ellie: alright then, see ya later babe

You turned off your phone and placed it on your night stand. You laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You basically made a date with Ellie. Sure you two barely knew each other but it was better than nothing. You knew you liked women. You hadn’t exactly dated a woman but anytime you saw a pretty woman you just knew you liked them.

You woke up the next morning to your alarm clock throwing a tantrum on the drawer. You decided to get a little dolled up today. Maybe you just felt in the mood. Your humming to the song playing on your speaker was interrupted by the notification in your phone

*Dinasaur calling*

“Oh shit” You Said Running out of your room grabbing your backpack and rushing outside. You climbed in Dina’s car with half your makeup applied.

“Girl we’re gonna be late!” Dina complained “wait a minute why are YOU looking all pretty?” Dina asked smiling. You giggled and pulled down the passenger mirror to apply your lip gloss.

“I dunno just wanted to I guess” you smirked. Dina didn’t buy, but she didn’t push you. You both sang songs as she drove to school.

“Sooooo have you made any plans this weekend?” Dina asked as you both walked to your classes. Does she know? Did Ellie say something? I mean, it was Dina’s fault you got to talk to Ellie..but still.

“Uh yeah” you said trying to be general and not give hints.

“Ugh! Oh my god Y/n tell me what happened with you and Ellie!” Dina giggled grabbing your arm. You smiled rolling your eyes. Of course she knew. She’s your best friend. What DOESNT she know?

“We’ll nothing really…” You said. You wished something happened “we’re just meeting up for a coffee study this weekend”

“Lame!” Dina exclaimed “your telling me she didn’t fall to your knees and beg you for your hand in marriage?”. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope. Shocking right?” You replied. The two of you laughed a storm. Dina squeezed your hand goodbye and you both parted ways to go to class. Pre-calc . You hate pre-calc. You basically dragged your feet to class. Your foot missed the next step and before you knew it you tripped and hit your nose on the floor.

If this were anyone else you probably would be laughed. It’s a guilty pleasure. But you groaned and just before you pull yourself up, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

“You okay babe?” You knew that raspy voice. You looked up to meet a pair of green orbs staring at you. A pair of pink lips smiling at you. The embarrassment hit you like a punching bag your cheeks felt warm and turned pink.

“That was an interesting fall ” Ellie chuckled.

“Ha..sorry.. I mean thank you.” You smiled getting back on your feet “I’m fine, thank you”

“No problem babe. We still on for coffee this weekend?” She asked

“Yeah of course” you replied

“Great, I’m looking forward to it. Bye babe. Oh by the way, you look good today”

“Thanks…bye ellie…” you Said waving bye and watching the gorgeous god sent woman leave. Her backpack had space pins on it. Cute. Wait, she said she was looking forward to it. To you. She wants to see you. Oh god. You hated her. Why is so so damn perfect? She’s making you go crazy. That stupid gorgeous nerd.

So excited for the next one omg. Don’t worry there’s gonna be a LOOOOOOTTTTT of fluff trust me loves. Love you thanks for reading! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

@bready101

Dm or reply if you wanna be tagged!

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

Catching the BG3 Companions Reading the Quarta Sune - Gale Edition

content warnings: 18+, piv, unprotected sex, thermal play, hurt/comfort, softdom Gale, lots of vulnerable crying

pairing: f!reader x Gale, f!Tav x Gale

word count: 3400

A/N: So, it’s like a two-for-one where the first half is very fluffy and the second half is very smutty.  I put a clear break so if smut isn’t your thing, you can exit safely before the movie-rating changes! Either way, enjoy ye merry folk!

It was a rare day off from adventuring to allow yourself and your companions a day to recover from roughing it through the woods the past few weeks. You’d spent most of the day officiating a chess tournament between your companions and enjoying the spoils of an abandoned outpost with a well-stocked wine rack, together. Now, you stumble to a stand to collect more firewood as your companions roll with laughter, lost in drunken conversation. You smile warmly at your group when a small pang of guilt makes itself known in your chest.  Gale hasn’t been out all day; he said this morning he wanted to study some books you had picked up, but now that you think about it, he hasn’t so much as popped his head out all day.  You quickly walk past the wood pile and nervously continue towards Gale’s tent, and before you know it you’re standing in front of the canvas entryway.

Maybe he wants a break from everyone? From me…

Insecurity worms its way to the front of your mind as you freeze, feeling embarrassed at how anxious you feel after not seeing your wizard for just a few short hours.  You begin to turn around when you hear a familiar voice coming from inside.

“Delicious! Gah, but what flavor would she like?”

The relief you feel from hearing Gale’s voice is immediately infused with jealousy as you hear him pondering over the mystery “she”.  Before you can assess further your hand has already lifted the tent flap as you step inside and huff, loudly announcing your presence.  Gale turns in surprise before his face turns a shade of scarlet that envies the Esmeltar wine you had been enjoying with your friends throughout the day.  An embarrassed smile tugs on his lips as he steps towards you, away from the small worktable behind him full of herbs, flowers, and candles surrounding a boiling cauldron. 

“Sorry Gale, I hope she won’t mind me interrupting,” the bitterness in your voice more pronounced than you meant it to be, the wine somewhat overriding your logic.

Gale’s eyebrows knit together for a moment before he quickly realizes what happened.

“My dearest friend please-”

Before he can finish you cross your arms over your chest and inquire, “What have you been doing all day anyways?”

The wizard extends his hand towards you and you can’t help but soften just enough to accept his offer as he pulls you the few short steps across the tent to his workspace.  He hands you a small, steaming cup that smells like roses and honey, nodding towards the cup, “Do be cautious, it is very hot!”

You hold his gaze as your lips softly part to blow cool air across the surface of the tea, the steam visibly floating towards Gale as he deeply inhales the sweet scent.  You take a small sip and the floral tea immediately calms you.  It is more complex than you anticipated, tasting of rose, raspberry, dandelion, honey, and something…magical. 

“Gale…what is in this?”

His big, brown eyes grow wide with concern as his shoulders involuntarily slump, “You don’t enjoy it?”

The guilt is immediate and intense, it always is when he pulls out those ridiculous puppy eyes on you.  “No! Well yes, I mean- it is good, but why does it taste like magic?”

You scan the table as Gale attempts to stutter out an explanation, but then you notice the book on the stand behind him that he’s been concealing since you stepped in. He follows your line of sight and tries to step back in front of the book once more, but it’s too late.  You are already toe to toe and reaching around him to grab the book. 

“It is for educational purposes!” Gale cries out nervously as you look at the text in your hand; the left page has an assortment of tea ingredients and some suggested ‘aphrodisiac blends’. The right page is far more illustrative with a diagram titled ‘Threading the Weave’ with notes etched all along the side in a familiar hand.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you look at Gale miserably, jealousy and hurt taking over your wine-soaked brain that is conjuring images of your wizard and every pretty woman you’ve crossed paths with in the last few weeks.  You shove the book back at him with force, and turn to leave as tears threaten your eyes.

“Tav! I am sorry if my crudeness has offended-“

“Next time ask your secret flame to sample your offerings directly, don’t bring me into it.”

Your try to sound threatening, but the hurt in your voice is obvious as you step away from him towards the entrance as Gale sighs loudly, “You still don’t know?”

You turn back around with a glare despite the tears pushing out of your waterline, “What are you talking about?”

Gale sits down on one of the large cushions on the floor and pats the one next to him, an invitation to join.  You move slowly, eyeing him with suspicion as your mind races trying to piece together what he’s doing.

“I never have been good at this; I apologize for my poor communication. It’s just-“

“Gale I’m sorry.  You don’t have to defend your choices to me. It was selfish and stupid of me to pry into your things. You can do as you wish. I hope you enjoy your time with your new flame.” Your apology is sincere, though your heart still shudders in agony at the thought of Gale with someone else. You’ve been so focused on the many tasks at hand that you haven’t truly taken the time to tell him how you feel.  And now, you must suffer for it.

“My dear there is no new flame.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise so quickly that it forces a tear out of the corner of your eye as you stare at the wizard, now truly dumbfounded as he gently reaches for your hands.

“It has been on my mind for some time now, yet I was far too foolish to recognize it as quickly as I should have.  I have watched you lead our merry crew through epic adventures and have admired you from the moment I felt your hand pull me out of the portal.  Your courage, your strength, your gentleness…and the more I speak with you the more enraptured I become.  I began to worry that my humble studies have never prepared me for how to woo a creature as fair and noble as yourself-”

Gale’s nervous confession swirls in your mind as you stare at him, astonished that you never allowed yourself to see it.  You had both been so caught up in your insecurities that neither of you had acted on your feelings.  Fuck it.  You cut off the wizard mid-sentence as you lunge from your seat, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss as your hands cup either side of his face.  He hungrily kisses back as his fingers tangle into your hair at the base of your neck and he lets out a soft groan as you both pull back for air.  Now, straddling his lap, you look at his face and see his eyes are now also damp with tears.  You rest your forehead gently against his and stay like that for what feels like both a moment and a lifetime.  A loud sizzle interrupts the serenity as you both see the tea cauldron boiling over.  Gale leaps to his feet in surprise sending you tumbling backwards onto the floor cushions as he frantically puts out the small flame heating the cauldron.  You can’t help but laugh at his sheepish expression as he glances back at you, the crisis now formally averted. 

You stand and make a few short strides over to him as a mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“Gale, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, perhaps now that you know it’s yours anyways, would you like a cup of tea?”

You peer at the cauldron, the intoxicating aroma of rose and honey teasing your nose while the pink liquid swirls around the pot.

“Only if you will have one with me.”

a few hours later...

(also this is where the smutty part begins so if you’re only here for fluff, depart here friend!)

You lie on your side laughing as Gale animatedly recounts a story from his youth, when he stole a forbidden tome out of his headmaster’s office.

“Gale you didn’t!”

“I did! And he always suspected my classmate!”

You both roll into another fit of laughter but it is soon replaced with a gleeful, breathless quiet.  The two of you cannot take your eyes off each other; a warm smile spreads across Gale’s face and soon, you’re overwhelmed by the intensity of his longing gaze.  You look to your teacup to take a sip, but hum quietly when you realize it is empty.  You stare into the shiny bottom and turn your head inquisitively towards Gale, “I don’t believe you ever answered my question earlier…why is this tea so magical? Hmm?”

Gale’s cheeks flush as his eyebrows tense with thought, but he laughs, “I can’t quite remember honestly.” And he reaches up to the corner of the table above his head, his hand searching for the guidebook.  You roll onto all fours and crawl across the short gap to sit by Gale’s side, flushing with anticipation.  He brings the book down into his lap and you glance around his shoulder, hovering so close to him you can see the chill run up and down his arm.

Sensual Tea Blend:

-8 parts water

-2 parts rose petals

-2 parts fresh honeycomb

-1 part dandelion root

-1 part raspberry leaf

-1 handful of jasmine flowers

Scribbled into the side of the list you read Gale’s handwriting:

Extract of Rogue’s Morsel to promote romantic appetite. Ergo and nutmeg to relax the body and mind!

You giggle, hearing his voice read the note in your own head before you confirm out loud,  “Romantic appetite?”

Gale looks at you wide-eyed, biting back a smile on his lips, “Well, is it working?” He bats his eyelashes playfully, but quickly adds, “For scientific research, of course!”

The tea has certainly made you feel different, and you subconsciously bite your lip and scrunch your nose trying to come up with the right description.  Gale shifts his body to turn towards you, before he gently leans you back into the many cushions before sitting next to you and beginning, “M’lady, we shall begin with a brief physical exam if I may?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you gasp in surprise at the boldness of the wizard next to you, but you concede and nod your head to begin, trying to keep the grin from taking over your face. 

“Excellent!” He smiles before holding his palm up, closing his eyes and focusing until a soft, pink light glows warmly from his hand.  He slowly hovers his hand above your body, working carefully not to actually touch you, but to remain close enough to feel your skin relax in the warmth.  He slowly leads the light up one side of you, around the top of your head, and down the other. A small sound, almost a purr, rolls from the back of your throat at the sensation, causing Gale to give a satisfactory, “I see, yes. One more quick test…”

He retracts his hand and in a moment, Gale whispers a quick spell under his breath and a small ball of swirling ice replaces the flame in his palm.  Your eyes get big as he slowly drags his hand over top of your stomach, and breath loudly catches at the cold.  Gale looks at you, quietly waiting for your approval to move on; you bite your lip and nod, pushing your head against the pillow in anticipation of the sensation. His hand hovers up slowly, as he leans in closer to see your face as the harsh cold hardens your nipple and Gale lets out a soft groan as it pushes against your sheer tunic. His hand is a breath away from touching you, but you hold your breath as he hovers across your sternum and up onto your other breast.  You whimper softly at the cold and Gale tries to stifle another, louder groan.  Your hands jump from your sides; one holding his wrist, the other gently pressed against his chest.  You lock eyes for what feels like an eternity and in an instant, Gale shakes his hand and the cold orb is gone for only a moment before he desperately palms your breast and moves onto his side to kiss you. 

You both moan like beasts, weeks’ worth of tension breaking as your hands roam as far as they will reach.  Gale slips a hand under your shoulder to hold you up just long enough for you to slip your tunic over your head before Gale’s face is immediately at your collarbones planting harsh, wet kisses across your chest.  He lets a hoarse growl from his throat as your fingers tug at his soft brown locks.  Your hands tug gently at the shoulders of his shirt before he sits up to remove his own tunic and you slip off your trousers, his eyes wide as saucers, his mouth salivating at your nude form.  He quickly crawls back on top of you, taking both of your hands and pinning them on either side of your head as he leans in so close you can feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers, “Do you often forgo your underclothes, or is it a special selection to visit my tent?”

You whimper as he lets go of one of your wrists to tightly grip your hip as he pulled you into him, the hard bulge in his trousers pushing against your bare thigh.  His hand slowly releasing your hip bone as he slowly caresses the softness of your stomach and travels down your hips to follow the curve of your thigh in towards your burning core.  His hand stops just short of the throb between your legs and you whine, louder this time before you cover your mouth, afraid you’ll alert your companions. Gale removes the hand from your mouth and whispers again, “I made sure to create a barrier for the sound in my tent when we began; I find it easier to rest when I cannot hear the snores of our dear Karlach, and thought it could come in handy in the off-chance I would be the noisy neighbor!”

You giggle at him before he gently moves his hand so that his middle and ring finger push firmly against your clit.  You moan loudly at the pressure and gasp as he moves you in soft, slow circles while his head swivels back to your mouth as he captures you with another deep, slow kiss.  You whimper against his mouth as his fingers move slightly faster and your hands fumble out, searching desperately as you palm the large bulge now fighting against the laces of his trousers.  He groans loudly with the contact and it emboldens you to reach for his wrists, as you slowly remove his hands from your body and raise them above his head while you move to straddle his waist.  His eyes grow wide in surprise at first, but then quickly become elated as he eagerly watches you take the lead. You lean forward so your breasts are just out of reach above his arms to turn the guidebook on the floor so you can see it again. One figure sits on the ground while the other figure leans back in their lap, their legs draped over the shoulders of the sitting partner.  Gale turns his head to follow your stare and lets out another groan when he sees the diagram.

He quickly sits up, and reaches out to grab your waist before pausing, sheepishly smiling knowing he has quickly struck down your attempt to lead.  You lean back onto your elbows and spread your legs wide, revealing your core with a smirk as you tease, “It’s okay dear, you can take me however you want this time.” You bite your lip, a bit shocked at your own confidence as Gale practically growls as he stands up to shed his pants and underwear in one motion.  His cock is already damp from your teasing, the sheen noticeable even in the warm candlelight that illuminates the tent.  You practically howl, throwing your head back, desperate to feel him as your thighs involuntarily shudder at the sight of him.  He smiles confidently as he returns to his knees before reaching out to pull you onto his lap by your ankles.  You feel his member brush against your folds as he positions your legs over his shoulder and you gasp out his name. He answers with a grunt as one hand secures your thigh over his shoulder, while the other drags his cock against your entrance again, this time with more pressure. 

“Gale please”, you plead with him, his enthusiasm and charm turning you into a whiny, desperate mess.

“I’m sorry my love, can you be more descriptive?” He just barely pushes the tip of his length into you before removing it again, causing you to moan and wiggle your hips to try and find the friction again. He gives a hearty chuckle before he asks, “Darling, all you need to do is tell me, please.”

His eyes are dark with passion, and he turns to give you a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your thigh before he turns back to look at you, encouraging you to speak with a nod.

“I want to feel you inside of me, now.”

Gale grunts as he pushes himself inside you, the movement is easy with how wet you are from the very drawn-out foreplay.  You rock your hips as Gale clamps his fingers into both of your thighs, thrusting his hips to chase yours as you both whimper and moan.  His thrusts become stronger, a snarl-like sound escaping his mouth as he watches your body jiggle with each impact.  The sensation is overwhelming as you lock eyes with the wizard and hold his stare as you begin to toy with your breasts.  You feel him twitch inside you for a moment as the sound of his hips bouncing off your ass becomes louder and his hands move from your thighs to your hips, pulling you onto him so vigorously that you feel each impact vibrate in your ribs.  The knot in your stomach winding tighter as you hold against him tighter with your legs, one arm propping you up while the other travels down your body to find your clit as you let out a cry of pleasure at the double stimulation.

Your wizard is groaning uncontrollably and you whimper at the sight of him as you feel him beginning to twitch inside you again before he lets out an ecstatic groan and you feel the warm result of your lovemaking filling your core as he continues with tired, sloppy thrusts while you gasp out, “Gale I’m so close!”

He continues to fuck you, tears welling in his eyes from the overstimulation and you let out a scream when you finally feel the tension in your body release in a flood of pure pleasure.  The sensation is so overwhelming you squeeze your eyes shut and ride the feeling as you come undone, Gale still buried deep inside you as you both slow to a still.  You carefully let your legs fall to either side of him while he carefully pulls out of you, causing a small mess between your legs that drips onto your thighs as you groan.  The wizard all but collapses forward, laying on his stomach next to you for only a moment before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling your naked frame into his.  You lay together silently for a long time, until your bodies calm down and you feel sleep trying to settle into your eyes. 

“Gale,” you whisper.

“Yes my dear?”

“Perhaps we should get dressed before we sleep? This is a bit compromising don’t you think?” You look down at your bare bodies tangled together and Gale chuckles softly before waving his hand; a blanket floats from his bedroll and stretches to cover the two of you. You laugh at his solution and cuddle back into his side before floating off to a deep, comfortable sleep in the arms of your wizard.

I really hope y'all enjoyed this one! If you read the whole thing we're making friendship bracelets. If you like this kind of stuff, feel free to follow/reblog as I have plans for more in the future. Ask box is open if you have any requests, comments, or questions :)

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

2p America, Canada, Russia, England and France with a mysterious novelist that has continued to evade them because they enjoy their safety.

Spicy! I’m sorry it took so long! But it's here, and it's done!

It’s raining again.

The thought rang out against the silence of the streets like the thunder did above. It echoed and bounced around my brain like the heavy drops that fell around me. Each small droplet that hit my umbrella slid off toward the hard ground, they splashed before joining their brethren as one of the various puddles. Then just like that thought and singular drop did both disappeared. Fading back into the emptiness of my mind.

I carried that emptiness with me. It followed like a second skin as I continued my walk home in the rain.

My slow steps eventually reached the familiar walkway of my home. The singular paved way of stones that led to my grey, front door.

The one that should have been locked. Shut tight to protect its valuable insides from the elements and threats.

Yet, it stood before me ajar.

In the evening light I could see the dark crack behind the door. In the silence it called to me. Whispering tales of untold dangers. Threats that could be lurking in the shadows of my safe place.

As I bit into my lip in thought, my brain fought the darkness’ song with logic. I could have left the door unlocked. Maybe the wind knocked at the door just right. There was probably nothing inside but a couple leaves…

Something moved.

My feet stuck to the stone like I was a statue as I swear something flickered briefly in the dark crack.

Was that an eye? A piece of clothing?

No, I took a step back as the rain pounded against my umbrella. This was beginning to feel familiar.

A poor girl, young and tired returned to an empty home. The first victim that lied within the ink of my latest mystery/thriller.

SHE found her door unlocked.

SHE played it off.

SHE discovered the killer in her house.

SHE DIED.

A draft I had shown no one. Not even my editor.

And yet, this was too similar.

To exact to be anything but a recreation of my undisclosed work.

I shudder as I take another step back. I can feel my heart race against its cage, my breath picked up as the door starts to open.

I can’t stay here.

Acting on instinct as I see a shadow of a man, I bolt. Away into the storm.

Nature would be safer than whoever that predator was.

America: Baby-doll, *glass crashes* it’s time to put down that pen and come with me.

 Allen’s not the happiest man as you use mystery logic to evade and escape. Like who just keeps a lock pick on their person? No one… unless you’re a 2p that is. But that’s different according to Al, he needs it to work.

The worst part is that you saw through his ploys to enter your life. Which means there is no emotional trap he can pull. He would be lying if he said that fear isn’t a pretty look on you.

Over time, Al’s pride will be crushed, just like with the professor. So, he eventually does something similar: He surprises you by holding your loved ones at gunpoint.

I would say it’s either him or them.

But we all know, it’s him.

Canada: Maple…

Matt’s torn. He loves the thrill of the hunt. The fact you use the research from your books to dodge his hands makes him ‘hungry’. At that same time, it pisses him off because he has to return to a cold cabin empty-handed.

Why can’t you just submit? Let him take care of you. He promises it is safe.

As long as you stay inside.

Eventually, he can’t handle your escape attempts any longer. It’s time to change these little sprints of attempts into a full marathon win.

Just like a good mystery, he’ll start by herding you into the woods. One where he’s certain that if he and Kuma can keep you from the road long enough, you’ll give up. Too tired to fight back, he’ll take your exhausted self to his home.

Hope you're ready to become a piece of local folklore.

Russia: любимый, come quietly and I promise you, that your career can continue.

Viktor will watch your escape attempts and evasions with a quiet, yet prideful disdain. He admires the skills your writing has helped you to craft but hates how they take you further from him.

It makes him wonder to what extent he should contain you. If he were to buy your publisher’s company. Then buy your manager. Perhaps a blacklist that prevents you from finding another publishing company and undermines any outlets you try to put your work out.

Those might be enough. If he’s lucky you’ll come crawling to him first.

If not, at least he’ll warn you before your stubbornness just gets you shoved into a car.

England: Poppet, it's time you become the damsel of your own mystery.

Sweet Ollie feels like you’re playing hard to get. Flirting with him almost as you try to twist and turn out of his grip.

Each escape causes his eyes to twitch and swirl with pink as his smile only widens. Maybe it was time to call in a couple ‘mysteries’ he knows well.

Sure, you’ll scream as various different beasts and things from local folklore come after you. But once you’re in his arms, you’ll happily let him hold you, if only to keep the monsters away. Show him the sides only he gets to see. Don’t show them to anyone else.

And they’ll stay away.

France: No more running Mon Cher.

Unlike most other chases, where François quickly resorts to drastic and yet effective means, this one he happily drags out.

The French man is eager to see how far he can push you and how much of your own work you will use to escape him. He hopes to catch you in a trap from your own works, but… if that doesn’t work he will settle for a different piece of mystery.

You won’t last forever. Eventually, he’ll find the right puzzle. The correct trope that will drag you into his arms.

[skywalkoverme]

"𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧" 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 4

Series Masterlist

𐙚 Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: You and the Jedi reach a military base in the rainforest.

Warnings/contains: dom! male, dom! fem, Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, forced proximity, near death experience, anakin does not like you, more to come as the series goes on etc, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.4k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

You moved a strand of hair from your face and followed him. From the distance, you could see the large base, men in military uniforms patrolled the area surrounding it and up in the two watchtowers. You approached the gate with your hood pulled over your head and watched as the men folded into a bow. The gate was raised, and your team entered the base. “Admiral.”

A man in grey approached the team and bowed, “My Queen…” He’s a tall man, a much paler blue than you with fidgeting hands. He looked around. “Is this all the men you brought? We can spare a few if you need them.” 

“No, that’s alright. I’m safe.” You agreed. “This is our first checkpoint before the river. These men need to freshen up and gather more supplies.” 

The man’s hands continued to fidget with themselves as if he were extremely nervous; however, his expression was confident. “Of course, M’lady, right this way.” Anakin watched the way you and the young man spoke, almost as if holding back because Jedi were here. You walked close to him, unlike how you did with Anakin or any other man for that matter. 

Inside of the facility, Anakin washed sweat off his face, neck and hair and patted it dry with a warm towel. Obi-wan looked over the map once more and the sniper, now known as Quinn, gathered ammunition from the bunker. 

Across the room, you and this mystery Admiral spoke by the control panel, your hands relaxed on the edge as the man stood nearly against you. You appeared calm although he still nervously switched between your eyes and his own hands. “You should really come by the palace more often, Oli.” You said, your hand ran down his arm and to his hand. 

“I know, it hasn't been very busy before now. I regret not using my time wisely.” 

You nodded, his leg rests between yours as you spoke. “I missed…I miss your company.” 

Anakin leaned on the table beside Obi-wan, but he glared at you through his eyebrows. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the debriefing.” The admiral removed his hat. “That was quite unprofessional of me.” Anakin did recall an empty chair to your left, but he figured it was to create space between you and him. 

“We should head out now if we want to reach the river by midday.” Anakin said. His voice was deep and his gaze strong. 

“He is right, Oliver.” You straightened yourself out. As you put up your braids and wipe sweat off your forehead, the admiral now known as Oliver watched you in awe. You smelled like the shore and sweat. Your skin looked moist, perfectly so in his eyes. 

The Jedi and your two technicians wait outside the base; Anakin arms folded as you took your time walking with your Admiral. “Take this, [Y/N].” You held the electric band. “You know what to do with it.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The man wanted to kiss you but instead, he placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Please, please be safe.” You nodded. His gaze turned to the Jedi. “Do you trust them?”

“I’m starting to.” 

You waved as the gate closed behind you, his sad eyes followed your steps as you disappeared into the thick rainforest. “I don’t recall her mentioning a river.” Obi-wan said, keeping alert.

Anakin wasn’t focused on that at all, instead on your lingering smile. “I saw it on the map.” He shrugged. 

“Hmm. Does she really know this terrain?”

“We’ve gotten through just fine by her lead.” Anakin’s eyes stayed on your back as you walked the unclear trail.

The more you walked, the sound of water, rushing, splashing and gushing echoed through the trees. Anakin could see the body of water; however, it seemed to stretch more and more the closer you all got. “Wait.” Anakin sneered and pointed to the water. “How the hell are we going to cross that? It’s at least ten meters across.”

“Relax, Anakin. There's likely a bridge.”

You shook your head, “we cross it through the water.”

“We could get swept away.” 

“Then don’t.” From your bag of supplies you collected; you offered Anakin a rope. “For extra protection, we can tie this around our belts. We will make it across.” Anakin tied the rope to his belt and offered it to you, you finished then passed it to your men and they passed it to Obi-wan. “You may lead, General Obi-wan.” 

He secured himself to the group and stepped into the hip deep water. “Be careful, your highness. It’ll likely come up to your chest.” 

Aside from the sounds of wildlife and the splashes created by your boots, it was quiet. Such silence made Anakin antsy. With slow and careful moments against the current, you and the group were all surrounded by the water. “We are in a very vulnerable position.” Anakin grunts, keeping a lookout behind the group as you walk forward. Your hand clutches the back of Quinn’s uniform to keep steady.

A mechanical whirling like a saw could be heard. “What was that?” The bomb technician, Will, asked. You swallowed you spit as Obi-wan made it to the other side, he pulled up the next man. 

In a swift movement like a slice of a knife, a blaster bullet flew past your head. Anakin held you in the tuck of his arm and ignited his lightsaber. “Droids to the East!” He yelled out. The sniper covers your front as Anakin deflects the bullets that neared your head. “Obi-wan!”

“I know!” The man untied himself and ran up the side of the waterline, covering most of the shots. The sniper left the water. Anakin knew it wasn’t safe enough for you to leave the water yet, but the rushing current is deadly. “Anakin! Get her out of here!” 

You stayed in the tuck of his arm and watched the clankers as Obi-wan sliced through their metal. Anakin hesitated. “Anakin! Get her out of the water!” Obi-wan yelled as the bomber threw an electric grenade into the group of silver droids, shocking the group to death. 

You lost your footing in the water and got caught under. Water filled your lungs as you reached up in an attempt to escape. Anakin pulled you firmly to his chest and tied the remaining rope around you and him. “Stand the fuck up!�� 

You nodded, “I’m sorry!” You said through coughs.

He turned you so that the bullets didn’t reach and walked with you to the other side of the river. By the edge, he climbed on the group with you against him. You coughed as he leaned over your back, the rest of the water in your lungs escaped onto the moss. He brought you to the undergrowth as Will, Obi-wan, and Quinn finished off the rest of the droids. 

Your clothes are soaked in water and your waist is tightly tied to his. Anakin took a moment to catch his breath, your ass pressed back on his crotch. The man untied you and moved away from you, his hand rests on a bark as the others joined you two. “They know she’s with us! I knew this was a mistake.” 

“It’s not a mistake!” You bitterly reminded him.

“You know, I was just starting to believe that maybe you do know what you’re doing but you’ve proven me wrong. Your inner city is vulnerable now that you left! That isn’t very strategic.”

“My city is fine! There are plenty of soldiers who are protecting it as we speak!”

“You’re here all because you didn’t trust us to blow up a ship or two of droids! Now look, they know you’re with us and they’ll hunt us down! When are you going to start trusting us?!”

“When you prove to me that I can.”

“I just saved your fucking life, your highness. What more do you need?” You closed your fist tightly and turned to Obi-wan. He hesitated to intervene. He didn’t want to be in this at all but it’s his job as a negotiator and a Jedi. 

“Regardless of our previous point of view, you are here now. We are Jedi, and we adjust to change.” 

“I will trust you when you can prove that you aren’t dead weight.” Anakin held his hips; his deep blue eyes clutched your attention by the throat. “Something isn’t right here. For the past few hours, it seems you came out here to put blood on our hands in the instance of your death.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Anakin, fall back.” The man sucked his teeth and turned to the back of the formation. “We need to reach the next checkpoint by dawn. After, the droid base is only a few clicks west.” Obi-wan glared between you two. “Let’s keep the peace for the remainder of the trip please.” 

You nodded. 

Series Masterlist here!

[greyfongschemmenti]

This Is How It Feels | Part 1

Pairing: Regina Mills x Reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 1k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary:

In a mystical town where dark magic intertwines with everyday life, the formidable and wicked Mayor holds sway over all. One rainy night, a mysterious stranger appears, a curious mind who slowly will uncover secrets and allure. As the Mayor and the stranger's paths cross, a forbidden attraction blooms, leading to a spark that both don’t understand. Can love and happiness be brought with danger, betrayal, and a battle between light and darkness.

Notes:

As I’m rewatching OUAT I have gotten the feeling to write this fanfic. Hopefully you all will like it. I will try to keep the gender of the reader neutral.

The rain poured relentlessly as you arrived in the quaint town of Storybrooke, your car broke down at the town’s entrance and you’ve been walking into town seeking a dry place to wait out the storm. You find the only place that’s open tonight, a diner by the name of Granny’s. Shrugging your backpack on you push the door to head inside the establishment. There’s some people in the establishment, a couple of young adults chatting and laughing over milkshakes and fries. You wipe the raindrops off your sleeves then find an empty booth in the corner.. You place the backpack in first then take a seat looking at the door, a little quirk you always do for safety. You hate having your back towards a door. Reaching down your pocket you pull out your phone to realize it has no power “crap, I forgot to charge it”. You mutter under your breath as a menu slide towards you “Welcome to Granny’s! Oh my, you're soaked!” a red haired young waitress greets you warmly. 

You look up and give her a small smile then take the menu to give it a glance “thanks, um yeah my car broke down just at the entrance of town. Had to walk in the wait to find help”

“I'm so sorry to hear that! Let me get you a towel and a hot cup of coffee to warm you up.” She pours you a cup of coffee and look at you more intently as you look at the menu “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before”

“Uhh, yeah I’m not…from here. I was—“ you begin to explain but notice eyes looking your way. Ruby looks over her shoulders then turns back to you “don’t worry this town isn’t used to new people.” She kindly explains as she gives you a warm smile. 

You sit up straight and tug on your sleeves as a defense mechanism “I see that. Um thanks for the coffee. I think I’ll just have this for right now” you give her a soft smile. Ruby returns the smile and turns to leave when you almost forgot “oh! I’m sorry. Do you have a phone I could use to call a mechanic?” 

Ruby gives you a nod “yeah sure, but Billy's shop is closed for the day. We have lodging. You’re more than welcome to stay here until he opens. His shop isn’t that far from here�� she gives you a sympathetic smile 

You look at her and give a short nod “That sounds perfect. I'm grateful for your help.” Giving her a small smile as she turns back to head to the counter. You prepare your coffee then take a sip. The door opens and a dark haired woman steps inside heading toward the counter “Ms. Lucas can I get a coffee to go?” Her voice is short and direct as she pulls her dark gloves off her hands. 

“Sure thing Madam Mayor” 

She turns around to face the crowd as she leans against the counter to wait for her order.You glance around the diner when your eyes rest on the mayor. you gaze at her profile and feel a pull. You shake your head in disbelief as you take another sip of coffee. Sliding out of the booth to grab your backpack. You reach down into your pocket to pull out your wallet and take out a couple of dollars for the coffee and tip. You turn around when with a second to react you grab the person you almost collide with by the arms to prevent them from falling. 

Time seemed to stand still as your gaze met the Mayor’s. In that instant, a torrent of emotions surged through your body. Your heart quickened its pace, aflutter with a mix of excitement and nervousness. A tingling sensation crept up your spine, sending shivers down your arms as if touched by an unseen force. Not understanding why you’re feeling like this.

“Watch where you’re going” the dark haired woman raised her voice. A flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, but you quickly regained your composure as you released her arms. "I'm sorry," you murmured softly, straightening up.

The Mayor looks you up and down in a quick glance. She quickly composed herself, her lips curved into a small smile as she spoke, "Well, you saved me a day at the cleaners, so no harm done." She raised her coffee cup in cheers, the warmth in her eyes matching the gesture.

Your smile mirrored hers, a chuckle escaping your lips. Her gaze lingered on you, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "You know, as Mayor, it's my job to know everyone in this town."

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm just a passerby. My car broke down just outside town. Granny's has been most hospitable." you reach your hand out toward her “I’m y/n.”

"Regina," she offered you a warm smile though her smile falters a bit "Welcome to Storybrooke. I should get going." With that, she made her way towards the door.

"Goodnight, Madam Mayor," you called after her, watching as she opened the door and stepped out into the night.

You stood there for a moment, the memory of her lingering presence still fresh in your mind, before finally making your way to the diner counter to inquire about a room for the night. The thought of seeing Regina again brought a flutter of anticipation to your heart, wondering what new encounters and connections awaited you in the charming town of Storybrooke.

The warmth of the diner and the kindness of the people in Storybrooke start to melt away the coldness you felt from the rain. You find yourself wondering about this mysterious town and the people in it. As you settle in for the night, the sound of the rain outside lulls you to sleep, your dreams starting with the images of the mayor, a soft smile appearing on your lips.

[runforthehillsbestie]

A Ghost In The Night

(This is my first attempt at writing Simon Riley!)

Hooking up, p in v

"Seriously, fuck off!" You snap to your date as you storm towards the doors of the bar.

Just a minute ago a girl came up out of nowhere and leaned in to speak to you over the music.

"Sorry, hun, but he's taken."

You had laughed at first but it quickly became clear from your date's silence that the girl wasn't joking. You're not sure what you're more angry about, the sheepish look on his face or the fact that she didn't seem to mind that you were on a date with her boyfriend, as though she didn't view you as competition. You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt. Your stomach flips as you fight back tears.

Why the fuck do I keep doing this to myself? You wonder, veering sharply into the empty alley beside the bar because the last thing you want is for those two to see you hacking the contents of your stomach up.

Luckily the feeling of nausea passes. The music from inside thuds in your ears as you press your back against the cold wall with a sigh.

I should just go home. My vibrator works just fine. I can use that.

You fish around in your purse for a tissue to try and mop up your tears, unwilling to admit even to yourself that what you're really craving is the touch of another person. Why is it so hard to get laid?

"Bad day?"

The sound of another person's voice in the alley--not far from you at that--startles you and you swing around, automatically fishing your mace out of your purse.

"There's no need for that," the deep, gritty voice says. "I'm harmless."

You have to squint to make out the man standing in a shadowy corner. There's a faint glow from the cigarette in his hand but it's not enough to reveal anything.

"Are you following me?" You demand.

His tone is amused as he says "I was here first, love."

"Can you not call me that?" You snap, disturbed by the fact that his drawling British accent is doing something for you.

"Thought you could use it," he says.

"I don't need pity from a stranger, thank you very much," you huff.

He drops the cigarette on the ground, flattening it under his boot. "I don't have to be."

"What?" You frown.

"A stranger. We could change that right now."

He steps forward and your mouth falls open as he comes into the light. What the hell? He's huge. He wears a skull mask over his face, leaving nothing but his eyes visible, which is slightly terrifying but also attractive. You're no longer clutching your mace, instead you're just staring at him like a rabbit in headlights. You don't even make a move to protest when his calloused fingers touch your jaw.

His thumb skitters over your lip and then he does it again, pressing a little harder this time so your lipstick smudges against his finger. He lets out a slow exhale. Your eyes are the size of saucers at this point as you melt under his touch. Is this a bad idea? Should you trust this guy? You have no answer to that and it's killing you.

"Tell me no," he says heavily, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

You part your lips but nothing comes out. He walks you into the corner and your cheeks go hot as you take a step back and bump against the wall. His hands come up on either side of you, hemming you in.

"Um--" You clutch your purse, ducking your head. "Are we doing this... Here?"

"People hook up in all sorts of places." He tips your chin up to look you in the eyes. "Yes or no?"

His body warmth radiates against you as he presses close, leaning down to brush his covered nose against your neck. You shiver at the feeling of the slightly scratchy fabric against your skin.

"I don't even know your name," you murmur.

"Call me Ghost."

You laugh shortly. "What's with the mystery, stranger? And the mask?"

You reach up playfully but he catches your wrist so quickly that it makes you gasp. He softens his grip but doesn't let you go.

"Don't touch it. The mask stays on," he says, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah, okay," you say.

He hesitates before he releases you like he's checking to make sure you won't make a grab for his mask. You don't. Instead, you crane your head up to look up at him, admiring the long blond eyelashes that frame his eyes. His big hands slide down your arms, feather-light against your skin.

"You haven't answered my question," he says.

"Yes. Uh, I'm in. I mean, I don't know what we're doing but... I like where this is going."

You can feel your whole body go up in flames of embarrassment. Why are you fumbling over the potential of hooking up? He doesn't tease you for it though. His hands cup your waist and pull you into him.

"No need to be shy," he says.

His hands slip lower and you're confused for a second before he picks you up like you weigh nothing, pressing your back firmly against the wall. You swallow your squeak of surprise, automatically hooking your legs around his hips. You feel the cool night air brush against your inner thighs as your dress slips up and your eyes widen.

"Oh, I'm not... I'm not wearing any underwear," you confess in a rush.

He pauses, his breath staggered against your hair. "Then I'm a lucky man."

You jump at the feeling of his warm fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh and squeezing greedily. The rough pads of his fingers slip higher and your eyes flutter shut when he cups your pussy. Your clit gives a wild throb at the contact.

"Hmmm." It sounds like a sigh and a masculine groan mixed into one. "You're wet."

"A-a little," you whisper.

"Is that right?"

A finger slicks up your folds, just barely touching your clit. You struggle not to moan at how good it feels. It's exactly what you've been craving, minus the alley part, but even that gives the situation its own thrill. You're clutching onto a stranger while he feels how wet you are for him and it's so dirty, like a fantasy right out of your dreams. When he presses a finger inside you can't help the quiet moan that slips out of you.

"There we are," he rasps. "Let me hear you, sweetheart."

You're certain he can feel the way you clench down on his finger when he calls you that. He laughs softly and you look up at him. He's gazing at you, his heavy breathing muffled against the mask. You barely register yourself leaning forward to kiss him, mask be damned. The moisture of your mouth dampens the fabric and his face nudges against yours. He's kissing you back through the mask. You eventually have to break away for air, your lips tingling from the friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching his wrist between your legs. "I want you inside me."

His eyes darken hungrily. "Condom?" He asks, and your belly swoops like you're going down in a rollercoaster.

"I'm on the pill," you reply.

You throw your arms around his neck, delighted to feel soft strands of hair peeking out from under the mask at the nape of his neck. You hear the sound of a zipper rolling down and his knuckles bump against your thighs as he fists himself and you both groan when the blunt head of his cock presses against your entrance. He slides his cock through your folds, soaking himself in your wetness.

"Take a deep breath for me," he instructs, and you can't help but giggle. "You're cocky."

"Am I?" He shoots back, driving his hips forward.

His cock notches against your entrance and begins to slide in, and oh, you find yourself needing to take that deep breath. You clench your teeth and try to relax as he slowly thrusts into you. This position means you don't have anywhere to escape to, so you settle for digging your fingers into his biceps.

"Fuck," you whimper.

"Alright, love?" There's a hint of wry amusement in his voice and you smack his chest in response.

"I can handle it," you scoff, but you're once again proven wrong when he pulls back and roughly shoves back in and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the wail that bursts out of you.

It's almost too much but the stretch is addicting. His face drops to your neck as he fucks into you, his strong arms and the wall against your back your only support. His cock hits the perfect spot from this angle, each pass over your sensitive walls causing you to hiss. You need to channel what you're feeling somehow and also keep from screaming your pleasure to the sky, so you settle for pressing your face to his shoulder. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and his own musky scent. Your open-mouthed moan turns into a bite, your teeth clamping down on the firm muscle under his shirt. The next thrust is brutal, a punishment for biting him.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbles. "You're coming apart."

His hand cups your tit through your dress, squeezing harshly. You squeal against his shoulder, your hips bucking into him with wild abandon as your climax looms like a cresting wave. You hear a grunt above you as he slams into you one more time and stills, giving you the sexiest groan you've ever heard as he cums, flooding you. Your pussy clamps down, milking everything from him.

After a few moments he pulls out, letting you back down to the ground and steadying you when your shaky legs almost give out. He smooths your dress down and gives you a little pat on the butt. Your combined mess starts to leak out of you and you curse, grabbing your purse off the floor and searching for a tissue, turning away to surreptitiously clean up. What do you say to him now? You clear your throat.

"Thank you?" The words die in your throat as you turn and realize you're alone in the alley.

If not for the way your pussy is aching deliciously you would have thought you had imagined everything.

He's gone.

Hope I did okay. Reblogs are much appreciated <3

@runforthehillsbestie

[bedoballoons]

maybe like a character x mitsuri Kanroji like reader?

so basically misturi has pink and green hair, is very cheery and nice, has a HUGE appetite, she has almost inhuman strength a basically her muscle density is 9 times higher than the average human. And is extremely flexible hand a ribbon like katana. I think a pryo vision fits best.

I literally love your workkkkkkkk♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Awe thank you!!! <3 I had so much fun writing this!! I hope you like the characters I picked and I'll totally write others if you don't!! Sorry it took so long to finish!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Misturi Kanjiro like reader!~༺}

CW: Fluff! Sweet moments! Pet names! (Belle by Lyney and Love by Kazuha!), confirmed relationships for most of them!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, Kazuha, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Your stomach growled hungrily in excitement as you stepped into the kitchen, Dilucs long red hair tied back in a messy bun while he prepared breakfast, his hands busy chopping vegetables and cooking up your favourites, just because he loved spoiling you. "Are you making what I think you're making?!" You asked excitedly, hurrying to his side to take a peek and smiling widely as the smell of delicious food hit your nostrils, making your tummy growl again in response.

"But of course and I made extra so you could have leftovers for lunch." He leaned over placing a kiss on the top of your head as you cheered and wrapped you arms around him in a celebratory hug. "Thank you!"

𑁍༄Lyney:

You had a bounce in your step as you made your way through the crowd of people, your long pink green hair tied up in sweet pigtails as your eyes focused in on the center of attention, which was Lyney and of course his assistant Lynette, the magic duo of the century. Pure joy bubbled through you while you watched the two of them perform trick after trick and the audience clap after each one, things you swore couldn't happen, but somehow he made them happen.

Then to your surprise his eyes landed on you, a mischievous smile taking place on his lips, as he addressed the group of watchers once again, "For the next trick, I'd like to pick someone from the audience! Hmmm what about you Belle, could you do the honours?" He pointed to you, your face instantly blushing red as you walked towards him, his hand gently taking yours and leaving a rainbow rose in its wake. "Could you hold this for me?" He asked, his cheeks slightly pink which made you want to giggle, he was kinda cute..."Okay!"

"Now put your hands together, rainbow rose on the inside and make sure no one can see it." You followed his directions, closing your hands around the rainbow rose and making sure there were no ways to peep at it, your whole body tingled with excitement as he spoke the magic words. "And reveal!" You pulled your hands away and suddenly your singular rose had turned into a whole bouquet, growing right in front of your eyes and bursting with all the colours of the rainbow.

"WHAT!"

𑁍༄Albedo:

"No matter what tests I try...it seems I'm unable to come up with a explanation for your inhuman strength. You're a mystery to me...a sweet adorable mystery." Albedo said softly, his bright blue eyes meeting yours as a blush spread rapidly across your face, your heart pounding harshly in your chest when he stood up and made his way to you, his hand reaching out to help you up from your seat.

"I'm not the only mysterious one Mr. Chalk prince, speaking of which! Do chalk people eat cake?" You beamed up at him, his arms wrapping around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead, a small chuckle escaping him. "Im not sure chalk people is the appropriate term...but either way, yes I eat cake." You hugged him back lifting him up slightly as you cheered, "Yay!! I have some in my bag! Let's go!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Fire swirled around you in brilliant orange and yellow hues, shifting and whirling in every which way with the wind as its guide, it mesmerized you to the point you were almost speechless. "Kazuha...this is so beautiful!" Your hand squeezed his tighter, your visions glowing in harmony as he hummed in delight and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. "The way wind mixes with the elements is very calming, the colours that flow with every breeze and the way it can bring vision bearers together, letting them work in harmony. It's lovely.."

You nodded happily, your eyes trained on the incredible sight all around you...

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer flashed a smirk at you, his eyes wide with excitement as you readied your weapon, the ribbon like texture of the blade making him raise an eyebrow...what the hell were you going to do with a ribbon? "You sure you don't want to back down? I won't go easy on you, even if this is sparing." His voice rang in your ears as you smiled back at him, your katana glinting in the sunlight as you held it up in his direction, "I won't back down! Just you wait!"

He chuckled and with that the match begun, the two of you shooting forward at high speed, wind blades flying mere centimeters from your face as you delicately dodged. Your body spinning slightly as you got closer, your katana swirling like a protective shield around you and yet also being sharp enough to draw blood, which became clear when the two of you parted.

The dust parting and revealing a small cut on wanderers face, his eyes absolutely shining now as he laughed maniacally, "I shouldn't have underestimated you! This is going to be fun!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[lulublack90]

Prompt 26 - Ignite

@jegulus-microfic October 26, Word count 537

Part 2 of Prompt 23 - Inspire

First part

It took Regulus a week to call him. James had almost given up hope. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the intense man who had ordered him still as he furiously drew his likeness. James got chills every time he thought about how those clever, elegant fingers had skimmed across the page and the way those hauntingly beautiful grey eyes raked over his entire being as they took in every flaw and attribute that was James, transferring it into his sketchpad. He’d felt something ignite inside him when their eyes had met, and he needed to see him again. 

He invited Regulus to his favourite bistro. The food was good, and it wasn’t full of stuffy busybodies. He found a good table by the window and sat down to wait. 

“Hey, gorgeous, how’s it going?” The beautiful sandy-haired girl said as she leaned against his table. 

“Hey, Marls,” James grinned. Marlene was one of his friends from uni, and she worked part-time in the bistro, so he always got free cups of coffee when he came in. “It’s going well. In fact, I’m meeting someone here hopefully,” Marlene’s eyes widened with intrigue. 

“Oooo is this the mystery stranger that forced you to pose with a peeled banana?!” James snorted.

“He’s not a stranger. I know his name.” 

“No, don’t tell me, I need the mystery!” Marlene clamped her hands over her ears until James shut his mouth. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

“Just a coffee for now, ta. I’ll wait until Reg— He arrives.” Marlene disappeared to go get his drink and James waited. 

Regulus was late. James kept checking his phone in case Regulus couldn’t find the place or was running late, but no messages had come through. He waited for nearly an hour before sighing and giving up. He didn’t feel like eating now, his stomach was all gurglely. He waved sadly at Marlene and walked out the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and, with hunched shoulders, walked back towards his flat. 

He passed an alleyway between two buildings and heard someone chastising themselves. 

“Idiot, why can’t you just walk in there? You’re so late now. He won’t have hung around. Such an idiot!”

“Regulus?” James asked. The alleyway went silent. 

“No,” Came a quiet, embarrassed voice. James walked into the gloomy passage and spotted the hunched figure behind one of the bins. He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Regulus took it. 

“Come on, you can come back to my flat; I have cheese and bread. I’ll make you a sandwich,” He didn’t let go of the stuttering man's hand until they were nearing his flat. He slowed his steps. “Sorry, I’ve just realised I’ve basically dragged you back to my place. Er, you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, I can walk you home or back to the bistro…” He was running out of things to say. How could he have been so forward with the obviously nervous man? 

“I like cheese,” Regulus was still quite shy, none of the commanding artists shining through. James took his hand against him and led him up the steps and into the building. 

Next part