#and obviously she's older and more settled in herself now

[archer973]

One of the things I realized when I watched Fury Road directly after Furiosa:

Furiosa doesn't treat Max like she treated Jack. She treats Max like Jack treated her.

There are so many parallels - the way they meet, their conflict with each other that quickly turns to partnership, their journey to The Green Place (and how it fails)...

But where before it was Jack reaching out to her, now it's Furiosa who is asking Max his name, teaching him the kill sequence for the rig, trusting him to have her back in a fight, giving him everything he needs to leave (even when she wants him to stay).

Furiosa doesn't see Jack in Max, she sees herself. Everything from the muzzle to the nightmares to the fact that he barely speaks is a direct parallel to what she was like when she met Jack, and Furiosa knows it. And so as someone reached out to her, she reaches out to him, this feral, half-mad Wastelander. She reaches out and offers him hope, just like Jack did to her when he came back for her on the Fury Road.

And together, they find some kind of redemption

[watchmegetobsessed]

NO MORE GAMES

A/N: so this concept might be familiar for some of you bc i posted about it earlier before i started working on it but now its officially here! and this is my thank you gift for all of you for reaching 15k followers!!! it's insane, thank you so much and hope to bring you even more stories soon!!!

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it's a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad's barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father's company.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“This has got to be the lowest point of desperation.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

“I’m not, this is truly the end.”

Dani rolls her eyes and just keeps tapping away on your phone’s screen, setting up your Tinder profile.

You. On Tinder. The app you swore you’d never use. How did this happen?

Well, it happened because your boyfriend of two years decided to dump you in a McDonald’s parking lot, only to post about his engagement to another woman on Facebook three weeks later. 

Disgusting pig, you’re convinced you were blind and deaf in those two years, that’s how you could put up with him for so long.

You’ve been wallowing in your self-pity for the past three months and Dani, your best friend had enough and said that you need to get on a dating app, hook up with some fine ass men and forget about Cruz.

“Alright, it’s all set, want to have a look?” Dani smirks, obviously pleased with herself as she hands you over the phone.

It’s a decent profile, she chose some good pictures of you, your profile was never your concern, it’s others on the app that makes you crawl out of your skin.

“Perfect,” you flash her a forced smile, she grabs the phone and then starts swiping vigorously. “Hey! Don’t swipe right on everyone!”

“Not everyone! Just the hot guys!”

“You’re not even reading their bio!”

“Because I don’t care, we’re looking for a hookup, not your husband here, duh!”

You sit, feeling helpless as you watch your best friend decide who is worthy of you in the virtual meat market. This is really not your scene and you’re more than skeptical anything good will turn out from it.

Dani keeps swiping for a while before you finally talk her out of it and you settle watching a movie instead, forgetting about the profile that is now available for every single man in your area. 

To be honest, it completely slips your mind until you’re getting ready for bed and unlock your phone to set an alarm and see all the notifications from Tinder.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, falling into bed as you unwillingly, but tap on one of the notifications and the app opens.

It’s been only a few hours, but you got twenty-seven matches and five out of those even messaged you. You instantly skip the first three because one straight up asks for nudes, one just sends you a bunch of emojis and the third one sent the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard. 

The fourth one is okay, but it’s kind of… well, it’s a simple “Hi, how are you?” and you’re not sure how to reply to that, so then only one’s left.

Harry.

The age next to his name reads 36, that’s not that big of an age gap, only eight years, you’ve seen worse. Besides, he looks younger, almost your age according to the pictures. He has a couple, but not too many. He’s smiling on his profile picture, the t-shirt displays his many tattoos on one of his arms, his hair is slightly curly and mostly a mess, but it’s the good kind.

He is definitely your type. 

He opened with referring to something that’s written in your bio which feels nice, knowing that he actually read it instead of just swiping right based on your pictures. Your thumbs hover over the screen for a bit before you finally give in and type him an answer.

He replies right away. And so the conversation starts.

One message follows the other, you’re jumping from one topic to the next and at one point it feels like you’re talking to an old friend and not a guy you’ve never actually met. The next thing you realize that it’s three am and you’re still talking. 

Y/N: We’ve been talking for hours and you still haven’t asked for my number, should I take it as a bad sign?

HARRY: Didn’t want to seem too pushy, but I wanted to ask for it the moment I saw your profile. 

You smile like a little girl as you type your answer.

Y/N: That would have been too soon, you’re right. But now would be a good time.

HARRY: Hey, crazy idea! Can I maybe have your number?

You laugh. You genuinely laugh at the screen and that probably never happened before.

You give him your number. 

You didn’t think it would go this far, this whole Tinder ordeal Dani forced you into. You were kind of set that it won’t work so why should you even try? 

Now it’s a surprising outcome that you’re on your way to meet Harry at a bar, only three days after texting nonstop. And you’re kinda nervous about it.

You haven’t been on a first date in a long time and it’s giving you the jitters as you get ready. Your experience getting to know Harry in the past few days has been incredibly positive, you wonder if it will be the same when you physically meet.

You arrive at the bar a little early and take a seat at the table he reserved on his name. To ease your nerves you order a vodka soda that you drink quickly, the alcohol mixing in your veins pretty fast, but you’re still nervous to meet him in real life. 

As you wait, a guy comes up to you who seems to be more interested in your cleavage than you while he tries to chat you up, but you quickly reject him, your gaze keeps returning to the entrance, expecting Harry to walk in at any moment.

Minutes pass by and then seven o’clock rolls around, the time when you were supposed to meet, but you see no sign of him, which makes your stomach twist and turn. You double check the time, the date and the place to make sure you’re where you need to be.

“You seem awfully lonely,” a voice speaks up behind you and for a split second you think that it’s Harry, you just missed when he walked in, but when you turn around you see a totally different man, holding two drinks in his hands, clearly offering one to you. You make no effort to accept it.

“I’m not,” is all you say, turning your eyes back ahead. He doesn’t get the hint.

“If you’re waiting for someone I’m happy to be your company until they arrive.” He rounds the table and stands in front of you, blocking your view of the entrance entirely. Exhaling irritatedly, you finally look up at him, your face making an obvious statement that you’re not open to the chit-chat.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You definitely seem like you could use some cheering up, let me be the–”

“Oh my God, are you really this dumb? It’s a no, I don’t want to talk to you, now leave the table!”

“Jesus, what a bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he walks away. Normally, you’d definitely call him out, but right now, you’re just staring at the entrance, almost like a maniac as the minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Harry.

You check your phone, praying there’s gonna be a text at least, saying that he is just late, that he will be here soon, but nothing. It’s dead silent. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your feet jumping underneath the table. It’s already twelve past seven. This is not just being fashionably late now.

You wait some more, hoping for a miracle, but it never comes. So does Harry.

When it’s been over thirty minutes you chug down the rest of your cocktail you ordered to make you seem less like a loser and call it a night. On your way out of the bar you pull up your messages with Harry and send him one last text.

Y/N: Thanks for nothing.

And then you block his number, throwing the experience to the very back of your head while you delete Tinder off your phone.

The annual barbeque is here. Once a year your dad’s home turns into one big fair, he invites most of his employees, investors and partners, throwing a feast in his backyard. It means about five hundred people invade your previous home, where you still spend a lot of your time even though you have your own apartment now. 

You always come as well, because one, your dad loves to show you off and introduce to everyone and two, you usually use this occasion to network a bit. You’ve just opened your own gallery and what’s a better place to promote your art than a backyard full of wealthy investors? Selling your art can seem like an impossible task sometimes, or to be more precise, most of the time. Until your work is not known you make no profit, you need that first purchase that will bring in the rest and get the business rolling. Unfortunately you have not had that one first customer.

Yet.

It’s a sunny Saturday, as if your dad ordered the weather especially for the occasion. There has never been a barbeque with rain or cold before, your dad seems to have control over this as well. There’s endless food and drinks, several activities for children, since it’s a family friendly event and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, mixing and mingling.

You’re nursing a mojito you mixed yourself, so it’s generous in the alcohol department. Wearing a white sundress you’re trying to have a word with everyone you know and everyone you want to know. 

“Sweetheart!” You hear your father calling out and you spot him a few feet away, waving at you. “Come over here, I want to introduce someone to you!”

Excusing yourself from the conversation you slalom between the guests and reach your father under the oak tree that’s near the tiny pond in the middle of the backyard. Yes, your father has a pond in his backyard, as well as two pools, a jacuzzi and a whole ass greenhouse. He is just that extra.

“Hi daddy,” you smile, joining him as he places a hand to your back and gestures towards a man who is currently turned away.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to the man who will take my place in the future, my successor, if you’d like. This is Harry Styles. Harry, this is my only daughter, Y/N.”

Your body makes the realization faster than your mind. The man turns towards you, but by that moment you’ve already recognized the tattoos you’ve looked at in pictures more than you’d like to admit. Then you see his face and your stomach drops before your brain processes who you’re facing.

Harry stood you up on your first date two weeks ago and you thought you’d never see him, but fate decided to make a joke out of it, because now he is here, in the flesh, looking at you with a just as shocked expression as yours.

You both are quick to gain control back over your faces and Harry is the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, it’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” he clears his throat as he holds a hand out for you. For a short moment you think of just turning around and walking away, but you don’t want to cause a scene and have your father question your behavior, so instead, you shake his hand, the touch of his skin sending tingles down your spine as you let go of it in a bit of a hurry.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you,” you nod, but can’t hold back the spite in your voice. Luckily, your dad seems to be oblivious to the scene happening in front of him. 

“Remember that awfully long procedure we had to find the perfect person to take over after me? Harry was the only one to survive it and I knew we found our guy.”

Your dad pats him on the shoulder proudly and Harry smiles back at him, but you notice how tense he appears to be, most likely because of your presence. 

“Ah, he seems like a decent, reliable guy,” you add with a forced smile and you know he understands the meaning behind your words.

“He is!” you dad beams. “And Harry, this is my wonderful daughter, she graduated from CalArts, top of her class, she is an exceptional artist, you should see her work!”

He has seen your work. Well, virtually. Naturally, you talked about what you do and he asked you to send pictures and you did.

He loved them. Or at least that’s what he said. Now you question everything he wrote in his messages. 

“I’m sure she is… fantastic.”

The torture continues for a few more minutes before others join the three of you and you have a chance to slip away, which you grab without hesitation. 

It feels like all your blood is pumping in your head, you can’t tell if you’re shocked, angry or disappointed, most likely all of these together. Part of you wants to chug something strong to forget about it all, but then another part wants to read everything on him and tell him to fuck himself.

A tequila shot and some internal raging later you’re inside the house, it’s quiet, everyone is enjoying the weather outside, so you have a chance to settle your thoughts. With another mean cocktail in your hands you’re pacing back and forth in the spacious living room, your racing thoughts making it impossible to calm yourself. 

“Can I at least try to explain myself?”

The voice coming from the sliding door that leads out to the backyard makes you jump and when you turn around you spot Harry standing there, looking awfully good, but you’re way too angry at him to acknowledge it. 

“I don’t think I want to hear it.”

Out of frustration you can’t do anything else than drinking and avoiding to look at him, hoping he might disappear if you ignored him. Unfortunately, it’s not the case, he moves closer.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about standing you up. It was unacceptable, I know. I had a… um, I had a family situation and I didn’t have a chance to let you know I wouldn’t make it.”

“What situation?” you ask right away, and when he hesitates you know it’s all made up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t need your apology, you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me you wouldn’t come then, now you’re only apologizing because you were forced to meet me.”

“Y/N, it’s not… it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I think it’s very much what I think it is,” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine, but I thought you were mature enough to tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. I’m a big girl, I can take the rejection.”

“But I was interested, I still–” He cuts himself off, not sure if it’s fine to say that he is still into you in the situation you found yourself in. “Y/N, I didn’t want to hurt you. This… It’s not how I planned it. I’m sorry.”

You want to stay mad. You want to stand your ground and unleash all your rage at him, but… you can’t. He might have been bullshitting you about why he stood you up, but he truly seems like he feels bad. 

And he really looks way too good.

“Alright. Apology accepted.”

He looks visibly relieved, his shoulders ease and even a tiny smile appears on his lips.

“Thank you. Really. So… Do you want to have a drink now?” he chuckles, but the devilish smirk you flash at him scares him instantly.

“Oh, I said apology accepted. That doesn’t mean we’re fine and back at where we were.”

Before he could say anything or question what you said you walk away, leaving him in a blur. 

You only see him from afar a few times until the end of the barbeque, you catch him staring quite a few times as well and his looks reflect hunger, so you assume your looks definitely live up to his expectations after all. You miss when he leaves at the end, but you know it won’t be the last time you see each other. 

A plan is formed in your mind about how to teach him a lesson for standing you up. A little game, to be exact. 

Two days after the barbeque you have to meet your dad in his office and you definitely don’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with Harry. You go out of your way to change before heading to the office, wearing a tight, extra short black dress that will surely catch his attention.

With a stack of documents under your arm you stroll into the building as if you owned it. Well, for a while you were set to inherit the business, but when your father realized you’re more into art, he ditched his plans and started looking for his successor. You remember how nervous you were before sitting down with him and telling him you wouldn’t take over the company like he wanted you to. To your surprise, he took it well and you realized he just wants you to be happy, doing whatever your heart desires. 

As a side hustle, you still get involved in some part of the business, just to learn the basic ropes and gain skills you can use in other fields as well, so every once in a while you can be found in the office. Today is one of those days.

The girls behind the front desk smile at you warmly and let you pass by, heading straight up to your dad’s office on the top. Standing in the elevator you check your outfit, making sure it’s not too revealing, but will do the purpose you wore it for. It doesn’t look like you’re going clubbing, but the amount of leg you’re showing will definitely earn you Harry’s attention, just how you planned.

It’s like fate is playing on your side, when you’re approaching the office you spot Harry in there with your dad, a devilish smirk tugging on your lips as you finally reach the glass door, knocking on it gently. They both lift their head up, but the expressions they make are very different. 

While your dad seems happy to see you, gesturing for you to come in, Harry on the other hand seems… shocked to say the least. Most likely not because he is seeing you, but because of how you look. You catch his gaze wandering down your legs right away, his chest rising with a deep breath as you walk inside.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. I brought the documents you asked for.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, come in!” your dad waves around, rounding his desk to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks.

“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,” you smile at him charmingly, angling yourself so your legs are perfectly in his view. 

“It’s uh, it’s nice to see you as well, Y/N.” 

The blush on his cheeks is proof that your plan worked pretty well. While chatting with your dad, you keep an eye on Harry and see him practically devouring you with his eyes, his jaw clenches every time you move your weight to one leg and pop your hip out to the side. It’s safe to say he is a fan of your outfit.

“Alright, I better get going,” you sigh and start to pack your stuff when you drop your pen on purpose. The plan was to lean down and tease him even more, but he jumps to your rescue instantly, picking it up for you, but it gets his face to the same level as your thighs and he straightens up faster than the speed of light.

“Here,” he hands you the pen, obviously avoiding looking at you. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, making sure to brush your fingers against his hand as you take the pen from him. “Have a nice day.”

And with that, you stroll out of the office. 

Y/N one, Harry zero.

You don’t give him much time to recover from your appearance at the office. A few days later, on Friday, you decide to take advantage of your dad’s pool, which is one of the reasons you spend so much time at his. 

And of course because you love him. 

Today however, you have a different reason to parade in his backyard in the tiniest bikini you own. 

Your dad’s office has floor to ceiling windows watching over the glistening pool. Most of the time you try to avoid having a pool day when you know your dad is working from home, but Harry is here today, so that changes everything. 

You saw him arrive a few hours ago from your room’s window and they are still working, so when you’re done with your own business calls you decide it’s time to go for a swim. The neon pink bikini you chose was worn last time in Miami on spring break when you were still in college, a wild weekend you’ll never forget, but you’ve changed since then and it’s not really your style, but it will serve the purpose the best. To help your success you ‘ve also covered your body in tanning oil, making you glisten in the sun.

Putting on your sunglasses you grab a towel and tanning oil and head outside. 

It’s hot outside and you’re already planning to lie in the sun after a swim, the water glistening on your body. Putting on your best poker face you finally walk out and approach the pool. You know this place like the back of your hand, so you know exactly when you come into view from the office. Squaring your shoulders you keep your head high and walk up to one of the sunbeds, dropping your stuff down before striking a not too obvious pose as you put your hair up. Angling yourself just right, you catch a glimpse of what’s going inside and you need everything in you not to start grinning when you spot Harry not far from the window, staring at you like he is about to burst. Your dad is somewhere in the back on the phone, oblivious to the scene that’s happening so close to him. 

The second act starts when you grab the tanning oil and start applying it, rubbing it into your skin, making a show out of it. Oh, how you wish you could see Harry’s face up close, but you have a good guess what’s happening in his mind and it’s very pleasing.

First, you lie down to tan some, normally you cover your head with a towel because of the heat and not care about how you look, but this time you try your best to look as if you just jumped out of a Sports Illustrated catalog. 

Not long later it’s time to jump in the pool. You swim a few laps before emerging from the cold water and returning to your sunbed, all while imagining what could Harry be thinking right now. 

You’re still chilling in the sun when you hear the sliding door open and spot your dad walking out. For a moment you freeze, afraid he might tell you off for using the pool when he is working with someone in his office, but he seems delighted.

“Hey, I have to head out for a quick meeting, I’ll pick up lunch on my way home, want me to grab you something?”

“That would be great, thank you,” you smile at him peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.

“Harry is here, so don’t be surprised if you run into him. He’ll probably stay in the office.”

“Alright.”

With that he turns around and disappears in the garage. You hear the engine start and then he drives away, leaving you and Harry as the only people in the house. Not to make it obvious, you turn to look inside the office, but you’re surprised to see that Harry is not there anymore. Has he left the house as well? Did your plan not work after all?

It’s starting to get too hot outside and you didn’t bring anything to drink so you decide to give up and go inside. Heading into the kitchen all you can think about is a glass of cold lemonade.

Rummaging through the fridge you grab the bowl of fruit salad you made yesterday and brought over and as you’re balancing everything in your hands and pushing the fridge’s door closed with your hips, it scares you when you see Harry standing behind you by the kitchen island.

“Jesus, are you a fucking ninja? I didn’t hear you.”

Walking closer you set everything down to the island and pretend like your pulse is not over the roof. Not just because of the scare, but because he looks incredibly good. FItted pants and simple white shirt, the top few buttons are undone, showing a glimpse of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up, allowing you to check out his tattoos as well. God, if you weren’t trying to teach him a lesson you would be all over him already.

It makes you feel better though that he is definitely checking you out as well. He is not trying to mask it too much, his eyes keep wandering down your body that’s still only covered at the most crucial parts by your tiny swimwear.

“Having a day off?” he leisurely asks, hiding his hands in his pockets as he leans against the island next to you.

“Nope, my work is pretty flexible. I’m mostly my own boss.”

You see him nod from the corner of your eyes as you dig into the fruit salad, trying to act casual and ignore the fact that you’re in a hot pink bikini while he is dressed for work. 

“So how long are we going to play this?” he then asks out of the blue. 

You know exactly what he is talking about, but you won’t give in that easily. With your hands on your hips you turn to face him with an innocent look on your face and you don’t miss how his eyes snap down to your chest, then to your lips before they move back to your eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A tiny little smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks away, out to the terrace where the pool’s glistening surface is probably reminding him of the show you gave him not long ago.

“Is this supposed to be punishment?”

“Did you do something you deserve punishment for?” you tilt your head to the side. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but then decides against it, just stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind. He pushes himself away from the island and starts to walk away, you take it as your wind or this round, so you turn back to your snack, but then suddenly he moves back and cages you between his arms, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. He is behind you now, not even touching you anywhere, but still, it’s as if he was everywhere on your body. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his low voice in your ear.

“If you want to play, I’m happy to play along. But be careful, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

This should be the perfect moment for a clever remark, but your mind is so fogged up you can’t articulate one solid thought. He moves back and you feel his presence disappear from behind you before you see him walking back towards the office, but before he could disappear he shoots one last comment at you.

“Pink looks good on you!”

He did not joke when he said he would play along.

So far, only you’ve been playing this game, but since your little pool side performance, Harry has definitely turned it up on his side as well. 

He has been pretty subtle so far. The bastard has noticed that his tattoos make you droop, that you love to check out his backside whenever he is wearing fitted pants and those smirks… they make you weak in the knees every damn time. And he takes every opportunity to use these against you whenever you run into each other. 

You’ve been dropping by your dad’s office a lot more often than usually in hopes of seeing Harry and he’s been a frequent guest at your dad’s house as well. Stolen looks, tiny touches and never ending teasing have become your usual lately and you’ve been enjoying it way too much probably. 

It’s been pretty long since you had a crush and it’s an exciting change to have this little thing going on with Harry, whatever it really is. 

The major change is that you’ve started to text again. A few days after your encounter in your dad’s kitchen the flow started again and you’ve been talking ever since. It’s like before the failed date. 

Two weeks pass by and you realize it’s been only small little games, nothing extreme since your show at the pool. You’ve been trying to come up with a move that will leave him defeated and a shopping spree with Dani is what gives you the idea. 

She always makes you go lingerie shopping, she likes to surprise her boyfriend with new sets and while looking around you find one that catches your eyes and you end up buying it with the pure intention of making it part of your game. 

You’ve never been that big of a fan of fancy lingerie sets, but you do know it’s what you need to spice the game up. 

When you’re finally home you put on the quite revealing black set, fix your hair and even look up what poses are the best if you want to send racy pictures to your partner. Well, Harry is not your romantic partner, but definitely your partner in this game. 

You take quite a few pictures, some in the mirror, some with a timer, your camera roll turns into the newest issue of PlayBoy and it takes even more time for you to choose just one. When you finally settle on one it’s time for the fun part. Opening up the text threat with Harry, you send the photo and a few moments later a text.

Y/N: Sorry, meant to send it to someone else.

And then you just wait. 

For an hour your message stays unread, but then the status changes and your heart jumps into your throat. He saw the message eleven minutes ago, but there’s no response and it sends you down the rabbit hole.

Did your plan work? Is he fighting a major hard-on at the office? Or does he think your attempt to seduce him was ridiculous? Is he gonna lecture you about sending nudes? Why is he not responding???

Minutes turn into an hour and you’re losing hair at this point, regretting you even thought about sending him a spicy picture and you’re about to block his number, getting yourself ready to never see him again when your phone finally chimes with a message and Harry’s name appears in the notification.

HARRY: No. Shit like this can only be meant for me. I’m serious.

You gasp. Almost moan reading his words. And suddenly you forget about the madness you went through in the past hour. It was worth it, it was all worth it because this one message has lit you on fire. 

His message stunned you so much you didn’t even reply. What could be said after that? 

Got it, sir.

Or maybe…

Don’t tell me what to do.

Oh yeah, that would have really messed with him, but you chose silence and he didn’t double text you either. It stopped the flow of regular messages too and in the next three days you realize how much you miss him when you’re not talking. 

You’re falling for him and you hate that beside the little games, he is not taking the step you want him to. 

A few days after the picture was sent an old friend of yours comes to visit his family in the city and the two of you agree to catch up over dinner. Salim was your study buddy through college, he was always up to spend the entire day in the library whenever you had a theoretical exam to take. Art school wasn’t just painting and creating all the time, unfortunately. After graduation he moved to France with his boyfriend and has been living there for the past years, but he often comes home to visit his loved ones and he always makes time for you as well. You’ve been keeping in touch, but not as regularly as you used to and it’s great to talk when you’re not only in the same time zone but also in the same room. 

“Look at you! You’re glowing!” he greets you when you get out of the Uber and he wraps you in a tight hug. 

“Not as much as you! I see Claude is taking good care of you!” you chuckle, squeezing him back before letting go of each other. He looks stylish as always and you notice he’s starting to dress more and more like Claude, whose style is excellent, by the way. They fit each other really well.

You walk into the restaurant, it’s one of your favorite places and the host shows you your table. You order appetizers and drinks and dig into everything you haven’t discussed over the phone in the past couple of months. 

“Now, tell me about that Tinder guy you last mentioned,” Salim smirks at you over the table and you realize you never told him the whole story, just that you were going on a date with Harry. 

A lot has happened since then.

You update him about the failed date and the meeting at the barbeque and how you’ve been messing with each other since then. 

“You did what?” He almost chokes on his wine.

“I sent him a nude picture,” you repeat yourself with a coy smile. 

“You’re really brave, I would have never had the balls,” he snorts. 

“I needed to step my game up. But we’ve been stuck since then.”

“He’s too busy jerking off to your photo,” he chuckles.

“No,” you smile. “Maybe he is… here.”

Your eyes grow wide when you spot the all too familiar form of Harry by the bar and he is staring at you with a bewildered look that does things to you that you can’t exactly explain. 

“What?” Salim’s face forms a confused frown. 

“He is… literally here. At the bar and don’t turn around, but he is looking straight at us.”

Your body is reacting as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, but nothing like that is happening, so you’re not sure why your reaction is so intense. Luckily, discretion is no problem for Salim, so he turns to see Harry in a way that’s not too obvious. When he looks back at you his eyes are just as wide as yours.

“Holy shit, he really is hot!”

“I know!” you whisper, not sure what to do, because Harry is still very much staring at you. “Fuck, should I say hi?”

“No, let him come to you if he wants to!”

Nodding, you try your best to focus on the food and your friend in front of you, but it’s almost impossible when you can clearly see Harry over Salim’s shoulder. Either he keeps staring at you or you always catch him looking, doesn’t matter, because it makes your stomach drop every time your gaze meets his. 

Then your phone lights up with a text from him.

HARRY: I hope it’s not a date.

“Oh my God, he thinks we are on a date,” you whisper to Salim upon reading the text while keeping your face as straight as humanly possible. 

“Is he jealous?”

“Most likely,” you nod, typing your response.

Y/N: And what if it is?

His reply comes before you could even lock the phone.

HARRY: It better not be.

Y/N: So bossy. Unfortunately, you have no right to hold me back from dating.

“I think I stood my ground, but I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Placing the phone back to the table with screen down you’re determined to focus on Salim from now on, but it’s just impossible to move on from those texts. At some point however, Harry disappears from your view and you fight the urge to check your phone to see if he had any response.

While Salim is trying to decide if he wants some dessert or just another cocktail you excuse yourself to the restroom. It’s definitely been an emotional rollercoaster, not just your usual friendly catch-up, you’ll surely be thinking about it for a while. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you a foot sticks in and stops you and then everything happens so fast.

The door is forced open and you gasp as you take a step back and watch Harry walk in, close the door behind him and lock it as well. His eyes are burning as he looks at you and you’re just a speechless ragdoll as he pushes you against the cold, tiled wall, caging you between his arms, his hips pressing against yours.

“Who is he?” he hisses at you, his pupils dilated and wild and you’ve never seen him from this close, you’re basically breathing the same air.

“He’s…” You can’t speak or form any words, the air is pushed out of your lungs every time you try to fill them enough to give you the strength to speak up. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, but it’s making your pussy throb for sure.

“Answer me or I’ll go out and make a scene to find out.”

“He’s just a friend,” you manage to breathe out. 

“Are you fucking him?”

“No.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Salim would be more interested in fucking him than you, but the words die on your tongue when he exhales sharply at your answer.

“Fuck your little games, Y/N,” he then says, almost growls as he shakes his head in defeat. 

“Fuck me instead,” you hear yourself saying, but it’s as if it wasn’t you who spoke, yet you still said exactly what you had in your mind. 

HIs eyes are throwing flames again when one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, his thumb moving under your chin to tilt your head upwards, angling your head, but still just teasing you.

“No more games.”

“No,” you shake your head desperately. Your hands have found their way to his waist and you fist his shirt, fighting the urge to rip it off him.

“I mean it, Y/N. It’s all in or nothing. I want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

His kiss comes so fast your head goes dizzy for a second before you recover and return it just as eagerly as it came. It’s been the longest foreplay, weeks worth of teasing and yearning after each other end now as Harry’s body presses you against the wall with so much force it’s almost too much, but you want him as close as possible. 

Even though you’re certain you’ve lost your mind, your consciousness still knows you’re in a public bathroom and you have limited time. Harry knows too and he wastes no time moving you over to the counter, he hoists you up and sits you on top of the granite next to the sink. You gladly wrap your legs around his waist and lock him against you while his mouth is now exploring the curve of your neck and shoulders, desperately pushing the straps of your dress to the side to reach more of your skin. Your body is reacting instantly to him, your hips roll against him and you feel his bulge between your legs, a tortured moan slipping out of your mouth. 

“Harry!” you beg him, when his hand slips under your dress and into your underwear, his skilled fingers teasing you just right, but you need him fast and hard, this is not the time and place to play games.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” he grunts before playfully biting the soft skin on your neck while unbuckling his belt. “But I’m gonna fuck you fast and you’ll take it like the good little slut you are.”

All you can do is whine and force your legs further apart, watching him push his pants and underwear down in one motion, his cock springing free, ready to ruin you. Harry pushes your dress up your torso and hooks a finger into your panties, pushing the fabric to the side to reveal your drenched pussy. 

“Have you thought about me while touching yourself?” he asks, his other hand going to his cock, lazily tugging on it, precum dripping from the tip.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He jerks on his cock a few more times before spitting on it and pushing inside you without warning. A scream dies in your throat, because you bite into your own hand not to make too much noise, but he is definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, his erection is filling you up, stretching you like nothing and no one before.

“Don’t whine, I know you can take it,” he pants, his eyes rapidly switching between your face and his cock buried balls deep inside you. 

All you can do is nod before he starts moving. He gives you a few slow thrusts to adjust, but then he picks his pace up and starts slamming into you ruthlessly.

And you love every moment of it.

It’s so animalistic, so intoxicating, your head feels dizzy again and you need everything inside you not to start screaming his name. Normally you need more stimulation and time to feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, but it’s different with Harry. You can already feel your climax nearing.

“So fucking good, you take me so well,” he preaches you, his hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place and you curl an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss.

“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in that bar.”

His words reach your brain and you process what he said, but you can’t reply at that moment, because you’re already on the verge of your orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your climax, he is the first one but you chase after him just seconds later. It lasts long and he keeps thrusting into you even when it’s dying down. His face is buried in your neck when he finally stops and you both are panting heavily.

When he lifts his head he’s looking at you with hazy eyes, but the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me at the bar,” you repeat his words from earlier now that you can actually form words. Judging from the look on his face he knows why you’re questioning him.

You never met at the bar, he stood you up that night.

“I went there,” he admits. “I saw that other guy flirting with you and… I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. So I left.”

You’re staring back at him in disbelief. All this time you thought he didn’t come because you weren’t good enough for him, but it was the opposite. He was there. He came and wanted to meet you, but lost his confidence because of that random guy.

“You’re the only person who ever stood a chance with me,” you softly say as you reach up to take his face in your hands.

“I thought I was too old for you.”

“But I knew you were older all along,” you chuckle. “It was never an issue for me.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He kisses you softly and it’s mind-blowing how he was fucking you hard just moments ago and now he is treating you so gently.

“I need to go back, Salim will get suspicious,” you sigh as you slip off the counter, trying to fix yourself.

“Oh, your date is waiting for you,” he teases you, pulling his pants back up.

“He is gay, Harry,” you chuckle and watch his expression change.

“Okay, I approve.”

You laugh and pull him down for another kiss.

“Should we talk about this after?”

“I can come over when you get home.”

“I’m afraid we won’t do much talking if you do that,” you grin at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Promise, I’ll be a gentleman for at least thirty minutes. That should be enough for all the talking.”

“Uhuh, alright. See you at mine then,” you nod before slipping out of the bathroom.

The plates are empty, dinner is now officially nearing its end but you still haven’t broken the news to your dad. 

The news that you and Harry are together.

He is sitting across from you at the table, his hesitant eyes finding your gaze every other minute. He is shitting his pants, you know that, even though you told him your dad will probably take it well. He is not one to stress about such things, but Harry didn’t believe you, he thinks he’ll throw him out of the company and tell you to never see him again.

Absurd. 

Clearing your throat you decide it’s time for the announcement.

“Dad, I want to tell you something,” you speak up and panic flashes through Harry’s face for a moment, but he’s quick to mask it. 

“Alright, I’m listening,” he smiles at you.

“Okay, I’ll just… Um, I want you to know that I’ve been dating someone. It’s kind of… serious,” you add, your eyes finding Harry over the table and you don’t miss the blush on his cheeks. 

“That’s amazing! Do I know this person?” your dad enthuses.

“Well, you know him very well. He is actually sitting here at the table.”

You watch as realization washes over his face, he looks over at Harry and then back at you, while you both wait for his reaction.

Then a tiny smile appears on his face and you know you were right, there was nothing to worry about.

“That’s great news, I’m happy for you.”

Harry exhales in relief and you can’t help but laugh.

“See? I told you,” you smirk at him with a shrug.

“Are you sure you’re alright with it?” Harry asks, still a bit doubtful, but your dad just smiles at him warmly. 

“I’m more than sure, son. Why would I not be alright with it? I trust you with my company, I trust you with my daughter too. Easy as it is.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[summer-princess]

Far From Angry: Hardersson x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: You meet a stranger and her girlfriend at a bar. Things escalate quickly. 🔞Smut. Mdni.🔞 Pairing: Hardersson x Reader Warnings: Threesome, fingering, strap-ons, dirty talk Disclaimer: Obviously fiction. Words: 2806 Notes: Thanks to @acornsquish for pointing out a little error in the previous part! Read Pt. 1 here

“I think she needs your cock, Magda.”

Magda turned her attention to you, raising her sculpted eyebrows. 

“Is that true, baby? You need my cock?”

You nodded, eyes pleading as you looked back at her. You could see her tongue as she spoke, the same one that had just nearly brought you over the edge, flicking across her lower lip as she considered the situation, imagining the gorgeous sight that would be you, impaled on her cock, taking everything she wanted to give you. 

Pernille, still seated beside you, leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. The older woman’s mouth, tender and dirty at the same time, was enough to distract you while Magda crossed the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a thick beige toy and the corresponding harness. As Pernille devoured your mouth, one of her hands splayed possessively across your chest, her girlfriend stepped into the harness, tightening the cinches.

“Don’t worry, lovely,” cooed Pernille, pulling back only millimeters to whisper against your skin, your hips rocking of their own accord against the air between your legs, your need for more beyond obvious. 

“Don’t worry. Magda’s going to fill you up.” 

They didn’t notice the way your eyes widened until Magda was back on the bed, Pernille pulling away from your head so that you could see her partner, hand stroking erotically up and down the sizeable strap between her legs, covering it with lube.

“What’s wrong, pretty thing?”

Pernille looked down at you, concern clouding the arousal in her eyes.

“I… It…”

Your eyes were locked on the strap hanging between Magda’s legs, a good inch longer and at least a half of a finger-width thicker than anything you’d taken in the past. You were pretty sure you could take it, but the task still felt more than a little daunting. 

Luckily, Pernille was once again able to easily interpret your fragmented thoughts, realization hitting as she followed your gaze.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed soothingly, her thumb still rubbing circles around your swollen clit. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you take it. Would it help if you took my fingers first?”

Scarlet, you nodded, the sweetness saturating her voice somehow making the words even filthier. 

“Mmm,” she groaned, exchanging a hungry grin with Magda, one that made you shudder. 

“Even after Magda licked you so nicely, you still need more before you’re ready to take her. That’s okay, pretty girl, just keep your legs open for me.”

You whined, the idea of closing your legs all but unimaginable. 

Settling herself between your thighs, Pernille took a moment to appreciate the sight before her. If she’d thought you looked pretty back in the bar, that was nothing compared to how you looked now, pussy glistening with your own arousal, legs spread shamelessly wide. Swiping two fingers through your arousal, gathering it on her fingers to ease their entry, Pernille pressed her digits against your tight opening, working her way in past the second knuckle. She grunted softly as your heat welcomed her inside, beginning to move her fingers before you were even able to register fully that she had entered you.

You moaned as the older woman buried her fingers inside your pussy and began to gently fuck you open, the slight stretch intensifying your pleasure. Pernille’s fingers were thin and nimble, able to locate your most sensitive spots with very little effort. The blonde smirked, taking note of your happy little whimpers as her fingers worked in and out, each thrust a little deeper, bringing you closer and closer to being able to take Magda comfortably.

“Taking her fingers so well,” Magda praised you, settling in to lie beside you where Pernille had been moments earlier, strap hanging from her hips, awaiting its chance to be used. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead as you turned your head towards her voice. Her breasts were tantalizingly close to you and, without stopping to think about what you were doing, you closed your lips around the nearest nipple. Sloppily, the peak stubbornly refusing to stay still as she sucked in a sharp breath, you mouthed at Magda’s nipples, your tongue swirling patternless motions across the sensitive flesh. With a groan, she tangled her hand in your hair and used it to pull you closer, keeping your mouth on her chest.

“Fuck,” came Pernille’s voice from between your legs where, in the midst of your distraction, she had managed to slip a third finger inside of you. 

“Babe, she’s clenching around my fingers. I think she likes it when you pull her hair.”

These women were going to drive you insane, you thought to yourself as Magda grinned, confirming Pernille’s theory with a sharp tug to your hair, pricks of pain throbbing in your scalp and making you moan into her skin, cunt locking down around Pernille’s fingers as they curled, stroking your sensitive walls, stretching you out.

You had no idea how long you lay there, rocking back against Pernille’s fingers as she worked them deeper and deeper, stretching you out, your lips locked around Magda’s nipples. The rhythm was both arousing and comforting, and you whined at the loss when Pernille, deeming you sufficiently prepared, slid her fingers free.

The loss of Magda’s breasts under your tongue was nearly as distressing, and the older woman made sure to press a comforting kiss to your swollen lips before she switched her position.

“Don’t you worry, I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty girl,” said Magda soothingly, taking Pernille’s place between your legs and rubbing the blunt head of her strap against your soaked pussy. You whined, nodding desperately- after taking Pernille’s fingers, you felt so empty, and all you wanted now was to be filled by them again. 

“So eager,” she crooned, holding your hips still as she slid inside, inch by inch. 

The toy was still a bit of a tight fit, and you had to suck in a quick breath as it stretched you out, your soaking cunt stretching to take it. Pernille patted you gently, encouragingly, on your side as she watched, enraptured. Her fingers, still wet with your arousal, prodded at your lips. Indulgently, grateful for the distraction, you opened your mouth wide and let the other slip them inside, immediately beginning to work them with your tongue, sucking them as you would a cock while Magda continued to move until she was fully seated inside your cunt.

“Good job,” Magda crooned, rewarding you with a gentle rub to your swollen clit. It had taken every ounce of self control she possessed to not start thrusting as soon as she had worked herself inside, wanting desperately to see how your hole contracted around her cock. Her gentle flicks to your bundle of nerves made you whine around Pernille’s fingers in your mouth, eyelashes fluttering. 

She only started thrusting once you wriggled on her cock, wordlessly pleading for her to take you. She rocked her hips gently, and the wrecked noise you made, barely audible in the face of Pernille fucking the remnants of your own arousal into your throat, could have almost made her come on the spot.

“Fuck,” cursed Magda as you clenched around her strap, trying to pull her further in. 

“Fuck, she’s still so tight.”

“She can take it,” said Pernille as if you weren’t even there, fingers still fucking the taste of your own pussy down your throat, relishing the little whines that managed to escape around her digits to fill the bedroom.

“You should have felt how her cunt was begging while I was fucking her with my fingers. She has such a slutty little pussy, Mags, she needs you to fuck it. Don’t you, honey?”

You nodded desperately, trying to make your agreement clear despite the fact that Pernille’s fingers were still pressed between your lips. The message must have been received, because the next thing you knew, Magda was dragging her cock carefully back, then rolling her hips and thrusting forward, the toy attached to her hips spearing your needy cunt and wrenching another muffled moan from between your lips. 

Her first few thrusts were experimental, but as she locked her eyes on the enticing sight of the beige strap emerging from your cunt, covered with your juices, she couldn’t help herself.

“Good girl,” praised Magda, thrusts speeding up as you whined in pleasure. “Taking it so good, baby.”

“So filthy,” added Pernille, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “Such a dirty girl, letting Magda fill you up with her cock. Our dirty girl.”

The words made you flush even deeper, but they also filled you with a sense of pride- when you had first seen the strap on, you had been apprehensive, but now the toy was slamming in and out of you at a moderate pace, the older woman claiming your pussy for her own.

“Please,” you whimpered as Pernille finally freed her fingers from your throat. “Need it harder.”

Magda seemed all too happy to oblige, if the low moan that came from between her lips was any indication. You hadn’t quite picked up on it yet, but the strap she was using to fuck you included a vibrator, one which was steadily buzzing against her clit, spurring her onwards. 

“Oh,” said Pernille. “She needs it harder, Magda. She needs you to fuck her even harder, she’s that desperate.”

Magda chuckled.

“Hmm,” she murmured, thrusts tapering off as she pretended to consider your desperate plea. You locked your eyes on hers, pupils blown wide in desperation. When she resumed her motion, surrendering quickly enough to keep you from getting fussy, you kept your gaze locked on her body.

The older woman looked like a goddess, muscles rippling as she thrust into you. Her blue eyes were dark as she glanced back and forth between you, tits bouncing with the motion of her thrusts, and Pernille, who had started rubbing neat circles on her own swollen clit.

“Turn over.”

The sudden command had barely registered in your mind before she repeated it, combined with another little slap to your thigh. You obeyed, Magda pulling out momentarily so you could go to your hands and knees before thrusting back into your needy pussy, gripping your hips hard enough that you knew there would be a bruise in the morning.

You realized why you were in this new position when you caught sight of Pernille, leaning against the headboard with a pillow behind her back, legs spread. 

“Gonna use your mouth on me like a good girl?”

Her accent was stronger as she bit back a moan, the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips adding to her arousal. 

In response, you dove in without hesitation, finding her clit and flicking your tongue, lavishing the swollen bud with attention. One of her hands tangled in your hair, tugging at it as she guided you, hips jutting up into your touch. You tried to pay attention to what made her grip tighten, muscles seizing up in pleasure, wanting to make her feel just as good as you felt. 

You lost yourself in the pleasurable rhythm, Magda’s thrusts deep inside your cunt and her fingers rubbing your clit as you devoured Pernille’s wetness. You were surrounded by her, her muscular thighs on either side of your face, your breaths restricted by her pussy against your mouth.

Not that you minded.

You could feel yourself drawing closer to your peak as you lapped at Pernille, unaware of anything outside the taste of the older woman’s pussy on your talented tongue and the way her swollen clit twitched against it, the sounds of her moans harmonizing with your own, and with the sound of Magda’s hips slapping against yours as she drove her strap deeper and deeper inside your welcoming cunt.  

“You getting close, honey?”

Magda’s tone was sweet even as her thrusts retained their rhythm, deep and long and all-consuming. You couldn’t tell if she was talking to you or Pernille, but your head rocked up and down anyway, your nose bumping against Pernille’s clit as you nodded desperately.

“Yes! Fuck!”

“What do you say?” 

The hand holding you between spread legs now jerked you upward, forcing you to look at Pernille as she spoke, harsher than the sugary sweet tone her partner’s words had held before. When you didn’t answer, only moaning as Magda’s thrusts brought you right to the edge of the cliff, her other hand reached out and grabbed your chin, squeezing it tightly.

“What do good girls say,” she asked. “When they need to come?”

“Please,” you whined, licking the taste of Pernille off your lips as you struggled to hold back the tide, threatening to break the levees at any instant. “Please, let me come! I need to come!”

“What do you think, Magda? Should we let her come?”

Magda’s fingers, still rubbing maddening circles over your swollen clit, didn’t pause as she considered. You were nearly insensible on your hands and knees, bundle of nerves twitching beneath her touch as you tried desperately to hold back your orgasm, wanting to wait until you were granted permission. 

“Mm, fuck. I think she needs it, baby. Don’t you? I mean, the way this cunt is clamped on my cock I’d be surprised if she lasted another thirty seconds.”

As soon as Pernille released your chin, pausing to consider Magda’s opinion, it gave you free reign to continue licking at her, straining to try and reach the same spots that had made her moan the loudest. 

It was the pleasure building in her own core more than anything that made the decision for the lighter blonde as she admired the sight of you, licking at her like a starving woman.

“Okay then. Come for us, like the desperate little thing that you are.” 

Permission granted, your body wasted no time before seizing up in orgasm, the powerful waves of pleasure slamming into like a truck. You cried out, some combination of the two women’s names and nonsensical gibberish falling from between your swollen lips. 

As you crashed over the edge, the ecstatic moans were lost in Pernille’s pussy as she spasmed, coming apart against your tongue. You lapped desperately at her, trying to gather as much of her flavor on your tongue as you could while Magda’s hips continued to thrust into your needy pussy.

The older woman’s movements were almost involuntary as she rode out her own orgasm, the sight of her girlfriend coming on your tongue combined with the low buzzing of the attached vibrator finally enough to send her over the edge. The continued movement of the strap dragging along your sensitive walls extended your own climax, your brain unable to focus on anything except the pleasure in between your legs, how Pernille’s hips were still moving, covering your face in her slick. The hand not grasping your leg tightly enough to bruise continued drawing erratic circles on your abused clit. 

After a blissful eternity, your pleased whimpers turned to whines of discomfort, nerves overstimulated with how hard you’d come. With a chuckle and a pat to your flank that made you wonder, just for a moment, if you were truly that tired, Magda slid her strap out of your sopping pussy, quickly unbuckling her harness and setting both toys aside to be seen to later. Pernille’s soft hands stroked through hair, messy from where she’d tugged on it, and pulled the covers over the two of you.

With Pernille silent and Magda slipping quietly from the room, presumably on a quest for a warm washcloth or a bottle of water, the heavy realization dawned on you- now that you were done, they would probably send you packing.

The thought of walking home in the dark, especially with how warm and cozy you felt in Magda and Pernille’s bed, made you want to cry, but there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

“Hey,” said Pernille, reaching out for you as you started to push the covers off of yourself, swinging one leg over the side of the bed and leaving it hovering an inch above the floor. “Where are you going?”

“H-Home?”

“No, you’re not. Stay here tonight,” said Magda as she re-entered the room, and your fucked-out pussy twitched in interest at the tone, one which demanded acquiescence. Not that you were going to protest. Obediently, gratefully, you flopped back onto the pillows and accepted the water bottle that she offered, taking two long sips. 

Magda climbed back into the bed and, their bodies warm on either side of you, you let yourself sink into the pillows. One of the women chuckled quietly, but you didn’t care which or why. 

All you cared about was drifting off to sleep, snuggled in between the pair. 

[ashwhowrites]

Hello! you can do one with older!eddie where he doesn't know how to use his cell phone much, so he and reader are having sex and he is filming it (with her consent, obviously) and then he will send her the video so she can too has, he ends up sending it to someone else. 🫣

This is actually hilarious. Just a small smutty and fun blurb

Sex Tape

"Pretty girl, look at you taking me so well." Eddie moaned, pointing his phone camera at her cunt. He loved seeing her cunt take him in and clenching around him.

"Daddy, cock is so big. Filling me up." Y/N moaned, Eddie's flashlight shining, giving her the perfect lighting to see Eddie's cock pushing in and out of her.

When Eddie asked to record them having sex, she wasn't against it. She thought it would be hot. Their sex tape was at the touch of her fingertips to watch whenever she wanted.

He moved the camera up, focusing on her tits as they bounced, his free hand moved up to twist her nipples. Her loud moan travels straight through the microphone.

"Such a slut. Letting Daddy record you as you get fucked. Nasty girl, probably would love for everyone to see it, huh? Show everyone just how pathetic you get for me." She felt herself getting close to his words.

Her hands reach to touch his hairy chest and toned stomach. Her nails scratched down his happy trail, moaning as her wetness soaked his pubic hair.

"Look at how fucking soaked you are." He teased, moving the camera down to her cunt. Bringing the camera as close as he could, the wetness loud as he fucked her harder. Her wetness shined from his flashlight, showing how soaked his red cock was.

"Daddy, please make me cum. Please." She begged, grabbing his hand from her chest to move it down to her clit.

"Good girl." He praised, rubbing her clit as he focused the camera. He wanted to record the second she came all over him.

"DADDY!" She screamed, her thighs shaking as she came all over him. Eddie fucked her through it, praising her as he leaned down to kiss her. The camera was a lost thought as he came inside of her. He growled into her mouth, both his hands gripping her hips as he fucked himself empty into her.

After they took a second to catch up on their breathing, Eddie cleaned her up. Small pecks to her face as he settled next to her. He reached over to grab the phone, ending the recording.

"Let me do it, baby. You still aren't the best with technology." Y/N explained she loved dating an older man, but his knowledge of technology was low.

"I can do it!" Eddie argued, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at all the options when he clicked share.

He groaned as the phone took forever to load, "patience baby, takes a while to send that long of a video." Y/N told him.

"Then what's the point of paying so much for a fucking phone that can't load?" Eddie argued, Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes.

"We've had this argument when you bought it." She teased.

"Well sorry! I mean what was wrong with flip phones? Now I have all this touch screen shit and accidentally hit the wrong shit all the time." Eddie said, pounding at his phone.

"Leave it alone! The more you click the more it'll freeze!"

Eddie ignored her and continued to smack the screen, the little sound of a swoop.

"It sent! Don't touch it." Y/N said, reaching for her phone. But she was confused when she didn't have any modifications.

She grabbed his phone from his hand, ignoring his huff.

"EDWARD! YOU SENT IT TO CARL!" She screamed, sitting up as she frankly typed on the screen.

"MY BOSS?"

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 4

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Our girls go on a lovely date and there's lots of gay tension.

content warnings: none

word count: 3.7k+

masterlist

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Kate’s eyes are curious, roaming over Wanda like she’s looking for an answer to the flush on her cheeks and the small smile she keeps trying to stifle. Her brown eyes meet Wanda’s, a silent question in them as the redhead walks up to the group. 

“Hey, you guys,” Wanda says, feeling her blush return when both Vision and Paul look up. “I’m going to head back a little later, but thank you for helping with this photoshoot.”

Vision blushes hotly and stutters as he mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a thank you while Paul just smiles widely at her, his hands moving quickly as he dismantles a tripod. Kate fixes her with a look, before her hand is tight around her upper arm and dragging her towards the corner of the room. 

The feeling of Ms. Romanoff’s eyes on them settle underneath Wanda’s skin, the comfortable weight of those dark green irises causing her heart to pound. She’s acutely aware of the older woman’s gaze, but valiantly directs her focus toward Kate’s imploring gaze.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re staying here?” Kate asks, scoffing at Wanda’s attempt to feign confusion. “You hate big cities, Wands. Does this have something to do with Ms. I'm-Super-Hot-And-Intimidating over there?”

“Okay, maybe,” Wanda relents, her head snapping up as she processes. “Wait, what did you just call her?”

Kate waves her off, “That’s not important right now. What on earth did Ms. Romanoff say to get you to stay longer?”

“Oh,” Wanda flushes, risking a glance over at the woman. Ms. Romanoff’s green eyes stare intently back at her, the woman’s posture relaxed even as she crosses her arms, those forearms standing out and taking Wanda’s attention away from the conversation at hand. She coughs slightly, turning back to Kate, who regards her with an unamused look.

“She sort of, kind of… asked me out for coffee?”

“Oh my fucking god, Wanda.”

In retrospect, Wanda supposed that was kind of a big deal. After all, from her hours of research on the woman, she couldn’t ever recall Ms. Romanoff ever publicly dating anyone. Obviously the woman was extremely selective in every aspect of her life, given her all-blonde staff and art pieces she’s selected for her office. Wanda wondered what she had that appealed to the woman. 

Shaking off the self-deprecating thoughts that rose around her, Wanda looked back at Kate with a pleading expression. “Please don’t make this a big deal, I'm just… trying something new and putting myself out there.”

Kate’s incredulous look morphed into one of understanding, and she nodded slightly as a spark appeared in her eyes. 

“Alright, but I expect a full debrief when you get back home.” She started walking towards the boys again, pushing Wanda towards the CEO waiting for her near the door. “And that includes every detail, especially if you guys make out.”

Wanda doesn’t have time to berate her, the brunette quickly walking away while simultaneously shoving her further toward the door. She quickly steels herself, taking a shuddering breath and forcing her nerves down until they weren’t a pit on her stomach. 

She could do this. It was just a date, and Wanda had been on dates before. All those dates had been spectacular failures, of course. But, she knew what to expect and what sort of etiquette was appropriate. Plus, she could be cool and interesting when she wanted to be. 

Looking up Wanda made eye contact with Ms. Romanoff again, and stumbled slightly as her gait was thrown off. Yeah, she was really selling the ‘cool’ part of her new act.

Fuck that, Wanda was going to be herself. Obviously it had already started to work on the older woman, and what more did she have to lose?

“Hi,” Wanda says once she’s an arms-length distance from the woman, her voice softer than she’d intended. 

“Hello,” Ms. Romanoff replies, her tone laced with amusement. “Are you ready for our date?”

Flushing Wanda lets herself smile as a giddy feeling rises within her. Hearing the other woman confirm that this was, in fact, a date made her unreasonably happy. “Yes, let's grab coffee, I need some caffeine.”

“As do I.” The comment is casual, but Wanda can sense the undercurrent of warmth beneath it. It’s so different from the cold, detached manner in which Ms. Romanoff had spoken to her friends. This tone is friendly and bordering on familiarity. Wanda immediately wants to hear more of it. 

They walk to the elevator in an anticipatory silence, Wanda trying to come up with something to ask the woman that wasn’t completely lame. Honestly, it’s not like she could just ask the woman what her favorite color was, that was so… pedestrian. 

Wait. Why couldn’t she ask? Because she thought Ms. Romanoff would think her childish or immature for asking such a simple question? Wanda had only been around the woman for a total of around 45 minutes, but she knew the woman wasn’t one to judge on something so simple. 

“So, what’s your favorite color?”

Ms. Romanoff pauses, her fingers inches from the elevator button. She seems to shake herself, pressing the button before turning her body towards Wanda, regarding her intently. Wanda feels herself flush, sure that she’s just made a mistake, but holds the woman’s gaze resolutely. 

“Nobody has ever asked me that,” she says, her dark green eyes searching Wanda’s for a moment. Then, she smiles softly. It’s genuine and small, but Wanda’s heart swells at the sight of it gracing her lips. 

“My favorite color is burgundy, a darker shade of red.” 

“Mine is Carmine, a bit lighter in shades, but still red,” Wanda responds, smiling at the wonder in Natasha’s eyes. 

“Well, what a happy coincidence. We’ll never fight over color palettes,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes sparkling. 

Chuckling, Wanda nods. “I’m a fan of dark, earthy tones. If you couldn’t tell from my wardrobe.” She gestures towards her outfit, and Ms. Romanoff’s eyes travel down her green shirt and dark brown pants. They linger for just a second too long to be friendly, and Wanda doesn't find herself minding all that much. 

“I’m also a fan of a darker color palette, if you couldn’t tell from my office.” Those dark green eyes are shining with amusement, and Wanda just smirks as she remembers the muted tone of black and white. 

“We can work on adding some variety to your workspace,” Wanda counters, and a delighted look springs into the CEO’s eyes at the light-hearted jab. 

Those delicious, dark-red stained lips open to counter, but the elevator chooses that exact moment to arrive. The echoing ding startles Wanda, and she blinks as the doors open. 

Inside the elevator, a couple springs apart, their lips puffy and eyes wide. The girl’s face is flushed, and the young man next to her has mussed hair and his hands in front of his body, attempting to conceal his reaction to the obviously passionate make-out session they’d stumbled upon.

“After you,” Ms. Romanoff smirks and gestures with her hand, and Wanda flushes at the manners as she steps into the elevator. As the older woman moves into the small space after her, Wanda bites her lip at the smell of cinnamon wafting over her. There isn’t much room with the other couple, and she feels warmth spread throughout her entire body as Ms. Romanoff’s shoulder presses against hers. 

The air is still, the atmosphere awkwardly silent. The other couple stares guilty at the floor, and when Wanda risks a glance to her right, Ms. Romanoff has a hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. Unfortunately, the hotel the rich CEO picked doesn't play trashy elevator music, so they descend the floors to the tune of embarrassed silence and smooth jazz. 

Wanda struggles to keep a straight face and breathes a sigh of relief as the doors open on the ground floor. To her surprise, Ms. Romanoff takes her hand, lacing her cool fingers with Wanda’s. Pulling her with her, she strides confidently out towards the front door. 

“What is it with elevators,” The woman remarks in that low, raspy voice of hers, seemingly oblivious to Wanda’s stunned silence. She can feel her heartbeat racing, warmth flooding through her from where Ms. Romanoff’s hand is clasped against her own. The suppressed giggles of the couple sound out from behind them, but Wanda pays them no mind. 

Truly, the most attractive thing about Ms. Romanoff is her quiet, self-assured confidence. Wanda admires the way she walks with her head high, her words sharp but not unkind. She expects the best and doesn't accept any less, and Wanda once again wonders where she fits into the puzzle of the woman’s life. 

Outside, the sun is shining, a cool breeze making its way through Wanda’s hair as Ms. Romanoff gently pulls her towards the sidewalk. They walk for a bit, chatting about specific shades that make up the perfect color palette, when Wanda realizes something. 

No one has ever held Wanda’s hand, not like this. Ms. Romanoff hasn’t made any moves to remove her fingers, lacing them with Wanda’s as if it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world. Wanda feels lightheaded with giddiness. 

Is this what it feels like to be with someone who’s not ashamed or afraid to show her off?

They reach the coffee shop, and Ms. Romanoff slowly removes her hand from Wanda’s as she opens the door. She holds it open, and Wanda marvels once again at her impeccable manners as she’s ushered through the door. 

Stopping a few feet away from the start of the line, Wanda looks around as she attempts to gain her bearings. The coffee shop is large, the menu expansive and the music low as the sound of low voices fills the espresso-scented air. 

Ms. Romanoff stops just behind her and Wanda shudders involuntarily at the feeling of the woman pressing against her gently. 

“Why don’t you go find us a seat and I’ll order. What would you like?” 

Holy fuck. 

The sound of the CEO’s low words send a shiver down Wanda’s spine, an unknown feeling pooling in her gut. She can feel warm breath hitting her ear as the woman speaks, and knows that if she were to turn her head, those tempting lips would be mere inches from her face. God, she wants to turn her head, to see if the woman behind her would get just as flustered as she is at the sight of her lips close to hers. 

Wanda turns her head, hearing a sharp intake of breath as her eyes find Ms. Romanoff’s. The woman’s body has gone rigid, her eyes locked on Wanda’s lips for a second too long to be a mistake. Then, slowly, she drags her gaze up towards Wanda’s. It’s purposeful and intent, the heat of those eyes sending flashes of electricity shooting straight to Wanda’s core. 

Suddenly remembering the question she’d just been asked, Wanda speaks, keeping her voice low. This moment feels too personal, too… intimate to ruin.

“I’d like an iced chai with vanilla, please.” 

“A wonderful order,” Ms. Romanoff remarks, her eyes glancing down again, catching Wanda doing the same thing. Her smirk widens. “I’m partial to a hot mocha with cinnamon powder, myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wanda murmurs, before she takes a deep breath and brushes her hand against the older woman’s waist. It’s light, her fingers barely applying any pressure, but the daring move has Ms. Romanoff’s eyes darkening and her tongue darting out to wetten those tantalizing lips. 

Leaning in slightly, Wanda hears the CEO’s breath hitch slightly. “I’ll go find us a seat.”

Pulling away, Wanda registers the shocked look on Ms. Romanoff’s face and grins to herself as she finds a quiet table near the window. She watches the woman from under her lashes, taking in the confident stance and light flush on her cheeks. A part of Wanda feels immensely proud that she was the one who caused that sort of reaction to the well-put-together woman. 

She wants to find every crack in that perfect facade and reveal them until Ms. Romanoff’s truest self is revealed, and she’s found one way to do so. Who knew that the woman was so thrown off by a little teasing? 

Wanda muses that Ms. Romanoff probably doesn’t expect teasing in return, given that most of the advances made so far between them have been made exclusively by the older woman. She’s deep in thought when a cup is placed before her, the comforting scent of chai reaching her nose as she blinks in surprise.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Flushing, Wanda racks her brain for an appropriate response. She couldn’t very well say, oh I was just thinking about if you would moan if I squeezed your hip, or if you get flustered when your bottom lip is bitten, or if you’re as controlling in the bedroom as you are in real life. She couldn’t say that, so instead she made something up. 

“I was wondering what type of perfume you wear.”

“Oh?” Ms. Romanoff gracefully takes her seat, raising a single eyebrow at her. It’s a silent command to continue, and Wanda chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to accidentally offend the woman. 

“You smell like cinnamon, which isn’t a common perfume scent,” Wanda begins, noticing the way Ms. Romanoff sits back in her chair as she regards her with interest. “So I was thinking about what sort of perfume you wear.”

“And did you come to a conclusion?”

“I did not.”

Ms. Romanoff hums in response, smiling as she sips her mocha. She doesn’t offer an answer, and Wanda doesn’t ask further. She’ll let the woman keep her secrets for now. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Wait. What?

“Who?” Wanda asks, confused. 

“The photographer.”

Ms. Romanoff’s relaxed pose tells a story of indifference, but the tenseness on her face and the way her eyes search Wanda’s tell a completely different tale. 

“Vision?” Wanda shakes her head, sipping her chai as she scoffs. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I sense derision.”

“Well, he’d like to be my boyfriend,” Wanda explains. “But I don’t…”

There’s a moment of silence, and Ms. Romanoff leans forward. Her attention is solely focused on Wanda, but instead of intimidated, she feels rather comforted. 

“You don’t, what?” The words are gentle, and Wanda takes another sip of her chai while blushing. 

“I don’t like him that way,” she finally says. It’s not the answer she really wanted to give, but it’s the one she feels comfortable saying. Ms. Romanoff nods once, understanding dawning on her features. She seems satisfied with Wanda’s response and doesn’t inquire anymore about Vision and his obvious crush on her. 

“How do you feel about me?” Ms. Romanoff asks, and Wanda nearly chokes on her drink. She hadn’t expected such a straightforward question, but after looking at the serious expression on Ms. Romanoff’s face, she decides to match the woman’s brutal honesty.

“I find you intimidating,” Wanda says, before she flushes and gazes intently at the lid of her chai cup. This cafe uses a strawless lid, one with an extra-wide mouth. She supposes they’re probably doing it for the sake of the environment. 

“You should,” Ms. Romanoff replies. “I appreciate the honesty, but please, don’t look away when I’m speaking to you. I like to see your face.” 

“I- you… like to see my face?”

“You have a wide range of expressions, it’s cute,” Ms. Romanoff smirks, her eyes glancing pointedly at Wanda’s reddening cheeks. “You’re a mystery to me, Wanda.”

“Oh?” Wanda asks, curious. She leans forward, “How am I the mystery between the two of us?”

Ms. Romanoff smiles at that, setting her drink on the table between them as she tilts her head. “You’re self-contained, you only show the world what you think it wants to see, not what you truly are.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Ah yes, but the difference between the two of us is that I’m a well-known public figure. Having an air of aloofness and mystery is essentially part of the job description. You, however, have the freedom to be whoever you want to be, to interact with the world however you choose. And yet, you remain private.”

Wanda blinks at the assessment, and Ms. Romanoff leans back in a manner that could be read as smug, if not for the gentle smile on her face. 

“Do you offer up personal observations like that?” 

“Are you offended?”

“No,” Wanda says slowly, considering what she was about to say. “But I have an observation of my own.”

There’s a spark of interest, and a bit of challenge in Ms. Romanoff’s dark green eyes. “Go on.”

“You like control.”

“I do,” she nods, “I exercise control in every aspect of my life, Wanda.”

“Including the part where you haven’t offered to let me call you by your first name?”

“Exactly.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is far too smug for Wanda’s liking. God, the audacity of this woman. Everything about her screamed that she was in control of this conversation. Why did Wanda find that so hot?

The refusal to let Wanda call her by her first name was just another element of her control. Another way to show Wanda that they were not yet on the same playing field. And honestly, Wanda would’ve cared more if she didn’t find the power dynamic so appealing.

“What does your sister do?” Wanda asks, and judging by the way Ms. Romanoff’s eyebrows fly up, the woman is caught extremely off guard. Ha. Take that, Wanda can ask invasive questions too.

“She teaches a professional martial arts class in New York.” The response is clipped, short. Evidently, Ms. Romanoff isn’t pleased with the personal change of topic. 

“I’ve always wanted to visit New York,” Wanda says, and interest sparks in those green eyes across from hers, any signs of earlier irritation long gone. 

“It’s beautiful, especially in the fall.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, with Wanda eyeing the long fingers on Ms. Romanoff’s hand as it rests near the center of the small table. It would be so easy to reach over and rest her hand next to it, but Wanda’s never been that bold. So instead, she sits and sips her chai and wishes she had to bravery to grab Ms. Romanoff’s hand the same way the woman had in the elevator. 

As chat about lighter topics, Wanda notices that Ms. Romanoff’s knee is slowly pressing against hers underneath the table. She’s in the middle of talking about her finals when she first notices it, her words halting for a brief moment before Ms. Romanoff tilts her head slightly, prompting her to continue. 

It’s infuriating, and Wanda tries to suppress the heat that coils in her stomach with each passing second as she feels the pressure of Ms. Romanoff’s steady knee increase. It’s comforting, it’s arousing, and it’s throwing Wanda off balance. 

Well, Wanda can give the same energy right back. 

“So do you have a girlfriend?”

It doesn’t work. Ms. Romanoff remains as cool and collected as ever, the only evidence of surprise shown by her raised eyebrow. 

“If I was in a relationship, I would not have asked you out on a date, Ms. Maximoff.”

“So this is an official date?”

“It is.” Ms. Romanoff’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and Wanda smiles slightly.

“Just making sure,” she mumbles, finishing her chai. “Did it go well? Did I pass the test?”

“What test?”

To her credit, Ms. Romanoff sounds genuinely confused. Wanda immediately wishes she could take it back, but instead lets her mouth start talking without thinking. 

“I just meant… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been trying to pass some sort of test to be worthy of your presence ever since the interview.”

“Well,” dark green eyes find hers, shining with sincerity. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. I am genuinely interested in you, Ms. Maximoff. I want us to be on an even playing field as we get to know each other, hence this public coffee shop.”

“Oh.” Wanda doesn’t quite know what to say, but something inside her chest settles. She smiles instead, that giddy feeling rising once again as she meets Ms. Romanoff’s eyes. Fuck, the older woman is so effortlessly beautiful. 

Standing, Ms. Romanoff offers her hand. “Shall we?”

Chuckling slightly, Wanda takes the offered hand, blushing at the comforting grip of Ms. Romanoff’s fingers clasped around her own. It feels so natural, her fingers interlocked with the older woman’s, and Wanda finds herself leaning into her. 

They walk back towards the hotel, their pace slow and perfectly in sync with each other. Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume gently wafts toward Wanda, enveloping her mind in a comforting sort of haze. She’s struck with the sudden desire to know everything about the other woman, to break through that outer shell and reveal the complex person she knows is buried deep within her. 

However, even Wanda knows that it’s too early to discover the secrets of Ms. Romanoff. So, instead, she turns towards the woman once they reach her car, and leans in. 

“I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” 

Ms. Romanoff lets out a small huff, her eyes closing briefly to avoid looking at Wanda’s lips, which are about an inch away from her own. 

“Ms. Maximoff, please refrain from teasing me.”

“Or what?”

Wanda barely has any time to gloat in the first crack she’s made to Ms. Romanoff’s facade before she’s being pushed backward and pressed against the side of her car. Those strong hands are on either side of her, trapping her between her car and the woman before her. She can see those muscles flexing underneath the silky fabric of Ms. Romanoff’s shirt, and hears her own shaky breaths as the woman leans in. 

Her lips are mere centimeters away, and Wanda is filled with the urge to taste them. God, they’re so… fucking… close…

“Or I will have to retaliate until you break and crumble beneath me.”

It’s official, Wanda is fucked.

Next Chapter

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[dayz-ina-daze]

Y’know… I feel like Sol was introduced an arc late

I think he would have fit so much better in The New Prophecy instead of The Power of Three… Maybe that’s just me, though, because I haven’t seen a whole lot of people discussing this idea, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I wanted to share what I’ve come up with so far

The New Prophecy is, obviously, about the Clans losing their homes and the chosen six setting out into unknown territory to find somewhere new for them to settle. It’s been a while since I’ve read TNP, but I think I remember enough to have some interesting points to bring up…

So buckle up and bear with me y’all. It’s Spotty Speaks time once again

Everything up to the chosen Clan cats finding Midnight can stay the same. The same journeying and angst and coming together as friends, etc. But, instead of just finding a badger at the sun-drown place, they also find a cat with her: her page, Sol.

For the most part, I think that Sol’s backstory should stay the same, sans some tweaks in the later portion. He was born a loner to his mother, Cinders, who separated he and his littermates to live as kittypets when she could no longer adequately care for them. He adopted the name Harry from his housefolk, but always felt the restless itch to do more and be more that prompted him beyond his garden often despite his lackluster skills. This urge would drive him into the paws of the visiting Firestar and Sandstorm, which is where a major portion of Sol’s backstory changes: He is now one of SkyClan’s founders. (I think that Harrypelt would be a funny name for him lol; Firestar might have mistaken his name for “Hairy”, so his prefix doesn’t get altered too much, or maybe something like “Fluffypelt” or something similar, I don’t know lol)

This works with the rough timeline between Firestar’s Quest and TNP, as well!

But just as he wasn’t satisfied with kittypet life, the rigid structuring of Clan life didn’t scratch Sol’s itch either. He wasn’t a grand hunter or even a half-decent fighter, he was someone who thirsted for knowledge and invention, but his Clanmates had been so firmly rooted in Firestar’s ideals of tradition that they stunted all of his attempts to grow and experiment that eventually he grew embittered, became sick of it, and just… left. Ultimately, he would stumble upon Midnight, an elderly badger who was both a polyglot and a soothsayer who was searching for other animals to share her wisdom with, to pass on and entrust all of her knowledge to someone so that she could retire and live the rest of her days in peace. This intrigued Harry enough for him to want to learn from her, and to honor his transformation into becoming her page, Midnight renames him “Sol”; she names all of her pages after celestial concepts, as she herself once was renamed.

When the Clan cats roll by Midnight, Sol is with her. There’s an obvious tension between him and the Clan cats due to his distaste for them, but he follows his mentor’s example of hospitality while the Clan cats rest as best as he can. I imagine he’s a little older than Crowpaw, but a bit younger than Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt, so he’s more comfortable with the younger cats of the group. Squirrelpaw especially intrigues him; he distantly recognizes Firestar in her attitude and coat, but not enough to put his finger on it just yet.

What would be personally most intriguing to me: Midnight instructs Sol to be the Clan cats’ guide through the mountains, as she predicts there is what they are seeking on the other side. When Sol protests, Midnight states that their duty is not only as keepers of knowledge, but also as guides to any who are lost; the Clan cats will need to know when to stop their travels, anyway, so Sol will be able to help with that. Sol eventually agrees, but he still grumbles about it. So Sol is now accompanying the traveling cats; they encounter the Tribe, Feathertail is killed, they find the lake. Sol follows the Clan cats back to the forest, where he seems especially intrigued by the rattled state they’re all in. He’s the primary guide to the Clan cats as they return to the lake, but he’s especially chatty with Blackstar and the ShadowClan cats, before Hawkfrost catches his attention and the two begin to talk as well. Leafpaw is also intrigued by Sol, and Sol with her; Sol is especially talkative with the medicine cats. Mothwing gets bad vibes from him, but she can’t explain it.

The Clans come to the lake, Tallstar dies but appoints Onewhisker as his successor before he does so. Sol still lingers amongst the ShadowClan cats, but as he belongs to no Clan, he just kind of slips between all the Clans and chats with everyone, namely Hawkfrost and Leafpaw, though their conversations are very different.

The Clans settle into new spots around the lake, but Sol still disregards all of the early boundaries set. This unsettles most of the Clan cats, but many are willing to overlook it on account of how Sol led them all to their new home; he’s an honored guest of the Clans, and is under ShadowClan and Blackstar’s direct protection on account of how scarily close the two had grown over the course of the journey. Blackstar’s faith had been shaken due to several losses during the journey, as well as his general fear that their ancestors had not followed them to their new home, which Sol wholeheartedly took advantage of to essentially use Blackstar as a puppet figurehead for his own desires, masquerading as someone who could see the future and soothe his troubles without the need of “some silly dead cats”.

Sol barely speaks to the traveling cats anymore, and all of the traveling cats get the sense that something in Sol’s demeanor and goals has shifted.

Later, Mudclaw announces his rebellion. Unbeknownst to most of the Clan cats, Hawkfrost and Sol are some of his direct supporters, Sol especially, so ShadowClan is politically on Mudclaw’s side. Mudclaw orchestrates a grand battle with the help of Hawkfrost and Sol to kill Onewhisker, as most of WindClan is on his side due to their respect for Tallstar’s dying wish; I imagine they host their meetings at the Moonpool, which Leafpool discovered with Sol at her side. He’s very ingrained in several huge Clan events now.

Off to the side, Brambleclaw is appointed ThunderClan’s deputy.

Days before the battle is scheduled to strike, Sol and Leafpool run away from the Clans together to be free — though it’s primarily due to Sol’s cowardice. He doesn’t want to be caught up in the battle, but he’s grown fond of the medicine cat and doesn’t want to see her fall. The rebellion strikes just as Midnight finds Sol and Leafpool; she instructs Leafpool to return to the Clans, and for Sol- Harry, to leave them. He’s caused more than enough damage to the already-fragile Clans. When Leafpool asks what Sol means, he refuses to answer, so Midnight explains that Sol has been deeply ingrained in the beginnings of a coup that would forever change the flow of the Clan’s fate should three toms rise to power in the same breath, with a last that has already been broken to Sol’s will. Sol bristles and calls his mentor crazy, but Leafpool trusts Midnight; she’s seen all the evidence herself, after all, and she’s able to connect the dots fairly quickly.

Leafpool returns to the Clans. Sol does not; he stays at Midnight’s side. Sol’s fate is unknown at the end of The New Prophecy, but his intention was always to undo the rigid Clan structure and make room for change and growth — and, if that couldn’t be done, then he’d just destroy the Clans as a whole. But his version of growth was covered in thorns, and the cats he used were blind to his manipulation.

In the aftermath…

Mudclaw is killed despite his support.

Hawkfrost is killed by Brambleclaw after he attempted to coax his half-brother into murdering Firestar so they could claim leadership together, as Leopardstar was weakened by fighting on behalf of Mudclaw at Hawkfrost’s suggestion.

Blackstar, shaken, steps down upon hearing of Sol’s treachery and how he had fled; he retires and becomes Blackfoot again. Russetstar steps up.

Brambleclaw might also step down, feeling horrified at how he was tempted to finish the job Hawkfrost had started and claim leadership for his own. I’m not sure who would replace him, though - maybe Sandstorm?

Leafpool discovers that she is pregnant.

And Sol is still thought to lurk in the wilds, with many Clan cats paranoid that the unusual, cunning tortoiseshell tom still studies the Clans, watching them from the shadows until he feels he can return again to finish what he had started… And in the meantime, the Clans vow to strengthen themselves to never again allow an outsider to shake them so badly that they nearly destroyed one another.

[frost-link]

Hiya, May I requested for Sidon with a female hylian S/o when he was arranged marriage to Yona cause Him and S/o sadly force to breakup and the S/o leave the Zora Domain. Here the twist the S/o shocked to discover days later she's pregnant with his child but scared to tell him worrying how his father, Zoras, Muzu (Especially Muzu) reacts. So she decides to keep it to herself.

Before the events of TOTK Sidon and Yona not married yet. A traveler came to visit the domain to tell a story of seeing a hylian woman playing with a baby half zora/ hylian in the water of lurelin village.

(Ooh! This is a very interesting idea! I'd love to write this! We'll see how this goes! I hope it turned out okay!)

"Unexpected"

You were in a small hut with a doctor sitting before you. It was beyond humid outside with the temperatures scalding the air. The sun still found a way to pierce its heat inside the room. Your eyes stared at the doctor with pure apprehension.

"After our tests, we confirm that you are indeed pregnant Ms (Y/n). Congratulations!" The doctor stated with a firm tone, adjusting her glasses.

"Oh." You responded, not knowing what to say. Your (e/c) eyes stared at the floor, they reflected hundreds of emotions that went through your mind.

"You seem nervous, it is a natural feeling to experience! Have you told your husband about the news?" The doctor tried to ease your worries after noticing your body language. You then looked up at her, fear immediately piercing into your veins. You haven't even considered the idea of even telling Sidon. You left Zora's Domain originally finding out about Sidon getting engaged with Lady Yona, both of you were forced to break up. It had only been a week since you left. Now hearing your suspicions about being pregnant were true, it felt even more like a stab. You didn't even think it would be possible to become pregnant by a Zora since you were a Hylian. However, there you were. How would Sidon even react to hearing this? How would his father, the King of The Zora himself respond? What terrified you the most was how Muzu would react. Even after Calamity Ganon, Muzu was still skeptical about hylians. You sighed looking at the doctor.

"Um... It's complicated. I don't have a husband." You stated in a quiet tone still obviously nervous. The doctor soon slowly nodded giving you an empathetic look.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. Well, I wish you luck for your pregnancy!" She stated, patting me on the back. After you had left the doctor's office it wasn't too long after you had settled down in Lurelin Village. You decided it'd be the best place for you and the baby. It was a small closed off village, far from Zora's Domain. You wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding out. It was also a perfect place for a Zora-Hylian hybrid to be. There was plenty of water for their Zora side, and plenty of Hylians around for them to interact with in the future.

P.O.V Change to Sidon

Two years had gone by since I had seen (Y/n). I kept busy steering my mind clear of her. I busied myself with Princely duties and kept Zora's Domain in check. An older couple had made their way into the domain and they seemed to be talking with each other. They were simply tourists, however it wasn't long before they were surrounded by quite a few Zora. One of my guards approached me. It was none other than the captain of the guard, Bazz. He had lightly tapped my shoulder.

"Your Highness, you probably want to come hear this..." I had looked over to Bazz giving a firm nod, approaching the couple. I finally was within earshot of the two older hylians.

"Yeah, the baby was out by the water playing with their mother. I was worried for a moment before I realized it was part Zora. In all of my years, I had never encountered something half Hylian and half Zora. It is simply unheard of." The older man stated. Another voice chimed in.

"The baby kind of looked like that big Zora over there!" An older woman stated, pointing at me. All of the Zora surrounding the couple immediately turned to me. My golden eyes had widened in shock. A... Baby?!

"It couldn't be..." I muttered softly to myself, lost in thought. One of the Zora approached me, immediately grabbing me by the wrist dragging me away from the crowd who went back to listening to the couple. It was Muzu, he looked skeptical.

"You have to go investigate this yourself immediately and dismiss whatever story that these Hylians are making up. I doubt there's even a child. However if it's real and if it's yours do you have any idea what that means?" Muzu yelled out, looking up at me. I only continued to stare in silence, stunned. Was it even possible? Muzu was quick to continue in the absence of my voice. "It means that you must immediately bring the mother and child back with you and we will have to have a royal meeting about what to do next! Now hurry up and get going!" He stated clearly angry and annoyed, shooing me off. I quickly nodded, immediately making my way out of the Domain and to Lurelin Village.

P.O.V Back to Yourself

You were sitting in the water with your half Zora half Hylian child, holding them up in the water as she/he giggled looking up at you splashing small droplets of water. You smiled softly at your baby before she/he pointed to something.

"Da! Da!" The baby called out, you looked surprised but then shook your head.

"No! Me mama!" You said pointing to yourself, however you noticed your baby wasn't looking at you. You turn your head to see the love of your life you haven't seen in almost two years. Your mouth immediately drops. Sidon hadn't reacted yet, his eyes were fixated on the baby you were now cradling in your arms. He slowly took a few steps to you, then crouched down looking closely at the baby, holding the baby's small hands in his. The minute he made eye contact with her/him he immediately knew it was his. Tears started forming in his eyes, as he slowly took the baby from you, cradling the small baby in his large hands. He had the biggest smile on his face seeing his own child. A minute had gone by before he finally looked down at you, his smile fading.

"Why didn't you tell me..?" He asked softly, almost comforting yet also with a hint of pain. You only looked at him with sad eyes, still shocked seeing him.

"How did you even find me?" You returned his question with one yourself. Sidon sighed, returning the baby back to you before the both of you stood up.

"Word tends to get around fast." He replied bluntly, he then rested his larger hand onto your cheek. "Please come back to Zora's Domain with me so we can figure this out together." He pleaded. You were quick to shake your head.

"Sidon... I already have built a life here with the baby... I... I can't face your father with this! You're also probably married by now! I don't want to make things weird" You said with a sad look, he then returned the same look to you.

"(Y/n)... I can't bring myself to understand hard it is, I can't believe you kept yourself hidden away for so long. However, I do know that I still love you. I never wanted us to break up... However, you have to come back to the Domain." He affirmed pulling his hand away.

"What about Lady Yona?" You quickly responded worried. Sidon was surprised by your urgency but then his eyes widened.

"Wait... Now that you are with my child, I can probably call off the engagement. The baby would immediately be the next heir to the throne after me as the child counts as my first born. He then smiled brightly at you and the child. "We'll make this work!" You then finally nodded in agreement.

"Alright... I'll go back with you." You said and his smile grew wider.

After the two of you got back, there was a meeting that immediately went into effect. Due to the baby being Sidon's, Lady Yona and Sidon called off the wedding and engagement. Soon enough the both of you were engaged not too long after to soon be married with your guy's baby who was soon to turn two years old. Most of the Zoras were accepting of you and the baby, however some of the older Zoras were not too happy about it. However, that didn't matter to either of you.

[sophswritingthings]

BESTIE okay so fourth part of Apothecary series and it's abt how Mizu and Her wife met and I need to disclose backstory about Apothecary wife.

So basically Apothecary wife is a Ex-Shinobi warrior who ran away from that life because it was super traumatizing since she needed to kill her siblings to prove she's worthy to her father. (Her older brother also taught her to be an apothecary).

So after that she became an apothecary and works as a doctor in a nearby town but instead of living in the town she lives in the mountains away from people (Tanjiro core lol), so her home mostly un occupied until she comes home from being a doctor.

One night Mizu finds the home with no one inside and let's herself in for refuge from the cold and like a few hours later the reader comes home to see Mizu inside and she immediately freaks out threw poisoned laced Kunais at Mizu in defense (It's only poisoned lace because she's an apothecary and she knows ALOT abt poison).

So Both Mizu and Reader have an epic showdown (More like a small argument) and reader sees that Mizu is injured and offers a truce to help heal Mizu and that's when their love blossom 😍🫶

(Most of readers backstory is inspired by Tengen 😭)

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): blood, injury, swearing, poison, you know the usual. not a warning but reader obviously believes mizu is male. 

a/n: WE ARE GETTING THE BACKSTORY BABE. TRAUMATIZE THEM

summary: I believe the ask summarized this quite well lmao <3

word count: 1,270 words / 6,802 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your eyes are locked onto your fathers. 

the gaze was fiery. It held passion, it held determination.

you weren’t going to hurt your family. you weren’t going to touch your siblings, let alone kill them.

they were your family, your little sister and brother, two people you had vowed to never hurt. you wouldn’t hurt them.. not to prove yourself, to to save yourself, never. you would rather kill your self than do that.

you blinked. you blinked away the thoughts, choosing to focus on happier ones. like how your elder brother had taught you your skills.. he had trained you in the ways of kindness, in the ways of healing, rather than hurting.

you'd never wanted to hurt. anybody.

you wondered where your brother was now… if he had ever taken over. if he had died in your footsteps, and if that was maybe your fault—

—no. you weren’t going there. he would never blame you for such things.. he wouldn’t. so why should you blame yourself now?

you were headed out into the town, to the collect what herbs you needed. the herbs you hadn’t managed to find in the peaks of your mountain home; than you were on your way to stock the shop for the morning. than back home, to rest in the nestled creaks of your home. 

you had a basket on your arm, a hood concealing your face. you were worried someone would recognize you, someday, or simply kill you for being that of a woman who worked for her keep.

you walked into one of the local shops, the bell ringing as you opened the door. the shopkeeper was a friend of yours; someone you could let your guard down with. you pulled down your hood, greeting him with a smile.

“back again, are you?” he chuckled, “what are you in need of this time?”

“I am in need of shisho, kuromoji and mitsuba. I was unable to find them outside, and I and the shop are in need of them. a few extra for cooking, yes?” you laugh softly watching as he folds the herbs into a cloth for you. he placed them in your basket.

you bow, handing over five iron coins. you leave the shop with a smile, pulling your hood back up. if was half to protect your face from the cold, and half to conceal your identity. 

your shop was two doors down. a pretty painted door illustrated with cranes and flowers, like the ones that littered her kimono's desgin.

she pushed the door open, settling the basket down inside. she grabbed the herbs out of it, leaving only a few behind for her personal use.

she made her way to the back, a wall of baskets greeting her. she sorted the herbs into their respective baskets, which were all labeled which was which. she was organized, that much was true.  

once finished, you whisked your basket away and headed for your mountain home. the only reason you had decided to live in the mountains was the seclusion; definitely not the work it took to get there and back each and every day.

you spent your walk thinking about your family again. It had been years since you had seen them; since you had hugged them, or brushed your little sisters hair.

you assumed that they were dead. you basically knew they were dead; you had been ordered to kill them, and when you did not, you were sure your father had finished off the job. they were only half his children, after all, but they were family to you. no matter how related you were or not.

you sighed. you never wanted to think about your horrible past ever again; you wished you could cleanse your mind of these memories. but it would never be possible.

you were coming to the door of your cabin. that’s when you noticed the door cracked open, the snow slipping in.

your eyes narrowed. who was in your cabin, and what were they taking?

you held four kunai's between your fingertips; laced with poison you had fused with them. whoever was in there was about to regret their damn decision.

you stepped inside, tossing the kunai's at your intruder. This effectively trapped them, pinning the fabric of this man's clothes to the wall.

he looked to be a samurai. tall, broad, a hat and glasses covering his eyes and face.

you were absolutely freaked out; a man rifling through your things. only god knew what he had been doing before you had arrived home.

“who are you?!” you yelp, removing one of the kunai's from the fabric of his clothes and holding it to his chest. “and—and why are you in my house?!“

he gazed at you, expression stone cold and heartless.

“I thought it was unoccupied,” he grumbled, eyes narrowed. “now I see I was wrong.” he glanced down at the kunai you were holding to his chest. “you can put that thing away.”

“not until I get answers,” you hiss, inching it closer to his chest. the poison was dripping from the tip onto his clothes.

“you're getting me all a mess,” he said nonchalantly, as if you weren’t holding a sharp object to his chest.

you roll your eyes, “answer my questions,” you reply. “what we’re you doing in my house, when I found you? what did you take, what did you touch—“

“I didn’t take jack-shit, miss, if you would just let me explain, I could—“

“you have three minutes,” you step away from him, removing the kunai's from his clothes. he nods, dusting off his coat.

“I am a samurai. I am traveling alone, to complete my quest. to fulfill my duty,” he said rather calmly. “if you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold outside. I was simply looking for refuge and a place to bandage myself up.” he gestured to his wound, “I saw your cabin and assumed it was uninhabited, being so high up in these mountains.”

“hm.” you narrow your eyes, “so you didn’t steal anything?”

he shakes his head, “no.”

for some reason, you felt.. trust, to this man. he seemed to be telling the truth.

“you were lucky that you stumbled across my keep,” you murmur. “I am an apothecary. I have knowledge of healing and medicine.. if you would like me to assist you. I offer a truce.”

he looked skeptical, that stoic expression never fading, even for a minute.

than he shrugged, letting his muscles relax. 

“I will accept, only for your healing,” he seemed amused by your words, settling down on a nearby stool.

you gather up a poultice, that you had been mixing. you apply it to the wound, taking bandages you had on hand, and wrapping them tightly around the wound.

you gazed him up and down. there was something about him. some kind of presence, a feeling you couldn’t shake.. your heart was heavy just thinking about it.

you hadn’t felt that way in a while.

“.. you may stay the night, if you so wish,” you whisper. “I have extra keep.”

the samurai bows, “I thank you for your hospitality. may I know of your name?”

you nod, “it is (y/n),” you reply softly. “and may I know yours?”

“It is mizu,” he forked over his name so easily. as if he trusted you already.

mizu.

you repeated the name in your head as he disappeared into one of the rooms. waves.. the name meant waves, that you knew.

and he was like a wave. a wave that washed onto your beach and sucked you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: OUHGHHHHH I AM INVESTED

[badasgirlfriend]

Love On The Down Low | Bada Lee Social Media AU

pairings: bada lee x zhong lei

prev - masterlist - next

a/n: lei my clumsy pookie

taglist: { @1luvkarina , @hallotherenicetomeetyou @fillthwvoid , @kdacase @prilux @jjlovesbada @waveartistry , @dkluvs , @pinksults , @tikitsune , @b1ackbunny , @adaiasafira, @froufrousnowman , @99ycs, @badaslali , @italiekim , @saturnushasmyback , @heedoya @fairiechuu @itsbokutosjuicyass , @tnu-ree @jesuschrist2006 @asweetcollide , @ssivinee , @downbadforbada }

Lei cleared her throat as she looked at the two strangers sitting in her living room. This wasn't quite how she had imagined the encounter would go.

"Um, if you're hungry, I have some extra pancakes-"

"I'm not hungry." the oreo haired girl said through clenched teeth

Lei glanced at the girl's hoodie, which was covered in whipped cream and grimaced. She's so dumb

"I'm sorry again about your hoodie," Lei said, holding out a box full of tissues. "Here, have some..... more."

The taller girl took the box, using a bit more force than necessary. She took several tissues and began slowly wiping away the remaining cream. Lei bowed repeatedly, her apologies becoming more desperate. It seemed like the situation couldn't get any worse.

"Very well, shall we begin?" The older man cleared his throat. He was tired of this situation already and eager to leave.

"Yes, please"

It was honestly funny and sad at the the current situation that Lei put herself in

It all started with the incessant alarm that kept beeping, refusing to stop. This had awakened Lei, who groaned as a massive headache hit her like a brick in the head.

"Fuck"

One eye open and one locked shut, she grabbed her phone, stopping the noisy alarm. Too sleepu to check all the messages she had received, she cleared all notifications. But once she found the time, she was wide awake, and her eyes widened in shock.

"FUCK!"

She jolted forward with sudden awareness, it was already 10 o'clock in the morning, and she remembered that Bada had texted her yesterday, informing her that they would arrive at around 11

She was fucked

She didn't have the time to take some pills for her brutal hangover headache that had already become a constant, gnawing presence in her head.

Damn it, I shouldn't have gotten drunk with Hanni and Felix yesterday...

Half-heartedly, she tried to put on some decent clothing and style her hair in an attempt at a ponytail. But she didn't care that much about her appearance as she dashed downstairs towards the kitchen

She grabbed the milk and eggs from the fridge, along with the flour from the pantry. With quick efficiency, she pulled out a flat pan and a large bowl from the cupboard, as if on autopilot.

"I can't mess this up," she muttered to herself as she cracked the eggs.

In her mind, her plan had been to wake up at 9 to make a lovely breakfast for Bada, but that obviously failed miserably. So now, with no other option, she was left with the task of making pancakes.

She was relieved that she had cleaned the house Bada will live , as well as her own house, days ago with the help of Hanni. That way, at least she could welcome Bada with a clean living room and a neat kitchen.

She picked up her phone as she whisked the batter. She had no idea what kind of coffee Bada drank, so she settled for the simplest one, ordering it for both of them.

The aroma of the freshly cooked pancakes made Lei smile to herself as she put another one on the plate. One by one, she was adding to the pile of pancakes, she was glad that she was managing to make them properly, though she wished she didn't jinx it

"Motherf*cker!" She screamed in pain as she accidentally put her hand near the oven, burning herself. "Fuck this shit, fuck you, fuck everyone, it fucking hurts!!! Oh my fucking god"

Her mouth kept spewing out curses for a minute or two, as she rushed to the sink and sighed in relief at the cold water that flowed onto her skin.

She let out a painful groan when she felt her phone ring. Snatching up the device, she answered the call. "What?" She snapped, her voice still hoarse from the early morning yelling.

"Woah, relax tiger," she heard Felix voice on the other end. "No need to be so aggressive."

Lei sighed, grabbing a towel to dry her hand.

"Fuck you, Felix" she said, "What do you want."

A scoff emerged from Felix on the other end. "I'm just calling to see how you're doing, I didn't ask to be attacked."

Lei rolled her eyes at Felix's comment "I'm making pancakes, or at least trying to," she muttered, "Bada is going to show up any second now, and everything is a mess, I burned my hand, and I need to put whipping cream and some fruits in these pancakes" she said it all in one breath, feeling overwhelmed and stressed

"It's all your fault"

Felix gasped "Bitch I breathed"

"You got us drunk last night" Lei exclaimed

"You wanted to"

"That doesn't mean you should let me"

The dark-haired girl grabbed the whipped cream, and started spreading it on the still steaming hot pancakes.

"Felix, I wanna die," she heard him chuckle.

"We'll do it together" he said with a smile.

She adjusted her phone better, holding her phone up with her shoulder so that her hands were free. "I'm surprised Hanni hasn't called to ask about Bada" she said.

"She hasn't?"

"No, no call. I'm starting to get concerned," Lei joked. She grabbed the plate filled with freshly cut strawberries and the hot pancakes, and headed towards the other counter. As she got there, however, the doorbell rang. Lei jumped in shock, the plate wobbled dangerously in her hands.

Lei cursed under her breath as she realized the coffees had arrived.Everything was becoming too much for her to handle. The nonstop rambling from Felix, the constant ringing of the doorbell, and the oil burning on the pan she had forgotten about, was turning the situation into a complete mess. She felt like her head was going to explode, and she didn't know what to do next.

The doorbell continued to ring incessantly, and for a moment, she felt like throwing everything to the ground and sobbing in a corner. She couldn't think straight when she was stressed, and that's why she sprinted towards the door with the two plates in her hands and the phone supported by her shoulder.

"I'm coming- Felix shut your mouth"

On the other side of the door, Bada let out a long sigh as she waited for the door to be opened. She had a black bucket hat on her head, with a mask to cover her face. She was regretting her choice of wardrobe now, considering the hot weather in Australia.

Her departure from the group was truly heartbreaking. Bada did her best to fight back tears, trying not to upset her sisters even further. But Yeeun, in particular, was inconsolable, since Bada was her go-to person whenever she felt down. With Bada gone, Yeeun and the other girls felt their world turn upside down.

Bada was overwhelmed and not entirely sure of what was going on. So much was changing so fast, from the bullying scandal to the hiatus being announced to having to move in with a complete stranger. This was definitely not what she had planned, and she wasn't sure what to expect or how to deal with it all. She was just taking everything as it came, fuck it

"Where is that damn girl?", her manager hissed at her, looking at his watch in frustration.

Bada rolled her eyes and felt like she was at her wit's end. She didn't reply, but took a step forward and leaned in to ring the bell again.

As her fingers touched the doorbell, the door suddenly swung open with such force that it startled Bada.

Lei jumped, startled by the masked person she saw staring at her, completely blocking her view.

Her phone slipped, falling to the ground with a loud 'thud'. She completely forgot the pancakes she was holding in the other hand, more focused on the phone

Bada's eyes widened in surprise and horror as she saw the pancakes covered in whipped cream slipping out of the plate, it all happened so fast since she was really close to the door the pancakes fell on her hoodie

If she had been excited to move in with Chenle's sister before, then that excitement was gone now.

Lei felt her right hand become lighter unexpectedly, so she turned her head to see what had happened.

"My pancakes..." Lei gave a small cry of frustration, all her hard work now gone on the ground

"My hoodie..." Lei gulped as she heard the unfamiliar voice, and her gut told her it was the voice she had been expecting, but she refused to believe it. She had gone through enough horrors this morning, and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Their eyes met, and she could see the annoyance in Bada's eyes, and that made the whole situation infinitely worse. An older man was standing behind the tall girl, and he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, visibly annoyed too.

The shorter girl raised her hand and gave an awkward wave "Hello Im Lei"

Lei wanted to run into a highway and hope a truck runs her over as she recalled the the embarrassing first meeting she had with the idol

"Alright, so," Mr. Kang, who had introduced himself as Bada's manager, pulled some papers from his leather bag and slid them toward Lei.

It was a contract, which Lei picked up and started reading intently.

"I need you to sign these papers, it's a simple contract that we need to have due to security and privacy reasons" Mr. Kang said calmly, as Lei gulped and read through the papers.

She could see that there was indeed a clause that stated she could not reveal or leak the information that Bada resides here or she would face legal consequences.

"Alright," Lei's voice was soft, and Bada narrowed her eyes at her as if she was sensing something was off. As Lei read through the contract, Bada saw her face pale in surprise, her curiosity piqued.

'She is breath-takingly gorgeous' Bada thought , her eyes lingering on every detail of Lei's face

Her eyes were sharp and piercing, but soft at the same time. Her plush lips were a distraction, a welcome one. Her hair was tied up in a loose, yet messy ponytail, and her oversized shirt and sweatpants made her look relaxed and at home.

"Alright," Lei picked up the pen and signed the papers, this was it. Her heart was racing, even the pen felt heavy in her hands.

Lei was avoiding Bada's gaze, that girl was too perfect, the dancer is beautiful in the pictures, but in real life she's a goddess. She thought this was gonna be easy and fast but how wrong she was

The man clapped his hands "Ok, I'm done here." He picked up the papers and stood up, saying, "My plane leaves in an hour, so I'll get going."

Bada muttered, "Finally," as she got up and Lei followed. Lei was not small, around 5'8, but standing next to Bada, she felt really short.

Damn

When they got to the door, Bada's manager looked at Lei, giving her a tight smile before looking at Bada with a stern look.

Lei understood the message that was being sent; if Bada's manager wanted privacy, then Lei would give it to him "I'll get the keys for the other house, it was nice meeting you Mr Kang"

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kang," Lei bowed her head and rushed upstairs.

Bada's manager took a deep breath "Bada, I've already told you all this before, but I can't stress this enough. Don't go out in crowded places; don't post on social media, dont tell anyone about your location"

"Got it" Bada mumbled

"And most of all, don't do anything with that girl that could make things more complicated than they already are."

Bada rolled her eyes at her manager's sentence. She knew he wasn't fond of her sexuality, but Bada could care less. The thought of her manager thinking she was going to have something going on with Lei was hilarious to Bada. She wasn't interested in the girl at all, but it was still entertaining to see him trying to set boundaries that she would never follow anyway.

"I'm serious, Bada don't mess this up. I won't be seeing you again for quite some time, but we'll keep in contact. When we talk again, I'll let you know about the court case and everything."

"You didnt leave yet" Lei's voice made them look towards her "wait- i mean"

She closed her eyes cursing herself, she really needs to think before talking

Bada tried to cover her chuckle when she saw the look on her managers face, it was priceless

Mr. Kang gritted his teeth, this girl "Don't worry, Miss Lei, I'll be leaving now," he said with a fake smile. With one big thump, the door was shut, and a sense of awkwardness lingered in the air.

Lei was fixated on the door while Bada looked around the hallway, taking in the sights. The walls were full of pictures of Lei and Chenle, her and her parents and friends.

"I'm sorry again about your hoodie, just give it to me, and I'll try to wash it," Lei said and Bada groaned at her repeated apologies.

"This is the third time you've apologized, stop," Bada said, sounding irritated now.

Lei felt taken aback by Bada's harshness. She knew that Bada was annoyed, but she wished she wouldn't keep making it so obvious. It wasn't like Lei had wanted the hoodie to get dirty in the first place

She couldn't help but say "Well if it annoys you then let's make it four, sorry" she opened the door harshly and stepped outside

Bada rolled her eyes and sighed under her breath. "God help me" she mumbled, following right behind her.

Lei made her way towards the creamy-colored house in front of hers, unlocking the door to let herself in. She glanced behind her to see if Bada followed her, and she did

"This is where you will stay," Lei explained as she led Bada into the living room. Lei pointed to the kitchen, which was connected to the living room, and added, "You can also enter from the other door too, which is on the other side of the hallway."

Bada looked around the room, noticing the creamy-colored walls and the comfortable-looking couches. It was a small space, but it was pretty, and Bada loved the comfortable atmosphere.

"The bathroom is there," Lei said, pointing at the white door at the end of the hallway.

"I'll show you your bedroom now," she added.

The girls walked upstairs, Bada able to see there were four rooms in total.

Lei opened the first room that was closest to the stairs, and said, "This is your room."

The room had plain white walls with subtle grey accents, creating a simpl aesthetic. The wooden bed frame adds a warm touch to the room "It's really pretty"

Lei didn't reply, instead, she moved on to the next room. "This is the storage room, the other one is another bathroom again. There you have the laundry and everything," she explained quickly.

Bada pointed at the door of the last room, "What about that?"

"It's just an empty room," Lei replied. "We don't use it for anything. So you can use it for anything honestly you can even practice there."

Bada nodded, her hands in her pockets and her hat still on. "Thank you again," she said.

But Lei was having none of it, still bitter from their earlier interactions. "This is your third time saying 'thank you' Bada," she said, her tone harsh and cold.

The idol got goosebumps at the sound of her name rolling off of Lei's lips, to her it was sweet and soft.

"Stop" Lei repeated, using Bada's own words from earlier. Bada bit her lip nodding, she deserved it.

"I'll be going now," Lei said, handing Bada the keys. "The fridge is full, I did the groceries yesterday."

Bada took the keys and their fingers touched for a split second, sending a jolt of electricity between them. Both Lei and Bada quickly brushed the moment off and ignored it.

"If you need anything, just let me know" Lei added.

"Yeah, okay" Bada mumbled, her eyes following Lei as she walked downstairs.She wanted to call Lei's name but stopped herself. It's not that serious.

She grabbed her suitcases and walked into the room where she would be staying. With a heavy sigh, she flopped down on the bed, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. This wasn't going to end well

Bada tried to be strong when she was with her members, not wanting them to worry about her feelings. Lying became easy for her, and the words "I'm fine, don't worry" entered ber daily vocabulary

She knew that her members cared about her, but she didn't want to burden them with her problems. So she put on a brave face and tried to seem strong, even when she was feeling weak inside.

But now, she was alone. She didn't have to be strong anymore, and she could finally let out all her tears. Her tears fell freely, like a never-ending stream, as she finally allowed herself to feel all the hurt and sadness she had spent so long suppressing.

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part II

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: T

Word count: 1,619

Summary: Vessel continues to do his best to shield his visitor from Sleep's anger. His attempts are... unfortunately inadequate.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Features II for a bit. Brief discussions of trauma/mental pain. Part one can be found here.

Today has been... difficult for Vessel's charge.

Or at least, what passes for "today" in Sleep's domain: the standard hues of grey and black are infiltrated by dim light, like a sunrise through heavy fog.

Either way, it pains Vessel to see her like this - curled in on herself, weeping and shaking, having endured one of Sleep's visions. Having survived an attempt at being broken down.

Vessel had already informed her that in order to leave, she must uncover and overcome her pain. He conveniently forgot to mention this mostly consists of reliving it until it is conquered.

At the time, he thought the lie by omission was to protect her.

But now, all he feels is guilt for not properly warning her.

He kneels beside her, gently placing a hand upon her head to open up the connection between them. Vessel flinches at the sheer level of anguish, but wades through nonetheless as he maneuvers some of her pain, relocating what he can from her mind to his.

It's not much. And it's nowhere near enough. But he hopes it helps, if even for a brief moment.

You cannot save her, my vessel.

Sleep's voice echoes in his mind.

I can try.

Vessel can feel Sleep's anger; it's been building ever since the visitor's arrival. Ever since Vessel deviated from the plan Sleep so obviously laid for him - ever since Vessel revealed that he would not be swayed so easily this time by his Deity.

The domain rumbles, a frequent occurrence as of late.

But he remains unmoved.

He simply continues to kneel beside his visitor, his hand on her head in what he hopes is a comforting gesture as her cries begin to slowly quiet.

The others have begun to warn him, telling him in hushed tones that he's playing with fire, that Sleep is more powerful than all of them combined. They remind him that, should he continue to brazenly disobey, not only will he wind up in harm's way, but so will they. And so will she.

He knows.

And yet, he cannot stop. He has tried - it's not as if he has no desire to protect the others or his visitor. But no matter how much effort he exudes, success still eludes him.

Even during the brief moments when he must leave her to her own devices, when he must devote his attention to other matters like the other vessels, rituals, or more proper devotion to Sleep, he has begun to slip.

He's become distracted.

His thoughts drift more often than they should, away from the task at hand and towards the woman. A cardinal sin when he should be worshipping Sleep with his undivided attention.

It seems as though the only times he can focus is when he is with his visitor, just as he is now.

I will tear her apart before I allow her to take you from me, my vessel.

A dark streak of panic jolts through Vessel, and he knows Sleep feels it too, for he is met with a smug condescension that can only come from a being older than he can comprehend.

I am yours.

Then, before he can properly shield his ruminations, he continues:

Do not harm her. Please.

He winces at himself for allowing the thought to slip. A hum echoes in his brain.

What are you willing to do to keep her safe?

Anything.

Again, he thinks before he can stop himself. A cold dread settles itself over him as he realizes that, despite all his arrogance and determination in resisting his Deity, he has just given it a sign of weakness.

Anything... Sleep all but purrs.

He remains on his guard, but as the silence between him and Sleep continues, he allows himself to focus more on the woman. She's ceased her cries, but she is still curled in upon herself, as if attempting to shield herself from the outside world. The hand Vessel has placed on her head moves, as if of it's own will, and he gently strokes his thumb along her scalp.

He startles to a pause when Sleep speaks to him again.

I will hold you to that claim, my vessel.

With that, he feels Sleep's presence leave him for the time being.

He tries not to think too heavily on what the Deity means with its statement.

He's done unspeakable things in its name - things he will never be forgiven for. Things he will never be able to atone for, no matter how hard he tries.

And yet, a dark pit of dread in his stomach tells him his prior sins will all pale in comparison to whatever Sleep will ask for next.

Vessel desperately pushes the thoughts aside to focus on his charge.

He tries to strengthen the mental connection between them; tries to open the channel wider so as to take more of her pain and make it his own instead. She must feel the intrusion, for she shifts her head slightly away from his hand.

"Stop reading my mind," she mumbles.

Vessel's knee-jerk reaction is to correct her - to explain that he's not "reading her mind", but rather attempting to lessen her mental torture. But he holds his tongue, not wanting to upset her further.

"My apologies," he murmurs softly.

It is then that she turns to him, still in the fetal position but at least facing him now.

"I suppose you know now," she says absentmindedly.

"Not exactly," Vessel gently corrects. He is honest - he does not know the exact source of her pain; just that the pain itself exists in blinding quantities.

"The visions that Sleep gives you are not shared with me. I can only feel your suffering. I do not know the cause of it."

She gives a small, noncommittal hum in response.

"Good."

Vessel hides the slight sting he feels. She owes him nothing, after all; especially not any sort of deep insight into her driving forces. Yet, the sting is still present.

He wants to help her. He wants to ensure her safe return to wherever she was before this. He wants to know her as thoroughly as he is able.

But he understands the walls. He understands the apprehension.

He felt much the same when he was first brought to Sleep's domain. Vessel has only vague memories of his guide from those days - memories that fade more with each passing increment of time. But he remembers the distrust. The sinking feeling that he could not be sure of his guide's intentions.

He now wishes he had held the same level of discernment when Sleep itself offered him its bargain: loyal, unending devotion in exchange for everything Vessel could ever want.

At least, everything he thought he wanted.

Now, however, his wants directly contradict those of Sleep. This becomes glaringly obvious the next time Sleep bonds with his mind, after several minutes of silence has passed.

Leave her. Two requires your presence.

Vessel pauses, doing his best to come up with some sort of excuse to not leave his charge while her first vision is still so fresh.

She is in pain. She is still in need of guidance. I can help her along her path if I am closer to her.

The ground rumbles. His best was not enough.

You said you would do anything to keep her safe, did you not? Sleep says. And yet, such a simple task seems to be... too excessive. What a pity.

"No," Vessel blurts out loud as he stands abruptly. He understands the implicit threat in Sleep's words.

The woman makes a questioning sound as she gazes up at him from where she still lay on the ground, eyes bleary and tired.

"I... I apologize," Vessel says as he scrambles to correct his mistake. "Sleep has summoned me. I must take my leave, just for a moment."

She makes another sound, a mixture of resignation and disappointment. Vessel quickly kneels next to her, placing another hand on her head.

"I will return. You have my word."

Her eyes close, a miniscule nod moving her body.

Leave her, my vessel.

This time, Sleep's command leaves no room for disagreement, and Vessel turns towards the inky ether.

He moves quickly, bonding with his fellow vessel's mind to discern his location amongst the monotony. II is not difficult to find - Vessel typically only needs to follow the sound of snares and cymbals.

But this time, it seems that II is not in the middle of his usual activity, but rather he is resting beneath the same red tree adorned with ribbons that Vessel had brought his visitor to not long ago.

"You asked for me," Vessel says.

II jolts, almost as if Vessel must have woken him. But then again... why would II summon him if he were asleep?

"What do you mean?" II asks when he fully wakes.

"Sleep informed me that you requested my presence. It seemed urgent."

II pauses, staring Vessel up and down before carefully choosing his next words.

"I... don't recall asking for you, Vessel."

He feels a familiar sense of rage begin to simmer low in his body. But before he gets the chance to process or act on the feeling, a shrill scream echoes through the atmosphere.

Vessel knows the regular sounds of Sleep's world intimately. He can pinpoint the source each shuffle, grunt, groan, and melody. But this shocks him.

The scream does not sound like any of Sleep's creatures.

But if it does not belong to any of the domain's inhabitants, then that means -

"Vessel, don't-"

He does not allow II to finish his warning as he breaks into a dead sprint through the fog.

[theology101]

Galicaea murdered Cassandra and Sol murdered Ankarna - which is why Kipperlilly Did That

We learned in Revelations and Revivifications (Episode 11 of Season 2) that it was her Clerics from Fallinel who murdered Cassandra. That's just straight up a fact. Now, we don't know exactly what her role in this is but, "As Above, So Below." If Galicaea's top priests are making this move, then Galicaea was down with it.

I've heard a lot of people refer to the wolf aspect as if it was some 'real' version of the faith that's been corrupted. It isn't, it's an Older aspect and its one that Tracker and Co. love a lot more but both of them are a result of worship.

We learned about this 'Last Great Sylvan War' around 900 years ago about the proper way to worship Cassandra. While the High Elves who settled it went with "Erase the goddess - to understand mystery is a heresy," I'm guessing they also heavily influenced the Wood Elf/Non-High Elf variant of Galicaea into being more in line with their version. Obviously a remnant survived in folk religion like with Tracker and other Werewolf communities, her revival reveals that prior to her, there hasn't been any serious challange to Falinel statement.

I think that then Sol started marching North. Gallicaea had claimed Night as hers and hers alone, by deceiving their shy and naive sister and then went to finish the job with Ankarna. But her? No way they could convince Ankarna to kill herself, especially now that her sister was 'dead' (Cassandra technically managed to live via the Quasi-Reality inside of Sylvaire, Kristen more redefined her and allowed her to be alive outside of the Nightmare Forest).

So I think that the Human Priests of Highcourt and the Elves of Fallinel agreed to wipe them out. Sol's paladins burnt their way up the coast and conquered it - we know that the land of Elmville is native Halfling territory, but right next to it is the Mountains of Chaos which was, in my opinion, their true target. Sol wanted the aspects like Conviction, Fire, Rage, Etc. while he gave Helio Summer.

Meanwhile, Ankarna? Her turning Infernal wasn't something done to her, it was something she/her priests did. Why would they do that? Because they're being invaded. The Giants probably took on a more leadership based roll compared to the far less capable to defend themselves Halflings, Goblins, Aaracockra, arguably even Orcs. Turning more and more evil, brutal, and extreme is a result of her being back further and further into a corner. It was a defense of the other races and for her own life.

I think that, while adventuring in the Mountains of Chaos for Spring Break, the Rat Grinders found out about Ankarna's priests and believers being wiped out, maybe one of her ancinet and long forgotten temples. That was it and it would have been it, if Kipperlilly didn't learn about Cassandra. I think her sheer, burning jealousy made her want, above anything else, to bring back a Goddess herself.

And her solution was going to be Lucy Frostblade. And for about two weeks, Ankarna was brought back with Lucy being her sole worshipper. And this is what I think happened next: sweet, kind, Lucy Frostblade's Ankarna wouldn't be the warlike aspect. She'd be like how she was before the Humans and Elves attacked, a kind and loving goddess.

Except there's a problem. There's another worshipper - just one.

Jace Stardiamond, draining power from the corpse of the long dead war goddess.

So, he and Kipperlilly somehow get in contact (my money is through Oisin secretly being a sorceror the whole time and just Acing wizard classes with 0 effort) and together they agree there's only one solution - kill Lucy Frostblade so their version of Ankarna can remain. The High Five Heroes kill Lucy and all begin worhsipping Ankarna (all under the influence of Devil's Honey.) Kipperlilly, Oisin and Mary Anne are all in on it (symbolized by their Blue backgrounds) but Ivy and Rueben refuse to go along with the murder but, since they're not in the way, they're able to be devil's honeyed into not knowing (Symbolized by their red background).

Ivy's weird reaction to Fig? She always 'knew' that Lucy was alive - she's not important to the plan anyways, so she doesn't need to be included. Some random lie is fed to Ivy to explain why Lucy isn't recognized as 'dead.' Reuben though? Kipperlilly can still use Reuben - use him to proselytize and spread the word of Ankarna - so not only does he need to be aware of the details around Lucy's death and all the Ankarna stuff, he also can't know the Ratgrinders killed her. He clearly still thinks highly of her - I think that vomitting the 'blood' in his dream was Fig breaking the Devil's Honey barrier in his mind.

Which is why, as Gertie told us, Kipperlilly ordered two bottles RIGHT after break. They need to keep him in line with the plan.

Jace changed the records in the school so that Yolanda never realized that she switched gods from Ruvina, and used his own spells to fuck with the name and hidden it (clearly there's a difference between the rune on the paper, which no one could read, and the translated version in Fallinel which has been sat for a thousand plus years), and did the same to the body. Yolanda, trusting him as Vice Principal, tells him about her fears, he goes with her into the woods and then instantly kills her in the clearing.

The plan is to take Ankarna from the Dead/Undead form (but now conscious thanks to their efforts) back to being actually alive via a Cleric believing in her.

Of course, in the mean time they need a Cleric. Make him expendable, but still useful. Make the cleric be a Priest of Helio or Sol so that they can kill him, immediately planeshift into Heaven behind him, eliminate his soul and then Oisin and Kipperlilly sneak into the office and bring back the Goddess. In fact, I bet they're gonna fling Buddy Dawn's soul into the void and using the death of a cleric of Helio, Ankarna will return. Killing Buddy was the act of Conquest they needed.

Rueben is obviously in doubt, trying to get help from his Uncle (skipping Forest Animal Murdering and asking for a ride home?), but I think Oisin is in it for the power. Mary Anne is a Kobold, and I think Oisin's Grandma is the dragon her tribe is sworn to so she just follows him around.

I don't think any part of Jace Stardiamond's section of the plan, the bit about the return of Ankarna, has anything to do with Kipperlilly running for preisdent or their quest against the bad kids. Killing Buddy in the Last Stand was just a conveint series of events but as Brennan said in the adventuring party - it looked like killing Buddy was already on the table. That wasn't a freak out move, it was on the agenda, she just wasn't there yet.

For the Presidency, unlike the Ankarna plot where only Oisin and Stardiamond are conspirators, all the Rat Grinders are in on it because they all seem to have personal beef. Except for Oisin and Mary Anne, who seem to be fine with the Bad Kids as a whole, just still on Kipperlilly's team for the race.

For that, Kipperlilly frames the Loams for embezzling, pocketing the money, and then using Ankarna's nightmare king form to kill the Loams when it looked like she was being to thoroughly looked at. Now she has money for both Schemes and the Campaign. Stardiamond tells Reuben to move Frostfaire to the Thistlepsing Tree (just to fuck with the ground and, if I had to guess, be the reason why Gorgug has been getting angrier and angrier as the season's gone on. Specifically, he seemed to really 'Get Mad!' when fighting Grix).

Kipperlilly knows about Buddy's grandpa so after Yolanda gets killed by Jace, Kipperlilly tells Buddy to ask his grandpa to apply while Jace puts the question to Mazey (a decision he should've made himself, to be honest). Bobby's here just to get Kristen expelled, and when they they decided to take the last stand, she grabbed a Rage Shard, strapped it on an arrow, and aimed it at the proctor.

I think that, as the ultimate 'fuck the bad kids' move, the Proctor would go angry and huge and the party would be forced to kill him. Not only does he die, but they were the ones who killed him which would MURDER their grade. I would guess.

But Kristen saw her, and could prove that another student directly interfered with the test (via undergoing a zone of truth). So instead, Kipperlilly indirectly interferes and puts the 'lets kill Buddy' part of the Main Plan into effect. Probably would have happened anyways (they're in a pocket dimension alone, great time to kill a man tbh)

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 11)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: post business cocktail

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

Table of Contents:

PART TEN

Isobel hadn’t expected the various changes that came with exploring a relationship with Drew, but one thing in particular that stood out was how things had abruptly shifted the dynamic she had with Chandler. His stutter that he’d randomly developed when he was around her two summers ago seemed to have vanished under the impression that she was now with Drew.

The way he was now addressing her was with a boldness that came off as him having the ego boost of someone who’d figured out a secret they shouldn’t have. Isobel knew Chandler would never hold it over her head, but she wasn’t sure if he would use the forbidden knowledge against his older brother.

He loosely promised her he would keep what he knew a secret, and for some reason she trusted him to keep his word. Him finding out wasn’t ideal, but the aftermath wasn’t as bad as the outcome she conjured in her head. It was actually nice having someone know about her and Drew and accepting it for what it was. It was a sense a relief, that same feeling she was hoping to feel when she tried to confide in Charlotte at the party a few nights ago.

But it was different with Chandler—he was family and his opinion resonated with her more than that of a friend, just like her mother or father’s would. It gave her hope for those next steps, if she ever got the courage to tell her parents—or if she ever allowed herself to feel something for Drew that was worth sharing with the people she loved.

Being home for holidays was sort of putting a roadblock on the progression of their relationship. They were were obviously trying not be physical with each other, but the fact that they would be in the same residences majority of the break forced Drew’s attention to remain solely on her—there were no distractions.The pessimistic side of her wondered if they were still at school if he would’ve been entertaining another girl by now. And then there was the naive side of her that possessed her right mind when she was around him or got the chance to feel his lips pressed desperately against her own, that had her feeling content with having Drew to herself for the time being—because never did she ever allow herself to hope for a future.

Until now.

In the small instances where she imagined telling her mother about what was going on with Drew, or how she swooned when she saw the qualities that made her cherish her father and Charles so deeply embedded deep in his character. She let herself hope in those little moments.

Standing across from a guy she just met at the hands of her calculating mother, she wished in this moment she could scream at the top of her lungs that she didn’t need be introduced to another business associate’s son because she had someone already—she had Drew.

That’s all she could think of as her eyes settled on “Zachary but you can call me Zach” as they stood at one of the little tables at the company’s winter business cocktail. She studied his face, but all she could think of was Drew’s ocean blue eyes that sometimes looked green depending on the light. She sized him up and noted how she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him like she did with Drew. Zach lacked everything she found endearing about Drew, it made her appreciate the little things about him even more.

Zach was rambling on about Fortune 500, and from the minor slurring she’d caught in his speech she figured he’d been indulging in the open bar and complimentary champagne this evening. She listened for as long as she possibly could before the feeling of eyes settled on her claimed her attention as she looked to her right just for her eyes to immediately land on Drew’s pointed stare. He looked bothered, she could tell by the deep crease in the center of his eyebrows, and the frown edged on his lips. Isobel gave him a subtle smile, but his face remained stoic. Every part of her in entirety was desperate to go to him to place her hands on his face and melt the tension from his features.

She wasn’t aware of how long she’d been looking over at him but she did notice when his eyes shifted as if he was looking through her and suddenly her line of sight was being blocked by Zach’s sliding over around the table to move closer, “Dance with me, Isabella.” He requested as his breathe immediately burned her nostrils from the crude scent of alcohol.

“No, I’m fine thanks.” Isobel decided to ignore the fact the he’d referred to her as Isabella, so the situation didn’t get prolonged more than it needed to be. She wanted to be anywhere but over here, not only because she was uninterested, but being around a wasted man while she was sober was just no fun at all.

She could tell he was not expecting her answer from the way he harshly blinked his eyes, he looked like the kind of person who didn’t often face rejection. He quickly recovered with a lazy smile then leaned his body towards her. The feeling of his hand appearing on the back of her elbow burned her skin as he slid his finger down until he was loosely grasping her arm, “Come on let’s have some fun.”

“Did you not hear me I said no-“ he didn’t even let her finish the sentence before his grip tightened around her forearm.

Her heart began to race in panic, but she let him slightly pull her towards him, giving him a false sense of her compliance and immediately forced her arm out of his bruising hold. She was now free from his restraints but fear that he would try something else had her looking for someone who could intervene and her eyes went straight to Drew. A bit of relief washed over her when she saw him stalking over, but her breathe hitched at him storming towards her one second and Charles stopping his pursuit the next.

Just as that relief was about to leave her again, her father’s large build slicing through the crowd toward Zach kept her calm. She gasped when Richard Cooper shoved him away from her and the general vicinity of the table. Her father was a muscular guy so the little shove practically sent him flying across the room. Richard didn’t give him another second of his attention before signaling for security, and pulling her into his arms. There she felt utterly safe like nothing could ever happen to her. It was what she was anticipating to feel when it was initially Drew coming for her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Her father’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts as he scanned her from head to toe in concern.

Her eyes followed the security pulling Zach out of the building while his mother shouted expletives at him as she trailed behind them. It was when the door shut that her body finally allowed herself to actually breathe, “I’m fine.”

Her mother appeared just as she answered him with worry etched onto her face, and immediately grabbed Isobel and pulled her into her embrace before giving her a once over just as her father did. Everyone seemed to be minding their business for the most part. Only the guest in the general area that saw her father diffuse the situation were pathetically pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I’m so sorry I let you go off with him, Isobel, his mother was just begging me all night to introduce you two.” Her mother’s voice was strained, she could literally hear how it pained her to realize she potentially sent her into harms way. It made Isobel hate the asshole even more for making her think such a thing. “You have nothing to apologize about, Mom, I promise you I’m okay now.” She reassured.

Lora gave her a weak unconvincing smile then pulled her back in to squeeze her into one of those soul crushing hugs. Her back was facing everyone while in her mother’s arms, but she could feel Drew’s presence when he walked up to them, the familiar feeling of his eyes piercing into her made the hairs on her arms stand in attention. Isobel attempted pulled out of Lora’s embrace, but she only allowed her to stand at her aside as she kept her arms locked around her waist.

Drew was already looking at her when she looked towards him, his eyes seemed to be darting all over her body, standing silently beside Charles.

“I’m never letting another man near my daughter again, you hear me, Lora? Tell those desperate ass women we are not interested in a son-in-law moving forward.” Isobel knew her father was partially joking, but his words hit a nerve.

Charles smiled in obvious agreement with his friend, but to her surprise Drew never reacted to her father inadvertently denouncing him as her potential husband, he looked stiff like he was using all his restraint to hold himself back, his eyes being the only thing that was moving freely.

“For once I can agree with you on the matter.” Lora gave her another squeeze before reluctantly letting her go. Every one hummed in agreement, and Isobel couldn’t help but squint her eyes at Chandler who was obviously amused by her father’s proclamation as he discreetly jabbed an elbow into his brother’s side to which Drew ignored.

“-Are you sure you’re okay, Isobel?” Drew’s words were rushed as they escaped from his lips. He tried his best to stand there quietly, to pretend like every inch of him wasn’t dying to go over to Isobel, wrap his arms around her, and make sure she was okay. Not just physically, but emotionally, he knew she tended to internalize what she was truly feeling and he needed to know that what just happened didn’t fuck with her head.

His question caused everyone’s eyes to snap to him before immediately going back to Isobel as they awaited her response. He’d been hesitant in asking with everyone standing here in fear of what would leave his lips with the adrenaline rushing through his body.

He didn’t care if she was going to be upset with him for his outburst. He could keep their physical relationship to himself, restrain himself from touching her when it’s all he could think about doing, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care about her not when that was something he’d been doing from first moment he laid his eyes on her.

“I’m fine I’m just kind of tired.” She smiled, with her mouth and eyes as he watched as they warmed before his own, he couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else saw it too—the gleam in her eyes. Once again it felt like they were the only ones present in the moment, one glance shared with her feeling like eternity when reality only seconds had passed.

“Drew take Isobel home and makes sure she gets there safely.” His father’s request caused his eyes to leave Isobel for what felt like the first time tonight since she arrived. He didn’t know what to think of his father’s behavior tonight, in the beginning the man was staring daggers at him across the room, and now he was being supportive? Drew wasn’t sure of what exactly, but he felt a reassuring energy coming from him.

Charles had stopped him from potentially killing a man for touching Isobel, and for an intuitive man like his father, that could be enough to confirm any conjectures he’d formed about Isobel and Drew when they returned home yesterday.

“That’s a good idea, do you want any of us to come with you?” Isobel’s mother asked, he still could see the terror in her eyes. When everything was going down and she ran up to him and Charles’ scrambling to find her daughter it only added to his anger and desperation to get to her.

“No, I’m fine you guys stay here and enjoy the cocktail.” Isobel insisted before giving both of her parents a hug and walking over to slip beside Drew.

His body routinely reacted as it always did to the feeling of her next to him, the hairs on his arm stood erect, his side warming like they were two magnets pulling towards each other. Richard, Charles, Cooper, Lora, and Catherine were talking while Chandler was absorbing every word—the younger Starkey enjoyed gossip just as much as their mother. Drew didn’t hear a word they were saying, he couldn’t when Isobel’s arm was grazing his side. God he wanted to grab her waist and just hold her but he refrained.

Then he felt a tickle on his knuckle and looked down to see her blindly curling her pinky around his larger one. That simple touch alone made it feel like his heart was going to pound out of his chest as it filled with an inexplicable feeling. It was so minuscule, but that lock of their fingers represented how they made each other feel, the part of them they were hiding from everyone. And Isobel reaching out to him in that way, no matter how discreetly in front of their families, was comparable to how a quick peck from her on his lips could make him feel—content yet desperate for more.

“You ready to go?” He asked loud enough to to gain everyone’s attention again.

Isobel nodded her head and let his pinky go, ready to get out of there and just contemplate her feelings under her shower head. She giggled to herself as Chandler insisted he leave with them. She could tell Drew was annoyed with his little brother tagging along just from his left eye twitching, but he didn’t protest, “You guys are doing a horrible job of being discreet by the way.” Chandler causally threw out as they walked out of the building.

“Wait, really?” She groaned, if her heart rate went up anymore tonight she was going to go into cardiac arrest. She knew she was giving more attention to Chandler’s implications about her and Drew being together, but at this point she didn’t have it in her to care.

“No, not really, I think I’m only noticing because I know what’s up with you two.” He grinned with pride, obviously still finding amusement at how worked up Isobel was about all of this.

“You don’t know shit, get in the car.” Drew mumbled and rolled his eyes as he unlocked the door for them.

This time last year she wouldn’t have expected any of this, they were all three as trio becoming closer and it was all because a split decision to let Drew ‘get a feel of his observations.’ The statement was corny looking back, but thinking of it made her chest warm.

Chandler did most of the talking as Drew drove towards her house which was about five minutes away from C&S, thankfully no one asked for details about what happened earlier during the ride, especially when she hadn’t even fully digested the whole thing herself. Isobel was the only one who entertained his rant about his parents not letting him have ‘at least one drink’ at events while Drew rubbed his temples with his pointer and middle finger at all the talking, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

It was hard trying to remain platonic with Drew after blurring so many lines with him, but sharing a car with two people she’d known for years made her appreciate the moments in between the lust when they were keeping their hands to themselves a little bit more. She could look back at this as a time where they were picking up where they left off as friends.

“Chandler, wait in the car while I walk Isobel up.” Drew said while pulling into her driveway. Seeing the empty garage and the barely lit house filled her body with dread at the view, she wanted him to stay with her.

Isobel stayed silent as she attempted to get out of his truck as gracefully as she could in a dress and heels but graciously took Drew’s hand when he finally came over to help her down. The feeling of the hand he used to grab her left hip and steady her body searing through the silk of her dress onto her skin, “Will you stay until my parents get home?”

Drew’s mouth slightly opened and then closed, a little taken aback by her question. But after what happened tonight he would do anything she asked to make her feel safe, even if it was risky.

“How about I take Chandler home first, and come back-“

“-No I don’t want you to leave.” It took a lot for Isobel to admit she needed someone, but despite her usual hesitancy the words left her mouth with ease.

One of his hands tightened into a fist, barely stopping himself from reaching up to comfort her. He loved this feeling, a girl showing her vulnerability, and him not wanting to run away, he’d never felt the need to stay before, “Just go upstairs I’ll be right up behind you.”

Isobel sighed and gave him a squint letting him know she was expecting him to do exactly as he said before punching in the code to the house and slipping behind the wooden door. It was his turn to sigh, now facing his brand new truck he was about let his imbecile of a brother drive home without his supervision.

“Chandler, the keys are in the middle console go ahead and drive yourself home.” Drew grumbled.

The last thing he wanted was for the eighteen year old to be behind the wheel of his baby, but when it came to Isobel he’d let his little brother drive it across the country. Chandler jumped at the opportunity, choosing to access the driver seat by crawling up from the backseat which was no easy feat for a boy with his height but he managed, “Wipe that look off your face I’ll get it home safely, you can go in there and tussle tongues with your girlfriend.”

Drew didn’t bother to respond, slamming the truck door in his face and making his way back up the pathway to front door. Just as he entered the house and was turning to shut the door his entire body cringed at the sound of Chandler revving his engine.

He was in the same position as earlier, the house empty and Isobel just a staircase away, and his eagerness to see her hadn’t waned in the slightest. She wasn’t in her room when he walked in, but he could hear her humming behind her bathroom door. The warm vanilla scent escaping from the cracks of the enclosed area telling him she’d was in the shower, so he waited for her. Drew felt like he could wait on her forever in any given circumstance, but waiting on her to finish showering as the sound of her melodic voice filled his ears was becoming his favorite—he was the only one who got to witness this side of her.

He sat on the seat in front of her vanity, her sweet humming relaxing him to the point where he could have dozed off. And then the door swung open and there she was clad in an oversized t-shirt and just like that night in her apartment a few days ago he couldn’t tell if she was wearing bottoms or not. He loved every inch of her body, so even just getting a glimpse of her legs made his stomach flutter—it was pathetic how hooked he was on her. As if him suddenly realizing all she had to offer so late into knowing her made every glance thereafter knock the breathe out of him.

“You look adorable.” Drew smirked as he stood up and reached to flick the fluffy pink headband she had holding her long, dark hair back. She rolled her plump lips together like she was embarrassed and his heart skipped. “Thank you, Drew, take your jacket off.” She demanded, walking up to him then sliding her hands into the inside of his suit jacket and helping him push the sleeves down his muscular arms with his tinted blue eyes looking down on her. She walked away from him to to hang it on a hook that was attached to the back of the closet but the smell of her remained.

Isobel wanted to jump Drew, to thrust herself into his big arms, but she didn’t. The girl just put his jacket elsewhere and turned to make her way towards her bed. She sat there and just swept her eyes down his body for a moment just to take in how good he looked in a button up and slacks. Drew looked sexy, he looked like a man and it was times like this, including the fact that he was a close family friend, that she couldn’t believe they were involved, “Come lay down with me, please?”

Drew had been the practical one out of the two when it came to them following her rules she set for them, so she made sure to bat her eyes when she asked. Isobel had some self-control, she didn’t have anything sexual in mind, she just wanted to feel him against her.

“I can’t take all this shit off just to get into bed with you, Izzy, we don’t know how much time we have.” Drew stated, referring to his formal wear he still had on from the cocktail.

She couldn’t help but smile at him remembering how anal she was about germs from clothes getting on her comforter.

“Well just don’t worry about it, I’ll wash my bedding tomorrow,” She rolled her eyes when he raised his eyebrows in shock, Isobel wanted him in her bed and she wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of that not even the fact that they were in her parent’s house, “I just want to be with you right now.”

He didn’t argue as he moved to slip off his shoes before crawling into bed with her. He rested his weight on his arm and leaned over so he was looking down at her face. The lights were dimmed, so he couldn’t make out any of the brown specks he usually saw in her eyes, but they still gleamed from the moonlight streaming in.

“I let Chandler drive the truck home.”

“-What? Wait I didn’t even think of the fact that he probably wanted to go home, I thought he would just stay.” Isobel said as instant regret filled her at her insistence that he didn’t leave her alone. Drew had only had that truck a few weeks, and now he had someone whose driving was sub par at best driving it because of her.

Isobel could do this whole thing with Drew, she could have an intimate relationship with him with no strings, but she didn’t want to be an emotional nuisance. She tried to keep things surface, drawing the line at anything that wasn’t just for physical satisfaction, but what she needed from him tonight was comfort and when he did that for her she couldn’t help that her heart warmed in reaction.

“You have nothing to feel bad about, some guy put his hands on you and you said you wanted me here so I’m here, Isobel.” He said her name with finality as if he was warning her not to argue, so she let it go, though fear of being an inconvenience was swallowing her up inside, “Tell me what happened, baby.”

Her entire body shuddered, if he called her that after every thing he asked from her she would be at his beck and call. She loved how deep Drew’s voice was and hearing him use that name for her in that grainy drawl was pleasuring to her ears.

“It was nothing really he was drunk, wanted to dance with me, and he didn’t like that I declined.” She trailed off, trying to make sense of it in her head. It would be a perfect world if no one brought it up, if everyone just went on thinking she was invincible and strong, but Drew wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Don’t minimize it Isobel, just because he was drunk didn’t give him the right to grab your arm and fucking corner you.” Drew was irritated, she could see it in his eyes, hear it in the clipped tone of his voice as he stared deeply into her eyes. That crease was back between his eyebrows, and though she was right below him his eyes still darted up and down her face as if he couldn’t decide what part of her to focus on. “You didn’t deserve that tonight, I don’t see how anyone would ever want to hurt you, Is.”

“I know, I’m just glad you were there.”

His eyes dropped to Isobel’s lips when she gave him a grin, “You promise you’re okay?”

“Drew.” She groaned, dragging out his name, Isobel wasn’t used to anyone besides her mother and father being this concerned about her feelings or well-being, but she couldn’t definitively say that she hated it, “You don’t have to keep worrying—I’m fine, promise.”

Drew sighed as he tucked his face in her neck. He breathed her in, hearing her emit a giggle as his nose tickled the sensitive skin. God, Isobel was his favorite—favorite person, favorite smell, favorite everything—the thought felt rudimentary, but that was just him putting it in simple terms.

“I’m sorry I almost caused a scene earlier at the event.” Drew lamented after pulling away from her to look her in the eyes once more. It was all a blur, that moment from when he saw her struggling to get away from that man to when his father was holding him back. Charles had always been subliminally against the idea of Isobel and Drew coming together in any manner, but for once part of him was grateful for him in that particular moment.

Him intervening had somehow brought Isobel and Drew closer.

“You have nothing to apologize for, you’re not the one who grabbed me, Drew.” She comforted him, she hated that she was making him feel like he had to apologize for wanting to protect her.

“I know but I could’ve ruined everything for us—I was just so pissed off. No other man deserves to touch you, Isobel.”

No other man.

Isobel stayed quiet when he brought his hand up to cradle the side of her face, so he kept going.

“I know you’re not mine Isobel but let me think it for just this one night so I don’t go insane.” He sounded desperate but couldn’t find it in him to care, he was always hopeless when it came to her, sometimes it was just harder to mask.

Isobel softly pecked his lips, straining her neck to reach his mouth, and Drew pushed forward deepening the kiss so she wouldn’t break it. He loved when their kisses began like that, her teasing and him chasing her. His hand splayed across her rib cage causing her shirt to bunch under his rough touch. Kissing Isobel and hearing the sweet sighs of satisfaction leave her throat always made him feel like he needed to anchor onto something before he fell and that showed in the way his hands blindly fisted the fabric of her tee and the groans the tongueless kiss could pull from him.

“I’m yours, Drew.” Isobel mumbled as their lips continued to connect.

She’d been telling an abundance of lies as of late to protect what they had, but she wasn’t sure the one he’d just blatantly asked her to say was completely void of truth.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART TWELVE

[ellieshaze]

After Dark

{Part 1}

NSFW minors dni!

Ellie Williams X F! reader

warnings: Gendered terms, nothing too nsfw ellie just feels you up, language (it’s Ellie obviously there’s cussing), alcohol (reader and ellie are wasted), a lot of kissing, ellie is very sweet <3 , the next part(s?) will definitely contain nsfw content tho sooooooooo

word count: 1.8k

After a party you and Ellie, both drunk end up in a dark alley way of Jackson.

You were watching people stumbling around drunk, the sound of music loud in the house, room hot with all of the bodies. You leaned against the wall, drink in hand, watching the girl you’d had your eye on for years. Ever since she came to Jackson. You had become friends with her shortly after she arrived, and you fell fast. She’d never returned the feelings, at least you assumed. Ellie had a girlfriend for a while, but they broke up months ago. Ellie was on the opposite side of the room, also drinking while she talked to her friends. She wore a simple brown flannel unbuttoned with a fitted white shirt underneath. It was so basic and yet it had you feeling some kinda way. Your gaze left her as you stood silently, enjoying the rock music that was currently playing.

Parties weren’t a rare thing in Jackson, but usually they were more controlled and had less alcohol. The older adults would probably bust you all and shut shit down soon, that’s usually how it went. You were on your third drink, definitely buzzed from the beer when you noticed someone approaching from the corner of your eye. It was Ellie, she was walking towards you. Internally you were panicking, but on the outside you pretended you didn’t notice her. She leaned against the wall next to you, facing you, a beer in her hand. “So are you gonna stare at me all night or come dance with me?” Ellie asked you so nonchalantly, you immediately became flustered. “I-“ you began but were cut off when Ellie grabbed your arm, pulling you into the middle of the room.

The music that came from the speakers now was slower, however you did not recognize it. Ellie pulled you close to her, bodies pressed together, you were nervously avoiding her gaze. “Hey” She spoke softly, her hand reached your chin as she made you look at her. When your eyes met hers you were met with the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen. Ellie’s hands met your waist, and yours wrapped around her neck, You were so close to her. “I wasn’t staring at you” You muttered, eyes still locked with hers. “Sure” She chuckled, it was a beautiful thing to hear. Everything about Ellie was, her eyes, her smile, her voice, her body, how her hands rested firmly on your waist.

The two of you swayed to the music, eyes locked on one another, bodies pressed firmly together. You were anxious but you couldn’t tear your eyes from hers, something about them just locked you in. “Calm down” she spoke to you, her thumbs rubbed gently on your waist which she was still holding. Her voice and touch was calming, but your heart was still beating fast. The two of you danced for a few minutes until the song was over, and she pulled you by your hand towards the kitchen. “Let me make you a drink” She said to you as you sat on the counter, there were a few others in the kitchen near you but your focus was on Ellie. You watched as she mixed a few things and then poured some tequila into a glass, and handed it to you. You took a sip of the drink, your face immediately scrunching up. “Too strong?” she asked, laughing as she took the glass from you when you nodded, finishing it herself.

Ellie settled between your leg as you sat on the counter, she had a stupid grin on her face as she looked up at you. You were both definitely drunk by now, her hands holding onto your thighs as she talked to you about random things. “Did you know that Hydra is the biggest constellation in the sky?“ She asked you, “no i did not” you chuckled, it was cute that she was talking about constellations. You vaguely knew about her interests, she was usually more closed off, but being drunk definitely loosened her up. She was telling you about all of the constellations, a big stupid smile across her face. “And the smallest constellation is Crux” You hummed in response, now playing with some of her hair. You were both drinking out of a bottle at this point, it was absolutely disgusting. She was telling you about even more constellations til she was cut off by yelling.

“Oh fuck-“ Ellie muttered, grabbing your hand and helping you down from the marble counter. “We gotta go, no fuckin way am i getting an extra patrol i already did 6 this week” Ellie grunted before dragging you off through the house, finding the back door. You heard the yelling of the older adults and the groaning of the younger ones as the music was shut off and the alcohol was being taken. You and Ellie ran through the back yard, hopping one of the fences before running off just a little bit further, ending up in an alley. The two of you stopped, both gasping for breath, you both leaned against the wooden fence of the alley. Once you both caught your breath, all it took was another look at each other before you both bursted out laughing. “Jesse is so fucked! That was his house he can’t even run” Ellie laughed.

Once you both were able to contain yourselves, you both leaned against the fence silently for a moment. You felt Ellie’s body against yours, her shoulder pressing into yours. “How come you never come up to me?” Ellie asked, you could feel her gaze burning into the side of your head. You didn’t meet her gaze, “I guess i’ve just always been on the sideline of things, nobody really cares to talk to me and i’m afraid i’ll look like a fool if i just go up and talk to people randomly.” This time you did look at her, your head leaning against the fence as she spoke. “Well you can come up and talk to me anytime, i rather enjoy your company.” She said softly, her hand slowly brushed against yours. You didn’t say or do anything as her fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart raced, her hand was holding yours gently, rubbing circles into your hand with her thumb. You and Ellie still looked at one another, not speaking, just enjoying the closeness of one another.

Ellie’s free hand came up to hold your cheek gently in her hand as she leaned away from the fence and towards you, she was always so gentle when she touched you. You had seen Ellie be rough with most people, she was very assertive and would put people in their places. But not now, she was holding you so gently, it was hard to believe this girl was the same Ellie you knew. “You look so pretty” Was all she said, admiring every part of your face, smiling a little when she noticed you leaned into her touch in response. It wasn’t long until she pressed her lips to yours only for a couple seconds. Her lips were soft, not in their usual state of being chapped. She pulled away first, your eyes were still closed for only a moment more, savoring the feeling of her so close to you.

When your eyes opened she was looking at you, a small smile on her face. You smiled back, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Ellie said to you, your eyes widened slightly in response. “What?” You muttered, not believing what you had just heard. “I find you more interesting than any of the girls in Jackson. You’re different.” She said to you, your faces still so close to one another. She smelled of pine and alcohol, you assumed the pine was probably the cologne she’d wear sometimes. “Can I kiss you again?” Ellie asked, her voice soft, you nodded quickly in response. She laughed a little as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours once more.

This time, the kiss was heavier, Ellie moved so she was now infront of you, pushing your back onto the fence. Your hands met her waist as one of hers held your face while the other tangled in your hair. She tugged gently on your hair which caused you to gasp softly into her mouth. She took the opportunity and her tongue met yours as you aggressively kissed. Her right hand left your hair, making it’s way down your body, she grasped one of your breasts, kneading it softly. Her hand moved down, going under your shirt and back to your breast. She chuckled, pulling away for a moment, “No bra?” You rolled your eyes, “shut up and kiss me” You muttered, one of your hands pulling her face back to you.

Her hand left your breast, running gently down the skin of your stomach, this time her hand stopped at the button of your jeans. Just as her hand was about to dip into your pants she suddenly pulled it away, and detached her lips from yours. You groaned at the loss of her touch, “We’re both wasted, I don’t want to do anything if you’re not sober enough to consent” Ellie said to you, her gaze still burning into yours. You’d be lying if you said that her need for consent wasn’t making your heart flutter. “Such a tease, Williams” You muttered, a playful smirk on your face. She laughed, she grabbed your hand again and intertwined her fingers with yours.

“We should go now, it’s late” Ellie said, pulling you away by your hand. The two of you walked for a few moments before you ended up at the house you shared with your parents. Ellie pulled you in by the waist, she kissed you for just a moment on your lips. “See you around, pretty girl” She said softly, leaning in again to kiss your cheek swiftly before she pulled out of your arms. “Can we do this again sometime?” You asked her as she was backing away from you, “Of course” Was all she said before she turned around and walked briskly back to the small house she lived in a block away. You opened the door as quietly as you could, trying not to wake your parents and siblings. Obviously since you were 18 you could do what you pleased, but you weren’t about to get busted for the party.

Ellie actually kissed you. You couldn’t believe it, that night you lied awake, thinking about the girl, and the night you had with her. The flannel and tight shirt she wore, her tight jeans with some tears in it from her time out of the safe walls of Jackson. Her hair that was mostly down, but with some tied up in the back. The freckles that covered her face, her green eyes and her lips that were so soft against your own. Everything about Ellie was beautiful, you would do anything to make sure this night wasn’t just a drunk fling.

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you’d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you Forever

Chapter 2.1:

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Summary: Max and reader go shopping

Warnings: mentions of neglect and abuse

Notes: I was thinking of that scene from Stranger Things of Max and El in the mall while writing this.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Clothes are something that she’s never had a lot of. Hanna had taken her to get new clothes as soon as they got to Germany. It felt weird having new things. Things she got to pick out that weren’t ten sizes too big.

The store was overwhelming and she decided she didn’t particularly like shopping. She basically lived out of Seb’s old Ferrari shirts. The fact that she is now growing so much didn’t particularly help the clothing situation either. Proper nutrition means she can actually grow like a teenager should.

Max had noticed her particular hatred of the store early on. Seb had to drag her to go get new shoes after she’d worn hers so much she’d put holes in them.

That’s why he started offering to go with her. Maybe it was just to many unknown people. Maybe she didn’t know how to navigate the world of fashion.

Max went with the Vettle family the next time she had outgrown her clothes. So much to the point she was wearing his. It did nothing to help the crush he had on her that was growing at a steady pace. That pace is more rapid than he would like.

They went early in the morning to hopefully avoid people. She’s still shaking despite the lack of crowds.

“Can we go look around?” Max asks Seb. A hit of mischief swirls on his features.

Seb is a little hesitant. If only because leaving a fifteen and seventeen year old to their own devices is scary enough, and Max tends to make some impulsive decisions. Hanna instead gives them the go-ahead. “Just don’t do anything Seb would do, and you’ll be fine.” The older male feigns a look of hurt as Max drags the poor girl away.

“To look at clothes, obviously.”

“Where are we going?” Her voice is everything to him. She’s so quiet and gentle. He’d settled a few months into knowing her that if anyone were to ever hurt her, he would consider murder.

She groans. Max’s baggy t-shirt hangs loosely from her torso. As much as he’d love her to be in his clothes all the time, his dad may wonder why all his clothes are going. A conversation he would like to avoid having for now.

"One day maybe you can share my clothes, but for now you still need your own." Max can't help but notice the light blush that tints her cheeks at his words.

"I don't like it here."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Well..." She hesitates. As if debating whether or not to tell him. "It's just that every time my dad went to the store he brought back, uh -" She cringes.

Max squeezes her hand in reassurance. "I get it. But now we're going to make the store less scary."

Max drags her around racks of clothing. Nothing crazy, she looks at t-shirts three sizes too big and exclusively jeans made on soft materials.

"Now we get to try things on."

She reels backward away from him. Frantically shaking her head no. "It's small in there." He assumes she means the size of the normally cramped dressing rooms.

He thinks for a moment, doing his best to find a solution. "I think I have an idea."

~

When she woke up this morning, she didn't picture herself sitting outside the male dressing rooms.

Max has taken it upon himself to try on the clothes for her. Every few minutes, he comes out in a new T-shirt that actually fits him and jeans that definitely don't.

It's funny to watch, and she can't help but giggle every time he comes out in a different set of clothing.

"I think I pull this look of quite well!"

She laughs hysterically at the comment. Max looks like he can hardly move. "Max I- I think I want to try things on."

His eyes light up at her suggestion. Proud of himself for making dressing rooms seem less scary. "How about I walk you in since nobody else is here, and then I'll be right outside if you need me."

The next hour ensues a great many things. Namely, both of them are trying on weird outfits they put together and clothes that are definitely lacking in comfort. Both kids are out of breath when Hanna and Seb find them.

"I take it you two are having fun?" Seb laughs at the ridiculous clothing them have on. The girl shakes her head yes with vigor. "As great as that is, did you find anything you can actually wear?"

She points to the neatly folded stack of clothing. Seb and Hanna sigh in what she assumes is relief.

"Meet us at the register in a half hour, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Max nods his head towards Seb. When the two are out of view, they keel over once again in laughter.

Dressing rooms become much less scary after that. Mostly because Max goes with her every time and dillegently guards outside in case she needs help.

~

[eerna]

Hii wanted to bring this up to you because i love your tfota discussions(and other fandoms as well). i've noticed that a lot of the target audience for this series is very superficial and don't really appreciate and understand the series in its entirety but you always have great points.

so anywaysss with that being said. something that sort of made me side eye tpt a little was jude and cardan. obviously characters change overtime and i think the fact that jude and cardan sort of started to resemble each other in indirect ways is a nice little detail but i felt like some of their interactions were very unnatural. it felt like hb was feeding into how a lot of the audience sees them which isn't terrible but it feels the slightest bit out of character. like what did it for me specifically was in the end when jude excuses herself by saying she was going to go yell at people. i mean jude has always been very sarcastic and witty but it seemed weird for her to say that, it felt like one of those incorrect quotes. like yeah she probably would be yelling at people but would she really say that? like basically it's just very small things that seem like fan service more than intentional writing ya know? now don't get me wrong i love them and i shamelessly enjoyed all of their appearances i also think they were still pretty consistent as characters but it's basically that it seemed like things they said were only there to please the public which fed onto the whole superficial view the general audience has of them.

Hiiii! I definitely miss a lot of stuff so I wouldn't dare claim I get an entirety of anything, but I am very glad you enjoy my discussions nevertheless~

I get what you mean! For me it was that Jude "knife wife" line, and Cardan complaining about the snake thing. Knife-wife could have been funny if it was written smarter and not literally quoting a fandom meme. If we wanted to have a comedic moment where Cardan complains about something gross and Jude shuts him down, it could have been a new thing instead of an event that happened ages ago that we've seen on-page. It reads like a parody, the self aware "haha"s are so awkward. HOWEVER. In theory I wouldn't mind them being written as funnier than they used to be. Like you said, they are a decade older than the last time we've seen them, and they've solved most of the issues that made them not want to joke around during the trilogy. And it's also amusing bc HB said she had problems figuring out what an almost-thirty-years-old Cardan would be like, so the fact that she settled on "clown uncle" is hilarious.

Which leads me to my main problem with it: The things that make them fun aged-up epilogue versions of themselves also make them worse main characters. Jude and Cardan in their late 20s are by default much less interesting than Jude and Cardan in the middle of their young adult angst unsolved trauma roller coaster. They should join Roiben and Severin in the lineup of side characters that are still plot relevant, but no longer the center of attention, which would make their shallower presentation less noticeable.