#and then anything more than a few months old i always cringe at

[rolandkaros]

💖📥🧑‍🧒‍🧒🌝 for the ask game - shapovalovvs 💌

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

answered here!

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

honestly it changes a lot – usually it's just the most recent fic i've published, since i think i'm always proudest of my latest work. i think developing writing skills is a continual process, so it makes sense that the last piece that i've written (usually) contains what i consider to be my best writing.

👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? 

not actively, no. i don't hide the fact that i've done it in the past (i mention it sometimes if i'm talking to someone who also seems to be active in fandom or otherwise into fanfiction) but i don't usually talk about my current writing.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

holger and elena. from a writing standpoint, fascinating to me for more or less the same reasons but kind of in opposite directions.

[fuxuannie]

❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

[lowkeyremi]

Bakugo with the kids >:3 (bakugo x fem!reader)

This post was possible bc of @shima707 they commented on my bkg dad post for more so i decided to write more :D

"Daddy, Shoko's cryin' again." Mayako says shaking her father. Katsuki usually sleeps in on Sundays with you by his side but for some reason he's waking up upon the fact that the newest addition to the family is crying.

"Where's mommy at? Tell her to get Shoko." He mumbles under the covers. Mayako gets off the bed to open the blackout curtains which causes Katsuki to groan loudly.

"I looked for mommy but she's not here!!" Katsuki perks up at those words, where could you be early on a Sunday morning?

"She's not here? That's weird, she woulda told me if she was goin' somewhere." Mayako glares at her father, it's actually pretty ironic. Katsuki feels like he's staring at himself.

Your blond husband rises from bed to brush his teeth, this was not how he imagined his day would start.

"Can you get one of Shoko's clean bottles off the rack, Maya?" he asks between brushes.

"Mommy already made a bottle for her its in the fridge left with a note to warm it up." Katsuki finds it strange that you left without saying anything. The hero jogs his memory trying to remember if you said anything about going out on Sunday.

Once he's freshened up, he makes his way to the nursery with Mayako by his side like a little assistant or something.

"Your brothers 'wake yet?" He asks opening the nursery door, he is met by loud cries from his little one.

"I think Kaien is awake, not sure about Kitaro." Katsuki nods, he picks up his daughter with his washed hands. He wanted all of his kids to have K names like him but you argued it'd be too confusing. You agreed on both your sons having K names but you named Shoko and Mayako.

"Alright Shoko, that's enough crying." She's only about four months old which means aside from eating, pooping and peeing, crying is all she can really do. He cradles her and puts the bottle in her mouth. The cries stop immediately and she sucks on the bottle harshly.

"Daddy, please don't get mommy pregnant anymore. I'm tired of hearing crying everyday." She admits in a tired tone as if she's the one who cares for all the children. She does contribute to her siblings care though.

"Hah? I hafta hear crying every day, more than you did and how do you even know I'm the reason mommy has babies?" He's shocked to say the least, Mayako is only nine.

"Well for one mommy was always like 'I swear on my life all that man wants to do is get me pregnant' or 'I'm not having anymore of his kids after this one' so I asked Aunty Mina what she was talking about and she gave me as she called it 'a watered down version of how babies are made'." Mayako explained to her father. He should've known it was Mina.

He switched Shoko's postion so he could burp her, then he realized he needed her towel or he'd have spit up on his shirt.

"'N what exactly did Mina say?" He completely ignores that fact that you've complained about pregnancy, he's heard it all before. Whatever Mina told his daughter was something ridiculous he already knew it.

"She said that you slid your hotdog into mommy's bun and the mayo created a baby hotdog." Katsuki cringes hard. Out of all the things Mina could have told his daughter it had to be that.

"I hate that idiot so much." He mumbles. Shoko gives a good burp and a few coos. Katsuki adores the fact that Shoko has your eyes and your nose.

"Go tell Kaien to brush, Kitaro too if he's 'wake." Mayako gives a silent nod and stomps out of the nursery. Katsuki predicts that Kaien will come crying in a little bit, he and his sister clash often due to Mayako's firey temper and his softness.

He's determined to change Shoko's diaper and clothes before Kaien comes in crying.

Katsuki gets lucky and is able to start breakfast when Kaien comes crying in the kitchen. "Daddy, Mayako's being mean. I hate her!" He yells folding his arms.

"Woah kid, we don't say hate. Especially not about family." Katsuki says, he's in his 'Kiss the chef' apron in courtesy of you.

"You say hate all the time!" Kaien argues, and well, he's right. Katsuki doesn't want his child outsmarting him, though.

"That's cuz I'ma grown up." It's the best thing he can come up with at the moment. A father of four with his wife away can only do so much. He's got Shoko strapped to his chest while he's cooking.

Katsuki gets no respond from his son, so it's time to do some digging.

"What did your sister do, Kaien?" He was not at all prepared for Kaien's answer, he expected that she was bossing him around or something.

"S-she said that I can't use the spicy toothpaste because I'm a baby!" Spicy toothpaste? Oh, he must mean the mint toothpaste.

"What did you tell her?" He quickly scarmbles the eggs with the cooking chopsticks.

"I told her six isn't a baby and she said it is." Katsuki almost laughed, not at Kaien. It's just that cute little pout he has on his face.

"Maya-"

"Yeah?" She responds before her father can finish calling her name. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was lurking around the corner waiting to interject and say that her brother was wrong.

"Why can't Kaien use the spicy toothpaste?" The eggs are done so he plates them and checks on the rice. Shoko was drooling all over his collarbone even with her baby towel.

"Cuz he's only six, he should use the kid toothpaste." She says in her 'as-a-matter-of-fact' voice.

"Are you Kaien's ma?" Katsuki asks, he doesn't miss a beat while chopping the spring onions.

"No but-"

"Aht, no buts. You're not his ma so you can't go around telling him what to do. Unless of course, you're babysitting 'em." He sets the chopped onions aside and puts the rice and eggs into bowls. He makes sure all the servings are equal or he'll get complaints from his mini critiques.

"Mkay." She's sour right now.

"Where's Kitaro?" Katsuki garnishes the the food and sets it on the table.

"We both tried to wake him up but he kept saying he was tired." Mayako comments and sits in her normal spot.

"Ain't nothing for him to be tired for, he's eight." Mayako shrugs at her father's words and says thanks for the food. She and Kaien dig in.

Katsuki heads up the stairs, Shoko still strapped to him. His eyes scan the hallway and it's covered in toys. The blond makes a mental note for his kids to clean up later.

He walks over toys to reach Kitaro's room, the door's closed which isn't normal. You enforced the 'no closed doors' rule, unless someone's in the bathroom or changing.

He opens it half expecting Kitaro to be doing something bad. Instead the eight year old is snoring like he hasn't slept in years.

"Get up kid, time to eat. Go brush." He shakes Kitaro.

He just groans, pulls his covers over his head, and yawns.

"I'm tired." Katsuki raises a brow.

"Tired from what?" Once again, Kitaro's only eight, he can't be doing anything that energy consuming.

"Video games." He mumbles from under the covers.

"Tch, 's why you don't needta be playin' them. I don't know why that old hag got you a gaming system." Kitaro is sluggish getting out of the bed. Katsuki's watching him like a hawk. He watched him all the way until he was at the table.

He sees you sitting with Kaien in your lap eating some of his food because he's not likely to finish it.

"There's my baby girl!" You coo to Shoko. Katsuki undoes the baby carrier and takes her out of it. Those ruby red eyes scan your body for any indication of your activities this morning.

"Where have you been all mornin'?" Shoko babbles while Katsuki starts eating breakfast.

"I went to the gym, I'm trying to lose baby weight." You explain with a small smile.

"Tch, why's it matter? I'm your man 'n I like you the way you are." He never understood why you were so insecure.

"I'm not doing it for anyone besides myself." Kaien whines when you pick at his eggs.

"You aren't gonna eat them, little boy." You boop his nose and he tries to bite your finger.

"Too slow, Kai." He pouts, and it looks just like when Katsuki pouts.

"Why didn't ya tell me you were leavin'?" He huffs.

"Cuz you'd tell me I look good and convince me to stay." You're met by his silence which tells you you're right.

"Date night?" Katsuki asks with a sly smirk.

"No more babies!" Mayako protests.

"I agree- wait how do you-?!"

"Mina." Your husband and eldest daughter say at the same time.

"Oh I love her." It doesn't take a genius to know Mina probably told her some crazy watered down version of sex.

"Ki, hon, you look tired." He yawns at your words.

"He stayed up all night on that gaming system the old hag gave him." Your eyes widen.

"Katsuki! Your mom is not the 'h word' and I've been meaning to put parental controls on that thing." He rolls his eyes at your pg language when you normally have the mouth of a sailor when the kids aren't around.

"Whatever." The hero scoffs.

"Love you too, Kats!" You wink at him obnoxiously and he groans.

Thanks shima707 for giving me the motivation to write more, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first part! Love you guys and see ya next time <3

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy

Part 1:

You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.

Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.

So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.

The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.

So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.

Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.

“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”

“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”

“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.

“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”

But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves

Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.

And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.

“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.

Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”

“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”

“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.

Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.

“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”

You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.

And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.

For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.

Before or after you said I do.

But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.

Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.

An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.

No…

“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.

“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.

The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.

Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.

And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.

You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.

Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.

Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.

You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.

Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.

“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”

“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.

“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.

“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.

“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.

You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.

Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.

“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.

Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.

“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”

Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.

“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.

Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”

“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.

“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.

If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”

You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.

“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.

Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.

Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.

Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.

“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.

Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.

Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?

“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”

“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.

Moments that are very precious to both of you.

A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.

It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.

Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.

Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.

Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.

Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.

To Coriolanus’ baby.

Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.

Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.

And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.

“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.

The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.

“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”

“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.

“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.

Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.

Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.

After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.

“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.

“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”

Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”

A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”

Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.

Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.

“Cassian Xandros.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[coco-loco-nut]

Barnstormer

pairing: charles x reader

summary: charles can’t help but to fall for your small town charm

a/n: so @vitalverstappen and I have been grinding on this prompt for a while (i sent the jumble of ideas to V.V. after this being in my drafts for a few months). read the sister story linked at the end!

masterlist requests open

——————————

Once again, you are in your home country to race, only this time it’s in Austin. You spent the break on your family’s ranch back in Montana, riding your horse and reconnecting with nature. You always joked that you are the racing version of Hannah Montana.

“Y/n, it must be nice to be back home. You certainly look the part,” Laura starts your interview with F1TV.

“Ah, well Austin is much different than Montana. Two different types of cowboy, I’d say,” you are dressed like you just came from the stable. Boots, jeans, hoodie, hair in a braid, and your hat. A quick look says you aren’t a driver.

“How so?”

“Well, they like the spice down here much more, and I’d say that we are much more equipped to deal with snow. One thing I do know is that we both love a good rodeo,” you feel your hat be removed from you head as you speak. Turning to your left, you see Charles put it on his head.

“Yee haw, little lady,” Charles does what might be the worst Texas accent you’ve ever heard.

“Charles Leclerc, you did not just grab my cap by the brim. I don’t think you know what you just did,” you take your hat back, by grabbing the crown - you aren’t an animal, holding it at your side as to not make fans think anything of it.

“Well, I’ll let you sort that out,” Laura turns to the camera. “Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Y/n and Liam Lawson as we discuss being rookies, Lightning McQueen, and more,” Laura says, letting the camera cut away.

“Sorry we couldn’t get more of an interview, I gotta explain cowboy culture to Charles,” you cringe, pulling the Ferrari boys away. Charles listens as you ramble about how it’s rude to touch a hat, then straw versus felt and why despite it being past labor day you are wearing straw, and finally that his act of taking your hat could be seen as a sign of flirting. You reach the Alpine home and quickly dart inside.

“Mate, I don’t think she got it,” Carlos shakes his head as Charles groans.

“I’ve been trying all season, she just isn’t getting it,” Charles whines, sure you will never pick up on his flirting.

That night you take the boys to a bar just outside Austin that some friends back home recommended, they said it was where a lot of rodeo cowboys go. It does not disappoint, the neon offsetting the wood with Tim McGraw crooning on the speakers. You practically run to the bar to order your favorite cheap beer.

“Some of my friends said this is the best bar in town,” you yell over the music.

“Logan? He was your childhood best friend right?” Franco says, hoping that he got it right.

“Logan? No, although he is my friend. You really don’t know how far Montana is from here and Miami, huh,” you swig your beer before narrowing your eyes at the Argentinian. “Are you even old enough to be here? How did you get in?”

“Franco is 21, barely, but he is,” Alex says, a little put off by the place. Most of them did try to fit in, but everyone in the bar can tell they are tourists based off them wearing felt hats when it’s blistering hot outside.

“Oh, they have a bull,” your eyes light up as you quickly make your way to the mechanical animal. You don’t care if it’s embarrassing for you or the guys, you want to see them fall off.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Max asks, wary of the old machine.

“Sure, that’s what makes it fun. Why don’t you go first?” Your eyes challenge Max as a small crowd watches on, interested at the goings of your group.

“I, uh,” it doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that the boys are scared. You square your shoulders, finishing off your beer.

“Alright, but you’re missing out, it’s mighty fun,” you shrug, taking your hat off and setting it upside down on a table beside the operator. You hand him cash as you step onto the worn blue mats, eyeing up your worn, red competitor.

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea? I don’t want to explain to the team how you got hurt,” Pierre’s panic is evident even as the guys pull out their phones to film.

“Yeah no, I learned from the best. My hometown best friend is a champion rider,” you expertly mount the mechanical bull, unphased as it starts bucking. You hang on much longer than the boys would’ve, and when you feel yourself be about to get thrown off, you dismount with a flourish.

The guys are speechless beyond cheering for you as you put your hat on, heading back to the bar for another beer. Men tip their caps to you and you blush, a little overwhelmed by the attention.

Charles knows enough to know that you put on a show and have the interest of even more guys now. It doesn’t help that your boots and shorts show off your legs just right, and the tee you chose fits perfectly. Your hat adds a layer of mystery as it helps hide your eyes, but not your beautifully curled hair.

You don’t do much the rest of the night other than drink the guys into a hole, get violently drunk, and stand on a table singing Dolly Parton.

You pull up to the paddock the next day wearing a college football jersey, the school you’ve supported since you were a young kid.

“Texas or Georgia?” someone yells at you and you can’t help but step back in disgust.

“Neither, I’d rather die,” you yell back, despite not having a team in the SEC.

“How are you alive and still manage to look good,” Franco groans, walking beside you.

“Sheer will, and a bit of my mama’s secret recipe,” you grin.

“How does he do it?” Charles asks Max, watching Franco effortlessly flirt with you, even though Franco doesn’t realize he’s flirting.

“No idea. Have you talked to Mick, he’s pretty close with her. Maybe he has an idea,” Max shrugs.

“Mick? Like Mick Schumacher?”

“Yeah, they karted together. You could also just talk to her,” Max suggests, pushing his friend in your direction.

“So you are actually a cowgirl?” Charles asks you once Franco drops back to yap with Max.

“Yeah, my parents have a working ranch. I help out when I can, since they helped find people to house and train me throughout my career,” you smile.

“That’s so cool. You have your own horse too, right?”

“Yeah, do you want to see him? He’s a feral mustang that we domesticated, I’m thinking of breeding him with a quarter horse soon,” you pull up photos as Charles tries to understand everything you said.

“What a pretty rider,” Charles hopes you might pick up on an obvious flirt.

“Thanks,” the compliment barely registers in your mind.

“Maybe you could teach me how to ride sometime,”

“Oh, I was going to have Mick, Pierre, and Logan come up after Brazil. You should come too, hopefully we will beat the snow. There’s already been some, but if you bundle up you will be fine,” your smile melts Charles’s brain.

“Snow? Already?” Charles can’t imagine it, it hasn’t even been Halloween.

“Oh yeah, nothing like a warm cider and a fireplace though,” Charles can hear your accent come through.

“So are they dating?” Franco asks, observing how close you and Charles are standing.

“No.”

“But he likes her?”

“Yes.”

“And she likes him?”

“Hard to say,” Max shrugs.

“I am so confused,” Franco stares at you and Charles, it’s obvious you both like each other.

“Me too,” Carlos agrees, having come to retrieve Charles when he overheard Franco’s conversation with Max.

“Y/n is a smart woman, but she certainly cannot pick up on flirting,” Max shakes his head, walking off.

Charles did join you at your ranch before Las Vegas, with strict orders from his trainer on how to keep up with his training. Charles wasn’t expecting a whole complex of barns and houses. You could almost call it an operation.

They were all shoved in the back of your pickup, luggage safe on the bed of the truck, as you and a ranch hand chat in the front of the car.

“You boys are lucky there’s room in the main house during your stay,” the ranch hand had joked. Because the group arrived so late, it’s straight to bed for everyone. Everyone except you.

Charles is restless, and despite his better judgment, gets out of bed for a change of scenery. He walks into the living room, looking at family photos, school yearbook photos, and pictures of your races. Some of your first trophies are proudly displayed above the fireplace, as well as a picture from your first time in the points in F1. He takes in everything, it’s clear how proud your parents are of you.

Charles finds you on the porch, with a steaming mug and quilt thrown over your legs. You are staring at the sky, not really paying attention. He’s freezing, wearing more layers than you, but he sits beside you anyway. You hand him a spare quilt, which he thanks you for.

“It’s nice, to slow down out here, the open skies and quiet,” you break the calm silence.

“It seems busy around here,”

“You have to be. It’s a hard business, no days off. I’m lucky that we are a larger ranch and my family can afford things like my career. Most of my friends stay and work full time, some work for us now. The guys out there are just going in for the night to the bunk houses, they will be up at dawn ready to work,” you explain. Charles was right in that this is a business, and a large one.

“Makes me feel bad that we are here on a break then,” Charles rubs the back of his neck.

“Don’t be. Plenty of ranches book out guest houses for tourism, it’s good income. Plus, you are here as my guest. The town will love to meet new people,” you reassure him, reaching to pat his hand.

“So, I guess you really don’t know every city that we visit?” Charles grins. None of the drivers ever bothered to look up where you are from, so they joke that you know Miami, Austin, and Las Vegas like they are your home town. However, they’ve been taking it more seriously as of late.

“No,” you whisper, a hint of a smile on your face as you watch the snow fall. You find yourself tucked under Charles’ arm before you bid him goodnight, going to bed.

You are up early, eating breakfast with your family.

“What’s your plan for the day?” your mother asks as you help clear the table.

“I think a trail ride then go into town, I don’t want to impose too much, but I’ll probably show them around,” you say, thinking of a schedule.

“Why don’t you do a late lunch in town? I have some things for you to pick up,” you agree with her idea.

“Go ahead, Mama, I’ll clean up,” you say, knowing there is administrative work to do.

The boys meander down about an hour later as you are finishing baking a bread you started yesterday.

“Morning boys,” you wipe your hands as they stand cluelessly in the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll whip you up something quick,” you motion to the kitchen table as you head to the fridge.

“Do you need help?” Logan asks, but your look quickly tells him to shut up.

“Coffee’s in the pot if you want some, milk in the fridge, food will be ready in a few minutes,” you wave the offer off.

“What’s your plan for today?” Mick asks, quickly taking to the coffee.

“I’ll take you on a trail ride and tour around some of the ranch, then we will go into town and grab lunch. After dinner we can go to the bar if it isn’t too bad out,” you look out the window, most of the snow has melted off already, but you can never be too careful. The boys quickly eat what you serve them and you take them out to the barn.

“Need help?” Charles asks as you blanket and saddle four horses, one he recognizes as yours. It’s impressive, watching you easily sling the heavy saddles on.

“Hold these, stand still,” you hand him the reigns, making sure he is in a safe position.

“Are you wearing chaps?” Mick notices the tan leather covering your jeans.

“Yes, and you all should too. You will thank me later when the wind isn’t biting at your legs. We should have some extras, hang on,” you grab a few pairs and tell the boys how to wear them.

“This is quite fashionable, I should’ve worn them in Austin,” Charles twists his legs, looking at the western wear. You just shake your head and continue getting the saddles ready.

“This is weirder than I thought,” Logan says, a little uncomfortable in the gear as you help him mount the horse.

“Sit up straighter, and widen your legs a little,” you fix his feet as you speak, adjusting the saddle and stirrups. You help each of them mount the horses you saddled before mounting your own horse.

You start with the tour before the trail ride, and the boys are feeling a little sore from the trotting as they dismount.

“I’m impressed your hat stayed on,” Mick says as he feels his muscles ache.

“That’s the point of a proper fitting hat. You can tell your trainers you had your workout for the day. Come on,” you make them follow you to the truck. As you get into town, you get stopped every other minute, being asked how you are and who your friends are. The boys look around the small store as you pick up your mother’s order.

“You and your boyfriend make quite the handsome couple,” the clerk, a church friend of your mother, says. She observes your startled face and smiles. “The one with brown hair, he seems very protective of you,” you look at Charles and catch his eye, causing both of you to look away with a blush.

“We aren’t dating, he’s a friend that I race with. They all are,” you deny, but you can’t help but wonder why your heart skipped a beat at the accusation.

“Sure honey, but you should see the way that boy looks at you,” you take the package, mind spinning.

“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson,” your voice is quieter as she pats your hand.

“You take care now, don’t forget about your roots when you become a big star,”

“I’ll dedicate my first win to you all,” you smile, taking a step away from the old oak counter.

“Good girl. Watch out on the roads tonight,”

“Yes, Ma’am,” when you approach the guys you notice how you and Charles naturally gravitate towards each other, but you are quick to distract yourself before you think too much about it.

“Everything alright?” Mick asks, poking your head. You swat away his hand as he goes to poke you again. Logan and Charles are trailing you, talking about something that you couldn’t care less about.

“Yeah, just thinking about something the shop owner said,”

“That Charles likes you?” Mick says, you huff and walk a little faster.

“He doesn’t though, Mickie. We are just friends, he’s never even flirted with me. Besides, I don’t even like him like that, and I would NEVER date someone on the grid,” lies, well mostly. The grid part is pretty true, that’s a mess you don’t wasn’t to touch. Mick can read you like a book, he’s your best friend and basically your brother. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into a side hug as you walk.

“He flirts with you endlessly, you are just too blind to see it. Meine Liebe, he is so in love with you that he would crash someone out for you,” Mick looks at you, watching the gears in your brain turn.

“Well, if he is flirting with me that much, he really needs to step up his game,” you look at the sky, then to Mick.

“It’s a shame you are basically my brother, why can’t we date?” you groan, Mick loudly laughs.

“Alpine would hate that, can’t have two of their drivers dating,” Mick lowers his arm, poking your side.

“They are separating us, but our love shall prevail,” you carry on, enjoying the antics.

“Even Mick flirts with her easier than me,” Charles groans, looking at Logan for backup.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but they are literally the definition of siblings separated at birth. They joke like that all the time, he’s just her best friend,” Logan shakes his head.

“So there’s a chance?”

“Not with your flirting,” Logan pats Charles’s shoulder as they approach your truck.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, there is a storm coming,” you turn the key in the ignition, watching the boys get in the truck. Logan calls shotgun, leaving Charles and Mick in the back.

“Who let dying cats sing?” Mick teases you and Logan as you sing along with a country song, earning him the bird from both of you.

“Alright boys, wash up and then be down here for dinner. We won’t wait for you,” you say as you park the truck. Charles grabs the package for you, carrying it inside.

“I’ll take that, son,” your dad grabs the package from Charles as you walk through the door. “Y/n,” you follow his beacon, leaving the boys alone.

“Well, I will see you all in a bit,” Mick heads to his room, it’s obvious that he’s visited before.

Much to Charles’s dismay, he makes no progress on the flirting end for the rest of the week. When you get to Las Vegas, you are swept up in media and team duties. Charles sees more of Pierre than he does of you that weekend. He does notice when you post on Instagram.

instagram

y/username brought the boys home with me, still wouldn’t call them cowboys

mickschumacher to be fair, Logan and I fit in pretty well, Charles though…

charlesleclerc hey!

y/username charlie… you still don’t know how to wear a hat correctly

alpinef1team we 🫶 our cowgirl (and Cowboy Mick)

mercedesamgf1 our* Cowboy Mick 🤠

scuderiaferrari it’s okay Charles, even if you aren’t a cowboy, we still love you (Mick was ours first, back off)

charlesleclerc hey! you are supposed to be on my side

mickschumacher love the support guys 💙🩵❤️

user29 the shared admin parenting 😭

y/username charlie, it’s okay, not everyone is cowboy material

user aww, she brought Logan with her. best former grid friendship

user4 so we are ignoring the part where she got them all to wear chaps?

logansargeant you hear that mick? i’m better than you

mickschumacher impossible, i’m literally her best friend

y/username and they looked wonderful in them 🥰 (i love you two equally)

user2 poor charles, always forgotten even if they weren’t friends until recently

charlesleclerc best cowgirl and teacher in Montana ❤️

y/username only Montana? i’m wounded, you’re uninvited from the next trip

Mick hung around, pulling double duty for Mercedes and Alpine. He watched the race from the Mercedes garage, a tense place to be during the race. The Mercedes team qualified poorly in Q3, leaving them in the midfield. Logan accompanied him, an odd sight for most fans.

You had qualified well, with you and Pierre in P6 and P7 respectively. A crash up front took out Max and Lando, leaving the two of you in a battle with Oscar, Charles, and Carlos. A late safety car and a well timed undercut allowed you to move into P2, fighting for the win with Pierre right behind you. With five laps left to go, you find luck on your side once more. Oscar locked up, giving you just enough room to overtake him. When you cross the line five laps later, you feel tears running down your face.

“We did it, holy shit! Great work team, I’m so proud of you guys. This win is for the huge support network I have back home - I told you I’d dedicate my first win to you, and it’s for this team who has struggled and fought to be in the position to win races again,” you say on the radio as you take your cool down lap, waving to fans as you drive past.

The feeling of standing on top of your car is like nothing else, the crowd electric with you first win, a home win.

Pierre pulls into P3, quickly hoping out to embrace you, rubbing your helmet.

“We did it! You are amazing!” Pierre cheers.

“Finally a podium for us,” you agree, joining Pierre in heading to the barricades to celebrate with the team.

Charles makes his way to where you are putting on your team hat and sipping water a few minutes later.

“Welcome to the home win club,” he hugs you, wishing he was on the podium too.

“Thanks, Charlie. Sorry, I’m just so overwhelmed,” you smile but tears start to flow out of your eyes again. This is likely the only win you will ever get, and you know that.

“Amour,” his voice is soft and sympathetic as he wipes the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve every bit of this win, you drove so well,” he reassures you as you nod, sniffing the tears away.

“Interview time, champ,” Pierre grabs you, pulling you towards Guenther. He quickly shoots Charles a look that says he’s talking about this later. Pierre is protective of his teammate, and he isn’t scared to rip into his childhood friend if needed. You watch Pierre speak, then Oscar, before it’s your turn. They wait for you, not wanting to leave you vulnerable to the media.

“Y/n, first off, congratulations on a monumental win. How are you feeling?” Guenther asks, his voice jovial. He watched you grow as a driver in the Ferrari program, so he feels a bit proud.

“Overwhelmed, mainly,” you laugh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I, uh, carry the legacy of many women before me, those who drove, served as test and reserve drivers, and affiliated drivers. I really hope this win made them proud and make the girls driving in lower formulas know they can succeed here too,” you say, still breathing a bit heavier.

“That was one heck of a drive, how were you able to take the win?”

“A lot of luck, and confidence. I knew that I had to take some risks, especially on that overtake and defending the last few laps. I’m glad that Max and Lando are okay, those collisions aren’t fun,”

“One more question and then I will let you get your trophy. How will you take this confidence into the last two races?”

“Just keeping the energy up with the whole team. They’ve worked hard to get Pierre and I on the podium, and it’s nice to see it pay off, especially at my home race. You never really know when you will get to the podium, so I think we will just cherish this and hope the points keep coming,” you say, relieved to be done with interviews for now.

“Thank you, congratulations again,” Guenther says, letting you go. You give a wave and disappear to where Pierre and Oscar await.

“An all Alpine podium,” Mick teases, waiting around the bend for you.

“Former, but I guess it counts,” Oscar smiles as you launch yourself at your best friend.

“I’m so proud, meine Liebe, and I know Dad is too,” he hugs you tightly. Mick lets you go a moment later, promising to see you after the podium.

The cooldown room is nice, you relax in the chair as Oscar and Pierre chatter, watching the race highlights.

“Nice defending, you were a brick wall against Charles,” you fist bump Pierre.

“Ready?” Oscar asks, dragging you out of your seat. Pierre is the first out and onto the podium. “Just breathe, this is your moment,” Oscar reminds you before stepping out. Before you know it you are being drenched in champagne.

“This is just the start of the celebrations, mon amie,” Pierre says, wrapping an arm around you as you head back to the motorhome.

“Drinks on me tonight,” you cheer, ready to shower off the champagne and get media over with.

You are one of the last to arrive at the club, mostly because your phone died and you had to wait on it to charge. However, that just means you had more time to pregame, and you did.

“Oscar!” you drunkenly cheer, wrapping your arms around the Aussie.

“When did you get here? Are you already drunk?” he asks, trying not to laugh.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “I drank with Logan,”

“Logan is here?!” Oscar looks around the room, trying to spot his friend.

“No, silly, he’s in Miami. He was on the phone, duh,” you walk towards the bar, ordering a round of shots for your friends and you. You don’t hesitate in downing it, ordering a drink to take with you back onto the floor.

“How much have you had to drink?” Franco asks, wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Mmmm, five shots,” you giggle then poke his cheek, pushing his face a bit due to your sloppy motions. “You’re cute, just a babbyyy,”

“You are very pretty as well, how’d you know I have a thing for older women,” Franco flushes, the flirting coming out of nowhere. He honestly thought that you and Charles were dating, but he can’t help that he’s a natural flirt.

“Pierre! George!” you walk away before he can even process everything. You are off to do more shots, intending to get fucked up.

“You okay?” Max asks, quickly replacing you at Franco’s side.

“Y/n was just here, she’s an odd drunk, can she even drink that much?” Franco asks, very confused.

“She brought Tennessee moonshine to a race last year and she out drank Valtteri. I didn’t realize she’s been here,” Max looks around, searching for you.

“Whatever she drank earlier was strong then. Aren’t she and Charles dating? Why was she flirting with me?”

“Who knows,” Max shrugs, leaving Franco confused and alone as he spots you back at the bar in the VIP section the drivers reserved.

“You are cut off for now,” Max shakes his head as he stands beside you, taking the drink from your hand and keeping it for himself.

“Charlie! Tell Max to give me my drink back,” you pout, crossing your arms as you lean back against the bar, stumbling a little as your back hits the edge.

Charles’s eyes rake across you in concern as he quickly reaches out to steady you. He looks away at Max to get a silent read on the situation.

“Amour, how much have you had to drink? Didn’t you just get here?” Charles is more worried that you may have been drugged, no one acts like that after one drink.

“Five shots,” Charles watches you count on your fingers, holding up seven of them.

“And here?”

“Um, three shots and a drink. I just got here fourty minutes ago,” your words slur together as dizzying lights flash around the bar. The change in music tells everyone that Lando got behind the DJ booth.

“You are cut off for the hour, go dance some of it off then I will buy you a new drink,” Max says, winking at Charles. Before he can respond, you are dragging Charles onto the dance floor.

“You are a terrible flirt. You know who told me that you like me? Mickie,” you poke Charles’ chest as you dance close to him. Charles wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close but providing support.

“It must’ve worked if you know now,” Charles leans down slightly, voice low against the pulsing music. You tilt your head up more, looking at him through hooded eyes, his body moving against yours as the bass builds up.

“No,” you say, lips centimeters away from brushing against his as the beat drops. “You need to work harder to earn me,” you slip out of his arms, going to find your aforementioned friend, leaving Charles alone and horny.

You find yourself back at the bar, no one there to stop you from drinking more. Well, that is until Mick shows up right before the bartender walks back over to you.

“Let’s celebrate the win, if you drink any more right now you will puke in 10 minutes,” Mick pulls you away, back to the other drivers. Fuck Charles, the bar is your one true love and Mick is denying you it.

“Here,” Lewis hands you a drink which you happily take. It’s just a mocktail, but you don’t know that.

“To our cowgirl and her first win!” Carlos toasts, cheers ringing out across your group. You catch Lando sneaking away back to the DJ booth, and you quickly follow.

“Lando, let me play a song,” you beg, and who is Lando to deny you after your first win? The grid gravitates towards the two of you as Lando helps you set yourself up.

“What are you playing?” Lando yells as you quickly pull up your song. Your devilish grin tells him everything as he helps you blend it into the song currently playing. The song slows as a low “tu tu tu tu” rings out, the lights turning in to focus on Max.

“Is this because I took away your drink?” Max yells, embarrassed and a little annoyed even though he thinks it’s funny. The rest of the guys are singing along, teasing Max. That’s the last thing you remember.

You wake up groggy on the couch of your hotel room, Mick in the bed. Based on the weird feeling in your mouth, you were puking before you fell asleep. Stumbling, you cross the room and crawl into bed beside Mick.

Mick wakes you up a few hours later, cup of coffee in hand.

“How much do you remember of last night?” he asks as you lightly groan, launching into your past memories.

You virtually sit down for a podcast later in the week to discuss your win.

“How does it feel going viral?” The one podcaster asks after you discussed your career and fighting in the midfield.

“Viral? Honestly, I’ve been so busy since the win that I haven’t been on social media,” you laugh, very confused.

“Gen Z has taken to you, you are all over TikTok and Twitter,”

“That’s wild, thanks Gen Z,” you smile, giving the camera a little salute.

“The after party seemed fun,”

“From what I remember, it was. It’s always a good time going out with the guys. Can I confess something?”

“Please do,” the podcaster says, eager for some gossip.

“I thought Franco was too young to be out with us. The first time he showed at the bar in Austin, I genuinely thought he was about to be thrown out,” you say, letting the conversation stay of that for a bit.

“So, a photo of you and Charles dancing at the club after your win went viral. We asked him about it and this is what he had to say,”

“Oh yeah, we’re dating, didn’t you know?” Charles says, looking quite serious, but you know it’s a joke, at least you think it is.

“Haha, yeah we are engaged, almost got married in Vegas. Didn’t you know?” you joke, stifling a laugh.

The podcast blew up and Alpine ate it up. The media team was quick to partner with Ferrari to do a couples challenge in the Alpine motorhome. You quickly leave once it’s done, escaping to your driver’s room. Charles follows you, sitting beside you as you take a deep breath.

“Sorry, it’s all a bit overwhelming. I am from a small town, I’m just not used to this type of attention,” you say and Charles holds your hands, providing comfort as electricity courses through you.

“You don’t have to be. Your fans think you are perfect, I think you are perfect,” Charles says, your eyes meeting his, searching for signs that he isn’t telling a lie.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you forever. You are beautiful, and kind, and smart,” Charles trails off as his eyes flicker to your lips. His right hand finds itself moving from your hand to your cheek. He leans in, lips brushing yours as he hesitates - waiting for you to take action.

You tilt your head up, mind spinning as you take in his scent and the moment. You don’t waste another moment, pressing your lips to his. Charles tenderly pulls away after a minute, resting his forehead on yours.

“I didn’t lie in that interview, amour, you are my cowgirl,” he says softly, a hint of relief in his voice.

“Yours? Oh no, Charlie, you will have to work harder to win that,” your sly smile tells him that the challenge isn’t over yet as he leans in to kiss you again.

“My stubborn, stubborn cowgirl,”

Can’t get enough? Check out @vitalverstappen’s sister story ⬇️!

[lustnhim]

‘ grown. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: requested + elvis is a family friend / warnings: MDNI, p in v sex, loss of virginity, risk of being caught, pervy elvis, oral m-receiving, inconspicuous touching, elvis kinda coerces reader, panty stealing elvis cause its my fav, prob typos. / summary:  your dad and elvis are really close friends so when elvis invited your whole family over to graceland for the 100th time, you didn’t expect much more than another boring evening

“Now I want you to be on your best behavior while we’re here.” Your mother said, looking at you from the rearview mirror. Scoffing, you kept your gaze fixed out the window, watching the passing trees. “I always am. You don’t have to tell me that everytime we go over.” You say, causing your father to chime in too. “Honey, your mother doesn't mean anything by it, we know you’re a good kid.” Shaking your head gently you let out a soft sigh, “And I ain’t a kid anymore.” You said under your breath, knowing that they probably heard you anyway.

As your family pulled into Graceland for what felt like the hundredth time, your eyes wandered the familiar landscape. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of boredom, despite the grandeur of Elvis' estate. His house was huge, much bigger than yours, but you had been in every room a gazillion times– It was nothing exciting anymore. A familiar figure approached your car as you got out; Elvis Presley, your dad's old buddy, was dressed a black shirt with a flowered pattern and black pants, he looked a little bit different since you last seen him- but then again that was a few months ago so he couldn’t have changed that much. Elvis brought your father into a hug and shook his hand before turning to your mother who he kissed promptly on her cheek. Your mother fussed over Elvis, babbling about how great it was to see him again. He flashed his million-dollar smile, a sign he was glad to see her too.The three talked a bit as they walked to the front door before he turned around, his piercing gaze seemed to linger on you for a moment longer than usual, making you feel a bit uneasy. “I’m sorry Darlin’ I ain’t even talked to you yet.” He said, walking over to you a strange smile on his face. “My, my…how you’ve grown.” He said, causing you to cringe a bit internally. “It’s only been a few months since we last came over-” You replied, laughing nervously. Pulling you into a hug which lasted a few moments too long he pulled away before walking back inside. 

You noticed a few other men who were all sitting in the living room which you recognized as his “Memphis Mafia”, you followed behind your parents and Elvis as he led them to the backyard. The aroma of BBQ filled the air, and laughter echoed as children played around. You meandered to find a spot to relax while your family talked to Elvis. You watched as the men from the Living Room slowly pooled outside. You noticed a few of them taking short glances at you making you feel a little nervous.Your father motioned you over and reluctantly you got up and walked over to the group of men he was speaking to. “My daughter here graduated high school not too long ago, top of her class too!” Your father bragged, pulling you close to him in an awkward side hug. You listened as the men all said their own praises to you, words of ‘congratulations’ and ‘good jobs’ but you noticed Elvis was staying oddly silent. Once your father started talking about other things you silently excused yourself back to your chair away from everyone else. 

You stayed away from the crowd as much as you could, hiding behind your sunglasses you couldn’t help but feel eyes on you most of the time. “Honey! Food’s ready!” You heard your mother call out, setting food on a table under a canopy as the other women scrambled to get their kids to sit down. Walking to the table you took a seat towards the end, your mother placing a plate of a burger and some chips in front of you. You looked around and saw everyone else getting their food, and you nibbled on some chips silently before you heard a gentle sigh and some scuffling beside of you. It was Elvis, sitting his plate down and smiling at you gently. “Well hello there stranger.” He teased, as your mother and father sat across from the two of you. “Been awfully distant today,” he said, taking a bite of one of his burgers. “Ah, yeah- Just tired.” You responded a bit dryly. “Pay her no mind, Elvis…she’s moody.” Your mother said, shooting you a look. 

As you ate in silence, your parents, Elvis and a few of the men all engaged in conversation, talking about music, family, politics and everything in between. You dissociated a bit, not really paying attention till you felt something against your thigh. A quick, fleeting touch, but one that made you jump. Looking down at your legs you noticed Elvis’ hand laid awfully close to your leg. You looked up at Elvis who was smiling, staring at you parents who talked his ear off about any old thing. Excusing it as just an accident you continued eating, but more tuned in this time. It wasn't long before you felt it again, this time it wasn’t just a graze of his fingers, his hand was resting on your thigh. You tried not to move too much, acting like you didn’t notice, but you felt his thumb drawing circles on your skin. Your face flushed as you tried to grab your drink, almost spilling it in the process. “Watch out!” Your father warmed, catching the drink before it spilled. “Sorry!” You replied, cursing yourself. You heard Elvis chuckle, his hand squeezing your thigh under the table.You winced internally, trying to play it cool as your heart raced. For a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your heart. You focused on the conversation at the table, hoping Elvis would give up and stop. You took a deep breath as your father started to joke about something, the entire table laughing, including Elvis. When the laughter died down, you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under the table, creeping closer to your core. Your eyes widened, and you froze, unsure of what to do. 

Just as his middle finger brushed against your panties causing your chair to scrape against the grass. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Your parents looked at you curiously, but Elvis merely smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively. You didn't look back as you walked away, your heart pounding harder with every step. You couldn’t believe what was happening, you rushed into the house and went to the bathroom. Looking at your face in the mirror, god. You were blushing like crazy…your body shook a bit as you turned on the sink, splashing a bit of water on your face to try and fight the warmth that ran through your body. Wiping your face off you heard a knock at the door causing you to jump. “Yeah?” You called out, your heart rate quickening. “It’s me…” The voice said, and you felt your legs grow weak. “Elvis?” You asked and you heard a small laugh from the other side. “Yes, Darlin’...I think you and I need to talk…just the two of us.” You hesitated, not knowing what to do or even say, what would he want to talk about anyways? You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, seeing Elvis face to face. “Okay.” You said plainly, making him smile. “M’kay honey.” He said, moving away from the doorframe, allowing you to walk out. He placed his hand on your lower back as he led you through the house to the empty living room. The sounds of laughter and the chatter of the party faded away, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. 

Elvis led you to a plush sofa, arranging you to sit on the edge while he positioned himself beside you. His hands rested gently on his knees, smiling at you he let out a soft groan. "I wanted to say sorry...." He started, his tongue flicking across his lips nervously. “I- I watched you grow up n’ Lord knows how guilt I feel for….thinkin’ about you.” Elvis confessed and you shifted nervously on the couch, something about his tone, his voice wasn’t genuine. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman…and I- I don’t think I can help myself around you.” You tried to respond, tried to say anything but you couldn't find the words. You didn’t know how you felt. You didn’t know what you wanted. God knows you thought he was handsome, but something felt…wrong. “E-Elvis I don’t know what to say…” You finally managed to say, fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously.” Elvis leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "You don't need to say anything, darlin'. Just let me show you how much I want you." As he spoke, Elvis reached out and cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his other hand slipped under your dress, finding its way to your core. You gasped into the kiss, your hand pushing at his chest gently– unsure of what to do. You felt yourself involuntarily melt into the kiss, your hand sliding down his chest to his lap. Easing yourself into the kiss you felt his hands snake up the back of your dress, rubbing your back before snapping the back of your bra off with ease. Pulling away he smiled, “Atta girl.” He said, sliding your bra off from under your dress. Guiding your hand to his crotch, his erection pressing against your palm, you cupped it gently. “Get down on the floor honey…on your knees.” He said, leading you gently down between his legs. "Look so good…" he whispered huskily.

You looked into his eyes and began to unbutton his pants. Elvis helped you out, freeing his length from his boxers. He was larger than what you expected, making you hesitate. "Don't worry, baby," he said, stroking your hair. "Just put it in your mouth.. We gotta hurry, don’t wantcha daddy to see his only daughter down on her knees" His words sent a jolt down your spine. You hesitated for a moment longer before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, looking up at him he urged you to go deeper. Taking his cock into your mouth you struggled to fit most of it- feeling his hand grip your hair he moaned as you began to bob your head, your hand gripping his base. Elvis's thrusts became more urgent, his hand tightening in your hair, urging you to take in more of his length. The sound of his desperate moans filling the room. "That's it, baby... take it all," he encouraged you. You found yourself glancing at the doorway, hoping and praying no one would catch the two of you. Elvis groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum…" he warned you, his voice hoarse. In a moment, his release flooded your mouth, the warm sensation spreading throughout as he filled you. The orgasm sent waves of pleasure through him, and he pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath. Small bits of cum dribbled out of your mouth, wiping it gently you looked up at him, his still semi-hard cock twitching gently. “Take off your pannies’ honey.” Elvis ordered, licking his lips and stroking himself lightly. 

You struggled to stand, your legs wobbly but you managed to get to your feet. Lifting your dress a bit and sliding off your underwear, you felt the wetness between your legs almost immediately begin to pool onto your inner thighs. Embarrassed, you stood there, your dress raised and your cunt exposed. Letting out a shaky whimper Elvis smirked, moving over to make room for you on the couch. “Come lay down, sweetheart.”  You did as you were told, laying back on the couch as Elvis positioned himself between your legs,your dress pulled up to your chin. "Legs up, darlin', spread 'em wide for me." He demanded, and you obliged, hooking your ankles together, giving him full access to your wet, aching pussy. You looked away in embarrassment as he ran his fingers gently across your swollen clit. “You a virgin?” He asked, and you nodded. You watch as his smile grows wider. "Fuck, you're so ready for me." He said, rubbing the head of his cock over your swollen lips, teasing you. Without warning, he thrust himself inside, filling you in one smooth motion. You gasped, the sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The pain flooded your body in an instant, slamming your eyes shut you let out a pained moan. “Shhh now..” Elvis whispered, rubbing your clit gently. Elvis began to pump his cock into you, his thrusts slow, but deliberate. Each one sent shivers down your spine as waves of pain turned to pleasure. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate, claiming kiss, as his pace quickened. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as his thrusts grew more aggressive. The sound of wet slaps filled the empty room, both of your breathing ragged in unison. "Fuck, you're tight... so damn tight." Elvis said through gritted teeth, his hips slamming into you. You moaned into the crook of his neck, desperate to make as little noise as possible. 

You felt yourself nearing the edge, the pressure building within you. "Elvis..." you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence. He nodded, understanding, and began to thrust into you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting your sweet spot, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy clenching around him. "Fuck, such a good girl..." Elvis groaned, his thrusts growing even more erratic. Elvis slammed into you one final time, groaning loudly as his release filled you without warning. His hot seed spilled into your quivering cunt, triggering another wave of pleasure that left you breathless. He pulled out of you and collapsed onto you, his breath ragged. You lay there, your body humming, as the reality of what you just experienced sunk in. Elvis crawled off of you, tucking himself back in his pants as you adjusted your dress back down and stood up, almost falling. Elvis chuckled and grabbed your hand.  "Where are my panties..?" You asked, looking around the floor for them.

“Souvenir.”

i might be slow posting fanfics for a bit, i really haven’t been feeling well lately BUT THAT OKAY. okay love u guys <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @18lkpeters @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @mysteriouslymagicalwolf @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @elvisalltheway101 @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 (if you wanna be added or removed lmk!)

[sapphichotmess]

Always, Johnny

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader (Bonnie)

requested by @cas-backwards-tie

sorry for the long wait for this. funny enough, i have been in a depression and trying to write this (or anything) has been too much.

18+ mdni (my blog is 18+)

2k+ words

Warnings: awful writing + depression and what comes with it

It’s been months since Johnny was deployed. 

At first, you were happy to keep texting when you could, maybe even a call or Facetime sprinkled in somewhere. But the happiness died after the first week alone in a seemingly colossal house. The rooms felt too big, too many. You barely move from the couch to the spare bedroom—you couldn’t stomach laying in your and Johnny’s shared bed, smelling his sweat and cologne embedded in the sheets from nights—and days—of sleeping and fucking. 

Your phone lies uncharged on the living room floor, tossed in frustration, when yet another concerned text from Johnny popped up on the blank screen you are mindlessly staring at. The laptop you usually use to write is also lying uncharged somewhere—you don’t know or care where. You have called in to work multiple times this month, guilt gnawing at your empty stomach; you haven’t been able to stomach much more than a few nibbles of food if you gather the strength or motivation to get off the couch or spare bed, let alone make something to eat. 

At the thought of food, your stomach grumbles angrily. At the sound, you sigh heavily, a shaky hand dragging through greasy strands of hair, causing you to cringe in disgust. You need a shower badly, but you just couldn’t get yourself to take one. If you got enough courage to drag your feet into the bathroom—maybe once a day, if that—you had just enough motivation to relieve your bladder and no more; just the thought of a shower made you even more exhausted. 

Not only are you a mess—oily hair and skin, pimples popping up across your face from hormones and lack of cleansing, and week-old clothes rumpled and creased with over-use, stains splattered across t-shirt and sweatpants—but the house is too, despite its lack of use. In the kitchen, barely-eaten pre-packaged foods are sitting on the counter, dirty cups, plates, and utensils practically overflowing the sink, the trash can overflowing with paper plates and food packages, some in a pile at its base. The living room is in a similar state, with used tissues dotting the carpeted floor because the trash was full, multiple blankets scattered and balled up on the floor and couch, half-drank bottles of juice or water on any surface available, and pillows thrown about every which way. The plants across the house look wilted and sad from not having water. To top everything off, you have every light in the house off and windows blocked by curtains or blankets; not a drop of light is able to penetrate the coffin you made yourself. 

Except for Johnny. 

Johnny has been concerned about your lack of reply for weeks. Even while he was in active combat, his mind was on you. He knows how you can get, how your mood can plummet during this time of year, and your distance has scared him. His mind races with thoughts of what he would find when he got home—whether you were alive or not. 

As his boots tread heavily on the gravel path up to their shared house, his heart races and pounds against his ribcage, raging to get out. He is terrified to open the door and find you lying in the middle of the living room, chest still and beautiful eyes closed. His notifications have been painfully empty of responses from you, and your chat is full of increasingly concerned texts from him. 

He opens the white, wooden door with shaking hands. His lungs deflate of breath when he spies your hair piled over the arm of the couch, hanging limply. He rushes over, footfalls echoing across the empty house, not bothering to take his clunky boots off, close the door, or be quiet. Johnny doesn’t care about waking the neighbors or disturbing any wildlife around. He just wants to get to you. 

Army-regulated boots thud to a stop in front of the couch, scarred, callused hands shaking as they cup your jaw tenderly, long middle and pointer fingers placed on your pulse. Hair moves with a shaky gust of air, and a chest deflates. 

You are alive. You are here in his hands, pulse thundering under his fingers, eyes blinking open, and lashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blinking your eyes a couple of times, you focus on the weight on your jaw. A breath of air flutters across Johnny’s palm as you nuzzle further into his warmth. It takes you a minute to hear the sound of staggered breathing coming from in front of you, but when you do, your eyes snap open. 

Your boyfriend is standing there in his civilian clothes, chest heaving and straining against his black hoodie. It takes another minute for your brain to process what is happening—Johnny’s home. 

With the most energy you have had since he left months ago, you leap off the couch and launch yourself into his strong arms. As soon as his strong, muscled arms tightly grip you, you open the floodgates. Your hiccup with every breath and your blotchy face feels hot to the touch as you grip Johnny like a lifeline. 

He is your lifeline. 

And he just holds you tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as he trails a hand up to the back of your head, cupping it and holding your face against his neck. He doesn’t care about the tickling feeling of your tears falling down his muscle-corded neck or your hot breath on the now-wet skin. Johnny feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks. You’re finally in his arms. You may be a little broken, but he can help you put the pieces back together again. He’s here, your Johnny, your soldier. 

The first thing Johnny does when you pull away is take your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears from your face. He takes in your gaunt face, sunken cheekbones, and bags under your puffy and red-veined eyes—eyes that look so empty despite your joy at him being home. 

“Oh, wee lass…I am so sorry.” 

Choking on your breath, you mutter, “I love you,” and break down in tears again. 

_____

The first thing Johnny does is carry you to and sit you down at your island. Johnny is determined to find you food, opening every cabinet and standing in front of it for minutes, looking in every nook and cranny to see if there is something you will be able to stomach. The squeaking and slamming of the opening and closing old wooden cabinets make your head ache. 

Finally, Johnny lets out a short shout of joy, having found some canned soup that would be easy for you to stomach after such a long time without food. Opening the can into a bowl and throwing it in the microwave for a few minutes, Johnny clomps his way over to you, his work boots still on his feet. 

“I missed ye, bonnie…I missed ye so much.” 

“Johnny…” you breathe.

“Shhhh, bonnie lass, dinnae say nothin’. Save yer energy. Ah’ve got ya.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything more, taking your face in his hands again, leaning down to flutter a kiss on your forehead, and stuffing his nose into your greasy hair. He doesn’t care that you’re dirty—he’s been in worse conditions—he just wants to feel that you are alive and remember what you smell like. 

The beeping of the microwave sounds, causing you two to startle out of your stupors. Taking one last long look at your face, Johnny turns around and clomps back over to the microwave. He takes the soup out and grabs a soup spoon from the cabinet drawer just under the microwave. Walking on light feet to keep the soup from spilling, Johnny makes his way over to you. He sits the bowl in front of you, taking hold of your hands and bringing them to curve around the bowl, ensuring your hands are toasty warm. 

Johnny sits and encourages you to eat until the bowl is empty and your stomach is full. 

_____

The next thing Johnny does is carry you to your bathroom, delicately standing you on the fuzzy rug in front of the claw-footed bathtub. He rubs his hands up and down your gooseflesh-covered arms, trying to warm you up. 

“Hey, bonnie,” he whispers as he tugs on the hem of the dirty oversized shirt you wear, “can I take this off?” 

You hum in response, keeping your eyes down on your twiddling fingers. 

“Bonnie…” Johnny takes his pointer and middle finger and puts them under your chin, pressing the front of your chin and lifting your head gently, “words, please.” 

“You can take it off.”

At your words, Johnny moves his hand from your face and brings it back to the hem of your—his—shirt, pulling it up with slow movements and encouraging you to lift your arms when needed. When he has it over your head, he drops it unceremoniously to the cold, tiled floor. Then he settles his large, warm palms on your naked waist, waiting for your consent to take off the shorts you had on with brown, searching, puppy-dog eyes. 

“Go ahead,” you whisper, searching his face for disgust as he leans down and peels the shorts from your legs. 

You find none. 

Instead, you see love and care reflected on his face, his body relaxed, and his mouth dropped open in awe as he stares at your naked form. Even in your most depressed form, he sees your beauty. Your eyes well up, waterline misting. 

The choked sound you make trying to hold back your tears has Johnny’s head snapping up in concern, eyebrows pulled in, and a small frown pulling at his lips. 

“Bonnie?” 

“Y-you just—why do you love me?” you say with trembling lips.

Johnny’s lips turn downward at a sharper angle, eyebrows furrowing and wrinkles forming between brows. His overgrown mohawk ruffles as he shakes his head lightly

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

“I have no excuse to be like this. Nothing has happened to me that made me this way.”

“You—”

“No. Johnny, it’s not fair to you. Not fair to have you come home from fucking war and have to take care of me.” 

“Bonnie, it doesn’t bother me…You aren’t a bother or burden. Your mental health is important to me. I worry about you every time I leave.” 

Now your eyebrows furrow, and hot, salty tears continue to fall from your eyes.

“But you shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“My bonnie lass…I would worry whether or not you had depression. I hate leaving you in your apartment alone for months on end.” Johnny watches as your lip wobbles, bringing his hands to your face and wiping your tears with big thumbs. You let loose a sob at his words and gentleness. 

“I don’t deserve you, Johnny.” 

“Shhhh, lass. I’ve got ya,” he whispers, pulling your shivering form into his hard, warm body and running his hands up and down your back as you soak his shirt with salty tears. 

“I-I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Shuh, bonnie. I’m here…you don’t have to worry your pretty little head.” 

After a few minutes of crying, you pull away from Johnny, wiping your running nose on the back of your hand. Johnny looks down at you with big blue eyes, softened with admiration and love. 

“Let’s get you in the tub, bonnie. I’ll even wash your hair.” 

You giggle slightly, lips turning up and eyes crinkling, nodding your head and letting him fully pull away from you. The cold air causes gooseflesh to prick up on your arms again. As you shiver slightly, you turn to watch Johnny lean over the bathtub to turn the faucet on and plug the drain. Steam curls up and around Johnny as he stands upright and turns towards you,

“Ya like what ya see?” he smirks. 

Giggling and feeling lighter than you have in weeks, you walk over to his outstretched hand. 

“Always, Johnny.”

[marner2tavares]

cardigan series: on a saturday, in a cafe ❣️

jack hughes x reader

cardigan series masterlist

Ever since graduating college, life has been fast to say the least. Instead of going home to Michigan for the summer, you decided to spend your fifth summer staying in Colorado with the family of one of the girls you danced with. After telling her about your situation, how you felt like you couldn’t go back, she was more than happy to offer you a place to stay. 

Every year your parents begged you to come home for Independence Day, but you couldn't bring yourself to go back to the town that housed your only real heartbreak. 

You had boyfriends since him, but it was never the same. Never the same level of passion. Never the same level of love or family that the Hughes’ gave you. Never the same level of closeness with your boyfriend’s friends. Nothing could compare, love wise, to all those years ago. 

Now the time has come, graduation done. Time to start your real life. All summer you looked for anything affordable in the city, but New York is unfortunately very expensive. You found one apartment… shared with 4 people, only two bedrooms. After a long phone call with your mom, she convinced you to just take a look at places in Jersey. Jersey is a big place! You told yourself over and over again desperately trying to convince yourself that you wouldn’t run into him. 

And you didn’t. You’ve lived there for nearly 3 months now and you haven’t seen him anywhere. Hearing about him, though? That was a different story. You heard about him everywhere. You started bringing headphones with you wherever you went. You didn’t look up at the TVs when you were out drinking at your neighborhood bar. You were starting to be able to block it out, tuning out when the name “Jack” comes up in conversation. You just told people you didn’t understand or care for sports. After 3 months, you were finally starting to feel safe in the city. 

One Saturday morning, you walked into the same coffee shop you’ve walked into a few times a week for the duration of your stay in Jersey, ordered the same thing, and sat down at the same table to wait for your drink. You scrolled on your phone until you heard someone call your old nickname, a nickname you have been called in a long time. Your head snaps up to see who said it and seeing the owner of the voice, you could feel your palms start to sweat. Youngest of the Hughes brother, Luke was standing by the counter looking at you. 

“Oh my god, it’s actually you.” Luke said as he started walking over. You stood up from your table, accepting the hug he was giving you. You expected for that to feel out of place. It almost felt worse that it didn’t. “What are you doing in Jersey?” You took a deep breath before forcing yourself to reply. 

“I, uh, I live here now.” Luke’s eyes went wide.

“You live here?” You nodded your head, almost shyly. Luke looked perplexed. You decided to try to break the tension. You smiled with a light laugh and looked up at him. 

“You really grew, Luke.” He laughed too, thank god.

“Yeah, I kinda did. Hit the big 2-0.” Your stomach sank. The reality of how much time has passed hit you like a truck. Luke was 15 last time you saw him in person. 

“Yeah, I remembered.” There was a pause that felt so much longer than you’re sure it actually was. The barista called your names and Luke gave you a quick “be right back” and walked up to the counter to get both your drinks before sitting down at the table. Luke passed you your drink and you took a sip.

“How long have you lived here?” You took a deep breath.

“Uh.. almost since your birthday really.” Luke’s face fell a little bit.

“You didn’t call?” You cringed at the sadness in his eyes. Luke wasn’t just Jack’s little brother. He was like your little brother. You helped him with everything. You truly loved Luke like your own brother. 

“I just didn’t think you would want to see me.” You answered honestly. Luke looked down at his cup and then back up to you. 

“I’m always down to see you. I know Quinn would be too.” There's the other part. Quinn. God, you loved Quinn. He was your rock, almost more so than Jack. He practically helped raise you. Helped you through fights with Jack, picked you up from parties when you were too drunk to drive and too scared to call your mom, amongst countless other things. You missed him. You missed them all. You have for years. 

“I just didn’t know where we stood.” You took a pause. “And I was too scared of you guys hating me it was just easier to not reach out.” Luke just nodded for a second before he looked up with a small smile on his face. 

“Tell you what, you can make it up to me.” You let out a real laugh this time.

“Oh, how can I make it up to you, Luke?” You rested your chin on your palm.

“Come to my game tonight. We’re playing the Sabres, it should be a good game.” You let out a sigh and dropped your head a bit.

“I really don’t think Jack would want me there.” Luke leaned into the table a little bit.

“Never say never. I’ll leave you a ticket.” He noticed the deep breath you took and smiled at you. “Come.” You smiled at him and let out another sigh before looking back up at him. 

“I’ll be there.”

[montammil]

PLZ PLZ PLZ just one drabble where marshall and the other two have Stockholm and Lawrence takes them for like a 'family day' 😌 ofc ignore this if you want<333

Sorry this is short, even though I'm inexperienced in more wholesome writings (if you ignore the Stockholm syndrome LOL) I still love writing them! Thank you for the request :D

TW: Stockholm syndrome, parental whumper, infantilization (treating and referring to adults as children)

...

It took a lot of convincing from Marshall and Sadie both to talk Lawrence into taking them to the aquarium today. Lawrence never liked taking them outside their home, for several reasons, but Sadie was an expert at giving him puppy dog eyes and begging enough for whatever they wanted.

Lawrence wasn't too worried about them getting recognized--it had been a few years since their disappearances, after all. He just hated the idea of risking their safety. The outside world was a cruel place.

"Remember to always stick together," Lawrence told them as soon as they pulled into a parking space. It wasn't too crowded, thankfully, but they still had to park quite far from the entrance. "If I see any of you wandering off, we're going straight back home."

Marshall smiled larger than he had in months. "I hope they have penguins!"

"You'll find out when we get there," Lawrence chuckled, opening his car door.

Lawrence led the way inside with Sadie clutching onto his left arm and Marshall clinging to his right side. Nathan lagged behind, walking a bit slower than the others.

Despite preferring being in the comfort of their home, even Nathan felt relieved they could finally do something fun together (that wasn't the same daily routine).

A change in environment, no matter how small or uneventful, was refreshing for the three victims. They've spent enough time trapped within that house.

"Hello," the receptionist greeted. "How many?"

"Four," Lawrence replied, offering a polite smile. He pulled out his wallet and began fishing out enough cash to pay. The four were given bright green wristbands, which they secured on each of their wrists before proceeding inside.

Sadie looked around in awe, grasping Lawrence's arm again. "What are you most excited to see, Dad?"

His heart warmed whenever his kids referred to him as that. "Hmm... dolphins, probably. Though I'd love to see an octopus too. How about you, kiddo?"

"I'm happy with anything! It's all so cool," Sadie marveled, taking it all in.

Marshall still clung onto Lawrence tightly, but with less enthusiasm than before. He seemed more nervous now. "There's so many people..."

There really wasn't, but it was definitely more people than the poor thing was used to nowadays. They could have gone on a weekday to lessen the crowd, but the aquarium would be practically filled with screaming kids on field trips.

Nathan scoffed. "You're the one who was demanding we go here."

"Nate," Lawrence scolded, then turned his attention back on Marshall. "If you get too overwhelmed, we can always take breaks or leave early, okay, baby?" His gaze fell on Nathan. "That goes for all of us. This is supposed to be a good experience--I don't want anyone getting stressed out."

"Look! Piranhas," Sadie called, pointing to an exhibit at the entrance of the tunnel.

Lawrence kissed the top of Marshall's head before taking a few steps forward towards it. He gestured for Nathan to come closer too. He wanted them all to stay in sight.

As much as he trusted the kids wouldn't run off (or try to report him to staff), old habits died hard and he couldn't help but feel slightly paranoid in public. It was rare for his anxiety to affect him--only when his children were involved would he ever worry.

Marshall cringed. "Why do they look like that?"

"I think they're cool," Nathan muttered.

Sadie pointed to the sign. "It says they're actually not as bloodthirsty as movies portray them as. I guess I'm not surprised." She made a face. "They still freak me out a little though." She rushed on ahead, ignoring the exasperated sigh Lawrence gave. "Ooh, there's seahorses over here! That one's pregnant, I think." She gestured to the obvious one. "He's so cute."

Lawrence chuckled. "Seahorses are probably one of my favorite animals. It's nice seeing one in person."

Nathan shrugged. "I think they're overrated."

"There's more exhibits this way!" Sadie exclaimed, running down the hall.

"No running," Lawrence reminded her. "We aren't in a rush."

It was both funny and exhausting to him how different they all were; Sadie was running ahead, Marshall was clinging onto him, and Nathan could barely keep up in favor of trudging everywhere.

Not that he didn't like it. After so long treating them like children, they were finally acting like it.

"The penguins are here!" Sadie called in response. Marshall gasped and ran ahead too. Nathan kept at the same pace, unaffected. Penguins must not have been very high on his list.

Only once when Lawrence had the two in their line of sight, he slowed down to Nathan's pace. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah," Nathan muttered, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He no longer got angry and embarrassed at the terms of endearment.

It took time for the kids to adjust, but now even Nathan would say 'love you' back to him from time to time. Only if he was feeling particularly loving towards Lawrence, however--which was pretty rare. Regardless, Lawrence was proud of him either way.

Lawrence glanced back at the other two for a brief moment, just to make sure they were still there. "Is there anything in particular you want to do after this? We'll probably only be here an hour longer at most."

Nathan played with the zipper on his jacket. "You'll say no."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I'd still like to hear it." Despite being so controlling of them, he really did love hearing his kids talk.

"It's stupid, but I was wondering if we could stop by an arcade. There's one across town. It's alright if you don't wanna. I don't even care anymore, honestly." But it was easy to tell it was a lie. His cheeks were red despite the nonchalant act. "You probably hate games, anyways."

Lawrence snorted. "Nate, I'm not ancient. When I was a teen, I practically lived in the arcade."

"That was thousands of years ago," Nathan smirked. He peered over to see Marshall pressed up against the glass of the exhibit, watching the penguins play around while Sadie read the facts about them displayed nearby.

It was like they completely forgot the other two were even there. Maybe that was better. He secretly loved their company, but it was rare he got one on one time with his dad.

Lawrence pinched his cheeks. "Watch yourself, brat," he teased, "we can go but don't make me change my mind."

Nathan swatted his hands away playfully, letting a giggle escape his mouth. He tried to keep quiet, so Marshall and Sadie wouldn't overhear, but it didn't matter much anyways. They weren't paying attention to him or Lawrence at the moment. "I'm excited to introduce you to Street Fighter."

"Oh, please, you weren't even alive when that game released," Lawrence rolled his eyes fondly. "C'mon, let's go catch up with the others." The pair began walking over to join Marshall and Sadie who were already moving on to the next exhibit. He stopped behind them. "Ooh, electric eels."

Sadie shook her head. "Those are actually moray eels. Moray eels have cuter faces, electric eels have flat, weird-looking heads."

"Like you," Nathan snickered. She shoved him in a playful retort.

"There's the Nemo's," Marshall rushed towards the clown fish and leaned into the glass.

"'Nemo's?'" Lawrence cooed at how adorable he was.

Marshall glared at him in a mock pout. "You know what I mean! If you didn't make me watch that movie a million times, I'm sure I would've called them clown fish." He stood normally again and wrapped his arms around Lawrence, burying his face into his chest. "Anyway, I'm ready to go home. I'm so tired already." This was the first time in a while that he walked this far.

He was met with a kiss on top of his head. "You were such a trooper today. Thank you. Nate and I are gonna go to the arcade after this, but I can drop you off at home." He glanced at Sadie. "Do you want to come to the arcade with us or stay home?"

"You can drop me off at home too, I'm, also kind of tired. Can we check out the gift shop before we leave?" she asked.

Lawrence grinned. "I think it's obvious by now I spoil you all."

[chocochipjewel]

Belos artdump!

I couldn't draw anything new for the WaD anniversary like I'd initially hoped so I figured I might as well just post some of my old art

This one's just a sketch attempting to mimic the show's art style, done a few days after the finale initially aired.

This one was done for Thanks to Them's anniversary last year. Always wanted to get this posted eventually haha

And this one's my best work. I did this... 10 months ago? I haven't drawn ToH in a really long time lol.

This was inspired off his various faces that all come together to make the full character in the show, complete with colourcoding. Purple for the 'innocent' child, blue for the serene masked emperor, red for the unmasked monster inside, and green for the human he once used to be.

One last thing - I made a super cringe playlist of songs that remind me of the Wittebanes and I'm really nervous about sharing it but if anyone would be interested, I'd be willing to drop the link in the comments (and I mean it when I say cringe.)

Anyways I've already talked about him more than enough today, so hope anyone who sees this enjoys the art!

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

What Are We?

pairing: bo x gn!reader

summary: when bo starts to question your relationship, you're both forced to confront your feelings for one another

warnings: smut, oral sex (m receiving), angst (with a happy ending...sort of), soft bo (sort of), bo might also be slightly out of character

a/n: i apologise in advance for what you're about to read...cos this one kinda hurt

word count: 1171

"What are we?"

"What?" You rolled over to find Bo staring at you, his brows pulled together in concentration as he laid with his head propped up in his hand.

"What are we?" He asked again, a little more urgency in his tone now.

You pressed your lips together, taking a moment to think about his question.

The first time you'd met Bo, it was when you stumbled into town, having no prior knowledge to what usually went on here. Your shitty old car had broken down and Lester had been kind enough to give you a ride into town.

The second you saw him you knew you were in trouble. When he smiled, your heart skipped a beat and when he reached up to adjust the worn cap on his head, your skin seemed to come alight. You wanted him.

Bo wanted you too, except at first, it was in a different way.

It wasn't long before he was dragging you into his basement, your broken down car long forgotten at that point, and he kept you there for the next three weeks.

You should've hated him, or at the very least been scared of him. But maybe you were just fucked in the head, because you couldn't seem to find it in you to fear this man, despite everything he'd done to you. It was an odd feeling to say the least.

Now, you felt even more odd as you laid in bed with him, his fingers absent-mindedly stroking your arm like he hadn't previously been your kidnapper.

And he was asking you something you had never dreamed would ever come out of his mouth, because what were you? Lovers? Friends? Were you in a relationship?

"I don't know what we are." You finally answered, a feeling of sadness spreading in your chest as you took in his expression.

His usual scowl seemed to melt into a frown as he looked at you, something resembling disappointment in his eyes. "Well...how do you feel about me?"

You noticed him cringe slightly as he said that. Feelings weren't exactly his favourite thing to talk about.

You smiled, mostly from amusement, as you shifted closer to him in the bed. "I like you, is that what you wanna hear?"

He simply pressed his mouth into a line as he thought about it, all the while you were slowly moving closer to him, your fingers skating along his jaw as you leaned towards him.

But he was quick to stop you, his fingers curling around your wrist as he pried you off of him. "Don't."

And that single word was what sent your whole world off balance, because Bo was never like this. "Do you really care what we are to each other?"

He scoffed at you then, his signature scowl returning to his face. "No. I was just thinking about it, that's all. Don't mean I care."

He rolled over then, letting you stare at his back whilst you mulled over his question in your head. You'd always thought your relationship with him was strictly sexual, never involving anything more than casual feelings, but it seemed that that might not have been the case.

As much as you'd like to tell him that you two were merely just friends who had sex sometimes, you knew for a fact that wasn't true. For a few months now, you'd noticed your feelings becoming a little deeper than simply casual. You just couldn't figure out exactly what he meant to you.

You reached towards him then, gently running your fingers down his back.

He didn't react, he simply remained where he was, his back still to you as he kept silent.

"I love you, Bo." You finally said, your heart clenching in your chest at the words. "I have for a while."

He turned around then, the hard look on his face softening. "Yeah?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Although you weren't entirely sure if that was the truth, you hoped it was.

Before anything else could be said between you, you reached a hand towards his face, pulling him towards you so you could press a tender kiss to his lips.

"Say it again." He mumbled as you began trailing your lips down his throat.

"I love you." You sighed into his skin, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. "I love you."

You were practically chanting the words as you continued to make your way down his body, eventually pausing when you reached the hem of his shirt.

You cast a quick glance to him before pushing the dark material up his body, letting him remove the clothing completely as he lifted it over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor.

"Fuck, I love you." You muttered again, your fingers already hooking underneath the waistband of his boxers, eagerly tugging them down his legs.

"I love you so much." You said again, your voice dripping with desperation as you wrapped a hand around his length, making his hips jerk off the bed slightly.

Bo let out a guttural moan when you finally closed your mouth over his tip, wasting no time in taking him further.

You loved when he let you take control like this, when he let you show him just how much you cared for him. And from the sounds spilling from his mouth right now, it seemed he loved it too.

You felt him slide his hand over the back of your head, his fingers tightly gripping onto your hair as you started to bob your head up and down on his cock.

And whilst you were enjoying the fact that it was you who was coaxing the desperate moans out of him, you also found it relieving that you didn't have to speak anymore, because you still didn't know if you actually loved him. But you wanted to.

You continued your movements over him, causing quiet moans to keep slipping from his mouth as he gripped the back of your head, and after a while you could tell he was close.

Tears were starting to burn your eyes and saliva was running down your chin, and you had never felt more alive than you did in this moment. So what if you didn't love him yet, he still managed to light your whole body on fire whenever you were together like this. That was what mattered to you.

"Oh fuck." You heard him groan, his grip on your hair becoming painful now as he started to thrust into your mouth. "That's it. Come on."

After a few more hard thrusts into your mouth, you finally felt him go rigid beneath you, his warm release spilling over your tongue. And once he was spent, you pulled off of him, swallowing hard as you crawled back up the bed.

You both laid side by side, not touching, the sound of heavy breathing filling the room. And then he said "I love you."

And you had never felt more broken.

[Main Masterlist] [Bo Masterlist]

[rottenyeen]

God it fucking sucks. I wish I wasn’t transgender, because it’s the reason I likely won’t have a family.

I have known I am transman since I was a child and first learned it was even a thing. Around 7 or 8 years old, to be honest. And once I got into middle school, I came out to my friend group. They were luckily very supportive, used my pronouns and chosen name which at the time was Scotty because I wanted a “S” name so I wouldn’t have to change my initials. I wasn’t very connected to the name, but it made do.

I didn’t pass at all in middle school, I wasn’t allowed to cut my hair shorter than my shoulders so I always have that stereotypical side part, long hair cut. I told my biological mother, asking her not to tell a soul and she promised- only for that very night she decided to call my dad, grandparents, and her friends to spread the news. She outed me instantly to everyone and everything around me.

I was out for 5 years, from 7th grade to my junior year of highschool. It was hell. My siblings consistently made fun of me, told me I should kill myself over it, that I was cringe and stupid and fucked up in the head for thinking I was something I am not. My dad made transphobic comments and jokes when I was not around but when I was present he’d be calm and say he’d need time but he loves me. My biological mother said she supported me, but every weekend I’d see her she’d ask me “so are you still trans? Oh okay.” My stepmother would scream at me, tell me I didn’t deserve dinner, throw things at me, cry and send me to bed sobbing because I used my brothers shampoo to wash my hair instead of my sisters. My stepmother would say I smelled like a boy, which was wrong because I had a vagina and not a penis so she’d then force me to reshower and stand there as I washed and used a different soap. It was fucking hell.

My senior year of highschool, I thought it was too much. So I “detransitioned” which sucked, because at this point of time I was told I passed very well and I was almost always gendered properly unless I spoke. But I grew out my hair and said fuck it because the agony of having no support system ruined me. So my senior year I decided to change myself completely.

I went back to magically being cis, to being girly, to loving and obsessing over pink- doing anything in my power to seem as if I was the most feminine being in the world and it worked so flawlessly. Suddenly my family wanted to speak to me again. And the funniest part, is that when I climbed back into my closet, into my safe haven and hiding spot- I heard some interesting things.

My family was suddenly so vocal about transgender people, and in a derogatory light. My stepmother especially, would always bring up my “transness” as a phase that she was glad was over. This hit me like a fucking truck- considering in the 5 years I was out I thought she was genuinely warming up and learning/healing. Boy was I wrong.

So senior year. And this last year, my technically first year of college, or what would have been. I have just decided to make myself void of everything- not caring. Any pronouns, any gender, any sexuality- anything. Anything but cis.

It’s so fucking painful. I attempted suicide a few months ago and overdosed- which landed me in the hospital. And these past months I’ve had to live with my parents, which is SO delightful. (Heavy sarcasm.) I have lost the ability to care how others perceive me. My mental health has reached a point where I don’t care about other people’s feelings about me or in general for most cases.

So I’m trying to come out again. I’m a transman, always have been. I’ve been trying to force myself to be a fucking girly girl for so long- letting it consume my personality because I know I didn’t do so, I wouldn’t have people to come to my wedding. I wouldn’t have grandparents for if I adopted a child. I wouldn’t have anyone to lean on.

I’m so fucking scared, more than half my family wants nothing to do with me just because I’m lgbt. And that’s just because I’m out about my sexuality, that I’ll date anyone regardless of gender. But my gender? Oh I’m royally fucked.

I just wish I could be myself. I wish I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. And you may be wondering, “Why didn’t you tell your online friends?”

Because I have before, multiple times.

My parents would always find out, I’m not even supposed to be on twitter or tumblr or discord- anything at all. But I have been for years. I was just terrified of them finding anything if they even looked through my phone, or saw a subtle notification from a friend calling me anything. I know they’d take everything from me.

Anyway. This ramble is long enough. To sum it up, I have reached a place of full apathy, which ironically has made me comfortable to come out again. Because I don’t care what my family thinks. It’s scary, but at the same time I couldn’t care about their opinion if they do find out. I’ve been through it before, and I’m an adult now so what’s really the worst that could happen? I’m just tired.

[thatuselesshuman]

Writer Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for the tag @wyked-ao3

It's always fun to do one of these lol

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

I've had a Tumblr account for about 6 months or so but I've only been a 'writeblr' for a couple months.

What led you to create it?

Idk tbh. I kinda just decided that I wanted to share my writing and it led me here.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

All of the creativity is amazing. I'm a whore for lore and world building, and the worlds that y'all come up with are immaculate. I could only hope to think of a world that vast and interesting.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Please ddon't take me seriously. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but I'm not just a clown, I'm the entire circus. The day you take me too seriously (especially as an author) is the death of my whimsy.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

Nothing I can really think of. I'm pretty happy with how it is rn lol

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Bloody Hands are Kind and None of Us Heroes are always floating around. They're never not beating my ass with ideas and scenes.

How long have you been working on them?

I've been working of the series component of Bloody Hands are Kind since February, and None of Us Heroes for about 1 and a half months.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

None of Us Heroes started from the Honkai Star Rail brainworms known as Adventurine and Dr Ratio. Their designs and story inspired the two main characters of None of Us Heroes. The series component of Bloody Hands are Kind was basically me shoving a long-standing OC of mine into the Hunger Games universe and praying it would work.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least a few hours a day, usually when I'm laying in bed trying to fall asleep. My array of illnesses make falling asleep hard and I find that thinking about my stories makes it easier to forget that I'm not asleep (and therefore hopefully fall asleep).

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

"Whatever the voices command."

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

Meh I say that because I find it funny so idk if I'd change it.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created. Side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

OHH LORD THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG LIST. So we got Adrian, Nova, Amarantha, Jack, Cora Beth, Ben Al-Badawi (x3), Jack Collins, William Talt, Blue, Zero, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Azrael (aka Amane), Lucifer, Achlys, Quinn Amsel, Atlas Selic, Michael, Adena, Nakir, Evangeline, Celeste, Saeko, Gabriel, Kaz Anderson, Caspian, Jyn Osaka, Nikolai Sevigny, Cyril, Kylan Whitlock, Kestrel, Leo Valandi, Anaïs, Delph, Laz (short for Lazarus), Neo, Roland, Tobias, Will, Mirwais, Simon Cruz, Conrad, James Blackthorn, Alessandra Snow, Max Foster, Benyamin Safi, Haeyun Sin, and Dante Silvestre. There are more, but I either don't care enough to write them down or I've forgotten their names.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Blue 100%. He's not human and it is not uncommon for his species to be cannibalistic. He's not, but he's still unhinged asf

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Max Foster. He's easy to write because me and him share a lot if similarities.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Oh definitely. A lot of my old characters are cringy.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? AKA, do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

Dude idk what to tell you, whenever I try and force my characters to do something I hit the biggest writer's block wall I've ever seen.

On Writeblr Engagement

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? And do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? For example, as Asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on AO3, etc.

YES YES PLEASE ASK ME!! Anyways, I don't really care how you ask (I just want you to ask lol), but if I had to pick it'd either be asks or comments on Ao3. Though ofc I still love questions in any and all forms, even if it's something like making a separate post and tagging me loll.

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on WIPs, or vibes?

I mostly follow people if I think their cool or if I find myself consistently liking their posts as they come across my dash. I don't follow people often tho lol. I only follow abt 20 people I think.

What makes you decide against following?

If their vibes are too negative, if they're super political, if their content doesn't align with something I care about, or if they're super anti something I am. Any combination of those could be the reason I don't follow.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Yes. I think about other people's WIPs and such all of the time. I love stories, what can I say?

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Of course! As I said, I don't follow many people so I don't have many mutuals. I love interacting with different people though, so I'm happy to strike up conversations with random people I find cool!

@moltenwrites @willtheweaver @the-golden-comet @katenewmanwrites @agirlandherquill +open tag

[aicosu]

Hellcheer Western Prompt

They're basically asleep when the neigh of a horse has them scrambling to their feet.

Eddie has to dive over the desk to shove his elbows down on Dustin's shoulders, both wrestling for a view out the broken shutters.

"People!" Dustin points out the obvious when he's pushed to the floor.

"Hide the guns!" Eddie barks, eyes still on the caravan of three kicking up dust through their two-manned ghost town.

"Which ones and where?"

They both turn to look at the piles of rifles, pistols, dynamite littering the surfaces of the entire building.

"Good point." Eddie palms his hair into his cheeks in thought. Fuck, strangers always meant acting. And that could be fun but lately it's been so stressful with the addition of their bounty posted from here to the north of winter's asshole. "Gimme the deputy badge."

"Nuh Uh!" Dustin scrambles up to protect his tin shield. "I hate being Sheriff!"

"No, I hate being Sheriff! They always want me to do shit for—"

"—last time I was Sheriff I had to change wheels—"

"—killing people constantly like I'm a fucking lawmen—"

"—and no one believes I'm old enough! No!"

"Gimme it!"

Another horse whinnies at the crack of a reign and Eddie tackles Dustin to the ground both scuffing spurs in a pathetic tussle on the jail building floor for less responsibility.

——

"Well, howdy."

"You the Sheriff?"

Eddie sucks his teeth with a cringe against the porch beam, and Dustin chuckles at his side. "Sure am."

"Place abandoned?"

It takes Eddie a second to realize the person he's talking to might be dame wearing a fake mustache. But he realizes it all the same, blinking against the dirt in the air and the sun in the sky. They have brown chopped hair and sharp angles in their face… plus pants on. So maybe a boy but… "Mine accident."

They whistle, unloading themselves from shotgun with shotgun. "Is it still safe for stopping?"

"We don't have hands for the saloon or board." Dustin rushes to say. Eddie pats him with approval. They really don't need stranger blowing their fake town cover.

"We have our own things. Provisions, linen, rafters, entertainment, and drink and most in the back would feel a mightier safer with a couple of lawmen to look out for bandits and wolves instead of me."

Eddie doesn't get a chance to protest.

"I'm the Ringer Robin by the way, should any introductions be made while we park our fares for just a few days. Ringer as in ringleader, leader as in—"

"It's a circus!" Dustin exclaims with a cough of excitement in his kiddy cheeks. He thumbs at the side of the caravan with a huge grin.

Eddie glares, leaning one way to see the painted canvas displayed on the three wagons. Circus. Real low in the laying.

"I don't think—"

"We'd do a show for you, Sheriff!"

God he hated being fucking called that.

"We're staying?" A voice flits from the back.

They all turn, and there in the shafts of sunlight burning gold into red on the edge of the world, forms a girl made from its last wink. A precious coin lost in dust. A delicate dandelion seed adrift in the west.

A lady.

She steps down from the caravan with grace he's not known, with clean hair and cleaner skin.

Adnorned in, uh, uhm, fuck, not much!

"Mm—hrnu-who—hungh-m-m-m—"

"Ma'am." Dustin achieves what he can't and has the decency to tip his hat all the way down to the ground as she quite literally traipses by in nothing but a strap suit that exposes her whole leg and backside, little hip ruffles not at all decent in covering anything more than what modesty she had left.

She chitters to Robin's side dangling finge and gems, great big, very valuable, and possible fence-able rhinestone eyes blinking at him.

At him. At him. At him!

"This is our lady of trapeze, who should very much stay in the wagon until I sa—"

"I'm bloodless in my legs." She whispers back with the shyest dip of her cutest nose. And it's been exactly five months since Eddie's seen anything as beautiful as her. The last being a peek of a sweet family dinner from a window outside the city. And she's immensely more delicious. Her eyes find him with demure excitement. "We heard rumor that the Crow Killer is a town over—"

"Crow Killer! HA! How fun, who, uh—what's, what's that?" Dustin's voice is loud enough in protest that the horse's scamper.

"Nope! Sorry, my deputy forgets the Marshalls visit fortnights ago…" Eddie grabs him by the neck to squeeze him quieter as subtly as possible. "Our, uh, sad little town of grief has no business for the likes of that…. Degenerate! I'm sure!"

"Sheriff Eddie's right, no... no shadow caped killer of hundreds to be found here. Nope. No nightime burgles or larceny... no, no, no."

The trapeze artist has such gall to look disappointed that Eddie has to resist falling to his knees before her and handing her his bounty and screaming, it's me! It's me!

"We're better off, I'm sure," Robin squints. "Come on, Chrissy girl, let's get everyone roped over by the water tower."

"That's empty." Dustin lies. The only two left of them doing his goddamn job. "It's really not the best place to camp."

Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy. Not even a Mary Anne or a Harriet type aristocrat name to make him retch. But a little jingle jangle name like tying a Chrissy to a mill for luck! Help him!

"Have you caught many outlaws?" Chrissy distractedly asks him, not moving to help Robin or his sanity.

He stares down at sweet cream skin and caramel spun hair like it's a mirage for a hungry desperado out of luck. "Uh, well, I, I've uh, yes! Of, course! P-part of the job, little… lady. Little... bird. Miss. Ma'am!"

Now he really sounds like every other belt-belly tight police man whose only skil was turning locks.

"Maybe we'll stay awhile and you could tell us Sheriff stories by the fire?" She leans in even as Robin calls for her.

She smells like yarrow in milk and honey.

"You really can't stay." Dustin says urgently at his elbow. Eddie puts a hand on the kid's face to push him backward.

"Yes! I'd be honored, to uh, be at the service of a proper debutante." He grins wide. When she giggles he gets worse. "A proper artist—angel, even! Of the skies! A... sheriff of the cloud themselves! Y-yes."

"Oh, good!" She smiles.

Dustin groans into his palm long and loud.

[frenziedslashers]

I'm Not In Love;;

A/N: I was feeling silly goofy and got this idea while listening to the gotg soundtrack.

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Warnings: reader uses he/him pronouns, alcohol consumption

"You're going to see him, aren't you?"

Peter jumped when Gamora spoke. Her voice slightly echoing in the hallway of the ship as he leaned against the wall. His heart was racing. A mix of being caught sneaking out, and also the fact that he was on his way to see you.

"What? No. Who? Who am I going to see... Exactly?" He asked, his ears turning red at his stammering. She only laughed, rolling her eyes while shaking her head. "You know who I'm talking about."

Peter could own up to being caught. It wasn't like the whole crew didn't know that he was sneaking out to see you. You were the only person he ever made time for anymore.

"Psh, I have no idea," he played dumb. A fowl play. "Is Peter sneaking out to see the silly earth boy?" Peter jumped yet again. Flailing his arms a little while he jumped to this time face Drax.

"You guys need to stop doing that! And he's not a boy, he's like six months younger than me! Don't make it weird," he scoffed, causing a rumble of laughter to escape Drax's throat. Gamora smiling in amusement.

"Well, if you have no idea who I am accusing you of hanging out with," she sighed, "I guess you won't mind if I invite the silly earth boy over to hang out with us all." She toyed.

Peter felt his stomach bubbling with anxiety. He could throw up if he really wanted to, but he didn't. That'd be one more thing for them all to make fun of him for.

"Why are you inviting him?" He blurted, certain that they would catch onto how enthralled in you he really was. "Well, just to talk. That's all." That definitely was not all if Gamora was the one inviting you over.

Quill was defiant though. He wasn't about to admit that he was sneaking out to surprise you at your apartment. Hopeful to spend any amount of time with you, even if it was short lived. He wouldn't care. Just seeing you made him feel better.

"Why are you so obsessed with the silly man anyways? Haven't you got a billion other people to sleep with? Or are you in love with him?" Drax accused, and Peter felt his face heating up more than before. God, he needed a drink. Or to be knocked unconscious. Anything works.

"One, I do have a billion other people to sleep with. They're all just... Busy, and he's not. Two, I'm not in love!" He shouted, and Drax only smiled. "That's what a man in love would say!" He boasted with a laugh. Peter only grunted. Slumping his shoulders forward a bit while he headed back for his room on the ship. "Whatever," he scoffed, making Gamora and Drax smile at each other.

"Oh, he's in love," she teased loud enough for him to hear. He was sick of it. Even if they were right.

When you got to the Milano everyone was sitting around the main table. Laughing and shouting at one another. It wasn't long before you were spotted, though.

"Quill! Your funny earth man is here!" Drax yelled, a curse coming from beside you as Peter entered the room with more drinks in his hand. He looked over at you. Smiling softly when he met your gaze. "Hey," you grinned back. "God, this is disgusting! You two are always fucking with your eyes," Rocket slurred. Having a few too many drinks.

"I am groot," "It's not cute! It's burning my eyes!" Rocket cringed, rubbing his eyes with his hands in an attempt to make his point. You just laughed, rolling your eyes while you approached the table. Sitting beside Gamora and Groot. Peter across from you when he finally did sit down.

The conversations you all had were quick to turn into banter. Nothing important was really shared. Outside from old stories, gossip, and some minor advice from Drax.

"So, how's your love life going?" Gamora had asked you, and you felt your stomach bubble. A familiar nervousness boiling within you when you noticed how intensely Peter was staring at you from across the table. "Well, it's interesting," you smiled, and everyone was all ears now.

"I met this guy, he's really nice. Sweet, even. He knows just how to turn my bad days into good ones, and he's got the craziest life I've ever heard of. I like him quite a lot, actually," Peter scoffed at your words. He hadn't meant to, though. "Who is he?" He asked, and now it was everyone's turn to look at him. "Are you jealous? I think he's jealous!" Rocket hooted which caused Peter to raise his hands in defense. "I ain't jealous!" "No need to be jealous anyways, he's sitting right in front of me," you told him while nervously fiddling your fingers in your lap.

Everyone was quiet. Looking between the both of you. Everyone was wide eyed with disbelief, besides Gamora. Who was just smiling smugly over at Peter. Waiting for him to either progress the relationship between the two of you. Or fuck it up with something stupid. It was a fifty-fifty chance with Quill.

"Me?" He asked, causing everyone to sigh or groan. "God, you're so stupid, yet it's you!" Drax shouted. More stressed over the situation than you were. You only giggled, raising your hand up to rub your jaw. "Yeah, you," Quill had no idea how to respond to that. He only stared, dumbfounded.

"So much for 'I'm not in love'!" Rocket mocked Peter's voice, and the man sneered. "I do not sound like that!" Drax and Rocket were laughing now. Gamora still looking between the both of you. Groot was truthfully lost, but he supported whatever was going on.

"So?" Gamora spoke to Quill. He just stared, shaking his head with wide eyes. "What?" He asked, and she groaned for you. "Are you going to say that you like him back? Or are you going to keep acting like you know nothing?" She nearly shouted, and Peter through his hands up. Opening his mouth to speak, but then it closed. He couldn't muster up the courage to say anything.

"If you don't like me that's fine, Peter. Don't let Gamora scare you into something that you don't want." He did want you though. In more ways than just sex. He wanted to wake up to you next to him every morning. He wanted to explore the galaxy with you. He wanted to be able to call you his.

"I do uh, like you." He stammered, "And I do want you," he nearly whispered. A sheepish smile gracing his lips. Cheers were heard from around the table, but neither of you really paid mind to them. You were both too focused on looking at one another from across the table.

"Jesus, quit doing that," Rocket sneered, and Peter sighed. "Doing what?" He asked, and Rocket waved his hands between the both of you. "That thing with your eyes, you're practically undressing each other! Just get out of here if you guys wanna be weird and sappy," he scoffed. Making a fake gagging noise in the process. Peter only rolled his eyes, standing from his chair while you did the same.

"I have to get going anyways," you told Rocket, and Quill frowned. "How come?" He asked, watching as your smile grew mischievous. "That guy I was talking about? His bed's calling my name right now," you hummed, waving to the group before heading through the ship to where Peter's quarters were.

Peter stood there for a moment, smiling as he watched you walk off. "Hear that guys? This guys not only got some sort of relationship going on now, but I'm also getting laid," he snickered before moving for you down the hall. Practically jogging down after you. Everyone else slowly lost the fondness of the idea of you two being together. Now they saw how big of an issue it could be.

"It is like living with my parents all over again. Just hopefully Quill will not tell us how they have sex," Drax informed the crew, and they all let out noises of disapproval. "I'm sure Quill'll let us all know without his words," Rocket grumbled, sinking into his chair. The rest of the crew doing the same as they drank the rest of their booze.

What a night for you all indeed.

[vampire-the-askerade]

Gary Golden x Reader

[Did I go a little bit nuts with how long this is? Yes. But, it's my blog and I'll be cringe if I want to.]

There were certainly times when all of the vampire legends lent themselves to be true. But, one thing that many people including kindred exaggerated was how much energy you would have. It was always presented like vampires had almost unlimited motivation to do whatever they so desired. But, if your exhausted body dragging itself through the front door of the lobby and past the shabby pool area had anything to say about it, your energy was most certainly still limited. You had more than when you were human to be sure, but still finite.

You were so exhausted in fact that you couldn’t even make yourself go all the way to your haven, choosing instead to take a room at the Luckee Star Hotel. Perhaps it wasn’t the fanciest or well-kept place, but if it was safe enough for Nines to hide from all of the Camarilla and a pack of werewolves for a few nights then it would be safe enough to house an un-hunted you for one. After spending the night before helping the Nosferatu of the warrens hunt down the rest of the creatures left over from the mess a few months ago and spending the subsequent day tucked into some corner of the sewer where any of them that your group might have missed couldn’t get to you, all you wanted to do tonight was nothing. Maybe that sentiment would be hyperbolic later, but for right now it was all you were doing.

Lying on the bed, staring up at nothing except the cracked ceiling plaster, you almost felt yourself drifting off to sleep; or, rather, the feeling of when you would close your eyes in preparation to sleep when you were still alive. It was short-lived though, as you heard the floor creak, just slightly audible, but still there. Without looking over to where the sound was as to not alert your new guest that you knew they were there, you reached over, grabbed one of the extra pillows on the bed, and then threw it in the direction you heard the noise. It seemed you hit your mark as there was a soft thump followed by a gravelly laugh.

“Getting better all the time, boss.” That caught your attention as though you figure it was one of the Nosferatu, you didn’t expect it to be Gary. “Wouldn’t have caught me if this dump was up to code though.” He huffed as every step he took made the floor creak so much it sounded like it was about to cave in. You sat up on the bed and looked over at him. “So, what’s the visit for?” You asked. “Must be something important for you to come here yourself.’

Gary’s mouth started to tug into a deviant grin that threatened to show his crooked fangs beneath. “You sure about that? Perhaps I just got bored of the old sewer and decided to go for a walk.”

The look you gave him almost made him chuckle again. It had been a while since he had someone equally humor him, yet not take his antics quietly. You were fun like that.

“Oh, and on that walk you just so happened to get yourself to where I was staying for the night, huh?” You shook your head and leaned back to rest against the headboard behind the bed. ���Well, why not? After you finished with your part of the house cleaning you left without a word. Makes me think you don’t like talking to ol’ Gary.” He stepped closer, his hands fidgeting by picking the seems on the edge of the pillowcase. “Besides, you have quite the place Downtown; why stay at this lice fest?” He practically giggled at the shiver that gave you. Sure, you knew that the place wasn’t that bad, but even the thought of the little critters made your cold blood run colder.

You easily let that pass over you though, and bounced back with asking, “Been there, have you?”

Gary shrugged and smugly replied, “Not my fault for being curious after a meeting close by. Why did they design the vents to be so large in those apartments?” His teeth were now on full display in all their tangled glory with how amused his teasing made him.

“To let a nut job that parties with skeletons rifle through my unmentionables, apparently.” You had closed your eyes again at this point and started to relax. “And, why would you of all people be worried if this place has head lice? Not like it would be a problem in your case.”

When there was no reply you opened your eyes again to see that Gary had managed to move even closer to you without creaking the floor this time. His face was less gleeful, but his eyes still had a mirth to them that let you know even though he was sore from being on the opposite end of the teasing, it was still all in good fun. “You planning on holding that pillow the whole time you’re here?” You asked.

“Thinkin' about smothering you with it.” He teased.

“I don’t think that would do much.” You snickered at the thought of suffocating someone who doesn’t breathe anymore.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t give it a try.” Gary’s smile was back, but you only saw it for a second before all you could see was the intricate detail of the stitching of the cloth pillowcase just barely illuminated by the lamplight of the room through the corner with the least pressure. While you were struggling to get the over-laundered yet still slightly musty-smelling pillow off of your face, you almost missed the feeling of the bed dipping down beside you when the pressure finally released. As you thought, Gary had either walked around or even climbed over you to sit on the other side of the bed.

He seemed to pick up on the fact that if you still could, you would have started to get rosy from how close the two of you were. Not that he thought too much about his ability to make people do that anymore, but he knew that there was something to be said about touch starvation, something that most kindred struggled with, making the simple act of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with someone more intimate than it used to. “This alright, boss? I did come all the way here to see you, so I should get to sit down at least a minute.”

You just scoffed, knowing that he was going to whether you said yes or not; though you did think that if it really seemed to bother you Gary would have left. He might be a little self-absorbed, but he was not a total jerk. It did seem like he was planning on staying for the long haul as he had grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Before you questioned it, he explained, “Gotta take advantage of this while I can. Bad reception where I live, ya know.”

“Are the others going to be alright with you gone this long?” You asked as shut your eyes and let the colors of the changing channels pulse through your eyelids in a lazy light show.

“Eh, they’re a smart bunch. They can handle me being out for the night. And, if Gehenna comes while I’m gone, they’ll know how to find me.” He chuckled before stopping on a movie. He only kept it on for a few minutes before starting his surf again. “Change your mind?” You asked about it, still not opening your eyes again. “Absolutely. These new actors and their, ‘talent,’ if that’s what you could call it! Probably find more convincing performances if you called the desk and asked for a smut channel.”

This gave you a smirk similar to his from earlier. “Gary Golden! Are you suggesting we watch porn together?” you teased. This seemed to actually ruffle his feathers and he was quick to correct your accusation. “Absolutely not! What sort of man do you take me for?”

You shrugged, “The kind that’s been stuck being the king of the sewers for at least the last two decades. Can’t imagine there’s many opportunities for dates down there.” This made him catch on that you weren’t being serious, so he took the extra pillow out of your hold, whacked you in the face with it, and then propped it behind himself to sit more comfortably.

Finally, he found something that he was content in watching. Based on the heavy use of brass and string instruments along with climbing scales in the music, this was something from the ’40s. “You know this one, huh?” You teased his ever stagnate taste in films. There was a raspy cackle next to you. “You could say that, boss.”

While the introduction credits were playing through, you subconsciously rested your head on Gary’s shoulder. He was very aware of this development and thought about saying something about it. But, he decided fairly quickly that he didn’t mind; he rather enjoyed it actually. “Listen, kid, about what I actually came here for. It was about those things we’ve been dealing with.” He stopped his thought and took a deep breath to clear his head, his undead body stilling completely again after. “Look, after dealing with some of the more nasty ones myself, I realize that you went through hell to do what you did alone the first time through.”

There was another pause. “Now, I don’t want people thinking I’ve gone soft, so I’m just gonna say this once. Thanks for everything.”

You smiled at the gesture but didn’t say anything as you knew it would just make him more awkward than he seemed to already feel by just working out that thank you. That’s when you heard him start to speak again, this time it wasn’t half as graveled as it usually was, but you would describe it as grainy. So, that’s where he knew this movie from.

“Listen here, you! When we first met you were nothin’ but a scruffed-up, snot-nosed kid that didn’t know up from down! I helped get you here, and what thanks do I get?” The ghost of Gary past razzed the character playing opposite of him in the scene. You heard the present-day Gary mumbling something while the leading lady replied, but you didn’t quite catch what it was. The next line let you know that he was quoting the lines in time with the movie. He must have revisited this one often.

“Well, what sort of thanks do you think a fellow in my position is entitled to?” Both Garys said at once. The sudden swelling of the strings in the music let you know what the thanks was; cracking an eye open did indeed show two people in the midst of an MPAA-approved kiss. This was followed by the woman slapping him.

“What? You’re not gonna reenact that scene?” You snickered.

“Depends, am I going to get that reaction?” He teased back.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot more going for you than whoever that guy with the babyface in the movie did.” You elbowed him a bit.

Gary let out a still playful, yet slightly bitter chuckle, “Babyface, huh? Well, at least I had something back then. Now I fit into pageant shows with Count Orlock and The Phantom of the Opera.” This made you frown. He was easily sent into taking digs at himself, and sometimes it was difficult to tell what would set it off. “Be nice to yourself.” You scolded, “I’m sure a lot less has changed about you than you think.”

He hummed in thought before grumbling, “Sure, there’s plenty unchanged about me, at least as far as personality goes. Still as troublesome and cocksure as ever. But, we can both agree, the physical presentation’s not what it used to be. I’m still a lot of things, but kissable ain’t one of ‘em.” The last part was sprinkled with a resigned chuckle.

“That’s not true.” You were starting to fade off again and simply in contradict Gary mode that you didn’t think of the implications of what you just said.

Gary’s pointed ears went at attention at this, and a moment later a grin that spelled misery for you crept onto his face. “Oh, is that so, boss?” He purred and pulled the classic move of stretching his arm before wrapping it around your shoulder. This made everything click for you causing your head to shoot up from his shoulder as you tried to explain what you meant. There was little more than babbling that made it out of you before you were silenced by a thumb resting on your lips. “Ah, ah, ah~ You said what you said. Don’t try and lie about it now.”

Between the way his voice rumbled, how close he was to you, and the gentle, playful scrape of his claw against your lips and chin as he moved his thumb away, you couldn’t help the shiver that shook through your whole body. “Gary, I-“

“Misspoke. I know.” He chuckled, and despite his cheerful nature, there was still some level of disappointment in his demeanor that he simply couldn’t hide. “I was just pullin’ your leg. I never thought you would actually want to get that close with something like me.” He turned back to his movie, took his arm from around you, and muttered, “Who would?”

A scene went by with him focusing on the tv and you thinking quietly. Eventually, you shared what was on your mind. “Gary, I am going to do something in the immediate future that will most likely get me killed. But, I’ve decided that it will be a hell of a way to go out.” This concerned him, to say the least. But, seeing as you both had been teasing each other the whole night, his curiosity won over his concern.

“Really? And, what would that b-“

Gary let out a startled yell that was muffled by your lips landing on his. You had maneuvered yourself so that one of your legs was across one of his putting you halfway into his lap so that you could reach his face. Just as you went to pull away, Gary gave a dark, almost sinister chuckle. “Oh, no. You get your ass back over here.” He growled as he pulled you all the way onto his lap so that he got a firm hold on you.

“So, you think you can just kiss the Gary Golden and get away with it?” He tsked at you, claws drumming against the arms they were holding. “Where are your manners, boss? At least give a guy a heads-up before pulling a stunt like that.” One of his nails ran a line down the back of your arm, which sent another shiver through you. “You’ve been doin’ that a lot tonight, boss. Is it really that cold in here? Or, is it the thing that goes bump in the night chilling you to your core?”

“Perhaps, chilling isn’t what’s going on in this shameful, little body I’m holding.” He leaned to purr into your ear as crooked fangs threatened to pierce it, “Seems to me you might be heating up.”

You let out a whimper, which was met with an extremely humored laugh. “Christ, you’re easy.” Gary looked pleased with himself when he leaned back against the headboard and continued in a more neutral tone, “Guess you would have to be to want to kiss a mug like mine.”

“Hey!” You huffed at him insulting you both in one fell swoop.

“Look, I’m not complaining. Still holding your-kiss-stealing-self, aren’t I?” Gary snickered as his hands went from your arms to your back, talons lightly drawing patterns there. But, then something seemed to flash through his mind and his hold loosened so that his arms were simply resting on you rather than doing any actual holding. A defeated sigh escaped his nose. “Listen, if you were just doing this to try to show some pity to this ol’ sewer rat, then…”

Gary trailed off, but you got the gist of what he was thinking. “No, I really wanted to do that. For a while now actually. Not easy to get a moment to express that to someone as important and overall just busy as you are.” The hand you rested on his jaw seemed magnetic as his face was almost magically drawn to lean into it. Being himself, however, Gary only let this softer side show for a few moments before he was on the prowl once more.

“For a while now? Well, then who am I to disappoint? I do have a score to settle with you anyways. You still stole that kiss from me after all.” One of his hands moved to the back of your neck to gently push you forward while he sat up from the headboard to meet you halfway. The kiss was certainly longer than the first one, which was only a half step above being a peck. It was both soft, but earnest, reflective of Gary wanting this to be genuine, but still a bit fearful that it was your idea of a sick joke. Soon though, that fear was thrown away, at least for now, by the old playboy in him resurfacing after years of little activity. And, before you knew it, the tone of the kiss had changed to something so heated and animalistic that for a moment you feared he would go into a frenzy.

It subsided soon after, and he kissed a trail down your neck and across your shoulder where he had pulled your shirt collar to the side to access more of your skin.

“So, that makes us even, right?” You teased and Gary hummed to acknowledge he was listening to you when he was in fact not, more busy trying to place his lips and scrape his teeth against any part of your shoulder he could get to. “Hey.” You tugged on the pointed end of his ear to get his attention. He grunted and moved away from your ruined shirt collar to look at you, his eyes filled with annoyance and adoration at the same time.

“That makes us even? I kissed you- you kissed me?” You asked again while playing with the edges of his now half-undone tie. That dark yet playful, and what you could now see as possessive demeanor took over him again as suddenly picked you up, then maneuvered you both so that you were against the headboard and he was leaning over you, making you feel surrounded by him. “I’m afraid not. What you should’ve found out before pulling that little stunt of yours is that I charge interest, sweetheart.”

Gary pushed himself to be chest to chest with you before giving you another kiss, this one as possessive as the rest of his mood. He broke it only briefly after the first few passes to growl in a sinfully monstrous tone, “And, you’re gonna be payin’ it back for a long time.”