#but i figured you'd be more interested in reading this?

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Haechan x f!idol!reader

summary: what better way to promote your new music than to do an interview with your boyfriend?! Does he know that? No!

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were grinning widely as you sat in the pink chair. You bowed to the camera introducing yourself with an excited smile, "Hi everybody! I'm so excited to be here today. The staff and I have planned a bit of a prank today."

Your friendship with Haechan had started when you debuted. Haechan was one of the first idols around your age that you felt comfortable with. He was funny, nice, and was a good friend. He gave you a lot of advice on how to handle the long days, how to speak up with your company, and how to take care of yourself when it all got to be too much. And perhaps... taking care of yourself meant indulging in your friendship with Haechan, in private and in public.

The fans had surprisingly been pretty cool about both of you being close. It wasn't very often that fans got to see two idols from different companies have a genuine friendship. They liked seeing the two of you play around backstage, the random mention of each other in YouTube vlogs or lives, and the very few and far between posts you shared of each other.

When the edits evolved from 8 whole minutes of the two of you being the best of friends to the both of you being secretly in love for 11 minutes, maybe, just maybe, you both began to see each other in a new way. Maybe you guys went on a date to test the waters and maybe that date meant that the two of you became something more and maybe this video would be one of the first times you both directly acknowledged your romantic relationship. Well, beyond standard wordy posts that your companies put out to disclose your relationship.

You smile at the camera, "today I will be pranking my boyfriend Haechan. He thinks he's doing this interview with someone else and has no clue its me!"

Finally, on the other side of the wall, enters the set and sits himself in the blue chair, "Hello, I am Haechan from NCT. Today I will be using the screen name Sunshine and I am excited to figure out my partner is. I think I'll figure it out very easily."

On your side of the wall you, cup a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle, "I'm going to be so annoying!"

"Hey," you type, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing.

"Oh, it's starting!" you hear Haechan exclaim. You phone vibrates with a message that reads, 'hey.'

"Geez, he's really boring isn't he? Let's make this more exciting!" You laugh, typing back something you don't think you'd ever tell your boyfriend to his face, "wow, I know this is a handsome man I'm talking to. Tell me, are you handsome?"

Haechan flushes in front of the pink wall with his jaw dropped in shock, "w-what?!"

You calm down a bit, not being as bold with your flirtation so that the both of you could progress the conversation. You both make small talk, talking about base level interests. Then comes the home screen exchange. You'd been preparing for this!

Since no one ever really saw your homescreens, you and Haechan had decided to have cute matching backgrounds, a cute couples selfie you'd taken together. What he didn't know, and you didn't tell him because he was so whiny, was that you had changed it. So he sent you an blurred version of his usual background, a picture of the two of you with you biting his cheek and his eyes screwed shut laughing. You knew the picture well, not only because you lived it but also because you had the picture that followed as your own background before you changed it for this interview.

Haechan's phone dropped from his hands, eyes blown wide in shock again. The staff were busy laughing behind the camera while you sat with a smug smile, listening for his reaction. "Is this real? Is this actually your background?" You read the message that had been sent to you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You message him back.

Haechan doesn't even look at his phone again, he locks his screen and sets it on his thigh. He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, "how do you turn someone down nicely?"

You bite your lip when you hear that. Your plan had worked, your precious Haechan was flushed and embarrassed. You type back, "do you know NCT Haechan? He's so talented and funny. I'm a big fan, are you?"

"Yeah, it couldn't be more obvious," Haechan grumbles, staring at the homescreen. He can't look at any of the apps or notifications because he's staring at his own face! A collage of pictures of him-- only him. Pictures of him from his debut to pictures of him from his last performance.

Maybe he was speaking to some kind of comedian, it was some kind of joke that happened to revolve around him. He'd watched some of these interviews before and it never worked out that one person knew who they were texting and the other didn't. This had to be some kind of strange coincidence.

He somehow expertly turned the conversation around, evading your question and changed the conversation into something more lighthearted. Then comes the first Would You Rather. The question: would you rather make a burping sound while farting or farting sound while burping?

You take a second to think, considering the question then finally send your answer, "I think I'd rather make a farting sound while burping."

"Really?" Haechan replies, "why is that? I mean I agree, but I'm curious to hear your reasoning?"

"Tell me yours first," you reply.

"Well mostly I don't want to feel the rumbling feeling of a burp in my butt," Haechan types out.

"He's so gross," you mutter as you read the screen, "he's such a guy." And yet you type out a message, "wow, that's so manly of you.."

Haechan runs his hand through his hair, "how would someone read that and find it attractive?"

Again, he doesn't address your flirting. He maneuvers around it, he doesn't want to be the guy that hurts yours or anyone's feelings, even a stranger's.

By the time the both of you get to the end of the interview having just sent the most recent pictures in your camera roll to each other, Haechan feels a horrible ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. You had sent him a picture of a flower from some bush outside and he had sent you a picture of the products that had been used on his face before the interview. (He'd sent the picture to you.) How is he going to handle this?!

He looks up from yet another flirty message with a look of unease, "you guys don't do these things with crazy fans right?"

The staff reassure him that no, they absolutely would not ever do anything to put him or anyone else in harm's way. His partner is just a silly person, a jokester.

You, on the other hand, are a ball of excitement to reveal yourself. The time comes to meet your partner, though you already know yours. You prop yourself on the wall, one hand outstretched against the wall and the other on your hip.

Haechan rounds the corner and sees you. You flip your hair, winking at him with a, "hey, handsome."

He falls to his knees, hand clutched over his heart while he lets out a sigh of relief and a loud exaggerated whine, "how could my own lover do this to me?!"

It takes both you and the staff to calm Haechan down, but you eventually get him to sit in the chair of the high top table and get the frown off his face. He's still pouty of course, and he lets you know so, "how could you do this to me?"

"With the help of my managers, your managers, the production here at Kode... duh," you answer, squeezing his knee beneath the table reassuringly.

"You're so funny," he deadpans, "but seriously, I was so stressed that I was going to have to see a real life crazy person and turn them down while maintaining my safety. Thank goodness it was a real life crazy person I already knew."

You shove his shoulder with a laugh, "so you had no clue who it was?"

"Absolutely no clue," Haechan confirms, "I did think that this was going to be easy at first, but you came on so strong that I had to mostly focus on getting us to have a normal, not flirty conversation. Did you have fun stressing me out, my menace?"

"The best time ever," you nod with a proud smile.

Haechan lets out a breathy laugh, more of a soft exhale of air as he pulls your hand up and pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, "I'm never doing an interview with you ever again."

"You say that now, but you're my biggest fan. Don't you want me to be successful? How can I be successful if even my handsome, sunbaenim boyfriend won't help me?" You tease, looking at him with a look all too innocent to be real.

"Oh right. Please make sure to check out my girlfriend's first solo debut. The music is amazing, her voice sounds like angels singing, the music videos are award winning, the outfits are out of this world and there is nothing like it in all the world. Please support her... or I will have to," Haechan states with a fake smile while looking right into the lens of the camera, letting his smile drop into a pleading face for the ending.

"Yes, please make sure to check out my solo! I appreciate it," you smile at the camera, bowing to show your gratitude. While you fulfill your promoting duties you miss the adoring look on Haechan's face. The way his eyes soften and he looks at you with a calm, serene look of love.

You look at him with a soft smile, "can you forgive me for my prank?"

He tugs you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, "I can make an exception if you promise this will be the last time you prank me."

"Well, of course," you answer too quickly. A lie, of course.

The conversation between you dwindles down and the two of you take your selfie. You smile brightly at the camera with your head tucked beneath Haechan's chin, Haechan smiles sweetly at the camera with his usual close-lipped smile. It's the first selfie as a romantic couple that anyone will see of the two of you and it makes you slightly nervous, but more than anything you're excited for people to see just a sliver of the dynamic you and Haechan share, the love that's there.

"Thank you to the team at Kode for having us and thank you to the fans in advance for all the love and support. I hope you love it," you smile at the cameras.

The video ends with the screen fading to black, but if fans listen closely, they can hear Haechan reassuring you, "everyone is going to love it, honey. How could they not love anything you do?"

[transmutationisms]

hello! I remember you making a post mentioning Margaret Sanger + eugenics recently… I’m wondering if you might be willing to share more thoughts on the relationship between Sanger, eugenics, and the birth control movement? or if you have any recs for papers to read on this topic? thanks in advance if u have anything to share!

yeah i stuck some reading under the cut for length but basically and reductively this has become a poisoned discursive well because reactionaries of various stripes have discovered that Sanger was a racist eugenicist, and have also discovered that if you say that about a public figure, a certain brand of liberal will immediately rush to condemn the person with little to no reflection on what the significance of their objectionable beliefs might historically have been, so now every family values white supremacist thinks they are the cleverest boy in the world for being like "erm actually Planned parenthood was founded by a eugenicist" and the best response the average liberal can come up with is "[splits hairs] no it wasn't".

in reality what they should be saying instead is more along the lines of: this is because eugenics and white supremacy were incredibly popular politics in the usa in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and were ideologies that united public health champions (& political figures in general) from across the 'left–right political spectrum'. additionally Sanger's rhetoric varied over time and by audience, though i'm not really interested in doing rehabilitative work for her historical image and mostly bring this up to demonstrate that eugenics was so popular it was widely rhetorically advantageous to throw support for it, whether you were a feminist demanding access to birth control or a garden-variety misogynist opposed to reproductive autonomy.

anyway Sanger's legacy and the legacy of US feminists in general simply has to account for the fact that both 'pro-life' and 'pro-choice' policy demands can be weaponised either for increased reproductive autonomy or for eugenic endeavours. it's not the [contraception / abortion / etc] in itself that creates the eugenics, and banning contraception or abortion doesn't solve the problem of capitalism nurturing and relying on eugenics (as disingenuous reactionaries already well know). a lot of right-wing writing on Sanger is indeed trumped-up, poorly substantiated, de-contextualised shock tactics—also, she did genuinely espouse a lot of racism and eugenics.

none of this is really relevant to the political question of whether, moving forward, reproductive autonomy ought to be ensured (it ought). but, it is certainly relevant to the question of why the us feminist movement has done a generally middling job of securing access to things like contraception and abortion: in part, this is because it has long been a movement that sacrificed an actual commitment to providing healthcare in an extremely unwise series of faustian racism bargains that (at best) framed reproductive rights in a very negative, libertarian-inflected way, and (at worst) threw over the principles altogether and wilfully ignored or even participated in the establishment of eugenic policies expressly designed to constrain the reproductive autonomy of racialised, poor, and disabled women.

Dorothy Roberts talks about feminist eugenics broadly, including some remarks on Sanger, in Killing the Black Body (1997)

Peter Engelmann's A History of the Birth Control Movement in America (2011) pretty much what it says on the tin; my notes from when I TA'd bioethics say we focussed on the introduction and chapters 1 and 3

Evolution and Eugenics in American Literature and Culture, 1880-1940: Essays on Ideological Conflict and Complicity (2003) ed. Lois Cuddy and Claire Roche has at least one chapter you'd probably find useful

there's also this annotated bibliography on Sanger but it's from the 80s, so the real value-add is if you want to see contemporaneous writings about her, or you want a list of her own actual publications. I don't know whether this is still considered a comprehensive list of the 70-odd years it does cover!

a couple dissertations, even though these are generally not as valuable citation-wise as published books or articles:

International Intercourse: Establishing a Transnational Discourse on Birth Control in the Interwar Era (2004) by Julie L Thomas, Indiana University

Feminist Eugenics in America: From Free Love to Birth Control, 1880–1930 (2006) by Susan Marie Rensing, University of Minnesota

[sarcasticgaypotato]

The Best Solution

On cold, clear nights that bathed the world in pale blue light, Chell turned her chin up and looked at the sky.

She was not afflicted with the condition known as ‘sentimentality,’ no matter how many scorch-marked, heart-adorned metal cubes got thrown her way and left behind in fields of wheat a hundred miles away. But the ravaged surface world offered her little (save for her own freedom) and the nights were as quiet and lonely as the days, just without an excuse to fill her time by finding something to busy herself with under the light of the sun.

So, she looked upward and let her mind wander.

Every streak of a shooting star she hoped was a certain circular heap of scrap metal finally burning up in the atmosphere.

“Let go! I’m still connected. I can pull myself in.”

Of course he could. If she had given him half a chance, he would’ve pulled himself back in just fine—and let her fly off into space without a second thought if it would save his own steel.

The cold vacuum of space. When she closed her eyes, Chell could still feel it in the wind that tickled the stray hairs on the back of her neck, in the cold that stole the breath from her lungs as she gasped it. That rush of weightlessness, her eyes watering and freezing her eyelashes together, and that pit in her stomach that said, after everything she had survived, this might be it.

She stared up at the moon; a pale white beauty, once near enough for Chell to reach out and touch, now as distant as ever. A sliver in the night sky, it grinned down at her with a smile that knew the taste of her fear. An untouchable queen who would have her head, if she had her way. Chell would have called it as familiar as it was deadly, if not for one thing that nagged at her mind as she stared, lost among stars and memories alike.

This was always the point in her late-night stargazing that Chell started scratching absentmindedly at her wrist, where the phantom burn of cold metal claws still seared into her skin.

Chell never fell for any of GLaDOS’s tricks; she knew her too well. That hate was familiar, expected. Working together in Old Aperture was a surprise only for a moment; it was logical if they wanted to survive. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or “Everybody likes revenge,” as a certain someone had put it. 

She trusted GLaDOS’s intelligence enough to know that she would play nice for as long as they had a shared goal, and for as long as Chell held all the power. Don’t bite the hand that holds your consciousness trapped in a potato battery, or something like that.

Chell had even been fairly confident that after they beat Wheatley (she never had any doubt that they would), as long as she kept her guard up and an eye on her, GLaDOS wouldn’t risk betraying her. The world’s most intelligent lifeform had finally learned that Chell wasn’t worth crossing—it only took two losing battles for the lesson to sink in.

GLaDOS would keep her end of the bargain as long as it was convenient to do so. That was why Chell couldn’t make sense of what happened. No matter how many times she replayed those seconds in her head, watching her own memories in slow motion as GLaDOS knocked Wheatley free of the chassis and sent him spinning into space, robbing Chell of her only anchor to Earth. 

Freefall. 

Could you call it falling without gravity? Spinning, flailing, her body wrenched outward, seconds away from dying in space, embarrassingly outlived by the very same moron who was responsible for this whole mess. In the second that she had to process her impending death, Chell took a small hint of satisfaction in knowing that at least she took him down with her. Sure, the lack of air wouldn’t kill him as quickly as it would her, but he was far from a self-proclaimed king of Aperture out here. He was nothing but a hunk of junk destined to get knocked around by asteroids like a pinball. At least GLaDOS had a death worth bragging about under her non-existent belt; Chell had blown her to bits in what she would humbly call ‘a spectacular fashion.’

GLaDOS. Was her last thought before unconsciousness took her going to be about GLaDOS? How apt. GLaDOS would’ve loved to hear that, not that Chell would’ve ever told her, even if she had the chance.

She wouldn’t have the chance. She wasn’t supposed to.

When Chell felt that familiar metal claw clamp around her wrist, the first thought her fading consciousness could conjure was that GLaDOS wanted to be personally responsible for flinging her out into space, maybe so she could get a good spin on the throw. The realization that GLaDOS was pulling her in, back towards Earth, to safety, was one that proved entirely too much for her oxygen-deprived brain to process. So, she passed out.

GLaDOS could have done nothing at all, and Chell would have died. If she wanted the satisfaction of doing it herself, she could have crushed her under a metal plate or thrown her in the incinerator while she was unconscious. Instead, GLaDOS saved her life, watched over her recovery until she awoke, and then … let her go with only a bit of theatrics and nothing else. 

She pinned the blame on Caroline and made a big show of deleting her, neither of which Chell believed for a second. That golden eye took her in, unflinching, with the same inscrutable expression before and after the automated voice cheerfully announced Caroline’s removal. A long dead secretary Chell had never crossed paths with had nothing to do with this; there was no difference between the GLaDOS that pulled her from space and the GLaDOS who watched the elevator ascend to the surface now.  

This was all her, and she was supposed to give them both a satisfying conclusion to them parting ways with weapons lowered, standing (even if one of them didn’t have legs) on equal ground. GLaDOS was supposed to make this easy by sending her off with an insult or a half-hearted threat of one last murder attempt for old times’ sake.

“Killing you is hard.”

Liar. 

Killing me would have been easy if you wanted to.

Why didn’t you want to?

[forbiddentaako]

Hi, sorry for bothering you and feel completely free not to answer this if you don't want to or aren't interested in it anymore, but I just really like your Devil's Carnival AU and I'd love to know more about it so dropping some questions here 👀 sorry if they're too many!

1. How do you imagine Charlie's and Vaggie's relationship developing? They obviously meet in "After the fall", right after Vaggie's fall from grace, but when did they start dating? How did it happen? Since in canon one of the things Vaggie loves about Charlie is her kindness and compassion towards sinners, how does that translate into this AU, where Charlie is less sunshine-y?

2. Does your idea involve Lute being more like Cora or like the Agent? With this I mean whether she has feelings for Vaggie which she hides because they're "inappropriate and illegal" or if she's courting Vaggie because Adam asked her to as a way to expose Vaggie while she's internally praying for her not to do something stupid and prove Adam right. I think you kind of explained it already in your other post but I didn't fully get it 🥲

3. Slightly related to the previous one but how does Vaggie fall? Is it for the same reasons as June?

4. Have you thought of roles for characters like Husk, Alastor or Niffty?

5. What do you think would happen in this AU in a hypothetical 3rd movie?

Your art style is so beautiful btw! You're such a talented artist :)

You are literally doing the opposite of bothering me don't worry I got so excited seeing this ask in my inbox you have no idea fsgsghskbds i have everything under read more bc it turned out long but thank you so much for the compliment on my art and also for this ask !!!

1:

More or less vaggie and charlie getting together is closer to how it happened in hazbin hotel since i feel like part of it is the similarities of vaggie meeting charlie immediately after her fall and charlie still being kind and helping her which is the start of their connection, and overtime they grow closer and end up falling in love. I do like to think it did take them a while to get together but it was over the course of getting to know one another and their passions/dreams/ect that they began to truly understand who the other was and fall for them.

A little side note off of that which is relevant to understanding a less sunshiny charlie and how it translates to chaggie; with this particular role for charlie it has her mirroring aspects of both of her parents by design, but her character motivations are still very rooted in the fact that she is kind and believes in the good of sinners, heaven has just pushed her too far. Like even tho she's technically fulfilling lucifer's role from the devil's carnival, in doing so she's bearing more similarities to lilith's role in hell in hazbin in that she empowers sinners with her voice (in this case particularly any who've fallen from heaven since it seems like in the devil's carnival this was an occurrence that happened multiple times). And that kind of motivates her disdain for heaven to see how easily they cast out those who don't live up to their standards + with the obvious hypocrisy in how adam acts it makes her more disillusioned with the whole system altogether that heaven stands for and perpetuates (like lucifer hazbin hotel), which is what results in her saying 'fuck it' and just send sinners up there.

originally i was thinking the first movie didn't quite fit for charlie in lucifer's role because it does seem kind of cruel the way the sinners are tormented and it felt like it deviated from charlie's character, but i changed my mind after seeing the second bc i think it could read as a misguided attempt at redemption playing by heaven's rules of shunning what's perceived as sin (which we do see charlie try to do in the actual show) rather than her more trust exercises/team building route she goes for in hazbin. Like for charlie i think she'd genuinely think she's helping to try and get each of them to realize what sin they've committed for redemption's sake but hits her breaking point with heaven by the end. Probably from a mix of not fully believing some of the sins committed warrant eternal damnation (I feel like angel in particular with this one is especially sad because its unclear whether or not tamara ever does get sent to heaven/redeemed?) and being pissed at how hypocritical adam is by engaging in the same sins he's damning people to hell for. Charlie sending trains of sinners up isnt just a passive aggressive thing to do to heaven to shun her role as their torturer but also a statement that sinners and winners are one in the same-like she's completely giving up on trying for redemption within heaven's rules and just showing them that if they continue with this hypocrisy and cruelty, redemption is unnecessary bc these sinners fit right in as flawed as they are. I think this would also make Adam's damage control before 'bells of black sunday' especially insulting to charlie as well.

And vaggie sees that compassion in charlie when they first meet and she is kind to her in her lowest point, but realizes how much deeper it goes the more they get to know one another. In this AU also charlie knew from the beginning that vaggie was a former exorcist, but finding out why she fell was probably something that happened later on. (I do think the idea of them first starting to spend more time together by reading Aesop's fables to one another would be really cute too, like charlie likely reads stories to most new sinners to help with the transition to hell but vaggie shows so much genuine interest that it becomes a routine for them)

(Another side note; I think a scene in the actual film which supports a well intentioned charlie and works well for her character is the one with the devil and the ticket keeper towards the end of the second movie when the ticket keeper confronts lucifer about his plan. Like its vox yelling at charlie that heaven will try to fuck them up because of what she's doing, and him saying that he is the one who'll be standing on the tracks to push her out of the way, but charlie getting angry at this and saying she would never let him do that and that she will be on the tracks with him, and then she tells him her plan finally. I think this scene works well because it not only shows charlie's devotion to her ideas and to those she cares about, but also the disconnect between her intentions and her actions that could allow for the first movie's plot of torturing sinners to be born out of a want to help them. Because in this case she does have a well thought out plan and everything is done with intent, but vaggie is the only one who really knows this so to vox it seems like shes being reckless and impulsive due to how she's been acting, and heaven also isn't really understanding the message in the way she wanted.)

2:

With Lute and vaggie i think i have a clearer idea of what's going on now than when i first made the post in summary because i think lutes role is dependent on if we're talking in the plot or if we're talking in relation to vaggie. I think adam probably still wanted her to get closer to Vaggie and prove she wasn't worthy of heaven/it was a test of loyalty for lute to betray her but the feelings between them that developed were ones that Lute definitely deemed to be 'inappropriate and illegal'. I think they probably could have had their romantic moments between them still in secret but after getting found out and confronted by the watchword Lute realized because she had fallen for vaggie she was resigned to letting vaggie fall so she wouldn't have to deal with the fact that she loved her or get caught having a secret relationship with her. Like externally they present similarly to the agent and june with their respective roles in the narrative, but in terms of who they are to one another it's was closer to what cora and june had going on.

With their plot as well I feel like some of the heaven caste system needs to be examined/adjusted so it better fits them, but I haven't had the time to dig into it as it exists in the film enough that I feel comfortable deconstructing and reconstructing it just yet. Definitely working on it though !

3:

And going off of this I think when vaggie fell Lute took the opportunity to make it look like she had acted calculated and callously this whole time as to maintain adam's respect as well as prove her loyalty, when in reality that was very much not the case and she did really care for vaggie at one point but forced herself to hate her because of what loving her would mean. I also think vaggie's fall would be something tied to kindness rather than ambition because it follows more closely to what happened in hazbin and also would probably endear her to charlie more when she finds out (and make her angrier at heaven), but Im also not 100% sure what that would look like in terms of how it plays out in the film.

4:

So I have thought a bit of nifty/alastor/husk though they are more unsure in who they'd be. I am kind of stuck on the idea of Alastor as the publicist in his more positive sense because I think it fits and i think it'd be cool to incorporate more physical radio aspects into his design in the same way that the publicist has the horn attached at his ear (plus mimzy can be there too as one of the songbirds). I do also like the idea of him playing the role of the watchword to some extent (just keeping it solely to radio) bc he loves drama. Partly because I think it fits to let him be in heaven but still be an absolute menace to the general public, and partly because i think its funny to keep Al and Vox separated like toddlers who will start a fight with one another if left alone for too long. I had thought about having vox as the watchword and alastor as the publicist, but I kind of like the 'charlie works with the vees' plot a bit too much to separate vox from them. With Husk and Niffty I go back and forth on who they'd play, partly bc when i was originally brainstorming this au with a friend we thought husk could be the hobo clown but that was also when we were thinking Alastor as Lucifer's role instead of charlie (and this was before I had watched the second movie so the cast overall was very different) so im not entirely sure. If we're going with carnie roles for them i think husk as the hobo clown or the magician i can live with and niffty as one of the bayonets maybe. But having Alastor in heaven kind of throws off the dynamic so im unsure fully where to put them.

5:

The idea of what would happen in a third movie is SO INTERESTING and I hadn't even thought about it. I think part of this AU deviates from the movie to be more chaggie focussed so I imagine a third movie could focus more on their relationship as well, maybe even delving into them bonding over their shared plan to overthrow heaven and we'd get to see that development of the plan/their relationship in the flashbacks with the present being them actually enacting their plan. Like they are a power couple and share each other's passion, and theyre really the only 2 who actually know what the plan is. I think by this point vox would have been told the plan by charlie in the previous movie so he would have to also help get the carnies organized and on board. There'd also have to be some scenes in heaven with Adam losing it as his control of heaven falters, plus finding out whats going on with the sinners sent to heaven. Really theres just a ton of possibilities since the actual third movie was never made.

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[teaboot]

do you think i'll ever get to a place in my life where i'm actually a good person and i don't keep getting bombarded with people telling me all the ways i'm doing things wrong. will i ever stop feeling like i'm faking being good and i'm actually a despicable person deep down inside like there's something rotten and irremovable in the very core of me. i feel sick

As a recovering self-hater I have a few things that have been helping

Truly shitty people are typically, in my experience, not chronically preoccupied with anxieties that they need to be better. It seems to be the 100% rock-solid certainty that everything you ever do is selfless that you need to watch out for.

Motive only matters in court. If you donate 30 hours a week to charity so you can tell yourself you're a good person or you donate that same time because you genuinely enjoy helping people, that's still 30 hours, imo. At that point the argument is more philosophical than anything. The help is still happening.

Nobody can read your mind. You can be the bitterest, cattiest, most judgemental and mean-spirited motherfucker alive, but as long as you don't let your feelings hurt others, you're golden. In fact, I personally think you should get extra credit for effort. Swimming upriver ain't easy

None of us are selfless by nature. That's okay. We all crave attention, and validation, and comfort, and reward. That self-interest is a survival skill. It's not going anywhere and I don't think it should. The key is moderation, self control, and consideration for others.

The loudest voice in your head probably isn't yours. Survivors of all kinds of abuse- and all abuse is psychological to varying extremes- often keep their critic's narrative in their head. That voice that says you're awful- is that something you'd say to someone else? No? Then try to figure out who said it to you. They were probably an asshole. The voice that answers it it probably your own. Listen to that one

No, you will not feel like this forever. It's a pain in the ass, but dedicating time and thought into ignoring that inner critic and elevating your positive impulses is effective.

Some things I've done myself that seem to help:

Do some research on cognitive behavioral therapy and cognitive reprogramming. These are easier to exercise with a therapist but once you figure out the steps to follow you can do them on your own, too.

When you do something good, write it down for yourself. Keep a dated journal, either on paper or in your phone. When you find yourself in a pit of self-loathing, you can go back and remind yourself of all the good you've done. If this is hard, try listing 3 good things you did at the end of each day. Anything from picking up a scrap of litter to running a food drive.

Long post, but really, the best thing I can say is this:

Aything that takes effort is worth celebrating, even if that effort is minimal or that task is considered small.

At the end of the day, "bare minimum" isn't working a full-time job and eating three meals a day, cleaning up after yourself and doing it with a smile- bare minimum is nothing. Bare minimum is laying on the floor motionless for 24 hours and filter-feeding like a sea sponge. And if even that's difficult for you, then it's not your bare minimum, is it?

There's a lot of cruel, inconsiderate, uncaring people in the world, only out for themselves at the expense of others, and even if you think you're one of them, giving a shit about doing better still puts you a mile ahead of most.

Try not to worry too terribly. If you're thinking about it, you're probably doing fine👍

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[sohnric]

'cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in. /

starting univeristy with you has jake tumbling into a big, irrational fear of losing you to all the new cool kids in your orbit. little does he know, you'd always be rather stuck with him instead.

pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

genre: best friends to ?, fluff, slice of life. domestic and so cutesy i wanna cry. jake is an insecure wet puppy in this i wanna hold him☹️ nerdy shy introverted jakey!!!!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: building legos with jake is my deepest life dream 💔 thank you as always for beta reading my belovedest!!! @csenke

Eyes drifting from the small words and lined artwork in the manual to the crown of your head as you look down on the little building materializing right in your hands and then straight towards the wall behind you, Jake is almost too painfully aware of the time on the clock as you sit on top of his bed, enveloped by his red hoodie rather than the clothes he helped you pick out when you two went shopping together earlier in the day, chewing on the inside of his cheek and wondering when the time will come and you will leave his room to go do something better, something more exciting.

He curses himself in his head for being the way he is. For not being cool enough, for not being social enough to hold big parties he could invite you to, much like Lee Heeseung did, fitting snugly into your tonight’s schedule. For not being bold enough to flirt with you like all the new guys you’ve been meeting since the two of you got into university. For not telling everyone he is interested in you when they first asked him the question upon meeting the two of you in your shared classes. 

For not being loud and casual and funny like Jay is. For being nerdy and boring and maybe even a little shy. 

He curses himself out in his head for everything that makes him him, for everything he cannot change. It’s only been a few weeks since you two started university, and he already grew fifteen times more insecure than he was before– all because the painful realization that you won’t be around him, by his side forever, finally settled in after orientation– when he noticed the way you carry yourself and how it catches the eyes of many, and not just his.

It’s too late now to do anything, though. He will have to watch you slip from between his fingertips, he’s fully aware. Because you were invited to Lee Heeseung’s party– an upperclassman’s party– and an opportunity like this doesn’t get declined. 

The more he’s hypnotizing the clock on the wall, though, the more he’s concerned about the fact that you’re still residing in his dorm room instead of Lee Heeseung’s frat. And although he hates to see you leave, he doesn’t have it in him to stop his curiosity as he asks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be… like… on your way to Heeseung’s now?” he asks, voice coated with shyness mixed with curiosity, hating every single word that came out of his mouth.

“Hm?” you hum, looking up at him from under your eyelashes, a gaze that makes the boy immediately turn his head away and face his hands instead. “Oh, I dunno…” you trail off, not really giving him much of an explanation.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Why?”

Out of the periphery of his vision, he sees you shrug. “I don’t really feel like going.”

This sentence alone makes the boy’s mood immediately a thousand times better. He can’t show it on his face, though– that would surely raise some red flags for you. Knowing he can’t face you because you can read him too well, he avoids all possible eye contact as he focuses on the Lego scattered all across his blanket.

“Suddenly?” he hums. “You bought a whole new outfit for it, though..?” A whole new outfit that you looked great in, Jake mentally grunts. A whole new outfit to show off in in front of Lee Heeseung, a whole new outfit that hugs your figure just right and makes Jake’s heartbeat quicken, his palms sweating as you twirled in the clothes outside of the changing room back at the store, asking him how you look.

“I can wear those clothes anywhere,” you snicker. “I dunno, Jake, I think I changed my mind about the party…”

Don’t show any emotion. Don’t look happy about it, Jake has to remind himself. Stay cool, calm and collected.

“Why?” He has a lot of questions.

“Well, first of all, I don’t really know these people,” you say, laughing to yourself. Jake could argue with the fact that Park Sunghoon, his new roommate for the year that you met a load of times before since you hang out with Jake in his room often, would be there– he doesn’t, though. He listens to you as you continue. “I doubt I’d have fun there if I don’t know anyone.”

“I think meeting new people is kinda the point of a party, though, isn’t it?” he notes, earning a soft chuckle out of you.

“I guess… But I dunno, I think the moment I got to your room and we started building these, I was completely sold on just staying over and hanging out with you instead,” you mumble, tone of voice soft and tender, making Jake’s stomach buzz with a thousand fireflies, lighting up his intestines and making him warm all over.

He prays it doesn’t mirror on his cheeks. There’s nothing to blush about in such a simple statement, after all.

“Oh,” is the only thing that leaves his mouth, taking the new information in.

You chose to build Lego with him over going to one of the biggest frat parties of the year? You chose to hang out with him over Lee Heeseung? All of it is making Jake’s fingertips buzz with excitement, a satisfied smile begging to jump onto his cheeks– he keeps suppressing it, though. He’ll keep the celebrations to himself, after you leave.

“Besides,” you clear your throat, “I think it was rude of them to not… not invite you as well, y’know,” you note, shrugging, all nonchalant. 

Jake’s ears start ringing. He didn’t think you’d mention it– he didn’t even think you paid it much mind. 

He wasn’t bitter about not being invited to all the big, cool parties. He made a few new friends already, and they aren’t going either– it’s not like Lee Heeseung and his group are the only acquaintances he could hang out with. It stinged a little when he realized your new friend group was so much different to the one he was building for himself– merely because the fear of watching you detach yourself from him after seeing just how uncool he really is compared to all the fun, outgoing people you surround yourself with nowadays was too much for him to handle.

“Well, they are your friends, not mine,” he shrugs. “And I’m not exactly the party type,” he justifies.

“Well, no,” you admit, “but the invitation would’ve been nice anyway. You’re my best friend, of course I would wanna bring you along.”

Jake chuckles at your words. He’s your best friend– and something about that makes him both overjoyed and a little defeated at the same time.

“Y/N, look, I won’t be mad if you still wanna go. You don’t have to stay with me–”

“But I want to,” you cut him off, finally forcing the boy to meet your eyes. You smile at him all soft and gentle, making Jake melt away and bashfully grin at your hurried argument. “I’m having much more fun building these with you than getting drunk with Lee Heeseung in a frat somewhere, trust me.”

As if to further prove your point, you nestle a little in your place and stretch your legs out as you plop your back against the perpendicular wall, landing your limbs right into Jake’s lap. The boy swallows at the sudden act of affection from you, instinctively resting his forearms against your shins as he continues to work on the Lego set you two picked out together in the mall.

If there’s one thing Jake enjoys doing the most, it’s Lego. His impressive collection stayed back home, though, so you insisted that he has to get at least one set to build to display in his dorm room as well. Convincing him was hard only until you told him you will get one as well and build it with him eventually– not really knowing just yet that the time would come the same day, later in the evening.

The boy lets himself relax once the idea of you leaving any minute and forgetting all about him and the bond you two have is disapproved of by your own words. Eyes involuntarily landing on your face every few seconds and the relaxing, yet heart-palpitation inducing humming of a song unfamiliar to him are preventing him from fully focusing on the Lego set in his hands, making him fall behind. The realization of the fact has you furrowing your eyebrows at him once you finish building up the blocks in your own hands, shifting in your position so now you’re sitting back next to him, legs still hovering over his– making you basically sit in his lap– as you speak up close to his face, having the boy’s ears ring and palms sweat, clammy with the bricks in between his fingertips.

“What’s taking you so long? I swear I witnessed you building that huge Star Wars ship faster than this little thing,” you giggle, taking a block from the little hoard of them on the blanket in front of you two into your hands and offering it to the boy.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, swallowing hard as you help him build up the little structure, hands tangling with his, skin brushing against skin, the scent of your shampoo hitting him in the nose. 

It only takes you two a couple more minutes to finish building the little structure– since the Lego sets you bought were similar, which meant you already knew what you were doing– and as the Lego flowers sit right at Jake’s feet, he lets himself admire them for a bit. 

“You should put them on your table there,” you prompt, pointing towards the desk under the window that’s sitting right opposite of Jake’s bed. “I think it would look super cute.”

Jake nods. He thinks he’d agree with anything that ever comes out of your mouth.

“Put this one next to it,” you snicker as you drag your own Lego set into his point of vision, the sakura flowers making Jake’s poor heart jump, twisting his head to face you.

“Huh?” he voices out. “But that’s yours.”

You shrug. “I bought it for you, ‘cause you like Legos so much,” you hum. “Besides, you can always think of me when you see it on your desk,” you nod.

That’s a silly idea. Jake always thinks of you.

“But you bought it with your own money, you can’t just–”

“Watch me,” you laugh as you scramble to your feet, taking both of the Lego plants and putting them into the corner of the desk, to the opposite end than his lamp is situated, admiring your interior design work.

Jake quickly follows you with a pout on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sentiment, no– he just really dislikes the idea of you spending money on him. 

“Y/N, you spent money on that! I thought you were getting it so we could match and–”

You spin towards him, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat. It seems he didn’t successfully estimate the proximity of his body to yours as he was trying to take the Lego off the table, earning himself only a few centimeters between his and your face. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging agape– unknowingly making himself seem like an eager, adorable puppy– he can’t help it but let his eyes roam all over your features.

“You can buy me a real plant and I’ll keep that one on my desk, how about that?” you ask him sweetly, raising your brows at him and sending him that cute, cunning smile. 

Something about you right in this moment is making Jake’s blood boil hotter, your composure teasing, daring. The second your arms sneak around his neck, he’s a goner– he can’t think of anything else besides your sheer existence and how that alone makes him feel. What’s worse, he can’t put his attention anywhere but to your soft, plump lips. 

He thinks he’s going crazy. This is insane. If you like playing with him, then he’s happy enough to be your toy– anything but letting you go is good in his eyes.

He doesn’t allow himself to move. Having you like this is already enough for him– it’s far more intimate than anything he’s experienced with you, with anyone ever before– and it’s just a simple hug, goddamn it. You’re breathing the same air as you let your forehead rest against Jake’s, the action alone making him feel weak in his knees, a fit of fireworks erupting in his stomach harder than the New Year’s celebrations. 

He’s trying hard not to think about kissing you right now. Not because he doesn’t want to– no, he just believes you don’t want to. 

Because this is just what friends do on Friday evenings, right? 

Don’t get your hopes up, Jake thinks. You just finished building Lego together– how much of a loser can you really be?

Not enough to stop himself from imagining, it seems. 

Because your face moving towards his with unstoppable force can only ever be a dream– one he’s had far too many nights, far too often than he’d like to admit to himself. 

It feels so real, though? He almost lets himself believe it. He almost lets himself indulge in the fantasy– perhaps even make it a reality– before the bubble bursts itself and all his hopes and dreams with the sound of the door opening, making you jump away from him.

You should’ve locked the door, Jake curses at himself. Actually, no– that would be weird.

Either way, he can’t help but roll his eyes when he hears the voice of Park Sunghoon break the silence. 

“Yo, Y/N, are you coming or not? Heeseung texted me to ask about you. I can give you a lift, if you wanna, but I’m leaving, like, right now, so– did I interrupt something?” the taller boy finally realizes after you send him an annoyed look, the question so deadpan it has Jake cringing at the words.

“Yeah, no,” you clear your throat, dropping your arms and putting some space between you and Jake. “Uhm– I… I’m not going tonight. Thanks, though.”

“So you’re staying behind with that nerd?” Sunghoon asks, a teasing glint in his grin. Jake doesn’t know if he should be taking it personally.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Hanging with the nerd tonight,” you joke, looking behind your shoulder. The gaze you send Jake is softer, more tender than he imagined– something about it making heat crawl to all crevices of his body and making him immensely embarrassed, as he knows there is a blush very apparent and unhidable on his cheeks right now.

Sunghoon nods. After taking one last look between the two of you, the male shrugs. “Alright, then. Have fun!” he says as he turns to leave. Jake thinks the torture is finally over and he gets to be alone with you again, before his roommate spins on his heel and sends you two another shit-eating grin. “Can at least one of you text me if I should find a place to sleep tonight, though? I wouldn’t wanna interrupt again in case you end up–”

“Get out!” you yelp, chasing after the man, threatening him with your fists and kicks.

Jake feels like burying himself alive under the cold ground and disappearing. Curse Park Sunghoon, Lee Heeseung and all the cool kids in school– because it seems that one way or another, they always have a way of keeping you from him. 

[maybanksprincess]

im your baby

WARNINGS: a little angsty, fluff towards the end, cussing, mentions of sophia, insecurity, reassurance, alcohol consumption, suggestive-ish, mentions of marriage.

lias note — requested by my lovely mootie @rafenroostersgirl, this ask was so amazing and I loved writing about it! im not the best at angst so please excuse any mistakes :( thank you so much for the request. go read her ask here!

pairings: crybaby!reader x rafe cameron

Rafe came to the bar to get a little tipsy and forget about his problems for a while. Ward had been up his ass for what felt like the longest, he had plenty of contracts at home waiting for him to sign, lots of business deals to seal, and on top of everything, he had to deal with your clinginess.

It was very often that you'd get clingy and always want to be around him, but he was a busy man, he'd never dealt with anyone wanting to cling to him, so it was difficult to adjust to. He was used to always being alone, or too busy to think about anything else but what he was working on.

This whole relationship thing was new to him, so naturally he isn't a very touchy-feely guy, and wants his own space, but you were the exact opposite. You always wanted hugs or attention, constantly pulling on his arm or clinging to his side.

he was honestly used to hooking up with girls and leaving the second after, until he met you. Something about you struck his interest, something he couldn't ignore. But geez, no one told him how exhausting it was to have a girlfriend.

On top of everything, he would get strange glances, and cruel words spread over the island about him all because he's dating a Pogue. no kook dates a Pogue. Out of everyone on the island, you'd sort of figure Rafe would be the one to be telling someone else that. But no, he was actually the one in love with a Pogue. Someone who came from the cut. How embarrassing for him....

as he's lost in his thoughts, he's suddenly interrupted by a sweet voice coming from behind the counter. He puts his drink down on the table, his movements slightly sluggish from the bit of alcohol he'd already consumed. he tilts his head up to look at her, taking in her toothy smile, and bartender uniform that she has on.

his thoughts are interrupted once more when she looks down at him, speaking softly "are you okay?" she asks, with a gentle and concerned look, while whipping up a drink for another customer sat at the bar.

he nods his head vigorously, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. he peels his eyes back open and look up at her behind the counter, "yeah 'm fine. jus' a real shitty night." he says, lifting the cup back to his lips.

she tilts her head, gently trying to press the issue, seeing that he was stressed and upset. "Do you want to talk about it?" she says, picking up the cleaning supplies for the counter. his eyes study her, watching as she cleans off the counter, his pupils dilated.

he ponders on the question in his drunken mind for a moment before replying, his words slightly slurred. "yeah, yeah. can i get another one of these though?" he says, raising his glass.

she nods, grabbing the glass out of his shaky hand, pouring the alcohol into it, waiting for him to speak when he's ready. after a few moments, the buzzed blonde lifts his head again, looking up at her.

"My girlfriend, she's just so annoying..." he starts, "I mean she always wants to be next to me, huggin' me and shit." he says, waving his hand and rolling his eyes. he snatches the half empty glass, bringing it to his lips once more, taking a long sip, his words slurred, and voice unsteady.

he swallows the liquid with a loud gulp, turning to narrow his eyes at the brunette once more. "im not used t' that, y'know? its all new to me..." he says, a hint of vulnerability behind his words.

---

Rafe had been ignoring you for a few days now, figuring out ways to end the conversation faster, trying to avoid your affectionate gestures, staying out later, being too busy with work to hangout, it was starting to make you feel like he was seeing someone else.

you looked at his shared location, driving to the location it showed to you. taking a deep breath, you step out of the car, entering the crowded bar. you fiddle with your hands shyly as you walk around to find the buzzed man.

When you finally spotted him, you almost felt relieved, until you saw him talking to the pretty brunette behind the counter, her smile making your insides churn. You came to a halt, hesitating for a moment, before continuing to walk over to him.

you reach out with shaky hands, tapping his shoulder softly, the familiar feeling of the tears starting to form in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

He sees the tears forming in your eyes and he immediately feels a sense of protectiveness and guilt, pulling you to his broad chest, giving you a hug the best he can in his drunken state. he knows better than to say anything, so he waits for you to speak.

"Are you seeing someone else?" you hiccup through the tears, not daring to bring your head away from his chest, soaking his shirt with your salty tears. he shushes you softly, cradling your head like you were the most precious baby in the world.

"no, no, no, hey, 'm not cheating." he slurs, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath making your nose turn up in disgust, but he doesnt seem to realize.

the tears continue to spill looking from him to the lady pouring drinks for people, silently sizing her up, figuring out how she was better than you. Rafe grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head so he can look you straight in the eye.

even if he was drunk, he really loved you and he wouldn't cheat. no matter how sensitive, clingy, impatient, and poor you were, he knew who his girlfriend was. And for you he was willing to try and change his ways.

he grabs your hand in his bigger one, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you out of the bar and to his car that costed more than your life.

he cups your cheek in his large hand, the coolness of his ring hitting your damp skin as he looks down at you with soft, vulnerable eyes that are reserved for only you. "Baby you gotta believe me when I say I only want you." he pleads, using the pads of both his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

you sniffle and nod, soaking up his reassurances, and leaning into his soft touches. you knew despite rafe's rough exterior, he was trying to change. and you wanted to be there for him.

"I know..." you mumble softly, pulling him into a tight hug, making up for all the lost time. "Just promise you won't try to hide your feelings anymore. when things get bad at home, you can talk to me."

"i know," he says on the verge of his own tears. "Which is why I wanna marry you... I wanna be with you the rest of my life." a few tears fall from his blue eyes as he speaks.

he pulls away from the hug to slip his gold signet ring off his finger, staring at it for a moment before grabbing your left hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

"I don't have a wedding ring on me right now," he chuckles in between his happy, drunken tears, "but for now, I want you to have this." he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the ring on your finger, his lips lingering for a few moments.

you open your mouth to say something, but you didn't know what to say. you pull him into another tight embrace, sighing softly in relief of being in his arms again, admiring the ring on your finger that was once on his.

"I love you so much, Rafe." You say, even though you could barely speak through the intense emotions that were flooding through your veins.

"I love you too, sweetheart. and I'm gonna be the man you need, the man that you deserve. you hear?" he says, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, picking you up with ease, pressing kisses to your neck.

a mischievous grin spreads across his face, nibbling on your neck. "gotta bring y' home and make it up to you. huh baby?" he grins.

[5sospenguinqueen]

You Got Me Tripping | Mick Schumacher x Williams! Reader

Summary: They say you should never meet your heroes - or the offspring of your heroes - and when you make a complete ass out of yourself in front of Mick, you might agree

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff.

Williams development driver. Pinterest pics

I'm not in love with this but I had the idea so it had to be written haha

F1 Masterlist

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f1news just posted

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and others 

f1news accurate reenactment of the moment when williams’ development driver, Yn Ln, met the son of hero michael schumacher… and forgot how to walk 

1,221 comments

user1 i love how they can’t post the actual video footage netflix got because you know she threatened everyone to bury it

user2 not the drivers being summoned to a trashy news blog dedicated to them

→ user3 they too are obsessed with this development

its_yn_ln is this what people call news these days? boring!

→ landonorris speak for yourself, this was hilarious 

→ alex_albon i have it saved as my lockscreen

→ logansargeant i’ve definitely watched it more than 10x

→ its_yn_ln i hate you all 

→ georgerussell63 even me? i can introduce you to the hero of your stumblings

→ landonorris probably not the best idea, mate. you'd need her to stay in one piece 

→ williams so do we, she’s our reserve 

user4 she lost aura points for this 

user5 i get it. i too would trip over thin air if mick schumacher smiled at me like that 

user6 why are we all forgetting the most important part?

→ user7 you mean how red she went when he helped her up

user8 and the way he launched forward to catch her 

→ user9 no wonder she swooned

→ user10 mhm if those arms were wrapped around me 😏

williamsracing just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher and others 

williamsracing following contact earlier today between Yn and the concrete, we’re pleased to confirm that the driver sustained little more than a bruised ego

5,335 comments

its_yn_ln watch yourself, i know where you work 

→ jv.f1 stop threatening the admin, please

→ its_yn_ln but they’re bullying me 

logansargeant where’s the post about my suffering? i had to listen to her complain about how embarrassed she was

→ its_yn_ln stop exposing me! 

→ user11 you’ve exposed yourself 

→ its_yn_ln i really hope i didn’t. nobody said my jeans split

→ landonorris trust me, if we'd seen your ass, you'd have seen me retching

its_yn_ln that’s a lie, i suffered a wound to my elbow 

→ alex_albon it’s a scrape, you didn’t even bleed 

→ its_yn_ln i’ve lost a layer of skin! 

→ alex_albon maybe that’ll make you go faster in practice tomorrow 

→ its_yn_ln @/lilymhe leave him 

oscarpiastri the figure chasing Yn is actually lando

→ its_yn_ln he tried following me into the bathroom earlier! 

mickschumacher i hope she recovers quickly 

georgerussell63 do you want me to ask him to kiss it better?

→ its_yn_ln do you want me to edge you off the track in practice? 

→ williamsracing you’re not allowed to say these things

→ its_yn_ln i’m gonna have to undergo pr training after this, aren’t i?

→ alex_albon yes

→ logansargeant yes

→ williamsracing yes

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mickschumacher just posted

liked by georgerussell63, its_yn_ln and others 

mickschumacher silverstone 🇬🇧

3,470 comments

pierregasly i have not heard from Yn since these were posted

georgerussell63 can we check nearby holes in case Yn tripped into one

→ its_yn_ln this is why lewis is my favourite merc member

→ georgerussell63 not mick?

→ its_yn_ln i decline to answer that 

alex_albon somebody check on Yn, please

→ landonorris she seemed fine when i passed hospitality. she was enjoying her lunch ;)

→ logansargeant again? interesting. i knew there was a reason she was hiding from williams this weekend

→ charles_leclerc @/pierregasly pay up 

maxverstappen1 why am i reading through mick’s comment section?

→ danielricciardo because we all like seeing Yn getting teased

→ its_yn_ln you’re both off my christmas card list

williamsracing please release your hold on our driver

mercedesamgf1 mick, as much as we love you, we have a couple of admins demanding someone back

→ mickschumacher no thanks

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its_yn_ln just posted

liked by mickschumacher, alex_albon and others 

its_yn_ln when you both get a weekend off and he finally takes you on the picnic he’s promising for the past month 

3,666 comments 

alex_albon it’s not funny when you embrace it

→ its_yn_ln it’s not funny anyway?

→ georgerussell63 not true

→ its_yn_ln @/carmenmmundt leave him

→ alex_albon stop telling our girlfriends to leave us

→ its_yn_ln stop being douchebags then

user11 guys hear me out. what if it’s mick?

→ user12 feels like you're taking a joke just a tad too seriously

→ user13 no, no, let her talk 

landonorris another day, another slay

→ its_yn_ln let’s get you back to the home, grandma

→ landonorris only if we take you back to the fracture clinic

→ its_yn_ln i fell one time! 

→ oscarpiastri it was twice

→ mickschumacher when was the second?

danielricciardo who’s car was coolest?

→ its_yn_ln mine, i had a daytona

→ mercedesamgf1 whoa, he’s building a merc so he clearly wins

williamsracing we get palpitations every time we see your name trending on twitter

→ its_yn_ln i read the pr manual, this doesn’t break the rules! 

→ williamsracing that doesn’t mean we trust you! 

→ logansargeant ouch. and i thought it was just my heart they broke 

user11 okay so she mentioned them both getting a weekend off, it’s the first weekend without a race after the triple header so he’s obvi a driver 

→ user11 then they’re building lego cars. what do mick and yn do for a living? drive cars

→ user11 and then she used a warning slippery floor sign for a meme when the whole internet  has been teasing her for falling over when she first met him 

→ its_yn_ln the fbi needs to hire some of y’all

lilymhe answer my texts, please!!! and thanks xx

mickschumacher looks like a fun weekend

→ its_yn_ln it was! 

→ user14 this is such a bland interaction

→ user11 it’s obvi deliberate babe. they’re trying to throw us off

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mickschumacher just posted

liked by its_yn_ln, sebastianvettel and others

mickschumacher how could i resist when she literally fell for me 

4,774 comments

its_yn_ln i hate you 

→ mickschumacher that’s not what you were whispering in my ear in that photo 

lilymhe the cutest

→ its_yn_ln whoa, what about us?

→ lilymhe you never fell over for me

→ alex_albon you’re not mick schumacher 

georgerussell63 you can put her down, she’s definitely not going to run away from you 

→ mickschumacher yes but if her feet don’t touch the floor then she can’t fall 

its_yn_ln at least i know you’ll be around to catch me <3

→ landonorris this is gross. go back to publicly humiliating yourself 

→ its_yn_ln just because i have more rizz than you 

→ landonorris not sure how

→ mickschumacher she’s cute. you’re not 

mercedesamgf1 where is your protective gear?

→ its_yn_ln i told you that we'd get in trouble if you posted that 

→ mickschumacher but i wanted everyone to see how good you looked on top of my bike 

→ alex_albon please stop. i can't take anymore giggling

→ logansargeant and i have to listen to her gush about you 

→ williamsracing we are all suffering 

→ its_yn_ln vengeance! this is what happens when you cyberbully me

charles_leclerc this doesn't make her seem very hardcore!

→ its_yn_ln you take that back! i have a reputation to maintain

→ mickschumacher darling, i think you ruined that reputation months ago when we met

f1 and they said being a development driver was only good for getting a seat

→ user16 f1 bringing together true loves

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@peachiicherries @rosecentury @evie-119

Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[ariestrxsh]

🍕 content warning: smut, oral (m! & f!receiving), praise, edging, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, small age gap (both characters are adults), pizzaboy!chris, servicesub!chris, dom!reader, low-key the reader exchanges money for sex

🍕 summary: your delivery boy, chris, is used to getting away with everything due to his dashing good looks, but it does him no good when he tries to resist your magnetic charm. when he arrives with your meat lovers earlier than expected, you're hungry for more than just the pizza.

(if it's cheesy, it's because i wanted it to be. 🧀 may this fic make you cum whilst you laugh at my stupid wordplay.)

pizza guy

It was a cool, late-autumn evening, the wind rustling through the falling dead leaves and the temperature slowly dropping with every day that winter neared. You were at home, lounging in a silk pajama set on your couch, curled up with a book and a glass of wine while you were waiting for the pizza you'd ordered to arrive.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke your attention away from the page and brought you back to the present moment. You glanced over at the clock. Surely, that couldn't have been the pizza. You weren't expecting it for another half-hour.

You pulled open the door to reveal a cute blue-eyed brunette in his work uniform who greeted you with a sweet smile. He was a few inches taller than you but looked to be a few years younger than you, and he had this innocent demeanor about him that immediately sparked your interest.

You wet your lips as your gaze scanned the delivery boy's features. You were drawn to his captivating eyes, his pink cheeks, and his pouty lips. "Hello, ma'am. I have your meat lovers pizza with extra Italian sausage," he said, double-checking the box he held in his hands.

"You're gonna hate me. I left my wallet upstairs," you stuck your bottom lip out at him in a little frown. "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. I can wait here," he kindly responded, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "Aren't you gonna get cold out here?" You asked, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be alright," he shrugged, his eyes dancing over your attractive features.

"I can't make you wait out in this weather, sweet boy. Why don't you come inside?" You replied in a nurturing tone as you crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts and revealing your hardening nipples that were straining against the soft fabric of your silk button-down.

"I don't think I should," he softly answered even though he was contemplating it, his eyes drawn towards your chest. "I'm not even standing out there, and I'm freezing. What if you catch a cold because of me? I couldn't live with myself," you said in an endearing voice as you ran your fingertips along your arm, trying to warm up.

He knew it was against store policy to enter a customer's home, but he figured he could bend the rules just this once. After all, the only thing providing his hands warmth was the pizza box he was holding, and the tip of his nose was growing red from the biting chill. He nibbled on his lip and nodded, accepting your generous offer and hesitantly stepping into your home.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him, letting him in. You turned around to retrieve your wallet from upstairs, and Chris' stare migrated to the way your ass jiggled in your silk bottoms as you hurried up the steps. He couldn't help himself. You were just so hot. He glanced at the fancy bottle of red wine you had sitting on your coffee table along with the romance novel that laid beside it.

He wondered what a gorgeous woman like you was doing on a Saturday night, drinking alone and reading a book about love instead of making it.

You trotted back down the steps with your wallet in hand, sights fixed on the boy standing in your cozy living room who immediately noticed you'd undone the top two buttons of your shirt while you were upstairs. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn't entertain it. It was a weekend, and he knew there would be plenty of pizzas to deliver and a lot of money to make.

"What's your name, baby?" You wondered as you reached into your wallet to count your bills. "Chris," he replied, loving the pet names you called him. "Alright, Chris. How much do I owe you, sweetie?" You asked, peering into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, $19.69," he blushed, clearing his throat and looking down at the price on your receipt he had pinned between his thumb and the box.

You smirked at him, pulling two $20 bills out of your wallet. "Here's for being so patient with me," you leaned in and whispered into his ear as you hooked two of your fingers into Chris' front pocket and slowly slid the cash in. While your were leaned in so closely, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and you picked up on the scent of pepperoni and hint of weed that lingered on his clothing.

"Thank you, ma'am. That's so generous. I don't know if I can accept that much," he replied, feeling all the blood rush to the tip of his cock as you flirted with the idea of breaking the touch barrier but not doing so just yet. "Sure, you can. You deserve it." You took the pizza box from him and placed it gently on your coffee table.

"You should stay a little longer. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate, and you can warm up a little before you have to go back out into the cold," you offered, licking your lips while you examined his softening expression. "I should really get back to the shop," Chris said, breaking eye contact and trying to exercise self-control.

"Oh, come on. Stay for one cup of hot cocoa, sweet boy. You can just tell your boss you had trouble finding my house. Do you like it made with milk or water?" You asked, not giving him another chance to decline your proposition.

His gaze flickered back up at yours. He had your money. He could have easily excused himself and gone back to work, but he was secretly hoping for an excuse to stall and spend a little more time with you.

"Milk," he softly responded, completely in a trance with your caring nature. "You want whipped cream on top, baby? And marshmallows?" You cooed. "Yes, ma'am. Both please," he nodded, accepting your kind gesture. "Have a seat, Chris. Have a piece of pizza," you motioned towards the couch as you stepped into the kitchen to warm up some milk.

"How long have you been a delivery boy?" You asked, lighting the front left burner of your stove. "About a year," Chris replied, plopping down onto the sofa and reaching into the box to grab a slice. "Yeah? You make good money?" You inquired, fillling up a pot with milk. "Yeah, about $150 a night," he told you with his mouth full of pizza.

"Wow. That's a lot of money for this area. It must be because you're so timely and polite. And so handsome," you casually added, peeking up at him. He blushed and gave you a shy smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," he humbly replied. "Sure you are. You're cute, and you know it, too," you smirked at him. He took another big bite of pizza.

"So, do you always come quick?" You asked him. "Excuse me?" he politely answered you, nearly choking on his food and raising his eyebrows, unsure if he heard the question correctly. "I mean, when you're delivering pizza. Do you always arrive so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," you said, your eyes shifting between the boy on your couch and the clock on the wall. "I drive fast," he smiled.

"You really care about pleasing the customer, don't you?" You insinuated, bringing over the cup of hot chocolate. Your fingertips gently grazed his as you passed him the warm, ceramic mug. "Yes ma'am. I do. I live for it," he said in a submissive tone, glancing up at you.

"You ever get pulled over because you were driving too fast?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a seat on the couch beside him. "A handful of times, but it's always by the same officer in the same area I drive through. She always gives me shit, runs my license, registration, and insurance, and the whole bit, but she always lets me off with a warning," Chris replied before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Mmmm, this is good," Chris said, licking the whipped topping off his lip. "Oh, baby. You missed a spot," you chuckled, moving a bit closer and gently running the pad of your thumb against the smudge and cleaning it off his upper lip while you stared deep into his eyes. You slowly licked the sugary cream from your thumb and grinned at him. He secretly liked the way you babied him and how in touch you were with your maternal instincts.

He took a few more sips of his chocolatey drink, savoring the warmth and sweetness it provided. "How much longer is your shift?" You wondered, studying his jawline and his full lips. "I close tonight, so at least another six hours," he gave a disappointed half-smile. "Awh. I can't believe they're making you work late on a Saturday night," you gave him a little frown. "It's alright. It's good money," he replied, drinking more of his hot cocoa.

"You know, I really appreciate the tip, the slice of pizza, and the hot chocolate, but I really should get going," Chris replied, setting the nearly empty mug on the coffee table. "Oh, sweet boy. Look at your pants. They're a mess," you chuckled, brushing crumbs off of his lap and gently grazing his cock that twitched in response to your light touch.

"Ma'am, you're making this very hard for me right now," Chris said in a serious tone, grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes. "What am I making hard for you, baby?" You cooed. "I know what you're doing," Chris looked at you with his submissive eyes.

"Then why don't you let me keep doing it? I'll take good care of you, darling," you placed a hand on his cheek, cradling his face and searching for the answers in his expression to get him to stay. "It wouldn't be right.." he started to say, but his voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on your wrist as you leaned in, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You pulled him into a trance with your deep, passionate kiss, swirling your tongue around in his mouth.

"Says who? Isn't the customer always right? Don't you wanna leave me satisfied, baby?" You asked him, nudging his chin up with your nose, exposing his throat, and planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. Chris was such a sucker for neck kisses and pleasing the customer. He couldn't stop you now. He wanted you too badly and so desperately craved to satisfy you.

"What would I even say?" Chris wondered out loud, racking his brain for an excuse to get out of the rest of his shift but getting distracted by your luscious lips. "I'm sure you'll think of something," you mumbled, pressing your tongue against a sensitive spot on his neck and giving him another passionate kiss.

"I can't think about anything except how amazing your mouth feels," Chris whimpered, giving into the sensation. "Give me your cellphone," you said, pulling away and holding out your hand. "What for?" He asked you, hesitantly reaching into his pocket and placing it in your palm. You handed Chris back his phone after dialing the number to his work and tapping the speaker button.

"Just tell your boss you got a flat tire or something, and that you can't come back to work for the rest of the night. I'll make it worth your while," you seductively suggested, whispering as you gently nibbled on his ear. He let out a soft moan as your teeth grazed his earlobe. "Hey, Chris. What's up? You've been gone a while. You find the delivery address?" A man answered the phone, recognizing Chris' caller ID.

"I got kind of lost on the way there, but I eventually found it. Um, I actually called because someone slashed my tires when I stopped to take a leak. Could you put a manager on so I can explain the situation?" He asked, trying to keep his composure as your lips traveled back to his neck, sinking your teeth into his sensitive flesh. He bit down on his lip to suppress another moan.

"Of course. Give me a sec. I'm gonna put you on hold," the guy on the other end of the line replied. You grabbed the hem of Chris' work shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, disheveling his hair while you did so. "I can't believe you have me doing this right now," he whispered as you fell to your knees in front of him. You smirked up at him, your hands reaching for his belt.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, looking down at his lap wide-eyed, the sound of the metal clanking against itself as you unbuckled it. "You just get so many nice tips, I thought maybe you could spare one," you chuckled. "While I'm on the phone with my boss?" He peered down at you in disbelief. "Let's see how well you can hold it together," you smirked.

"Oh my god. I don't usually mix business and pleasure in this manner, ma'am," he innocently whispered as you reached into his underwear. "You can save the I don't usually do this talk for someone else, because guess what? You're already doing it," you giggled. He sharply inhaled as you pulled out his half-erect cock.

"Wow, it's so big, and it's not even all the way hard yet," you gasped, taking it into your hand and slowly beginning to stroke his shaft.

It was long and veiny, and the head was pink, smooth, and already beginning to swell with arousal. He was so flattered by the way you lovingly looked at it, gently petting it and causing more blood to flow to it. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and a lustful expression.

"Chris? Someone slashed your tires?" A woman spoke into the phone as you slowly licked from the base of his length, stopping right where the heads meets his staff. Chris' jaw dropped and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the way you teased him. His cock, that had now grown to its full size, twitched at the sensation of your heavenly tongue, and a bit of pre-cum gushed from his slit.

"Chris?" The woman said again, sounding agitated. "Yes ma'am," Chris said in a strangled voice as you began spiraling slow licks around the tip, cleaning up the clear fluid. "Chris, are you stoned right now? You know, we've talked about this. If it were anyone else, I would've fired them on the spot after the first time. You're just such a hard worker and get such good reviews-" his boss started to scold him.

"No, no. Nothing like that, ma'am. I'm just shaken up. That's all," Chris cut her off, trying to keep his composure while he stared down at the way you flickered your tongue over his slit. Her tone immediately changed. "Awh, Chris. I'm so sorry I accused you of being high on the job. Do you need a ride home, sweetie?" She tenderly asked him.

"No, ma'am. I appreciate it. I already got one. I just wanted to call to let you know I can't get new tires until tomorrow, so I won't be able to finish my shift," Chris managed to get out before a small sigh escaped his lips and his head fell back as you worked your magical tongue on him. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything, Chris," his manager relayed in a tone you swore was almost seductive. "Anything at all," she emphasized, the desperation in her voice coming through.

He was so mesmerized by the way you sheathed his marble-smooth, pink head between your soft lips that he nearly forgot he was on the phone. "Chris?" His manager broke him out of his trance. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that," Chris responded, staring down and nodding at you as you started to move your lips down his length, taking more of him into your mouth, massaging the backside of his dick with your tongue.

"Good night, Chris. Do whatever you need to do to relax," she said, definitely picturing him masturbating. "Good night, ma'am," Chris replied before concluding the call just in time for a guttural moan to pass through his lips and fill the room. You paused for a moment, taking Chris' dick out of your mouth with a faint pop, creating a wonderful suction for his nerve endings.

"Are you fucking her?" You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him a smirk. "My boss?" He asked with a surprised inflection, raising his eyebrows. You nodded at him. "No, ma'am. I swear I'm not," he quickly shook his head. "Well, she wants you to," you smiled. "Anything at all," you mockingly exaggerated her desperation. "I know. She's so obvious about it," Chris smirked down at you as you made his cock disappear behind your lips again.

He could finally enjoy the way you gently suckled on it, rolling your tongue around on his tip, and he didn't have to hold back his delighted noises anymore. Whimpers escaped his lips, one cascading after the other, filling the room with the sweet sound of his pleasure. He started to comb through your hair with his fingers as he sank further into the couch and further into his desire to fill your mouth with his seed.

"You work so hard, always taking care of everyone, but at the end of the day, who takes good care of you, hmm?" You cooed, stroking his length. He moaned loudly at your words. "Good boy. Enjoy it. You deserve it," you whispered before teasing the head with your tongue again.

"Ma'am, I don't know how much more I can take," he looked down at you lustfully, studying how you encircled the head with your licks. His dick involuntarily jerked again, a reflex to the way you intuitively knew what he liked. "I know you can take it, and you're going to," you whispered seductively. "Yes, ma'am," he whimpered as you took more of him into your mouth, sliding your lips all the way down until his tip hit the back of throat.

You loved how respectful he was even when he was on the brink of orgasm.

He clawed at the seat cushion underneath him, a desperate attempt to keep himself from finishing too soon. He thoughtfully watched your every move, thoroughly enjoying every subtlety of your technique that was becoming sloppier and messier. "Please, I need to cum," he whined, furrowing his brow, wetting his lips, and looking down at you with carnal desire in his eyes.

But you couldn't give into him just yet. You wanted to hear the desperation seeping into his tone of voice and see the neediness carved into his expression before you even thought about letting him finish.

"You don't understand how bad I need it," his luscious voice poured into the room. You carried on, ignoring his pleas to cum and fervently bobbing your head up and down on his cock some more. His moans became more strained as you continued to make him hold out, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

"Look at me, baby," you ordered him before you resumed manipulating all his tender nerve-endings. He loved the way you bossed him around, obediently following your directions. He did as he was told, peering back down at you and your tongue that was dancing around his tip, relentlessly teasing him.

"Please, ma'am. I've been such a good boy," he urgently begged, becoming teary-eyed. That's it, you thought to yourself. That was the kind of desperation you'd been patiently waiting for. You nodded at him, giving him silently permission as a tear rolled down his cheek. He let out a few loud, guttural moans, his voice cracking and his breath getting caught in his throat again.

You felt his dick pulse between your lips while you hummed against it, pressing the flat part of your tongue against his tip and causing his sweet and salty substance to spray off into different streams into your mouth, intensifying his orgasm. A few more primal sounds poured from his lips while you drained his throbbing member of his tasty seed.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he graciously praised you as you collected every last bit onto your tongue before swallowing it, making sure not to waste a single drop. He stared down at you breathlessly with his bedroom eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, his heart beating out of his chest.

"You're so good with your mouth, ma'am. How can I ever repay you?" Chris wondered, wiping away his tears of satisfaction and slipping his cock back into his pants. "Not necessary. It was my pleasure," you whispered, winking at him. "Ma'am. I insist. Please let me show you how good I can make you feel," he said in a soft, subservient voice, giving you puppy dog eyes.

You nibbled on your lip as you stood up in front of Chris. You reached down and picked up your glass of wine, taking a long sip before you started to unbutton your silk shirt. He watched as you slowly opened your blouse, exposing your breasts to him as you peered into his blue eyes.

"You'd do that for me, sweet boy?" You cooed, brushing your thumb against his cheek while you tilted your head down at him and held eye-contact. "I'd do anything to please you," he whispered, tipping his chin up at you. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me," you said in a soft and sweet but domineering manner. He nodded before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

He curled his fingers into your waistband and slowly stripped your bottoms off of you. You stepped out of them, one leg at a time, Chris' eyes fixed on the treasure between your thighs. Chris bent your knee and slung your leg over his shoulder, so you could rest your foot on the edge of the couch while he nestled into your warmth. His tongue gently flickered over your clit, sending a lovely sensation through you.

Despite having just finished, the act of eating your pussy had him all worked up and needy again, his hand slithering below his waist as it found its way into his the waistband of his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started pumping back and forth. He clamped his lips down on your sensitive bud, moaning against it.

"Good boy," you whimpered, running your digits through his hair and brushing it out of his pretty face. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time with his licks, but they were perfectly sensual and effective nonetheless. You gasped as he suckled on your most delicate nerve-endings, and the sound of him hungrily lapping up your wetness filled the room.

You let go, allowing yourself to be swept up in the delightful feeling his tongue brought you as it expertly prodded around your glistening folds. "That's it, baby. You're doing such a good job," you commended him. You smiled down at him, whimpering and licking your lips.

"Ma'am, you taste so sweet," Chris softly replied right before taking his hand out of his pants and placing his middle finger at your entrance. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he smirked up at you, sinking his digit into your hole.

He noted how tight you felt wrapped around just one finger. He couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about how your pussy would feel encasing his cock.

He went back to delicately licking your clit while he worked his curled finger into your heat, pulling it almost all the way out and pushing it back in again. You loved the way it felt, but it left your core aching for more.

"Chris.. I need something else from you, sweetie," you responded, looking down lovingly at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What do you need from me?" He sweetly asked, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh and peering up at you, eager to serve you in any way he could.

You loved his subordinate nature, his obedient tone, and his enthusiasm about doing anything for you that you wanted him to. "Let me ride you, sweet boy," you requested, playing with his hair. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I thought you'd never ask," he softly whined, hypnotizing you with his desperate eyes.

You unhooked your leg from the boy's shoulder, and when he stood up, you placed your pointer finger on his chest and lightly pushed him back. He bent to your will, allowing your gentle shove to subdue him onto your sofa. He sunk into the furniture and pulled his dick out of his waistband once more, presenting it to you in all its glory. It was still incredibly hard.

You straddled him, sticking your breasts in his face, and he eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grabbed onto his cock, holding it in place, so you could lower yourself onto it. You gasped as you enveloped the tip, and you let out a delighted sigh as you sat all the way down on it. Chris moaned against your breast, relishing in the sensation of having your heat wrapped around him.

He placed his hands on your waist so he could feel every intricacy in the way you rolled your hips forward, grinding on him as you rode him. You slid up and down on his rod with ease, becoming increasingly wet. "You're so big," you complimented him, feeling the way his dimensions filled you snugly, and he blushed at your praise.

You reached between your legs and started drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves while you maintained your stamina. "Ma'am, this is the best tip I've ever received," Chris whimpered, breathlessly. "I'd have to say the same," you smirked down at him. A few subtle whimpers escaped the boy's lips as you sped up your pace.

Chris' eyes started to roll back, but you gently tugged onto his ear, and whispered, "Look at me while you cum, sweet boy." He weakly nodded at you, his expression drenched in sheer lust and his facial features making it apparent to you how good you were making him feel.

"I'm so lucky I got you as my pizza delivery boy," you moaned, looking into his eyes. "Respectfully, ma'am, I think I'm the lucky one," he whimpered, furrowing his brow and digging into your sides with his fingertips.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for me, sweetie?" You cooed, recognizing how close he was and how badly he needed this. "Inside?" He politely clarified. "Yes, Chris. Fill me up," you responded, nodding at him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting all his muscles relax as his orgasm washed over him like a rising tide.

His climax ebbed and flowed through him. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you full of his seed until it started leaking down his length and making a mess on his jeans. He was incredibly sensitive, but he waited patiently until your orgasm followed shortly after.

"Oh, Chris," you called out in a sultry moan as you clenched around him, finishing onto his rod and adding to the mess of fluids that were leaking onto his lap. The pace of your fingers on your clit slowed down as well as the movement of your hips until you finally came to a halt. You smiled down at Chris, pulling him into one more intense kiss and overwhelming his tastebuds with notes of red wine.

You climbed off of him, and started to slip back into your clothes. He admired your body one last time as you covered back up, taking a few moments to recover from the powerful sensation. His chest rose and fell as his breathing began to regulate itself, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, pulling his zipper closed, buttoning them back up, and buckling his belt.

You reached into your wallet again, pulling out $150, the amount Chris told you he would've made had he worked the rest of his shift, and you tucked it into his pocket. "Ma'am. Do you think I'm some kind of hooker or something? I can't accept money for sex," he smiled at you, pulling his work shirt back on over his head.

"You were on the job. I'm only paying you for your valuable time. We just so happened to have sex," you shrugged, winking at him while you did up the buttons on your silky pajama top. He shook his head, ready to decline your money offer.

"Come on, if you had trouble making rent this month because I got greedy and wouldn't let you leave, I'd feel just awful," you seductively said, tilting his chin up with your finger. "Even if you just spend it on weed," you winked at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes in response.

"I can't wait to leave you a good review. Let everyone in town know how filling the Italian sausage is."

🍕 click for part two

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[mariasont]

I know youre working on a fic right now but can you sometime make a fic where a new agent comes to work at the bau (the reader) and early seasons Spencer catches her interest, to which he's completely oblivious? Like just a cute little fluffy fic where two genius idiots can realise they like each other throughout their case together.

(also a lot of jokes from Morgan lol)

Reading Between the Lines - S.R

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: reader just being in love with dr. reid

wc: 1.2k

The two of you were alone in the police station break room, which had become something of unofficial workspace for the team during the case. You'd been sitting there for a while, mostly pretending to read through a file while Spencer, across the table, actually read his—flipping through pages faster than should be humanly possible.

You'd been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last ten minutes, trying (and failing) to keep your focus on your own. You couldn't help it. He was enthralling to watch. His long fingers moved smoothly over the paper, turning each page with that ridiculous speed-reading technique of his. And when he tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the words so quickly it looked like he was barely reading at all, you were sure you'd never seen anyone more unfairly attractive in your entire life.

And you did mean unfairly in the purest sense. It was undeniably unfair—no, unnatural—for a man to possess such a perfect plethora of qualities, like Spencer Reid did.

You hated how obvious you were being. Every time Spencer glanced up at you, your face grew hot, and you had to fight the urge to duck your head like a nervous schoolgirl. It was absurd. You were a grown adult—a professional in the FBI, for gods' sake. You had no business mooning over someone this hard. But... it was Spencer. How could anyone not?

Eventually, you gave up trying to work and leaned forward on the table, resting your chin on your hand. "How do you do that?"

Spencer glanced up, blinking. "Do what?"

"Read that fast," you said, gesturing toward the file in his hands. "I mean, it's like you're just flipping through the pages for fun, but you're actually... reading them, right? You're not just pretending?"

Spencer tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smile. "No, I'm not pretending. I'm absorbing the information. It's called speed-reading."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you just... taught yourself how to do that?"

He nodded, setting the file down in front of him. "It's not as hard as it looks. Anyone can learn it with enough practice."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone," Spencer said, leaning back into his chair. "It's all about training your brain to recognize patterns in the text and absorb information in chunks rather than word by word. It's just a matter of rewiring how you process what you're reading."

You stared at him for a moment, then a grin spread across your face. "Teach me."

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Teach you?"

"Yeah," you said, sitting up straighter. "If anyone can learn it, prove it. Teach me how to speed-read."

For a second, he just stared at you, like he wasn't sure if you were serious. But then his expression morphed into something that looked almost... excited. "Okay. I can teach you."

You tried not to look too pleased as he reached for a book sitting on the nearby counter and slid it across the table toward you. It was some dry academic text about linguistic patterns across extinct languages—typical Spencer reading material—but you figured it didn't really matter what the book was. You weren't here for the content.

"Alright," Spencer said, pulling his chair closer to yours so he could see what you were looking at. He leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours, and every single coherent thought you had ever had evaporated into thin air. You swallowed hard, staring at the page but unable to actually read anything. "The first thing you need to do is stop subvocalizing."

"Sub... what?" you asked, already lost.

"Subvocalizing," he repeated patiently. "It's when you say the words in your head as you're reading them. Most people do it without even realizing it, but it slows you down. If you can train yourself to read without subvocalizing, you'll process the text much faster."

You nodded slowly, though you weren't sure you entirely understood. "Okay. So... how do I stop?"

Spencer smiled. "It takes practice, but one way to start is by using your finger to guide your eyes. Like this."

He reached out and gently took your hand, guiding your index finger to the first line of the text.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. His hand was warm, touch light as he moved your finger along the page. Did he notice the way you tensed up? Did he feel how clammy your palm was? If he did, he didn’t mention it, his focus entirely on the page. Meanwhile, your focus was entirely on him.

"Try to keep your eyes moving with your finger," Spencer said. "Don't focus too much on each individual word—just let your brain take in the whole line."

Every time you inhaled, you caught the faintest hint of soap and coffee—clean, warm, him—and it was becoming impossible to think straight.

"Okay," you said softly, moving your finger along the line as he'd shown you. "Like this?"

"Exactly. Now, try to pick up the pace. Keep your eyes moving."

You tried, but your focus kept slipping—not because of the text, but because of the way Spencer was leaning so close, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he watched you. You could feel his breath, soft and even, against the side of your face, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that this was probably the closest you'd ever been to him.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Mostly," Spencer said, his hair brushing his forehead as he leaned even closer to point at a section of the text. His long fingers hovered just above yours, and your heart stuttered at the proximity. "But try not to pause at punctuation. Just keep your eyes moving in one fluid motion."

"Okay," you said again, though honestly, you weren't sure how much you were actually absorbing. Your brain was too busy screaming Spencer Reid is touching me. Spencer Reid is this close to me.

For a few more minutes, Spencer guided you through the process, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he helped you adjust your pace. You couldn’t tell if you were actually improving or if you were just doing your best to survive the moment without completely embarrassing yourself.

"You're doing better already," he said. "It just takes time to get used to."

You smiled back at him, cheeks warm. "Thanks. You're a good teacher."

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and he glanced down, his fingers brushing idly at the edge of the book. "I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. A good teacher, I mean."

You couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe next time, you can teach me," he said suddenly.

You laughed. "I don’t think there’s anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, Spencer."

"I wouldn’t be so sure about that," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a second, his eyes met yours, before flicking back to the book.

Correction, you wouldn't be able to stop smiling for the next 3-5 business days.

Morgan was leaning against the hallway wall just outside the break room, holding his phone and scrolling casually, when you finally stepped out of the room.

You didn't see him at first—you were too busy floating on a cloud, practically glowing as you replayed the last few minutes with Spencer over and over in your mind. You were smiling so much your cheeks hurt, and you could still feel Spencer's hands on yours.

"Well, well, well," Morgan voice cut through your daydream, startling you so badly you almost tripped. You snapped your head toward him, your heart jumping to your throat. He was grinning like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. "What's got you all smiley? Pretty boy say something sweet, or are you just thinking about those magic hands of his?"

You felt your face burst into flames. "What? No! It's not—"

Morgan held up a hand, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Save it, girl. I know the look of a lovesick rookie when I see one. Trust me—you've got it bad."

You sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a convincing rebuttal, but Morgan was already walking away. "Better make your move before he speed-reads right past you!"

You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands as Morgan’s laughter faded down the hall. Lovesick rookie? Was it really that obvious?

Yes. Yes, it was.

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[kiss-inthekitchen]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 3/?)

The fire consumes everything it touches, turning what was into ashes. Curiously, Silco also leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, creampie, blood and violence, biting, threat of death, choking, canon-typical Silco violence, death of secondary characters being referenced, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut). Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2

Pay attention to the tags. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or explicitly intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Once again: this is NOT a fluffy romance. Our protagonist has her own issues, and to be clear, while there are violent themes, Silco would never harm his dove. You have been warned—proceed at your own risk.

"I heard that Silco seems to be sponsoring a prostitute."

The bottle on its way to your lips stopped midway. Kate's words echoed like thunder, even though they had been spoken in an almost murmured tone. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for a sentence like that, not even the most horrible, bitter drink Zaun had to offer.

Beside you, Kate seemed almost uncomfortable. There was no accusation in her voice, but something about her tone overflowed with sadness, perhaps even anguish. The kind of look that made it clear she already knew the answer even before making the statement. She still insisted on visiting you, despite the apparent control Silco had over the brothel.

The brothel, which until two months ago had been your refuge—a place where the outside world and all its horrors were muffled by artificial lights and drunken laughter—now felt more like a prison. A suffocating space filled with glances you didn't want to interpret. That's why, on the night Kate showed up, you suggested going somewhere else. Somewhere Silco's shadow didn't hang over you.

Vander's statue was a landmark. For many, it symbolized the resistance and hope that had long since vanished. A kind of silent guardian of Zaun, a reminder of better days. Some people even wished the metal structure would come to life, that Vander would return to protect his people. But to you, that monument meant something deeper. Vander had saved you once. You'd made a promise to him—a promise you had yet to fulfill.

"Yeah... I heard about it."

"It's you, isn't it?" Kate shot back immediately. Her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a confirmation rather than an accusation.

You couldn't look at her. The thought of being called Silco's prostitute made something inside you churn, heavy as lead. Dealing with him in the privacy of a room was one thing, but carrying that title... it made you feel dirty in a way no amount of long baths could wash away.

"How did you find out?"

Kate sighed, fiddling with the ballerina pendant on her necklace. She always did that as a way to calm herself, an almost involuntary motion. "I did my research."

"You should've been a cop, not a designer." you tried to joke, but the humor fell flat, hanging in the air with no response, no laughter. Kate didn't take the bait. She simply said your name, with a sweetness that hurt, like she was trying to soothe a wounded animal. Reluctantly, you finally looked at her. That's when you noticed the worry etched into her green eyes, a worry you didn't feel you deserved.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice hoarse, almost harsh. "It could be worse. Silco could've just kidnapped me."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still in danger."

You let out a low grumble, almost childish, like a petulant kid trying to dodge a scolding. She was right, but you preferred to live in ignorance.

"If I figured out who the 'prostitute' was, others can too. And if the chemical barons realize Silco has any interest in you, they'll try to use you to get to him."

"I know how to protect myself, Kate."

"From pickpockets and creeps, maybe. Not from assassins."

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

The words escaped your mouth with force, your voice laced with irritation, hitting a sharper tone than you'd usually use with her. You stood from where you'd been sitting at the foot of Vander's statue, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. But, if you were honest with yourself, the idea that you still had control was a cruel joke. Overnight, your life had taken a turn you hadn't planned for—or asked for. To say you were angry would've been a massive understatement. And now Kate was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"Come with me to Piltover."

Her voice was firm, serious, but there was something more. A kind of unshakable hope glimmered in her green eyes as they locked onto yours, as if she could see something you couldn't. And there was something else... something that made your stomach twist. Affection. "Alright, so the place I'm staying in is the size of a shoebox," Kate continued, a small, awkward smile appearing on her lips, "But we can make it work together. Silco has no power in Piltover."

Those words. That tone. That damn hope. They doused your anger like a bucket of ice water. What remained was pure, raw shock as you stared into her emerald eyes. You saw it. The resolve. The conviction. And damn it, she was willing to risk everything... for you. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she kept coming back, even knowing the risk. Even indirectly challenging Silco. Because, in her mind, you were worth it.

Kate spoke your name again when she noticed your mind wandering for too long, her tone sweet as honey. "Please, come with me."

At some point, the lines had blurred for Kate, and considering Silco's actions, this practically put her neck on a silver platter. Bile rose in your throat, and you wanted to vomit.

"It's better if we don't see each other anymore." your voice came out dry, cutting. The tone was rehearsed, even if you hadn't prepared these words. You took a step back, putting space between the two of you. "Whatever you think we have, it's nothing more than professional."

Kate's eyes widened, shock written across her face as if you'd slapped her. The pain that followed nearly made you falter, but you pressed on. You had to, for her sake.

"I can't believe you're naive enough to think I feel something for you, let alone want to run away."

"What?" Kate whispered, her voice barely audible, but you saw it. You saw her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I pity you." your voice was a venomous whisper. "Falling for a prostitute? Seriously? Kate, I expected better from you."

"Why are you acting like this?" her voice trembled, heavy with pain. "This isn't you."

"What do you know about me?" you shot back, your voice as sharp as shattered glass. "Oh, come on, sweetheart... it was all an act. Did you really think I cared? It was in my best interest to keep some naive girl paying my way. All I had to do was say a few sweet words."

She called your name again, her voice breaking, a final, desperate attempt to pull you back from the edge. A futile attempt.

"But now I don't need you anymore."

You saw it. The exact moment the first tear slipped from her eyes, just before Kate turned and ran. Without another word. Without looking back.

You stood there, motionless, like an extension of Vander's statue. Frozen. Empty. Guilt weighed on your shoulders like lead, but you didn't allow yourself to feel anything beyond the void. If Silco was horrible, you were a monster. Maybe that's what you deserved. Maybe, in the end, you and he were cut from the same cloth.

But your self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Breaking hearts, are we?" Silco's voice resonated in your ears, low and dripping with acidic humor. "And here I thought you were the merciful one."

The surprise lasted only a second when you heard his voice—low, laden with that familiar arrogance that made the air around you feel heavier. For a moment, you almost believed it was just in your head, a ghost of guilt or confusion tormenting you. But a single glance was enough to confirm it wasn't your imagination. Of course not. It was obvious Silco would know where to find you.

Especially since you'd abandoned the brothel in the middle of your shift. Someone had likely informed him that his latest acquisition had walked out unexpectedly.

The scent of burnt tobacco hit you before you fully saw him, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to control the surge of emotions bubbling up inside you. Anger, frustration, maybe even a touch of resignation. You inhaled deeply, as if the tobacco in the air could numb whatever was consuming you. But it was futile.

The bottle was still in your hand—a bitter consolation. You lifted it to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. The mediocre alcohol was doing its job but was nowhere near enough to drown out the chaos in your head.

"How long have you been spying on us?" your voice came out calmer than you'd expected, a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

It was impressive, even to yourself. You should've been furious; after all, everything in your life had started crumbling because of him. Because of his manipulations, the insidious control he wielded over everyone and everything around him. The last month had been hell, and Silco had been the chief architect of your downfall.

And yet, here you were. Talking to him. Not smashing the bottle over his head.

"Long enough to understand what you're trying to do." he finally said. His voice was calm, but it carried an undertone of subtle disdain, as if the situation were almost amusing to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco move slowly, leaning against the base of Vander's statue. He crossed one ankle over the other, assuming a relaxed posture that seemed devoid of any threat. But you knew better. Beneath the casual façade, there was an almost palpable tension, like that of a snake ready to strike at any moment.

"Driving her away, keeping her safe... all so I have no reason to go after her." he continued, his eyes boring into your back, savoring each syllable in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "Such nobility on your part. A shame it's all for nothing."

The words hung in the air between you, as dense as the cigar smoke swirling around him. You wanted to retort, but your throat went dry, the words catching somewhere between pride and fear. He knew. He knew exactly what you were doing. And worse, he seemed to find it amusing.

Without warning, he pushed off the statue and took a step toward you, closing the already narrow gap between you. Your heart leapt in your chest, but you stayed rooted to the spot, your hands gripping the neck of the bottle, channeling your fury into the inanimate object.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Drinking won't make it go away." he said, his voice now almost gentle. Almost. The soft tone only made the harshness of his words cut deeper.

You barely had time to process the emotions boiling within you when Silco reached out and took the bottle from your grasp. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your fingers stretching out in a nearly desperate attempt to reclaim it. But he held it out of your reach with an ease that made your blood boil.

Your gaze locked onto his, and like a thread on the verge of snapping, you finally broke. It was as if everything you'd been holding back had been unleashed all at once, a storm of emotions sweeping away any control you had left. Before you could even think about the consequences, your body had already made the decision.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space, the liquid spilling onto the floor in a dense pool alongside the faint clatter of the cigar falling. A small fire ignited mere inches from your feet. It was that sound, along with the smell of smoke, that finally pulled you back to reality.

Your arm was raised, caught firmly in Silco's grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrist with enough force to stop you but not to hurt. You realized just how close you were to his face—mere centimeters away from striking him.

And that's when you saw it: his face. For the first time, Silco looked genuinely surprised, frozen in place. His good eye was wide, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. It was almost impossible to imagine a man like him with such an expression. But the moment didn't last. Like a mask falling and quickly being replaced, his expression shifted in an instant. The shock gave way to his familiar façade of coldness and absolute control.

You, however, didn't back down. There was no regret in your eyes, no hesitation in your movements. Your emotions were a haze, but you kept them locked behind a hardened, defiant expression.

"Leave her out of this, Silco!" you said, your voice low but carrying a weight that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were laden with something you couldn't quite name—anger, sorrow, perhaps something deeper. "I'm the one you want? Well, here I am, right in front of you."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the space between you. Silco didn't respond immediately, but his eyes didn't leave yours, as if he were analyzing every nuance of your expression. Searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe fear.

In a swift, precise movement, he pulled you forward, erasing the distance between you until your body was pressed against his. The heat radiating from you was palpable, even through the layers of clothing, and the subtle scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume filled his senses, igniting something you couldn't quite interpret.

His other hand moved just as firmly, gripping your chin with enough force that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The touch was almost rough, a blend of control and anger that reverberated through you down to your bones. Silco's mismatched eyes burned with a fierce intensity, so piercing it seemed impossible to look away.

"Don't test me." he growled, his voice low and laced with latent danger. "My patience has its limits."

And then, with calculated abruptness, he let you go. The movement was so sudden that you almost stumbled backward. He stepped away, creating space between you as if he needed to regain composure, though his arrogant demeanor remained intact.

"What are you going to do?" your head tilted slightly to the side, your tone laden with challenge. "Kill me?"

You weren't naive. His threats weren't empty words. You knew Silco was holding himself back—why exactly, you weren't sure. Perhaps it was the mounting tension between you, an invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to something as destructive as it was inevitable. Anyone else who dared to attack him would have already lost an arm, or worse.

And yet, you didn't back down.

"Or maybe with me, it's different." your voice dropped to a sharp whisper as you took another step forward, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "Because you know, Silco, that no matter how much you threaten me, I doubt you have the guts to actually do anything to me."

Silco's eyes narrowed at your words.

"You think you know me, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with disdain. "You think you understand what I want, what I'm capable of."

"Then tell me if I'm wrong."

It was you who closed the distance between the two of you, ignoring the crunch of glass shards beneath your feet with each step or even the crackling fire nearby. The phantom of his grip still burned on your wrist, but you didn't rub it. You wouldn't show weakness—not now.

Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready to strike, but he didn't move. He didn't raise a hand to push you away, nor did he take a step back. Instead, he let you approach, let you bridge the gap until you were so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

"You're right. With you, things are... different." he admitted, his voice now almost regretful, as though confessing something he hated to admit even to himself. "But don't be mistaken. I'm still the man who built an empire on blood and fear, and I wouldn't hesitate to remind you of that if necessary."

The shadows cast by the light made Silco's silhouette even more intimidating. His orange eye seemed to pierce into your very soul, devouring you, like staring into the abyss and having it stare back.

"Go home." his face was mere inches from yours, close enough for you to see every line, every scar etched into his marked skin. He was trying to maintain composure; that much was clear. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You raised your chin, your body radiating a fierce pride that defied any implicit threat in Silco's words. Any sense of self-preservation had already been smothered by the chaotic mix of emotions boiling inside you: burning anger over Kate's situation, frustration with Silco's manipulations, and, above all, the overwhelming attraction clouding your judgment.

You knew you were tempting fate at this point, provoking the beast, pushing Silco to a dangerous edge. But honestly? You didn't care. Maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted to see how far he would go, how much he could tolerate your words before finally losing control.

"I didn't think a simple fuck would destabilize the great Eye of Zaun this much." your voice dripped with sweet venom, every word as sharp as a blade. You saw the muscle in Silco's jaw tighten, and it only fueled your audacity, like pouring gasoline on a fire. "A whore was enough to make you lose your grip... how pathetic."

The words came out drenched in scorn, and you savored every syllable as though you were exposing an open wound, pouring salt on it with relish.

You barely had time to react before you were slammed against the wall, the cold surface digging into your back with force. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could even try to recover, Silco's hand was at your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of panic coursing through your entire body. Your mouth opened instinctively, searching for the little air you could manage to pull in, your chest rising and falling in short, desperate movements.

Your hands shot upward, but not to fight him—you knew that would be useless. Instead, you grasped his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin with force, your nails leaving small marks. The touch was deliberate, as if trying to remind him that you would still fight back, even if the odds weren't in your favor.

"You want to know what's pathetic?" he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. "You." his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point on your neck, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath your skin. "I could snap your pretty neck and leave your body here for the rats to feast on."

The words were cold, cutting like steel against your skin, but there was something else beneath them. A suffocating heat seemed to hang between you, an almost palpable field of tension. It was dark, twisted—a desire that seemed to want to consume you both. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, a suffocating dance of anger and something more, something neither of you was willing to admit.

"Keep talking." he murmured, his voice dripping with dangerous, lascivious undertones. "I want to hear what insults that pretty mouth of yours will throw at me."

Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way. The initial fear that had tensed your muscles began to shift, the adrenaline coursing through you dulling the pain and heightening every sensation. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing like a warning of how precariously your life hung in his grip. But it wasn't just fear making your heart race—it was him.

Silco was close. Too close. His body practically covered yours in that position. His scent filled your senses, erasing any remnants of rational thought. His eyes burned into yours, that hypnotizing contrast—one eye filled with the intensity of anger, the other an empty abyss, equally devastating.

And then you saw it in those piercing mismatched irises. Hidden beneath the anger. An unmistakable flicker of desire. It was raw, overwhelming, and dangerously familiar. You recognized it because you felt the same. Your body seemed to plead against your will, the proximity igniting something dark and unspoken between you.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out in a rough whisper before you could stop them.

"I hate you."

Your voice broke, but not from weakness. There was weight in it, a hatred so dense it seemed to poison the air around you—a hatred for everything he was and for everything he made you feel. A hatred for him, but perhaps an even deeper hatred for yourself, for wanting him despite knowing how wrong it was. You hated him. You wanted him. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell where one feeling ended and the other began.

Silco's fingers tightened around your throat just enough to send another wave of alarm through your body. His eyes—those mismatched irises that burned with something dark and ravenous—studied you intently. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, revealing the jagged edges of his teeth, a threat and a twisted invitation all at once.

"I know you do, dove."

He leaned in closer, the distance between you shrinking until his nose brushed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scarce space separating your lips. Silco's free hand moved upward, gripping your jaw firmly, though his thumb traced the delicate line of your cheekbone with an almost cruel gentleness. It was a stark contrast to the strength of his grip around your throat, and that duality sent heat coursing through your veins.

He pressed his body even closer against yours, pinning you completely against the cold wall, as if he wanted to crush you there, as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to escape—as if you belonged to him. Every inch of his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. You felt the weight of his thigh shift, sliding between your legs and applying an unrelenting pressure that stole any breath you had left in your lungs.

And then he claimed your lips.

It was a shock—a collision as overwhelming as the shove against the wall. His lips crashed into yours with a force that shattered any remnants of resistance you might have had. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was raw, primal, a clash of teeth, tongue, and desire that had been restrained for far too long. He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you, as if every part of you needed to be consumed until there was nothing left but him.

You tried to regain control, but there was no space for it. He allowed no room for anything but his all-encompassing presence, the way he took everything you were, claiming the right to possess every piece of you. His fingers around your throat tightened—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you aware of his power, enough to make you feel it.

His touch was possessive, almost as if he were branding you, inscribing his presence onto you in a way that no one else could erase. And as he deepened the kiss, you realized, with a mix of anger and fascination, that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Your hands, which had been gripping his wrists in a desperate gesture, slid downward to clutch at the rough fabric of his vest. You pulled him closer, ignoring the pain that radiated through your body. There was something strangely comforting in the brutality of his touch.

The kiss wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a collision of wills, a clash of searing fury and uncontrollable desire. It was a war with no victors, only the promise of mutual destruction. You matched his every advance with equal intensity, every bite and scratch an attempt to wound him, to leave your mark on him just as he was leaving his on you.

It was twisted, and you knew it. The hatred you felt for him was intoxicating, burning inside you like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. But what was worse—and you hated to admit it—was the fact that a part of you wanted this. You found a strange solace in the shared violence, as though, in some perverse way, it was the only truth between you. This contained violence was a language you both understood perfectly.

Your teeth sank into his lip with force, and the metallic taste of blood spread between you before he finally pulled back. "You don't own me." you whispered breathlessly, resting your forehead against his.

His hand slid down, gripping your thigh with bruising strength as he hitched it up to his waist. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against you, a visceral reminder of how much he wanted you. Silco pressed his body even closer to yours, the cold wall at your back seeming to vanish against the searing heat of him in front of you.

"Not yet, dove. Not yet."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco chuckled darkly at her feeble attempt to slap him again, his eyes glinting with humor as he once again grabbed her wrist. However, he released her grip without much resistance, watching curiously as her hands slid downward once they were free. He reveled in the way her hands shook as she fumbled with the clasps on his pants, anger and desperation rolling off her in waves and clouding her ability to complete a simple action that she could do even with her eyes closed.

He grabbed her hands, stilling their movements. With deliberate slowness, he guided them to the fastenings of his trousers, showing her how to undo the clasps and zippers. His hands covered hers, helping her slide the fabric down enough to free him, revealing the hard length of him, already straining towards her.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her fingers brush against him, the slightest touch sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock throbbing with need. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

But first, he had other plans. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the wall, the rough brick scraping against her back. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, revealing the lacy edge of her stockings.

"Look at you," his mocking tone, as if he were not equally thirsty. "So desperate for it, so needy. You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"

He rocked his hips forward, grinding his hardness against her core dress. The friction made them both gasp, pleasure sparking through their veins. Silco's hands slid higher, cupping her ass, kneading the firm flesh.

"I should make you beg for it." the whisper left his lips, his breath hot against her ear. But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. He was too far gone, too consumed by the need to have her. Right there, at that exact second.

"Don't you dare." her voice tried to be threatening, Silco realized, but at that moment her threat sounded more like a plea than anything else. "Otherwise I..."

"Otherwise, what? You are not in a position to make demands."

Despite his words, she did what she always did. She ignored him. Her eyes rolled back with a boldness only she could muster as she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to wet each one before returning them back down. She fingered him, spitting, with some difficulty due to the awkward angle. Silco's head fell forward, falling onto her shoulder as she continued to pump him. His hands returned to her thighs, adjusting his grip to keep them steady. Then when she adjusted him against her entrance, Silco couldn't help but hold his breath.

The sensation was almost too much to bear, the tight grip of her walls around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as she sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch. For God's sake, how he missed that.

But even as his body reveled in the feel of her, his mind was racing with dark thoughts. This wasn't lovemaking, not by a long shot. This was a fuck, plain and simple, a coming together of two people driven by anger and lust and a desperate need to hurt each other. It was twisted and wrong and so fucking good that it terrified him.

His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto him, burying himself as deep as he could go. The angle was brutal, almost painful, but it only served to fuel the fire raging inside him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her cry out. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the dark hunger that consumed them both. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her writhe, that had her clawing at his clothes and screaming his name.

"Mine." his voice murmured, more to himself than to her. It wasn't a statement of possession meant to irritate her, since she seemed so absorbed in her own pleasure that she didn't even notice the words leaving his lips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. Silco could feel her body tensing above him, could hear the way her breath hitched in her throat as she neared her peak. The knowledge that he was the one pushing her to this point, that he was the one making her lose control, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to break her, to shatter her in a way that only he could, so, remake her in his image.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would be an almost impossible task. She would never give in to him. Not easily. She was too wild, too defiant, too stubborn to be tamed. And God help him, but that was what attracted him. That fire, that passion, that refusal to submit even in the face of his worst brutality. It called to something deep within him, something he'd thought long dead.

That's why he wanted to try. Someone who had been a revolutionary was anything but someone who gave up easily.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes boring into hers with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. It unsettled him, the way she looked at him, like he was her salvation and her damnation all rolled into one.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He bit down hard, leaving a bruise in the shape of his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the salt of her sweat. It was a heady combination, one that made his head spin and his cock throb with need.

And then she was coming, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles pushing him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a moment, they were frozen in place, their bodies locked together in the aftermath of their release. Silco could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as she tried to catch her breath. And for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this, to wake up next to her and see her sleep-tousled hair spread out on the pillow.

Well, if everything went the way he planned he would see this scene.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ 

The post-climax sensation that always followed those moments left you vulnerable, as if every layer of yourself had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and defenseless. This time was no different, though the intensity was greater. It had been quick, physical—an explosion of mutual rage converted into something far more primal.

Your body ached, especially your back. The constant friction against the rough wall during the act had taken its toll. And yet, there was no regret. You had wanted it—the brutality, the intensity, the force. Silco's body also bore the signs of weariness; you could feel it in the way he leaned against the wall, seeking support for both himself and for you. His arms still held you, firm but no longer tense—just enough to keep you close.

His arms tightened around your waist for a moment, holding you firmly against him as if trying to prolong the contact, before slowly lowering you back to the ground. Even then, he kept one arm around your waist, his open hand pressed against the curve of your lower back, steadying you until the trembling in your legs subsided. No words were spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, you began adjusting your clothes. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though your mind had shut off, unable to process what had just happened. Across from you, Silco did the same.

Without the sexual intensity or the anger that had dominated the air minutes ago, the silence now felt even heavier. A kind of emptiness that made room for dangerous thoughts to take shape in your mind. But you didn't want to think. Not now. Thinking meant facing the consequences, and you simply didn't have the strength to deal with that yet.

You turned to face him. Silco, as always, seemed ready to say something. But before he could open his mouth, before he could release a single word or give you that smug smile that always made your blood boil, you struck him.

Your slap wasn't as strong as you wanted—it was all your exhausted body could muster—but it was enough. Silco froze for a moment, his eyes widening more from surprise than pain, but he said nothing. He didn't react. And somehow, that infuriated you even more.

Without waiting for a response or reaction, you turned and walked away.

[...]

The following days passed. The path to the brothel, the routine, the people you crossed paths with—it all seemed normal, yet strangely distant. Neither Kate nor Silco appeared, and you were grateful for that. Still, the peace was an illusion. Your mind offered no respite, replaying the memories of that night every time you closed your eyes. The touch, the anger, the desire, and, finally, the emptiness—it all returned like a silent torment.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the movement around you. It was a physical jolt—a body colliding hard against yours—that finally pulled you from your trance. The impact was so abrupt that you nearly fell.

"Hey!" you snapped, irritated, but the person was already gone, running into the growing crowd around you. It was only then that you realized something was wrong. Urgent, desperate voices overlapped around you.

"A house is on fire!" someone shouted, the phrase ringing out like an alarm. "Hurry!"

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Your legs began running, following the crowd heading in the same direction. As you turned the corner, the chaos came into full view.

The flames danced wildly, consuming the modest building like ravenous predators. Thick smoke filled the air, burning your nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe. People ran back and forth, some coughing, others carrying buckets of water in a frantic attempt to contain the fire. Children cried as adults tried to organize some form of aid. It was pure chaos—stifling and inescapable.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes locked on the fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. But then, another jolt brought you back—this time, more deliberate.

When you turned, you found a figure that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding chaos. She was tall and muscular, with an imposing presence. The red cloak she wore draped over her shoulders, concealing her left arm in an almost calculated way. She wasn't looking at the fire—she was looking at you.

"Silco sends his regards." before you could react, she dropped something to the ground.

Your breath hitched. The world spun. Pain bloomed in your chest, spreading like poison as realization set in. A necklace with a ballerina pendant. You knew that necklace.

And it was covered in blood. Part 4

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[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition pt. 2 ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ft. gn! reader x asaba harumasa, billy kid, and seth lowell ; a follow up to my previous dating hcs (which can be found here) and a response to a request ( ^ω^ ) first post of the year（≧∇≦）i hope you enjoy reading!!

asaba harumasa

very clingy. when you're not together, he'd be texting you random little updates or beg for your attention just for the sake of talking to you if calling momentarily isn't an option. sometimes he tries to use you as an excuse to get out of work, but after he's done it a couple of times, you've become immune to always bending to his whims and suddenly he's whining about how you don't love him anymore.

["wait i'll look at your texts later brb love u ^3^" "so you hate me."]

an avid quality time enjoyer, if i've ever seen one. he's content with lazing around with you or doing mundane tasks that don't require much physical effort. likes cuddling against you when you're just sitting engrossed in doing something with your hands and reading or watching something together.

even though he usually appears and acts lighthearted, deep down, he's genuinely happy with you and the relationship you share. he cherishes every moment you can spend together and wishes it could go on for as long as he lives. you're the person he refers to as family when on one of his much-dreaded doctor appointments.

alongside the nightmares he already has regarding his sickness, he'd have times when he'd wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of losing or leaving you and the people he cares for. thankfully, on the days you sleep over, he has you; he's comforted by the sight of your sleeping figure and clings to you for the rest of the night.

on a lighter note, sharing a bed with this man is probably a chaotic experience on a dreamless night; initially, you'd both fall into slumber comfortably cuddled against each other, but the following morning, one of you would be seconds away from suffocating in a vice grip.

billy kid

loves playing games with you. he's usually competitive when playing against you but when you're both on a team together, he's suddenly the biggest cheerleader there is. if both of you lose, that's totally fine! you'll get it next time. what matters to him is that you had fun together.

deeply appreciates it and enjoys when you match him nerd-for-nerd, even if you don't share a lot of similar interests. you take turns randomly info-dumping about any piece of media or activity you're into and both of you pay genuine attention to whatever the other is talking about. he loves listening to you passionately talk or share anything about any topic because you do the same for him.

adding on to the previous point: both of you make jokes about liking your favorite fictional characters or celebrities more, just to be playfully petty.

["if you had to choose between me or monica, who would you pick?" "...well, yes!" "..." "alright, then. between me and /insert favorite character/--" "that's unimportant."]

after spending so much time with him, you already know which maintenance products he likes for himself or his guns. kind of like how other people know what shampoo or body wash their partner prefers. when you see he's running out and you buy them without telling him, he'll notice and be weeping tears of joy.

if you take a while to open up to him about certain things, he's alright with that and will tell you to take your time or give you the space you need. he's been the same when it comes to sharing his past with other people and understands that some things do take courage to tell.

seth lowell

despite having been in a relationship for a while, he most likely still gets easily flustered from any vaguely flirty quip and intimate gesture that comes from you. you could use this knowledge to your advantage but do have mercy on the poor guy.

[there was one instance where you gave him a quick peck on the lips without giving much thought to it before leaving and all he could do was stay where he was with his brain buffering for a whole minute.]

even though he's somewhat shy about expressing his admiration or appreciation for you and sometimes stumbles through his words when doing so, he's sincere in everything he says and does for you.

you're one of the very few people he trusts with touching his tail and ears. it's come to the point where when you're both just laying together, he wouldn't mind the feeling of your fingers gently rubbing on a certain spot on his ears while you run your fingers through his hair.

he appreciates that you see him for who he is and acknowledge his efforts to get where he is now. your affirmations, whether spoken or unspoken, mean much to him and he feels like he can truly be comfortable when he's around you.

sometimes, he unknowingly acts or does very attractive things and it just blows your mind. he'd steer you by the waist from bumping into things or, if you're shorter, accidentally pin you against a wall/surface when trying to reach for something from a high place because he just wants to help! you should be more careful, you know. but you've already mentally imploded while your sweet, sweet boyfriend remains clueless.