#but i need the SAME wrapped but for podcasts

[holyblanchett]

Why we haven't gotten any kind of Kathryn/Aubrey joint interviews is beyond me. I want to know what they think of the kiss. Does Aubrey also think Nicky is Rio's? What does Aubrey think about her character aside from having a complicated past with Agatha? I know she loves the character, though, she said as much in a podcast she did right after filming wrapped, but I want more. Bless Kathryn but all her interviews sound the same now lol

Mother is getting repetitive I'll give u that 😭 she's just so proud that Agatha bagged Lady Death i don't mind her saying the same shit in every interview. At this point we living off scraps. I would like to know Aubrey's perspective. We need an interview with them both! i just don't understand why marvel didn't feel the need for them to sit down and talk?? Like are we imagining everything we saw?

[beingcrazy-isnt-enough]

I need spotify to do the same wrapped treatment for podcasts instead of music because i know my hours listening to podcasts would put the other wrapped to SHAME

[spoopy-action-at-distance]

The Fucking Cancelled podcast has a thoughtful episode about this kind of derailing in leftist work and organising, I recommend it to anyone interested:

Although it isn't about this situation, the episode still offers a good response to the question "why on earth are we talking about the sexual orientation of the hacker who found a disturbingly bigoted confidential US no-fly list basically lying around in an unprotected server, and what could we do to change that?"

at the end of the day it’s not only that twitter is having a meltdown over maia crimew calling herself a a bi lesbian, that a huge amount of people are basically fine with threats of violence for that reason alone, and that some are actually trying to find a justification to say that her leaking the list is Harmful To People Of Colour/is actually anti-communist (when really they said they find her annoying and that they’re mostly mad at her being a bi lesbian).

it’s that this whole insane discourse has completely overshadowed anything about the no-fly list and how and why she did this. it’s being completely buried under the avalanche of nonsense and the arguments that she’s causing Material Harm. i wish i could say i think this is the work of feds but unfortunately i know people are batshit about this stuff. but really as i said before the best thing is to fucking ostracize and ignore these people and get them out of organizing and instead focus on what that list means and what to do next. bc these people are gonna sabotage any conversation or meaningful work, and are ready to betray any activist or person who takes risks.

but beyond that man the fucking state of leftism that any actual work and effort gets highjacked by clowns who drown it in their discourse instead. the fact that they genuinely feel justified in harming and impeding people and precious work in the name of labels. they talk about material harm but if that isn’t what’s happening rn idk what is.

[mariasont]

Can I request Hotch finding gender neutral reader asleep but they legit fell asleep to a true crime serial killer podcast- or they’re like obsessed with a new serial killer show (me with Hannibal rn 😮‍💨) thanks!!! Have a good day!!! <3

Late Night Podcast - A.H

a/n: omg i love love love this idea <3 thank you for sharing your idea with me i hope i did it justice! and i hope YOU have the best day 🕊️✨

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, hotch and reader being just so cute, bau!reader, reader and hotch are both simps

wc: 0.7k

Hotch's meeting dragged on, each minute stretched longer than the last tangled in bureaucratic red tape, and suits who really couldn't give a damn whether the BAU lived or died. It was all incredibly migraine-inducing, and he couldn't wait to go home and take you to bed.

He knew all too well that you'd be in his office, a realization that came with a twinge of regret. Not because your presence was unwelcome, but because your selfless nature meant you tended to put his needs before your own. You'd insist the after hours peace and quiet was perfect for catching up on paperwork.

He was very aware that was all a lie, you never needed to catch up on paperwork; he knew your work was always meticulously complete. He recognized your true motive; ensuring he got home at a decent time. And it usually worked everytime. The sight of you, patiently waiting, was the sweetest incentive to end his day.

"In this episode, we recount the tragic and violent story of Aileen Wuornos, a woman who turned from victim to perpetrator, ultimately becoming America's most infamous serial killer with seven murders to her name."

He stopped short in the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over the unexpected stillness of his office. There you were, draped across the couch in a tangle of limbs, one arm flung above your head while the other wrapped around your torso. The hem of your shirt had lifted just enough to reveal the softness of your belly. The rest and fall of your chest was the only movement, fast sleep.

You fell asleep to a seriel killer podcast.

He fought back a laugh, the sound caught in his throat as he laid the remainder of his work aside. You looked so peaceful, despite the macabre background that seemed to bounce off the walls. He paused your phone, knowing you'd hate to wake up and lose your place.

He smoothed your hair back, his rough hand lingering in the softness. The battle against his smile was lost; it warmed his entire face. He didn't want to wake you.

"Aaron?" Your voice was so sleepy, rough and cracked, but perfect all the same.

He wondered how long you had been asleep for.

"Hi, sleepy head."

Your eyes opened briefly, a couple of deliberate blinks as you nestled into a new position, curled on your side with hands tucked under your face. A smile, that you tried to hide, melted across your face as you quickly snapped those beautiful eyes of yours shut.

"Shh, can't hear you, sleeping," you mumbled under your breath, your nose wrinkling slightly as your struggled to keep a straight face.

A soft laugh broke through as he rubbed his face. "Well, this is the first time I've heard someone sleep-talk so clearly."

You said nothing, just the slight twitch in your lips as you pressed deeper into the couch.

"I'll take that as a yes to my carrying you out to the car then."

Before you could even muster a reaction, he scooped you up, your legs swept up in a fluid motion as you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder. Your breath hitched into a gasp, quickly transforming into laughter as you slapped your hands to his back.

"Aaron!" The word was muffled by the sound of his shirt as he started to march towards the door. "Put me down!"

"A lot of talk coming from someone who is supposedly sleeping."

His hand ground your ass, eliciting a burst of giggles from you as your hands roamed the expanse of his shoulders, legs dangling in front of him.

"Will you at least grab my phone? I need to finish that podcast on the way home."

A quick spin set your hair a flutter as he leaned down to grab your device from the table.

As he moved for the door, your hand found its way to his hair, mussing it fondly. "Thanks, handsome."

He finally let you down, hand entwining with yours. "Well finish the podcast together, but no more serial killer stories before bed."

regular taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[lxclerc]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢 ─ 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... in which karma finally bites you in the ass faceclaim... christina nadin pairing... charles leclerc x reader warning... none so far. petty charles and petty reader

note... i need everyone to pretend like all the text messages are in french. also no charles yet but lots of charles in the next part.

series masterlist main masterlist

part one → current part (part two) → part three

charles leclerc has never been on your podcast. it isn’t for the lack of trying per se but rather out of your own sheer stubbornness and need to protect your pride. chasing red, the motorsport podcast you’d built from the ground up, consists of you and your best friend emma. months ago, emma had emailed charles inviting him as a guest with emma alone as the host. it’s already unusual in itself considering you’re in every episode, but charles had replied to the email with a sort of snarkiness you aren’t used to but definitely not surprised to hear. 

dear emma,

if y/n wants me as a guest then she can contact me herself. thank you. sincerely, charles

it had been short and to the point and you’d rolled your eyes when you read it. if charles wanted to be petty then you’re certainly not about to appear on his doorstep begging him to come on your show. charles seems to forget that he’s gotten his pettiness from you. 

still, after that particularly irritating email, emma had been badgering you to explain what had happened. charles leclerc is the nice guy after all. who else would let ferrari fuck them over as much and still scream forza ferrari at the top of his lungs? according to emma, it’s simply impossible for charles to respond in such a way without some hidden history between the two of you. 

and she wouldn’t be wrong but you’d been able to keep that under wraps pretty well. you’ve kept your past right where it belongs – in the past and in your opinion, there’s simply no need to dig up old bones. of course, up until now as you watched with furrowed brows as your name trended on twitter. it seems no matter how deep you bury old bones, it comes back and haunts you – or in your case, bites you in the ass.

“you dated him!” you winced at emma’s sharp tone. you already feel a headache coming in – you hadn’t expected to be shoved down memory lane at a random tuesday if you’re being completely honest and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be dealing with it. 

“keep your voice down,” you say, putting your phone down and allowing yourself a sip of your coffee as you try to ignore emma’s incredulous looks. 

“you dated him?” she says again, in a sarcastic whisper this time that made you roll your eyes. you hated her sometimes. you love her of course, but you really hate her sometimes. 

and you hate whichever idiot got ahold of those photos. everyone seems to have so much to say but they can’t seem to comprehend that the charles and y/n in those photos aren’t the same charles and y/n now. you’re both grown now, no longer little kids fueled only with dreams and ambitions. now you’re fueled entirely by coffee and the will to not stalk his social media. 

you’re over charles leclerc. you’re so over him that you spend all your time applauding yourself just how over him you are. of course, you’ve seen charles around after the break up. you both live in monaco after all. it’s impossible not to accidentally pass by each other walking to the grocery store or be at the same restaurant or the same party. you’ve seen him around the paddock multiple times but neither of you say anything. sometimes your eyes meet and the familiarity in each other is difficult to ignore but mostly, you just walk past each other as though you’re strangers, as if you hadn’t spent your childhood memorizing the patterns in his eyes. 

you groaned at where your mind went. this is the last thing you want to be thinking – or talking – about at eight in the morning. you blame twitter and emma entirely for your predicament. it doesn’t help that you share an apartment with her too. 

“no comment,” you say finally at her expectant face. 

her little evil grin terrifies you as he picks up a stack of papers from the coffee table, placing it in front of you. “i’d suggest clearing the air between the two of you before thursday because you’re spending vegas with ferrari.” 

you almost spit your coffee as you grabbed the paper and double checked. unfortunately, there it is in plain sight, your sponsor team right next to ferrari. the document contains your schedule for vegas as an F1 presenter. you’ve been lucky enough not to be assigned to ferrari since you’ve been assigned the job three months ago. but alas, all your bad karma seems to have finally caught up with you today as you read through your itinerary, the first words being an ice breaker game with carlos sainz and charles leclerc proceeding with a hot lap with one of the drivers on friday. 

oh jesus christ, you’re screwed. 

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc and others

yourusername vegas ready and sporting red for the weekend!

view all comments...

emmauser very excited for the weekend

⤷ yourusername 🖕🏻

⤷ username emma what do you know

username god have answered all my prayers and forced y/n and charles to finally interact

username watching the childhood lovers to strangers, forced proximity trope in real time

⤷ username i am so invested actually

username her and charles are my roman empire

⤷ username they have consumed every nook and cranny of my feeble brain im afraid

username now what in the booktok is going on

taglist: @nhlfs @livinglifethroughfanfic @sage-butterflyy @chimchimjiminie16 @thatgirlmj @hiraethrhapsody @roseseraj @celestialams @1655clean @minkyungseokie @ssararuffoni @f1verse @honethatty12 @formulas-bitch @nmw-am @lorarri @erikasurfer @thievin-stealing @glow-ish @raevyng @scenesofobx @coffeehurricanes

[buuniebaby]

you and hamzah going round FOR round

NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. 🎀

includes: cute fluff at the start -> turns to v much rough sex. spanking, choking, slight degrading he gets a lil mean.. mentions of semi public sex

wc: 3.4k

back from vacation! hope u all enjoy 💖

there’s an overwhelming aura floating around the crowded house, and it’s draining the life out of you and your boyfriend.

neither of you are really the most social people in general, which is why it probably wasn’t the greatest idea to attend a family get-together with your side - the biggest yappers you know. you think you’re starting to see faces blur together as you continue to awkwardly smile, not paying attention to the conversation you’ve been dragged into.

you feel a wide hand slide just beneath your midriff, and you don’t need to look to know who it belongs too. you’ve already fixated enough on hamzah’s presence: the way he touches you, his smell, his breathing. his proximity makes you calm down a bit, exhaustion beginning to melt off your shoulders.

you shift your attention from the conversation back to your boyfriend, looking up at him from over your shoulder while his arms are wrapped around your waist. he gives you a look of reassurance, and you can tell already that he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“i think we might head out now.” he murmurs, voice soothing and soft. you smile up at him - a way to thank him for saving you from awkward social interactions - a much more genuine smile than the forced one you’ve had this whole time.

after saying your goodbyes, he walks you out with a protective arm around you. he stays like that until you two reach the car, and the subtle touch makes your heart jump to your throat.

he drives, hand softly pressed against your thigh, and you pull small talk out of him. you’ve found that throughout your whole relationship, that he just doesn’t happen to be a big talker. not that he doesn’t want to; he has things to say, he just doesn’t know how to unless you give him the opportunity. It’s the total opposite to how he is on camera, rambling and joking around with martin. he’s told you that he still gets nervous around you sometimes, even after months of dating, meeting your parents and literally moving in together - it’s endearing to you.

it’s a relatively far drive from where the two of you reside. not far enough that you’d ever have to spend the night away or anything, but far enough that you have to pee and he has to get gas. you’re running to the bathroom around the side of the building, and it really looks like you could get a disease or something back here, but your urge to piss is worse than whatever you could possibly be contracting.

you’re reminded how good he treats you when you find your way back to the car, only to see that hamzah’s grabbed you your favorite candy and a dr. pepper.

“thank you, baby.” you smile, genuinely greatful for the way he takes care of you. “so sweet to me.”

“only for you.” is all he replies back, voice deep and soft. you like moments like this, when you do things for each other without thinking. it lets you know he really cares.

his hand stays on your thigh for the entirety of the drive back. you’re arriving back at your place before you know it, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, freezing when you feel his hands run over your shoulder blades, traveling down to your waist. you’ve noticed how touchy he’s been with you all day. he’s been busy the past week, working on podcast stuff and getting the new studio situated - you guys haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. poor boy is probably pent up.

you’re wandering into your shared bed the moment the door is opened, falling into it face-first. hamzah follows you, snuggling in next to you. you feel his palm caress your back softly, feeling up your body.

“been missing you.” hamzah mutters. it’s enough to get you to lift your head off of the bed, unable to tell if he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way or an “i wanna cuddle and watch a movie with you” kind of way.

“hmm?” you say, tilting your head, shuffling to his side of the bed. hamzah eyes you up and down for a second, pursing his lips.

“c’mere.” he mumbles, patting his lap twice. you follow his commands, sitting between his thighs, hands balancing you out on his biceps. “atta girl.” he murmurs under his breath as his hands trace down your body, feeling up your ass specifically.

he’s kissing you before you know it, nothing slow and sweet like he normally is. it’s needy, desperate even, and it makes you feel weak. he’s pulling you as close as he can as your lips press up against each others, pinning you into place.

“missed you really fucking bad.” he says, same comment as last time, but more desperation in it. if it isn’t obvious already, you’ve come to the conclusion that he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way.

a hand creeps down under the softness of your hoodie (actually, his hoodie, which is one of many that you’ve stolen), pushing it up over your head and leaving you in just a lacy bra and nike pro shorts - the ones you know he likes because of the way it shows off your body.

he kisses you again, hard and deep, licking into your mouth like he’s never tasted anything better. he’s pulling away not soon after, one hand on your waist, the other trying to pull your bra off. he’s a little too far gone, struggling to yank it off as fast as he can, so you help him by unclipping it.

he stares as it comes off, groaning at the sight. he loves your tits, you’ve noticed, always taking time to play with them or suck on them like he’s a baby during foreplay. he’s already kneading a hand into one of them, sucking on the other hard enough to bruise. there’s teeth and tongue and it’s messy and wet - exactly how he likes it. you grind your hips against him a little, realizing how hard he’s gotten from just this, and giggle. it gives you an ego boost, how obsessed he is with your body.

“you don’t understand how bad- fuck.” he pauses when your hips meet his again. “how badly i wanted to fuck you.”

“yeah?” you smirk, voice smooth, yet still sounding almost as gone as he is.

“yeah.” he says, gripping onto your waist, slamming your clothed hips down onto his with a groan. “when i was looking at that studio with martin- he had to leave early, and i kept thinking about you.” he rambles, stuttering a bit as you grind into him. “fucking- got so hard- came all over my hand in the bathroom.” he groans. your eyes widen, blushing a little when what he just said hit you. he jerked off.. in public.. to you.

that’s.. really fucking hot.

you’re so turned on and it must show in your face, because hamzah is picking you up already. your instinct is to straddle him, wrapping your legs around him koala-style, but before you can move he throws you down onto the bed. big hands grip your thighs as he spreads your legs apart, pulling down your shorts and panties all in one swoop. he throws the shorts away, but keeps the panties. there’s a pause for a second, and you look up at him, confused.

“wanna make sure you stay quiet.” he mutters, breathy. he gets on top of you, arms pinning you down from each side, and then shoves your thong into your mouth.

fuck.

you can taste yourself on it, dripping with wetness from how badly you want him. he only smirks at you from above, then moves down, face to face with your pussy.

“stay quiet for me, okay?” is all he says before he’s diving in, mouth on your clit. you can’t help but moan at the sinful feeling through his makeshift gag. plus, you know that there might be a consequence to being noisy - which is exactly what you want right now.

his tongue is wide as he laps at your pussy, two fingers entering you before you know it. another loud moan gets him to stop for a second, biting down on your thigh. it’s like a warning, letting you know you’re on thin ice.

he wraps his strong arms around your thighs before he’s lapping up at you again, sucking at your clit while he curls his fingers up into you.

he slaps your thigh this time when you moan, and it only makes you louder - his last straw.

you whimper when he stops and stands up, watching as he pulls down his shorts and takes his cock out of his boxers. he positions his thighs so that they’re surrounding your shoulders, and he rips your panties out of your mouth. he strokes his cock with them for a second, speaking as he does it.

“if you don’t shut the fuck up-“ he pauses, groaning, “I’ll do it for you.”

your eyes widen. he’s getting mean, and you like it.

“mm?” is all you can say, pushing him to get meaner. he throws the panties to the side, then rubs his cock against your lips, now closed. his precum makes them glossy and shiny.

“so now you shut your mouth?” he says, cocky. it’s what he does next that really shocks you - a large hand comes down on your face, slapping you against the cheek.

“fucking open up.” is what he commands, and god you listen. his cock immediately goes all the way down your throat, a hand gripping at your hair.

“made me wait, so fuckin’ long- and this is how you treat me when i finally get to fuck you?” he growls, cock hitting the back of your throat again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the sensation of him using your mouth like it’s your pussy, barely giving you time to pull off and breathe, but god is it hot. his balls slap against your chin with each thrust, nose touching his thick pubic hair.

“fuckin’ choke on it- good girl.” he says, a finger playing with a loc of your hair. you love the way he praises you even when he’s being rough. at the end of the day, you’re still his princess.

his eyes flutter shut, hips stuttering and head rolling back when he cums, filling your mouth and making you choke. he pauses for a minute, cock sensitive, moaning at the feeling of you swallowing. there’s a long string of a spit and cum mixture that trails out of your mouth when he pulls out, coating your chin. he uses his dick to smear it around a little, making a mess. you smile, dizzy.

he stares at you in a haze, placing a soft kiss on your lips - he’s as sweet as he is rough.

“still wanna fuck you,” he whispers in your ear, voice deep and raspy. “until i’m fucking cumming dry.” god, the way he talks to you is so fucking hot.

he’s manhandling you again, flipping you over onto your stomach. you think he gets an ego boost from the way he can just grab you and throw you around. you’re not complaining either, to be fair; it’s hot.

you stick your ass up in the air, arching your back, knowing the sight is gonna turn him on. your thoughts are confirmed when you hear him groan, spreading the cheeks out to see your pretty pussy leak for him. he grabs his cock, sliding the tip against your folds, being careful not to slip in with how wet you are. you look back at him from behind, biting your lip and making eye contact.

“you look like a braindead fucking slut right now.” he says, out of nowhere. it’s dirty, a gross way to talk about you, but god does it make you wetter. he leans down, planting kisses on your neck, before wrapping his hands around your throat.

he’s sliding his cock in while he chokes you, and if your throat wasn’t already cooked from all the face-fucking earlier, it definitely is now. the stretch feels good for both of you; you know by the way he’s already setting a fast pace.

you can barely speak from the way he’s taking your breath away, from both the choking and the way he’s pounding into you, but you manage to choke out a strangled “hit me.”

you’re craving the roughness, and it makes him fucking feral. before you know it a hand is coming down on your ass, smacking you while his hips do the same. he continues until your ass is bright red, taking pride in the way he knows it’s gonna be bruised.

he moves his hand from your ass to your hair, gripping at the ends of it. your head is pulled back, accentuating the arch of your back, and it only makes his pace faster.

your hips are grinding against his, feeling your insides squeeze around him. your clit meets his hips each time he thrusts into you, and god, does it feel good. your vision spots as you feel your pussy flutter around him, and before you know it you’re cumming around his cock.

he pulls out moments after your orgasm, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. he flips you around and kisses you, picking you up by the ass and lifting you into his arms. your legs wrap around him instinctively, kissing him even deeper.

his hands move from your ass to the backs of your thighs, and you’re in awe of how he’s even capable of holding you up like this. you jolt as you feel him slam your back against the wall, and all of a sudden he’s holding you up against it with just a single hand. god, he’s so fucking strong.

he used the other hand to stroke himself (barely) before he pushes his cock back into you, both hands moving to your body. he thrusts into you, pinned up against his wall. his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, adding more than a few hickies. he likes to claim you like that, show everybody that you’re his. as much as it is scandalous, he fucking loves it when you show up on the podcast or in a video with hickies; he wants everyone to know that you’re his baby.

“h-hamzah,” you whine, overstimulated by the way he fucks your sensitive pussy even after your orgasm.

“yeah baby?” he asks, voice breathy as he thrusts into you, keeping his rapid pace.

“want you to cum inside me- fuck- so ffucking bad. don’t care if you get me pregnant.” you cry out, feeling his dick twitch inside you at his words.

and fuck, that does something to hamzah’s brain. hypothetically, he knows that probably isn’t a good idea, but god does the thought of it make him feel fucking feral. he decides between it for a few seconds in his head, before going with the option of “fuck it, we can get plan b after.”

you feel the drags of his cock inside you slow down, the “plap” sound of his thrusts getting deeper and louder, and suddenly your insides are warm and wet, being filled up by hamzah’s hot cum.

he takes a second to breathe, hands shaking a bit, but doesn’t pull out. you wrap your hands around his neck, keeping yourself upright. he’s already moving, cock still inside you - you give him a confused look as he opens the door and brings you out to the kitchen.

he grabs onto your thighs, picking you up and pulling you off his cock. he sits you right down on the kitchen counter, and suddenly you know exactly what he’s trying to do.

he crouches down onto the floor, getting on his knees. he’s face-to-face with the counter now, and about to be face-to-face with your cunt as he grabs your hips and pulls them to his mouth.

you expect him to dive in again, tear you apart, but he takes a different route. he spreads your lips apart with his fingers, gently thumbing your clit. you watch him, staring at your pussy, still sort of confused, until his cum begins to drip out of you.

he latches on to your pussy, licking at every drop of cum leaking out of you. not only does it feel good, but they way he’s lapping at his cum mixed with your juices is really, really fucking hot. you reach a hand down to your own pussy, rubbing yourself while he eats you out.

he continues until he’s nearly licked you dry and you’ve both settled after the intensity of the last few rounds. he kisses you, softly. it’s different from the rough tone of before, more like a “thank you” kiss.

he rests his head on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses over the deep red hickies he had left before. a soft hand massages your back, and you hear him whisper.

“think you can do one more?”

a blush creeps onto your cheeks at the question. you’ve never gone this long before, but the idea of fucking while still extra sensitive from the overstimulation is a lot more tempting than it should be. you smirk, deciding that you’re up for it.

“as long as you cum inside again.” is all you have to say before he’s lifting you up again, throwing you down onto the couch. he crawls on top of you, placing calloused hands on your small hips.

“all I have to do is touch you, and you’re already sounding so fucking pretty for me.” he mumbles when he hears the soft noises that come out of your mouth. he latches onto your collarbone, leaving more marks before he shoves his face into your titties. he’s such a fucking fiend, it makes you giggle a little.

you buck your hips up, too horny to be embarrassed by the moan you let out from him simply sucking on your nipple. a hand suddenly comes down on your pelvis, hard. you try to roll your hips, but his strong grip keeps you in place.

“gonna fucking break you.” he says, and god you need him more now than you ever have before. you watch him grip his cock in his hand, hard as a rock. your hips roll up for him, and he can’t help but force his cock into you with one big, long thrust.

“fuck- hamzah-“ you say, blood rushing to your head. he’s kept his hand on your lower half this whole time, pushing low on the place where his cock bulges against skin in your stomach, and god he’s so fucking big and it’s so sexy.

he’s pounding into you, fat cock twitching inside you and you can’t help but already feel a burning heat in your stomach, clenching hard around him.

“hamzah!” you nearly scream, the coil snapping in your stomach. you feel yourself drench his dick in your juices, pulsing around him - like a chain reaction, it only makes him cum even harder inside you, spilling his seed into your insides.

he rides out his orgasm, collapsing next to you. heavy breathing, he brushes a hand through his messy curls. he does that thing where he nuzzles his head in your neck again, and you lean into the touch, playing with his hair. you kiss him on the forehead, trying to convey all the love you felt in that moment to him.

he looks up at you, soft. it’s almost submissive; you can see the love in his eyes.

“you okay?” you ask, making sure he’s not dissociating too badly.

he nods. “can I- can- can you kiss me?” he mumbles, causing you to melt a little bit at the softness. you pull him in for a soft kiss, moving slowly. you savor the taste of him in the moment, taking it all in.

“love you.” he mutters as he pulls away. “sorry if i was like- too rough. I don’t wanna actually hurt you, I just like, stop thinking when i get a certain amount of horny, it’s like-“

you cut off his rambling with a kiss, smiling against his lips.

“you’re fine.” you giggle. “it was hot anyways.”

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?” 

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan. 

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.) 

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle. 

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies. 

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager. 

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still. 

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup. 

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?” 

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked. 

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too. 

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out. 

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy. 

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this. 

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question. 

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?” 

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.” 

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa. 

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?” 

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place. 

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa. 

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive. 

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.” 

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?” 

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.” 

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?” 

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!” 

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.” 

“Did you need a ride?” 

Shitty luck, indeed. 

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically. 

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.” 

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi. 

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him. 

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.” 

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle? 

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him. 

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road. 

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is. 

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi. 

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt. 

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…” 

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise. 

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you. 

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.” 

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though. 

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door. 

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

[amsznn]

CHRIS STURNIOLO BF HEADCANONS ⋆˙⟡♡

warnings: none, just fluff!

-

⭑ you better have tylenol, and a whole bunch of patience if you’re with this boy.

⭑ so much energy and expects you to be on the same level as him.

⭑ sometimes he’ll tone it down if you’re having a bad day or if you just need some quiet time.

⭑ at the end of the day, he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t even say goodnight, just knocks out.

⭑ you and chris are cuddled up on his bed, enjoying each other’s presence when you decide to ask his opinion on something.

“chris what do you think about this hoodie?”

chris: 💀😴

you: 😐

⭑ BLANKET HOGGER. doesn’t matter how big or how small the blanket is, you’ll be left shivering while chris is bundled up with 50% of the sheets dragging on the floor.

⭑ on nights where he doesn’t immediately tap out, he’s resting his chin on your head while one hand is playing with your hair and the other caressing your arm while yapping your ear off.

“if you were a chicken, what kinda chicken would you be?”

“chris i swear to god.”

⭑ needs to be touching you in some way. And it’s not always sexually. small touches like, playing with your ears, hand on your thigh, or just playing footsies under the table, contact is his fav.

⭑ whenever he’s in disagreement with his brothers about something he makes sure to throw you into the mix and ask your opinion cus lets be real, you almost always agree with him.

⭑ randomly jabs your side to tickle you whenever there’s a moment of silence between you two.

⭑ asks your opinion on designs for his brand before launching anything. also makes sure you get at least one of every item he’s designed.

⭑ don’t think he’s the jealous or protective type. but if someone is making you uncomfortable he’ll definitely tell them to back off.

⭑ the media found out about you two on accident 💀.

⭑ chris was streaming one day and forgot to tell you but it was too late when you walked into his room unannounced in your grammy pj’s ready to knock tf out when chris let out a loud “ohhhhh shitttt..” when you realized that you were fucked.

⭑ you looked at chris and chris looked at you before you both shrugged your shoulders and went on with what you were doing, honestly not giving af atp.

⭑ comments flooding about who you were, tiktoks posted about you two with dating rumors, had to wait until the next day when chris posted on his story the both of you in skin care hello kitty masks facing the mirror with his arm around your shoulder and you leaning up to give him a peck on the face.

⭑ yeah, yall broke the internet.

⭑ you were featured in the next podcast with you and chris properly talking about your relationship.

⭑ after that chris would post you any chance he got. from cute insta stories, to goofy tiktok trends, he just wanted the world to know about his amazing gf.

⭑ PDA PDA PDA PDA. in the back of the triplets vlogs that you sometimes feature in, fans can spot you and chris in the background hugging with chris sometimes attacking you with kisses.

⭑ just a clingy guy tbh.

⭑ whenever you wake up from one you and chris’ shared afternoon naps to go find something to eat in the kitchen, chris makes his way to you like 2 minutes later and wraps his arms around your waste peeking over your shoulder so he can also have some of what you’re making.

⭑ loves going out and seeing things that remind him of you, but when he’s about to buy it and the store says “we don’t take apple pay” he’s upset for the rest of the day talking about “what fucking store doesn’t take apple pay”

“what kinda guy forgets his wallet…”

⭑ he ends up ordering it for you online 💀

⭑ overall a cute silly guy who just loves to love on you.

-

A/N: i want him. im posting sm cus theres soo many things in my drafts guys, imma try to even my posting days out though, bare with me <3.

[chukys-mouthguard]

good graces

you do something suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

featuring -> william nylander x female reader

genre -> angst/fluff

word count -> 1.35k

-> short n’ sweet masterlist

“Have you seen Willy on Spittin’ Chiclets yet?”

Your friend called to you from the kitchen as she started on making drinks while you were taking a bit longer on your makeup than you would’ve liked.

“Fuck I forgot, let me pull it up.”

You and William had been seeing each other for almost nine months now, though not putting a label on it things were pretty serious. Having taken numerous trips together, William constantly spoiling you, all while telling you he couldn’t imagine his life not getting to be your guy.

He’d gotten invited onto the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast and you were excited to watch. It was one of your favorite shows, but you also were anticipating them to ask William some hilarious questions.

“Okay so, we gotta ask. You’re a young guy here in Toronto, dare I say you’re a stud! What’s the dating scene like here in Toronto? You tied down by a lucky lady, what do you have going on?”

William chuckled as you quickly flashed your eyes to the screen of your cell phone, seeing the way he blushed at them asking the question. While you knew this podcast had been filmed several weeks ago, you were still aware of what his answer should be, at least from your perspective. But as he hesitated, and stumbled over his words you could feel your grip on your eyeliner tightening.

“Yeah um, I’m definitely here for a good time. Not really tied down, just enjoying my time here for sure with whoever comes into my life. But, I like to think I do alright for myself.”

Pausing the video you emerged from the bathroom to find your friend with the same look of shock on her face as you currently had on your own.

“Are you joking?”

“He’s fucking dead. Not really tied down? Is he stupid?”

You couldn’t believe William had actually said those words, not really tied down. Had the last nine months been something casual and meant nothing to him? Here you were ready to go out to dinner with him and some friends, but now all you could repeat through your brain was that interview.

“What are you gonna do?”

You headed over to the bar cart, grabbing a shot glass and the tequila. Throwing back a shot before you hurried back to finish your makeup.

“I can’t bail, but he’s going to see a side of me he won’t like if he doesn’t acknowledge it, that's for sure.”

You’d arrived at the restaurant, the few tequila shots you’d tossed back calming your frustrations a bit, though you were still upset with William. Not wanting to ruin the night you figured the least you could do was power through a dinner and not give away any sign you were unhappy with him.

But as the dinner unfolded, it was as if anything William did was coming across as suspect. The way he smiled at the waitress, calling her sweetheart anytime she’d checked in or brought him something. The way he would place his hand atop hers anytime she’d stop by the table and ask if he needed anything. Your anger only building as you thought back to his comments on the podcast, rolling your eyes thinking that everything with him was just a casual fling to him. Despite how much he’d meant to you.

He caught you staring at him from across the table, you’d opted to sit across from him versus next to him so you could give yourself a bit of space to try and give him the opportunity to notice your mood. But he didn’t necessarily catch on, acting as if things were normal other than where you’d chosen to sit.

With dinner wrapping up, you’d all chosen to go to one of the bars down the street. William now noticed how you were walking arm in arm with your friend rather than by his side. He called out to you, simply getting the cold shoulder as you elected to keep walking as if you hadn’t heard him. Your mind focused on getting to the bar and getting some more drinks in your system, needing to channel your frustrations through alcohol and dancing.

William opted to sit with the group, watching you dancing on the floor with your friend. Figuring that he’d done something to piss you off, but he didn’t know what. Usually the two of you could talk through things, but it was clear you had no desire to talk to him tonight. And he knew better than to push you or force anything on you, simply giving you the space you wanted.

His eyes followed you as you made your way to the bar, a guy soon approaching you as you ordered a drink. William fully expected you to kindly dismiss the man, but instead he saw you laughing and smiling. Your hand resting on the man’s forearm as you were clearly enjoying yourself. He tossed back his drink in frustration as he stood up, making his way to the bar to step in before you’d do anything further to really anger him.

“Hey, everything okay?”

William smiled down at you as he rested a hand at your lower back, flashing his eyes to the gentleman with a bit of a glare. Only to be met with a smile as the man had recognized the blonde haired Maple Leaf that stood before him.

“Yeah, William, you know Joey. Joey Loperfido, outfield for the Blue Jays. He’s actually a really big Leafs fan!”

“How are you man? I’m a big fan of yours as well! I was actually at the game last week, great win!”

The two of them shook hands, though Joey sensed some tension and kindly excused himself.

“Really Willy? I was making friends.”

“Friends? Is that what you called that? I saw from a mile away you were flirting with the guy!”

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, taking the spot in front of you at the bar as he signaled the bartender for another drink.

“Like you care? This is just enjoying time with whoever comes into your life, remember?”

William looked at you confused, unsure as to what you were talking about. Making you laugh as you sipped your drink, rolling your eyes as you found it hilarious he was trying to play dumb.

“I heard you on the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast, don’t play dumb! Has the last nine months meant nothing to you? I mean, you tell me all the time how much you love being my guy, but could’ve fooled me with the answer you gave Biz and Whit.”

William immediately brought a hand to his face, groaning as he realized now what you were referring to.

“Y/n, baby, look at me.”

He brought his hands to your face, despite your trying to push him away. A smile on his face as he looked at you.

“The Spittin’ Chiclets podcast is the last place I would ever want to confirm or announce you as my girlfriend.”

Your eyes went wide hearing him call you his girlfriend, the title not being something he’d ever used before. And while you wanted to be mad at him for what he said, it was hard hearing how amazing it felt hearing him finally call you his girlfriend.

“Wait, like, we are official now? I’m your girlfriend?”

“If you’ll have me as your boyfriend? Though after tonight I’m not so sure.”

Quickly you pulled his lips to yours, feeling amazing to kiss him after being distant from him all night. He smiled into the kiss, assuming that was your answer. And it was a good enough answer for him.

“But so help me god William Nylander, if you ever say some dumb shit like that again, you do not want to bring out my mean side.”

He chuckled at your scolding as he stole another kiss from you.

“Oh trust me babe, tonight I got a taste of it tonight and I’m staying in your good graces if it’s the last thing I do!”

[cj-schlatt]

ima need some cutesy "can I kiss you?" 🙏🙏

Sorry this took me so long! Hope you like it! <3

Content: Fluff! First kiss, gn!cc!reader

(Prompt list here)

A slight breeze ruffles your clothes, but you’re comfortable as you walk along the beach, listening to the soft crashing of the waves beside you. 

It’s a perfect night—the perfect end to a perfect day. It all started with you appearing on Chuckle Sandwich, finally getting to meet Schlatt and Ted in person for the first time.

“So, this is your first Vidcon?” Ted had asked after introducing you on the podcast.

“Yep!” you had confirmed with a grin. “First Vidcon, first time on a podcast—a lotta firsts this week.”

You know Vidcon tomorrow is going to be chaotic, but you’re looking forward to it. Still, you’re glad you arrived a day early to be on the podcast and get yourself acclimated to the unfamiliar area.

After you finished recording, Schlatt had invited you to dinner. For all the complaining he does about Los Angeles, he’s visited enough times now to know the best places to eat.

Now, Schlatt walks alongside you on the beach. He’s quiet and contemplative, so different from the loud personality that you witnessed while filming earlier in the day.

Deciding you want something small to remember this day by, you begin scanning the sand around you for seashells. You stoop down when you find a good one and pick it up.

Now a few paces ahead of you, Schlatt stops and turns around once he realizes you’re no longer next to him. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Just looking for seashells,” you say, holding up the scallop shell you’ve found.

He takes a couple of steps closer to you. You smile at him, noticing the way the moonlight reflects in his eyes. You wonder if he sees the same thing in yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly after a moment.

You freeze, eyes widening, breath caught in your throat.

Noticing your reaction, Schlatt backtracks, “I’m sorry, I—”

“No!” You’re quick to cut him off as you regain your composure. “Sorry, it’s just…” You look down, suddenly very interested in the footprints in the sand around you. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Well, we can add it to your list of firsts for the week,” he murmurs.

You take a breath before meeting his eyes, finding nothing but softness and understanding there.

“I’d like that,” you breathe.

Schlatt closes the small distance between you, gently cupping your face in his large, warm hands. He leans in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, tender, unhurried. You would be perfectly content to stay in this moment forever, you think.

Eventually, he pulls back, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “How was that?” he asks.

“Can we do that again?” you ask in place of answering.

He laughs, a breathy thing that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah, we can,” he says, pulling you towards him once more.

You drop the seashell and wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t think you’ll need a souvenir to remember this night, after all.

[overtake]

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night 👀

49 for this prompt list

All things considered, Daniel has a very healthy sleep schedule for a guy that jets off to a new country almost every single week. Someone advised him years ago to implement the same wind-down ritual before bed no matter where he was in the world. Daniel hasn’t always been great about routine — he needs 3 reminders on his phone just to remember his vitamins every morning — but he has this shit down to a science.

He’s three steps in when his night gets thrown for a loop.

He’s carefully moisturized his chronically dry elbows. The corners of his eyes are shiny with wrinkle cream so expensive that even he winces at the price. He’s spritzed the pillow he brings on every trip with a lavender spray. He’s just getting ready to slip under the sheets, throw one leg over a hotel pillow, and drift off to a new episode of his favourite UFC podcast when the little hotel room doorbell rings.

He pauses for a second, then continues to pull back the sheets. Surely someone just has the wrong room.

The stupid doorbell rings again, and he’s pretty sure he audibly groans. He throws his phone on the spot where his body should already be lying and stuffs his feet into the little hotel-provided slippers. He has no one to blame but himself — he forgot to turn on the stupid privacy setting in the room to stop the doorbell from chiming.

He puts on a neutral face, lest it be some poor hotel or team employee forced to deliver him an urgent message, and opens the door.

“Hi, Daniel.”

Max barrels inside. In the 2.5 years they’ve been teammates, his shoulders have slightly widened. He’s still lean, but Daniel can see his body taking on a broader, more adult form, and he uses the slight size advantage to push past Daniel.

“Hello?” Daniel says, confused. Max is a man on a mission. He heads straight to the balcony door, pushes aside the thick blackout curtain and the gauzy ones underneath to unlock the handle and patter onto the small space.

“Can I help you with something?” Daniel asks. He wanders over and peeks his head out, but keeps his nice, clean slippers safely inside. There’s a slight breeze in the night air, and Daniel pulls back inside with a slight shiver.

Max is bent over, picking something up. He’s in a very wrinkled shirt and a pair of shorts that look far too small for him — not size wise, but length wise. Daniel doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much of Max’s pale, white thighs on display, matching the crescent moon in the sky above them.

Max stands up, an object wrapped securely in his hand, and shakes his head violently. If Daniel could see him better, he might hazard a guess that Max is blushing. It makes him want to poke and prod, but he knows Max and knows when he’s open for teasing. Right now, his plush lips are pressed tightly together, arms curled against his chest protectively. Nows not the time to be a dick, even if Max is disrupting his night.

Max walks past him again, not bothering to close the balcony door, when he finally seems to register that this whole interaction is incredibly whack, even for the two of them.

He pauses long enough to examine the room, Daniel’s little slippers, and the tantalizingly untucked sheets.

“Sorry,” he says. The words sound stilted from his mouth, usually reserved for awkward speeches to factory post-crashes. “I’m in the room above yours, and we — I dropped something off the balcony onto yours.”

Daniel drops his gaze to the object in Max’s hands. As fast as Max’s hands successfully move to cover it, Daniel’s seen enough bottles of lube in his time to know what he’s looking at.

“It’s alright.” He gets why Max is blushy and intense right now. He eats up Daniel’s sexapade stories, makes all kinds of lewd jokes, isn’t afraid to jokingly flirt with Daniel and put his hands places he shouldn’t. He’s certainly not a prude. Still, he’s pretty tight-lipped about his own sex life. Daniel doesn’t push where he’s not welcomed, so he leaves well enough alone, but his stomach does a funny little pang at remembering that Max does have a sex life of his own.

There’s some hot girl above them right now, who was probably joking with Max on the balcony and play-wrestling for some lube, letting the joke run so long that the lube went on a whole vacation to Daniel’s balcony. Daniel is usually the only one who lets a bit get so far and so immersive with Max that it causes actual consequences.

“Okay. Well. Goodnight,” Max says. The lube is now secured half under his shirt sleeve, half into the crook of his elbow now, with the label imprinting itself onto his skin.

He pauses again, this time by Daniel’s bedside table, and picks up the pillow spray. He reads the label, all focused and serious, and then spritzes a tiny bit onto his wrist. The droplets are still drying over his blue veins when he brings it to his nose and sniffs.

“That’s nice.” He holds his wrist there for a second, takes a second whiff.

“It’s lavender,” Daniel informs him, for lack of anything else to say in this incredibly bizarre interaction. “Night, Max.”

Max does an awkward little half-wave and closes the door behind him and the tiny shorts that surely can’t belong to him. Daniel would’ve noticed if he wore something like that before.

He lets the interaction sit for a second, then shakes his body loose and turns on the do not disturb button on the doorbell.

Night routine, 2.0, no distractions. He rubs lotion into his elbows. He dots wrinkle cream around his eyes. He puts his finger over the same little nozzle that Max pressed and coats his pillow again.

It’s only after a small breeze ruffles the curtains that he realizes the balcony door is still wide open. He pauses for a half-second by the door when he hears Max’s voice above him, talking to whoever his companion for the night is.

“Can I get you another drink?” Max asks. He sounds — suave, almost. Daniel can only see speckled concrete above him, but he can picture Max standing on it in. He probably has this girl leaned up against the railing, a hand on her hip.

This is definitely intrusive, but Daniel pauses with his hand wrapped around the skinny door handle just long enough to hear the response.

“No, I’m all good. Let’s go inside,” the other voice says. It’s deeper than Daniel expected, almost masculine.

Daniel shuts the door harder than he planned, and a bit of the thin white curtain gets caught in the frame. He leaves it be. He’s not interested in opening up that door again.

He settles into the sterile white sheets, puts his cancelling earbuds in, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

It takes him longer than usual to fall asleep that night. He’s surrounded by too much pillow spray and the pulsing thought that Max is above him right now, smelling traces of lavender while he fucks someone else.

[prettyboypistol]

Literally in every fanfic I read the reader is already a pretty sleeper, waking up all pretty and shit. Do you know what I need? A Reader who wakes up like they've been pushed down the stairs. A Reader who spews gibberish for a second and then immediately goes back to sleep. A Reader who wakes up wrapped in their blankets sweating like crazy and completely disorientated and on the floor. Sorry if this ask is bad, but do you think you could write something like this for the mercs?

Mood as fuck, I'm in.

TF2 Mercs With a Messy Morning S/O xGN!Reader

Scout

Honestly thinks it's a bit cute, seeing you wake up in a pool of your own spit and hair in your mouth??? Yeah, that's what he's dying every day to protect.

Likes talking nonsense to early morning you just to see you struggle fr.

His favorite thing is waking up before you. He's all dressed and ready and you're 2 inches away from falling off the bed.

Jeremy writes down all the weird shit you say and reads it back to you when you're sad because what the fuck does "are Venus flytraps predators" mean

Pyro

Probably ends up tangled in your Limbs too. This bitch is a SLEEP CUDDLER.

Gets worried when you wake up in a panic, shout about something that sounds important, then fall back asleep like EXCUSE ME?? WHAT??

Doesn't like that you kick them in your sleep, but they can live with it.

Very worried about the night sweats and ramblings. You say some fucked up dhit when you're asleep!

Soldier

This mf is used to waking up at 6AM sharp and being battle ready by 6:05AM. This caused one of the initial rifts in your relationship with him until you convinced him that not waking you as well is early stealth training.

You remind him of a baby bird when you're curled up in all the blanket that you stole from him in the night.

Doesn't really notice that you are a messy sleeper until you two have breakfast together one morning, with you half awake, those bleary eyes and sleepy sighs made his heart skip a beat.

Heavy

He calls you his little spoiled cat when you glare at him all bleary-eyed for waking you up.

Loves cuddling you like a big bear, always the big spoon.

lowkey a messy sleeper too, but is more agitated when half awake than you

you two having delirious talks when you two aren't awake fully omg couple goals

Demoman

You look like a pretty sleeper next to this motherfucker

drunk mumbling, sleeptalker, sleepfighter WWE in your bed.

Wakes up after you so ususally doesn't see the absolute wreck you wake up as. If you two wake up at the same time he makes fun of you.

You two have probably ripped the blanket in y'alls sleepwars. Mrs. Pauling has checked in on you two at 2AM after hearing shouting, only to see both of you, fast asleep, on the floor, and total messes.

Engineer

Thinks it's cute bc he rises with the sun if not a tad earlier to watch the sunrise. Absolutely tells you to "rise n' shine".

records your half-awake mumbles and talks to you, listens back to them podcast style in his downtime.

Is absolutely terrified that you will rip off his prosthetic hand so dating you absolutely instilled the safe habit of taking his hand off before bed.

Sniper

Is usually out of bed before the "fun" begins, but had overheard your morning routine

Isn't a fan of the blanket stealing, but overall doesn't really care. If he's in a bad mood he'll sleep on the couch so you don't steal it.

"Am i pretty, Mick?" "About as pretty as an aye aye when you first wake up" "Da-DAMN!!"

Has a poloroid of you fast asleep in his hat

Spy

This bitch c o m p l a i n s.

He's the most prissy little bastard when it comes to sleeping. He sleeps EXCLUSIVELY on his left side, legs in a specific way, and hogs the blankets. When you come into his bed and sleep-kick him out, he is flabbergasted. absolutely bamboozled.

Doesn't cuddle you, but now there is a pillow barrier that protects his precious sleep routine.

Secretly thinks you are downright adorable with how god-awful you look, crusty eyes and all

Medic

Doesn't really mind, but gives you light teasing about it. If he's having a bad day then he gets annoyed by the blanket stealing.

Wakes up and gets ready for the day, only to see the doves nesting with you and that melts his hearttttt

Kisses your gross ass awake every single day despite that

Has stayed up multiple nights to study your sleep cycles.

[querenciasturniolo]

obvious ⮕ c.s

word count: 367

warnings: none i don’t think

summary: chris and his way of showing love

a/n: this is a little blurb i wrote while watching the podcast last night, just had a little motivation and a little idea. more requests are coming soon 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Chris was never one to be obvious about how much he cared for you.

The love was there, and you knew how he felt about you, he was just subtle with it. Small gestures that only you recognized. You reciprocated the same way, knowing that way too much way too quick would have him tense for a few minutes.

He’d lightly pinch your arm when he walked by, a soft nip that you’d swiftly reciprocate with a brush of your fingers against his shoulder, the both of you continuing your tasks without fault.

The way he always tapped your knee twice under the table, and you’d reciprocate a soft bump to his side with your elbow, neither of you even batting an eye, nor hesitating with the conversation before you.

The way he’d immediately pinch a piece of your hair between his thumb and forefinger and tug softly, which you’d reply in a soft scoff and gentle shove to his chest.

It was different the days he was overflowing with energy, switching the tug to your hair to a soft kiss to the back of your head, or tapping your knee to resting against you with his arm over your shoulders.

Days where he was tired and quiet, he’d wrap his arms around you and breathe deeply, mumbling soft sentences into your hair. He’d plop down onto his back on the couch, his head dropping into your lap and his eyes closing. You’d run your fingers through his hair and twirl the soft waves into tight ringlets, Chris’ breathing evening out and the crease between his eyebrows relaxing as if whatever he was thinking hard about was resolved.

There were more energetic days than tired days, which you were grateful for. As much as you loved the soft, intimate moments, you could tell he needed them more than wanted them. It didn’t hurt, knowing that he came to you in those moments for unspoken comfort.

You didn’t mind the lack of lovey-dovey romantic gestures between the two of you, considering you knew how much he loved you. Through the snarky, joke-texts to the little touches he’d give you throughout the day, his love for you was obvious.

[rafaslittleboy]

Hcs of big brother sonny and you? nsfw maybe?

hii of course!

nsfw under the cut; incest, making out, fingering

- sonny learned after your first ever break up that no one was good enough for you, no one that could fit up-to his standards that he made for you other than him.

- so what did he do? he spent years getting you on the same page, slowly, and it finally happened when you turned twenty-one.

- he told your parents that there was no need to fork out money on a dorm room or a shared apartment when his apartment wasn’t far from you college—and that was enough convincing to have you move in with him.

- and it was perfect. he’d come home from a real rough shift and instead of coming home to a dark and cold apartment, it was illuminated by lamps and the smell of food warmed the place. he loved having someone to come home to.

- of course you share a bed, too. he wouldn’t be a well… what was he? was he your boyfriend? you kissed a few times, there was definitely something there romantically (even if you buried it because of how taboo it was). but he set up the small guest bedroom incase you wanted to sleep alone. (You only used it sometimes, the warmth of his presence in bed lulled you to sleep better than any podcast).

- you would make him lunch if you had time between classes and drop it off at the precinct.

- and god did it kill him that he couldn’t kiss you in front of his coworkers, show you off.

- instead, he would take the food and stand tall and kiss your hair and thank you.

nsfw under the cut

- sexually? the first thing you both ever done together was when you accidentally walked in on him stroking himself. he has worked thirteen hours and came home, showered, and you had started on making his dinner. you went in the room to tell him it was almost finished and saw him on the edge of the bed, T-shirt on and naked from the waist down.

- it was the first time you had seen it, too.

- long and thick, uncut, and a deep pink at the tip. and his large hand wrapped around his wet cock.

- instead of it being awkward, he asked you to come over.

- “you wanna watch, baby? was thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

- and your mouth went dry, but you sat beside him cautiously.

- and he slowly began stroking his cock again, and the sight went straight to your core. pressing your thighs together.

- “ya wanna touch it, honey?”

- and you done mental gymnastics, but nodded, and he softly and slowly took your limp hand and brushed your side fingers against his hard cock.

- “can I… can I stroke it? like.. what you were doing?”

- your hand can’t wrap around it, and he didn’t know how much that would turn him on until it happened.

- he sat back on his palms, his head tipping to the side as you stroked his cock, letting out little sighs every now and then.

- then when he got close? he was ordering you, his hand over yours to get the right tempo “fuck—jus’ like that, keep strokin’ me like that,”

- then he came with a deep groan, his milky cum spurting out and over both of your fists. it frightened you at first, but the ache in deep in your abdomen didn’t go away.

- the second thing he done with you was finger you before sleep. you ate normally after you jerked your big brother off, his warm load spurting on your hand and his. you couldnt stop thinking about it.

- you were in bed and his hand was stroking up and down the inside of your thigh.

- “wanna make you feel good,” he said as he nuzzled into your cheek.

- “i dunno…”

- sonny kissed your cheek and slid his hand into your underwear and rubbed you from the outside, his head resting on your shoulder as he focused on moving his long fingers.

- he waited until he felt your clear, warm slick on his fingers before he did anything.

- slowly inserting a finger and he didn’t miss how your body clenched violently, most likely the first time anything had been in you.

- slowly, one finger would curl into you and get to that little spot your short little fingers couldn’t even reach and you’d be GONE.

— sonny would be amused that you came so fast, but he would finger fuck you through it and whisper against your cheek that you were so good for him.

— and the way your insides gripped his thick finger went straight to his dick, he couldn’t stop thinking about how tight you would be if you came on his cock.

[davey-in-a-minivan]

Isabel Lovelace My Absolute Beloved

Lovelace is one of my favorite examples of one of my favorite kinds of characters, which is: woman who the world is trying so hard to kill and emerges beat up and spitting out teeth and still going.

(Relatedly, Eva Olivia Moreno is one of the few White Vault characters I really loved and it's on the strength of the joy I felt when i realized that not only had Eva NOT died when a rockslide separated her from the team, but instead dragged herself three days over the mountains, alone, covered in mud and blood and bruises, WITH ALL THE TEAM'S DATA DRIVES, to let the world know what was going on and demand rescue for the others. LOVE HER. Alessandra "Cockroach" Strong of the Penumbra Podcast ALSO falls into this category and I would've loved to see more of her)

Interestingly, I think Lovelace plays a similar role in-universe for Eiffel and Minkowski, in that they first encounter her as a 'character' in old audio logs whose survival they are rooting for at a remove -- when Eiffel and Minkowski listen to her logs but it's unclear whether she made it off the station, Eiffel shushes Minkowski's skepticism and says "let me have my badass space commando chick!!" In the absence of conclusive evidence he clings to the idea that she survived, for what i suspect are two reasons: (1) it means it's possible to survive and gives him and Minkowski a sliver of hope, and (2) it's not fair for her to die after trying so hard to save herself and her crew, and if she survived he can believe that there's some fairness in the universe.

After Kepler shoots Lovelace, Minkowski tells an imagined Lovelace how badly she wanted to get Lovelace home because she wanted to believe that she could go home, which feels like an echo of Eiffel's earlier sentiment--obviously by now Minkowski knows and cares about Lovelace as a person, but she's also a symbol of the ultimate survivor, who will do whatever it takes to get home. If Lovelace, who fought harder and longer, with more skill and fewer limits than Minkowski finds herself capable of, and still didn't survive, what chance is there for Minkowski and her crew?

WHICH MAKES IT SO FUCKING SATISFYING WHEN LOVELACE LIVES AGAIN.

I need you all to know--Lovelace was "dead" for, what, an episode??--in that time my then-roommate and I put up a SHRINE to her memory. She was too cool and tragic and extreme and funny and hot to die!!!

I'm very glad the universe and Gabriel Urbina agreed.

It's not only satisfying because I'm obsessed with her and wanted her back (which I admit freely). It's a riveting development in the story of the unkillable Captain Lovelace where we finally see that she CAN'T be killed because she's already dead. Functionally she's a ghost in the story, haunting the Hephaestus until she finishes her unfinished business, and there's a delightful sheen of destiny to her arc where I was like oh fuck they've already done their worst to her and she's still going. She's going to win this. I don't know what it'll cost her, this could still be a tragedy, but she's GOING to succeed.

What does this mean for the rest of the original crew looking to her as a symbol? Eiffel, Minkowski and Hera do survive, like Lovelace. It is possible. But it costs them a lot. Weeks after Lovelace dies, resurrects, and has the day-ruining revelation that she's actually the alien clone of the dead woman she thought she was haha, she talks about the discomforting effort she makes to be the real Lovelace, not the person that Goddard turned her into. I think once they return to Earth the rest of the crew will struggle in similar ways. Minkowski need to believe that Lovelace could come home, and she did. But none of them could be the same as they were before.

Now, obviously the extremes Lovelace had to go to in pursuit of survival and justice were difficult and upsetting for her. But they were also hot!! SO let's wrap this up with some of the most iconic Lovelace moments according to me:

1. The "run and hide" monologue Eiffel and Minkowski find - HOT. sorry i know this comes on the heels of her describing the harrowing tragedy of her crew members' deaths but like

that's hot!!! go girl, kill em all!!!

2. THE DEAD MAN'S SWITCH. she said im going big AND going home, through the power of insane resourcefulness and this nuclear bomb i made

3. "variations on a theme" is suuuch a good minisode

4. disabling the airlock during the clone jacobi situation without telling anyone

5. NAPALM

6a. broadly, the hostage situation during the coup, where she goads kepler into focusing on her instead of eiffel

6b. SPECIFICALLY the part of the hostage situation where she gets the show's one "fuck"

7. alien possession lovelace!!!! i know it wasn't quite her melting kepler's hand off but god it's a fun scene

8. time loop lovelace. i love a good time loop and the contrast between her yelling and goading and shooting things in the last argument but also being, like, pretty chill and pragmatic about it--this is just her method of causing enough trouble to break the loop--is fun

9. hera's and her intersecting journeys re: what it means to be a person

10. distracting cutter so minkowski can stab him with the harpoon!!!!!!

in conclusion: WHAT A CHARACTER

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel|Alastor X Reader

Right now in love with a deep home type comfort, to sleep in rainy nights, Tea and deep voices.

This is presenting Alastor Scenario when your unable to sleep because it is hell, and some of your tapes broke.

You woke up with cold sweat, wavering breathing it kept happening, you opened your curtains a little bit to see the horrible view.

The Hazbin hotel was like a gold in such a messed up, chaotic ruckus of a place. Where people just live accepting that there souls are doomed for suffering, and nothing was going to change that.

You were still trying to steady your breathing, you brought your legs closer wrapping your arms tightly around it, "You could just drop dead, stop... Stop harrassing me. Drop dead. Drop dead." You would whimper.

3 Am no one would give you a second glance, you shakily brought out the rust radio out, you loved the cracky noise, you loved his voice.

You turned on one of his radio shows, he had put some recipes trying to focus on his heavy voice, trying to get yourself to sleep. The dreams would haunt you the moment you turned of the radio.

"Ahh my dear can I come in?" It was Alastor, but what could he want from such a time. He said he was working for some paperwork to run the hotel.

You shakily tried to dress yourself up, pulling the door knob.

"Oh my dear, you haven't slept again. The little radio off yours has been a little disturbing. All though I love it when people admire my work! But you see my dear it's interfering with the latest podcast I must get done by the next day!"

Your face showed tinge of embarrassment but actually hearing his voice right now was especially calming.

"I'm so sorry, now you have to start all over again." You weakly told, you wanted him to stay but you knew he would avoid any physical touch.

"Well my dear since you enjoy my little radio shows here so much what if I take you to my little office hmm?"

Alastor knew you suffered from nightmares, and you had been putting his tapes on repeat at the same time for two weeks.

Once you entered his office, you caught splashes of red, but a little comfortable corner called you over where you quietly sat by, waiting for him to go back to letting his voice out.

It was like Alastor knew, he needed to get you to sleep besides you were tired so hearing him for a few sleepy half an hour or more.

The last thing you felt was a blanket draped and then it was only the sound of typewriter echoing.