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maddiesentmehere118 · 4 months ago

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A Stranger's Jacket: Part 4

Evan "Buck" Buckley x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: recalling trauma, slight angst, comfort, mentions of blood and shooting, some fluff and teasing, MDNI 18+

Author's notes: I would like to praise myself for keeping the tension building for this long because the hopeless romantic in me wants to get right to it!

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Buck had made himself at home in the kitchen, making you stand to the side as he scooped ice cream into the bowls. You told him that he was your guest, but he didn’t have any of it. He was also adamant about not accepting any money for the ice cream. Up to this point, it had been small talk- no pressure, but not silent. You had learned that Buck also shared your interest in baking, both of you finding it a calming, healthy outlet for stress.

He hands you a bowl whilst you retrieve two spoons from the drawer. You guide him to the couch, settling in. You reach for the remote, turning to him.

“What do you want to watch? You’re the guest.”

“Hmm, as your guest, I want you to choose.”

You navigate to Hulu to put on 10 Things I hate About You. It’s silent, your attention focused on enjoying the cold, sweet treat and the movie.

The happy intro scene unfolds with four girls in a nicer, blue car on the way to school, seemingly jamming out to the music. They portray the more popular fashion of the late 1990s before panning to Kat, dressed in a darker, laid-back grunge look as she pulls up in her older car, Joan Jett and the Black Hearts “Bad Reputation” blaring through the radio.

You’re reminded of yourself in high school. You didn’t necessarily have the grunge look until college, but you never felt the urge to dress up like the popular, stereotypical pretty girls. You’re so immersed in the film that you don’t realize Buck is sneaking glances at you.

About 15 minutes into the movie, after Kat’s dad tells her younger sister Bianca that she can’t go to prom or date until Kat does, you set the empty bowl on your lap and turn to better face the man next to you.

“You know when I said I’ve been back? It was only this morning. I wanted to go before classes started again on Wednesday,” you take a deep breath, trying to smile but your cheek muscles feel heavy. “Then I went to see you, and I think that’s why I had the nightmare.”

“Hey, I think that going back was a huge accomplishment. You could have chosen not to go back but you did. And you’re going back to teach. That’s a lot for your brain to process and it’s understandable that you had a nightmare,” he pauses, and once he gauges that you are okay, he continues “I’m sorry that you had to go through it alone. All of it. You’re still going through it alone, not wanting to tell your friends about it. But you don’t have to.”

It’s at that moment, when he tells you that you don’t have to go through the trauma alone, that the dam breaks. That’s when it all comes out, your feelings and your thoughts.

“They replaced the carpet in the office with tile, and rearranged the furniture, but I can still see where he was laying, bleeding on my hands. Sometimes when I think about it, it’s like I can feel the blood- sticky, dry- and I scrub my hands.”

You feel a lump in your throat, looking down to play with your fingernails. There is a piece of loose skin at the cuticle, and you try to pull it off.

“When I unlocked the door, I had to count to three before leaving. Walking the hallway is terrifying, and I jump so much at the smallest of sounds. I say I’m fine, but I’m so scared, Buck. I keep telling myself that I’m lucky because I didn’t see anyone get shot or even see the shooter, so I don’t deserve to be scared. The therapist says that’s not true, and I shouldn’t think like that, but it’s hard not to feel that way.”

You surprisingly don’t jump when Buck grabs your hand. He is slow, careful not to startle you. He looks to you for approval, and you wrap your fingers around him, letting him squeeze. His hand is large in comparison to yours and so warm. His palm not too soft but not too rough, either. Your heart flutters, skipping a beat when his thumb drags soothingly across the back of your hand.

“You deserve to be scared. You deserve to feel sad. You deserve to feel it all. You experienced it all. You may not have been shot or seen the man, but you heard it. You saw the effects of it. You don’t have to earn your feelings for them to be valid. Would you tell your friends they don’t deserve to be scared to go back to class because they weren’t there?”

“No.”

“See, you wouldn’t deny them their feelings, so why should you deny your feelings?”

“I guess.”

“Hey, look at me.”

You bring your eyes up to his face. His eyes are soft, gleaming with concern and it makes you tear up again. You’re thankful that you ignored your own insecurities and messaged him for comfort. You didn’t feel pressure to share, and you didn’t feel internal pressure to not share to avoid scaring others. It was nice having someone who you finally could talk to that wasn’t your therapist.

“What do they say, the irony of fate? How we met wasn’t ideal, but somehow, someone, something decided that we had to cross paths. Maybe I would have met you in a different scenario. In fact, I wish I would have so you didn’t have to go through all this trauma and fear. But despite that, here we are. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that I met you. Something about you is just- different. Not in a bad way, of course.”

This time you smile. That connection, that chemistry, wasn’t forced. You didn’t make it up in your head, because he felt it too. He leans in, bringing his free hand up. You think he’s going to wipe the tears off your face, but he hesitates. You squeeze his hand, reaching up to swipe away the few tears that had spilled over. The only few that Buck wasn’t able to prevent.

“Me too.”

Silence falls between you two again, but your gazes don’t leave each other. And by the way that he’s looking at you- it’s the same look he had on his face earlier that morning. He wants to say something but is holding himself back.

So you decide to test the waters.

“What are you thinking about?”

His laugh fills the air, this time with an undertone of nervousness. He looks away for a few long seconds, just long enough to make you anxious. And to make you feel a bit weird watching him. Looking at the way he bites his lip and wears a face of contemplation.

“A few months ago, I was in a relationship with this woman named Abby. She left for Europe to go find herself after her mom died. She called at first, but then it stopped. I held on for a while, but I finally let go when I realized she was never coming back.

“Before her, I was impulsive, reckless- I uh, tried to prove myself, you know? To not feel like a disappointment to my parents. To feel like I was enough and what I did mattered. That I mattered. I only focused on what I wanted and not how my decisions could hurt someone else. I was pretty much a man whore. Then I met her, and with some therapy and self-reflection, I’ve turned into what Eddie and the crew like to call Buck 2.0. Mature, more responsible, and just a much better person than I was.”

You take it all in, listening to him. You note that there seems to be some trauma regarding his parents, possibly even going back to his childhood. It’s not your place to inquire about, but you hold onto it, knowing to treat any conversation in the future about parents carefully. You hear the pain in his voice, the way he doesn’t hold eye contact, and your heart breaks. This warm, sweet, caring person, despite all that he has gone through, still wears his heart on his sleeve.

"While I think Buck 2.0 is amazing, I think Buck 1.0 was still the same kind-hearted person you are now,” it’s your turn to squeeze his hand. “It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, trying to prove your worth and show everyone you’re enough. I get it.”

He faces you again, this time holding onto every word that you say. He exhales heavily.

“You know, many people don’t take the time to truly better themselves. But you did. You not only cared about other people, but you took steps to love yourself. You don’t have to prove to anyone who you are or impress them. You’re just you, and if people can’t accept that and love you unconditionally, then they don’t deserve to be a part of your life.”

You offer a smile but are left slightly confused when he closes his eyes in return. His eyelids flutter shut, eyelashes brushing his upper cheek. His chest moves as he takes a few breaths in. You spot the breathing pattern he’s using, breathe in, hold, breathe out. You catch onto the specific pattern as he repeats it a few more times. He’s doing a triangle, 3-3-3.

A wave of embarrassment hits you when he opens his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just gives your hand a squeeze before pulling back. Running his fingers through his hair, he flashes you a grin, but it feels different. A little more forced. Maybe you made him uncomfortable.

As if he can feel your apprehension, he reaches for the empty bowl in your lap. His fingers linger as they brush yours, all while maintaining eye contact. You swallow harder than you mean to, and you hope he doesn’t hear it, or see it.

All of the sudden, melted ice cream and caramel sauce is spread on your cheek. You let out a loud gasp, jaw dropped but face full of joy.

“You did not just do that!”

“Mhmmm, I think I did. Ice cream fixes everything. See, it made you smile.” He sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick up the ice cream, and you feel like you could pass out right then and there.

How dare he be a tease, talking you through your feeliings to help you avoid another mental breakdown and even sharing some of his own past, only to end the moment with something so intimate, so suggestive... what you would do to lick the ice cream off of his thumb.

No, stop.

“Here, let me take this and you can settle into bed. I’ll take the couch.”

You stare back at the man as if he has suddenly grown a second head.

“You’re over 6 foot tall, Buck! I am not going to let you sleep on the couch,” you protest, following him into the kitchen “I can sleep on the couch, and you can take the bed. You came over to comfort me and you probably have work in the morning. I will be fine on the couch.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen either. But I appreciate your concern for my comfort, all 6 foot 2 inches of me.”

You shake your head, laughing as you nudge his arm. He feigns hurt as you trail him into the kitchen. He puts the bowls in the sink, and you turn on the water, putting a dot of soap in each bowl. You take over, pushing him to the side lightly as you grab the sponge to wash the dishes, including your dinner bowl. You’re glad you cleaned the pots before you sat down to eat.

It’s silent again. Buck leans back against the counter, just watching you do the mundane chore. An idea pops in your head, and you say it before your brain can stop you.

“We could share the bed.”

You want the world to swallow you whole.

There’s no way you just suggested that to Buck. You barely know him.

But it feels like you have known him your whole life.

You stack the bowls in the dish drainer to dry. He looks down, shifting his weight, tapping his foot a bit. He looks caught off guard and you feel bad for even suggesting it in the first place. You move over to grab a hand towel to dry off your hands.

You really did it this time. Good job, you’ve ruined it.

When you turn back to him to break the ice, he lets out a shaky breath.

“I can live with that.”

His response is earnest, so soft and quiet that you can barely hear him. He observes your face, reading the apprehension and hesitation that lingers in your body language.

“If it’s okay with you. Don’t feel like I have to stay, I can leave too. I really don’t mind the couch or going back home. I just don’t want to ever make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t mess up as much as your thought you had.

“I don’t mind. You drove all the way over here, it’s getting late, and we’re both adults. Right?”

“Right,” he pushes himself off the counter, showing a hint of his confident, cocky side, seemingly recovering “besides, I can rest easy knowing that you’re comfortable and I can keep the bad dreams away.”

#evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #x reader fluff #x you #x reader #911 x you #911 abc #911 fanfic #911 x reader #reader insert #911 show #light angst #tw blood #fluff #a strangers jacket series

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claws-and-quills · 10 months ago

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Not So Silent Treatment

A/N: This is the first time ever written anything on Logan in a really long while. Shootout to my bestie @callsignred for the idea!

CW: Profanity, Primal Hunter/Primal Prey Kink, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy, Unprotected Sex (we're all adults here 😂), Slight Praise Kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Over Stimulation

Word Count: 5,089 I really outdid myself on this one

It had been a few days since you and Logan had returned back to the Mansion after a mission that had gone awry. The tensions that lingered between you and Logan were so thick and suffocating that you could cut through them with a knife. The mere idea of being in the same room, much less under the same roof of the Mansion as him made your blood boil. You could still hear his words. They were practically burned into the back of your mind.

During the mission, you had refused to take orders from Logan towards the end. It was a do or die situation, and you let your emotions get in the way of your judgments. If it hadn't been for you having your own healing factor, that day would have been your last. While attempting to take down a rogue mutant, you and Logan both had been overtaken from underestimating this mutant. You refused to flee despite Logan yelling at you to get out of there. In turn, you sat there on the bed you usually shared with Logan, gazing up at the roof.

The bed felt so empty without Logan laying next to you. After the argument each of you had, he had refused to sleep in there with you. This hurt worse than that piece of steel that had impaled you through the left lower portion of your abdomen. Neither of you would apologize for the things that each of you had yelled at each other. It was in the heat of the moment and out of irrational emotions. You sigh with exasperation, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

“This is stupid…all of this is stupid.”

You curse under your breath and force yourself up and out of the bed. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating. It felt as though someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto your chest. Glancing at the small clock that rested on the dresser, the time read 02:45. It was almost three in the morning on the fifth day, and still, neither you nor Logan spoke a word to each other. You angrily grab a pair of your jeans and a tank-top to replace your pajamas. At this point, you had figured maybe getting out of the mansion for a little while could do you some good.

Cracking the door open, you glance both ways around the hall to be sure no one was wandering this late. Seeing it empty, you quietly exhale a breath and sneak towards the staircase and tiptoe down to the first level of the mansion. Parts of you begged that Logan was asleep, but your heart screamed that he would be awake and that you could try to talk about what happened. Straining your eyes, you try to see if you can see the figure of Logan on the couch. Your gut nagged at you to sneak closer, but you also wanted out of there for a few minutes. Fresh air would do you some good, and hopefully a jog around the campus would tire you enough to be able to sleep.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh dejectedly and quietly snake your way out of the door of the mansion. The night air was cool and crisp. The pale moonlight had cast an eerily familiar glow across the night sky. Stars twinkled like tiny lanterns against the blanket of black sky. The moisture that clung to the air had formed a ghastly ring around the moon, and filled the air with a soothing chill that prickled at your skin.

Once you are far enough away from the mansion, you bring yourself into a light jog. The cool, night air stung your lungs and gripped your chest, almost constricting your lungs. Cursing, you push yourself to pick up your pace. The only sounds you could hear were the chirping of crickets and the light fluttering of your heart in your chest. In that moment, your legs brought you further and further away from the mansion. The farther away you managed to bring yourself from there, the closer you drew to breaking.

Your chest grew tight and the back of your throat began to burn with emotion. Tears had begun to sting the corners of your eyes, and before you knew it, your knees were crumbling from beneath you, sending you to the ground onto your hands and knees. Hot tears fell from your eyes, staining your cheeks as you punched the ground. Your emotions hit you like a runaway freight train. Anger. Sadness. Remorse. Hurt. They surged through your veins like a hurricane threatening to tear you apart from the inside out.

Your mind wandered back to the mission. You could still picture everything vividly. Hear everything vividly.

“Get out of here! Go! I can handle these assholes!” Logan had yelled at you while struggling against the rogue mutant and several of its cronies.

“No! I'm not leaving here without you! We came here as a team, we're leaving here as a team!” You had retorted. Ya'll were outnumbered and potentially outmatched. But neither of you wanted to give up so easily. Your protesting against Logan had distracted him enough to leave him vulnerable. Even if it was just a few seconds, you saw the impending attack coming.

“Logan!!!” You cried out, rushing to him and hastily pulled him out of the way of the approaching attack that landed you injured. You didn't care about your own well being at that moment. You had pulled Logan out of the way, but landed yourself severely injured and the rogue mutant had escaped.

As you thought back to it, the more tears that fell down your cheeks. You were mad at yourself, mad at Logan, mad at everyone and anyone possibly that was involved on that mission. But that wasn't even the part that had hurt you the most. It was the argument after you had recovered.

“When I tell you to leave, I mean it. You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was trying to protect you! You're welcome by the way. No thank you. No that you're glad I'm okay. No nothing?! Just straight to tearing into me?!”

“Protect me? By getting yourself killed?! Oh, very smart. Perfect. You almost got yourself killed and we failed the mission thanks to you!”

“Fuck you. You can be a real prick, Logan. A real fucking prick.”

“Rather be a prick than an idiot, Princess.”

“Just get out. If you're just here to lecture me, then get the fuck out! Get out! I'm done!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

That wasn't how you wanted things to go. It wasn't how you pictured things would go. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at Logan the way you had, much less end things on such a sour note. You sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your wrists. The damage was done. The words were said. You curse under your breath at yourself for breaking down again like this. Just as you began to move to get to your feet, you could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Your heart crawled its way deep into your throat, making you almost choke on your own breath. You recognized that stride; Logan. What the hell was he doing out here?

He walked next to you without a word. His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and lost in thought. Without a word, he plops down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the dark labyrinth of forest that surrounded the mansion. A rich had worked its way into his jaw as he silently mulled things over in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but yet he still remained adamant on not breaking his silent treatment towards you.

It took everything in you to not stare at him. Your heart somersaulted in your chest. It felt like you were laying your eyes on him for the first time all over again. You missed him, and he missed you, but both of you were too level headed to say anything. You swallow dryly as the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Fuck. You knew he could hear the way your heart was fluttering. You wanted to stay mad at him, but at this point, you didn't have the energy anymore. Before you can open your mouth, by some miracle, he broke the unofficial oath of silence between you two.

“Stop trying to fake it. I can hear it , y'know.” You wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but you kept your composure. Sniffling again, you shrug off his comment.

“I was jogging. Of course my heart is going to be beating a little harder, Captain Obvious.” You practically hiss at him. It was growing harder to stay mad at him. You missed him. You missed his voice. You missed the way he smelled of oak, leather, and mint. You frantically blink away the tears that threatened to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Can tell the difference, Princess. Don't have to lie about it,” he states bluntly. He knew he was getting under your skin at this point. You hated how smug he appeared to be. You hated how he could be so comfortable doing this without so much as an apology. At this point you'd be satisfied with a half-assed ‘I was wrong’ from him, but you knew that would never happen.

Silence then fell between each of you again. You tried your best to ignore him being there, focusing your attention on anything but him. But his presence was damn near unbearable. He had sat close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but just far enough to be right out of immediate touch. You catch yourself glancing at him, eyeing him up and down. With the white beater he wore, you could see how visibly tense he was. His biceps looked tense, hard even. His chest slowly rose and fell with steady breaths. It felt impossible to pry your eyes off of him.

“Y'know, for being so mad at me, you sure are starin’ a lot. S'there something on your mind?” He finally turns to face you, cocking his head to the side. You tried your best to look away from him, but for some reason, he just wasn't having that. He moved closer to you despite your efforts to keep your gaze away from him. He finally settles himself in front of you; the way he was crouched in front of you forced you to drag your eyes towards him. His gaze was hard on you, but something about it was different. Part of you half expected another lecture to come from him.

“If you came out here to give me another lecture, you're wasting your time.” You state bluntly and try to turn away from him, but he grabs your knee tightly in his hand, dragging you closer to him. The sudden tug earns a soft yelp from you. The force causes you to fall against your back into the grass. Logan moves to rest his weight on the palms of his hands on either side of your head, his knees encasing your hips leaving you with nowhere to go. Your heart thundered in your chest and ears. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, your body instinctively gave in to how easily he could overpower you. You felt mad; you felt hopeless; but underneath everything, you wanted him–no–needed him back. Tears began to burn the corners of your eyes again, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut again to keep the tears from falling.

Logan audibly exhales a heavy sigh. He moves his hand to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. Seeing you like this tore him apart on the inside. This hurt him in ways he never knew he could hurt. “Look at me. C'mon, hey. Hey…look at me, please. You know damn good and well I don't like beggin’ now, Darlin’.”

His gaze was still hard on you, but his voice was surprisingly soft. You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him. God you wanted him so badly. You finally move your hands to gently rest against his chest. His heart thrumbed rhythmically deep in his chest; every beat you felt against the palm of your hand pushed your anger down further. You knew it, and he knew it too that neither of you meant all of those words from before. “Lo…I--I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

Your sentence is cut short as he presses his lips against yours for a hungry and needy kiss. He tasted heavenly on your lips, sinful even. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your lips part with a needy moan, allowing him entrance. His fingers find their way into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging harshly to force you to crane your neck as another sinful moan fell from your lips. The new angle allows him to deepen the kiss even further. Your arms snake around his neck, wanting to hold him there and never let go.

He breaks away from the kiss to hungrily gulp down air. A string of saliva remained connected between both your and his lips. His eyes close again as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent and slowly exhaling a shaky breath. “M'sorry too. I really am. Thought I–I was going to lose you…” He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sends bolts of electricity through your body. A layer of goosebumps scratch their way onto the surface of your skin.

“Lo…” You whine quietly, craning your neck to give him better access. The scruff on his chin scrapes against your skin, making your eyes flutter as your entire body begins to grow hot. You wanted him. Needed him. A soft gasp escapes you at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your tender skin just above your collarbone. Any harder and you knew his teeth would draw blood, but you didn't care. You wanted him to take you, to mark you, to make you his again. “Lo, please…my god, please…”

He releases your shoulder, his mouth leaving behind a rapidly bruising hickey there. You couldn't help the heat that you felt growing in the pits of your gut and loins. Your thighs ached and your pussy burned for him and his touch. You lift your head to gaze up at him. He was hunkered down on all fours, his eyes were dark, primal even as he licked his lips. He could still taste your sweet and tender skin on his lips, and he wanted more, needed more. Your heart began to thunder uncontrollably within your chest. Fear and arousal filled your body. The sweet scents made his pupils dilate as he breathed you in once more, growling lowly deep in his chest.

“Run. Run little lamb. I'll be kind enough to give you a headstart.” He husks through a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes was so much more than a wanting need. This was a primal want, a hunger–a hunger that only longed for you and your body. Your legs felt weak with fear and arousal. There was only one other time you had experienced Logan like this, and by God's did you want to experience it again. You're slow to get to your feet. Your head is swimming with different emotions and scenarios.

“Lo–”

“Ten seconds, little lamb.”

Fuck, he was serious. You were almost too afraid to turn and run.

“Nine.”

He was standing at this point. He stood close to a foot over you in height. The corner of his lips twitched into a near snarling grin as he started to walk–no–stalk towards you. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, you manage to find the strength in you to try to run. You didn't know where you would run to; all you knew is that your legs went into overdrive, carrying you wherever you could. All you knew is that you had to run. Run as far and fast as you possibly could. You glance over your shoulder, seeing him still standing there with his eyes still trained on you.

‘Five. Come on legs, move! Faster dammit! Faster!’ Your thoughts raced wildly. You had two options, run to the forest or try to run to the Mansion. You felt hopeless, cause at any second, you knew Logan would be on you like a rabid and hungry animal. The thought of that only added to your growing arousal. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable. You needed some sort of friction to help with the ever growing ache.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! Oh god, I can hear him. Move legs! Move faster, dammit!’ It was undeniable. You knew Logan was now rapidly closing in on the distance you had made from him. You could hear every breathy, pant he took with every step he made towards you. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock at how quickly he moved across the ground. He was on all fours, bounding towards you with no intention of stopping until he had you in his grasp. You try to force your legs to move faster, but your calves begin to burn. You were doomed. Your chest and lungs burned with every breath you gulped down. He was drawing himself closer by the second. You could see his silhouette on the ground behind you growing nearer. You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“Not fast enough, little lamb.” His voice rasped as he grew closer. Within seconds, his arms are curling around you as he tackles you down to the ground. Curling his body around yours, he takes most of the impact as you're both sent tumbling across the grass. You desperately try to push him off, but it’s to no avail. You're pinned to the ground by him, but still, you desperately try to wriggle free from him which only makes him growl with pleasure at your struggling.

“Logan, please.” You whine again, chest heaving and body aching. You try to rub your thighs together for friction, but that idea is short-lived. Using his knees, he forces your thighs apart while hungrily crashing his lips against yours. The heat of his mouth swallows up your moans.

“Please what? Use your words, little lamb.” He husks against your lips. His hands snatch your wrists as you try to touch his chest, pinning them above your head. Like this, you were completely at his mercy, awaiting to viciously and lavishly be devoured by him.

“Need you. I need you. Please. Logan, I need you.” You beg hopelessly beneath him. He growls lowly under his breath, his entire body vibrating against yours as he does so. You weren't sure how much longer you could handle this. Your entire body felt like it would explode at any moment from the anticipation. “Logan, I need you…need you to take me…claim me…fuck me…”

“That's a good little lamb,” he husks again. His voice is raspy, bassy even. Leaning back onto his heels, he pulls you flush against his chest with a sinister smirk. “Tonight, you're mine, and only mine.” In one fluid motion, he's onto his feet, pulling you along with him as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. You clamp a hand over your own mouth to muffle your pitiful squeak. This was it, you were done for, but by the gods did you need this. For days, each of you had been starved of attention, affection and each other's touch. Each of you needed this more than either of you could comprehend.

His chest was heaving. The scent of your arousal was driving him crazy. He could hear your heart fluttering rapidly in your chest, your shallow breaths, and the soft, muffled whimpers of need that you desperately tried to hide through the palm of your hand. Every step, he grew closer to the Mansion where he quietly entered and made his way up the stairs with you. You prayed that everyone was still asleep; that no one would be able to hear the way he was going to fuck you.

He sets you down so that he can open the door to the bedroom he shared with you. You practically stumble through the door, eager for his touch to be on you again. Once the door is closed and locked, he's on you again like a feral animal. His lips crash against yours as he backs you up towards the bed. He breaks the kiss for a moment, eagerly tugging your shirt up your body and over your arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to hike his beater up his stomach and chest; grabbing the garment and tugging it over his head, he tosses it as well before reconnecting his lips to yours.

His fingers maneuver around the waist of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with ease. Your hands wrestle with his, eagerly tugging both your jeans and panties down your thighs while trying to kick off your shoes. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your eagerness. Gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to lay back onto the mattress where you finish kicking off your shoes and garments. He drags his eyes across your body. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your curves, making him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“You next,” you pant to him. You needed him like a drug. Against his will, you sat up and eagerly reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle due to how your hands trembled. He groans as you eagerly tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs; his erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. You move to take him into your mouth, but he stops you with a harsh hand on your throat.

“Oh no, princess. Not this time. Tonight, you're mine. You belong to me.” The words sounded like sinful silk coming from his mouth. You scoot back onto the mattress, heart pounding as he follows right behind you. Beads of sweat rested along the ridge of his brows and his back glistened in the pale moonlight of the room as he drew closer to you. He wraps your legs over the top of his shoulders, dipping his head into the aching heat between your thighs. He slowly drags his tongue through the slick folds of your cunt. You moan heatedly, arching your back slightly at the sensation. He growls into your slick cunt, sending vibrations straight to your core as he drags his tongue through your cunt again, pausing over your clit where he draws tight, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves.

His fingers dug deep into the fleshy parts of your thighs, his nails leaving tiny crescent shapes that were bound to bruise later. A needy growl falls from his lips as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Your legs trembled at the sensation, making you desperately grind yourself into the demanding heat of his mouth. He pulls away briefly, only to dive back into the heat between your legs. His tongue plunges into your sopping and trembling cunt; the scruff on his chin adds the friction you desperately needed. Your hands manage to find the crown of his head; your fingers become entangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you desperately chant his name.

“Mmph–fuck, Lo…don't stop, don't stop…” You chant through desperate, breathy pants. He was edging you closer and closer to your first orgasm. He could feel the way your pussy flexed as you were nearing your first orgasm of the night. He groans at the way you ground your cunt into his mouth. His hand releases your thigh, plunging two fingers deep into your trembling core. His tongue flicks against your clit again, and again, drawing you closer to spilling over the edge. He draws his fingers away, only to plunge them deep into you again in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….Logan, I'm so close…please–” Your eyes roll to the back kf your head as your vision goes white. Your first orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your thighs shake and tremble uncontrollably as you desperately try to push him away from your aching clit, but his grip on your thigh helps to hold you down in place. It felt as though your whole body was lit ablaze while you rode out your first high of the night, gasping for air as he finally pulled away once he's finished lapping you up.

“You're doing so well for me. Look at you, making such a mess for me like a good girl.” He coos while massaging your thighs. The remnants of your orgasm glisten on his chin as he drags his eyes across your body again. “I fucking need you. Crave you. We're just getting started. Don't tell me you're all fucked out already.” He places a tender and chaste kiss to your clit, and then onto your stomach, working a trail up the length of your body until he meets your lips. You eagerly and hungrily kiss him, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue.

“No. Need you. Please.” You beg against his lips. He rests his weight on one of his forearms, using his other hand to swipe the head of his cock through your still ever weeping cunt. A shaky sigh falls from your lips as his cock slowly fills your still sensitive and overstimulated folds. He pulls out, only to snap his hips against yours, filling you to the brim as he buries his entire length into you up to the hilt. You groan into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His lips find yours again, desperate and needy. Your lips part, allowing him more access into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing for dominance through the kiss. He tasted heavenly sinful on your tongue; you could still taste the faint remnants of yourself in his mouth and saliva. He snaps his hips against yours again, grinding his hips against yours. You whimper out out needy moan as he somehow buries himself deeper into your folds. Every thrust of his hips was harsh and deliberate, filling you to the core and splitting you open more.

You break away from the kiss, your lips meeting his jaw with a trail of kisses along his jawline and to his neck and throat. You trail your tongue along the length of his pulse while dragging your nails down his back. He growls almost primitively, snapping his hips once again. The room is filled with the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin; the sounds mixed into the soft symphony of moans and groans that come from both you and Logan.

“Do it again. Fuck…” He groans against the shell of your ear. Nodding, you rake your nails down his chest this time, your nails leave behind welting scratch marks on his skin. Your back arches up from the mattress as he slips a hand between your bodies; his fingers find your clit, drawing tight circles around the bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your toes curl as another coil begins to tighten in your abdomen. His cock throbbed deep within your quivering pussy, his length dragging along your walls made your legs tremble and shake.

“Lo…Oh fuck, I'm so close…” You pant desperately. Your hands rest on his shoulder blades, your nails sinking into his chiseled back. His thrusts stutter slightly, faltering as he grew near the edge. You could feel the way his cock throbbed that he was close to orgasm. “Oh fuck…please, Logan…don't stop, Don't stop…” You chant, burying your face into the hollow of his neck.

“Fuck…you're so tight. Feel so fucking good. Want you to cum on my cock. Cum for me, princess. Fuck…” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin with every desperate pant that escapes from him. He slips his other arm underneath your back, pulling you close against him as the walls of your pussy tighten and contract around his cock. Your vision blurs to white again as you cry out his name like a sinful prayer. He groans heatedly, his back arching as his orgasm finally hits not too far behind yours, painting the inside of your cunt and cervix white.

His thrusts slow until his hips finally still against yours. He pants raggedly against your shoulder, removing his hand from your abused and overly stimulated clit. He gazes down at you, his expression soft and brows furrowed with concern. The back of his throat burned with emotion as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asks softly, his hand gingerly cups your cheek.

You shake your head, placing a tender kiss on his nose. “No. Not at all. I'm so sorry, Logan…for everything. I didn't mean any of what I said…”

“Ssshhh…I know, I know…” He gently pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back with you laying on his chest. His heart pounded rhythmically against your hands. “I'm sorry too…I was a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you.” His eyes fell on the jagged scar that now claimed the lower left portion of your abdomen. His eyes soften more as his hand gently touches the scar for the first time since you had been released from the infirmary.

“Guess this means we're on talking terms again? No more silent treatment?” You try to tease lightly, which earns a chuckle from Logan.

“Oh,I think we're well past the silent treatment, princess.” He gently pulls you down for another chaste kiss.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett #james logan howlett #wolverine x reader #nsft fanfic #marvel smut #x reader smut #x men #x men comics #x men fanfiction #hugh jackman wolverine #hugh jackman #marvel blog

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forsaken-headcanons · 4 months ago

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You know what? I mustered up the courage to come off of anon just for this. (Not gonna tag myself, but knowing my writing style, it’s probably gonna be obvious who I am lol.)

So uh. I’m fine now, but for some context: I was kinda upset earlier. And like a perfectly normal person, I wrote some self-indulgent rarepair stuff to make myself feel better. And now I’m sharing it with you all! Hope you don’t mind :]

Elliot / John Doe

Elliot once ‘tamed’ a feral John by feeding him pizza. It was a complete accident, too. He was trying to give it to Shedletsky, but John got in the way.

It didn’t stop him from attacking the others, unfortunately. But he did leave Elliot alone for the rest of the round.

Being able to neutralize a threat like that is a big deal, so you bet that Elliot tried that shi again. Through trial and error, he discovered that John’s favourite is a plain old cheese pizza.

John’s memories while feral are fuzzy at best, and complete blanks at worst. Thus, he enjoyed getting properly aquatinted with Elliot after he managed to snap out of it about halfway through a round.

Using that one ‘the killers share a cabin across the water from the survivors cabin’ hc, John and Elliot will sometimes “meet up” between rounds by standing on their respective docks and shouting across the water at one another. They’d chat for as long as they could about the most random of things, just enjoying each other’s company.

Elliot once found a way to get a box of cheese pizza over to the killers side, and the gesture almost brought John to tears.

Noob / 1x1x1x1

Since there’s only four killers (as of writing this), I imagine that there’s barely any breaks between being chosen for rounds. And if the Spectre’s feeling particularly mean, one killer might get chosen over and over and over- (totally didn’t experience a server once with like 4 or 5 Mafiosos that we got back to back.)

See where I’m heading with this? The Spectre ends up favouring 1x1x1x1 for a while, which leads to him being worked to the bone. I’d say ‘poor guy’, but this is probably karma at this point…

No one really thinks much about it until 1x just straight-up collapses of exhaustion during a round. That was the moment that everyone realized that the killers weren’t these unstoppable machines of death; that they were bound by the same rules mortals were.

Maybe it’s naivety. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But regardless, Noob’s the only one brave (or stupid) enough to approach a killer like this. The embodiment of hatred was clearly unhappy, but it’s not like he could hurt anyone in this state.

While the others did their thing, Noob kept watch over 1x. Mostly to make sure he didn’t start killing again, but also because a small part of him felt bad for the guy.

Even after the round ended and 1x got the rest he needed, Noob didn’t seem to fear him as much after that. It initially annoyed 1x1x1x1, but he eventually started to see the noob in a slightly different light when they offered themselves up after realizing that he hadn’t gotten a single kill in like, four rounds (not back to back this time, luckily. But still.)

1x eventually confronted Noob on their behaviour, and you know what he said? Noob admitted that he thought 1x could be a better (and less murder-y) person if he just had a friend.

And the crazy thing is, they were kind-of right.

There. I said my piece. I was oddly scared about sharing these for whatever reason, but yeah. I like imagining these goobers doing silly things together, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t/lh

(I should honestly write a fic for this or something. I have way too many ideas with these guys-)

Ahh, you're the fella who I see liking all of my posts. Hello there.

Really nice headcanons and really nice rarepairs. I hope you're alright now and whatever upset you is now dealt with.

#forsaken headcanons #forsaken #forsaken roblox #roblox forsaken #elliot forsaken #john doe forsaken #1x1x1x1 forsaken #noob forsaken

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pdpenpals · 1 year ago

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hihi! i was wondering if i could get a romantic letter from phoenix drop high gene? she/they pronouns please :)

and for the context of the letter, maybe Gene & Reader recently started dating but can’t text because Reader is away at an academic sleep away camp (preferably centered around literature/writing)? Reader is on the more academic/nerdy side and not officially part of the SK so them doing these kinds of programs is their usual summer thing but it’s the first time Gene and Reader have been away from eachother since they started dating

tysm <33

hihi!! thanks for sending this in, i think this prompt’s absolutely adorable!

unrelated but speaking of literature whenever i see gene now that i’m older i think of heathcliff (more of the name) or the phantom for some reason.

your entire being perks up at the mention that a letter’s arrived, and your heart races as you go through who could have possibly sent it in your head. the moment you have it in your hands, you can almost tell exactly who it’s from. the envelope’s a dark gray, close enough to be black. there are stickers all over its back next to your name and address, same goes for the front. opening it, you catch a whiff of someone familiar’s cologne. that cheeky bastard.

you notice almost immediately that there’s not only a letter inside, but a bunch of printed photos and some unused stickers. after finding a spot to settle your new goodies upon, you get comfy and get to reading.

Hey cutie. Miss me yet?

Heard a fair’s coming to town soon. I think it’ll still be there when you get back. There should even be fireworks on the last day. We can go there if you wanna.

Other than that, nothing much happened today. Dante was out, and I had the house to myself for a good portion of the afternoon. Without sugarcoating it, I was bored out of my mind.

It took me a while to figure out my texts or calls weren’t getting through to you. Mom must have seen how frustrated I was about it, so she shared some of her spare stationery with me as a last resort. She said something about wanting to hear about how your summer’s been doing so far.

That’s all the small talk I can handle for today. You might get too tired of staring at only words for too long over there, so you might want to check out the pics taken these past few days. The stickers are from Zenix and Sasha by the way, they also say hi.

Kidding aside, I know how much this whole camp thing means to you. But I’ve been feeling weird ever since you left. It’s weirder knowing you’re not nearby. When you’re not a walk or a call away. Even though I know exactly how many days and many hours are left until you come back.

Sappy shit out the way, I decided to read that one book you lent me at random. I’m not sure you remember it much since you hurriedly gave it to me without a second thought, but it’s that really old one about the day before the world ends. All that apocalyptic and sad shit. Even though I didn’t get it, I guess it was nice that Vincent and Leticia got their happy ending. To be honest, the book overall didn’t stand out to me much, but the concept of having one day left to live sure did.

If I knew the world was going to end tomorrow I would

Y’know, maybe it’s for the best I save it for when we meet again in person, so you better come back home in one piece, yeah?

With an aching heart and hand, Your Gene, who misses you terribly

PS. I feel like you’ve been rubbing off on me recently, state-of-mind-wise. While it’s not that bad, it gives me the chills.

PPS. If not having you near me hasn't driven me insane yet, I definitely will go mad if this letter doesn't make it to you. Especially after all I've put my wrist through just for this. Maybe I should visit the post office a few more times?

#💌 — from the mailroom!#aphmau #aphblr #mystreet #mystreet x reader #phoenix drop high #phoenix drop high x reader #pdh x reader #mystreet gene #pdh gene #mystreet gene x reader #phoenix drop high gene x reader #no beta we die like mcd aaron

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crimsoncold · 5 months ago

Text

Jonsa Fairytale AU (True Love's Kiss) by @crimsoncold

If you must mourn, my love Mourn with the moon and the stars up above If you must mourn Don't do it alone

...

If you must die, sweetheart Die knowing your life was my life's best part If you must die Remember your life

-Keaton Henson, You

For a while l've been considering doing a Fairytale inspired jonsa AU but was never able to make up my mind in terms of which specific fairytale I wanted to base my art piece around (i could of course just do multiple ones but with already so many WIPs i didn't want to plan to add several more into my art rotation) so unable to make a decision I set the idea aside to work on other more concrete art ideas.

Then of course I saw the prompts for the Jonsa Valentine 2025 event, and it really did seem like the world itself was encouraging me to make a fairytale jonsa art piece.

This time I chose to avoid basing it on one specific fairytale and instead considered more general fairytale tropes that are found across many tales when I was brainstorming ideas on what I would make for this prompt.

In the end I decided to use the trope of True Love's Kiss (i.e. A kiss imbued with it's own sort of magic, able to break a curse, or even bring someone back from literal death) both because I thought it would be visually interesting and because I felt it would incorporate several elements of asoiaf/got canon.

(i.e. both the inherent romanticism of Jon and Sansa's personalities and storylines as well as specific events like Jon's tragic "death" and his later resurrection as well as the likely possibility of Sansa being the girl in grey fleeing north to be reunited with her "brother")

I was pushing hard to have this finished in time (with the event being about a month a way when I first started this) and even though it ended up taking me a lot more time than I had hoped, I am happy with my decision to make two versions of this artwork as i feel the most satisfying element and impactful part of this fairytale trope is in the profound transformation it can create, and to do this justice I really felt I needed a before and after version of Sansa's Kiss being what brings Jon back from the dead.

As for the related quote, I had been struggling to pick one as most of my possible choices, while admittedly poignant and romantic, felt very specific to either Jon or to Sansa in this art piece rather than being about the two of them together, so I'm actually really pleased with my final choice (lyrics from Keaton Henson's song You) as it feels like it had segments that represent the differing perspectives/wishes of both Jon and Sansa in this scenario.

Anyway thats about all the background info I'd like to dump on you about this piece so l'll end this on a thank you; specifically thank you to anyone who found, liked, or shared this piece and/or bothered to read my rambling thoughts about making this, as well as a thank you to everyone in this fandom who arranged and/or participated in this event!

Being part of a small but so dedicated fandom is just the sort of thing that makes me happy when everything else around me starts to feel harsh and distressing. I hope you all have a wonderful day and that everyone feels inspired to keep making and sharing all sorts of art and creative pieces for this fandom- it seems a very small thing in the scope of everything happening in the world and our lives but its still something that brings some much needed joy that I think many (especially myself) greatly value while also forgetting or struggling to actually find a way to adequately express our appreciation... so this is just my attempt to say thank you all for making this little slice of fandom so wonderful!

-Crimson Cold

#jonsa #jonsa fanart #jonsa valentine 2025 #Crimson Cold #my art #sansa stark #jon snow #sansa stark fanart #jon snow fanart #asoiaf/got art #asoiaf/got #jon snow x sansa stark #jon x sansa #jonsa valentine #jonsa au #crimson cold thoughts

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atiny-for-life · 1 month ago

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I agree that Mingi is always in on the joke… that said, he did say that the "I cannot englishi" clip makes him uncomfortable and that it was the staff that told him to say something funny (this was right before his hiatus when he had started feeling anxious but the staff kept pushing him into the comedic relief role)

atiny made that line into something huge (+ they made fun and KEEP making fun of his english using it) to the point that he's not comfortable w it anymore, if he ever was to begin with…

anytime I see that clip I cringe thinking about how the fandom makes fun of him for everything he does (yes, he's in on the joke… but he's not a fool, he understands that 99% of the time people laugh AT him, not w him)

This might be my protective Seonghwa bias speaking but people need to leave Mingi alone!! sometimes it feels like they don't even see him as a human but just as a circus animal to point and laugh at (or drool over like he's just a piece of meat)

I think it'd be best not to share that clip, hopefully one day only veteran atiny will remember it but the rest will have forgotten or never know

I personally came into the fandom shortly after he went on hiatus and I never saw anything about him saying he's uncomfortable with the clip, just that it was staged. If you can remember where to find that Vlive though, that'd be really useful so I can clip and spread it!

I 100% agree that some Atiny have taken the bit way too far before, and still do. They don't seem to understand the difference between sharing a lighthearted inside joke and being an asshole bully. But those people can likely not be changed, no matter how often we all tell them to grow a brain and develop some emotional intelligence.

I definitely don't think it's most of the fandom though - far from it. Especially now that a big part of us have been sticking by them for years. But then again... the worst people always shout the loudest so they seem more abundant than they are, unfortunately.

Regarding spreading the clip: when I've mentioned Treasure Film before, I intentionally never included the clip since I never liked it when people make fun of his English, but I realized now that newer Atiny will stumble over it no matter what - Treasure Film is one of the most well known pieces of content from their early days after all - which is why I added the disclaimer about it being staged and not taking the bit too far.

I think with the context, people will know how to view it and won't do anything bad with it, especially in this little corner of the fandom here on Tumblr.

I also definitely get being protective of Mingi! I feel very protective of all of them and I'll call stuff out when I see it because of that, but I also feel a bit reassured these days since they've all grown far more confident in themselves and they're also much, much more outspoken than ever before.

So if someone pulls some shit (be that staff on set, an interviewer, or a "fan"), I think we can trust they'll address it right there and then with their usual poise instead of feeling the need to turn the other cheek like they likely often did in their early days when they still had to be scared of losing their chance at a place in the industry due to their origins being in a small company.

Ultimately, I think the best thing to do for all of us is to be vocal in our appreciation of Mingi (and the other members) and to ignore the shitty "fans" so they don't get any engagement and eventually just disappear back into the ether where they belong~

I hope I could explain myself well here and that my intentions come across right!

#ateez #song mingi #qanda

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spoonfulofmilo · 22 days ago

Text

Contestant Number 15's Introduction

updates will be tues, wed and thursday my time at 7pm aest!

love y'all

the bachelor masterlist is here

part 1 is here

---

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

The car that pulled up gleamed under the evening light, sleek, sophisticated, clearly expensive, but the man who stepped out of it somehow managed to outshine even that. There was a calm about him, the kind that made you stop and watch for just a little longer. His blond hair, naturally wavy, had been slicked back with a slight middle part that gave him an old-Hollywood edge, modernized by the ease with which he wore it.

Y/N’s eyes took in the rest, his striking blue eyes, sharp yet gentle, and a face that looked almost too perfect to be real. Model features softened by boyish warmth. His expression was quiet, measured, but not stiff, just reserved, like someone who had learned early to keep his cards close.

He held a pair of sunglasses in one hand, his fingers adorned with a few silver rings, nothing flashy, just personal. Y/N noticed. He’d never admit it, but something about rings on a guy? Yeah, it did things.

He wore a crisp, white button-up shirt tucked neatly into dark trousers. A brown leather belt matched his polished shoes, effortlessly tying the look together. There was nothing performative about the way he dressed, it was refined, understated. Thoughtful.

“Guten Tag,” he said, offering a small smile that lit up his whole face. “I’m Mick.”

His voice was soft, with the unmistakable lilt of his German accent, smooth, elegant, but relaxed. Not too formal. Just... genuine.

Y/N smiled, stepping forward. “So, Mick, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

He paused a moment, considering. “I’m from Germany, 24,” he said, then let a subtle grin form. “And surfing’s kind of my thing.”

Y/N raised a brow. “A surfer from Germany, huh? That’s not something you hear every day.”

Mick’s grin deepened just a little, as if he’d heard that before. “We don’t have the waves, but we find ways,” he replied, lightly. “I’ve spent a lot of time near water. Lakes, rivers. The ocean just... pulls me in.”

“So what actually brings you here, to the mansion?”

His expression turned more serious, not heavy, just open. “I’m ready to invest the time and effort into building something real,” he said. “Not just romance for the cameras. I’m looking for connection. For someone I can trust. And maybe someone I can share more than just a season with.”

Before Y/N could respond, Mick gently shifted the mood again.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, almost like a quiet afterthought, but there was a flicker of excitement in his voice. “I’ve got something for you.”

Y/N blinked. “You didn’t have to bring me anything,” he said with a curious smile. “But… what did you get me?”

Mick gave a little shrug, slipping on his sunglasses with casual ease before moving back toward the car. “It’s not exactly a gift,” he said over his shoulder. “More of a... piece of me.”

He opened the boot, and pulled out a surfboard.

But not just any surfboard.

The base was painted in a deep ocean blue that faded seamlessly into green, echoing the color of waves just before they break. The top was clean white, with a minimalist design of breaking waves painted in soft, flowing strokes. It was elegant, artistic, handcrafted with a kind of precision that revealed time and intention.

At the center, just below the nose, the name Y/N was written in subtle, tasteful lettering.

Y/N stared, stunned into silence.

“You…” he started, but the words got caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Mick stepped closer, surfboard in hand. “I made it myself,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “Took some time, but I wanted to give you something that wasn’t just a gesture. This is part of who I am. Surfing’s been with me through a lot, training, pressure, loss. It clears my head. Keeps me balanced. I thought maybe… you'd want a piece of that. Whether you surf or not.”

Y/N was still staring at the board, hands moving over the curves, the colors, the name. It wasn’t just beautiful, it was intentional. A part of Mick's soul in fiberglass and paint.

Mick tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And maybe,” he added, “if you're up for it, I’d love to take it out with you sometime. I could teach you the basics… or we could just sit on the beach and watch the water. Whatever feels right.”

Y/N laughed, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Actually… I surf. I love it. Haven’t in a while, but yeah, I’d be up for that. 100%.”

Mick’s eyes lit up, quietly, but unmistakably. “That’s good to hear,” he said with a nod. “Because I wasn’t going to go easy on you.”

Y/N smirked. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

A pause settled between them, comfortable, full of unspoken understanding.

Y/N tilted their head. “Alright, let’s go a bit deeper. If you could travel anywhere in the world right now, anywhere at all, where would you go?”

Mick didn’t hesitate. “Hawaii,” he said. “Germany’s all about order and control, it's where I’m from, and I love it. But Hawaii? That’s freedom. The ocean, the rhythm of the place, the way people live there... it’s slower. Lighter. Surfing there is on another level. I’d love to experience that with someone who gets it.”

Y/N nodded slowly, eyes lingering on the surfboard once more. “Well... if we ever go, I call dibs on the front of the board.”

Mick gave a quiet chuckle, his blue eyes gleaming behind the lenses. “Deal.”

(cut to Y/N’s interview)

“That was... unexpected. I mean, I was ready for the typical gift, a little chocolate, maybe a cute note, something easy, but a surfboard? Honestly, I didn’t know what to say at first. I was just... shocked. I’ve never had someone give me something so personal. It wasn’t just a ‘here, take this’ kind of moment. Mick put time and effort into it. He made it himself, and you can feel that. And the fact that it’s not just about the surfboard... It’s about what it means to him. The ocean, the waves, the freedom. I get it. And I think I get him too, a little bit. He’s got this... this quiet confidence, you know? He doesn’t need to show off or talk about himself to get attention. He just is, and it’s really easy to be drawn to that. And when he mentioned Hawaii? It felt like he was letting me into his world, just a little bit. I can see why it’s so special to him. It’s freeing. And it’s something I want to experience with him, maybe even more than just surfing. I don’t know... there’s something about him that just feels right. I’m definitely curious to see where this goes. He’s someone I could picture myself spending time with... getting to know. This whole thing? It might actually be something real.”

(cut to Mick’s interview)

“Y/N... he’s different. I mean, I can tell he’s real. There’s something about them that just... feels easy, you know? It’s not forced. When I handed them the surfboard, I wanted them to understand that it wasn’t just a gift. It’s... it’s me. Surfing, for me, is more than just a sport. It’s been a way to clear my mind, to find balance. To get away from the noise. I guess I wanted to share that... and maybe show them who I really am. Without the cameras. Without all the expectations. And when he said he surfed too? I don’t know, it was like this unspoken understanding, you know? I was relieved. I didn’t want them to feel like I was pushing something onto them, but now? Now, it feels like we’ve got something in common. We’ve got something to share. Maybe even more than just surfing. I can tell Y/N’s special. He’s not just here for the experience, he’s here for something real, too. And that’s... exactly what I’m looking for. Someone who’s not afraid to dive into something meaningful. Maybe... this could be the start of something.”

taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @bangbangdevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx, @koalapastries, @saucy-apples, @milessunflowers, @dramaticpiratellamas, @bunnisgreen, @jamesiesposts, @tammyfortis, @sleutherclaw, @blazecosplay, @toodeepintofandoms

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher x male reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x y/n #f1 x male reader

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cilil · 8 months ago

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Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

#on writing #writing advice #fanfic #fanfic community #fandom

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snek-panini · 4 months ago

Text

Today I'm sharing my final book of Binderary, the fantastically good, unfinished The Art of Letting Go by Nekhen. I've loved this fic for years, my friends. It's a Good Omens human AU with a lot of very kinky dom/sub things that are actually baked into the worldbuilding (but not as omegaverse. No shade, but this is different). I never thought I'd read a bdsm fic for the worldbuilding but here we are. Mind the tags and author's notes if you do decide to go for it; it gets intense in places. If you're concerned about in being incomplete, know that it does leave some obvious threads hanging but we end in a very soft place.

Not to be totally self-indulgent but oh my god I am so in love with this bind. I keep looking at it and being surprised that it's mine, that I made it. I think it might be the prettiest thing I've done to date. That's black faux leather (ubonga black, from Hollander's) on the cover, and the inset is platinum silk moire with pewter foil htv for the lettering. It's a crisscross binding, also known as a Secret Belgian, and it's my first time doing this style but it definitely won't be my last. This project was a bit of a challenge to myself; I took it from unformatted text document to finished book entirely within the month of February, to see if I could. And I did!

Have a look under the cut for more images and process talk. I went all out on the details with this one.

Close up of the front cover, where it has mitered corners that don't photograph too well because the leather's so shiny. The silk moire I used was a pair of scraps from when I bound Persuasion last Binderary. The border is deeper than I normally go for because the silk pieces were too small and already cut, so I had to have a bigger overlap. I'm a big fan of the finished product though. Absolutely no regrets.

The image on the back was a free image I found at the Noun Project, called "bound eclipse" (sic). I thought it looked a lot like wedding rings, and while there's no wedding in this fic there is an exchange of vows and an intense level of commitment, so it felt appropriate.

The recommended length for a crisscross binding is about 120-150 pages. As you see in these photos, this one does not fall within that range. It's 340, plus front matter, so maybe about 355-ish all told. It's chonky. Crisscrosses are glueless binds and I know gluing and backing would have helped with the swell in this one, but it's bdsm and unfinished. It had to be a crissscross. The spine piece in this style is held in place only be thread tension and that's the most bdsm thing ever. It's book shibari. I didn't trim the pages since there's not much point to it in a glueless bind (they shift too much) and I thought it would bother me but it doesn't. It's too pretty.

Let's open him up, shall we?The doublure is a cream colored lokta printed with metallic gold and silver ferns. Part of the trust-building process between our two leads involves refurbishing a dilapidated conservatory and bringing in new plants, so I thought some flourishing greenery would be appropriate, and it matches the color scheme very well. I also lined my spine with it, though this isn't very visible in the final product. I had a strip of bare board on the inside of the spine and was worried it would show. All you can see is that little peek at the very bottom, but better safe than sorry. Naked board would have made me very sad. The text block is sewn with regular linen thread, but the visible stitching on the cover is platinum embroidery floss. Fiddly to work with, slippery, but worth it for how well it matches the color scheme. It's also a little bit shiny, like the silk. Perfection.

All the interior ornaments are from the Noun Project. On the title page we have a collar (plot relevant. There's quite a bit of discussion and implication in the fic about collars). The scene breaks are all delineated with a little chain, which I thought was appropriate both due to some literal chains in the first chapter and because of the more metaphorical breaking of chains that goes on as our leads grow closer. The widget behind the chapter number is my favorite though. It's from the same set as the back image, but I made it a paler gray and layered it under the chapter numbers so they look like they're tied up. I was worried it would be too busy but it's perfect.

I chose the crisscross style for this fic for a couple of reasons. One is the thematic one about shibari that I mentioned above, and the other has to do with real-world considerations. I always bind unfinished fics as coptics, because they're glueless and have no spine piece, so in theory it would be relatively easy to come back someday and add more pages if the author ever updates again. However, I found out a couple of months ago that Nekhen had passed away unexpectedly in 2022. We didn't know each other, I just read their fics and was sad when there weren't any updates for a long time. I wanted to give some kind of acknowledgement of the fact that this one isn't finished and never will be, and having it be glueless but still have a covered spine felt like the right balance. We would always like more but we have to acknowledge that there's a period at the end of the sentence, you know? I wrote a binder's note about it at the end of the book (clearly marked, so you know it's from me and not the author) where I quoted the note from the Canterbury Tales that I talked about a few weeks ago: "Of this tale Chaucer made no more."

I just. I really love this book. I've loved the fic for years and now I can love it on paper. It's so good. It looks so professional. If I found this in a book store it would be out of my budget. I may never top it.

#good omens #bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #fic rec #god i still can't believe it #how did i even do that #i mean i was present for the whole thing but like #wow

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stygiansauce · 3 months ago

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ok i’m back and my thoughts are mostly together!

1. lore drop. i absolutely adore and abhor the grian-jimmy lore. like it hurts and it’s very real but also the almost discomfort of knowing like “hey as your sibling i understand that you’re an adult but as a parent you’re still my baby” and it probably doesn’t help with their ages being relatively close together!!! ahh!!! i love how grian wants jimjam to experience normal-ish adult things but still keep him so close under his wing. it’s just MWUAH chefs kiss (one day grian and jimmy are going to fight and maybe grian will say “you’re MY son” and jimmy will say “but you’re not mum” and oh it’s going to build until it breaks)

2. oh my god the emotional rollercoaster. i read tension, i giggle (and get weird looks from my friends). i read sibling dynamics, i gasp and clutch my pearls. i read unintentional immortalization of myself, i twirl my hair. i read JIZZIE!!! giggling again. you’re unreal everything is so in character

3. LORE DROP GOD TANGO LORE??? gosh and it’s so understandable with tango trying to feel out how having more friends works!! like zed’s his confidant and his brother in arms and gosh tango feels like he’s doing zed a disservice by confiding in other people!!! oh my godddd sauce you literally have to be omnipresent because ouch??? gosh and adequate!!! stop please my heart cannot take this. tango having the best memories of his life with adequate but having to give him up for a future!!

4. TENSION OH EM GEE. at this point every interaction between them is foreplay. and with etho and bdubs??? AND CLIMB 10. stop i actually almost shed a tear. (and i read the hanging indent i now have an ouchie and no one to kiss jt better). and the grian-tango stare off??? i love how unsettling you make his stare feel. being perceived is probably one of the worst feelings ever and grian is absolutely picking apart every piece of tango to see if he’s really actually just a teensy bit worthy of his baby brother.

5. tango jimmy tango jimmy TANGO JIMMY- LOLLIPOP SCENE ELECTRIC BOOGALOO YOU ARE ELECTROCUTING ME AND I AM BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS

ok this is a long one but holy crap keep up the PHENOMENAL work!!!

- 💿

CD anon...you have predicted so much. Apollo has smacked you with the gift of prophecy. I want...to...share...the...whole plot. SHAKING.

YES. The chill brother and the scared parent are two sides of the same coin and Jimmy has trouble differentiating between them. There is a reason he agrees to the bar crawl so fast and we learn later in the car that the reason is guilt. Tango struggles with a lot, but Jimmy's main villian in this story is guilt and his stuggle to be his own person, that isn't spending all his energy on other people. He has to learn how to be selfish. (see chapter three for more)

I had so much with all these characters. I honestly feel like Lizzie didn't get enough light but I will try to remedy that in another chapter. But for background lore about the Jizzie wedding that doesn't matter: Jimmy says "Either way, I was just there to witness. No one else could do it on short notice.” and we as the readers will never get to see (I might have Joel bring it up later in a small comment) but Jimmy wasn't "just there" he was Joel's best man. They didn't ask anyone else to come. They asked ONLY Jimmy to be there. He's down playing his worth in this scene. Though, I don't expect you guys to notice that because I didn't supply that context yet. we can chat about it here for now, becuase I think it will help you guys see some of the choices I made for Jimmy's character and how the lack of confidence he shows in the backflash hasn't really gone away. Not where it matters at least.

YES! You noticed his sacrifice! In chapter three Jimmy talks about how Tango is a giver. How he's always giving parts of himself away to their friends and being just...Tango. And then we get these bits about his life. Adequate was what he had before he met Zed, his ONE friend. Like he talks about ex-girlfriends and past hookups and all that, but he doesn't mention any other friends besides the one's he has in front of him. Tango had one thing, his horse. and when his father told him, "You’re a waste of a good brain stuck on this ranch, son" and I good will hunting the fuck out his character, we learn that he GAVE UP something he loves because he trusts his father/mentor/Zed and chooses to move away to persue a new, better life. Tango has so much inside of him that he just doesn't know how to talk about. He's a genious. He's smarter than everyone else in this story, including Etho. yet he still struggles academically. He still FEARS his thesis and what that will do for his life. and instead of worrying about that he's worried about JIMMY. He's still giving up parts of himself because it's all he knows how to do. Vs. Jimmy who is so tired of giving parts of himself that he holds it all close to his chest (see chapter three) and doesn't let Tango in. thank goodness Tango is patient because if he wasn't their relationship wouldn't be what it is now.

YEEAAHHH sorry I killed Climb. It was Hermitcraft season 10 lore. It hurt to do. In the orginal draft Tango is the one that had to put Climb down, but then I was like "thats so fucked up for no reason. A recreational horse like Climb would either just die, or be put down by a vet" and in all honesty? calling a vet and putting down a pet is worse than just having someone shoot it. It's dragged out and it hurts and poor Bdubs because y'all dont even know how he got Climb yet, and thats gonna make his death hurt worse when you know. (yum Hanging Indent lore) I REALLY enjoy the differences in reactions between Tango and Jimmy, when being preceived. In chapter three, Jimmy feels really precived (I know you. It echoes and mocks him, makes his breath lump in his throat, thick and awful.) , and his reaction is violence! He's on edge and instantly ready to fight, I wonder where he learned to feel like that... Vs. Tango who instantly wants to hide, and run, and curl into himself. He's a background guy. He isn't used to this and doesn't know how to react. The only time he reacts is when Jimmy is within his reach, almost like protection. Food for thought.

Lollipop scene 2.0!!! GOSH Tango has so much self control, holy cow. I love this scene for them. I LOVE the Etho talk on the porch. The way I would yap and break down each thing Etho does in that scene is crazy. Because Etho is using psychology on Tango, and he used it on you. Did you notice? There are no communication break downs between them. Tango is uncomfortable but Etho still drags it out of him. He says things that get certain answers. It's all casual yet calculated. FOOD FOR THOUGHT!! Hope you guys enjoyed! I can and will yap about this chapter but only AFTER you guys make the connections yourself. its no fun if I give it all to you. Kisses!! xoxo Sauce

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terry-perry · 11 months ago

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Are requests for the Alastor x carmine!reader still open because I thought of something about the early stages of their dating?

What if even though they're trying to keep it a secret and not tell a lot of people, but they can't resist being in such good moods because they're clearly in love with each other?

"I can't tell you their name but let me tell me how amazing this person is SWOON!!"

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce y'all to Lillian!

"Y/N! So good to see you baby! I feel it's been ages!"

Y/N walked into the salon and greeted her nail tech with a couple air kisses and a big hug. "Hi, Lillian -I know! I'm most definitely due for some new acrylics. Also, is Shannon in? I wanted to get my hair done too. Give it some shine, add some curls."

"She's got a few appointments, but for you? She'll make time!"

Lillian gleefully took her favorite client by the hand and led her toward her workstation. "So, nails and hair, huh? What's the occasion? Are you guys working on an important deal?"

"Nothing like that," Y/N said as she dipped her nails in the bowl of acetone placed in front of her, unable to keep her giddiness inside since she was still having trouble trying not to think about him anymore than she could help. "I have a date tonight!"

"Oh, is that so?" Lillian pondered, wide-eyed as she observed the big smile on Y/N's face.

"Yeah, it's with this guy I've been seeing for about a couple weeks. We've been going out for coffee and taking walks after work, but tonight is our first real date!"

"And where's the lucky guy taking you?" Lillian asked sweetly, focusing on buffing out the last bits of Y/N's acrylics but still investing in their conversation.

"We're going to this jazz club downtown that he likes for drinks and maybe dancing. Then he's planning on taking me to...The Severed Head."

Lillian stopped herself from making her buffer sponge slip out of her hands from surprise at hearing this. She lifted her head to show her disbelief to a practically beaming Y/N. "The Severed Head?! The fancy place people can't even afford to eat bread from?"

"The very same!" Y/N said with a giggle.

"I heard it can take up to months to get a reservation there. How'd you guys swing that?"

"He's got connections. He made a deal with the owner a while back, so you can say he's a big part of why the place has good business."

Lillian continued to look positively agog at this piece of gossip. "So he's an Overlord then. Impressive!"

Y/N hummed, looking very pensive suddenly. "He's incredible, a little rough around the edges, but he's quite the gentleman who treats me well. He's also pretty funny and charming. I feel like I can really be myself around him."

Lillian softly looked at the clearly lovestruck girl in front of her. Something rare to see in Hell was something so pure, but there it was. She was happy to witness such a sight until Y/N got serious about what she said next.

"The thing is we're not out in the open just yet. You know my mother; very few things meet her approval. I don't know if me going out with another Overlord would make that list. So we're doing our best to keep a low profile for now. We have a chance to go out tonight, but only because he had to pull some strings to ensure we'd be alone. So do you think you can keep this to yourself?"

"Oh, of course, my love! You know you can trust me. I'll take this to my grave!" When Y/N gave her a strange look, she added, "You know what I mean."

They shared a small laugh before Lillian continued her work.

Lillian heard the bell above the salon's door chime, indicating someone entered. She paused her clearing up her table to see who it was and gave them a big smile.

"Oh, if it isn't the lady killer himself!" She chirped while walking over to the front to greet them.

"Now my dear, we've been over this," Alastor replied with his trademark smile. "Those particular cases went cold. It was never proven that I was involved."

She laughed at his remark. "How can I help you today handsome? Your usual sharpening?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind, perhaps a clear coat polish. I want them to look extra sharp for tonight!"

"I can take you in a second! I just gotta finish clearing up my station." She gestured for him to follow her there while they continued their conversation. "So, what's going on tonight? Meeting the next star of your radio show? I've been kinda missing it since you've been gone."

"As much as I'd love to feature guests on my show again, I'm going to have to put a pin on that for now due to my current obligations with the princess," he sat down when she offered him a seat and when he sighed dreamily she had to do a small double take as though making sure this was still Alastor she was talking to. "No, I have plans to meet with a special lady this evening."

Lillian paused setting up her tools for Alastor's claws. Did she hear that correctly?

"Am I hearing this right?" She voiced her wonder. "Is the Radio Demon seeing someone that isn't a potential deal or guest on his show?"

"I suppose..." Alastor replied coyly, mindlessly twirling his microphone that suddenly began to play romantic jazz while he displayed a gentle smile. Seeing him like that was almost endearing, if a bit strange. "She's lovely - a dove among all the crows you find here in Hell. Our budding romance could blossom beautifully if I play my cards right! It's why I must look my best and give her a night she won't soon forget!"

Her suspicions were rising, but she needed more to absolutely know. "So what do we have planned for tonight?"

"Oh, I have quite the enchanted evening planned. We'll let some beautiful music play while we share drinks. We'll enjoy dinner and dancing, and if we have time left, I have a surprise for her I know she'll love."

"Ooh, spill!" She had to know what he had up his sleeve.

"This stays between us, right?" He asked with small notes of malicious intent as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Of course, dear," she said, not seeming to be affected by his subtle threat. "I wouldn't dare to dream of breaking nail tech-client confidentiality. I just love romance!"

He took another second to stare at her but went back to discussing his plans excitedly. "Well, she happens to love old movies. As you know, I'm not a fan of visual mediums, but she's worth it."

Lillian almost squealed right then and there. He must really think highly of this girl if he's willing to go through watching a movie with her. "Oh, so you'll finish the night with a movie?"

"A private screening of an old thriller from my time, yes," he answered. "It's about a hypnotist who brainwashes someone to commit multiple murders. I know she'll love it!"

Oh, Lillian knew this had to be Y/N he was talking about! His plans perfectly aligned with hers, and he's right about the movie. As sweet as Y/N can be, she also had a small edge which included having bizarre taste in films, books, and apparently men. She was astounded to learn about their relationship, but the more Lillian thought about it, the more they made sense. The daughter of the best arms dealer in Hell and the mischievous radio host with a soft side very few knew about. It was an unexpected pairing but also a pleasant one.

She couldn't believe she had front-row seats to what could be the start of Hell's cutest couple!

#alastor x reader #au #carmine!reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #drabble #oneshot #request #imagine #x reader

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