#dating spike would include

[snowberriies]

skhjbvgc ytf this is so cute

What would spike be like as a boyfriend, specifically maybe to a reader who's really short (like 4'11 to 5 foot short)...

Please don't say drop kick, that's what I got last time I asked for a comfort thing :)

Your writing is wonderful 💛💛

a/n: that’s absolutely awful that they said that, I don’t believe he would do that to be honest! And thank you so much for the kind comment, I’m completely open to criticism for my writing xx

Also I feel like it needs to be addressed his actions in season 6 - I would love a discussion about how others feel (I’ve only JUST finished watching buffy lol) and I love Spike but that episode was a mess? And I don’t want to disrespect anyone ... do we pretend it didn’t happen? do we accept him because he got his soul back? 

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬/𝐨

⸱ I definitely think you guys have a pride & prejudice beginning. He feigned hatred and tried to ignore you. You were nothing but a mere human to him. You’re close to Buffy and her gang of merry vampire slayers, which automatically made you an enemy

⸱ And yet, there was something about you. The twinkle in your eyes whenever you look up at him, the way you smiled when the world seemed it would end in a second.

⸱ He always considered himself, the Big Bad, but when an ancient vampire named Erylis came to Sunnydale, his reputation shadowed all else. No one knew where he came from, what he looked like. But he was someone to be afraid of.

⸱ You had been captured, drank from, but given something, that once rescued, no one could understand. You did not turn, but some of Erylis’ power seeped from him to you. You were faster, stronger, keener; more awake. Any wounds healed quickly and you were able to foresee a semblence of the future.

⸱ The group helped you the best way they could; Willow was always there to listen. Xander for a shoulder to lean on, Giles for information and Buffy for strength. They still accepted you, but wanted to know what exactly you were now. Some sort of superhuman?

⸱ Spike helped resue you from Erylis; after he had the chip inplanted in his head, what else was he supposed to do? Where else would he go?

⸱ He had pulled Erylis from your neck, and although tempted himself, he saw your paled face and something in his chest changed. Cracked open? Blossomed?

⸱ Now that Spike was ... sort of apart of the gang, he spent more time with you. Especially since he was the only one who wasn’t frightened of you. (The group still loved you, but they did have some apprehension, would you hurt someone? Did you need to feed?)

⸱ Spike was there when some of the questions about your change were answered. In short, there was small experiements. Like eating usual food; did it fill you up the same? Were you craving something else? Nope, it was like before. Except what you had liked before (possibly sweets, or chips etc,.) were intensified. And what you didn’t like seemed repulsive.

⸱ You had no desire to hurt other people, except those who had wronged you. You felt things more deeply, and the things that helped humans seemed to help you x100.

⸱ You always carry lavender and chamomile to help calm you down.

⸱ After getting to know you, he was smitten. He would try his best not to show it, but there was his possessive side that wanted to jump out whenever someone showed any type of interest in you

⸱ And you know what, you felt the same way. When he would be around any other girl, there was a flash of pain in your chest. You cared so deeply for him. But you tried not to show it; I mean Willow caught on. She caught on fast, then Buffy and Giles. Xander was completely oblivious. 

⸱ When you had your first kiss, he would’ve leant down, while you were on your tippy toes. 

⸱ He’s is vERY protective of you, even though you’re more durable than he is. Every demon knows there will be hell to pay if they go anywhere NEAR you. 

⸱ So, it’s actually a good thing for you and the gang... that you and Spike are together, it’s like they have an extra layer of protection. 

⸱ However, that does put Spike at risk. But he has plenty of enemies anyway, so he’s used to it

⸱ He likes it when he’s laying between your legs, head resting against your chest as you stroke his face. 

⸱ “Ya know pet, I wouldn’t of thought you and I would get along so well.” He mumbled one night, your head resting against his chest.       “Sometimes we don’t,” you replied teasingly.  “Well love, you know what they say.”      “What do they say, Spike?”  “Opposites attract.” 

⸱ You always wake up before him, but on the odd day that he wakes first, he’ll bring you in a cup of tea. 

⸱ Also I don’t want anyone saying this is out of character because we haven’t seen Spike in a positive relationship. So I do think he would be thoughtful to his significant other (also he’s british, they love tea)

⸱ His favourite thing to do together is when he has his head in your lap, and you’re reading out loud to him

⸱ He tells you tales of the lives he’s lived

⸱ Doesn’t like other people making inquiries or jokes about your relationship

⸱ There’s still tension when he’s around the group, but he is changing with you. Becoming softer, kinder

⸱ You’re becoming more ... sassy? If that’s the right word to use...more in tune with quick-witted comments

⸱ He knows a lot about you, not just because he listens to you talk but he has been watching you for a while. Noticing your quirks in conversations and likes/dislikes 

⸱ He knows your favourite movies and books

⸱ Spike loves taking you on adventures, especially when there’s chaos... have probably robbed a place together I won’t lie (it was pub with a sexist bartender, what else were you supposed to do?) 

[pathologicalreid]

the anniversary effect | s.r.

in which the anniversary of reader's assault nears and Spencer would move heaven and earth to make sure she's okay

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: past sa, rohypnol, chemist!reader, technically a continuation of don't get dark, but you don't have to read it first, not proofread because im a freak, panic attack, hydroxyzine, ptsd, read with care word count: 1.96k a/n: @lilacsandlavenderhaze you asked me to tag you when i publish this <3 so here it is <3 also hey guys do we like our summaries in the second or third person?

Spencer looked down at the keypad that would unlock the door to your lab. A custodian had let him in the chemistry building after a slight misuse of his bureau credentials, but he hadn’t realized that he wouldn’t be able to get into the laboratory. Every time he’d been here before, it had been either during working hours or you’d known to expect him. This time, you had no idea he was here.

He'd been looking everywhere for you, and he wasn’t sure why the lab wasn’t the first place he checked. Garcia had checked your phone’s location for him.

He eyed the keypad as if it were an enemy, looking for patterns in which keys were more worn than others, but your lab wasn’t the only one behind these doors. There was no way for him to be sure.

Ten keys mean ten thousand possible permutations, and that didn’t include the possibility that he might need to hit the pound sign or asterisk before or after the code. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he called your cell first—it went straight to voicemail. When he called your lab phone, it rang six times before he was asked to leave a message. He put his phone back in his pocket and tried a number—your birth year—and tried the same number with the pound sign and asterisk.

Spencer ran a frantic hand through his hair. He never should’ve gone on the case. He never should’ve been in Arizona while he knew you were stuck in your own mind. He tried another combination—the year you got your PhD—to no avail.

The two of you had talked about it last week. You started pulling away from him, and he finally commented on your behavior when his hand on your shoulder frightened you so badly that you dropped your favorite mug on the kitchen floor. Thankfully you hadn’t been burnt by any of the hot coffee, but upon discovering the mug was ruined, you were inconsolable. It was as if the broken mug had been your final straw, and Spencer had left for Flagstaff that day.

He tried a new combination—your birth month and date—and the keypad still flashed red. He released a huff of frustration and wondered if it would be fair form to shoot out the lock. Spencer shook his head, dismissing the extreme option from his list of choices before he resorted to wiggling the door handle, hoping the mechanism would fail and he could open the door.

A noise behind him caught his attention. Briefly, he made eye contact with the custodian, a young guy with spiked blonde hair, “Did you forget your ID?” He asked, pulling a wired earbud from his ear and jutting his chin in the direction of the door.

The lie formed in Spencer’s mind, already building a story to run by the custodian in order to get through the doors, “I left it in my office, would you mind?” Spencer gestured to the keypad, hoping he could get the custodian to swipe him through.

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde guy said, stalking over and pulling on his badge reel, swiping his university ID, and opening the door when it finally flashed green. “Have a good night, man,” the employee said, replacing his earbud before returning to his cart.

It was almost too easy to get him to open the door, which Spencer didn’t particularly appreciate. In this instance, it turned out to be beneficial, but he didn’t like that anyone could be let into the labs if they simply looked like they might belong. Instead of griping about it, he thanked him and slipped through the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way to your private lab.

You’d taken a new job recently, jumping to a different university in the district where they offered you a private lab for your research, and you seemed happy here. You had all of the freedom you needed to do things like stay at work even as the clock approached midnight. Maybe it was too much freedom, at least for right now.

He opened the door that had your name written across it, slowly stepping into the dark lab as he looked around for you. Spencer didn’t see you, and there weren’t many places for you to be out of view, in the dark, his other senses accommodated the loss of his sight, and his ears pricked when he heard a small shuffle.

Taking another step forward, he peeked around a lab table and found you.

You backed yourself into a corner, leaving nothing but a pile of limbs flush with the cabinet as you sat in silence, either ignoring or unaware of Spencer’s presence. He approached you with the same delicacy that one would approach a doe, he didn’t want to scare you. Hundreds of possibilities flurried through his mind as he crouched in front of you and took notice of the small bottle in your hand.

When you and Spencer had just started dating, before you’d ever been intimate, you’d told him about a time you went out with a group of college friends that ended with one of them attacking you. He drugged you and assaulted you, leaving you with a physical scar on your side and an emotional one on your heart.

Spencer didn’t make a habit of hating people he never met, but he made an exception in this case. He allowed himself to despise this man on your behalf, justifying his emotions every time he remembered how badly the memories made you cry.

It’d been three years, almost to the date since you’d been attacked, and all it took was a good look at the bottle in your hand and he knew exactly what was going on. He read the label over again. Flunitrazepam.

Rohypnol.

“Hey, baby,” Spencer whispered, morphing his tone into something that would suit the atmosphere. He watched your body language, the way your breathing hitched at the sound of your voice.

The despondent look in your eyes snapped into fear before you settled, your shoulders calming down slightly at the recognition that there wasn’t an enemy in front of you. It was Spencer.

Swallowing thickly, he reached out a hand and took the bottle. You tightened your grip on it, not wanting him to take it from you, “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he assured you, “I’m just gonna set this on the counter for you.”

Your grip slackened and he followed through on his promise, keeping a wary eye on you as you looked around the lab, staring at the floor as if it was entirely foreign to you, “I don’t remember sitting,” you muttered aimlessly, looking up at Spencer through your safety goggles. Spencer noticed the way your breathing quickened, “I didn’t— What time is it?”

He shook his head, trying to grab your hands before you pulled them into your lap, he settled for one hand on your knee, something to ground you, “It’s late,” he told you.

“I… I had a meeting with a professor in pharmacology. We were… he wanted to work with me on a project,” you placed your head in your hands, shaking your head like you had lost time. “He’d read my research on the dye they use in Rohypnol to make light-colored drinks turn blue, and wondered if we could find something to color dark liquids like cola.”

It was terrible, atrocious timing on the part of the pharmacist, but he didn’t know any better. Instead of telling you that, Spencer sat down on the floor in front of you, “Baby, do you remember what we talked about last week? Did you call your therapist?”

Nodding absently into your palms, you lifted your head and haphazardly pulled off your goggles, “I saw her today, she talked to me about the same thing you did.”

You and Spencer had an in-depth discussion about the anniversary effect. “It’s okay that you were triggered by a conversation that normally wouldn’t have had such a big impact on your day,” he told you gently, squeezing your knee comfortingly.

“Stop,” you responded, dropping your hand and looking back at him, you set your goggles on the floor and took a deep, trembling breath. “Spence, I can’t—” your voice broke off in a mess of gasps, and Spencer instinctively moved closer to you.

Gingerly, Spencer lifted your chin in hopes that it would open your airway and help your breathing, “I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he reassured you, taking your hands in his when you started anxiously scratching at your forearm. “I’m right here,” he murmured, “it’s me, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your hands as he comforted you, whispering sweet nothings to you as he waited patiently for your breathing to even out before speaking again.

“Do you need anything?” Spencer was silently offering you the same three options he always did: space, water, and medication. You had a prescription for hydroxyzine that you were supposed to take as needed, and when you very softly answered ‘pill’, Spencer let go of your hands to go get it from your backpack.

He pulled the bottle from the front pouch and grabbed your water bottle from where it sat in front of your computer, he dosed out one pill and handed it to you, watching you wash it down, closing your eyes, and leaning your head back. “How was work?” You asked.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer smoothed your hair back, “It was fine, we can talk about it later if you want. Right now, I’m focused on you,” he answered, avoiding your redirection.

You nodded in understanding, allowing Spencer to maneuver you when he helped you to your feet.

Spencer cupped your face in both of his hands, “Let’s get you home, huh? Have you eaten?” His brown eyes studied you now that they’d adjusted more to the dark, your under-eye circles looked more pronounced in the moonlight, and he wondered if you’d been sleeping. “I think there’s a bowl of soup with your name on it at home,” he whispered, taking your keys and locking the Rohypnol up in a cabinet.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel like that was a victory. “I’m okay,” you told him, some strength returning to your voice.

Spencer nodded, sweeping a lock of hair behind your ear, “Let’s get some food in you,” he reemphasizes. He kept your keys in his hand, you took the metro to work, so Spencer could just drive the both of you home. He looked back at the door, watching you as you slowly shut down the lab and gathered your things, “Hey, what’s your code to get into the labs?”

You frowned at him and shrugged, “1-0-2-8,” you told him, powering off your computer monitor and letting him help you pull your jacket on.

His movements faltered, and without a second thought, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You hummed in response, reciprocating the hug after taking a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispered, tenderly rubbing your back.

“I love you too,” you responded, finally relaxing into him. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologized, loosening your embrace so you could look at him.

He shook his head once, “it’s okay,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just, next time—well, hopefully there isn’t a next time—answer your phone,” he said, watching you. He’d continue to keep an eye on you, but you were strong. Spencer knew, just like the others, that this storm would eventually pass.

[g1ngerbeer]

percy and keyleth westruun conversation animatic

[video description: it's an uncolored sketch animatic of a scene from critical role campaign 1 episode 56, "hope." percy de rolo and keyleth discuss percy's decision to carve the history of westruun into a stone wall in the bunker under the city.

percy is kneeling in front of the wall. he asks keyleth, "how long do you live?"

keyleth steels herself before answering, "if i complete my journey, it could be upwards of a thousand years or more."

percy asks, "how long do you think i live?"

keyleth hesitates, then admits, "less than a hundred, if you're lucky."

but percy smiles at her as he gets to his feet and says, "no."

keyleth frowns bemusedly and asks him, "how long?"

he sighs heavily, turning to face her completely, and says with complete seriousness, "i am percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo the third."

amused by this, keyleth raises an eyebrow and replies, "no kidding!"

percy continues, "my ancestry dates back thousands of years, and will continue for thousands more." the scene cuts to a long hall of portraits. the shadow of a dragon's wings swoops over it and leaves everything in darkness, as percy adds, "unless whitestone falls." the scene cuts back to percy. he puts a hand over his chest and says, "i live as long as whitestone lives." a dark line appears behind his back, spiking jaggedly like a heartbeat monitor. the spikes grow into the outline of whitestone castle, then fade away again.

percy steps out from the wall to look out at the bunker, and keyleth follows. he says, "this place is the human soul. this is what we have built with our tiny moments." this sentence is over an aerial shot of the city. it cuts back to percy as he continues grimly, "to lose a place like this...we don't feel it immediately, but it would ruin everyone, in small ways."

keyleth reminds him, "not all of us are lucky enough to have a..." she thinks for a second, and continues with some humor, "lineage in a name."

with equal humor, percy counters, "not all of us are lucky enough to have a lineage in a lifespan."

keyleth smiles, then sobers as she places a hand on the carved wall, saying, "not many of us are lucky enough to have a lineage at all."

percy sighs, steps over to join her, and says, "which is why we save everyone we can."

keyleth concedes, "i guess that is one thing we can both agree on."

percy turns to look out at the bunker again. he tells keyleth, "this is good we do here. this is great good." this audio is over two shots of the people in the bunker, the survivors of westruun. there are children playing with grog and scanlan, adults moving furniture into their new shelter, pike healing a child's skinned knee, and vax talking to amelia. a child tugs on his parent's arm, pointing, and they hand him a piece of chalk.

percy continues, "and it is not about idolizing ourselves, it's about-" he crouches and picks up his carving tool. "-a very long story. which we are, even you, a tiny part of." keyleth looks surprised and moved at being included in this.

matt mercer narrates, "at this moment, you look down and notice that - while you guys were having this talk - a small child has walked up to the wall. and where percy has stopped the carving, the child has picked up a piece of wayward chalk that was on the ground, and has begun to draw little stick figures on the wall where you stopped. and in a little bit of the quiet, he stops and looks up over his shoulder at the two of you and smiles, and then just goes back to writing on the wall."

percy and keyleth watch the child fondly for a second. then percy smirks and says lightly to keyleth, "he'll outlive you, right there."

keyleth rolls her eyes and shrugs loosely. she says, "yeah, no, you're probably right,” and walks around to the child's other side. "look at him. i guess this little guy is, like, the moment encapsulated." as she says this, she throws her hands outwards, then shoves them close together in front of her. the child turns to look up at her. she leans down and pats him on the head. "hey, bud!"

the remaining audio is put over an end card that shows the child's finished chalk drawing. it's seven stick figures representing vox machina, and crooked text underneath that reads "thank you!" the audio consists of the critical role cast members saying in the child's voice, "that's an octopus! that's a shark. this is a flower. this a bear!" then taliesin says, "i give keyleth a little hug."

/end description]

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Dream of You (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: YES! Requested by @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Smut. so much smut.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

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Giggles and breathy laughter fills the room. Shared glances and touches of desire. You laid in Spike's arms satiated and content. Your body marked and sore. Nights like this were things if novellas and steamy dreams. Spike caressed your hair as he whispered how proud he was of how well you took him. You blushed and smiled. You wanted this to be forever. You wanted it to be real. You reach for his skin, but it's gone. You're left alone, again in your own bed.

You wake up aroused and moist, again. These dreams are a nightly recurrence, something of routine. Your desire for your dear friend Spike was getting out of hand. You wanted him not just on but inside you. However, you would be mortified if he found out. 

You get out of bed and go straight for a shower. On a lazier day you would play with yourself to meet some of those needs. Today you were in a hurry. It was your nightly date-ish with Spike. You would sit around his crypt and watch tv. You wanted to make sure you ran all your errands before nightfall.

Most of the day is spent running around town, getting things for tonight. You were sure to get all of Spike's favorites, including a couple of blood bags from the butcher. Before heading to the cemetery you decide to pop into The Magic Shop.

"I just need bone powder and it'll be done" Willow commented to Buffy. 

"I'd rather not grind out demon bones." Buffy responded. 

"No, silly. It's on the top shelf to your left."

Willow continued making her spell. She worked diligently to make sure all the ingredients and words were correct. 

"Hello, peeps. What it do?" Y/n walks into the store. 

The scoobies greet y/n as she walks up to Willow. 

"What are you up to?" Y/n asks Willow directly.

"Oh, a truth spell!"

"Who are we truthing?"

"Spike."

"Spike!" Your voice gets a pitch higher.

"Yep. Buffy thinks he's being dishonest, and she needs information from him."

"Don't you need his hair for that?"

Willow pulls out a small vial with blondish hair. "Got it." She grins. 

You look nervous but say nothing. You feel out of place, but you stay. You make sure to be helpful and calm. You didn't know why Spike being under a truth spell made you uncomfortable. You mulled over the ethics of what your friends were doing but instead you came up with an idea. If Willow casts the spell while you were with Spike you could ask him how he feels about you. You're quick to gather yourself and head out with a quick goodbye. 

You basically skip all the way to Spike's crypt.

As you enter the crypt you hear Spike running around downstairs. He hears the door and runs up to the main floor. 

"Don't close that door!" He yells

It was too late; you had shut the door. Spike looks frustrated. He sighs in exasperation. 

"What?" You ask.

"I've been trapped in here for 2 days the bloody door is stuck and only opens from the outside."

"Oh... uh oh." It dawns on you that you're now trapped with Spike. You feel giddy but scared. How long will it take for someone to bust in through that door. Worst, now you can't question Spike while he's under the truth spell. If he says he feels the same shenanigans can ensue, but if he says no than you're trapped here with your shame. 

You wring your hands nervously. Spike walks up to you unsure if to shake you or hug you. He notices the care basket you made for them.

"What's this?" He points to the basket. 

"Well, the plan was for us to watch trash tv and eat junk food. I even brought baggies of blood for you. But I guess our plan is to survive." You take a long look at the door. 

Spike palms his face in frustration. Of course, his planned "date" night with you would be ruined. Suddenly he perks up. If the door is shut for now that means you would have to stay with him, share his space... share his bed. 

He takes you by the hand and leads you to the couch he found in the dumpster. 

"Let's make the most of it." He grins. 

You nod and sit back. You spent the night watching tv and eating. It was 2am and your eyes were drooping. Spike noticed and turned off the tv. 

"You can take the bed." He mumbled as he walked you down to his room.

You're suddenly awake. His bed. You can share it. Wait... are you even ready for that intimacy. You risk it. 

"We can share. I trust you" you say cheeks burning red. 

Spike is chipper but downplays it. He assents and lets you lay down. 

"I'll be down in a bit." Spike tucks you in and scurries back to the couch.

You find it hard to fall asleep. Your heartbeat in your ears. You were sharing your crush's bed, and you were stuck with him. What is this a Wattpad story? Eventually, your eyes close and you're off to dreamland. 

Soft touches and passionate gazes. Bodies intertwined in lust and love. You breathe hard finding your sanity as Spike thrusts into you at a steady pace. Your eyes are rolled back into your head. Chest down, ass up, you were at his mercy. He grabs your hair keeping you in place. Your moans are lewd and loud. You feel yourself closer to the edge, closer to release. His hand finds your swollen bud and plays with it in circles. It makes you see stars. You're climbing, soaring, so close to your release. 

"Y/n"

You can’t speak.

"Y/n!" 

You awake in a startle. Your eyes adjust to see Spike over you. You pull the covers up to your chest as your brain adjusts and remembers where you're at. 

"Are you okay?" Spike asks

"Y- yes... why?" 

"You were mumblin' in your sleep. At some point you were yellin'. "

You blush ferociously. "Did I say anything?"

"Nah, love. I couldn’t make it out. 

You sigh in relief. He looks at you confused. 

"It was probably a bad dream" you mumble. You turn around and pretend to go back to sleep to avoid further questions. 

It's 4pm and you and Spike are wide awake and bored. You try to open the door to no luck. 

"Stop, pet. I already tried."

You sigh and turn to him. "What now?"

Spike walks to the couch and turns on the tv again. You give up, not knowing what to do, and sit by him. 

"Do you have any friends?" You ask

"No. Partners in crime, yes. Friends, no."

"Do you get bored of being a vampire?"

"No. I kill, I shag, and I sleep."

"Do you -" you're cut off

"Wha is this, 20 questions?" He turns to you annoyed. 

"I’m bored. Let's play a card game."

Spike obliges. He finds a deck of cards and you spent the next several hours playing cards in silence.

"I’m bored again." It was 8pm. 

"Let me ask you questions then." Spike grinned. 

You nodded, nervously. 

"Who was your first kiss?"

"Robert in third grade. Sloppy kisser."

"Cheeky."

"Who was your first love?"

"Jason in college. A real gentleman. Before you ask, we broke up because he developed a coke addiction."

"A real gentleman, indeed."

"Who's your last love?" Spike leaned in expectantly. 

You chuckled, nervous. "What? No question on who I lost my virginity to?" You tried to change the subject.

"It ain' Xander, is it?"

"I’m tired. More questions tomorrow, okay?"

Before he could respond you book it to Spike’s room. You lay down and close your eyes real tight in the hopes that Spike didn't trail after you. 

Dim lights and rustling. The scent of sex in the air. You're laid out, open and exposed. Spike is nowhere in sight. You feel slight pressure on your clit. You gasp as it increases. You look down to see a head of blonde hair. Your eyes widen as you notice what was happening. Spike's tongue played with your folds. He lavished your insides with his mouth. Your breath labored as you grabbed the sheets of the bed for dear life. He made sure to take his time. To memorize every crevice and nook you had to offer. He became drunk with your scent, your taste. You moaned his name like a Gregorian chant while he worshipped you. You felt your lower abdomen tighten as he lapped at your slit, rolling circles around it. You knew he would give you the best orgasm of your life and you were ready for it. You begged him for release. He prayed your juices would wash over his mouth so he could memorize your taste. You feel unstable, as if someone is shaking the bed. The movements becomes more prominent.

You wake up, groggy, disoriented. Spike, again staring down at you. 

"Love, are you okay? You were repeating my name over and over again."

"Um... I had a nightmare... about you...?"

"What about me?"

"Uhhh... You were being attacked... by a uh... demon! And I was scared for you." 

Spike is confused but takes your explanation as true. 

"What time is it?" You try to change the subject. 

"5pm."

You jump out of bed. "We gotta get out of here." You say for your sanity. 

Back at the Magic Shop Willow was ready to do her truth spell. All her ingredients in place and determination in her mind. Sadly, she had taken an extra ingredient in with all the others, a strand of your hair. As Willow works on the, unbeknownst to her, ruined spell Buffy beelined it to Spike's crypt. 

Back at the crypt only arguing can be heard. 

"You're acting weird." Spike accused.

"I’m just tired of being here!"

"So, you're tired o' me?"

"I didn't say that." You turn to him, exhausted and embarrassed. 

Pounding comes from the outside of the crypt. Buffy kicks down the door and goes straight for Spike. You're left standing there. 

"Where's the next big bad?" Buffy questioned Spike. 

"I already told you; I don't know." Spike looks helpless.

"You're lying. Why is the spell not working" Buffy shakes Spike. 

"What spell?" Spike asks.

"A truth spell for you." You chime in without your consent. 

Both Spike and Buffy look at you. Spike was surprised and Buffy annoyed. You were confused at your own statement. You didn't intend to tell the truth. 

Buffy punches Spike a couple of times before questioning him again. When she didn't get an answer, she dropped him and walked away furious. 

You just stand there until you remember your fight with Spike. You had to get out of there. 

"Oh, no you don't" Spike grabs your forearms. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I've been having sexual dreams about you." You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your free hand flies to your mouth. You mentally reprimand yourself. 

Spike takes in what you said. A grin painted on his face.

"You don't say, love. Out of curiosity, what are we doing in these sexual dreams" He leans in. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth starts moving. You tell him about the lewd and lustful acts you have dreamed about. You confess to waking up wet and pent up. You put yourself out there in display for him to ravage the carnage of your secrets. 

Spike's face hurts from smiling so wide. 

"Now tell me, why would you have these dreams about us?"

You try to bite your tongue but it's too late, "Cause I’m in love with you."

Spike wastes no time claiming your mouth. He memorizes how you taste, how soft your lips are, the way you closed your eyes to kiss him. 

"Ler me show you what I can really do." He whispers against your lips. 

He picks you up bridal style and walks you down to his bedroom. With care he places you on his bed. He climbs on top of you, kissing you as he settles between your legs. 

Impatient, you start tugging at his clothes trying to get them off. 

"Easy. All in its due time." He says. 

He trails kisses down you jaw to your neck, nipping on his way down. Carefully, he removes your shirt and your bra. You resist the urge to cover yourself from his prying eyes. His gaze is lustful, like a predator eyeing his prey. 

His mouth makes a path between you neck all the way to your breast. With great care he places his mouth on your left nipple, giving it the attention it deserved. With his right hand he massaged your right breast. All synchronous so as to stimulate you and prepare you for what’s coming next. He alternated between breasts, sending little jolts of pleasure through your body. 

With little haste he made his way to your abdomen and found his way to his prize. He nestled himself between your legs inhaling your scent. Without much wait he dived in, lapping at your folds, twisting his tongue on your clit, memorizing your taste. 

You gripped the bed sheets as hard as you could. Your back arching, reaching for him. Your body was alive and electric. He didn't slow down his assault, giving you no space for a deep breath. You moan and beg. You're at odds with yourself. You need release but want to savor the moment.

Spike is observant of the rise and fall of your chest. He tracks your moans and whimpers as he plays with speed and pressure. He has never been this hungry. He decided that he wants to have you wash over him. He wants your release. He inserts two fingers in you while still lapping at your clit. He chases your orgasm with his nimble hands and expert tongue. You swear that your soul is being exorcised out of your body as you crash and spill all over with your release. You're a whimpering, shaking mess. You gasp for air as you slowly land back in your body. 

As you look down you see Spike, still between your legs, grinning. Pleased but not satisfied, yet. You make a move to stand up, but he's on you faster than you can speak. He claims your mouth, inviting you to taste yourself on his lips. You're drunk on your own taste on his tongue. 

As you passionately make out, Spike makes quick work of his clothes. He's ready to claim you. You're giddy and pliant. 

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" He asks.

You nod, unable to form a single word. 

When he finally releases his erection from his pants you're surprised. How are you going to take all of him? He's so big and hard. Spike can read the uncertainty in your face. He cups your cheek gently and places his forehead against yours. 

"It'll be alright. If it's too much just tap me on the arm and I'll stop."

You nod again, determined. 

He teases your entrance and clit by rubbing the head of his cock back and forth. Slowly entering you every now and then but then retreating from your entrance, so as to prepare you for his size. Your whimpers fill the room. You want him so much. He can tell you're getting impatient, so he aligns himself and slowly enters you. He stays still, letting you acclimate to his size. Your breath is labored, you're almost delirious with pleasure. You can't believe this is happening. 

He slowly moves, rocking back and forth, giving you a rhythm to hold on to. You moan in tandem. Your eyes brimming in tears from the pleasure. 

"Look at you, taking me so well." Spike praises you. 

You give a lustful smile, too lost to register his words. 

He picks up the pace. Thrusting in and out, in and out. Giving you what you asked for. Giving you heaven on earth. You beg for him to go deeper. You needed him completely. Spike chuckles and thrusts harder. His movements are rough and long, giving you a chance to feel every vein and curvature on his cock. You push up against him with your hips, meeting his every thrust. He looks down at you, drunk on sex, admiring how beautiful you look out of breath and disheveled. 

He feels your legs shaking. He can tell you're close. 

"Are you gonna come for me, love? I want to hear you say my name. Remember who’s taking you.”

You can barely nod as you chase your orgasm, focusing on his movements. Taking him all into you. Memorizing how he feels and how he makes you feel. 

Your body ceases and you gasp as your orgasm crashes over you, like a tidal wave. Your veins are full of electricity. You’re seeing stars. You hold onto him while you repeat his name, over ad over again. Music to his ears. Spike holds you, never stopping his fierce thrusts. He wants you to remember who is claiming you.

"Good girl" he litters your face with kisses as you work to regain your breath. 

Spike never slows down, chasing his own high. Seeing you spent and tired knowing that he caused it makes him inch closer. He continues to thrust in you, sending aftershock ripples into you as he finds his own release. He fills you to the brim with his seed. He makes you his. 

You both stay connected. Breathing heavy. Satiated and in awe. He eventually pulls out of you with a little shiver. He lays down by your side pulling you close to him. You're both silly with pleasure, spent and happy. 

"Wow." Was all you could say.

"There's more where that came from. Rest up, because we have a lot of catching up to do."

You giggle, giddy for what your future with Spike holds. To think, all of these restless nights craving him and all you had to do was confess your love. You knew once the sun rises you’ll be tired and sore. Something that you’re looking forward to.

[sinofwriting]

Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

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A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

[i-love-ptv]

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like…☃️𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Pairing: Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Girlfriend!Reader

It’s exactly one week from Christmas, which means your boyfriend needs to partake in the holiday cheer.

Wc: 1,117

Pure fluff!! Rafe’s not a big fan of christmas, but it’s not his fault! :-( (when in doubt, blame w*rd cameron )

An: Hi chat, this is super rushed but I can’t seem to gaf 😭 also Rafe truly strikes me as the type to have an adorable looking dog w/ a DEVIOUS ass name. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Feedback is always appreciated and welcome! Tis the season hotties xoxo

“You’ve never tried eggnog before?” You muse.

“I didn’t say that; I had it maybe once when I was a kid and I hated it.” Rafe deadpans, though he finds amusement in your mischievous grin.

You squint your eyes at him, “Well, your taste buds change every seven years. So why don’t you take a sip?” Your hand reaches out towards his, offering him the glass, and he merely pushes it back towards you with his index finger.

“I’m not drinking that shit, Buttercup.” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that your boyfriend was scowling at the idea of drinking eggnog. You laugh at his expression, and the teasing doesn’t stop.

“Allow me to enlighten you, Mr.Cameron,” Rafe rolls his eyes at the formalities, but he hums in response, urging for you to continue.

“The delicacy of a beverage known as ‘eggnog’ is a pogue holiday custom. Which means, if you’re going to date the pogue princess, you need to pick up the culture.” You’re teasing him, but Rafe doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he finds himself feeling utterly enamored (per usual) at your means to include him into your traditions.

“Sounds great ‘n all—really babe..But I'm not interested.”

You huff and place the glass on the counter. “But Ray, it’s more than just it being a drink, it gives you the real Christmas spirit!” You’re beyond energetic when talking to him—literally jumping in place.

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday, despite your family issues, you’ve been a part of a family that provided adventures, love, and even a little bit of drama—not that you mind. The infamous group of pogues have been your safe haven since the five of you came together.

You didn’t go to a kook academy like Kie, so you’ve known JJ, Pope, and John B longer. But that doesn’t mean they’re your favorites. You and Kie have had this undeniable bond since day one; you know everything about her, and vice versa. In fact, she’s the one that introduced you to eggnog a few years ago, when she snuck downstairs to her parents’ Christmas party.

…Was the eggnog spiked with alcohol? Maybe. Did Kie also steal a few Jell-o shots too? Also maybe, but that’s besides the point.

Ever since you discovered your love for the festive drink, you immediately went to share your excitement with the rest of the pogues; which turned into a tradition.

The five of you would drink a glass of eggnog every day the week before christmas day; was that good for your stomachs? Absolutely not, but none of you cared.

Today’s the 18th, which means the tradition is officially in motion. The pogues are all doing their own things today, but you all vowed to follow through; so what better way to celebrate than to include Rafe?

After everything that went down in Morocco, Rafe’s been a bit kinder to your friends.

Keyword: a bit.

“I don’t want to get into the “Christmas Spirit”,” Rafe scrunches his face up and uses air quotes, interrupting you from your reminiscing. “I’m fine how I am, thank you.” You pout at this.

Your heart is in the right place; he feels his beating in his ears as you continue your pestering. But Rafe can’t seem to find joy in the holiday; there hasn’t been a real Christmas in the Cameron household since Rafe’s mother died. She was always so passionate about the entire winter season, and that light went right with her. There hasn’t been a year where Ward would even put up the decorations that collected dust in the attic unless it was for an event where other’s on the island would attend.

Ward hadn’t even attempted to do something when Wheezie begged him to, so the three Cameron siblings considered it a lost cause. You’ve been slowly but surely piecing Rafe back together, trying desperately to make him feel that happiness he felt when he was a boy.

Despite all of your teasing, you’re looking up at Rafe so lovingly, almost as if you can read him like a book. —He wouldn’t be surprised if you could; you know everything about him after all. Rafe’s attention wanders elsewhere as he hears pattering against the freshly-swept floors.

Your dog, Lucifer (Rafe decided that since you got the dog, he should be able to name it) walks on over and plants himself at your feet.

You squat down to be at his height, and Lucifer puts his two front paws on your shoulders. “I know, I know. Daddy should try the eggnog, huh Luc?” You coo at the dog, making his tail wag ferociously.

Rafe clicks his tongue and squats down as well, “Don’t let mom brainwash you, bud.” You squawk in disbelief.

“Crazy how you say that,” You squint your eyes at him before getting up and heading to the fridge. You pull out a plastic cup, and Lucifer, ever the curious, whines at your hand.

“C’mere baby, this is for you!” You baby-talk the golden haired dog, and he barks in return as you place the cup down on the floor. Rafe’s leaning on the counter now, and he barely gets a glimpse of the cup’s contents before Lucifer’s dives nose first into it, but he does nonetheless.

“There’s no way in hell you just gave our dog eggnog.” Rafe exclaims, running his hand over his shaven head.

“Actually,” you mock, “I spent an entire hour finding the perfect “dognog” recipe for our son. And from the looks of it, he enjoys it. Unlike his daddy.” You quirk a brow at the brunette.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rafe scoffs with a smile gracing his chapstick-covered lips.

“But you love me, right?” You drag out, leaning your body into his taller, lankier one.

“Damn right.” Rafe’s semi-smile turns into a smirk as he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses you.

You hum against his lips before breaking away, “y’love me enough to drink eggnog?” You question, and Rafe lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Not a chance, Buttercup.” He tickles your sides, making you back away from his hold. Rafe follows after you, but his onslaught is interrupted by a soft whine. You both look down, and you’re both met with the sight of the tipped over cup, and Lucifer looking back up at the pair of you.

You scratch behind the dog’s ears and press kisses to his face as Rafe rubs his head.

This may not have swayed Rafe into embracing the joy of Christmas, but you’re damn sure the boxes upon boxes of Christmas tree ornaments and decorations will.

[timewillpasssoon]

HELLO!!! Maybe in the second part there's some drama 🫣 Maybe a dating scandal with another person and Joost is heartbroken but Y/n is like No, I only like Joost!! And Y/n reaches out to him first and apologizes for all the drama and he asks her to come to one of his concerts??

LET ME THINK...

pairing . Joost Klein x fem-celeb! reader

content . fluff, reader is an actress, you are addressed as 'reader', reader is the same age as joost, fake social media screenshots,

summary . you announce that you are a huge fan of Joost Klein in an interview... and he sees it! He just so happens to be a huge fan as well.

word count . 1,9k words, 10,8k characters, 3 screenshots

author's note . guys i did it, i wrote part two. there will be a part 3 (maybe a part 4!!). the part 3 will include the dating drama...!!! ALSO ME AND KÄÄRIJÄ HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY, LETSGO

You honestly couldn't believe it. That your celebrity crush just said you were cute. That he's too shy to talk to you??? You found this out when you were in a Café.

Finn decided to take you out to a nice, but little Café. A nice outing with his “older sister”, he said.

You and Finn were chatting about recent drama you both recalled when your famous friend, Ella Purnell, suddenly FaceTimed you. As you answered, she said her quick hello and mentioned something about Joost responding to your interview. However, her words were muffled by background noise, and you only caught Joost's name. "What are you talking about?" you asked, a sense of panic rising within you, hoping it might just be a prank call.

Meanwhile Ella, between her hair and makeup session with her crew, urged you to check Twitter. "He responded to you... you'll be pretty happy to hear what he said," she exclaimed. With a mixture of dread and curiosity, you glanced at Finn before hurriedly opening Twitter to investigate. As you navigated to the trending section, your heart sank as you read the top headline: "JOOST REPLIED."

“Ah, shit.” Finn checks Twitter as well. His jaw slightly drops, probably an inch down. “He saw it?” Ella hums at Finn's question, “He probably saw the interview right as it dropped.” Finn nodded.

You freeze as you click on the button, two tweets on your screening both saying that Joost Klein responded to Reader Lastname. You clicked on the clip attached to one of the tweets. It was Joost in his iconic blue spiked-shouldered suit. Appie and Stunje are barely on screen.

The video starts on by Joost speaking, "well, I am honestly very flattered that someone beautiful as her would be interested in me."

He continues, "When I saw the interview, I froze! She is one of my favorite actresses. Reader is amazing at her job!" The interviewer chuckled, "Oh! Well maybe you should message her!"

"No, no! I am too embarrassed to make the first move...

“But she is very pretty.”

You were in a state of frenzy, alternating between giggling uncontrollably and wiping your sweat that was on your forehead. You were also kicking Finn's legs in excitement. "Will you stop doing that?" Finn chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. The video repeated, indicating that you watched the whole clip.

Both Ella and Finn witnessed your surprised expression. “Amazing, right? That means you have a chance!” Ella shouted, trying to make herself more audible over the commotion behind her. “I think I'm going to faint.”

Finn placed his hand on his own forehead, looking at the video one more time. Never before had you felt so embarrassed and dizzy in your life. “You should text him.” Finn smiles at his friend, placing his phone down on the table, lifting his fork. “You know what,”

You take a moment to think about it. Maybe you should make the first move. Well, you kind of had to, since Joost quote-ly wasn't.

“Alright, I'll text him-!” Ella and Finn cheered you on, “Atta girl!”

As you reached for your phone to check your contacts, a sudden realization washed over you.

"I don't have his number," you muttered, a sense of disappointment creeping in. Finn and Ella, who had been cheering you on moments before slowly, gradually fell silent. "Well, shit," Ella exclaimed, her tone reflecting a mix of frustration and disappointment.

She glanced away from her camera phone, redirecting her gaze to the mirror in front of her.

“You can't DM him on Instagram, he doesn't have them on.” You don't question how she knows that. Okay, maybe she might have tried to message him about you when the interview first dropped, but she couldn't.

“How am I going to contact him?” Finn raises his cup of coffee to his lips, “We have connections…?” Finn suggested a solution but you weren't listening because he explained it too fast, or maybe because it wasn't that good… Ella sighs fidgeting with her baby hairs, “We should ask around. To see if anyone is close to him.” Ella's suggestion was the best one out of the two.

She picked up her phone, you can hear Ella start typing, in search of finding friends that know friends that know friends that know Joost.

Finn unlocking his phone on his way to mass message all his contacts.

…

How long has it been?

It felt like an eternity, but in reality, only about twenty minutes had passed. All you wanted to do is talk to (maybe) your future boyfriend.

You got a message back from someone in your contacts.

The three of you have tons of connections that you just asked around if anyone had his number, and after what seems to feel like hours...

YOU GOT IT!

You got Joost Klein's number from mutual friends. Your old co-star is friends with a Greece singer who is also friends with this Finnish rapper named Käärijä.

And Käärijä is really close with Joost...!!!

You got Joost's number from Käärijä, “What should I say?” You asked Ella and Finn. Your palms were very sweaty, emphasis on very.

“A simple hi would be good.” Ella said smiling, you couldn't tell if she was making fun of you or not. “What if he finds it weird that I got his number through his friend?”

“How else would you get it? He's ‘too shy’ to make a move. You had to get it somehow.”

Finn finished taking the last sip of his coffee before saying that. He lifted his eyebrows indicating that you should agree with him. “You know he's right. His friend probably already told him that you have his number. What if he's waiting for you?” Ella teasing you to hit the send button of your text.

...

And she was right. Joost was pacing around his room as he got the news from Käärijä. That the most beautiful woman, Joost's words, is going to text him any minute now. “I don't think I'm ready.” He admitted aloud, the weight of anticipation and nerves settling heavily on his shoulders.

Joost has loved your movies and shows since your career started. You were a great actress and had an even greater personality from what he has seen online.

Also, when you revealed that you knew some Dutch in an interview… he loved you even more. “What!? Why… Do you not like her?”

Joost sighs and backtracks, “I do! I'm just nervous. How would I reply to her message?” Käärijä lets out an airy laugh. “I'm not sure… But you'll figure it out!!”

He was no help, thought Joost. He sighed when he heard Käärijä's advice. The two of you were a nervous wreck.

Käärijä spoke again after hearing Joost's depressed sigh, "I'll help you think of a response when she does text you."

“What if I mess this chance up with her?”

/

"What if he thinks I’m weird?"

The air was filled with worry. “I don’t know…” Finn rolled his eyes, telling you that if you don’t bag him now, someone else will.

You knew he was right, so you swallowed all your embarrassment.

“Maybe a simple explanation?” You ask your two friends before sending your text. “Yeah, whatever, just send it!” Ella couldn't wait anymore, rushing you to send the message already.

“Alright, alright!”

You typed out your message: “hey joost, it's reader! I got your number from a friend of yours. wanted to say hey and if you're down to talk ^^”

“Is that good? Oh god, maybe I should just say ‘hey’.” Ella rolls her eyes, slightly annoyed from your overthinking, “It's great. Don't overthink it,” Ella chuckles at a thought that popped in her head, “He's already getting you stressed out and you guys aren't even together yet.” Yet. That word made your stomach twist into several knots. You and Joost haven't had a proper conversation yet.

There were a lot of “yet”s in your thoughts. Finn snapped you out of them, saying, “Listen even if you mess this up, there are other fish in the sea, right? You don't even know him that well enough to be stressing this much.”

Was that advice the best? It was decent but he was also somewhat right!

“What great advice, Finn, be my therapist!” Ella makes a mockery at him just for a good laugh. She was successful on making you laugh quietly while staring at the now empty plate in front of you.

“Whatever, I'm always right.” Finn scoffs, tilting his head to the side. “If you don't want to text him you don't have to.” You look directly into his eyes, you weren't quite sure what to say. “Yeah but…

“I want to.”

You straighten your posture and click the send button. Your three letter message is sent within five seconds of you pressing the send button. “Did she actually do it!?”

Ella asks Finn, nodding yet she couldn't see, “Holy shit, she did it!” Finn cheered quietly for you. “You did it, Reader!” Ella claps her hands together, bringing her tied hands in front of where her heart would be.

“I feel better.” Ella smiles at your comment, “I'm glad you took the first step. I have to get going now! But text me when he responds! Cheers!” Ella quickly ends the call after you and Finn say your goodbye to her.

You smile at Finn, the knots in your stomach going away. “Want me to take a photo of you?” Finn asked as he unlocked his phone to go to the camera app. He swooped some of his hair, that was once in front of his forehead, behind his ears.

“Duh!" When he finished taking a photo of you in the green Café, you snapped a picture of him as well.

It was later in the day, around six pm from where you were currently located at, the nice cool air breezing through you and Finn. When you first sent your text to Joost, it was around ten am, making it seven pm in the Netherlands. It took him around ten minutes to respond to your first text. It was him reassuring you that he was down to chat.

The conversation lasted for a couple of hours, getting to know each other well enough within the four hours he had. The talk ended due to Joost having to go to bed, him being nine hours ahead of you was sure frustrating, you wanted to talk for a few more minutes but respected his goodbye. The rest of the day was traveling around with Finn.

You were in Finn's car, in a random semi-empty parking lot. A little takeout box on your lap. You were staring at the sky, having thoughts, little ones that weren't going to stick for a while.

Finn placed down his tiny bow on his lap as well. "What are you think about?" He snapped you out of your thoughts. "I think you know who I'm thinking about..." He smiled at you, nodding his head slowly as he looked away. "Should've known."

Finn sighed, "Just spit it out already!" He could tell something was bothering you, something that may involve a certain Dutch man. You shake your head. "It's nothing bad." You take a moment to yourself. "Just feel nervous."

You shifted in your seat, facing Finn that was in the driver's seat. "He's really nice, sweet, and just overall understanding! I know we only talked for, what- four hours? But he's pretty decent from what I had."

Finn looked away, knowing you were right. "I like him more than the others." Finn smirked at you, with cheekiness, "I did some research."

You sigh, you slightly open your mouth, the tip of your tongue touching your inner cheek. "Of course you did!"

taglist . . . @poppymelonz @grassclippers @catch1ngmoths @beansnsoup @f4n3tt3 @smiley-roos @welcometowonkas @hatsunimikuuu @haela-ttt @iamirish @berryxblue @ki-wiix @hsthbs @ihrtmusicsblog @arisja3701 @morrrospotted @casuallyeating @evonevenik @hiraethberry @yaxily45 @katlolsblog @1lovef1sblog @hockeybae @arysbruv @bl0om-star @bineeeee @gigilovescatsx @non-lo-so0 @lovely-nightstars @frikandllbroodje @lovingyeet @frenchgirlsblog

white means i can't tag.

[featherandferns]

day 9/24 - obx christmas countdown

‘But here we are tonight, drunk by the firelight’ - FINNEAS, Another Year | fluff-suggestive | jj maybank x fem!reader

“You know we have a couch, right? It’s, like, right behind you.”

You chuckle, not bothering to look away from the fire that you’re lounging in front of, laid on your side. “I’m warm.”

“You’re weird. Look like a dog,” JJ mutters. His toe prods your butt. 

“Quit your bitchin’ and come lie with me,” you reply. JJ doesn’t take much convincing. Sighing, he joins you on the blanket on the floor. His arm hooks over your waist as he moulds his body against yours. You smile as you feel him nuzzle his head against the back of your head. 

“So…Why the floor?”

“I like watching the fire,” you hum, staring in a daze at the flames in the fireplace. The red and amber lap like waves against the brick, smoke billowing up into the chimney. 

“Said like an arsonist,” JJ murmurs. You gently elbow him in the chest. He laughs. You smile. God, you could stay like this forever. 

The living room is dark save for the fire and the twinkling glow of Christmas tree lights. The red LEDs flash soothingly against the wall from the tree’s corner. Along the dusty mantle of the fireplace are stockings, one for each one of the Pogues, including yourself. Yours hangs close beside JJ’s, as if emulating the relationship the two of you share. The wine you’ve been sipping throughout the evening gives an enchanting fuzz to the evening; makes your mind buzzy in the nicest of ways, like a radio tuned into your favourite station. Your wine glass sits before you on the hardwood floor. JJ sighs contently against your skin. 

“This is pretty cozy,” he admits. 

“Knew you’d like it,” you say. “Where’s everyone at?”

“Pope and Cleo are at the Heyward’s place; Sarah and John B are out on some mushy-crap date, and Kie’s helping out at the Wreck. Apparently there’s some big Christmas dinner for some Kook bull-shit company happening tonight.”

“So…We’re home alone, huh?” you innocently wonder, smiling knowingly. 

JJ presses a kiss against the soft skin of your neck. “All alone.”

You snuggle back against him and reach for his hand, intertwining his fingers with your own. The room is quiet save for JJ’s steady breathing synchronising with your own, and the fire crackling in the background. Your eyes flit away from the fire to instead survey the tree. It’s decorated in a way that would make a showman want to cry: mismatching baubles hung without rhyme or reason; strings of beads and dried fruit; ribbons tethered randomly to certain branches; and a wonky star on top. But you’d decorated it as a family, the seven of you, drinking spiked eggnog and mulled cider, snacking on popcorn and peppermint candies. The memories entwined in the branches like the fairy lights make it mystifyingly beautiful. Your eyes hone in a certain ornament. It’s a ceramic baby Jesus, lying in his manger, the paint flaking and a chip missing by his nose. In your tipsy thoughts, you can’t help but wonder. 

“Do you believe Jesus Christ was born to save us?” you ask JJ. 

“Hell of a question.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know,” JJ says. You somehow know he isn’t done speaking. “I guess so. I mean, I believe he was born to guide us. Teach us and stuff.”

“Mm. I like that,” you smile. “I think that’s an awful lot of pressure for a baby; being told you’re here to save mankind.”

“Wasn’t he, like, a newborn? Don’t think he was told that from the get-go,” JJ thinks aloud. 

“He’s half-God, JJ. He probably had that thought inputted into him before he was put in Mary’s stomach.”

“Do you think he was ever sperm?”

“Ew!”

“I’m just saying!”

“JJ, that is so gross…and possibly blasphemous.”

“I’m a loyal disciple. That means I can’t be blasphemy-ey,” JJ argues. 

“Don’t think that’s how it works,” you snigger. JJ tickles at your sides and you squeal, kicking lightly at his legs. 

“Wanna say that again, oh Holy one?”

“Stop it! Stop it!” you giggle, squirming out of his hold. He lets up on the tickling but wraps his arm tighter around you, pulling you back against him with a laugh. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he rhetorically asks, lips ghosting by your ear. 

“I yearn for the flames,” you deadpan. JJ snorts. He presses a kiss to the lobe of your ear, then another to the sensitive skin just behind. Your eyes slip shut, grin melting into a satisfied smile. 

“Sure you do,” he mumbles between his kisses. His fingers massage at your stomach through your t-shirt. You become keenly aware of how close he is to you; every inch of skin of his that’s pressed to yours. It’s laughable how little effort it takes for him to rile you up. “My little freaky arsonist.”

“Says you,” you quip, conviction lost with your breath. One of your hands loops over his body, fingers looping through his hair as if urging him to stay close. His fingers slip under your shirt, the pads of his digits skimming over your tummy, toasty from the fire. 

“Mm,” JJ groans. His lips torture your neck, teeth nipping as if to tempt at breaking the skin, his tongue lapping over it after as if to soothe like an ointment. You sigh out, eyes slipping shut, body rocking back against him. God, you could stay like this forever. “You’re so warm.”

You let out a giggle as his fingers accidently tickle your sides, grazing past as he pulls your t-shirt up. JJ sniggers against your neck. The two of you are bewitched before the fire, painted in ruby red and mellow yellow. 

“So, so warm…”

Somewhere in the haze, your t-shirt is joined by JJ’s. They lie, tossed, at the bottom of the tree. You finally turn over to face him. His eyes are half-lidded, lips swollen and pink and wet, and you smile dopily at him. The kiss he plants to your lips is hot enough to battle the flames of the fire. It sparks you alight. Your hands cup at his face, paw at his throat, pulling him in closer and closer. He hooks a leg over your body and you roll onto your back. 

“So…” he murmurs against your lips. His teeth nip at your lower lip and he tugs just-so. Your eyes roll back into your head. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he finishes his sentence with a whisper. “Hot.”

[awriterinthenight]

"I Think You Look Good in Purple"-George Weasley

requested: anonymous

words: 1054

warnings: a prank, a small argument, reader legit hates life, a decent amount of swearing, not my best work, I wrote this last night, then finished it today cause I was tired last night, so its a bit disjointed I think, idk enjoy though

summary: When one of the Weasley pranks doesn't go as planned and they end up pranking the one Slytherin they like, especially George, George regrets.

Not all Slytherins were horrible, and you proved that. You were kind to first years, befriended muggle-borns, and were just a good person in general. When the twins pranked Slytherin they made sure to keep you out of it as best as possible. Since you weren't an asshole like the others, and also because George Weasley might've had a small crush on you.

The Weasley twins' latest prank didn't go exactly as planned. Their idea was to put a potion in some of the goblets, so that when the people drank it their hair would change to weird colours. They would only put it in some, so that way there would be more chaos when people would point fingers at those whose hair didn't change. The twins made sure to not put the potion in your general area so that you didn't end up with colored hair for weeks.

The only thing the twins didn't account for was you not sitting in your usual spot. So when suddenly during dinner half of the Slytherins turned every colour of the rainbow, and it included you, the twins knew you weren't going to be happy.

Your day was already really shitty so the sudden change in hair colour was unappreciated. The second you say the twins leave the Great Hall you immediately follow after them.

"This was you two, wasn't it," you said fuming, as the two stopped and turned to look at you.

Fred let out a small chuckle, while George stayed rather quiet, "It's just a simple prank. Besides, it'll come out in a couple weeks," Fred said, as if it was the most casual thing ever, which to him it was.

You were still annoyed by the two and their stupidity, "Do you two ever stop and think before you do something stupid," you yelled at them, "Matter of fact do you ever think." You didn't even let them respond before you stormed away, furious as the two redheads.

Fred seemed confused by why she was so angry, "Merlin, who spat in her pumpkin juice."

George finally spoke up, "Well we did technically spike her pumpkin juice. She's just angry at us, just give it some time and hopefully she'll be less angry," he defended, feeling bad for what he did.

The two left it at that and continued on with their day. You on the other hand were having the worst time ever. You had just practically bombed a potions test since who the fuck has all the ingredients for polyjuice potion memorized off the top of their head. Your friend had cancelled on your Hogsmeade trip the upcoming weekend, since their date was more important than the trip you had planned for two weeks, and now to make everything worse, you were stuck with purple hair for weeks.

You were hoping that maybe your luck would be better as your week went on. Apparently you were way too optimistic. While you were the least hated Slytherin, some Gryffindors still hated you just for being a Slytherin, so they were mean to you, calling you things like 'grape-head' which was just stupid, but you know Gryffindors. Some of the muggle-borns called you 'Barney the Dinosaur' behind your back, which you had to admit was a bit funny.

Even worse was that Snape had seemed to try to make you suffer even more by making you work on a potion all week while being partnered with Marcus Flint, who made you want to gouge out your eyes. School in general was also kicking your ass. It was as if every teacher forgot you had other classes. When you tried to get your work done in the library Peeves showed up, disorganizing every book.

By the end of the week you were ready to collapse. The worst was that almost no one noticed, except for your few close friends, but they didn't push much when you said you were fine. The only person to really notice was George Weasley.

He would try to make conversation with you, but you would ignore him, still angry from the dumb prank. He felt truly horrible, but you wouldn't give him the chance to apologise.

George waited outside your class so that he could try to finally apologise, "Hey, Y/N wait," he yelled out when you walked right by him. You continued to ignore him, being stubborn and not wanting to hear what he had to say, "Can you just hear me out for five minutes, please."

You stopped walking, finally giving into the little voice in your head telling you to stop being stubborn and talk to him, "Fine, one minute, make it quick."

"I'm so sorry for what happened. We didn't mean for it to affect you, I even tried to make sure it was nowhere near where you usually sat. I'm just really sorry, please don't hate me anymore," he explained, not wasting a second.

You had basically already forgiven him at this point, but the part about you hating him stuck out to him, "Hate you, why would I hate you?" you questioned him, since he could never make you hate him.

"I-I, umm..." George said stumbling, "I just, you seemed so angry I thought you hated me," he explained, a little bit quieter now.

You let out a breath, "I could never hate you George," you told him, fully meaning it, nothing could make you hate him, "I was just having a shitty day, and I've been having a lot recently."

A soft smile graced George's face at your words, "I'm glad you don't hate me, and I'm sorry about that. I noticed you didn't seem to be your friendly self as much, but maybe now that you don't hate me I can brighten up your day, and make it better," he joked, trying to make you smile, and being successful.

You shook your head at him, "Yeah, yeah, I'm still stuck with this purple hair, so you're not off the hook till it's gone," you said, crossing your arms.

"Well in my defence," George said, twisting a strand of your hair, "I think you look good in purple." You could feel your cheeks heat up and turn red. If you weren't already head over heels for George, you definitely were now. 

Current Taglist (ask to join, also this is for all fics and I write for a diverse amount of fandoms, just an fyi)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs

[bedoballoons]

Awe thank you!! I hope you're having a great night/day as well!! I've never written anything like this before so I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your request!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

{༻~Hes mine~༺}

CW: Fem! Reader! Readers friend tries to sleep with character, reader is described as normally being sweet and kind, cursing and slight simping on the characters part for their possessive girlfriend~

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer, and Freminet!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

"She doesn't have to know Lyney. It could just be our little secret~"

You felt your face heat up to your ears, anger spiking in your heart...you knew your best friend had their eyes on him for awhile now...but you never thought they'd actually try anything. You took a deep breath and threw open the door you'd been standing behind, making your friends almost jump out of their skin.

"Ah! H-hey bestie! How's it goin?"

You scowled at their voice, how dare they act like they hadn't been trying to get with Lyney just two seconds earlier. "How's it goin! IT WAS GOING REALLY NICE UNTIL YOU TRIED TO FUCK MY BOYFRIEND! HONESTLY ARE YOU SUCH A WHORE YOU HAVE TO TRY FOR EVERY GUY INCLUDING MINE?!?"

You stepped closer to them while Lyney shrunk back into the corner, his eyes wide with shock...and a light blush coating his cheeks. "Mon amou-"

"NOT RIGHT NOW LYNEY, IM CURRENTLY DEALING WITH THIS STUPID BITCH I USED TO CALL A FRIEND. ANSWER ME. DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO SLEEP WITH EVERY GUY YOU SEE? CANT KEEP IT IN YOUR FUCKING PANTS?"

"I...Im not a whore! You know if I had met him first, he would have picked me instead!"

"LEAVE RIGHT NOW. COME NEAR HIM AGAIN AND I WILL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! GET OUT OF NY FACE AND SUCK SOME OTHER GUYS DICK!" You pointed to the exit, glaring at them as they ran out. It took a couple minutes for the room to settle, your heart pounding in your ears...when suddenly it dawned on you that you'd just acted like that...in front of Lyney. You turned to look him, surprised to see he was staring right back at you with this glazed over look, "Lyney...sorry you had to-"

"Do not apologise mon amour, just now I'm forever yours~"

𑁍༄Tighnari:

"Tighnari, please. I promise I'll make it fun~"

You felt your heart sink, rage making your hands ball up into fists...you'd always been so nice to them, you considered them your best friend and the second your back was turned they stabbed you in it. You shook your head, pushing the door flat against the wall as the noise reverberated throughout the house, "Well, well, well, if iT ISNT THE ROYAL BACK STABBER THEMSELF. SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOUR LITTLE FLIRTING SESSION WITH MY BOYFRIEND! DID YOU REALLY THINK HED GO FOR YOU?!?"

You looked at them with a glint in your eyes that could send people scrambling for safety, unaware that Tighnari was right behind you...watching you with his tail wagging aggressively behind him.

"You weren't supposed to find out! It's not my fault you walked in! And yeah, he could have gone for me! Do you see how you're acting right now friend!"

"ME? ACTING UP? REALLY? YOU JUST FUCKING ASKED THE PERSON IM IN LOVE WITH, THE PERSON I TOLD YOU I LOVED, TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU! AND IM ACTING UP? NO FUCK YOU, YOURE A STUPID BITCH AND YOU NEED TO NEVER COME NEAR ME OR HIM AGAIN OR I SWEAR ILL MESS YOUR FACE UP SO BAD, EVEN HUMPTY THE FUCKING DUMPTY CAN'T PUT IT BACK TOGETHER!"

You felt tears well up in your eyes as they slowly walked away from you...all those memories down the drain...and Tighnari not far away probably considering you a horrible person by now. "Tigh-"

"I love you too."

"I- what..."

"I. Love. You. Too. More then I think I can really express..."

𑁍༄Xiao:

"Awe Xiao, don't just say no right away, I have so many things to offer. I can show you everything she couldn't even think of~"

You slumped against the wall, feeling like you were about to throw up...of all the things you expected to hear as you walked up to your date with your boyfriend...your best friend asking to sleep with him wasn't one of them. It was like being punched in the gut..., "Wow..didn't even wait to make sure I wasn't around huh..."

You could hear your friend gasp, their demeanor instantly changing, "I-i don't know what you're talking about. I w-wasn't doing anything. Isn't that right Xiao? It just sounded bad!" You pulled yourself away from the wall, your anger bubbling inside of you as you looked at Xiao. He seemed surprised for some reason and it only egged you on, "Well Xiao?"

"They were trying to get me to break my loyalty to you. I would never fall for such things though. My desires are for you only."

"Xiao!"

You smiled evilly at your friend as the shouted at him, "Well look at that. I only have a few things to say to you. TAKE YOUR HORNY ASS BACK TO THE WHORE HOUSE AND LOOK FOR SOME HOOKER LOW LIFE INSTEAD. HE'S MINE AND EVEN IF HE WASN'T, HE'D NEVER FALL FOR YOU UGLY SELF! GO! NOW!" If steam could shoot out of your ears it would have. You could forgive so many things, but that wasn't one of them.

"I...fine! I never liked you anyway!"

They ran out the door, leaving you feeling like you needed to punch the wall..., "How did I ever become friends with them....Xiao you oka- mph!" You blushed madly as he interrupted you with a kiss. His lips meeting yours as he pulled you close to him, you could feel his heart racing and the warmth radiating off of him. He wouldn't even let you pull away till you were gasping for air, "X-xiao?"

"I don't really understand this feeling...but I liked seeing you fight for me. It made me want to kiss you..."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"I could turn you into my own little brat baby boy, don't you want that~"

It felt like a switch flipped in your mind as those words left your friends mouth...your normally nice sweet personality gone cold and bitter. To think you'd taken the chance to friend this person..."Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the only one who can call him that is me. In fact, pretty sure since he's MY boyfriend you shouldn't even be trying to fuck him. That just isn't who you are is it."

"I wasn't going to-"

"Wanderer, hush." You stared daggers at your ex friend as they backed towards the exit, their hands shaking with fear. "Trembling are you? IS IT CAUSE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ME ANGRY? CAUSE HONESTLY, IVE NEVER FELT THIS MUCH RAGE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE SO CONGRATULATIONS FOR FINDING A WAY TO PISS ME OFF THAT BADLY. FUCK YOU!"

"Look just calm down, he said no anyway alright. I was just kidding! If I wanted to fuck him I would have by now!"

"WOW. YES YOU WERE DEFINITELY JOKING, IS THAT WHY YOU WERE TRYING TO PRESS UP AGAINST HIM?! IM NOT A IDIOT BUT CLEARLY YOU ARE. NEVER. TOUCH HIM. AGAIN! FUCK OFF!"

They slipped outside, leaving you alone with your breathing uneven and your face bright red. You were never one for yelling or cursing and in seconds someone you called a friend changed that...

"That was hot."

Your eyes shot open as you spun around. Wanderer was leaning against the wall, smirking at you under the brim of his hat, "I never would have guess my girlfriend could get so nasty. I'll only say this once, but I like seeing you loose your shit. Kinda a turn on~"

𑁍༄Freminet:

"Don't worry, I like when guys are shy in bed and she will never find out~"

"I-i said no. Leave me alone."

You bit your lip, listening to the fear in Freminets voice...the flirty tone in your friends. It was like some type of twisted joke, the ones that make your skin crawl...not only were they hurting you even though your were their best friend, but going after a taken guy who wasn't the best at defending himself in social altercations...that was a whole different kind of low.

"You should probably take the hint. He said no. That means no. He's not a cheater and he doesn't want you." You revealed yourself from your hiding spot, taking satisfaction in the suprise painted on your friends features. Did they really think they were going to get away with it...did they really think he'd sleep with them?

"How long have you been there?!"

"Long enough to see who you really are and I hope I never have to again. Neither of us want anything to do with you now. Take fucking flirty words and advances and go find someone just as terrible as you to sleep with instead!" You threw their bag at them, standing in front of Freminet protectively as they glared at you.

"It's fine, I didn't really want him anyway! You two can keep eachother!"

You watched them leave, your body shaking with anger..."How fucking dare they..."

"A-are you okay?"

You looked at Freminet, shocked to see him staring back at you with a blush that matched your own...he couldn't look at you in the eye..."Yes I'm alright...are you?"

"I-im better then alright. I feel very w-warm. Thank you for defending me...but even if you hadn't shown up, I never would have been with them. I...I only like you."

"I only like you too Freminet."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[ladypups]

Slasher’s reaction to their S/O being Goth🦇 || Slashers x fem! reader

꒰ ୨୧ Slashers include: Charles Lee Ray/Chucky, Tiffany Valentine, Freddy Krueger, Amanda Young

꒰ ୨୧ Warnings: hints of nsfw, no smut

—

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky: He absolutely loves you being goth, I mean adores it. He loves your style and the way you dress, he just doesn’t fully admit it. He hints at it, but never fully says it. He loves how mysterious you are, but also how gentle you are. When you guys first started dating, he would stay at your apartment a lot to hide from the cops. When he saw your apartment for the first time, he was intrigued. You being goth resulted in more affection and persuasion. If you have piercings (especially on your face/lips) he loves to feel them when you two make out. If you have long nails, he loves when they claw into his skin.

Tiffany Valentine: Very similar to Chucky, she just admits that she likes you being goth. You two love to share clothes and she loves seeing you in her outfits. She loves when you wear chokers, especially ones with spikes. If you have an interest in dolls, she is attracted to you even more. She loves to put makeup on you, and she’s let you pierce her a couple times. When you two first started going on dates, instead of her picking you up, or the other way around, she’d love to prep you and do your hair. She shows her love to you through actions. She loves you so much I can’t even explain it.

Freddy Krueger: You were walking through the halls of the boiler room when you first met. He appeared behind you and took a liking to your appearance. He liked your messy hair in that ponytail, he liked your piercings, your smeared makeup you forgot to take off the night prior, he immediately found a liking to you. He couldn’t kill you. One of his knives played with the bottom hem of your crop top.(imagine you’re wearing a crop top with a skull on it, and skull pajama pants) When you two officially started dating, he would get you little things he know you liked. He would either put them in the room he made for the two of you, or let you take them to the real world.

Amanda Young: You might’ve fell first, but she fell 10x HARDER. She loves to make things for you, it’s her love language. She’s made traps named after you, she’s made gifts for you. When she first made the pig mask, she let you put makeup and piercings on it. Actually for the robe she used some of your old clothes and sewed them together to make the robe. She’s just so adorable. She loves feeling your piercings when you kiss/touch her. She’s just a little hopeless romantic.

—————

tysm for reading! This is my first real Drabble and I think it turned out really well! If anyone wants to suggest anything feel free too!

[whimsicalwitchm]

So. I’ve been pretty into Buffy lately (not my first trip into this fandom, just the most recent) and the general consensus seems to be that, whether you like the character or not, no matter what you ship, Spike’s pretty hot. At least that certainly seems to be the case for the parts of the internet I’m on. (To be fair, I’m a spuffy shipper, so not unbiased)

Anyway, I’m going through some books I left at my parents house and found this one I must have picked up for cheap from a library sale back in high school.

A few pages in and, uh…

Apparently this was not always the case. Now, this was published in 2010, which might date me a bit, but I’m afraid to say, Miss Hooper, that there are very large parts of the internet who would definitely disagree with you now!

I did have a bit of a giggle when I read this, especially since it came after a section describing hot vampires from pop culture, including Angel and Edward from the twilight movies. The whole book’s just a bit of fun, really, but come on - as far as the idea of dating a vampire goes, I would definitely not call Spike a turn off!

[thepigeonhasapen]

⚔️SFW A-Z: Ares⚔️

Did Dio already, so here's one for our favorite little sadist! Also I accidentally posted this one before it was finished so if you saw it then, no you didn't <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ares is somewhat reserved with his touch. He is quite touchy, but in that standoffish, no-homo kind of way if you know what I mean. Clasping arms. Putting his hand on your shoulder. Ares's touches are brief but meaningful. He actually likes physical affection a lot more than he lets on, but he has trouble initiating it. Considering how many people on Olympus find him weird and off-putting, I feel like Ares is EXTREMELY touch-starved and really just wants to be held, but doesn't quite know who or how to ask for it. Would probably melt if somebody hugged him from behind.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

In order to befriend Ares, you'll have to share at least one of his niche interests. Be that violence, weaponry, or warfare, Ares just wants someone to talk to about the things he's into. Full warning, he will be extremely overbearing because well... not a lot of people like him. Even less people like discussing the things included in his domain. As a friend, Ares tends to have trouble being um, what's the word? Normal. Someone messes with you? Ares has already cut off their head and is finding a nice spike to put it on. Something you have to do? No, wrong. It's hang out with Ares time. Tends to be almost yandere-like in his affections, born in part from his small pool of friends. You can see how frequently he expresses the desire to meet new characters if they come up in conversation. It may take an explosion of violence to draw Ares's attention, but all it takes is any degree of interest to draw his obsession. He just wants companionship, okay? He doesn't have enough friends that he can afford to lose any. Don't leave him. :(

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I don't care what anyone else says, Ares is a little spoon. HOLD HIM. Also fond of having you lie on his chest so he can stroke your hair. Secretly loves to cuddle but won't ask for it. If he wants a cuddle, he'll get extremely touchy, his hands somehow finding their way to your waist or shoulders. If he's not touching you, he's hovering over you. Just hug the man already!

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes and no. I feel like Ares would want to be a father and engage in cute little domestic activities, but he's also not dropping his day job as the literal embodiment of war. I hope he at least remembers to wash the blood off himself before he hugs his kids. Ares is good at cooking but he doesn't do it all that often because he has little interest in eating. However, he will usually make the food himself for dates and such. Lifehack: weaponize his need for love. Praise his food and he'll make you dinner every day. You won't even have to worry about the mess either because Ares is very fussy about cleaning up after himself. This usually pertains mostly to his weaponry, but anything else he happens to be doing is also included.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Ares won't. His passions don't burn out. Ever. Once you've got his attention, you've got it forever, so I hope you've properly considered the ramifications of that before you started talking to him. On a semi-related note, I feel like he's especially prone to toxic and codependent relationships because his family situation was shit so he doesn't know what healthy love looks like his biggest draw in relationships is extreme passions.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It takes Ares a long time to trust fully, but once he's fallen in love, he's commited. He wants you. He wants you forever. Unlike most of the other Olympians, he actually prefers a monogamous commitment. Wouldn't advise cheating on him. You'll break his heart. Also he'll kill you. (The exception is Aphrodite. According to Ares, you are both allowed to sleep with Aphrodite. Because Aphrodite. Obviously.)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He tries, he tries, oh how he tries. Ares does his best to be a polite gentleman and be careful with the ones he loves. But he is still the god of war and a love for aggression and violence comes with the territory. Often he gets strong urges to be rough and sometimes he can't stop himself. He'll bite when you kiss him. Dig his nails into your skin in the heat of passion. He doesn't mean to hurt you. Well, he does, but he's sorry about it. He kisses your wounds in apology, licking up whatever blood he's spilled. Ares wants to be gentle with you but by his very nature he craves roughness. He doesn't even care if it's him in control. He'd love it if you'd bite him back, shove him, hit him. But he'll try to keep his lust for violence away from you and on the battlefield unless you give him explicit permission otherwise.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I firmly believe that Ares has never been hugged in his life. Zeus can't be bothered and Hera is emotionally distant. Dionysus hangs off of him sometimes but to be honest it's just intended to get on Ares's nerves. Aphrodite cuddles, but it's either a post-coital thing or very sexually charged. Nobody hugs Ares just to hug him. And I feel like he'd short-circuit if anyone ever did. In theory, he understands the concept of a hug and what to do with his limbs during one. In practice, he is internally freaking out. Despite the fact that Ares doesn't have a lot of experience hugging, he actually gives great hugs. After the initial shock is over, he just kinda melts into you, holding you so tightly as if he'd rather die than let you go. Always has one hand at the back of your head, gently guiding your face into the crook of his shoulder.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Because many people are put off by him, Ares is cautious when he gets to know people. Sure, you'll know about his love for bloodshed upon your first interaction with him, but the deeper stuff, like how he feels about his family? It takes a very long time for Ares to open up enough to trust others with his innermost thoughts. When he starts lamenting about how he wishes his kin liked him more, you'll know he adores you. Ares is quite lavish and open with his praise so he'll tell you he loves you quite frequently once he gets to that point. Never absently or off-hand though. Anytime Ares says it, he says it passionately, looking into your eyes or clasping your hands so that you know he truly means it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ares is extremely possessive but the degree to which he is depends on your mortality. If you're mortal, well, suffice to say that flirting with you is now a death sentence. If you're a god, Ares tends to treat you as more of equal and less of a possession. More understanding about the distribution of your time. Unlikely to kill your followers. Still gets possessive, but can be convinced to back off easier. Maybe soothe his ego by telling him how strong and handsome and dedicated he is. You know, before he loses his temper and starts a war on purpose because his pookiebear didn't pay enough attention to him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Like everything else Ares does, passionate. A hand is at the curve of your jaw, another at the small of your back keeping you pressed to him. Not sloppy or messy, but definitely intense. Ares kisses like he means it. Occasionally gets too caught up in the moment and nips you hard enough to draw blood, but he'll apologize by licking it up. Goes most often for the neck and the lips, but also HUGELY into body worship and will spend hours planting kisses on every inch of your body if you'll let him.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like Ares would fucking love to be a father. He can teach them manners, he can play with them, he can show them the best places to display the severed heads of their enemies, all that good shit. Ares would be a devoted, doting father, if a little prone to sending his children down a violent life path. Has very little experience with children though because literally no one wants the crazy guy with a love of warfare and a spark of madness in his eyes babysitting their youth. I wonder why.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Ares doesn't usually sleep. He doesn't need to and he'd honestly rather spend his time doing something else. Rest is few and far between for Ares, but if you insist, he'll spend his nights in bed with you. Still, no matter what time you wake up, Ares is up before you and has already made/procured breakfast. Even if he has something to do that day, he's left you food and a sweet note. However, he tries not to have responsibilities in the morning because he loves spending those soft moments with you. Because he has very little interest in food, he mostly just spends the morning watching you eat. Your choice on whether you find that creepy or cute.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Ares spends his evenings tending to the tools of his trade. He cleans his weapons and armor. Makes sure everything is in its proper place. Probably does a bit of general tidying before he joins you in bed. Often prefers to be in his own head then to sleep, so he'll pretty much always fall asleep after you, if he sleeps at all. He's a very light sleeper so any movement at all will disturb him, which is wonderful if you have nightmares. Less wonderful if you're an insomniac or a restless sleeper. To be perfectly honest, Ares doesn't mind being woken up though. He's not that big on sleeping anyway.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Like I said, Ares is cautious with his emotions. It'll take a long time to get him to open up about the really deep stuff. Can however be hurried along slightly if you open up to him first.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's a Greek god. Asking if he's touchy is like asking if otters enjoy swimming. Ares is a massively petty bitch. Not quite as petty as Zeus or Aphrodite, but, man, he's up there. He doesn't usually hold grudges, but he will respond to perceived slights WAY out of proportion. Forget about date night? Oh, don't worry. Ares has slaughtered your entire family so you can get a better grasp on your priorities. Ares, babe. What the fuck is wrong with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Everything. All of it. Ares knows your favorite food. Your favorite breed of dog. Your favorite god damn shade of green. Ares hangs off your every word and remembers every one of your little quirks.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Ares can't pick just one. He loves every second you spend together and cherishes them all deeply. Although, he does find himself often thinking of the first time you showed an interest in his weapons. He's quite possessive over his personal tools and generally dislikes if you touch them, but he adores when you sit with him while he tends to them. He'll tell you stories about fights he won (or lost) with them. He'd love it even more if you sparred with him or if you let him teach you how to use one of them. There's nothing he'd like more than to fight at your side. This is meant to be SFW so I won't go too into detail about how Ares feels when he sees you battle-drunk and dripping with the blood of your foes, but suffice to say he's having issues taking his eyes off you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

EXTREMELY. Anybody hurts you? Bitch, give him a NAME. You know what, a country even. Ares will quite simply destroy anyone who even shows you the slightest disrespect. Fuck, he'll probably massacre the whole township just for good measure. If one of the other gods are threatening you or doing something you're not comfortable with (*cough cough* Zeus, Poseidon), Ares will be a little more subtle but he is definitely having A Word with them. The kind of word where, behind his polite smile, you can tell that Ares is flat-out threatening the person he's speaking too. While some of the older gods probably could beat him, it wouldn't be without great personal loss, so pretty much everyone would rather drop it than actively piss off Ares. Alternately, he'd find it sweet if you tried to protect him. Whether that be parrying a blow aimed at him on the battlefield or standing up for him to his family, Ares finds it deeply charming, even if he really doesn't need the help. However, will be absolutely LIVID if you put yourself in danger for his sake. It's the one and only time he may actually raise his voice and shout at you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Lots and lots. All of it. All of the effort. Ares is a very gentlemanly type when it comes to dates. He always brings you flowers and has a fancy meal waiting, probably under the stars because he just is that Extra. He tends to remember everything about you and so each of his gifts are sweet and thoughtful. He generally always remembers your anniversaries, unless there's an especially huge war going on and he's busy being hyperfixated on that. Will absolutely go above and beyond to make it up to you though if he forgets. Overall, just very thoughtful and high-effort.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Tends to get ADHD style hyperfixations about war and violence and gore. A new conflict has started? Ares literally will not shut up about it. Someone invented a new torture implement? Ares is lowkey begging for you to play with it with him. Come do torture with him! As a date! Or maybe you can torture each other?? Ares is down for that too! Unfortunately Ares has a tendency not to notice (or maybe care) that he's making people uncomfortable unless they flat out say something so he may accidentally bulldoze across your boundaries over how much you actually want to hear about violence. Also, he values blood family above all else and will have a tendency to meddle in yours if you have a difficult/unpleasant familial situation. I don't think you can ever cure him of it either (not without a fuckton of therapy anyway) so you're just going to have to deal with his "family is important" speeches until the end of time. He won't force you to talk to them but you can tell he definitely disapproves. (He gets that trait from Zeus btw)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is a vain little peacock of a man, he just doesn't want anyone to think he is. Like, look at his stance. All the other gods look like they're having a casual conversation with Zagreus or were in the middle of doing something when they started talking to him. Ares has his helmet under one arm, meaning he was either literally just wearing it and took it off to talk or he picked it up to have this conversation. I'm inclined to believe the latter because he's also pretty boldly brandishing his sword in a way that literally nobody would hold it unless they were posing for a photo. The only other two holding themselves this way is Zeus who despite literally being a god manages to have a god complex on top of that, and Aphrodite who is definitely trying to flirt with Zagreus given some of her voice lines. Also have you seen his eyes? There is no way that bitch is not wearing mascara. Not to say Ares isn't up for getting dirty or bloody, but my guy is a fuck of a lot more vain than he wants anyone to find out about.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Despite his deep passions, I feel like Ares would in fact be able to get over you. He'll vent out his emotions by starting a few wars, but he'll be fine. I mean, he's never going to not be in your life, but he's alright with just being friends and admiring you from afar if that is as you so desire. (Assuming it was a clean break-up and he didn't like kill you because you cheated on him or lied to him.) If you're mortal and something killed you, you can bet your ass he's paying a visit to Hades and politely requesting if he wouldn't mind making an exception. Look, if Dionysus of all people can march down there and get his mom back, Ares can certainly get you back. (As an aside I do like to imagine that all the stories throughout greek mythology of people visiting the Underworld actually did happen in canon, Hades has just absolutely forbidden anyone upon pain of eternal torture in Tartarus from speaking of them.)

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Ares is secretly really into animals, especially birds. The Wiki says the bird on his breastplate is a raven, but I'm actually pretty sure it's meant to be a vulture given his historical connection with them. He definitely has a few pet vultures kicking about back on Olympus. And, when he and Athena were kids, they used to bond over their shared love of owls and had a little aviary where they trained them. They actually had a falling out over it because Ares's owl liked Athena better. He's over it now. Mostly. He's still a little bitter to be honest.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

A holier-than-thou attitude is something that really gets under Ares's skin. It just makes him want to put them in a situation with no good options and see how they deal with it. Ares, my sweet, has anyone ever told you that you're a mite sadistic? He also has absolutely no patience for abusers and rapists, which would usually go without saying but considering the other Olympians' track record... yeah. (Looking at you again Zeus and Poseidon.) The funny thing is that he likely will not notice or even care if he himself is in an abusive relationship even if it's explicitly pointed out to him. Get him to love you and you've got him wrapped around your finger. Poor Ares is just so starved for affection.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Ares doesn't like sleeping. He gets bored. He's got better stuff to be doing. Also I imagine that Zeus was not exactly a great parent, especially to Ares who is pretty clearly not his favorite child. Typical misguided "hitting my children will make them be better" kind of father, especially with Ares and his quote unquote weird interests. Ares definitely has some sort of trauma from this and gets really bad nightmares if he falls too deeply asleep, which is why he will often just doze or straight up not sleep at all. Somebody please call Hypnos and give this man a decent night's rest, I am begging you.

[probably-writing-x]

Fragmented

Summary: could you write one an ant from hbh x reader where the readers bee best friends with spider and dusty for years and is dating ant but she gets roofied and they get protective? only if your comfortable tho im just a sucker for hurt/comfort!!

Warnings: Discussions and descriptions of spiking / drugs (support for these issues is linked at the bottom), swearing, mentions of assault / potential assault, alcohol use, panic attacks and discussions of anxiety

Word Count: 3.6k

“There she is!” Ant grins as soon as you walk through the door, his entire being seeming to light up in your presence.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” You smile as you walk into Dusty’s room.

Ant is laying across the bed with Dusty and Spider sat on the edge of the bed playing COD zombies together. Neither of them turn around.

“And hello to you too,” You roll your eyes, closing the bedroom door behind you and walking over to Ant.

“Sorry, hi,” Dusty says quickly, “We’ve just got to-“

His words trail off again as they focus back onto the game.

You look over and Ant stretches his arms out for you, waiting for you to crawl into the space there. He relaxes as soon as you’re in his arms, sinking into the contact as you lay back against his chest, his legs on either side of you. His arms wrap around your waist and his head buries into your neck, kissing the exposed skin there.

“(Y/n) there’s beer in the mini fridge,” Spider mentions, the two of them still directly focused on the screen in front of them.

“They’ve been playing for at least an hour,” Ant mumbles into your ear, kissing you again.

You hum against the contact, “You’re not allowed to play?”

He laughs, “I’m too good for them.”

You’d been friends with all of the boys since kindergarten. Your Dad had enrolled you into a soccer team and you, at the time, were the only girl on the team. At that age, it didn’t seem to matter. All of you stumbled over the ball, scored into tiny fake nets and only played about fifteen minutes before you got bored. You’d then all gone to school together and, really, it felt like you’d been inseparable ever since.

It was two years ago when that had turned into something more between you and Ant. He’d always been the one you were closest to. He was the one, at first, that had always included you in everything. And he was the first one to defend you when someone was rude to you. He made you laugh more than the other two did, as if his humour could be tailored to you. When you were 14, you’d been camping at the lake with the boys. Ant was sharing a tent with you and he’d kissed you. He was nervous and scared and he didn’t know what to do with his hands but it was adorable. He’d got much better at kissing since then. Much better. Spider and Dusty had been weird about it at first - they’d said it would make things awkward and that it would be even worse if things didn’t work out. But then it just… did. You fit together, they realised it as much as you did. And, despite you two being young, nobody really saw this ending any time soon.

“Fucking hell,” Spider grumbles, tossing his controller back onto the mattress.

“Is it over?” You laugh, running your fingertips over Ant’s arms around your torso.

“Yeah Dusty fucked it,” Spider rolls his eyes, “You’ve still got the high score.”

You shrug, “What can I say? I’m just better than all of you.”

“Fuck off we taught you how to play!” Dusty kicks your leg gently.

Ant rests his chin on top of your shoulder, kissing your cheek, “Can’t we just stay here tonight?”

“No, no, no, come on,” You push up from his chest, “We said we’d go.”

“Yeah everybody’s going,” Spider points out, standing up from the bed too, “Plus, we’re already late.”

Ant groans and flops his head back against the pillow below him, “Okay I need to drink.”

———

The party’s happening in a warehouse downtown. You weren’t really sure how you’d ended up here, but Spider had overheard it from someone at school and got you all invited. There was music blaring from speakers and people you didn’t recognise and a million bodies moving around one expansive dance floor.

Ant places a hand on your back, smoothing his fingers over the material of your top. He liked being near to you. He was sure holding you could make him feel better about anything.

“Should we get a drink?” Dusty yells over the music and the boys agree.

All four of you walk over towards one side of the room and fill up cups from the kegs stacked up on one side. Spider makes a comment about how dirty the cups probably were and for a moment you question if it’s even worth having one. But you pour yourself a cup anyway, taking a sip of the lukewarm beer.

“I’m just going to go say hi to the girls,” You lean into Ant, “Are you guys staying here?”

“Yeah yeah we’ll be about,” He nods, bobbing his head to the beat of whatever song was playing.

“Alright, I won’t be long,” You squeeze his hand and walk off towards where you could see Amerie and Harper on the other side of the room.

—

That was the last time Ant had seen you before it happened. He watched you as you walked away, he always did. And he watched as you hugged Amerie and Harper in turn, before he turned back to the boys and made a comment about trying to find each of them a wife. He’d finished what was left of his cup and then poured out another one and knocked back half of that.

Dusty said they should go towards the crowd and Ant had looked back to make sure you were still within his eye line. You were with the girls, laughing about something one of them had said. And so he’d followed behind the boys into the crowd, just enough on the edge that you’d be able to see them when you came back. He didn’t think anything of it really. Everyone that you knew was here, plus another few hundred that you didn’t. It was all people your own age, all underage and worried about getting caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. It was a harmless party.

He only started to worry when it had been a while since he’d seen you. Ant looked back over to where the girls had been stood but he couldn’t see any of you anymore. He’d glanced over towards the drinks, hoping to see you there, but you were nowhere to be seen. Maybe you’d gone to the toilet. He couldn’t see enough through the crowd to be able to figure it out.

“Guys should we go look for (Y/n)?” He’d turned around to the boys.

Spider looked at him with a frown, “She’s not answered your text?”

“No,” Ant shakes his head, shouting over the music.

“What if she comes back here and can’t find us?” Dusty returns.

They all worried about you, always. Not only did your boyfriend, but the other two treated you like a little sister. They were always going to worry.

Before they have a chance to worry any longer, Harper comes pushing through the crowd for them. She’s flustered and out of breath and her eyes are burning with panic.

“It’s (Y/n).”

Ant felt his stomach drop, his entire body go into overdrive at the thought of what could have happened.

Spider grasps his shoulder and it forces him through the crowd, the boys hurrying after Harper who leads them through.

They end up outside, the breeze hitting them as Amerie crouches beside you at the side of the road.

“What’s happened?” Dusty speaks first as Ant rushes to your side.

Your hair is disheveled and your mascara has run and your whole body is shaking.

“She just got like really drunk out of nowhere,” Amerie explains, “We thought she’d just drank too much but it all happened so fast. Like twenty minutes and she was just gone.”

“She had one drink,” Spider mentions, “I mean, we had a beer at the house. But one drink here.”

“What the fuck was in that drink?” Harper shakes her head, “This is fucked up.”

Ant let you fall into him, his arm propping you up against his side as you mumbled incoherently. He knew you couldn’t see straight, from the way your eyes looked darker and uncertain. You were holding onto his shirt and your entire body felt like it could crumble in front of him.

“We need to call somebody or get help or something,” Dusty encourages, “She could’ve been spiked.”

“Who the fuck would do that?” Amerie exclaims, “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

They all look between each other, the panic bouncing in the air between them all as Ant holds you like you’re seconds away from disappearing.

———

Your entire body feels heavy and trapped when you wake up, like your mind is waking up before your limbs do. Crisp white lights, rhythmic beating, wires and tubes, the distant hum of conversations you couldn’t make any sense of.

You felt sick and hungry and tired and thirsty and yet felt nothing all at the same time. And you were alone.

“Alright alright shhhhhh.”

You’d know that voice anywhere.

“She needs to-“ It cuts off instantly as soon as he sees you, “Wait she’s awake!”

“She?” You croak out, your words hoarse and painful.

“(Y/n),” Ant half-laughs, breathing out a sigh of relief into the sound of your name.

Like the sight of you had made half of his worries float away almost instantly. Your eyes, now semi-adjusted to the light, catch the sight of all three boys making their way back into the room. Dusty’s carrying food bundled into his arms and Spider’s got a balloon and Ant’s carrying the biggest teddy bear he could manage.

“This was the only balloon they had,” Spider grimaces, tying the string to the barrier on one side of the hospital bed.

You catch a glimpse of it, a pink foil heart shaped helium balloon covered in the words ‘it’s a girl’.

“And we got you your favourite snacks, or at least everything that the hospital shop had,” Dusty explains, dumping them down onto the tray table at your bedside.

Ant still hasn’t spoken, like he just needed to see you to make himself feel okay. Like he just needed to know you were here.

“Wh-“ You cough out, pushing yourself up to sit up a bit more in the bed, “What happened?”

“You-“ The boys all look between each other, like a silent conversation, before they all take up spots on either side of the bed.

Spider and Dusty on one side and Ant on the other. Ant takes your hand in his.

“You were-“ Ant takes a deep breath, “We think you were spiked last night, at the party.”

You feel your body freeze like the words have invoked a shock response, trying to rack your tired brain for any sign of memory from the night before. Nothing.

“The girls were with you, Am and Harper,” Spider mentions, “They think it might’ve happened before you went to the toilet.”

“You just got very bad very quickly, and they knew something was wrong. You fell over and cut yourself up a bit and they took you outside and that’s when they came to find us,” Dusty continues, his brows furrowing in their concern.

“You couldn’t really talk, you couldn’t stand, so we called the ambulance and they decided to bring you in,” Spider adds, “We all got questioned last night but we couldn’t really help, we just kept telling them we didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“I don’t-“ Your voice is shaky this time, and you realise how quickly your heart was beating, “I don’t remember any-“

Your bottom lip quivers, your hands starting to tremble.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ant speaks so softly, his arm wrapping around you to pull you into his side, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“The doctor told us that you might not remember a lot of it. It’s one of the side effects, she told us it’s like being the most drunk you’ve been, but just a lot worse,” Spider explains, reaching out a hand to squeeze your knee.

You look around at the three of them, faces all full of worry. They were all sleep deprived, dark circles under their eyes, same clothes as last night, surviving off of the adrenaline and worry they’d had since the moment they’d seen you outside. You knew you were okay, the girls had stayed with you, the boys had found you, the boys were here now. And yet a thousand thoughts circled through your brain of what could have been. Of what happened without you knowing. Of what would have happened had you been alone.

You feel the sickness boil in your stomach, churning over with every fearful thought.

“(Y/n)?” It’s Spider’s voice, “You with us?”

You blink away the blur from your eyes and force a small smile, “Yeah, yeah.”

———

You’re back at school the following week. And everybody is already talking about the weekend. Ant holds your hand as you walk into school, his fingers laced with yours and his shoulder bumping yours with every step he takes. You can see people looking at you, people pointing out the cut on your cheek or weighing up how bad they thought you looked.

“Hey, the guys are already in class,” He mentions, nudging your shoulder as the two of you divert towards class.

You’d been with him all weekend, he’d stayed at yours and done everything for you. He’d made you food, brought you tea, checked on you every ten minutes, let you watch your favourite films. He was determined to make sure you were okay and, on surface level, you were. You weren’t feeling sick anymore, your headache had eased, your muscles didn’t feel as weak, even the injuries from that night had started to heal. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. And for every time you told Ant you were okay, you felt like you were lying to him just a little bit.

“Thank god you’re here!” Dusty exclaims as soon as the two of you walk in, “I need you to back me up on this one.”

“What’s going on?” Ant frowns, setting his and your books down onto the desk beside the boys.

“Okay if you had to live in a movie, the right option is Avengers, right?” Dusty explains, “Like why wouldn’t you want that?”

“It’s Jurassic Park!” Spider defends, “Who gives a shit about superheroes when you could just walk around with dinosaurs?”

“Did you… watch Jurassic Park?” Ant frowns, sitting down on the edge of the table and wrapping his arms around you so that you can perch between his legs.

“Shit goes wrong in Avengers all the time! And if you weren’t a superhero then you’re just one of those boring people in the street that has to run away from the bad guy,” Spider shakes his head, “What do you think (Y/n)? What film would you live in? Marvel or Jurassic Park?”

“Urm,” You clear your throat, “Surf’s Up.”

“Oooooh, and (Y/n) wins,” Dusty smiles, “Well played.”

They carry on their conversation about films and bring up all of the worst options they can think of. Spider gets Dusty into a headlock when he persists that Jurassic Park is one of the worst options. The two of them go tumbling into one of the desks.

“Hey, you okay?” Ant says softly into your ear.

You turn around and offer him a smile, “I’m okay.”

He kisses your cheek and you stand up from the desk, settling into your own seat with Ant beside you. He puts an arm around the back of your chair, swirling patterns on your shoulder like he always did. He was an affectionate boy, with nobody but you.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You look up to see Amerie and Harper walking over towards you as Spider and Dusty take the seats adjacent to you and Ant.

“We just wanted to check you were okay,” Amerie says, “Im so sorry that happened to you.”

“Oh, um,” You shake your head, “You don’t need to say sorry. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“We should’ve been watching more,” Harper encourages, “I mean seriously that’s so scary what happened.”

“Yeah I can’t believe how quick it all went,” Amerie adds on, shaking her head, “It’s seriously fucked up.”

“But we’re glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks girls,” You nod, “And thank you for… you know… helping.”

They both offer you that sympathetic smile you’d been seeing a little too often in the past few days. You appreciated the concern from everyone, it was nice. But you weren’t sure you could deal with another person checking up on you. They cared too much, right? You were fine. You were totally and utterly fine.

But there was a tightness in your chest that wouldn’t let up. It remained sat there, heavy and clenching. And the more you thought about that night, the tighter it got.

“Alright everybody settle down!” The teacher calls from the front of the class and everyone seems to settle into their spaces.

Ant keeps an arm over the back of your chair, as close to you as you can get. And you try to take a deep breath to ease the tightness in your chest. It doesn’t seem to go.

———

You’ve got sport next, and the boys are doing basketball on one side whilst the girls are on the other. The sports hall feels warm and stuffy and you’re certain the tightness in your chest has only got worse.

“(Y/N)?” It’s Harper’s voice that cuts through to you, flinching you from your thoughts, “You good?”

“I-“ You clear your throat, blinking, “I’m good.”

Just then, one of the boys yells something from the other side of the hall - you don’t know what, but the volume seems to cut through you. You feel yourself flinch again, your chest seemingly tightening even more. You feel like you’re trying to take a step forward and yet your feet are stuck in their exact spot. Like you’re sinking. Your body feels heavy and weak all at once and you’re completely out of control. Your vision starts to blur and your ears are pounding and all attempts at breathing seem to be escaping you. Like your body is fighting against itself.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s one of the girls again, coming over towards you in the sports hall.

But you’re not there. You’re back at the party and they’re coming over to you again, and you’re just as out of control as you were that night. You can make out the faint silhouettes of the boys - too far from you. And you can’t get to them, your mind and your body and your brain won’t allow you.

And then it all just seems to go dark.

———

When you next wake up, you’re in the uncertain surroundings of the nurse’s office. It smells of cleaning products and linen and the bed is rock solid beneath you.

“(Y/n),” The nurse smiles at you from over the room, “How are you feeling?”

Your throat is dry and your head is pounding, “What happened?”

“Well, you had a panic attack,” She says softly, “You didn’t pass out but it seemed you were very close to, your friends brought you here and you fell asleep not long after.”

You nod, “I don’t really remember much of it.”

“That’s okay, that’s completely normal,” She assures you, “There’s somebody that’s been waiting outside if you’re feeling up for having a visitor.”

You nod and sit on the side of the bed, your legs crossed beneath you. When she opens the door and steps outside, it’s Ant that comes in to keep you company.

“There she is!” He smiles softly, speaking so gently it almost doesn’t sound like him, “I thought you might be cold.”

He hands over his black hoodie to you and you pull it on, breathing in the lingering scent of his aftershave.

“How are you feeling?” Ant asks, taking his spot on the bed beside you, facing you.

“I’m okay, I’ve never had that happen before with a panic attack,” You shake your head, “I just couldn’t move or anything it was so scary.”

“Hey,” He reaches out and takes your hand, “You’ve also never been through anything like what happened to you at the weekend, and you’re allowed to be struggling with that.”

“I just-“ You shake your head, “People keep asking me if I’m okay and I keep saying I am but… I just keep thinking what would have happened if…”

Your bottom lip quivers and Ant wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Im never going to let that happen, (Y/n), I promise you,” He mumbles into you, “And I’ll be as patient as you need to help you deal with all of this.”

You pull away from him just enough to look into his eyes, letting them inject into you the warmth that he seemed to ooze.

“We can talk about it, we can find a therapist if you feel like that would help, we can speak to the police again, we can do anything,” He encourages, brushing your hair away from your face and cupping your cheek, “But I need you to know that I’m here, okay?”

You nod and lean into his touch as he smooths his thumb over your skin.

You sniff, “Thats the most serious I’ve ever seen you, Ant.”

He laughs, “Yeah I can be serious when I want to be.”

You smile and he leans in to kiss you as if he wants to seal the smile there. Seal the small fraction of yourself that he could see coming through. And he meant it, he’d do whatever he could to get all of those fractions back.

———————

Helpful Links

Stamp Out Spiking

Alcohol Think Again (AU)

Crisis Text Line

[steviewashere]

Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Bitchy/Mean Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson (Both Briefly and For Good Reason) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others

This is chapter one, which also includes the first two pages that I already posted. Please keep your expectations low, as I'm still working on the second and final chapter.

Read on AO3

Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three (Final)

🏀—————🏀 “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he’s been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas says, “and I know, I know, that Dustin and Mike tried everything in their power. And that Eddie was the one to, y’know, be the asshole. But I thought that maybe my friends would be on my side. That they’d skip the game, show Eddie up. Not get my little sister involved or have fun without me or…I don’t know.” And the way he says those last three words stings something acidic inside of Steve. Corrosion and battery acid hot and alive in his stomach. Anger reaching the surface of his skin, words crawling and resonating in his mouth. 

The doors to the school open distantly and Lucas suddenly perks back up, blossoming from where he was wilted against Steve’s car. “Doesn’t matter,” he chirps, though it’s all fake, “at least I can play with them now, which is awesome.”

But before he can stride away, to where his bike is parked and locked up, Steve snakes a hand onto Lucas’s wrist. They lock eyes again. “I’ll talk to him,” Steve swears, “he’ll apologize.”

“Steve, you don’t—“

“You used sports as a means to fit in, right? Granted, popularity’s not all that cool and you know that especially now. But it was a…a—“ He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “—A cover, something to find security in. And you had that. And that’s what the D&D game is to Eddie. Sports is my D&D, too.” He loosens his grip on Lucas’s arm. Neither make any sort of move. “Just because you were trying to find your people doesn’t mean you can be…” He chooses his next words carefully. “Ostracized or outcast by those who you found safety with before. Especially when those guys orbit around each other for the same reason. I’ll talk to him,” he urges, “and he will apologize, or else.”

Lucas gives him a softened look. “Thanks, Steve,” he mutters, “I wasn’t looking to start anything, but I appreciate you having my back. It really means a lot.” And then he shuffles away, towards his bicycle, small chat starting up with Mike and Dustin.

When Steve turns back towards the school, Eddie is sauntering towards him. Eyes wide. Smile big and easy. Yet, his soft features are all too nauseating to Steve’s chest right now. His heart aches. If Eddie thinks of Lucas’s interests that way, what does he think of mine?

He tamps down his annoyance and anger. Because Eddie takes his hand and is looking at him as if the world belongs to the two of them. But that hurt on Lucas’s face is like a dagger impaled in his brain when Eddie greets nice and low, “Hi, baby. Been thinking about you the entire time I was in there.”

Steve smiles, though it may come off as more of a grimace with how Eddie falters. “Been thinking about you, too,” he echoes. Though, thinking positively isn’t what he’s been doing, as far as anybody’s concerned. Beat around the bush, he tells himself. He takes a steadying breath, posture straightening, demeanor changing. Says with a sour tone, “I, uh, I think we need to have a little talk in the car, if that’s okay? It’s not a breakup thing, but it might make you…somebody might get mad and I don’t want to cage you in at my house.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes go distant very briefly. When he refocuses on Steve, something has hardened in his features. Steve’s throat goes tight. “It can’t wait until after our date night?” There’s a low amount of ire in his words already and Steve is momentarily caught in it. Until he lets his eyebrows scrunch down his face again, giving in to that tightness in his throat.

He sighs, annoyed already. “No, Eddie,” he bites without meaning to. “I need to talk to you now. I’m already upset about it and it’s not going to do me any good to just brush it off.” His hand releases from Eddie’s grip, falling heavy against his side. He turns towards his driver’s side door and stares back at where Eddie is rooted. “Come on,” he states lowly, “you were the one to tell me to talk about the shit that’s bothering me. Can’t ignore it just because it has to do with you.”

Bitchy is probably not the best approach to all of this, but Steve is already cornered out of options. He pulls his door open with more force than necessary. Slides into his seat, key into the ignition, and honks once at Eddie. Jarringly gestures at the passenger seat. Thankfully, there’s nobody else to witness the potential torrential fire that’s brewing in him. It’ll be just the two of them; though that realization stirs something sickly in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie gets in silently. Places his school bag in the footwell. And keeps his face pointed out the windshield. “What’s wrong?” He asks, though his voice is devoid and edging on irritated.

Steve rolls his eyes, though Eddie can’t see him. He sets his hands firmly on his steering wheel. Squeezes the leather for comfort, an instinct. And heaves a sigh, urging himself to be calmer about this. “I had a talk with Lucas,” he starts. “About, uh, about his championship game back in March.”

Next to him, Eddie immediately tenses.

He continues without acknowledgement. Keeps himself as leveled as possible. “He told me that you refused to move your game for his. That he was looking forward to having his friends, which I’m assuming includes you, watch him play. And I—I know how important that championship game was to him. Y’know, it’s one of the bigger—“

“Are you mad because I didn’t want to sit at some jock event?” Eddie interrupts, question clipped. Though there’s also mild amusement in his tone, as if Steve being upset is poposterous. He continues without any regard for Steve. “In a room full of, mind you, people who hate me?”

Steve tenses more than Eddie had. His shoulders hiking and his stomach knotting impossibly more. Finally lets the dog bark, gives in to whatever it wants. “You know what, Eddie?” He bitches back. “I am mad at you. In fact, I…I…I’m so fucking angry that you…you make this whole deal about ‘lost sheep’ and herding them in to play your game. You concern yourself with making a community for people who are lost to the crowd of cliques in that school. And it’s just—Lucas is one of those kids! He is, even if that means he wants to play basketball!”

The passenger seat squeaks. Clothes rustling as Eddie turns toward him. But Steve doesn’t rip his eyes from the windshield. If anything, he leans more towards the left, creating a deeper, larger space between them. His hands instinctively tighten on the steering wheel again.

“Yeah, I do pride myself on that,” Eddie spits. “I do. Which is why, honestly, it irks me that Lucas would pick a crowd full of assholes. A bunch of people who would never give him the time of day.”

Steve goes rigid at that. He was an asshole, too. He knows that. Eddie especially knows that. The Munson Doctrine wouldn’t exist without the inclusion of asshole jocks, Steve being near the top of the list. He tries to tell himself that Eddie doesn’t think of him that way, but it’s hard considering himself. Who he used to be. Instead, he takes another breath, this one longer and hopefully more steadying than the other ones have been.

“He went out for basketball for a sense of security,” Steve states slowly, verging on impatient. “To find somewhere to belong to. That’s all a freshman looks for—a group to be somebody with. And, you know, considering that he’s already sort of singled out for being one of a few black kids at the school…Belonging is kind of important to him.” He settles back into his seat, arms still stretched to their full length in front of him. His stomach is turning and his heart is racing. And why won’t Eddie just get this? “Even if the basketball team has a bunch of assholes, he still wanted to do it. He was celebrated for his skills, who he is—even if it was for a moment. Playing was, and probably still is, important to him. And you—“ Steve finally turns his head towards Eddie. Knows his eyes are shooting daggers, can see where they lodge themselves between Eddie’s ribs. He raises a finger and accuses, “—you made his game feel unimportant. None of his best friends came because they were toopreoccupied with your game.” His face grows unusually hot as his voice drags passionately. The words just tumbling, splattering between them. But he carries on like a fire fed, “They even got his little sister to play yourgame. And, you know what really hurt to hear? Lucas wanted at least Erica to watch. And she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because of your game, Eddie. How do you think that looks to him?”

Eddie has the audacity to look cowed, appalled. His mouth agape and his eyes as two large craters on his face. And for the first time, probably ever, he is stunned into silence.

Steve looks away. Bitter. All that festers in him now is hurt, ache, sadness. He chews on his lip, inhales softly through his nose, and opens his mouth with a silent word. Finally, he murmurs, “When I came to the high school as a freshman, I did the exact same thing as Lucas did. I joined the basketball team. Not because I was good. Or because my dad forced me to, like everybody seems to think. It’s because I wanted to fit in.”

His eyes are stinging. Cheeks flushing even more with overwhelming, consuming emotion. Continues, “And, though I let the feeling eat away at me, it felt good to be protected by a camaraderie like that. Outside of the nerdy friend group I had in middle school, going into high school. It felt good. And—It’s not the same as why Lucas joined, I know that, but I can understand.

“On top of that, I never had friends or family members show up for me at my games. So, for me to know the hurt Lucas feels, that would be an understatement. What’s important to note, though, is that he had people in his life to be there for him and they didn’t show. They didn’t.”

The fight is draining out of him, but he has to solidify his point. Has to finish this or else. Thinks briefly that maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, but he can’t make himself do that. The ferocity engulfing him from the inside out all too much to ignore. He’s been beaten down before for Lucas, literally—oh so literally—but he’d do it again and again and again for that kid to find his footing. Including this…spat? One sided argument? This argument with his boyfriend. 

“Even I was there,” he says, hollowly, “cheering him on. It just would’ve been nice, for him, to have more than just some washed up, ex-jock, nobody be there. Right? I’m sure you get where I’m coming from. You can understand what I’m saying.” He glances forlorn out his window. Can’t even muster the courage to look over at Eddie. He��s basically drained himself. Being vulnerable isn’t his forte, but he can be for the people around him. Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being. “Well, I thought you’d understand. Wanting to have a community, people to lean on, to make something of yourself. No matter the means. I just didn’t think you’d be part of the reason that Lucas feels so…so singular.”

He takes a deep breath, ignoring how nasally it is to his ears. And mutters, a final thing, “I didn’t think you viewed something that Lucas and I are into as so…nothing. I try my best to be better about what you like, but it seems that you don’t make that same effort. That’s not fair, Eddie. You should know that.”

Without much else to say and with Eddie’s eerie silence, he starts the car. Puts it into drive. And peels away into the silence of the long and stretching road.

Briefly, he thinks about turning on the radio or cranking down the window, but the air is too thick to move through. Even the slight turns of his steering wheel is enough to make him feel sick. He’s sick with how disgustingly to-the-point he had to be. Though, there’s no other way that Eddie would’ve listened. Not with how defensive he immediately got.

The original date night plan had been to go to his house, but he finds himself pulling into Forest Hills’ driveway. Past the dimly lit trailers and the striking quietness of Max’s home. He parks in the vacant spot next to Eddie’s van. Which, the van is broken down right now—the main reason Steve is even driving Eddie around. But, now what? Is Eddie mad at how mad Steve was? Is he going to realize that he doesn’t like Steve because of his interests, who he is? Is this it?

A gentle anxious thrum runs through Steve like the very blood he needs to exist.

He silences the car. And just sits with his hands in his lap. Looking blankly at Eddie’s front door.

“Your stop,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t make a move to open his door. To step out. To walk away from…all that Steve is and has been.

Steve turns to him, gestures loosely at the Munson’s. “Your stop,” he reiterates.

“I—“ Eddie musters, voice croaking and rough. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know Lucas was mad about that. I didn’t think it…mattered.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Steve bitterly states, “It’s not like you actually cared.”

“But I do,” Eddie insists, “I care so much about Lucas. And I care so much about you. I swear!” He finally moves, tossing himself in the seat to face Steve, flailing. His face a mournful thing, downturned and sad. Skin pale and his hands desperate and his voice urgent. “There’s no excuse, I know. But I just…The reason I look at jocks so awfully is because they’ve always turned on me, you know? They always downplay my interests and mock me and tease me for what I like. Which is why I have to show myself as the bigger guy, that I can take it. I just didn’t realize that I was doing it, too.”

Slowly, Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Fingers tightening over his biceps. “Real life and your friends are more important than biases, Eddie.”

“I see that now.”

“And I think that you…you love me? And that you like Lucas. But it’s just hard to feel that, for either of us, when you adamantly refuse to involve yourself in our interests. Even if it means attending some jock event. Even if it means sitting in a room full of people that hate you. Which, by the way, that isn’t true because Lucas and I both like you—I love you, even.” He faces Eddie again. His face a sure thing of great ache, based on Eddie’s own crestfallen eyes. “Maybe just…give us space for a couple days? Think about this. Apologize once you’ve given it some thought. I understand where the whole hating jocks thing comes from, but just think about how that hurts, too.”

Eddie takes a gasping breath. “But I’m sorry now, Stevie,” he swears, “I am. I’m so sorry.”

There’s part of those words that soothe Steve like aloe to a sunburn, but he can’t accept them. Knows that the sure sting of the burn will still be there if he lets Eddie do this now. So he collects himself, mulls the words, and defends himself—for once. “I’ll accept that when it doesn’t feel like you’re saying it just to make me feel better. I want you to mean it. And I want you to apologize to Lucas first.”

He watches Eddie nod fervently, sharply. His hands twisting together in his lap and his eyes wetting, shoved harshly to the side. “Yeah, okay,” his voice trembles, “okay, I’ll fix this.”

Carefully, Steve takes Eddie’s hands. Tugs them until Eddie looks at him. Involuntarily, he makes a soft, sympathetic noise. It’s clear in the wetness of Eddie’s eyes that he’s determined to change this, to make this better. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to hurt this severely. He presses deep into the back of Eddie’s hands, tethering himself down to the earth, away from the cloud of anger that threatens to swallow him whole. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, “listen to me, baby. I know that you’re sorry. I know, okay? But Lucas won’t know that, he’ll probably think you’re saying it to get on his good side. And…maybe you are, a bit, but it’ll be better if you really mean it. Trust me.” He swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles, massages them to ease the tension. “I still love you. I’m still learning, too, to love your interests with my full heart. And I know that it’s hard to let go of stupid biases, but you’ll be better for it. You will, Eds, and you’ll find you actually feel good.” Steve runs his hands up Eddie’s arms, to his shoulders, the sides of his neck.

Gently, he cups Eddie’s face between his hands. Presses his thumbs underneath Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie softens, loosening. Breathes slowly onto Steve’s wrists. “I’ll make this right, Steve,” he promises quietly, “I want to love both of you guys right.”

“I believe you,” he whispers in turn, “you’re a good guy, Eddie. You’ve got a good soul and a good heart. But you just need to relearn some things, baby.” He leans in, softly pecks the soft tissue of Eddie’s facial scar, and pulls away. Reaches up and runs a hand through the wiry ends of Eddie’s curls. Finds that he does mean the softness in his words, even with the bitter edge in his chest. He murmurs, “Let’s cool off tonight, because I know we’re both upset. And we’ll reconvene in a couple days, after my shift. I’ll help you come up with a good apology, promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, sniffling.

“I love you,” he feels the need to remind.

“I love you, too, Stevie. And I mean that. I really do.”

🏀—————🏀

Taglist (Open For Chapter Two): @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging @croatoan-like-its-hot @reinedslys-central

[kitscutie]

amicable (drew starkey x reader)

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗐 ꜱ𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀ꜱ: 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗅𝖾 ꜱ𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗐𝗍

ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋 '𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋' 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺ꜱ𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖮𝖡𝖷 ᖯ𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 Ⅾ𝗋𝖾𝗐.

𝖺/𝗇: 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 ꜱ𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 ꜱ𝗈 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒. 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 ꜱ𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗍𝗆 :𝗉

Everybody in the cast was extremely excited for this interview as is included everyone together which very rarely happened sadly.

Drew was dressed in a lavender suit which made your heart swoon, he was so handsome and somehow suited any colour his stylists shoved him in, nevertheless he looked especially good today.

"You feeling okay?" He asked as he took his seat next to you in the top row of seats above Austin, Carlacia, Madison and Chase. He knew the nerves you got before interviews, sadly you didn't have the best experiences with interviews. Constantly picking yourself apart during and after.

You never knew if you had spoken too much or too little. Too loudly or too quietly. However, since you started dating a member of the same cast as you it became a lot easier, his presence enough to pull you back in times of need.

"Yeah, it's nice to have everyone together." You smiled, grabbing his hand to help him up into the seat.

He smiled back and took a sip from his water bottle, before putting it down he offered some to you which you gladly accepted while listening to the crew around you prepare.

"Good, we're on in a couple minutes." He replied, screwing the lid back on the bottle and placing it at the legs of the stools you sat on.

You watched as Madelyn was taken to the chair at the front, separate from the rest, and realised the interview was most likely starting earlier than expected.

Hearing the camera men begin to count down Drew sent you a comforting smile as well as two pats to your thigh which was partially exposed between the slit of your dress.

"I'm Madelyn Cline and we are the cast of Outer Banks, and we are here to test how well we know each other." She finished with a relieved sigh after multiple failed attempts.

Everybody in the room laughed all while clapping, Drew even let out a few wolf whistles which made you laugh ten times harder, he was one of those people that you found hilarious no matter what he did, and finally the interview began.

By the end of Madelyn's round you had one point for knowing her second favourite astrological sign though this was the round that would pull you in the most points. Drew.

"Purple Nurple, in the hot seat." Chase said as Drew sat down which made you burst into laughter all over again while Drew sent you a dirty look, but the fact he wasn't truly mad was given away by his smirk.

"First question, what's my secret talent?" He asked, deadpan. "Bonus, where did I learn my talent."

Everybody in the room turned to look at you though you were squinting in thought. "I'm not sure you have loads." You said innocently, though it seemed to sound dirty as everyone else began to laugh while Rudy repeated 'woah' for a couple of minutes.

"I just mean he has a lot of weird talents to it could be any!" You defended, blushing face buried in your hands as Drew reached over to rub your knee gently, though even he was laughing.

"Guitar, piano, it's an instrument." Madison said, which was true, he did play a few instruments but it could of been any of them.

"Write it down, cause what's happening right now is were just giving you ideas." Carlacia said, always the voice of reason.

"I feel like I should know this." You said under your breath, feeling a tad bad for having no clue which one he would write.

"You do know it baby, I do it around the house." He said while writing.

Your heart rate spiked hearing his use of the pet name in an interview, knowing it would be mentioned in the comments, but seeing as no one else mentioned it you relaxed and continued on with the game.

"All right my secret talent, I do think someone said it, uh- Rudy, it's juggling." He revealed and you could've kicked yourself in the face. Of course it was.

"Who's my favourite Outer Banks character?" Was the next question and you smirked while the rest of the cast all said y/c/n in unison, before bursting into laughter.

"No, it's Barry." You answered after the giggles had died down.

He began to write again, a smile on his face. "It's those gold teeth, they really get you going."

"Let's stop playing around." Jonathan said to the camera, everybody shipped Rafe and Barry so it had become a sort of inside joke.

"If I could live anywhere in the world where would I live." He asked, making direct eye contact with you and signalled to zip your lips. You chuckled before zipping your own and throwing away the key. This was one you very obviously knew seeing as you currently lived together and so you didn't want to give it away so easily.

"I'm tempted to say bikini bottom, but..." Carlacia started.

"North Carolina." Jonathan and Madelyn said at the same time, before laughing. They had seen the card.

"Ashville, North Carolina. That's my favourite place on earth. The Outer Banks." He smiled to the camera and you couldn't help but think he was adorable. You too cherished that place dearly and so you had both spoken about moving there.

Moving back into his seat next to you, he gave you a high five, signalling you had done well.

Finally, at the end of the interview it was your turn and the cast hooted as you got into the talking seat. You smiled at their antics before beginning your questions.

"Who is my celebrity crush?" You asked, smiling and trying not to laugh as Drew looked incredibly cocky, though he knew the real answer.

"Drew Starkey." Rudy shouted, making everybody laugh though they quickly went back to thinking.

"C'mon Maddy we watched one of his movies the other day." You hinted, her face twisted in thought and then realisation.

"Oh my god, I can't remember his name!" She yelled, desperately while everyone else laughed at her downfall.

"Drew please just spoil it." Chase asked after no one could remember and Madelyn was on the verge of an aneurism.

"Dylan O'brien." He revealed, a cheeky but pleased smile on his face as he was very comfortable in your relationship and knew it was something you had spoken about on live before.

"Tut tut, I expected better." You joked. "Okay, what is my birthmark and where is it?" You revealed the next question.

"This is rigged!" Carlacia shouted as they were all relatively intimate questions which Drew would most likely know.

"Hey! It's not my fault I'm a good boyfriend." He faux-pouted.

"Don't listen to 'em Joseph, they are just ashamed they're crappy friends." You sighed jokingly, bowing your head and pretending to be sad.

"No! I actually know it. It's on the inside of your arm and it's a heart." Rudy proudly stated, though everyone knew not to ask as he had seen it when your character and JJ were filming a not so PG scene. Awkward.

"Correct! A real friend." You grinned, blowing a kiss to him which Drew pretended to reach out and grab before it reached him which once again, gave everyone the giggles.

The winner was announced as Madison as you and Drew jokingly sulked at the back.

"This is blasphemy!" Carlacia yelled and then the cameras cut, just missing Drew picking you up bridal style and running away in protest of the loss.