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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous.

No one dared to say another word, let alone move.

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”

“Oh?” you croaked.

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.

You remembered what you’d forgotten.

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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GUARD DOG (11)

SUMMARY: During the aftermath of your confession, you and Astarion navigate your feelings.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,982

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2, canon typical violence, brief mentions of past abuse.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I made my Saturday schedule with a few hours to spare. :') Also, update: I'm going to be closing my tag list on Monday. I have a lot of people signed up and it's becoming a bit overwhelming to keep track of over time so if you've been thinking about joining do it while you still can!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

You feel like a ghost, drifting from one experience to the next —your body moving as needed while your mind wanders, failing to grasp the fact that you’re already rooted inside of Moonrise Towers.

Blinking hard at such a realization, you find yourself scanning the secluded office you and the party suddenly occupy, feeling the fog of your mind slowly begin to lift, remembering why you’re here. Why Ketheric Thorm has somehow allowed you to explore the contents of his subject’s office.

He needs you to get the relic. Not that you know exactly what that is. Considering he doesn’t trust you yet, all you know is that after you’ve gathered supplies you’re meant to go to the mausoleum to find it. Along with a man named Balthazar who’s gone missing. The same man whose office you now find yourself looting.

Moving through the space as quietly as possible, you notice quickly that all around there are stacks of books, creating this sort of claustrophobic space you have to steady your breath against. Deep within your chest, you can feel the past anxiety of the day bubbling up within your throat as you take it all in, threatening to spill just as Wyll clears his throat, telling you to hurry up so that Z’rell doesn’t get suspicious.

At the mention of Ketheric’s disciple —an orc woman you met earlier— you swallow hard and nod, allowing the fog to resurface as you wander towards a nearby desk, exploring the contents of the tabletop with narrowed eyes. Across it, all the usual items sit: various notebooks, an ink bottle with a well-used quill, a couple of decorative knick knacks here and there. However, there’s also a skull that sits at the top right edge, piquing your interest enough to reach out and grab it, testing out the weight.

“Death enthusiast or necromancer?”

As if on cue, Astarion slithers up to your side, pulling out various tools from his pocket before kneeling on the ground, turning his attention to the desk drawer.

Almost immediately you reply with necromancer, but unlike him, there isn’t a flirtatious tone that coats your words. Instead, there’s just exhaustive sadness, prompting his eyes to flicker up momentarily as he pushes the hook into the keyhole.

“Care to elaborate?”

You shrug and run your finger around the eye socket of the skull, tracing the edge with distraction —feeling your mind continue to distance itself from the task at hand as your gaze grows fuzzy.

It’s a sensation that suddenly makes you remember the events of earlier. The ones where you foolishly confessed your feelings only to receive no such reciprocation. A feeling that weighs you down without warning, covering you in a layer of anxious smog that sticks to your skin, reminding you that you’re mad at him. Frustrated and disappointed —a version of yourself that makes you wish you could be anywhere else so that you could process your feelings.

Because you haven’t had time to, yet. Thanks to Shadowheart’s interruption, all you’ve been left with is questions. Inquiries so intense that between fighting the convoy for the lantern and arriving at the steps of Moonrise, you’ve managed to drive yourself over the edge.

Breathing in, you can feel how heavy it’s made you. How, as Astarion remains knelt beside you, trying his best to avoid your gaze but ultimately failing to do so, makes you want to plummet into the earth in a heap of tears.

“I’m going to take a look in the other room,” you tell him then, giving yourself a moment of reprieve as you place the skull back onto the desk and make your way to the door. Once there, you reach for the handle and freeze in place, releasing a shaky plume of air before you swallow hard and push it open, allowing it to close until Astarion’s hand shoots out to grab it.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Standing near the entrance, you open your mouth to respond but ultimately fail to come up with anything that isn’t mean-spirited, prompting you to instead frown and turn on your heel, moving towards the farthest bookcase you can find. Immediately after that, you attempt to tune out his presence completely, opting to sift through the catalogue of books before you, searching for some sort of clue. Perhaps a book on the Shadowlands themselves or something to do with the undead —anything to distract your mind from Astarion’s movements as he explores the room, eventually turning to face you.

“I assume you want to talk about earlier.”

You do but not right now, so instead of responding you roll your eyes and grab the first book you see, opening it up to find a series of familiar-looking symbols gracing the page.

At first, they merely look like some sort of intricate design. The way each figure curls in odd ways, drawing your eye to the complicated graph in the centre. Then your mind clicks into place and you’re suddenly blinking back the fog, forcing your mind to focus on the translations written below each image, realizing what they are.

They’re Infernal letters. The language of the Hells clearly displayed in front of you, reminding you of Astarion’s scars as you look up to scan him, watching him reach for a nearby book.

“Listen, darling, I know you’re angry with me but—“

Without even thinking, you shush him loudly, moving towards his frame. “Take off your shirt.”

He drops his jaw open in shock, laughing in slight confusion. “I beg your pardon? Take off my shirt?” His eyes are wide as he continues to stare, quickly discovering that you’re serious as he tosses the aforementioned book aside. “You’re aware our compatriots are just beyond this door, correct? Or have you suddenly gone mad with lust and failed to remember?”

You scrunch up your face, shaking your head. “Ew, Astarion. No, not like that.”

He shoots you a look of relief before quickly backtracking and narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry —what d’you mean ew?”

His sudden offence makes you scoff and motion to the open page in front of you, forcing him to notice the symbols. “These look like your scars, don’t they? The ones on your back.”

There’s a moment of silence that stirs between you then. As Astarion reaches for the page, gently brushing his fingers over yours while leaning in, you swallow hard and try not to think of before. Of the unrequited statement that still lingers between you, ripping you apart while he somehow remains fine.

Standing there, drinking in the great interest that befalls his face, you find it incredibly hard not to reach out and shake him in that moment. To grip him by the collar and demand answers despite knowing there are far more important things at hand. For example, the fact that, on top of the already complicated infiltration mission, you’re now required to go on this little treasure hunt. One that will most likely have dangerous consequences if you manage to fail.

Meaning, the last thing you should be thinking about is how Astarion still hasn’t bothered to respond to your confession.

“Did that bastard seriously carve Infernal into my flesh?” He looks disgusted as he glances up at you, his brows knitted towards the centre of his face while you offer your sympathies.

“I guess so.”

Swearing under his breath, he takes a step back, immediately moving his hands to pop open the leathers of his armour, ignoring the way you press your lips together nervously.

“You know he spent the entire night doing it,” he says then, moving his hands across the many fastenings, shaking his head at the memory. “For hours I laid bare beneath him, enduring the pain of his blasted knife —and for what? So he could further brand me as his own? Make even more claim to a helpless slave.”

You frown at his words, hearing the ache of his voice crack inside your ears as you take a step forward, listening to him huff and toss his leathers onto the floor before taking off his undershirt.

“Wasn’t it enough to merely strip me of my rights? To starve me as I filled him up each night.”

A part of you wants to tell him no. That nothing Cazador did to him would ever be enough. But then you hear the breath that escapes his chest —the tremors of its wake hitting your fingers as you tentatively grip his shoulder, feeling the strain of his muscles tense beneath your touch.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” you tell him, forcing your thumb further into his flesh with careful precision, feeling him melt. “We can take the book and come back to it.”

Immediately, he scoffs in response, craning his neck towards you just as the door creaks open, revealing a very shocked looking Gale who freezes at the doorway.

“I uh… I recognize that I’m interrupting something. However, might I suggest the two of you perhaps don’t do this right now?”

Releasing Astarion from your grasp, you take a step back and close the book in your hand. “May I suggest knocking, maybe?”

Gale snorts and raises his hands in innocence. “Perhaps you’re right. My apologies. I promise I’m not here to make a fuss. Just here to remind you that while you’re attempting to bed one another in quite literally the worst location we’ve experienced thus far, the rest of us are out here dealing with the constant reminder of our impending doom.”

Smiling sarcastically, Gale then motions to Astarion who smiles back and reaches for his clothes. “And here I was thinking of inviting you to our little party.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll have to decline though on account of the fact that both of you frighten me and frankly, I’m not one for sharing.”

“Hm. Too bad.” Astarion pouts, prompting you to sigh in embarrassment, pressing the book in your hands against your forehead.

“Yes, well, anyway. The rest of us are going to split up and take a look around. Feel free to join us?”

His last sentence is phrased as a question but you know deep down it’s more of a command, telling you to stop, so you do. Nodding your head in response, the two of you then watch him leave before turning to the other, releasing shared heavy breaths as Astarion continues to redress.

“Stupid wizard.”

Despite the grin that erupts across your face, you realize then that focusing on anything other than the task at hand is dangerous. That, even though you want the answers to all the questions floating inside your head, the only thing you should be focusing on is Ketheric Thorm and the hidden relic that Balthazar failed to collect.

You shouldn’t be thinking of yourselves. At least, not in the way your mind wants to. Instead of emotions, it should be focused on survival. On the steps needed to ensure your safety to get to all the parts you actually want.

“He’s right you know —about doing this another time.” You tap the cover of the book and see Astarion roll his eyes, moving his hands to readjust the top layer of his armour with a sigh.

“I understand that but—“

Before he can finish, your hand finds his chest, pressing it softly. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I promise. Just give it time.”

Deep down you know it’s a difficult thing to ask. Considering Astarion’s spent the majority of his life waiting already, you’re well aware of the lack of patience he’s developed. How, his sliver of freedom thanks to the Illithid has granted him the ability to become easily irritated by time.

Unsurprisingly, since you’ve known him, he’s always been prone to bouts of restlessness. Whenever he’s forced to wait there’s often a scowl that presents itself across his face, growing with each passing moment until he eventually explodes. Because of this, when you look at him with desperate eyes, watching the way he twitches and shifts, you’re more than anxious. You’re downright terrified. Lost to a grouping of thoughts that tell you he most likely hates you for asking.

“I promise the moment we have time, I’ll spend every waking hour trying to translate this for you,” you tell him. Hoping and praying that just this once he’ll understand that waiting is the right thing to do and not a lie you tell him to gain his trust.

“Can we even afford to wait, though?”

You look at him like you don’t know the answer, sliding your hand upwards to play with his collar. “At this rate, we might just have to take that chance. You heard so yourself, Gale and the others are already planning to depart. We can’t fall behind and further risk our chance of surviving this.”

He knows you're right. You can tell by the way his jaw clenches and he looks away, trying to suppress the frustrations.

“I know I already said it before but I do love you. Truly. I’d do anything to make you happy but right now keeping you safe is my number one priority and if that means delaying said happiness, so be it.”

After that, there’s a moment of silence that hits. One that’s filled with avoided glances and heavy sighs —all of which come from Astarion as he struggles to accept your words.

At first, it fills you with regret, realizing the way you phrased yourself probably sounds a bit insensitive. But then you see that familiar smirk begin to curl across his lips, pulling upwards with a scoff as he playfully shoves you away.

“Fine. I’ll wait. But not because you told me to.”

“Of course.”

“I’m serious. You’re not the boss of me. I can do whatever I please. You just happen to make an effective argument. Plus, you’re rather convincing when you’re professing your undying love for me.”

“Shut up.” Pushing him back in annoyance, you shake your head and step through the doorway, moving through the office until you’re out in the hall again, glancing around as you pack away the book. “What supplies do we need anyway?”

“Potions, definitely. Perhaps some arrows or elixirs. I know Gale wanted some spell scrolls but after the stunt he pulled earlier I refuse to get him any.”

You fake pout in his direction as you both begin to walk with no destination in mind. “Aw, is somebody sad that the wizard didn’t accept his sexual invitation?”

“Hardly. That man wouldn’t know an orgasm from a sneeze.”

Suppressing the urge to laugh, you offer an unknowing shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t bed a goddess and not have the dexterity to please a woman.”

Scoffing, Astarion turns towards a random doorway, giving you a curious look before you nod your head, prompting him to open the door. “Please, the man pales in dexterous endeavours compared to me.”

“Hm. Maybe. Perhaps I’ll ask him for a hand one day. Maybe do a little experimentation?”

As you smirk in his direction there’s a feeling of normalcy that hits. Slowly but surely it fills you up with that familiar warmth, reminding you of the reason you first fell for Astarion in the first place. Somehow he has this unwavering ability to make you grin through the darkness. To distract you from the hellish fear that nips at your feet each time you step into dangerous territory.

Compared to everyone else he’s the closest thing you’ve had to a friend. And now that you’re joking back and forth, grinning as he stares at you in fake shock thanks to your statement, you begin to accept that his response no longer matters. That you’ve made your peace with it, knowing he’s still there, comforting you in all the ways you need as you walk further into the room, noticing a white-haired woman standing in the corner.

Upon taking another step she turns from the worktable in front of her, raising a brow at the two of you before fully turning around with a grin. “Ah, the True Soul.” Moving forward, she then extends her hand towards you but fails to meet your gaze once she notices Astarion’s nose begin to turn up, causing you to frown. “I’m Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts.”

Taking her hand, you feel an unwanted heat hit your palm, making you look down as you peel away, offering your name before motioning to Astarion. “This is—“

“A vampire spawn,” she interrupts with interest, leaning towards him with crossed arms and curious eyes. “What an absolute pleasure.”

Both of you share an awkward glance that doesn’t go unnoticed. Despite that though, she barely bats an eye as she offers her hand again, this time to Astarion who clears his throat and shakes his head. “Astarion… sorry I don’t… touch.”

At first, she seems a bit disappointed but then such feelings are quickly erased when she turns her attention back to you, revealing another grin as she drops her hand. “I assume you’re faring well around Moonrise?”

“If by fairing you mean struggling to find a decent potion seller then yes.”

She clicks her tongue in understanding, turning towards the worktable behind her to grab a vial unprompted. “Perhaps I could be of service then? As long as you’re willing, of course.”

“Willing?” You raise your brow, watching her twist the vile between her fingers with a smirk.

“I happen to trade in blood,” she explains. “And the potions that can be wrung from it. Obviously considering such details it’s ideal that I earn the consent of my customers. Otherwise who knows what kind of havoc might occur. Hence the willingness.”

“Hm, now nice of you to offer the bare minimum,” Astarion comments, making you narrow your eyes in confusion, wondering what’s suddenly got him so on edge.

“Yes well, if you’d humour me with a drop or two of your blood I could whip up something truly potent for the both of us.”

Immediately there’s a wariness that sets in at the mention of sharing. Overall, it feels as if there’s something off about her. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself or the instant distrust you sense from Astarion as he stands beside you, tensing up with every passing moment you spend talking to her. Either or, you take both as a sign of caution, taking a moment to collect your thoughts as you glance around to view her workspace, noticing various needles and vials, haphazardly filled with liquids you can only assume to be her customer’s blood.

“Not sure I like the idea of weaponizing my blood, to be honest.” Offering her a polite smile, you see her kindness falter in response, replacing it with an air of curiosity.

“I can assure you it’s safe,” she says. “Nothing more than a pinprick but obviously if you aren’t keen perhaps we can discuss other matters.”

As she speaks her gaze focuses on Astarion once again, her lids half-closing in such a lusty way you find your chest brimming with something bordering between anger and jealousy —enveloping you in hatred.

“Your spawn, for example.”

The way she says it feels like she’s insinuating a sense of ownership. As if Astarion’s your pet or something equally disgusting. Angrily, it makes you scrunch up your face and turn towards him, sharing a look of displeasure before ultimately turning back to scowl. “You’re aware he’s his own person, right?”

She laughs dryly. “I’m sure he believes that.”

“Yes, he does. Because it’s true.”

After that she’s silent for a moment, taking in your words. Allowing them to sift within the air as each of you stare at one another, trying to figure out how to proceed even though you know you’re already done.

Unable to entertain the lack of sense, you move your hand to Astarion’s arm, feeling him tense beneath your grasp. Then you awaken your tadpole to contact his, feeling the creature shift against the corner of your eye.

Can we leave, please?

Before he can make the effort to listen to your words, Araj is already speaking again, telling you stories of her childhood and how, even then, she wished to be bitten by a vampire, prompting the two of you to stop.

“I’m sorry. You want to be bitten?” Astarion says in disbelief, watching her nod and take a step closer, sharing her interest further.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death?

She looks at him longingly as she speaks, telling him then that she’d want nothing more than to feel the icy sting of his teeth against her flesh, making you scoff in disgust even though you know all too well what it feels like. How addictive it can be to let your mind drift away as you're sucked dry.

“I’ll even compensate you if you like.”

“Compensate me?” Astarion laughs. “Darling, I’m sorry but my talents cannot be bought.”

“Not even for a potion of legendary power?” she muses.

Immediately, he shakes his head. “Hm, afraid not.”

Her tone shifts then, frustrations filling her every pore as she looks towards you but motions to him. “You might want to talk some sense into your spawn, you know. I don’t offer such rarities lightly.”

You catch Astarion open his mouth to respond, but before he can you’re already stepping forward, inserting yourself into Araj’s space with such powerful aggression, pressing your knife to her throat.

“Are you always this dense?”

Suddenly aware of the consequences of her actions, she lets out a shaky breath and eyes Astarion, her expression filling with desperation as you press the blade further into her flesh, using your other hand to force her to look at you. “You’re aware of the meaning, yes? Of the word no?”

Instead of answering she just groans at you, angling her head upwards to try and distance herself from the knife, forcing you to tighten your hold. “Oh, you don’t? Well, allow me to enlighten you then.”

For a moment you pause, grinning wickedly at the fear within her eyes. Taking in the change of demeanour as you twist the edge of your blade away, huffing as you release her all at once, watching her gasp.

“It means he doesn’t want to suck your fucking throat. Just as I don’t want to kill you… at least, not here.”

Sensing the truth within your words, Araj gives you a careful nod and retreats, reaching to grip her tender neck as you put away your blade and scowl one final time.

As you do Astarion looks at you with wide eyes, barely responding when you grab his arm and lead him back out of the room, swearing angrily under your breath when you slam the door behind you.

“Well, that was an eventual moment.”

You can’t help but laugh and lean forward once you realize you’re alone again, resting your forehead against his shoulder in slight embarrassment. “Sorry. I just…”

His hand loops around your shoulders before you can even think to pull away, forcing you into his chest as he laughs and kisses your head, granting you a moment of peace within his hold. “Don’t be. It’s quite enjoyable seeing you like that.”

“All deranged?” you mumble against his chest.

“Protective,” he corrects. “In fact, I find it quite flattering seeing you puffed up, ready to kill for me.”

You snort and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him even closer. “Like I said, it’s because I love you.”

“Yes, well…” Pausing to clear his throat, you feel his hand stroke the top of your head, slowly moving down towards the back of your neck before repeating the process —doing it several times before he ultimately releases a heavy breath. “I love you too, darling. Thank you.”

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bobluvbot · 8 months ago

Text

drivers license

pairing: james potter x f!reader summary: 'cause he said forever, but now you drive alone past his street. notes: muggle&modern!au, angst, reader gets in a slight panic attack. james as your high school bf :') first fic in a looong while, pls be nice! 2.6k wc

The moment you set the parking brake on, the evaluator began writing furiously on the long sheet of paper.

You should be combing through your actions and decisions for the twenty minutes that seemed to go by quickly, but you don’t. You know you did your best. You remembered what those green arrows and red signs meant. The yielding and the measured speeds. That the car follows where your eyesight lands so you have to be careful on what you set your focus on. Everything by the book.

Why is it that the things that stick would be those taught to us by the people who are simply not there anymore?

But then again, you remember that you also made hard brakes that made both you and the evaluator lurch an inch forward; and you got confused when he tried to distract you by fidgeting with the trinkets your mom left in her car and asking about it, like her work name tag. So who really knows if you get this or not?

You probably wouldn’t. Damn, you already bought your own key ring and neck pillows for this car, and your mom called off from work for this---

“..you’ll be getting your license in a few days or so in the mail so continue checking for that.”

Your what? You stare at the man blankly as he hands you the sheet before unbuckling his seatbelt. You could tell he was confused at your blank stare, so he reiterates, “You passed. You have to go inside to get your temporary license, ‘cause the card one will take a while to arrive.”

You could have gone with a more sensible, mature choice of words. He always gushed about how he loved your wit whenever you both were writing or doing something with words. He would get this idea of a feeling he wants to put down, but it couldn’t fit in the tone he was going for, so he’d ask you for a word or a phrase that encapsulated all that. It would be a perfect fit most of the time; and if it wasn’t, he’d work around it and be stubborn about not changing it ‘till he has to (even if you assure him many times that you won’t get mad). You asked him once why, and he says so nonchalantly, as if he did not set alight fireworks and butterflies in your chest, that his works are collages of his feelings, memories, and the people he loved most.

But despite all that, you were just able to give the evaluator an “Oh my god?!”, complete with a gaping mouth; to which he responds with an emotionless ‘congratulations’ before shutting the door and walking away.

When you got out of the car— still in disbelief and in confusion— you hyperfocus on how your parking was too askew that it took two spots in the lot.

You inwardly groan as the fact that you can legally be incarcerated now for driving above the speed limit when you’re late for class start to sink in more.

Your mom would probably be so giddy once you meet her at the waiting area, carrying that tiny white slip that had ‘temporary license’ plastered across it, since she’s not going to pay for driving school anymore, plus the fact that she’ll be free from having to drive you to school and around the city anymore.

To be honest, you weren’t planning for it to end like this. You– no you and James– actually had the perfect plan months prior. Test day would be on the twenty-fifth. You’d go around town by the twenty-sixth to go get party supplies, groceries for dishes he wanted to cook, and order his cake for pickup the day after. Then on his birthday, twenty-seventh of March, You’d come over to the Potter house to celebrate with everyone, and before the day ends, you’ll drive him around San Francisco. You’ll both pretend to be tourists, joining the crowd of visitors as they marvel at the city’s popular spots, as if you and James didn’t grow up having these places a short drive away.

You love your home. Even with the everpresent traffic, lack of decent parking, and ridiculous prices of nearly everything the city sports, going home to the suburbs everyday provided balance. ‘We have the best of both worlds’, James would say. ‘We both can go out and be whoever we want in the city, but we still have the familiar quiet to go home to.’

He made loving this place easier— even if you can’t walk to the nearest McDonalds anymore since it’s a good drive away, far from having your old school, the library, the park, and a Walmart being in the same plaza back in your former suburb, a few minutes away from Los Angeles. Everything was more spaced out here, but you never felt the gaps in between destinations. You didn’t need to, especially when there’s always James, his beloved blue Chevy pickup he inherited from Monty for his fifteenth birthday, and his endless stories about football team practice that day or the most recent shenanigans Sirius and him had devised during Minnie’s AP English class, that kept you company.

You grew to love this place as much you did home. So much so that you never considered leaving, while James apparently did.

“Y/N, do you still have somewhere to go? I’m heading in.” Your mom says as she taps on your window, shaking you from your reverie. You got home a while ago. She finished unloading all the groceries from the back to the kitchen inside. Those were multiple trips back and forth, yet you never noticed. A cold breeze runs past you despite the closed windows and you shiver. Not this again.

Rolling down your window, you give her the best smile you can muster up. “You can go ahead, Mom. I’ll try to drive around a bit on my own, you know, for practice.” You throw in an awkward chuckle hoping it was convincing enough for her to let you go.

“Don’t go too far now, it’s getting dark. Be back for dinner.”

You give her a nod and a smile. You wonder if she knew why, but you appreciate her for not prodding. You don’t even know why you’re acting like this.

After circling your block for the third time, you decide to park the car under a willow tree, taking time and effort to park flush against the curb for no reason at all. You just think maybe somewhere, somehow, a familiar voice will pop up behind you and gush about your near-perfect parking skills.

It was, what, two months ago?, that you saw that car sticker on James’ Etsy cart that said ‘cute girls hit curbs’. It was right after a (semi-successful) driving session after school, and James decided that it was a parallel parking day. He had knowingly directed you to a busy city street, where the only available parking was street parking, and everyone seemed to get the memo of his evil agenda and parked irregularly, leaving you with little to no choice but to squeeze your mom’s family van in between them.

With a number of curb hitting that would’ve sent your mother’s insurance agent to consider hiking up prices just for the fact, you were close to tears.

James was quick to drop his teasing smirk as he saw how your face fell, dejected. With a warm smile, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently reassured you, 'Hey, you did this perfectly on your own a few hours ago, you got this, doll.”

“No, James,” you choke out, trying to stifle down the sobs down your throat. Someone honks behind you, and your body took it as a cue to start hyperventilating, the shivers making its way down the nimble fingers clutching the wheel hard. “I don’t think I can, there’s so many cars—”.

James was quick to roll down his window to gesture something to the other car. Could be an expletive to tell them to fuck off or a kind wave to tell them to go ahead (James could’ve easily done both), but the car moves away nonetheless, returning you both back to the earlier predicament.

He tried to redirect your attention back to him without touching you, nicknames and encouraging words leaving his mouth out of habit. He learned from past experiences that in moments where you get overwhelmed with something, touch could either jolt you back to him or spur on a full on panic attack. His attempts were futile, however, as you were too entranced by watching the side mirror closest to you, flinching each time a car passes the van, even making it lurch forward if the oncoming traffic goes too fast and too close.

Unbuckling his seatbelt and placing the car on park in quick succession, he reached over the console and gently cupped your face in both his hands, tilting your chin up to meet his soft hazel gaze. James had always looked intimidating; the most rambunctious one in his kindergarten class, the one who stood up against taller students that pick on the quiet ones, and once the growth spurt kicked in he quickly rose up the ranks, from little league to your magnet high school’s uber-selective football team.

But he also had the kindest of eyes, those precious ones where you don’t even have to look hard and wonder what they’re feeling as it provides a window straight to their soul. It’s always a gift to feel his gaze on you, to have the privilege of knowing where the seven tiny specks of green in each iris merge with the honey brown.

He gently cupped your face in both hands, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me, pretty.”

James’ best trait was not patience, both of you had established that when you met in middle school. But when he got to know you and your tender-hearted nature, he tried his damndest to learn how. It’s crazy to think how much time spent in love can change a person inherently. You could’ve met James right then and there, and think he’s a natural.

You shift your focus on his warm palms on your trembling cheeks, on his steady breathing. It slowed yours and soon became in sync with his. “There’s my girl. Let’s try again, hm? I'll guide you through it.”

Compelled by a mystical force, likely strong love and devotion to the boy who sat beside you, who looked at you like you’re capable of doing all things beautifully (one of which is parallel parking, apparently), you found yourself behind the wheel again with renewed vigor.

As you carefully edged the car towards the parking spot, James leaned over, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. “A little to the left,” he murmured.

“Turn the wheel slowly.”

Firm hand on your shoulder, his steady presence gave you confidence to make adjustments based on your gut. “You're doing great, love.” You couldn’t see, but you felt the smile in James’ voice.

Before you knew it, you were parked, albeit a snug fit. You heard shuffling, then you were wrapped in a tight embrace, bodies twisted in weird angles because you both forgot that unbuckling the belts were an option. “Knew you could do it, baby.”

You tried to throw some light punches to his chest despite your difficult position. “I still hate you for subjecting me to Geary street traffic.”

“Gotta throw you out on the deep end to learn how to swim!” he’d said, earning him a slap on the chest.

You laughed at that time, but maybe you should’ve taken that as a hint to what came next.

To kill time, you decide to take a picture of your temporary license and edit it for an instagram story.

You get more and more lost through pictures and stories posted, trying to forget what you saw, that you forgot why you opened the app in the first place.

You wished, during the driving lessons, that you’d bothered to ask him, not only how to yield for an unprotected turn but also to live without him. So that you can make the most out of your senior year. So that you can drive around San Francisco without lugging a heavy heart. So that you could write songs again that weren’t about loss. So that you could be okay now that he’s gone.

Mom says he’s not gone gone. He’s just off to college. You would be, too, soon enough. You could go to Yale too so you can be together. You give her a nod to satisfy her, to let her know it was something you’re considering; but in all honesty, you just wanted her to stop.

You and James weren’t perfect. There were ugly fights and soaked pillows and days spent without talk, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything better. You learned to finally befriend life because hatred was just too consuming to carry everyday. It was replaced with something bright and lovely you can carry around to keep you company. You’ve never felt anything remotely similar to it before. Somehow, someway, the warmth always came by when James was with you.

One night while laying in his bed, after a long session of application essay revision, he tells you that Sirius broke off his long-term relationship because of college.

“What, why?”

He shrugs. “They’re heading to different ones.”

You were waiting for more details but he remained silent. “Just because of that?” You laugh. “That’s dumb.”

Now it was his turn to ask. “Why’s that?”

“It’s just college, Jamie. It’s just like when we go spend the holidays or summers with family. We don’t break up. We work around it. Because we know it’s not permanent. Nothing worth ruining a good relationship over.” You scoff, shifting your gaze from his hazel eyes to the white of your ceiling. “What a waste, I actually thought they were it for each other.”

He was silent. You turned to face him and he just gazed at you with an unreadable expression. “We’ll make it work like we always did, right, Jamie?”

He kissed your forehead in response. “Always.”

That was six months ago.

Your knuckles turn white, a stark contrast to the black leather as you clutch the wheel as hard as you can. You could barely see through the tears that run uncontrollably down your cheeks.

How can he be so okay now that I’m gone?

You floor the brakes hard, flinging yourself forward before getting yanked back by the seatbelt. Some kid had kicked their red and gold striped ball towards the street.

“Sorry!” You wave at the kids, signalling that it was okay. That they didn’t just give you a heart attack right then and there.

You wipe your tears away in haste. It’s probably time to head home. Maybe these rogue feelings were just due to your sugar levels dropping, making both your mind and vision hazy.

But when you check your left if there’s something there you could hit, your eyes get caught on a familiar view.

The Potter house. Same as before. It’s almost as if he’d go barreling out the doors to meet you outside, envelop you into a bear hug, and spin until you both feel dizzy with laughter. Now, his bedroom’s dark. A reminder that he’s not there. Your Jamie isn’t home anymore.

You head back to your house for dinner.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x fem!reader #marauders era #marauders #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter oneshot #marauder x reader #young james potter

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sunny44 · 1 year ago

Text

Business party

Pairing: Max Verstappen x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: couple fight.

Summary: The night of the company party has finally arrived and Y/n was super excited to introduce her boyfriend Max to her work friends but unfortunately the night doesn't end as she would have liked.

Next Chapter

It was the day of the party for the company you worked for, you were super excited to attend since you would formally introduce your boyfriend Mason to your friends but at the last minute, Mason decided that he is no longer going.

Finally the day had come.

I was super excited for this party and even more excited to officially introduce Mason to my friends from work.

He was away training but would arrive on time to get ready, meanwhile I was getting ready for the party.

After showering and washing my hair I dried it and did some curls and as I was finishing my makeup I heard the noise from downstairs.

I finished with my lipstick and went downstairs wrapped in my robe to find my boyfriend in the kitchen.

"Hi love." I smiled and gave him a kiss. "How was the simulator?"

"It was good, tiring but good."

"Are you going to shower now so we won't be late."

"Late for what?"

"For the party."

"Oh I'm not going to the party." Just as he says this I feel the sadness hit me.

"What do you mean you're not going? I warned you months ago and you promised you would go with me."

"I know but I changed my mind, I don't want to go anymore. I'm tired."

"But Max you promised and..."

"I'm not going, can you just leave me alone? I'm tired from the day and I don't feel like going to this stupid party." He says rudely, and I shut up.

"You always do this, when it's something important to you I have to support you and go to those stupid Redbull events, but when it's something important to me you let me down like I don't matter to you. I always prioritize you and support you in everything so why don't you do the same thing for me?"

"I never made you go."

"I go to support you, and as my boyfriend I expected you to do the same thing for me."

"I already said I'm not going."

"Then I'll go without you."

I went back to our room and put on my skirt and blouse, the one that I had bought just to match his tie. I grabbed a jacket and my purse, went downstairs and got the car key from the door.

"You don't have to wait for me, I'm not coming home."

I slammed the door behind me and headed for the party.

I had to hold back tears many times tonight just because all my friends were asking about Max and I had to lie saying that he couldn't come, I didn't have the heart to say that he let me down because he was tired.

"So where is the much talked boyfriend."

Stacy, for sure one of the people I wasn't the least bit interested in introducing Max to, she hates me for some reason unknown to me, it's always been that way since I joined the company.

"He couldn’t make it, he got tired of the simulator."

"Oh yeah, he's an F1 driver." She says wryly. "What's his name again? If he even exists."

"It's Max and I don't have to prove anything to you, if you'll excuse me."

I left there and went to the bar, I honestly had lost all excitement about the party, the reason I wanted to be there was an idiot with me. And once again that night I felt like crying.

“Are you ok?" My friend Kylie asks.

"Yeah, just bummed Max couldn't make it."

"I'm sorry, I know you really wanted to introduce him to us."

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter anymore." She smiled sadly and I took the last sip of my drink.

"Are you okay to drive later?" She says pointing to my drink.

"Yeah, not only is this night sucking, but I'm still drinking a non-alcoholic drink.” She laughs. "Actually, I’m going home.”

"Are you sure? We can still dance and have fun."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up but I'm really not in the mood."

"All right, see you Monday."

"See you."

I didn't want to go home, I was mad at him and also because I said I wouldn't come back but my sister was traveling so I couldn't go to her apartment. When I arrived I left my heels on the door and locked up, went upstairs to our room and when I opened the door Max was lying down watching TV.

"Guess you weren’t so tired after all."

"Can we talk?"

"No, I’m too tired to talk." I said walking into the bathroom and locking the door.

I took off my dress and put on my pajamas, took off all my makeup and when I was done I left the bathroom taking my cell phone and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sleeping here."

"Baby I'm sorry I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses Mex, when I wanted you to listen to me you didn't, so I'm not going to stay here and listen to your stupid excuses after you ruined my night." He doesn’t say nothing. "I honestly still don't know why I’m still trying."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't stand feeling like I'm the only one who values this relationship anymore. I'm tired of F1 always coming ahead of me in this relationship.”

"That's not true." He stands up.

"Then why didn't you go today? Oh yes because you were tired of driving an imaginary car in that stupid simulator." He still in silent. "I work just as hard as you do Max, but I've never let my work get in the way of our relationship. But I don't think you care about me as much as I care about you. So maybe we shouldn't be together.”

I wiped the tear that ran down my cheek and left the room, slamming the door and going to sleep from the guest room.

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername stories

“It suck’s that my night was ruined.”

This will have a part 2 so let me know if you want to be tagged

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supernatural-thingz · 1 year ago

Text

On Fire

Part 2

Part 1

Part 2

Poly!lost boys x hellhound!reader

18+

Y/n sat quietly in the candle lit cave as her boys were out causing chaos. After some time had passed, she put her book down and decided to get cleaned up, her body still cased in ash from her shift earlier. She wandered through the caverns of the endless cave. It's really quite a fascinating structure. Some of the cave was mad up from this old chic hotel but other parts were formed over the years naturally and she loved the little pieces of nature hidden of the depths of their cave. Hidden away in the depths of the cave was a spring of ocean water that pooled in and made the perfect bath. The boys had put candles all around and Marko even snagged a few towels from some surfers he was harrasing on the beach. As she stepped into the room, it was dark. Not a single candle was lit but that's an easy fix. She flashed her eyes a crimson red and snapped her fingers together, emitting a flame around the room that lit all the candles. She smirked in satisfaction. Hellhounds could control fire and have incredible strength. Even more powerful than a werewolf but kind of similar. Y/n took her hair down and stripped off the random tshirt and sweatpants she had thrown on before entering the water. The ocean water felt cool on her skin as she scrubbed the soot from her body. Once she was clean of ash, she leaned against the edge of the pool just relaxing in the cool water.

It didn't last as long as y/n had hoped as she heard whoops and hollers echo through the cave. The boys were home. Dwayne was the first one to find y/n. "You know, if shifting causes you to have to bathe more, I'm all for it" he smirked as he peeled of his blood clad jacket and jeans before joining y/n in the pool. Y/n laughs and looks Dwayne over. He had blood all over him. These boys were messy esters. Even more so when they're pissed off. "Well considering how messy you all are, I think us all bathing more would be beneficial" y/n teases. Dwayne laughs as he gets closer to y/n and wraps his hands around her waist. Y/n studied his face. He had streaks of blood on his cheeks. She cupped water in her hand and washed away the red from his smooth skin. Dwayne watched her every move. He had never known such kindness. She was the kindest soul he had ever known and it still shocked him that he was theirs. Dwayne locked eyes with y/n and went to kiss her but they were both covered in a huge splash of water. "It was definitely a blonde" y/n said as she wiped the sea water out of her eyes. Marko now stood in the pool laughing his ass off. His curls now wet and crumbling apart making his hair look longer than usual. "I had to do it! It was too perfect of an opportunity!" Marko reasoned as he waded over to Dwayne and y/n. "Bullshit, you jealous little ass!" Dwayne bellowed as he grabbed Marko and dunked him under the water. Y/n shook her head and smirked at their antics before walking up to Dwayne and kissing his lips. "You know how jealous he gets, D." She teases knowing full well that Marko can hear her. Marko wasted no time striding over to y/n in the pool and smashed his lips into hers with such force that she hit the side of the pool. "I know my jealousy drives you wild, baby" Marko winks. "Excuse me but this is just rude!" Paul yells as he entered the room and kicked off his boots before making quick work of his clothes and joining the trio in the pool. "Starting the party without the best member?" Paul teased, grabbing y/n away from Marko. His eyes didn't land on her eyes like they typically did. Hid eyes were trained on the still fading scar on y/n's chest, right below her collarbone. Y/n grabbed his chin and picked his head up to meet her gaze. "I'm OK,Paulie. I promise." She reassures, quickly kissing his lips. He brushed his hand over her cheek and pushed her hair behind her ear. "I just worry about you, sweetness. I can't help it. I just wanna protect you from everything and anything. I want nothing to hurt you or pierce this beautiful skin." Paul leaned his forehead onto hers before taking a deep breathe. "I heal, hunny. I'm not as fragile as I look" y/n smirked before running her hands over Paul's shoulders. Paul immediately smiles "Oh I know you're not fragile, sweetheart. You can't be with us around. I'm sure we would of broken you by now if you weren't so tough." Paul winked before kissing her lips and diving into the pool to clean off his dinner. Y/n felt a presence and knew immediately who the feeling belonged to. She looked over at the doorway and David was leaning against it. His icy blue eyes watching the boys goofing around in the pool and you.

"Our pest problem has been taken care of, my love" David cooed as he entered the room and took off his blood stained clothes. He never broke eye contact with y/n as he entered the pool and made his way directly to her. He grabbed her hips as he got close enough and pulled her close. " Thank you for taking care of them. They were just gonna be a problem." Y/n said as she put her hands on David's chest. "They hurt our queen. We couldn't possibly let them just walk away" David responded as he held y/n in his arms. Y/n hummed as she felt safe in his arms. Surrounded by her boys. Everything felt right.

David swiftly caught her legs over his arms and put them around his waist. " I hear Paul made you a promise if you were good while we were gone and the cave's not on fire so I'd say you listened" David said as he slowly moved his hips, making his length tease against her. Y/n let out a hum that got all the other boys attention. "I..I just read my book....and took a bath." Y/n was able to answer breathlessly as David continued to move his hips, teasing her. "I'd say that counts as being good" David cooed before he captured her lips in a heated kiss and grabbed her ass with both hands. She swiftly lifted her up in the water slightly and slid his length into her. She let out a cry of bliss. Dwayne soon stood behind her, holding her up. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and started kissing the side of her neck. As David increased his pace, y/n leaned back into Dwayne more. Dwayne held her shoulders and reclined her back into the water so that she was laying on it, floating. Marko and Paul immediately came over and stared kissing her now fully exposed torso as Dwayne continued to kiss her neck and face. David rocketed his hips to meet hers and she bit her lip as her eyes turned red. "There you go,baby. Relax. Let us take care of you" Dwayne whispered in her ear. Her back arched as David continued at his quick speed. " Fuck this feels amazing" she gasped out as the boys just smirked. David clenched his jaw as he grabbed her hips with a bruising strength and rutted into her. David's eyes turned gold as his speed began to grow sloppy and y/n let out a moan as they released together. "Fuck Kitten. Feels like you bring me back to life" David groaned as he pulled out and trailed kisses up her stomach.

Paul was quick to take David's place between her legs. "You still with us,sugar?" Paul asked as he pulled y/n up so that her chest was against his. "You know it takes more than that to knock me out" y/n teases with half lidded eyes. She felt another pair of hands sneak around her stomach and looked over her shoulder to see Marko, grinning from ear to ear. "I think me and Paul have a plan to knock you out" Marko teased before kissing her neck. "Oh yeah?" She questioned, biting her lip. "Yeah,sweets. I think you deserve it after the day you've had" Paul adds as he smashes his lips into hers. She kisses him back,weaving her fingers through his long blonde hair. Paul then moves a hand down to her folds and his touch sends Shockwave through her whole body. "Fuck! Paulie please!" Y/n cried out begging him for more than just a touch.

He laughed a little before lining himself up with her entrance and rocking his hips forward but after that he stills his movement and moves his mouth to her ear. "You think you can handle me and Marko, sweetness? You gonna be a good girl while we tear you apart?" Paul teased with a pleased smirk. Paul was quite the tease when he wanted to be. Yeah most of the time he was a golden retriever goofball but times like these seemed to ignite his more dominant instincts and it was intoxicating. Y/n nods at a loss for words and Paul kisses her jaw as he starts to move his hips, dragging in and out of her slowly. He knew how to tease her. How to get her exactly where he wanted her. This woman was his world. A goddess. He wanted to treat her as such at any chance he got. Y/n's mouth remained open as she gasped at all the places Paul's length was hitting just right at this slow speed. But she wanted more. She pulled at the blonde vamps hair, unable to voice what she wanted as she was lost in the pleasure. Paul laughed as he let out a breathy moan. "Fuck yeah,baby. You want more?" Paul asked as Marko began biting at her neck from behind. "Yes" y/n groaned out. What she wasn't expecting was the feeling of Marko's hand feeling for her entrance and then him rocketing his hips,plunging into her in rhythm with Paul. Y/n lets out a screech and wraps her arm back towards Marko as she rakes he nails across his shoulder. "Shhh. Easy, Mi amore" Marko whispered as him and Paul stilled their movement and allowed her to adjust to them. "Fuck,sweets! If you keep squeezing us like that, we aren't lasting too long" Paul groans as he feels y/n's heat flutter against him. Once the boys felt satisfied that they had given y/n enough time to adjust, they both started rocking their hips in rhythm. Moans and groans came from all 3 of them as they moved together, the water around them splashing up at the momentum. Y/n's eyes turned red and her face started to smolder with a slight flame as she grabbed onto Marko with one hand and Paul with the other. "Ready,my love? Together OK?" Paul cooed with half lidded eyes. Y/n nodded as she threw her head back against Marko's chest and both vamps let out a moan while y/n's back arched at she let out a moan. "Fuck!" Marko exclaimed as he pulled out of her and tried to catch his breath (yeah he doesn't breath but old habits right?). Paul follows suit and peppers kisses over her face.

She looked drunk. She was in complete bliss. Exhausted but happy. Paul picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the pool where a towel clad Dwayne was waiting with a towel. Dwayne took her in his arms and wrapped the towel around her before carrying her out of the room and through the cave pathways to her bed. Well it was more their bed now since the boys preferred sleeping by her instead of in their usual spots. She was home for them. She was their safety. Dwayne laid y/n down in her bed and pulled the blanket over her towel clad form. Her eyes fought off sleep as she stared up at Dwayne. "But what about you?" Y/n asked with a voice full of sleep while reaching a hand out to him. Dwayne grabbed her hand and kissed it before laying down next to her and kissing her temple. "Later,Princess. Now you sleep." Dwayne anwsers as he pulls her onto his chest and notices how fast she falls asleep. Paul comes into the room not long after and curled up next to her, kissing her shoulder before nuzzling into her sleeping form. Marko then comes in and lays across her feet like a lap dog cuz let's be real he's just everyone's favorite rabid chihuahua. Finally, David joins his family laying on the other side of her as he observes the way she had fallen asleep in Dwayne's arms practically laying on him. Their little Hellhound.

#lost boys 1987 #poly lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys #poly!lost boys x reader #the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys fanfic #the lost boys 1987

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artiststarme · 2 years ago

Text

Pain's An Old Friend

Based on a prompt from @nburkhardt! I hope it met your expectations. Let me know what you guys think in the comments!

Now with a second and third part!

~*~*~*~

Steve was no stranger to hiding his own injuries. Growing up in the home that he did, it was practically second nature to hide unsavory things from people in order to protect the Harrington image. From a young age, he would go to school with his mom’s concealer painted high on his cheekbone to cover the evidence of his father’s anger. He’d hide his pain during practice when he sprained a ligament so his coach wouldn’t pull him from the Friday night game. He was well used to hiding his pain in front of people that could weaponize it.

After joining the Party though, Steve started to lower his guards. He’d speak freely about past injuries and slightly more loosely about his current ailments. He was still the babysitter though, the guy that the kids looked toward to protect them. He couldn’t be fully transparent about his migraines or the constant blurriness in his left eye.

One day though when the kids needed a ride to the arcade on Steve’s day off, he had to be honest with them. His brain felt like it was trying to escape the confines of his skull and his vision pulsated with every heartbeat.

“Hey, I’m sorry guys but I can’t today. My head is killing me so I need to just relax and wait for it to blow over. How about you guys ask Eddie? He got off at 4 today so I’m sure he could give you a ride.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Will were satisfied with his explanation. They wished him well, volunteered their moms to come drop off soup to him later, and got back on their bikes. Mike though was visibly annoyed. He hung back after the others and turned to face Steve with a glare.

“Seriously, Steve. You can’t do one thing to help us? It’s not even that far out of your way!”

“Dude, I already told you I have a headache. I’m not driving anywhere,” Steve tried to explain. He didn't know why Mike was so mad. Yeah, they’d wasted time biking to Steve’s house instead of directly to the arcade but it only added an additional five minutes to their commute. It would only take them about ten minutes to get there on their bikes, a completely reasonable distance.

“A headache? You know how pathetic that is? There’s people that are dying, Steve. And you’re complaining that your head hurts a little bit. You’re just useless!” Mike hissed at him.

And wasn’t that a surprise. He and Mike still weren’t on great terms, obviously, but he liked to think that they were making progress. To find out that they were still in the same position as they had been all those years ago when Steve was Nancy’s asshole boyfriend and Mike was her bratty little brother, was gut wrenching.

“Fine, I’ll give you assholes a ride. Let’s go guys. Leave the bikes, you can pick them up tomorrow. Come on, before I change my mind.”

The drive to the arcade was uneventful. They all made it to the arcade in one piece and no one said thank you aside from Will, as per usual.

The ride home however was a different story. The sun had started to set and Steve’s headache had devolved into a migraine. His vision was tunneling and he could hardly keep his eyes open against the pain in his head. He was taking one of the back roads home and was almost there when a shadow passed in front of his car. Steve’s left fender hit the being before he could turn the wheel and when he did, he steered the Beemer directly into a tree on the side of the road.

Steve’s head slammed into the steering wheel, hard enough to lacerate his temple and spill blood all over the driver’s side dash. Thankfully, he didn’t lose consciousness and his migraine wasn’t significantly worse than before so he was reasonably sure that he didn’t have another concussion, at least not a severe one.

Now, a normal person might walk to the nearest house and call the police or an ambulance. Steve though, was not normal. He picked up his keys, wallet, and sunglasses, and walked all the way home. It wasn’t too far, a mile at most but with his head hurting the way it did, it felt like forever. He would call Thatcher Tire tomorrow morning and get the Beemer towed then he would call his dad to beg him to cover the damages and everything would be fine. But the second Steve got back to his house, he laid on the couch and took a nap. He’d worry about everything else the next day.

~*~*~*~

Steve had forgotten that he made plans with Robin for today. He woke up to manic rambling that he was too tired to follow and his best friend pulling at his arms.

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled when she once again jostled him.

“Steve, wake up! What the hell did you do? You have blood all over your head and you weren’t responsive. You were supposed to come over to my house to pick me up so we could make cupcakes and watch movies! I walked over when you didn’t show and I had to walk in to find you dying on your sofa! What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Not dying and please stop yelling, my head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does, Steve! Your entire forehead is black and blue and there’s blood everywhere. Oh my god, I might actually throw up. Stay alert, I’m going to go throw up then I’m going to call Eddie for a ride since neither one of us has the cash to pay for an ambulance. Stay conscious or I will hurl all over you,” she promised.

True to her word, she went and threw up in the kitchen, grabbed some ice for his head, and then used the living room phone to call Eddie.

“Hey Mr. Munson, is Eddie there? It’s Robin Buckley… I know but I don’t have a license yet, I’m poor… Touché, Mr. Munson… Okay, great! I’ll see him soon then!”

She hung up the phone and returned to Steve's side. “Okay, he’s on his way so we just have to wait. We’re both going to give you a long talk about taking better care of yourself and not damaging any more brain cells, got it?”

He tried to nod at her but the miniscule movement only caused his vision to white-out and his eyes slammed shut. The last thing he heard was Robin screeching at him to wake up before everything went black.

~*~*~*~

When his eyes opened next, Steve was in a bare hospital room with both of his hands restrained. No, people were holding them. Upon further investigation, he noticed that Eddie was sleeping at his right side with his hands wrapped around Steve’s wrist and Robin was at his left with her fingertips pressed over his pulse point.

With both of his friends there, the feeling of security almost willed him back to sleep once again. But then he heard loud yelling coming from outside of his hospital room.

“Where is Steve Harrington?! I got a call about another head injury, is he alright? I will not calm down, that’s my kid and none of you goddamn idiots will tell me anything about him! Where is he?”

The door flung open to reveal Chief Jim Hopper in all of his furious glory. All of his anger melted into worry when his eyes met Steve’s.

“Hey Hop,” Steve told him with a small smile.

“Do not ‘hey Hop’ me. What the hell, kid? First I get a panicked call from Robin that you’re in the hospital again, then I get a call from Callahan that he found your car bent around a tree, and then I find out that I’m your emergency contact.” His eyes still held a hint of panic but now they looked tired too as if the events of today had aged him several years.

“Okay, it’s not bent around the tree. Callahan’s a fucking liar and I keep telling you so! I lightly bumped the tree. Lightly! Everything worked out fine! It’s all good, Hop.”

“Are you not hearing me? Do we have to get your hearing checked too?” Hopper laughed sardonically and threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Steve, you gave all of us heart attacks because you didn’t tell us that you had been in a car accident! And you could’ve died going to sleep like that with a concussion! You know better.”

“Look, in my defense, I didn’t know it was a concussion. And what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital,” It made sense to Steve but apparently not to Hopper or the now-awake Eddie.

“Steve-” Eddie whispered in confusion but Hopper’s screaming cut him off.

“You should’ve called someone! Me, Munson, Wayne, hell even Joyce! Wha-the-fu-goddam-ahh!” He stammered with feeling. “Why were you even driving in the first place? You were at home!”

“The kids wanted to go to the arcade and when I told them I couldn’t, Mike said that people had bigger problems than headaches. And he was right. I just wanted to do something useful and then it hit me all at once when I was driving home,” Steve shook his head. He should’ve taken a nap or something instead of giving them a ride then they wouldn’t be in this position right now.

“Of course it was Mike. It’s always Mike fucking Wheeler,” Hopper scoffed under his breath. His profound annoyance towards the kid continued. “Steve, you can’t listen to that bitch-ass kid! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Next time, call me and I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, well I will remember that for next time. Next time I have a migraine, I won’t give the kids a ride and I won’t crash my car lightly into a tree. Alright, when are they releasing me? I just want to go home and go back to normal,” Steve said.

Hopper and Eddie shared a look before Eddie woke Robin and lugged her from the room. Watching that display, he knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear and he didn’t.

Hopper chuckled humorlessly, “I’m detaining you. You’re coming home with me when they release you.”

“‘Detaining me’? For what? I didn’t do anything,” Steve asked him in confusion.

“For acting like a dumbass. You’re going to recover back at my place, Harrington. El and I are going to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not going to-” Hopper cut him off with a yell that made him jump.

“You’re detained, Harrington! No more arguments!”

“Hop, that’s kidnapping!” He proclaimed in outrage.

“You’re not a kid, it’s fine,” Hopper brushed him off.

“What- that’s not even, you can’t just force me to accept your help!”

“Watch me!” Hopper said indignantly. This was ridiculous, despite the evidence, Steve was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was an adult, dammit!

“Hopper, you can’t just hold me against my will. I-I have rights!”

“Yeah? File a complaint. I’m the chief of police and I’m basically your dad so I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not. Now, are you going to accept this so I can let your friends in and we can all eat Jello or are you going to keep arguing with me?”

Steve looked at him blankly for a moment before he yielded. “Jesus Christ, fine. You win.”

“I know kid, I always do.” He patted Steve’s foot and opened the door for Eddie and Robin to slink back in. “Alright, you better have gotten orange or I’ll kick you both back out.”

Steve had a lot to learn about accepting help and being forthcoming about his injuries. But with his dad, his boyfriend, and his best friend by his side, he had no doubt that he'd get there eventually. He didn't have any other choice.

Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @ghosttotheparty @jestyzesty @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper

#Hopper does indeed keep him captive at the Byers house for two weeks #Steve is over it day two and almost wishes he could go back to a life without parents #Hopper also makes Steve and Eddie keep the door open three inches and that's not working for anyone #I don't know what he hit and neither does he #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #will byers #chief hopper #officer callahan

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ohmtoff · 8 months ago

Note

we need more nsfw nerdy nick headcanons🫢

AAAAAA actually so happy you asked for more bc im kinda in love with nerdy nick now lmao (nsfw)

part 1 here

nerdy nick who decided to adopt a dog with you, naming it denji if it’s a boy or makima if it’s a girl.

nerdy nick who’s a part of a dungeons and dragons party that is about to start on a campaign. you better believe he has a pink dice‼️‼️‼️ he already made a long detailed background of his character (a tiefling sorceress) and he already sent it to his dungeon master. for this campaign, though, you decided to try to join and learn the game.

“Okay, so what’s your character idea?”

“Uhhh what about a warlock with a huge ass?”

on session 0 you were lost and tired an hour into the game, while on session 7 you were already in your character cosplay with nick and lasting 6 hours.

nerdy nick who was soooo scared of meeting your friends bc he was worried of being too much and too random and just too nerdy for your friends. he’d act like how he normally would when he first meet new people, making mundane small talk about your relationship and about himself, but you can see that after an hour in that he was exhausted by how he went so quiet.

noticing this you interrupted the convo to talk about the upcoming HoTD season, and you can see his face lighting up. one of your friends who watches the show would chime in and nick would excitedly start talking about it too, yapping about the targaryen lore, surprising but charming everyone of this new confident side of his. your friends also think he’s adorableee when passionate. you would do anything to not make him insecure of his interests anymore.

nerdy nick who got so horny seeing you cosplay as his favorite character for halloween that he made you keep the costume on when having sex. you had him exposed on his back that night, legs spread and high against your shoulders. “Fu—uck, oh fuck me harder, please,” he pathetically whined, and you loudly moaned, pounding harder into his hole, punching out loud but tiny ‘uh-huh!’s out of him with each thrust as drool slides down his chin. He absolutely looked well-fucked. his warm walls clenched as he came and shouted “Choso!” while he spurted across his stomach. The squeeze was enough for you to groan inside him, pumping him full of your warm cum.

“Did you actually just call me choso when you came?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

nerdy nick whose insecurities run deep bc not only did he grow up heavier than his brothers, he was also more invisible. he did have friends, but his tendency to ramble and lack of fashion sense made him less popular and desired. you can see it in how he always uses a top; be it in the beach, or sleeping, and sometimes even during sex. so when he met you he didn’t know what to do with all your compliments. he would just blush so hard and he’ll pretend to get mad at you like “shut uuuup! stop lying” and you’d unrelentingly smother him with kisses while calling him your “pretty boy” “handsome man” and all other praises that he deserves.

you make sure to make him know that he’s beautiful by worshiping the fuck out of his body. you’d pepper kisses from his thigh up to his tummy where he’s still covered by his shirt. it was one of those times when he’d not want to take off his shirt during sex because he felt more insecure than usual. you’d whisper mantras of praises along with the wet kisses, making him giggle and shudder bc your breath along the inside of his thigh tickled. “so, so pretty. how could you ever find it in yourself to not love this?” you emphasized the word with a bite of his thigh a strand away from his cock. you’d dedicate that night to just pleasing him, letting him fuck hard into your mouth, his hips ragged and desperately thrusting into your throat while you try to not gag on his big cock, your spit falling out of your mouth making his groin wet. you hands crawl up, up, up, driving his shirt upward to flick his nipples. at one point it gets too hot for him so he takes his shirt off and you smirked—success. his body curls and his words came out as broken sobs, wanting more. you pulled your mouth away which made him grip your hair in protest. you looked at the way his body glistened, his face flushed, his legs tremble, and you felt hungry. “Beautiful,” you panted. “So fucking beautiful. Drive me crazy with how beautiful you are. Can’t fucking believe you’re mine. Say you’re mine,” as you furiously fisted his angry red cock with hands soiled with his precum and spit. “i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yo—AHH!”

he never uses a shirt at the beach again.

a/n: woahhh wtf who wrote that

#this was longer than i expected #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #headcanon #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo fanfiction

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lilsispro · 23 days ago

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Idk if people made W2H OCs cuz everywhere i look there like not there except for DeviantArt and 1 tumbler post (which omg I LOVE THEIR OC!! AAA SUCH A COOL CONCEPT! It was a post by @cactusdraw) which actually suprised me how little of OC are in this fandom considering the fact that it was ard the time everyone crazed abt making OCs to put into their fandom (COUGH COUGH ME COUGH COUGH.) Sooo, i figured that uhhhh i would post my OC i made a year ago that i never had the confidence to show to anyone except for my friends, they said it was a good idea to post it! That was in May- now its October 😭, so ive FINALLY built the courage to post it after 5ish months of thinking abt it, i bring to u..

Burger

Yes yes yes ik goofy name, but i like it :3 (random note but, i hate how big i drew her neck 😭 i remember trying to fix it but it looked werid so i just left it 😭)

Alright, now for lore drop for her ig!

Burger was a 16-17 year old attending Black Sheep high school, (think thats the high schools canon name-) one day she was found dead, she then went to heaven, not to long after became a fallen angel and was sent down to hell (idk if fallen angels exist- i need to ask Erica but i know shes busy but i really wanna ask in her message box in her blog 😭.) Then you know got a job to haunt people to get people down there so when hell is fully renovated it can go as one would expect.

Very basic very simple, but thats not really detailed, heres ghe detailed version bellow here instead of the basic structure: (Warning mentions of abuse, violent acts, and underage drinking)

Burger grew up in a not so stable household to say, parents were restricting, abusive, unfair, all the bad lables for crappy parents who basically to say failed at their job as a parent. So she mainly grew alone in her room learning guitar (base), and how to cook for herself and bake. She joined a band thats known around school for being cheap and decent. She also had a crush on a former band mate named Hidey. Since their band is known they have some form of social reputation around there, say in the middle of the social status of the school reputation system. One faithful day they got a commission to play at Zacks GFs party (im gonna assume he has one since hes a jock) for a few hours, they accepted. When Burger got home that day she went to go head out but then had a argument with her dad and got her guitar smashed. She ran out the house mad asf and used a near by phone booth to call her friend to get a spare guitar for her, they get the guitar and hwad to the party. They perform a few songs, everyone's happy, they get offered to stay so thru do so they dont seem rude. As Burger partied, Zacks GF dragged her to her room to speak privately, they get in the room, have a few drinks of wine after raiding the liquor cabinet a while back in the party, Zacks GF started to act a little of and before burger could say anything abt it, she gets pinned down onto the bed and gets her head slashed off. Turns out, Zacks GF had red punch looking similar to wine while she had wine,and also turns out Zacks GF hated her guts for one reason. A middle school crush on Zack. The most stupidest reason to have a grudge or kill someone over. So then she got to heaven and got a job as a guardian angel, sucked at that not even showing up to her job and instead did sinful like acts in heaven without knowing and got sent to hell becoming a fallen angel and getting a job to haunt a girl named Maria (which my friends OC) and drive her to suicide.

SO MUCH WORD OMG! But thats the detailish version of it! Maria is my friends OC like i said, she told me i could put her in so yeah. Also they dont have the best bond, simialr to socks and jons but instead of one being a joyful teasing demon, burger is a sarcastic ass, and Maria is a depressed teenager that annoyed by her demon. So basically Jonathan and Jonathan. They have some sentimental moments (AND GAY ASS MOMENTS) where they get a little connection to each other. Burgers has 2 canon connections to 2 canon characters, one with jon which is just rivals and same with sock. She basically hates their guts and constantly tries to persuaded Maria to mess with jon but failes horribly. Essentially shes a mix of Jon, Jojo, and sock in th slightest ways with the simialr characteristics/traits and the general way of acting.

Omg thats so much words i feel so bad for writing this much but ima end it off here! Also, other drawings of her

I wanna start drawing her again cuz i got the idea to put her ina a heather chandeliers costume for fun but i cant draw her hair the same way i did a while back. If i find the original drawing of her ill edit the post and pu it in! For now cya!!!

#w2h #w2h2 #w2h film #welcome to hell film #w2h fanart #w2h OC

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wsancho · 4 months ago

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Rambling about Setzer’s “recovery” from depression

Thanks to @ci-ah and @halogenwarrior for the interesting Setzer convos. Now I have theories.

I had dipped my toes a little bit in Setzer territory because I wish he was given more screen time and development. I believe FFVI is masterfully written (not perfectly written, but what it does well is simply outstanding, with very little to pick apart), so I’m more tempted to find the meaning of what the game gives us, than to look down on it as “coulda-woulda-shoulda been better if blank”. There’s always room for improvement (in everything), but I just want to make sense of what is 😌 And my shtick at this point is to pull theories out of my ass, so...

We get very little information about Setzer, and the more I think about it, the more it feels that this is by design more than neglect. We meet him and he joins us (because why the hell not?), then the world goes to shit. Next thing we know is that he’s been drinking his life away, so we ask him to join us and he does (again, because why the hell not?). He is quite easy to sway, but recovering from his depression after one pep talk makes the whole situation feel unnecessary. If he is nothing but the means to an end, then why bother giving him that little character moment? So I'm gonna assume that he is more than just that. This is not the “miraculous” resolution of his inner conflict, it’s a clue to his character.

Another awfully convenient thing about Setzer in World of Ruin is that we find him at Kolingen, of all places. But he has no known connection to that place or its people. Is this pub convenient for some reason? Maybe he was nearby after the cataclysm, maybe they got cheap alcohol, maybe this is the only pub that still allows him in… But the game gives us nothing to come up with those types of speculations. This town happens to be the closest to the new airship Daryl’s tomb. This is another clue, but we don’t yet know that Daryl is dear to him. As it turns out, Setzer is the type of character that can only be fully understood in retrospective after having obtained all the bits of information. It takes obsession repetition.

He’s a particularly difficult one because we only know his deliberately crafted persona, not much about him is concrete. If I were to take his reaction as is, I gotta assume that he’s not recovered, he’s just being Setzer; and from the moment we first met him, he’s never been well. He still isn’t.

I believe he was there because he meant to pay Daryl a visit, but he never gathered the courage to do it (he tells us he couldn’t even stand looking at The Falcon after having it restored); and by the way he’s been going about life in the past year, he doesn’t have any kind of resolve to do anything, let alone face the ghost of his friend.

I do not believe he would want to talk at a grave as if he were talking to his lost friend; and I also don’t believe he had any plans to fly again. My take is that he spent that year courting death, thinking about making his final resting place right next to Daryl. The whole “crawl into a hole and die” thing is not as easy as it sounds: decay will drive you mad before actually killing you, to the point that it’ll make you want to live. Setzer wants out, but couldn't bring himself to actually do it (this takes determination and focus). He keeps on, but he's not at the point where life itself would kick him out of his mental state (this happens when survival is uncertain, at which point depression wouldn't even factor in).

When we find him wallowing in his misery he’s understandably reluctant to join the party, but out of nowhere he is reinvigorated and makes a proposal that involves going to that elusive place where he really wants to be. He has not recovered, he livens up because now he’s got the encouragement he needed to make his way out. His friends will get the wings they need, and he will get his own set of real ones. Everyone wins… But then one thing lead to another: he was talking about things he couldn’t even mention before, and he found himself on the deck of The Falcon showing his friends the way, and then the ship took off and his friends were on a mission feeling hopeful once again... And his ass didn’t stay behind like he had planned 😒 D’oh!

In my mind he simply got carried away by the enthusiasm his friends showed, and wanted to make sure they had what they needed. He’s a bigger mess than he was before, but he’s efficient in sweeping shit under the rug and keep going through the motions. I think his inner conflict remains there when visiting the tomb, but would have to be addressed at some point (offscreen) because he's a time bomb. From a character perspective his quick reaction gave me enough to ramble says something about him: it doubles down on his recklessness and on his ability to pull through for others. His anguish is real but his apathy is fake ❤️

#ffvi #ff6 #final fantasy 6 #final fantasy vi #setzer gabbiani #headcanon #fan theories

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bookwormjust · 11 days ago

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Hobbit hole (established relationship with Kili, first night with the dwarves)

The night is crisp as you arrive at the hobbit’s home, Bag End, the wind biting at your skin, but there’s a warmth in your heart that makes it easy to ignore. You’ve been traveling with the Company for days now, always near Kili’s side, though the destination has finally brought you to a quaint, unexpected hobbit hole deep in the Shire.

You stand outside for a moment, adjusting your cloak, before you hear the familiar sound of Kili’s voice from inside. With a fond smile, you push open the door and step into the bustling, crowded scene within.

The sight that greets you is pure chaos: dwarves packed into every corner of the cozy hobbit home, eating, drinking, and causing a general ruckus. There’s laughter, arguments over food, and the clatter of tankards against the wooden table. And in the middle of it all, looking utterly bewildered, is Bilbo Baggins himself, his wide eyes darting from one dwarf to another as if trying to make sense of the invasion.

Kili is the first to spot you. His face lights up the moment he sees you standing in the doorway, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “*Amrâlimê!*” he calls out, his voice filled with affection, cutting through the noise.

Before you can say anything, Kili bounds over to you with the energy and enthusiasm that is so characteristic of him, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you in a circle. The other dwarves cheer, clapping and raising their mugs in greeting.

“There you are!” Kili says, setting you down with a wide smile, his eyes twinkling. “I was wondering when you’d get here. Couldn’t stand the thought of you missing all the fun.”

You laugh, swatting him lightly on the arm. “Fun, is it? You call this chaos *fun*?” You gesture to the mess around you—broken plates, food strewn everywhere, and poor Bilbo looking on the verge of a panic attack.

Kili shrugs, his grin never fading. “It’s not *real* chaos until you join in.” He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I missed you.”

“I was only gone for a moment, Kili,” you chuckle, your heart warming at his affection. “But I missed you too.”

Before Kili can say more, Fili approaches, clapping his younger brother on the back. “Quit hogging her, Kili. Let the rest of us say hello.”

Fili gives you a warm smile, though there’s always a bit of teasing in his gaze. “Good to see you again. I’m glad you’ve come to keep this one in line.” He jerks his thumb toward Kili, who feigns offense.

“*In line*? I’m perfectly well-behaved,” Kili retorts, though the gleam in his eyes says otherwise.

Dwalin, seated at the far end of the room with a mug of ale in hand, raises his drink in acknowledgment when he spots you. “Good timing, lass,” he rumbles. “We’re about to drive the hobbit mad, I reckon.”

You smile, stepping further into the room as Kili takes your hand, leading you to the table where the others are seated. “That’s not hard to believe,” you reply, glancing toward Bilbo, who is staring at you with wide, startled eyes, clearly confused about the number of people crowding into his home—and now there’s another one.

“Excuse me,” Bilbo pipes up, his voice hesitant but polite as he approaches. “I—uh—didn’t realize we were expecting... quite so many guests?”

“Don’t worry, Master Baggins,” you say with a reassuring smile, extending your hand to him. “I’m just here to keep an eye on Kili. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t cause too much trouble.”

Kili laughs beside you, giving Bilbo a playful wink. “She’s lying. She’s the one you really need to watch out for.”

Bilbo takes your hand cautiously, shaking it with a bewildered nod. “Right... well, um, welcome, I suppose.”

The evening wears on in a blur of laughter, food, and more than a few spilled drinks. Kili never strays far from your side, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as the two of you banter with the others. Even Thorin, with his usual air of seriousness, gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment, his approval of your presence clear in the way he doesn’t intervene in the jovial chaos.

At one point, Kili leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “I’m glad you’re here. Couldn’t imagine going on this journey without you.”

You look up at him, meeting his warm brown eyes, and smile. “I wouldn’t let you.”

And though the road ahead is long and dangerous, for now, you are surrounded by warmth, laughter, and love—the perfect company to begin the journey of a lifetime.

#the hobbit #kili durin #kili #imagine the hobbit #fili and kili

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tumbleweed-run · 1 year ago

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Would you by any chance want to try writing Gale x Astarion x Halsin 👀 ? The vampire sandwich art by draxoplasm on twitter just lives rent free in my brain lol. I really don’t have a more specific request because I’m curious to see what you would write, if you want to write this prompt at all. Have a good day!

WOULD I EVER (I also know the exact art you mean)

Gale shouldn’t be as hard as he is watching his partner kissing another person. Kissing so passionately that both parties are moaning into each other’s mouths. But he is. He’s so hard it’s beginning to hurt, and everyone still has their clothes on. As if that’s not a little pathetic, though perhaps less pathetic than the fact that he’d agreed to it. And then promptly had several second thoughts.

Not that he’d voiced these thoughts to Astarion, or Halsin. Which, now, he was glad of.

“Do you wish to join us, Gale?” Halsin asks, somehow sounding calm despite everything going on.

Astarion throws a coy smirk over his shoulder. “Yes, wizard,” he purrs and extends a hand backward, “come.”

Gale groans at the innuendo, mostly because of its effect on him. He tentatively steps forward until his body is pressed against Astarion’s back. Now, there’s no denying the effect they’re having on him. His cock is now nestled against Astarion’s ass. Astarion grinds back against him, a happy noise escaping his lips, before he grips the back of Halsin’s neck and drags him down into another kiss.

From this close, Gale can hear the slick sounds of their mouths coming together, the little panted breaths from Halsin as Astarion forgets that the mortals need to breathe. The sounds are enough to drive him mad, his hips jerking forward to grind against Astarion. Another, please noise from Astarion passes from his mouth and into Halsins. His hand sneaks back to grip Gale’s thigh, encouraging him to rut against him more. Gale buries his head into the crook of Astarion’s neck as he does just that.

He busies his own mouth into trailing kisses against the pale flesh beneath him. Astarion jumps a little when he does. The vampire’s sensitivity to having his neck lavished has always amused Gale a little. Once Astarion had assured him that he had no ill feelings about it, it was something he took great advantage of.

A giant hand grabs onto Gale’s and drags it forward so it’s trapped between the two men in front of him. Gale is momentarily dazed at how much larger Halsin’s body seems at this moment. He’d never been this close to the druid before. He feels dwarfed all of a sudden. For a moment, he rests his hand against Halsin’s clothed chest, just adjusting to the sensation of touching two people like this.

Halsin moans, and Gale realizes he’s positioned his thumb against the druid’s nipple. With more bravodo than he actually feels Gale intentionally flicks the pad of his thumb against the hardened nub. Haslin quite literally growls at the sensation, surging forward until there’s no space between any of them.

“Gods,” Astarion moans, having finally decided to let Halsin breathe, “I worry that thing might split me in half.”

It’s Gale’s turn to groan when he understands what Astarion is talking about.

Halsin chuckles, “I promise I will not turn it on you unless you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“He wants you to.”

Their words are said in tandem, earning another deep rumble of laughter from Halsin.

“We’ll get to that,” Halsin promises even as he takes a step back from Astarion.

With surprising grace for a man of his size, Halsin sunk to his knees in front of Astarion. He rested his hands on the vampire’s thighs before looking up. “Is this okay?”

Astarion nodded in agreement quickly. Then Halsin turned his gaze to Gale. “Gale?” he prompted.

Gale couldn’t help but smile a little at the fact that the druid was also looking for his permission despite the act not involving his body. It made the “yes,” that came from his lips all the easier to say.

Halsin quickly untied Astarion’s pants and pulled them down just low enough that the vampire’s cock sprung free. Gale hooked both of his arms beneath the other man’s, pulling him against his chest. Astarion tensed for just a moment before he relaxed against Gale’s chest. In this position Gale was able to look over Astarion’s shoulder and watch everything going on, which was exactly why he’d done it.

Without warning or hesitation Halsin swallowed Astarion’s cock down. Astarion groaned loudly, one of his hands moving to thread into the mess he’d already made of Halsin’s hair. Halsin’s hands wrapped around Astarion’s thighs and pulled him towards him as he bobbed on his cock.

It was Gale’s turn to groan, his hands eagerly pushing up Astarion’s shirt so he could touch the skin beneath. He ran his hands slowly up the planes of his stomach. Slowly Gale dragged his fingers over the harden nubs that were Astarion’s nipples. Astarion’s moan at the sensation quickly morphed into a hiss when Gale turned his soft caresses into two sharp pinches of the flesh.

“Hells,” Astarion moaned as he dropped his head back against Gale’s shoulder.

Gale kept up his ministrations, alternating between soft caresses and pinches. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Halsin though. The druid was unashamedly moaning as he sucked Astarion’s cock. Clearly he was enjoying himself and didn’t care who knew about it.

Apparently Halsin could feel he was being watched because he pulled off from Astarion with a lewd pop. Astarion groaned but was quickly placated when one of the druid’s massive hand’s began pumping his cock. Halsin held Gale’s gaze, and for once Gale didn’t drag his eyes away. Whatever Halsin saw earned Gale a soft grin before the druid slowly lowered his mouth to Astarion’s cock. He didn’t break eye contact with Gale as he once against pulled the vampire into his mouth.

Gale groaned, hips thrusting forward to once again rut his cock against Astarion’s ass.

“Yes,” Astarion moaned, his free hand reaching back to grasp Gale’s hip, its twin still buried in Halsin’s hair.

Gale shamelessly ground his cock against Astarion as he watched. He could feel the vampire’s muscle draw tight, soft panting noises rustling the hair by Gale’s ear. Eagerly Gale delivered another pinch to one of Astarion’s nipples.

“Shit,” Astarion rasped as his back bowed.

Gale moaned as he watched Astarion spill down Halsin’s throat. Even in the dim light he could see the muscles of the druid throat working as he swallowed everything Astarion gave him. Halson continued working the vampires cock until Astarion tugged him off by his hair. He grinned up at the two of them, his smile feral enough to remind Gale of the bear they’d met.

“What’s next?” Halsin asked.

#Gale x Astarion x Halsin #astarion x halsin #astarion #gale of waterdeep #halsin

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joannaliceevans-fanficblog · 9 months ago

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Evermore: Part. 4

Warnings: Tissues are needed for this chapter.

Listen to this song, as you read this chapter:

Time McGraw Please Remember Me

Amazing Grace

I also wanted thank my babes @hollybee8917 for this wonderful Mood Board!

The room started to fill as family members and friends came to pay their respects to your husband. His friends in the Army, Sam and Rachel were present. Each one greeted you with hugs and sympathy. Your daughter, Chloe, was thankfully asleep in her stroller. In the background, were photo memories. In the table next to Ari, were the sentimental things. His beloved Boston Red Sox hat, car keys to his truck you hate driving, and a photo of your wedding.

At this point, you did your best to be happy. You tried to fill your thoughts of the happy times with your husband. You always had good memories with Ari like the day you first met him when you were just a young girl at a birthday party. You were being picked on by a girl named Audry when you didn’t do anything. Ari came to your rescue and since then he along with Andy had become best of friends with you.

There are so many memories that you can talk about and all of them made you smile. After the greetings were done, Andy went up the podium and everyone in the room took a seat. He cleared his throat and looked around the room, “Hello everyone, if you don’t know who I am by now, that’s okay. My name is Lieutenant General Andy Barber. Or just known as Andy. I’ve known Ari since we were both little kids. Our families would attend parties and we would sneak away to play legos. We went to the same elementary school, middle school, and High School. As kids, we both made a pact that we would join the military. He wanted to go to West Point and I wanted to join the Air Force. And we did.”

Andy paused and wiped his eyes, “Throughout the years, we supported each other. I was there when he graduated from West Point and he went to my graduation at the Air Force. Ari was a man of great honor. He would do anything for anyone that he was close with, and he even got me out of trouble in our younger days. As I did the same. Ari had told me once that he fell in love and I looked at him, and I asked who it was. I didn’t expect him to say Y/N. I didn’t believe him at first, but when I saw them together one day, it came together. The love he had for her was so strong. When he told me that he was going to be a father, after trying for so long, I had never seen anyone so happy. But now, my best friend is gone. He died for this country and he died so that his daughter and his wife could have a better life. Ari, buddy. I’m going to miss you, your stubbornness, your obsession with beer and everything in between.”

Andy then took a seat next to you. You took a moment for yourself before getting up.

You’re normally not like this, but your hands start to shake. You're used to talking to large groups of people, a preschool teacher. You took a deep breath and let it out, “Hi everyone, I'm Ari’s wife Y/N Levinson. I’ve known Ari since I was a young girl. Our families went to the same parties, and we all went to the same school. I was younger than the two, but as Ari would tell me I was a monster when I got mad and I always act older than my age. Ari was a genuine, caring, and loving man. I knew that I was in love with him when I needed to be picked up from a friend's house. I was tipsy, and my boyfriend at the time had dumped me. Ari was in town from his deployment. He bought me food from McDonalds because I kept insisting that french fries are the best when piping hot. He took me back to his house and we sat on his rooftop. We talked all night and I ended up sleeping in the guest room in his house. He took care of me the next morning. He knew all the things I loved, and without me telling him, he knew exactly what I needed, when I was feeling down or when I was having a panic attack. His voice was always calming for me.”

You paused, sniffed and wiped your eyes, “We married young, but that didn’t stop us. The times when he was gone for 6 months at a time were hard. Ari absolutely hated it when I ate on the couch. I was a messy eater and crumbs were always on the couch. His big GMC truck, that he would purposely block my car, so he would make me use it. Even when he knew that I hated that truck. So, in return, I would park his truck in the garage and leave my Outback behind it. He would call when he can. Emails were the only way I could get a hold of him when he didn’t have access to a phone. There were times when he surprised me by coming home early. If I could live in those times again. The last thing that Ari told me was that “Angel, I can’t wait to see you this Friday. I have plans for a vacation for us and Chloe. I love you Ms. Levinson.”

You paused and this time you couldn’t continue. You tried, but all that came out was gibberish. Holly and Andy came up to the podium and they both hugged you. You gave yourself a few minutes then you cleared your throat, “I don’t know what I will do now that you’re gone. Your baby girl will be without her daddy. But I promise you that she will not forget you. Rest easy, my Ari Bear. Sarge is waiting for you.”

The next morning was the day that you were dreading. You didn’t get any sleep and Chloe was up the whole night just to add to the stress that you were already under. Your family, Andy, and Holly stayed the night so that you wouldn’t be alone. You found yourself up before anyone else and went downstairs to make yourself a cup of coffee. The house was quiet. You were used to it, but it’s different this time—empty, full of heartache, and without Ari.

The moment you got to the kitchen, you smelt the scent of breakfast and coffee brewing. You walked into the kitchen to see Andy, Holly, your parents, and your extended family all around. Even Chloe was in her high chair, eating her breakfast. As you walked in, you stood there with all your emotions pouring out again. Andy looked up from his coffee and saw you. He immediately put his mug down and went to your side.

“I know, I know-” Andy said, as he hugged you.

You held onto him, and your mom went to your side as well, “Honey, I know it's hard and that’s why we are here to help you. You can’t do all this on your own.”

Your mom said as you pulled away from Andy. You wiped your eyes and sighed.

“I know, I’m just overwhelmed with emotions. I didn’t get any sleep last night, because Chloe wouldn’t go down and-”

“I know, honey, that’s why we all let you sleep in a bit more. Come have some breakfast, we can clean up here, while you get ready.”

You sighed once more and let go of Andy. You then looked towards him and let out a giggle, “Um, sorry about your shirt.”

Andy looked down and he smiled, “Oh don’t worry about it. It’s only a shirt. “

Despite everything that you're going through right now, a simple laugh warmed your heart for that brief moment. You wiped your eyes once more and then took a seat at the counter. Your dad handed you a cup of coffee and your mom placed down a plate of eggs, turkey bacon, hash browns, and two slices of toast with some butter.

You didn’t feel like eating, but you had to. You haven’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday. You’re going to need all the energy for today.

You sat on the floor of your daughter's room, as she laid down. She’s fresh from a bath and you were dressing her. A little black dress with white stockings and a black bow.

“Who’s a pretty girl? Yes, you are!” You say, tickling her sides and she lets out a loud squeal.

Once she was done, you scooped her up onto your hip, and hurried down the stairs. By the time you got downstairs, everyone was ready. Your mom took Chloe from you and you went to get her baby bag. You made sure that she had extra diapers, milk, snacks, and her food. Once you did, you placed on your shoes and were out the door.

Locking the door behind you, you went to your Subaru where Andy was waiting along with your mom and Holly. Your dad and the rest of your family in another car. The drive would be an hour to get there.

“Are we going to the church first then to the cemetery?” Your mom asked.

“Yeah, a private ceremony, then to the burial at the National Cemetery. Father Duncan will meet us there.”

One Hour and 15 minutes later…

Andy entered the Massachusetts National Cemetery, where her extended family, Sam, Rachel and his platoon. The army guards, and along with the Army Band. It wasn't long, when the carriage pulled up.

The moment you got out of the car, reality hit you again. You kept telling yourself this is a sick dream and you would wake up and your husband would be right next to you. But it wasn't.

Your mom had Chloe in her arms, as you walked up to the carriage where Major. Sam was a Captain. Rachel.

“Hi Sam,” you greeted him.

Sam gave you a sympathetic smile and hugged you and to the same with Rachel.

“How are you holding up?” Rachel asked. You let out a small sigh and tried not to cry.

“I'm hanging in there.” You say.

Before you could say anything else, Father Duncan came up to you and let you know that it was time. You turned around and the Hearse pulled up.

The Army Honor Guard went into formation and marched towards the Hearse. As the casket was pulled out, you felt your heart tighten with pain. You watched as they marched towards the carriage. Once he was in place, you stood behind the guards. Amazing Grace from the bagpipes started and you marched on.

#ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #joann's evermore

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teethkid67 · 1 year ago

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you begin your sunday on the couch, dress shoes still on, with a headache and a handful of stale gummy worms from the party last night. schlatt begins his with a cigar, and quackity starts with his arm as an ashtray. fundy is outside picking shotgun shells and fireball bottles out of the grass before you've even had time to say good morning.

it is not a good morning. dark like chew tobacco and slow as tar you realize no-one is coming to save you anymore. quackity won't look you in the eye, but he bites his cheek to keep his grin down as his gaze roams the walls like he can't wait to tear the place apart.

schlatt is the first to take something off the wall: an old, ugly painting wilbur picked up at a homegoods a million years ago. something he surely never gave much of a shit about, but you still flinch when schlatt lifts it from the nail and instructs you to get a garbage bag. but you fetch one and hold it open for him and then, when you put up no fight, and fundy is still outside, and quackity is still all shark smile, he tells you to start cleaning.

that is what it takes for them to begin picking your house to the bones. its methodically at first, dumping old takeaway boxes and draining vodka bottles, then harsh and uncaring like a flood or a struggle, toppling lamps and breaking mirrors. you dutifully pick up solo cups and half-empty pretzel bags and just as dutifully ignore anything that's not evidence of a party. eventually this catches up with you when schlatt tells you to kick it into fuckin' gear, kid, and jerks his chin at the fucking telephone of all things, this place isn't gonna clean itself.

a few minutes later quackity hands you an armful of everything that used to be pinned to your white fridge, looking a little sheepish but frankly not all that guilty. an old worksheet of fundy's is whats at the top of the stack, sunbleached from the window above the sink and with a broken chunk of now-gummy magnet stuck to the page.

WRITE about a time you had to make a difficult decision, it reads in big letters. explain what the decision was and what choice you made. At the top is a big, circled 100.

report cards and sticky notes and novelty magnets are joined by your vomit in the big bin at the curb. with your hands on your knees you take inventory. theres a box of shampoo and soap bars taken from the bathroom, and a bag of bedsheets and pillowcases. theres schlatt's car in your driveway and it makes your heart jackrabbit. wilbur doesn't drive. even if he did, his car wouldn't be out front.

you go back inside and take on the rest of the house with a newfound sense of numbness—emptying your stomach had probably helped. fundy has appeared again, and you help him bag up the books that schlatt had swiped off the mantle to make room for his shotgun. no matter what you do, he won't say a word to you.

eventually you are both led by an eager quackity to the backyard shed, where he hands you a hatchet and fundy a hacksaw and tells you to take down the fence.

schlatt says no more fence, he says, why would we need a fucking fence? so we gotta take the stupid thing down.

you swallow your pride with globs of spit and swing for the support beams so fundy, who quickly abandoned the hacksaw, can tear out the boards with his bare hands. he's mad, if the look on his face and the way he pries at the panels are any indication. at who is anyones guess. you're starting to think it might not be schlatt. quackity arms himself with a chainsaw and has a great, violent time laughing and breaking the wood into manageable sizes for your fireplace.

schlatt comes to lean against the railing on your raised porch and watches the three of you work, smoking what you think is his third cigar of the day. in his other hand is tommy's favorite glass, about a third full with whiskey and ice.

he and quackity shout over the roar of the chainsaw about next steps; living room paint color, new sheets for the bed, what to make for dinner. your arms shake and the afternoon sky darkens with clouds. when the temperature drops and the sky begins to spit down rain, schlatt and quackity duck inside with a shout to finish up out there.

by the time the fence is gone, the sun has set behind the woods, you're soaked to your skin, and your fingers are blue with cold and red with blood blisters. you collapse on the couch–the same one you've slept on for almost as long as you can remember–and shut your eyes against a living room you no longer recognize. fundy disappears into his bedroom and comes back in a set of dry clothes. quackity frowns and tells you to get up, you'll ruin the upholstery, then offers you a slice of mostly-cold pizza.

you slide to sit on the floor instead and pick the onions and bell peppers off the piece of pizza. your stomach turns. thuds and bangs echo through the house, and then its a terrible jerky screech as schlatt and quackity drag wilbur's old executive desk down the hall and through the front door. the corners dig lines into the linoleum and papers and knickknacks are strewn through the whole house.

there's tax records in there, you say, watching a wheat penny skid beneath the couch. they're in the second drawer on the left. and probably the deed, too.

schlatt makes a dismissive noise. don't need 'em. he doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

as they're turning it through the front door, you watch schlatt grab a silver ring from a rolled-open drawer. he turns it over in his hand before passing it to quackity, who slips it on his finger and examines it under the light. don't get any ideas, honey, schlatt grumbles, and quackity squawks something about schlatt running out on him as they push the desk the rest of the way through the door. they both cackle as it tumbles down the front porch stairs.

you lean forward to pick up an old microwave manual and a receipt for a goodwill donation. for a moment, you can almost pretend you're just spring cleaning while wilbur files your stupid taxes; tommy shredding shit you don't need anymore and threatening to shove your fingers into the blades; fundy sorting grocery receipts. then schlatt slams the front door shut, and the house shakes, and they laugh the whole way down the hall to wilbur's room, quackity still watching the ring sparkle as he turns his hand this way and that. their conversation grows muffled behind the locked bedroom door.

you stare down the hall from your place on the floor. the rain rattles against the house. there're splinters in your hands. you feel like you missed your opportunity to cry about it all, so you finish your pizza instead, even the crusts. then you pull yourself to you feet, socks squelching in your dress shoes, and grab another trash bag and your hoodie from the coat closet.

slowly, you creep through the front door and down the steps, past schlatt's pontiac, and begin hunting through the bags and piles of your whole life for anything you can save.

#block party #things i make #dsmp #dream smp #tubbo #dream smp fanfiction #i dont write that often anymore and this is only a second draft bjt honestly thats more than i used to do anyway so. im pleased enough #happy november 16th heres a piece about manberg beginnings in block party #second person pov #my writing

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miss-celestia13 · 1 year ago

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For Your Entertainment

Jake x MC Smut One Shot

Words: 5.7k

Halloween. The gang head to the Aurora for Phil’s Halloween party. While their friends get wasted and dance up a storm, Jake and Manon battle for dominance. You never truly lose when orgasms are handed out like party favours 🤭

Before I hunker down to panic write smut for a challenge, I thought I’d do some for these two nymphos! As usual, this can be read without knowing the main story these two are from. It’s just smut; anyone can read it and not get lost. It's another dual POV; the names are bolded when it changes!

~*~

Jake refused to believe Manon was wearing what his eyes were telling him she was wearing. She walked into the club like she owned the place. Black lycra hugged her curves like a second skin as she sauntered into the Aurora with Jessy and Lilly flanking her. Jessy wore cat whiskers, ears, and a tail. Lilly was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, but he hadn’t a clue what Manon was supposed to be other than a pain in his ass or a fresh attempt to give him blue balls. Thigh-high patent leather boots with heels so sharp and tall she could use them as a weapon covered Manon’s toned legs, and a thick leather choker like a collar decorated her throat, drawing his eye and sparking memories of his hands in its place. He knew that was her intention, but it didn’t dull the effect it had on him. He stood stock still, hand gripping his glass too tightly, gaze locked on the wicked woman currently making Jessy toss her head back and laugh.

They didn’t celebrate Halloween the year before; all felt it was too soon after their shared ordeal. It felt like tempting fate to don disguises and party mere weeks after people died. As if she sensed his attention, Manon’s venom eyes latched onto his, and he shook his head once, just barely. No one else noticed, but Manon saw everything when it came to him and never forgot it. She knew everything he said and didn’t say, all that he did and wished he could do before it left his lips. Able to read his mind, he often worried, and she would giggle, wink, and refuse to answer the question whenever he asked if she could. She didn’t say a word, only blew him a kiss before putting her back to him, and he tossed the contents of his glass down his throat. If she was on one of her taunting missions, he’d need more than whisky to get through this night.

A rough hand clapped him on the shoulder. He slid his masked eyes to Dan and smiled lightly, nodding hello as the other man ordered them new drinks. He leaned closer, focusing on the trio of women as they joined Hannah, Thomas, Cleo, and Richy at a table in the corner. Cleo hadn’t bothered with a costume, so he wasn’t the only one without an elaborate getup.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one,” Dan joked, dressed as Batman, and his eyes twinkled as he pushed a glass full of amber liquid to Jake.

Jake gave a wry chuckle, grinning as he said, “Don’t I know it...”

“What’s she supposed to be? A dominatrix?”

“I have no idea. She lives to fuck with me and get under my skin. I just go with it now.” Jake laughed, knowing damn well he delighted in her games and schemes to drive him mad.

Dan looked him up and down, brows furrowing, and Jake knew what he’d asked before it left his bristled mouth.

“And you? I’m drawing a blank.”

Jake wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants, and shoes completed the look. The black satin mask around his eyes kept slipping. It was annoying, but he had no choice in his outfit that night.

“Manon left it out... As I said, I just go with it. It’s easier and usually works out well for me.”

Dan snorted, nearly choking on his drink as Jake sipped at his and relished the slow burn as he swallowed it.

Manon kept one eye on the bar and the other on her friends. Jake and Dan laughed together, it made her heart happy to see Jake enjoying himself. Something about the mask she’d picked for him really did it for her, and she planned to convince him to keep it on when they got home, and he took out his frustration with her scandalous outfit on her willing body. Her dress was so short that she couldn’t bend down and had to be very careful how she sat, or she’d give everyone a show. It was worth it for the dark look in Jake’s lapis eyes when he spied her. There was no scary element to her costume. She’d had more than enough of myths and legends coming to life and had chosen to provoke the life out of her man instead. She was already three tequilas and a fruity cocktail down, and her buzz warmed her through as Jessy brought another round to the table. It was easy to ignore the curious eyes of the other patrons enjoying Phil’s Halloween party as they whispered about her and her friends.

Hannah, who came in a matching Barbie and Ken costume with Thomas, seemed more aware of it than everyone else, and Manon took to giving those nameless folk dagger-filled stares each time their gaze landed on Hannah. They were a novelty whenever they ventured into Duskwood and Manon had two fists full of middle fingers for every judgmental encounter with a stranger in the quaint, twisted little town. Alcohol flowed too freely, voices rising in pitch and volume as the music played louder and the lights went off. A few souls immediately ran to dance, and Manon didn’t object when Jessy grabbed her hand and hauled her up, tottering on her high heels as she followed the excitable redhead. The alcohol made them stumble as they danced, the music a physical thing it was so heavy, a pulse on loudspeaker that matched the pounding of her blood as it roared through her.

The others soon joined them along with people they didn’t know, and Manon chuckled as Richy tripped over his feet, trying to keep up with Jessy. Jake observed from the bar, catching her eye every time she looked over at him and it was like a lightning strike when their eyes met. She and Dan engaged in a terrible imitation of a line dance as Cleo and Lilly spun circles around them. Giggling and shrieking, Hannah shook her head at the two women and Jessy hissed at her, causing Lilly to cackle. Despite the chaos around her, her attention snagged on a scantily clad woman sidling up to Jake at the bar. Wearing the guise of a sexy nurse, the raven-haired woman reached out and slid her hand down Jake’s arm as Manon arched a brow. Jake had his back to her, whirling the instant she touched him, and his smile faltered as he greeted the woman and discreetly stepped back. Not deterred, the other woman flicked her hair over her shoulder and encroached on his space again. Manon saw red but waited. Jake could handle himself, but her hands curled as the brunette wouldn’t take the hint, and something predatory inside her opened an eye at the ownership in the woman’s touch as she patted his arm again.

“Calm down, Nonbon,” Dan said in her ear, and she prided herself on not jumping as she turned to him. He went on, “Hackerman has it handled.”

Turning back to the bar, Jake was indeed pushing the woman’s hands away as she went in for another tease. Manon bit down on the inside of her cheek, catching Phil coming up from the basement with a crate in hand, and an enticing idea popped into her mind as the woman attempting to flirt with Jake walked away with a scowl on her pretty face. Manon crowed internally as Jake’s gaze zoned in on hers, and he lifted his glass to her. She licked her lips, held eye contact for a beat too long, and tilted her head toward the entrance to the basement. Not waiting for his response, she strode for it, heartbeat rising with every step down to the basement door. She had no doubt he’d follow her.

A pull like an invisible thread tethered them to each other, going loose as she lost sight of him then taut as he neared. Her blood raced, veins lighting up as desire clouded her mind. Her breathing quickened, her burgundy painted lips tingled as her mind skipped ahead and she wouldn’t allow him to stop her this time, would take him for all he had to remind him he was hers. Reaching the bottom, the echo of Jake’s footsteps as he descended matched the flickering pulse in her throat, and her mouth watered as she shouldered the heavy door open and slipped inside. She quickly pulled her underwear down and clenched it in hand, standing with her back to the wall beside the door as Jake stopped outside and drew in a deep breath. Lust and discontent at the woman’s audacity were a potent blend, heating her skin and making her reckless as the door slowly inched open.

Jake entered the dim basement, holding his breath. He sensed her before she grabbed his shirt and shoved him against the door hard enough it shook in its frame. Red light gilded her sharp features as she wasted no time and kissed him with enough aggression he knew she’d seen every skin-crawling moment of the stranger’s advances. The thought brought forth a smirk, demanding and forceful; she breached his mouth and kissed the liquor right off his smiling lips. His trousers were too tight, cock rapidly hardening as she rubbed against him and chased his tongue with hers, his fingers playing with the hem of her dress. The hinges rattled as she shoved a knee between his legs, mouth bruising his as his cock gave a painful twitch, harder than he’d ever been as she ground down on his thigh. He took hold of her hips and attempted to back her up to a table he saw before she was on him, but she firmly pushed his shoulders again, and he rocked into the door as her hand slid down the front of his pants, stroking over him and sending what remained of his blood straight to his cock.

Her scent was sugar, and spice, heaven and hell all wrapped up in one heady fragrance and he wanted to thank that woman for making her respond so boldly. A woman on a mission, she didn’t let him breathe or touch her, whatever had gotten into her, this was about him and he wasn’t about to tell her to stop. He tried again, gripping her hips and bending at the knee to lift her, but she broke away, maroon lips puffed by his as she lay a possessive hand over his pounding heart.

“You’re with me, or did you forget that?” She murmured, voice husky as her sea-glass eyes burned hot enough to scald him.

His knees weakened at her sudden show of dominance, head shaking as sense fled and animalistic lust took its place. His cock took all his brains when it took his blood. There was nothing but white noise in his head and he couldn’t hear the music upstairs anymore.

“You’re impossible to forget.” He said reverently, cupping her face to capture her lips in another kiss, but she didn’t allow it. Shaking out of his hold, her mouth was on his neck, leaving a trail of small nipping bites, marking him, claiming him for all the world to see. Something was shoved into his pocket but he soon forgot all about it.

Feverish fingers flicked the button of his pants open, and the zipper was pulled down. She pushed the trousers down over his ass before her hand dove inside his boxers and wrapped around his cock, stroking firmly then gently. Just another way for her to drive him insane and prod at his restraint. He was seconds away from bending her over and fucking her hard, but she gave him a slow blink and dropped to her knees, mouth opening as she stared up at him through her lashes. His mind eddied out, heart bouncing off his ribs as she took him into her hot mouth, cheeks hollowing as he hit the back of her throat and cursed. His head thudded back against the door as he let out a moan; she stroked the base of his cock as she sucked, mouth and hand moving in tandem to work him to the edge as fast as she could.

Tongue swirling, toe-curling suction, long, deep drags of her sanguine lips along his rigid length, and teasingly gentle teeth making him tremble and sink his hands into her silver hair, torn between pulling her off to feel her tight cunt around his cock and fucking her face. She didn’t make it easy to choose, and he was curious to see how far she’d take it before her own desire ate away at her control. He panted, frantic as her hands moved to grip his ass, fingers digging in as she encouraged him to rock his hips into her face, mouth tightening as she took it and didn’t choke like he feared. Her eyes watered as she held his gaze and hollowed her cheeks again. The crown of his cock hit the back of her throat, and an odd wolfish noise came free of his chest as she relaxed to take more of him. She was going to kill him or leave him unable to function. Either way, he was fucked.

Release already shimmered and pooled low in his spine; everything she was doing worked too well, and when she swallowed around his cock, his eyes crossed, and he reflexively tugged her hair, earning a muffled moan from her. He wanted to finish inside her, see her splinter and fall apart before he did, but she wouldn’t allow it. He was merely an observer as she somehow took him even deeper, lips nearly as tight as her cunt, throat constricting and relaxing around him, nostrils flaring as she struggled to breathe, and it made a monster out of him. His head swam and short-circuited as she slowly began to bob over him, swallowing him down, a hand cupping and playing with his stones as he sobbed and shook helplessly.

His vision narrowed, the world blurring as it whited out and black speckled the edges, gripping her head and rocking into her mouth so she took him impossibly deeper. Her defiant moan as he tried to push her away didn’t help matters, the sound so filthy and satisfying he wanted to record it as his cock jumped in her clever mouth and release swamped his system. She wouldn’t have it and tightened her lips so much he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. It rolled down his spine in rippling waves of flame, igniting every nerve as his body bowed over her, knees turning to water as he came violently down her throat. She took it all. Drank him down, draining him to the dregs as he groaned and growled her name. All of him felt as if someone had flain his skin and he was too exposed, so sensitive he could hardly stand the soft sweep of her tongue as she cleaned his cock of every drop before she finally released him and rose to her feet.

Her pink tongue snaked out, licking at a stray drop of cum at the corner of her mouth, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she eyed his quaking form with eyes darker than a midnight sky. The hold she had on his heart and soul never wavered. He leaned weakly against the door, sure his legs would fail him if he moved away. His chest heaved, and sweat trickled down his neck as she finally spoke.

“The next time some woman puts her hands on you, Jake, remember this,” She purred and pushed him away from the door, leaving him staring at nothing as her clacking steps ascended the stairs.

It took him longer than he’d ever admit to wrangle with his numb limbs and wait for his breathing to slow. There was no hope of calming himself down. He quickly tucked himself away, righting his trousers and smoothing shaky hands down his crumpled shirt. His mind still raced, spinning with all she’d done to him, and he did his best to act normal as he left the safety of the basement. A smoky chuckle slipped free as he followed her back to the bar and felt in his pocket to find she’d stuffed her underwear in it. She was an evil little thing. He stopped at the bar to order a double shot of something that burnt his throat as he threw it back and shuddered. Leaning heavily on the bar, Jake jumped as Jessy appeared at his elbow and demanded Phil make her something pretty. She looked him over, brows rising and head shaking. It was an expression that Jessy often wore when she was around him and Manon.

“You look like you lost a war with something that likes to bite,” The redhead said, cocking her head at his wrinkled clothes and kiss swollen mouth.

Jake chased his last shot with a vodka cola and laughed, “I lost a battle. The war hasn’t started yet,” He returned, eyes seeking Manon and catching her whispering to Richy as the man smiled and gestured toward Jessy.

“I don’t think I want to know anything more, okay, Jake. You two have no shame. You’d make a fortune online. Let’s leave it at that!” She jested and thanked Phil when he handed her a bright pink drink with too many tiny umbrellas, a squiggly straw, and a sparkler. She was gone before Jake could summon a response.

He watched her sit beside Richy and Manon, the latter smirking over at him as he noted the flush on her chest and the stiff way she held herself. He knew she would be soaked, utterly fired up, and primed to be fucked until she knew only his name. It wouldn’t take much, her emerald eyes smoldered and she couldn’t sit still, he could probably make her come just by talking to her. Still, he knew she would avoid him the rest of the night and drag out the anticipation until she couldn’t stand it. Beautiful but savage, she would string it out until she begged him to take over. But he couldn’t wait that long. She had a lesson to learn, and he would rejoice in teaching it as he sank his last drink and swiped the keys to Phil’s office from behind the bar when the man’s back was turned.

Manon was well aware she was playing a dangerous, risky game. But it was worth every second of nerve-straining anticipation as he prowled toward their table, a little ungraceful in his stride as he gave their friends a look that made them all clear off to the dancefloor. The power of bringing a man nearly twice her size to his knees with nothing but her mouth lay over her like a glowing shield as she watched his face harden. Manon grinned, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs to dull the burn between them as he braced his hands on the table and leaned until he loomed over her, masked eyes blown black with lust as they pinned her in place.

“Phil’s office. Five minutes.” He growled, and then he was gone while she blinked after his broad shoulders and bit back a whimper at the unyielding order.

He was a man of few words, but he knew how to wield every last one to fuck with her and make her a needy, whiny mess. She fucking loved it. Five minutes passed at a glacial speed. Every passing second was marked by her furious heartbeat and tapping fingers on the sticky tabletop. She staggered away from the table, glancing at her friends and Phil to ensure no one was paying attention as she escaped to meet Jake and pay the toll she owed for sucking the soul out of his body. His taste still lingered on her tongue, earthy and salty, and a tang of something she always associated with him. She’d been dying to know how he’d taste since they met. Jake always stopped her before he came, preferring to get on his knees for her, but his surprise worked to her advantage, and she finally made her selfish wish come true. The other woman was just the excuse she needed to make it happen, and she wanted him riled up and had hoped he would attack her the moment they were alone. She hadn’t anticipated this outcome, and her filthy mind and slick cunt couldn’t wait.

Phil’s office was up a short set of stairs. The music thumped through the floor as she neared the door, blood roaring in her ears and cheeks heating as she knocked before letting herself in. The thud of her heels on the carpet seemed over loud as she crossed the threshold, but her focus went to the man who held her black heart in golden hands. Jake, seated behind Phil’s desk, arms folded, muscles straining, and ankle crossing his knee, his heated gaze moved over her body like a caress. She locked the door behind her and moved to stand before him. Laughter and joyful cries seeped into the room from below, but she only had ears for him.

“What game are you playing, Manon?” He husked, those singular eyes blazing and filling with smoke as she gave an indolent shrug.

“One I believe I’m winning.” She said to make his mouth flatten, one glorious brow arching as she shifted on her feet.

“You sure about that? I don’t have to touch you to know how wet you are right now.”

Fuck, her thighs were slippery as she clamped them together and replied, “Hmm... What are you going to do about it, Jake?”

He crooked a finger and said two clipped words she followed like a lost puppy, “Come here.”

Rounding the desk, he dropped his foot and widened his legs so she could stand between them. The chair had no arms, he studied her and swiped his thumb along his bottom lip. His other hand patted his knee as he gave another order.

“Show me.”

Catching on, she lifted her leg, balancing her booted foot on his knee and letting her skirt roll up to expose herself to his searching gaze. Hunger, endless and roasting, glazed his eyes as he saw the state she was in after her show in the basement. It always affected her to make him feel as unhinged as he made her feel on a daily basis.

Jake breathed her in and groaned, eyes tracking the droplet of essence trickling down her inner thigh. She wobbled as he reached under her dress, taunting her folds with a fingertip as he cursed and his eyes darkened to navy.

“You should have let me take care of that earlier,” He crooned, filling her empty cunt with two long fingers, and she nearly fell on her ass in shock, but his free arm snaked out and grabbed hold of her.

He gave her two twists of his fingers before pulling free of her and silently urged her to drop her foot to the floor. She held herself very still as he took his time looking her over and committing her to memory. His mind worked away behind his eyes, and she knew he was calculating how much time they had before someone came looking and what would send her over the edge fastest. Her dirty mind supplied many scenarios, each one filthier than the last but she held her tongue. She knew he’d made his mind up when his mouth quirked into a sinful smirk.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, and something inside her perked up at the authority in his tone.

Taking her time, testing his patience to the limit, she moved to stand behind him, sliding her hands under his chin to jerk his head back and kiss him upside down. Inelegant and messy, it was worth the surprise in his eyes before hers shut, and she let him lead the way. His beard scratched her skin, adding to the sensation coursing through her as the sound of a zipper broke through the bass beat thumping through the floor. She didn’t have to look to know he was palming his cock, she had seen the sight so many times she could conjure it instantly, but it didn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping as her imagination sparked vivid and beautiful. Her empty cunt clenched around nothing at the alluring mental image, more wetness stickied her thighs, and her battle for control fell apart with the stroke of his tongue in her mouth.

Sensing he’d won, she bit his smiling lips and whined, a hand falling between her legs to toy with her clit as he wouldn’t do it for her. He hissed, breaking away as she shivered and circled that bundle of nerves to take the edge off. He batted her hand away, ignoring her cry of irritation.

“That’s it, come here,” his voice went lethally low, “Straddle me. Take it all at once.”

Swallowing hard, Manon knew he was fighting dirty, had secretly known taking the reins from him would lead to this, and only just managed to smother her pleased smile as she came around the side of him. Swinging her leg over his thighs, she peeled her skintight dress up to her hips, and her hands collared his neck, mimicking the choker around hers as he swallowed thickly. She hovered over him, hips quivering as he ran the fat head of his cock through her drenched folds and lined up with her entrance. Doing as told, she took him to the hilt in one sinuous stretching slide, body going rigid as her resisting muscles burned, and she felt him knocked too deep to breathe through the sensation like a charge under her skin. His hands held her down as her cunt pulsed around him, forcing herself to loosen to accommodate him and gritting her teeth as he held eye contact through her struggle.

“Move.” He commanded once she softened enough to roll her hips and whimper her impatience.

Jake knew she expected him to take charge, and he would, but first, it was time she learned her lesson, and he was nothing if not a studious teacher. Her cunt clasped him so tightly he couldn’t form thoughts, a perfect fit that always had him half way to release the moment he was inside, but he let none of it show as she moved over him. Slowly at first, lifting in a slow drag and dropping down with a slight wriggle, her vicious eyes flamed as they held his in thrall. He shoved the selfish part of him aside as she bounced and picked up her pace, her mouth falling open as she whined. Her boots caught his eye as her hands flexed around his throat and sent a bolt of fire straight to his cock, like a strippers and high enough that a fall would break something, but he’d be damned if they didn’t turn his blood molten as she pushed up in a taut slippery slide. His nails dug into her hips as he took control, slamming her back down hard enough her teeth rattled, and she yelped in a delicious blend of shock, pain, and pleasure.

He helped her ride him, glorying in the silken glide of her inner walls around his rock-hard cock, and every little spasm they made felt like heaven. Capturing her mouth, he poured all the love and desire he felt for her into the kiss and knew she understood by how her fingers dove through his hair and pulled. Her familiar spiced scent heightened the desire coursing through his bones. Their bodies had always spoken to each other in a silent language, a complex tongue neither could speak on their own, pushing and pulling, electricity zipping between them as they moved. She was soaking wet, utterly saturated, as he lifted her off him, turned her around, and bent her over the desk.

“Hold on, Sweetheart,” Was all the warning he gave her before he sank inside her taut heat, and she scrabbled to find purchase on the desk. Fucking her on Phil’s desk had been his primary motivation for bringing her here. He still remembered those days when Phil asked Manon out or flirted with her in front of him. Payback made it all the sweeter, and he slowed his pace to breathe through the urge to come as Manon keened and griped at him to fuck her. Her boldness and eagerness to share her body with him never lost its potency. He couldn’t put a value high enough on the trust she so readily handed him and never pushed it farther than he knew she could take. An undercurrent of respect and great affection ran between them through all aspects of their lives, but never so tangible as during these encounters. She was hell in a hand basket, a whirlwind of fire and fight, and it was fucking fantastic.

Her grip on the desk slipped and slid as he pounded into her, deliberately tensing her inner walls to drag a ragged moan out of his throat, and he rewarded her with a sharp tap on the ass, smoothing his hand over the hurt so she rolled back to meet his thrust. It didn’t matter what life threw at them. They always had this. He spread her legs wider, wanting to see it as he split her pretty cunt in two, and she glistened like diamonds as she made no effort to hide herself, shameless for him. Her cries turned desperate as his thrusts turned shallow and slow, dragging it out and relishing in how much she needed him. His ego preened as her hands curled around the edge of the desk, knuckles bleaching white as he snapped his hips viciously and chuckled darkly as she pleaded with him to do it again.

Manon resolved to deep-throat him more often if this was the result. Even when she lost, she never really felt like she had. No, every drag of his cock inside her dripping cunt felt like a win. It was building so fast, fire spiraling down her torso to settle low in her belly, and every brutal plunge of his cock only stoked the flames of her ardor. A tremor ricocheted through her and a high-pitched keening tore from her throat as he slammed into her and gave a grunt so rough her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Her inner walls fluttered, tensing herself to hold him captive as she drowned in sensation. He pushed down on her lower back, deepening her arch until her chest was flat to the table, and the angle changed, steeper now, hitting that spot within her that made her cries turn crazed.

Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooding from her as she clung to her sanity and vocally urged him on. He made her feel free, unleashed, and uninhibited in a way she never had before. Her usual need for total control dissolved when they were alone, and it made him all the more addictive, she was always chasing the high he could give her. It was all she could do to hold on as he fucked her, his grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with her clit, and his other hand bruised her hip. It didn’t take long for release to spark its warning. His growl when he felt it added gasoline to the fire, devouring her from the inside.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. Don’t forget that.” He rasped, each word punctuated by another savage snap of his hips.

A whine of pure distress left her then, cunt tensing and relaxing as he fucked her to the edge. The desk groaned under her hands as she clutched it to keep from melting to the floor. Jake’s low laugh as she shook her head didn’t help her calm down. Too much to take for long, she sobbed in relief as her orgasm broke violent and all-consuming, shouts from below drowned out her breathless wail. Her cunt possessively gripped his cock, his ragged moan music to her ears as she flailed under him. Chemistry or biology, she didn’t care what it was between them as long as he kept fucking her like he hated her. She couldn’t breathe, so overwhelmed and unable to form sentences, she babbled as sumptuous heat licked through her. Her entire body quivered and went boneless, every ripple of release dulling the sharp edges of her mind as he pounded her harder to join her in bliss.

It dragged her orgasm out until it was torture to withstand, and when he cried her name, a warning and win, burying himself so deep it forced a scream past her teeth. The filthy feel of him cumming inside her, her shimmering orgasm, and his hands gripping her hips in a fierce hold, made it the best Halloween she’d ever had. Her noise of contentment blended with his whispered praise and words of worship as he slipped free of her still-flickering cunt and turned her around. His lips were on hers, his tongue licking at hers, bristling and biting as he nipped at her bottom lip and possessed her mouth so completely she couldn’t tell where she ended, and he began. Gasping for breath and unsteady on her feet, their kiss turned rough and ravenous, his low groans making her blood sing as he made sure she knew he loved her.

His care for her was the most compelling thing about him. He could fuck her like she was his worst enemy, ordering her around and taunting her until she begged, make her hurt, but he always made sure she felt safe and loved after. She melted into him, smiling into the kiss as he blindly tugged her dress over her ass and grabbed handfuls of it once she was covered. He slowed it down, taking his time to undo her and make her heart grow wings with every tender brush of his tongue. His hands ran up and down her spine, massaging gently as she sighed happily. They kissed until she was sure he could go again, but they had pushed their luck enough, and she could wait until they got home.

They righted the room and themselves as best they could, but her overbright eyes and the sheen of sweat on her skin would give her away. Secret smiles were shared as they checked the office for anything that would point to them. Leaving together, Jake locked the door, and they descended the stairs, the music was a solid wall of sound as he went to the bar, and she went to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned to him, perched on a stool, Jake had a drink waiting for her, a sly smirk on his bearded mouth, and she didn’t hesitate to jump in his lap as they watched their friends enjoy themselves. Phil kept catching her eye, but she avoided him, wanting to giggle childishly at the thought of admitting what they’d done upstairs.

Leaning her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hip with his thumb, she said, “I love you. I’ll win next time, though.”

Jake’s laugh made her grin as he held her tighter and lowered his head to her ear.

“We’ll see, Sweetheart. We’ll see. Love you, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it 🥰 this will most likely be the last one shot for a while. I have my sequel to publish, a smutty challenge and a battle to win! Busy. But I’ll be back at some point. Thank you, have a lovely evening ❤️

If you enjoyed this, I have many more smutty JakexMC one shots on my Masterlist 🥰

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kwisatzworld · 1 year ago

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Vale's First Year in 250cc - 1998

Japanese GP, Suzuka “Maybe the perfect thing about 250 is I can get out of bed later! I used to get up around 7am every day for 125 practice, and that’s too early, a big problem for me. Now life is very much better because 250 practice later so I can stay in bed until 9am. I keep strange hours – at home I never go to bed before one or two in the morning, and I never get up before 11am if I can help it.” “I like Suzuka very much because it’s fun and Japan is a paradise for me because I love computer games. The track is great and I love all the shops and amusement arcades in the circuit complex – it’s like a big amusement park. Suzuka has to be the most expensive GP for me! This year I spent so much money on new games for my PlayStation and on souvenir F1 models of Hakkinen and Senna. I also bought a very trick radio-controlled Tamiya Subaru, with all the special parts that are impossible to buy in Italy.” “I think I will ask Beggio - he’s the Aprilia boss - to fix it for me to meet the Spice Girls. They are now promoting Aprilia scooters, and I’m a big fan. It would be fantastic to meet Scary Spice. Maybe I should join the band – I’d be Fast Spice!” “It’s good to be racing again after such a long winter and so much testing. I only had one real holiday – I went snowboarding for the first time. I crashed so many times. Now I’m a racer I’m more careful on skis than when I was a boy, but not too careful!”

Malaysian GP, Johor “Johor was another expensive grand prix for me – very expensive! On Sunday I lost the prize money for first place and earlier in the week I lost one million lira in a bet with Loris Capirossi. We stayed at the same hotel and I bet him that he couldn’t jump off a first-floor hotel walkway into the swimming pool. It was a pretty risky jump because he had to jump away from the walkway and there was a four metres drop to the pool, and no room for a run up! He nearly chickened out, but I’ll never pay him. Well, I’ll see if he forgets first.”

Spanish GP, Jerez “I didn’t miss the discos either, because I had a lot of late nights in clubs before I went to Malaysia. Maybe you know, but there’s a big fight in Italy at the moment to make clubs shut earlier. They close at 4am on Saturday night, but some people want them to close at two, because a lot of the kids have accidents when they drive home. But it’s crazy, if they shut the clubs at two, for sure there’s no way I’ll go home. I’ll go to another bar or to a party with my friends. I always stay up until six or seven on Sunday morning! Okay, maybe some of the kids drink too much or take drugs, but you don’t only get drink and drugs in clubs.” “It’s great to be back in Europe after the first two races. I have my camper which makes life very comfortable, the camper only holds two people, but that’s okay. I don’t like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o’clock he starts saying: ‘Vale, Vale, go to bed!’, but I can’t go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in ‘96 and it made life very, very difficult for me. Dad didn’t make it to Japan or Malaysia and it’s good to have him around again. He knows what it’s like to be a GP rider, so he keeps in the background, maybe watches a bit out on the track, and lets me get on with it.” “Next race of course is Mugello, which is fantastic – lots of Italian fans. But I hope it doesn’t get too crazy for me in the paddock. Someone told me I should hire some security gorillas to look after me, but the organisers of the Milan motorcycle show did that for me, and they pushed the fans around. I didn’t like that, so maybe I’ll do what I did at the Bologna motorcycle show last autumn – dress up with dark shades, a wig like Ruud Gullit [the Dutch football star] and a baseball cap. I looked just like a fan and didn’t get hassled once all day. Or maybe I will dress up as a Spice Girl!”

Italian GP, Mugello “The noise at Mugello is mad – the fans on the hills rev up engines all day and all night. Some people bring big, old car motors in the back of vans, with big, open megaphone exhausts. They just rev them on the rev- limiter until the engines blow: pa-pa-pa-pa-pa... boom! It’s very funny! It’s fun to go up on the hill on Saturday evening. Two years ago I wasn’t so well known and I went up there and blew up someone’s CBR engine. Ooops! Last year was very dangerous for me – everyone shouting ‘Rossi! Rossi!’ and jumping on me. There was this big wall of people and only one way out – through the showerblock, so I rode my scooter through the showerblock. If I hadn’t, I’d probably still be up there.” “Mugello is always a lot of pressure for me, but maybe this year isn’t so bad as last year when I was on top of the points in 125s, so I had to win. This time as usual I spent so much time signing autographs, taking photographs with fans and talking to journalists and TV people. It’s okay, but it’s a little problem, because I need so much time to set up the 250. It’s not easy like the 125. You must think a lot and speak to your technicians all the time about your engine, your gearbox, your suspension, your chassis. Busy! Busy!” “The other thing that takes a lot of time is the girls! There are always a lot of girls at every Grand Prix, but a lot of really young girl fans come to see me in Italy, 12 and 13-year-olds. I prefer older girls who are real fans of me as a racer – not teeny-boppers.” “I wasn’t so confident before Mugello because while I was at home I played football and lost, I played tennis and lost, I rode motocross and lost. The only thing I won was minicars – I am the champion! We got beaten in a five-a-side soccer match, six-one, then a friend beat me at tennis, six-one, then Marco [Melandri] beat me at motocross. I’m always fighting with Marco on motocross but he’s faster than me. I’m getting better though – at the start of the year he’d beat me by five or six seconds, now it’s only one or two. I have much fear when I ride motocross because I’m not good at flying. We don’t go crazy; it would be stupid to get hurt doing that. Motocross is great for my muscle power though. I don’t go the gym much in the summer because I want to be outside, so motocross is perfect.”

French GP, Circuit Paul Ricard “Of course I’m looking forward to the World Cup. I love football and you get a great atmosphere for the World Cup. For sure I will see all of Italy’s matches on TV with my friends. I may also go to Paris for one of our matches to work with Italian TV. I hope it’s the final! But I think it will be difficult for Italy. For me, Brazil are the favourites, maybe also France; they have some good players.”

Madrid GP, Jarama “The Saturday before Jarama I went to a crazy disco in Riccione – a lot of people were out of their minds, really high! It’s incredible what the young do for enjoyment! I nearly got into a fight in the club too. This guy came up to me and asked for a cigarette. I told him I don’t smoke. So he asked me again, and I said I don’t smoke. He said ‘You don’t want to give me a cigarette because you’re Valentino Rossi’ and he wanted to fight me! Luckily a friend of mine – a big friend – arrived just in time. That’s another reason why I must get bigger muscles!”

Dutch TT, Assen “I love Assen – it’s a fun track – so it was great to win my first 250 GP there, especially after I won there on the 125 last year. The only thing I hate about Assen is the weather, but it didn’t rain until the 500 went out. God must like 250 racing!” “Maybe my new hair style gave me good luck. I dyed it orange before I left home for Holland, but only when I got to Assen did I realise that orange is the country’s national colour. So far I’ve been blue, blonde and orange, which leaves so many more colours to choose from. I think silver will be next.” “The weekend before Assen I went to the Misano World Superbike round. The track is only 10km from where I live, so I rode there on a scooter with some friends. It was like being a kid again! We watched from the side of the track, not from the paddock. We just laid down in the grass, sunbathed and cheered like crazy when Aaron Slight won both races. I’m a big Slight fan, so it was another perfect day. Aaron’s a really nice guy, but I’m also a big fan of Haga. He didn’t have such a great day – he crashed in both races – but that didn’t stop him having a big party on Sunday night. I went out to dinner with him and the Yamaha team that evening. I had already met him at the Suzuka GP and although he doesn’t speak Italian or English we had a very good Japanese/Italian interpreter. He’s incredible – he drank so much beer! He’s a good guy and very funny.” “The Superbike paddock is great, very different from GPs. Everyone is so serious in GPs – they have to be because the racing is so competitive. In Superbike it’s not like that, the whole Yamaha team was drinking on Sunday night: chief mechanics, mechanics, riders and even the number one guys of Yamaha Japan and Yamaha Italy. I think it’s better like that, but the scene in GPs is too intense for that kind of thing.” “A few days before Misano I went to Paris to be a studio guest on Rae TV for the Italy v Cameroon game. Three-nil! It was fun, but I didn’t get to talk much and I never met the Italian team, because I was in Paris and they were playing in Montpelier!”

British GP, Donington Park “It was a bad end to a bad week for me. We watched the Italy v France World Cup game on Friday night in the Aprilia hospitality unit – there were a lot of Italians and a lot of French making a lot of noise, so it was very funny. Of course I was sad to see Italy get beaten, especially on penalties. For sure if they’d won the cup there would have been a really huge party all over Italy. I was looking forward to that. Now I want Brazil to win. I was glad to see Germany go out on Saturday because I didn’t want them to win. Sorry, Germany!” “The guy who really impressed me during the World Cup was Michael Owen, the English striker, he’s only 18 or something and he scored an amazing goal against Argentina. Maybe he’s the Valentino Rossi of football!” “We had our own paddock World Cup at Donington on Thursday, which was really shit, because we played three games and lost three games. I played in the Italian team with Melandri, Boscoscuro, Scalvini, Locatelli, Borsoi and Carpani. First we played the Suzuki 500 team and lost, then we played Team Rainey and lost, and finally we played Dorna, and lost. Dorna were all Spanish and very good. But the games weren’t so much fun because the pitch was tiny and really bumpy. Last year we had the paddock World Cup at Imola on a full-size pitch, and I scored twice. Nice!” “I have to say I don’t like leaving home to go racing at this time of year - there are too many beautiful girls around where I live, and they don’t wear so many clothes during the summer. Before I left home for Donington we played this really fun game of football in Riccione, on a soft rubber pitch, covered with soap and water, so you slide all over the place! It’s very difficult even to touch the ball, and you spend most of the time crashing into each other. We were laughing so much we were crying.” “I’ve got a new PlayStation car racing game at home: Grand Turismo. It’s fantastic and I’ve been spending a lot of time playing it. You start off with a not-so-good car, and then win prize money to get trick tuning gear for the engine and chassis. Now I have a Subaru with 350bhp. It’s so fast! I’ve heard there are also some good bike racing games coming out soon – a World Superbike game from Virgin, and the Aoki brothers are working on a GP racing game with Namco. Maybe if they’re really good, I’ll just give up racing and stay home with my PlayStation. It doesn’t hurt so much when you crash.”

German GP, Sachsenring “Now we have a four-week holiday before Brno, but I’m going to spend most of my time on the beach near my home – it’s sunny and the girls are nice, that’s all I need! But I am going away for one week – a racers’ holiday with Loris Reggiani, Roberto Locatelli and Melandri. We’re going to Tunisia to mess about with jet skis and fast boats. Should be a lot of fun!” “People ask me why I don’t have a really flash car, but I like the Impreza. And anyway I live in a town with small streets – not so great with a supercar. Maybe next year I will buy a Porsche S4. At the moment I think I am maybe too young for a Porsche. I guess I can afford one but I don’t want to have everything I want too soon. I’m still young and have plenty of time ahead of me for doing things.” “Perugini has a Ferrari, but I think a Porsche has more class. Capirossi has a Lamborghini Diablo with 500bhp, like an F1 car. They’re great cars but they’re like a Fiat 128 inside! Also you can lend your Porsche to your mother so she can go and do the shopping. Try doing that with a Lamborghini – Iimpossible! For me, Porsche is number one, for sure.”

Imola GP, Imola “It’s nice to win again – especiallly at home. Maybe my Italian hairdo worked, which makes me think, because I won in Holland, when I had my hair orange, which is their national colour. So maybe I’ll dye my hair like the Catalan flag for Barcelona – red and yellow. Only problem – I’ll look like an oil flag!” “I could hardly move for girls outside my pit at Imola. Too many girls. Also some very nice girls, but I don’t have time! Maybe they like my new hairstyle. Imola was a tough race for me. Not because of the girls, but because it’s a very technical track with many slow chicanes, so we had trouble finding the right settings for my Aprilia.” “I’ve decided I prefer 125 riders to 250 riders – they’re much more fun and much more honest. It’s better. If you do something bad on the track, the other 125 riders come and tell you to your face. If you do something bad in 250, they just smile and say hello, and then say bad things about you behind your back.” “A lot of the 250 riders aren’t as friendly or as well behaved as 125 riders. 125 racing is like a family – everyone is friends, it’s not like that in 250, and I guess it’s probably the same in 500.” “Back at the start of the season, Ukawa got in my way on purpose when I was on a fast qualifying lap, to try and slow me down. He said he didn’t see me, but for sure he did see me. The same has happened other times. No one ever got in my way on purpose when I was racing 125 GPs in ‘96 and ‘97. In 250, the other riders seem to get angry if you’re fast, they like you more if you’re slow.” “Everyone knows that 125 battles are often very close and very crazy, but we still manage to stay friends. I don’t like the way some 250 riders behave. Before I came into 250 a lot of the riders were my heroes, but not any more. I hope I don’t become like one of them – if I do, I hope you will tell me.”

Catanlan GP, Catalunya “I don’t think the GP bosses liked my friend the chicken at Catalunya. The rules say you’re not allowed to give people pillion rides, but the rules don’t say anything about chickens. Maybe I’ll get into trouble, maybe they’ll put me in jail, but I won the race, so I don’t care. As long they let me out in time for Australia. Why a chicken? Simple, a friend of mine runs a chicken farm, and he’s one of my sponsors.” “We had a big party after I won at Imola – a lot of people, but I didn’t have a hangover the next morning, because I don’t drink alcohol. Maybe the occasional beer, for fun. But I’m only 19, plenty of time for drinking later!”

Australian GP, Phillip Island “I got to Australia on Wednesday and left on Sunday night after the race, so I had no time to see anything, apart from some koalas, kangaroos and possums at a nature reserve on the island. I spent some time in Sydney in ‘96 and I think Australia is my favourite country, outside Italy. I love the people and they’re very passionate about bike racing. They were all behind Mick [Doohan] over the weekend and I saw there were some shops at the track selling black flags with a number six on them. Very funny! [The flags were taking the mickey out of number six 500 rider Max Biaggi who had been black-flagged at the Catalan GP.]” “Since they cancelled Rio I lost all chance of winning the world title. But I’m happy we’re not going there because the track is shit. So the last race is Argentina. I’ve never been there before, so I’m looking forward to it, especially since some people tell me the girls there are the most beautiful in the world.”

Argentine GP, Buenos Aires “It's great to win again - my fifth win of the year - hooray! But I lost the championship by just three points, so, shit!” “It's been a long season, but I could still do another few races no problem. Which we' 11 have to do next year because we have 16 or 17 grands prix in 1999. In fact I' m still not finished - I have a rally at the end of November and next season I' m doing a big event at Misano, racing against lot of other bike racers, doing motocross, karting, rally cars and Formula Renault. It should be a lot of fun - I think I' Il be racing with [Kevin] Schwantz, Reggiani, Mamola, Harada, Melandri, Haru and Nobu Aoki, [Luca] Cadalora, [Roberto] Locatelli and Criville. I' not too worried about winning, I just want to have a laugh.” “On Saturday he took a short cut. round the back of the circuit, and was going through this corner at about 20kph when I arrived on a very fast lap. It was really frightening, so I paid him back by kicking him as we returned to the pits. That was my first trip to Argentina, but Buenos Aires is good: nice place, nice girls!”

#valentino rossi #motogp #250cc #the valentino rossi files: everything i've ever written about vr #by mat oxley #reading

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