#i don't know enough about accents to say anything else but i know for sure

[capn-twitchery]

if accents are mostly a psychological thing then twitch, with their memories from 40+ people from 40+ different places, must have the weirdest fucking accent known to man

world's most unplacable accent

[shewasverynice]

Cow *space* Boy - Part 1

@baobei-bu made this fucking INCREDIBLE art and I cannot stop looking at it. SO here's the result of that.

((It's also a three parter with Suguru and Nanami next))

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit

Content: Cosplay, Overstim, Established Relationship, Fingering, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Eating Out, SATORU GOJO HIMSELF <3

Sarah stood with her fingers pinching between her eyes and her other hand on her hip. This was not it. This was not it at all.

"What?" Satoru shrugged, the cow bell attached to his pink bow tie clanging as he stepped closer, "Cow boys right? You said cow boy, didn't you?"

"Yeehaw cowboys," Sarah sighed, opening one eye, then looking away again, "As in, not the cow himself, Satoru."

"Ah," Satoru looked down at his outfit. A tiny little crop top that barely covered his pecs. Some straps that probably could have gone around some tits or something but were around his waist just hanging decoratively. The thong holding on for dear life. All of it was covered in pink cow spots. That's not to forget the headband of course. Very important. Cute fluffy cow ears and pink horns. He was so sure she'd be into it!

"You like it though, right?" He asked. That notorious cocky grin appeared on his pretty pink lips when he reached forward to lift her chin and make her look him in the eyes.

"I dunno, man! Of course I do- I don't- I just- I-" she stammered, struggling to keep eye contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping low and husky, "Yeah, I know you do. Just admit it."

Before she could say anything else he leaned closer to her ear and let his lips brush just enough so that when he asked, "So, little farm girl, are you gonna milk this cow dry," she shuddered.

"Why is that hot," she muttered, pushing him back, "Why is everything you do so fucking hot?"

"You like it, don't lie," he laughed, and his wife surprised him suddenly with his favorite thing.

Her eyes met his with a certain defiance, a devilish smirk as well. The kind of look that defined the very reason he was willing to put on any kind of stupid costume she wanted. It didn't matter what she wanted. He'd do it. He'd do it enthusiastically just to see that look on her face.

"What?" Satoru asked, unable to hide the obvious excitement in his voice. As if he didn't know what she was about to do.

She tilted her head, shifting so she was hovered above him, balancing on her forearms. “I've never milked a cow like this before,” she murmured playfully, "She seems a bit odd, but what do I know? I'm new to farming after all.”

He bit his lip, reaching up to trace along her jawline. “Moo?”

"Don't do that," she huffed, then shoved him back onto the bed. He allowed himself to land on the comforter, his tongue swiping across his lips as she crawled over him.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "But what are you going to do to me, Miss Farmer?" He fluttered his long white eyelashes, making his best innocent eyes up at her.

There was a hot flush on Sarah's cheeks, and it was seeping steadily down her neck to the pale skin on her chest. Her eyes were positively wicked when she purred, "You want to find out?"

"Fuck yes, I want to," Satoru murmured. He tilted his head down, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, and got real close to Sarah's pretty lips. They had all the time in the world today. They could take all the time they wanted to play this little "cow boy" game. 

Apparently she knew that too because Sarah shifted, attempting to pin his wrists in her small hands over his head on the pillows. Satoru chuckled at her, but a groan rumbled in his chest as her palm slipped between their bodies and across the strap around his exposed middle. Her fingers tugged and teased at the pink leather and it took more restraint than he expected to hold still for her.

Sarah let up a little to look down at him underneath her, catching her thumb in his belly button. "Want me to do a southern accent too?" She mumbled with a grin, and Satoru made an undignified snort. He shook his head at her, barely biting back his own grin.

"Damn, baby, I do actually love this," Sarah breathed out, snapping the band of his cow spotted thong. Satoru's skin was already warm, flushed just a little pink from his impatient needs. It turned just a shade darker when he watched her eyes rake over him. They were tight enough for her to see the exact outline of his cock as it throbbed and thickened. The damn thing would probably tear off if he was all the way hard, and wasn't that a hell of a thought.

Sarah let her grip on his wrists go, sliding down his body and shoving up his crop top. She sunk her teeth in gently, just between his pecs where the skin was thin and especially pale, sucking a little. Satoru made a little huffing sound and lifted them both up on his hips invitingly. But because Sarah loves to tease him, and because Satoru's skin tasted good and just a little salty from sweat, she bit and suckled all across his chest. Pulling the blood up to the surface long enough to leave dark red patches that would be purple soon enough. Biting at him until he hissed for relief. 

"Oh?" She chuckled. Sure enough, Satoru's cock was threatening to tear the cheap fabric. They never made these slutty little costumes for more than one use clearly. That or he just bought the first thing he saw without accounting for size. That was probably more likely.

Satoru raised an eyebrow to where Sarah's panties were visibly soaked, which Sarah pointedly ignored. Instead she hooked her thumbs in the tiny thong and started to tug them off. "Well let's take a look at this cow, hmm?" Sarah purred when they were gone. All that was left in front of her were miles of Satoru's big toned body, still pale even with the cute splotches of pink.

“Yeah,” Satoru hummed, pushing up her t-shirt, “I definitely have a lot of milk for you little farmer... Better make sure to get it all out, yeah?” 

Sarah’s shirt hit the ground before she tilted her head, "Oh don't worry. You'll be bone dry when I'm done with you, big guy."

“Get in here,” Satoru said impatiently, pulling Sarah up with his hand on the back of her neck. And suddenly Sarah couldn't believe she hadn't kissed him properly yet; that definitely had to have violated some law somewhere, taking so long to do that!

“Yeah,” breathed Sarah, between the presses of Satoru’s hot wet mouth into hers, "Satoru..."

Satoru let out one of his long lusty sighs, his voice low and breathy in that way that always made her body ache for him. Sarah pulled back to look at him, meeting that hot blue stare, his pretty mouth parted and wet and soft. She reached up, tracing his lower lip with her thumb and grinning lazily when Satoru whimpered. 

She couldn't wait any longer, her thumb resting on his lower lip. She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue snaking against his and his meeting hers with his usual ferocity.

The leather of the strap bit into his skin and hers as she plastered herself to his body, but neither of them happened to give a shit. Satoru gasped, the sweetest sound in the fucking world, when their hips pressed together. Sarah could feel his cock pressed up close along through her panties. It throbbed desperately, and because he was panting and flushed and desperate as always, she rocked nice and slow until he broke the seal on their kiss to moan loudly into her mouth.

"Ooh, that's it," Sarah mumbled, "Let me hear you, pretty cow."

Satoru laughed, but the sound quickly melted into a sweet little gasp and low groans while she rolled her hips into his. She ducked her head down, sucking just behind his ear. His damp snowy hair dripped onto her nose. 

Into her ear, Satoru breathed, "You're so sweet, baby -- I just want to touch you all over. I'll make you feel so good."

Sarah's breathing hitched, "Who's in charge here? The cow or the farmer?"

Satoru grabbed her, hooking his arms around her and suddenly she was beneath him. The cowbell around his neck clanged. He spread her legs, draping them around his waist and leaned down to scratch his teeth along the underside of her jaw, gripping hard at her thighs. His slid his hands up and over her soft skin, pressing into the muscle beneath. He cupped her breasts in two hands, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. The second they started to peak and harden under his touch, he groaned. 

She whimpered a little, still caught off guard by the sudden switch. Her mouth had fallen open as he teased her and he couldn't help himself. He kissed her again, his tongue taking up the space in her mouth that no other man would dare to invade.

"Let me fuck you, Miss Farmer, please," Satoru rasped. He grazed his teeth along the outer shell of her ear, rubbing his nose into the smell of her. "C'mon, sweetheart. I'll make you feel so fucking good. I'll make it last all afternoon. I'll fuck you until the sun goes down. Empty all this milk in you... On you... wherever you want. C'mon..."

Sarah moaned, biting her lip. "I'm supposed to milk you, not the other way around."

"Ohh, fuck, you're gonna milk me alright," Satoru said, grinning into her neck. He stopped rubbing his cock on her heat and she stubbornly twisted her hips against him, trying to get that sweet friction back. 

His chest rumbled as he continued, "Do you even understand how excited I was for this? I've been thinking about this since I ordered this cow thing." He grinded his cock hard against her, breathing in her ear, "All you gotta do is ask and I'll fuck you just how you want it. I'll make you feel so damn good, just how you know I can. All I wanna do is make you come, baby doll. It's all I can think about, sweetheart… Fuck, please, don’t leave me hangin’. I just wanna see you make a mess. I gotta see it, gotta feel how hot you are inside. C’mon, Sarah, oh fuck, baby! Let me get you off, please!” 

“Holy shit, Satoru,” Sarah hissed, clenching her fingers into his hair. 

He laughed, then started kissing her. Softly. Making her chase after it. "Mm, that a yes? It is right? Yeah? You gonna let me, right?"

“Yes!” Sarah whimpered, breathing hard. “Satoru! Yeah. C'mon!” 

When Satoru pulled back there were hectic splotches of color high on Sarah's cheeks, a deep blush heating up the skin on her chest and abs. He sat back on his heels, admiring the view for a moment, and raised an eyebrow, his own cheeks flushed red.

Satoru finally tore himself away, backing up to the edge of the bed with a few more soft clangs from the bell on his neck. Reaching up, he shucked down her panties in half a second and threw them across the room. Crawling back up the bed and hovering over her on his hands and knees, he licked his lips. She was spread out so pretty underneath him that he thought he might have a heart attack.

"Goddamn I love you," he mumbled, cupping her breasts again and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. He dipped his head down and scraped his teeth gently over the hard point of one. She slid her hand over the back of his head and into his fuzzy undercut. He could feel the breath in her chest hitching under his mouth.

He squeezed once again, feeling her muscles flex beneath her breast and swapped to the other side. This time he had a different plan of attack. With his tongue pointed, he flicked a few times then finally gave in and sucked. Sarah squirmed, and Satoru groaned against her skin.

“Satoru, I thought you were desperate to get in me,” she complained, but clearly loved it anyway. 

Satoru kissed up the long pretty pale line of her neck. “Not my fault that you’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.” 

“Shut up,” Sarah huffed, looking away as soon as their eyes met.

"What? You do," Satoru defended with a low chuckle. "You've always been beautiful, Sarah, so fucking pretty, don't you dare think otherwise. And now... Look at these curves, baby, how am I supposed to resist, huh?" 

With his hand, he rolled one of her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her back arched up and she whined. "Look at that... Shit, baby, you want it bad," Satoru mumbled. 

He lapped at the sweat in the hollow of her throat, shamelessly groping her tits with a sucking hiss. "I should have made you be the cow, and I mean that in the most sexy way possible. Someday I'm gonna make you wear it, and then I'll get you off just like this. You'd like that, yeah? I'll suck on these pretty little tits until I make you come."

"Mmn-- Aah!" She gasped, biting down on her lip, "Satoru that's just --"

"It's hot right?" He rasped, his voice husky as his tongue twirled around a nipple again, "You'd be such a mess. Maybe if I do it enough I'd really get some milk." His eyes glazed over for a moment and his lips curled into a smile, "Well... I guess there is an easier way to get that... But we'll save that for later. Maybe when we try the bunny suit, yeah?"

"Who's gonna be the bunny?" Sarah whined, and Satoru chuckled, his finger working it's way inside her. She gasped at the intrusion, and he might as well have too. She was so warm inside -- flushed all the way through. Her voice hitched, "Satoru, just -- please, you can just --"

"Hmm? You were so ready to tease me earlier, what changed?" he murmured, his middle finger slipping out to the tip before he plunged it back inside.

"You're a bastard," Sarah groaned, "A real grade-A -- asshole, Satoru Gojo."

"Mmhmm, how many times do you think I need it today?" Satoru asked casually, because she is absolutely right. Because he can be a grade-A asshole, but she loves it. "Two? Three? Or should I really make sure I'm wrung out, hmm? We got all night. No one is gonna bother us."

For some reason, she lurched up and kissed him deeply. She pulled him down on top of her and trapped him with her legs. As Satoru sat up again she smirked at him, "Whatever we gotta do to make sure we got everything, right?"

He laughed, low and husky. Damn, what he wouldn't do for this woman, looking at him with her bright happy eyes. He kissed her again and it was everything, the heat of her soft mouth and the heat inside her where his finger was stroking in lazy and slow curls.

Satoru mimicked the rhythm with his tongue and Sarah whimpered, her legs spreading just a bit further. He pressed his mouth to her neck -- she was so sensitive, everywhere, and it's only getting better the more he played -- and fit another finger inside where she was so tight and hot. The pads of his middle and ring fingers targeted her sweet spot and her head tipped back. She moaned so loudly, her jaw falling open and her eyes nearly crossing.

"Mmmn... That's right..." Satoru rumbled.

Her eyes were barely focused, trailing down his body to his cock. It was so red and huge. Fuck, he wanted to be inside her already, but it was so fun to see her like that.

“How many times do YOU need it today?" Satoru asked this time, twirling his fingers harder into her spot and chuckling as her eyes squeezed shut. 

"I-- I don't... Haaah Sa-Satoru I don't know..."

Satoru considered touching her clit, honestly it was difficult to hold back, and instead curled his fingers just right again, rubbing slowly and surely where it counted. "That's not an answer, sweetheart," he breathed, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

"Sa-Satoru! Aaah," she gasped, "Fuck I dunno... Three? C'mon please..."

When Satoru pulled away Sarah honest to God whimpered. "You asked for it," Satoru reminded her, dragging his slick fingers into his mouth. It's difficult not to dive in for more, especially when she's on her back with her legs spread for him. 

Sarah's eyes were on his cock, marveling at just how hard he was. The pink straps around his middle were already stretched, the cheap leather rubbing through and wearing thin. His little crop top was still pushed up, his chest bruising from her earlier assault. That devilish lustful look in his beautiful eyes made a fresh flush rise on her face.

He grinned, leaning in closer. Sarah's skin was so soft, inside her thighs, right where he was about to take up all the space. His space. He held his breath, pushing the head of his cock through her slick folds and into her soft hairs just above her clit. She squirmed and gripped his forearms. Her head fell back, exposing the line of her throat as she swallowed hard. Satoru repositioned, bracing his left hand beside Sarah's head, and started to push inside.

"Ah," She gasped, chewing at her lip. His cock reached her depths and he didn't even bother to wait. He built a nice steady rock right away, moving perfectly in time. The cow bell clanged with each thrust and it would have been hilarious if it they hadn't been so fucking invested.

"You feel so good," Satoru choked out. It's so hot, scorching inside her, "So fucking sweet, Sarah, shit!" Satoru’s eyebrows were knitted together, his eyes closed, and his mouth dropped open. 

"Ohhh fuck, Satoru... You're so good, baby," Sarah gasped out. Praise gets him the way nothing else does, and Satoru's hips staggered. The bell clanged louder for a moment and his breath came hard through his nose as he calmed himself down.

Sarah's hair was hanging in front of her eyes, damp with sweat. Satoru's abs and chest were slick too, the shitty leather digging into his thigh and the top soaking it up. Sweat trickled down to the curve of her collarbone and he considered biting all over her. Instead he settled for pressing both his thumbs hard into her hips, still moving steadily inside her.

Sarah arched in the hottest way, trying to take him deeper, just the lower dip of her spine pushing away from the bed, her ass and shoulders still down. Satoru gripped there, just at the top of the curve of that ass, all that tight plush skin.

"Damn," Satoru panted, "I wanna bite all over you. I want to show everyone you're mine. No fuckin' mistake."

Sarah's stomach was clenching, her legs tensing and shivering. Satoru recognized that moan, knew those clenched teeth and glazed eyes trained on nothing -- he's known it since he first got her into his bed and would never ever forget.

“That’s right,” Satoru rasped. With his left hand he twirled her clit. Damn, she was beautiful, her shivery needy moans. The bell rang out in time, bouncing hard off his chest as he sped up. “Baby, yeah, that’s right, I wanna see you, I wanna see it, baby doll; Sarah, you’re so fucking good to me —“ 

Easy as anything, she came. Overwhelmed by it, tightening up around Satoru inside, nails raking down his biceps and forearms. He watched those abs clench, the way her hips stutter and her pussy throb. And her face. Fuck! And the sounds she made for him. Blushing everywhere, moaning out loud, high and shocked. 

And Satoru, God help him, he had to do it. It made him crazy to watch her come like that. He pressed Sarah’s hips hard into the bed and pounded into her, jarring her lax exhausted body. He leaned down to bury his face in her neck, to bite, to breathe in. The cow bell muffled finally, pressing between their chests.

"Haaah! Sarah! Oh -- fuck, baby," he gritted out. It hit him hard, his hips jerking hard. He stayed deep inside Sarah as he finished, powerless not to. The last aftershocks rushed through him. Her hands pawed at him like she might drown if her hands weren't on him. Even though he had pure satisfaction settling into his bones, it was so fucking warm and sweet in her arms that he never wanted to move. He could just keep his dick tucked into her until the world ended. That sounded like a good plan, if he was being honest.

"Holy shit, sweetheart," he mumbled, pressing his face up into her hands and kissing her palm. "My baby, my pretty girl. I don't know how I take you anywhere without bending you over anything I can find."

"Pervert," she huffed in a laugh, tugging on his little cow headband with her fingers, "Don't say that dressed like this."

"You should praise me more," Satoru pouted playfully, pulling back, "I deserve an award or something. I don't know how I get anything done with you asking me to do shit like this."

"I definitely didn't ask for this specifically," she laughed, mindlessly massaging his thighs with both hands. 

"This bell is loud as fuck," he commented, flicking it with a loud Ting!

His come was hot and sticky between them, and when he slowly pulled out and got an eyeful of her freshly fucked pussy his dick twitched pitifully. He groaned, swiping his tongue over his lips and unsticking his death grip on her hips. She bruised so quickly and easily like a peach, the marks so dark on her skin. She always liked to wear shorts too so no one would miss his clear hand prints around her thighs. 

Good, he thought to himself with a smug snort.

Satoru kissed her sweetly, lulling her into a false sense of security. He dragged a pillow down the bed, plopping it down beside her and rolling her bodily over onto it. Face down, belly to the mattress and pillow under her hips. 

Sarah groaned, partially because she likes being manhandled, but mostly because, "Satoru, you dick, we're gonna stain the pillow."

"I'll buy you fifty more pillows," he huffed. He smoothed both of his hands up the expanse of her back, watching the muscles shift under her skin. "Besides, I've still got more to give you, little farm girl."

Sarah sighed in agreement and finally Satoru reached down to her ass and took in two perfect handfuls. Sarah had her arms folded under her head, her eyes closed and her cheek resting on her hands. She breathed deeply, unsurprised when Satoru's fingers glided through her folds again. She pushed her ass back and yelped with a laugh when he swatted it and thumbed her lips apart.

His come drooled out of her and Satoru thought he might die. But, his hand was forced. There was nothing left to do. There was only one option to take in this particular situation -- 

He laid down, his shins on the floor off the bed and torso draped over the comforter, and licked all around her pink opening. Kneading her ass with both of his big hands. He couldn't take her like his, all wet and messy and exhausted. The only thing he could think about was holding her down and fucking her again and again.

"You're filthy," she moaned, like she could read his mind -- which honestly he wouldn't be surprised if she could at this point. 

"You're wet," he mumbled through her labia, because really that should explain all his compulsions.

Satoru made no effort whatsoever to lick her clean. He liked her dirty with his mess and saliva. Instead he made it his mission to eat her out until she cried. He was so pushy about it, bullying his tongue into her and shaking his head and slurping. She was wriggling with over stimulation, but once he got her past that and into space she'd go limp and panting she'd give in to it. Just lay there on her belly and claw at the comforter, shifting her hips with her muscles tensing and releasing. Singing a song for only him to hear.

So, he did just that. Building her up slow with just his tongue. Just enough that she wouldn't call for him to stop. But then he buried his face in her. 

It's when he slid down enough to scrape his teeth on her sensitive lips and she really lost it, whining high in her throat. Her breath was turning into gasping sobs, because she wanted to get off but he just wouldn't let her. Instead he got his tongue inside, teasing it around the rim, and even using his teeth and fingers. He slipped in his thumb, licking around it, and when he pulled it out his own come was on it. 

"Mmmnn god you taste good," he moaned into her.

Satoru had patience when it came to this. Real, endless patience. Everything else in the world slipped right away because nothing was as important as her continued, quiet, hitching sounds when he nibbled real light and careful right at her lips. Just making a complete mess of her until she didn't know anything but his name.

Time turned into nothing, stretching on without anything but the sounds of her moans and his breathy grunts and sighs. Finally he pulled back, sinking his teeth into the meat of her ass and easily stuck two fingers inside her. Her muscles clenched immediately and he groaned a long low sound that melted into a laugh.

"You're drooling," he whispered, leaning up on his knees to kiss at her shoulders. They shivered like she was cold, but it was clear that she was so close to coming she was just lost in the sauce. "You like it, baby? Hmm? You like it when your man gets you all messed up?"

Sarah made some kind of pathetic mewl. She was far too gone, but Satoru still wanted to hear words. He dug his fingers into her scalp, tugging on her hair and her whole body shuddered hard.

“Say it to me,” Satoru murmured, “Say it to me sweetheart, I wanna hear it. Are you gonna come?” 

She made another sound, a muffled, elongated "ah," and Satoru pressed his knuckles down into her sweet spot. He turned her head to look at her face, sucking through his teeth when he saw how wet her eyelashes were and how red her face was. He wanted that sight burned into his retinas.

“You’re s-so good,” Sarah praised him suddenly, “Satoru... I-- I can’t take it... Aaahnn! you’re so good.” 

Well, that's enough fucking around then.

His fingers pinched her clit and he drove his knuckles hard into her spot, fucking her hard with his fingers. She came immediately, wailing, tearing at the comforter, her body shaking and seizing up hard around Satoru's fingers. Her breaths came like huge heaving sobs and hiccups when she finally started to fall back to Earth.

Satoru hadn't seen anything so beautiful in his life. Which is of course what the thinks every time he makes this happen. Somehow he forgot how hard it gets him and how hot he'd suddenly feel under his skin watching her fall apart. Her forehead rolled against the sheets, catching her breath and smiling lazily.

“You did so good,” Sarah praised, “Baby, that was amazing, I can’t believe —“ 

“Two down,” Satoru said, “One to go.” 

She gasped, then smirked at him. She shifted her hips, a little wiggle and purrs, "Well, c'mon then cow boy."

The grin on his face would probably be permanent after this mess.

He grabbed her, thrusting inside in one quick and sure stroke with a heavy clang of the cow bell. There was absolutely no time to wait. Absolutely not. He held her sturdy hips in both hands and really gave it to her. Really, really fucked her hard and breathless. The cow bell clanged and clanged, almost covering up his loud groaning swears and gasps.

She clawed the bed sheets up under her hands, moaning low in her throat. Satoru reached down, yanking her head up by the hair and she slipped a hand beneath her body to twirl her clit. 

Something snapped. That was it, game over. He pressed her face down hard into the mattress, the other hand gripping her ass hard and fucking her as hard and fast as he wanted. She got off first with a choked-off moan, her hips jarring out of rhythm with his. He saw no other option than to hold her down even harder. That fucking bell was ringing so loud he was sure it was changing his brain chemistry.

It only took a few more strokes while her cunt desperately milked him and he was coming too. Moaning shamelessly loudly and panting. She was twisting and writhing, her feet pressed up into his ass from behind. He was losing his mind in that white-hot goodness.

Finally, she nudged at him to get off and she rolled over onto her back with her legs splayed wide. She was covered in sweat and filled with his come, and he spread out beside her on his stomach, throwing the bell off onto the floor to lay without it digging into him. 

“I think I’m dead,” Satoru mumbled into the sheets, "That was fuckin' amazing."

Sarah sighed, looking over his way and tugging at one of the cute little ears on his head band, "This is pretty cute... I think we'll have to keep it."

He snorted and grinned, "Oh, we're definitely keeping it."

"I liked your little cow panties," she grinned and he laughed, hiding his face in his arms. If he was being honest, it was a little embarrassing, but he wouldn't chicken out for a request for her even if he'd apparently gotten it wrong.

She stretched out her legs, rolling onto her side. “I feel like I got mauled by a bear,” she complained, but when she looked over at him she had a grin on her face.

“More like a bull," Satoru laughed and buried his face as she swatted playfully at his head, just as he expected. 

“I KNEW you were gonna say that!" She laughed, and he rolled over and yanked her into his arms.

“Let’s take a shower,” he suggested, nuzzling his head into her hair.

"I just took one before you defiled me," she teased.

“Yeah, ‘cause you asked for it," he teased, sneering at her.

“Quit talking shit,” Sarah laughed, sitting up to kiss his forehead.

Satoru tilted his head and grinned. “You like it.” 

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes, looking up at the little cow ears. He watched her hand as it reached up, her fingers feeling around for a moment. There was a soft click.

"Moo! 💕"

They looked at each other as the ears let out a robotic, tinny cow sound. There was a full five seconds of silence between them before they cracked up, laughing so hard tears rolled down their cheeks.

If you liked that I also do custom commissions for smut! Check it out if you want your own OC to meet the cow boys or literally anything dudes I'm pretty flexible!

PART 2 ON THE WAY!!

Suguru is next hehehehhee

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?

Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.

The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"

So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!

But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.

And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.

The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.

Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.

Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.

"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.

"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."

Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."

"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."

Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."

Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."

"My eyes change color."

"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."

Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."

"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"

"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."

Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."

Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."

And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"

Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.

Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"

Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."

"Not the point!"

"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."

Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."

He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"

Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."

Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"

"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."

Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"

Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."

"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"

Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."

"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."

And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.

(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)

(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

[toothfa-1-ry]

Little Miss Diggory

"Is that her?" You whisper as you lean towards the sandy haired boy who was slightly frowing

"Yea" cedric breathed out as he noticed Rita Skeeter and her abomination of a outfit

Your quote un quote bestfriend Cedric diggory was chosen as one of the contestants for the tri wizard competition which lead to being interviewd by a certain witch called Rita Skeeter who had a rather infamous reputation, not the good kind of course

"She seems" your lost for words as you look at her "interesting"

"She's bloody mad, completly lost her marbles" cedric rambles, obviously annoyed as he attempts to block you away from her vision. His light Irish accent suddenly flaring up which only happened when he was uncomfortable

The fact usually kind and sweet cedric diggory was calling someone mad, you knew that whatever you had heard of Rita skeeter before, she must have been worser than her rumours

"Don't make eye contact" he whispered

You nodd, quickly turning your head away but it's too late, Rita skeeter had locked eyes with you and a nasty grin forms on her face when she sees cedric with you

"Yoohoo! Cedric!" She cried out in a patronizing sing song voice as she approaches the both of you

You suddenly feel the urge to cling to your books and hide behind cedric

Cedric grimace before he turns around, putting on a forced awkward smile "Rita... I wish I could say it's a pleasure"

"Oh you naughty boy!" Rita's giggles in a high pitch tone "I'm back here again for another interview, a more casual one of course" she says as she ogles between you and cedric

Cedric notices and comes inbetween you and Rita "well shall we go somewhere else than?"

He seriously did not want Rita skeeter among all people to talk to you, God knows what she might write about you. It was already bad enough that Rita had written about him in such a patronizing way

"Oh no" Rita motions cedric to move away "I want to know, who this is" her eyes widen as he looks at you

Cedric inwardly groans, he whispers "I'm really sorry, i didn't want to get you into this"

You nodd, squeezing his arm which seemed to be the wrong thing to do as Rita Skeeter suddenly gasp and her pen begin writing something down

"Oh my your very pretty" Rita came closer to you, her manicured nails now rest on your shoulders "i bet Mr diggory here thinks your very pretty don't you?" She questions cedric

"I mean- well yes" cedric blurts out, his face rather pink with the suddenly confrontation "but I'm not sure why that's relevant right now"

"What about you sweetheart?" Rita questions you

"Cedric and I are good friends" you manage to mutter put before she cuts you in again

"Good friends? Bestfriends? Whats your name dearie?"

You give a confused look as you nodd slowly "im y/n uh l/n and-"

She cuts you off again

"Well do you fancy him? Is this a friends to lovers sort of thing? Ooh now that's something I like" Rita nodds excitedly as her feather pen moves even faster

You notice Cedrics red face with matched yours aswell "Oh i-"

But neither of you can butt in to say anything

"Tell me, how does it feel that your boyfriend" she points at cedric "is in the triwizard competition? Are you happy? Worried? Scared"

Your face goes bright pink "Oh cedric's not my..."

"Y/n and I are good friends" cedric manages to say from underneath the tint of red which clouded his face

"Oh pish posh!" Rita skeeter exclaims as she hit cedric with a pen which made you sneer slightly "you can tell me anything dear! Now tell me how did the both of you start dating?"

"We're not dating-"

"My my... your quite private aren't you" Rita raises her eyebrows as she purses her lips, obviously annoyed at the lack of intell "no worries, ill just have to make up an interesting story"

"Rita i think that's enough for today" Cedric announces, sensing your uncomfortablness

"Oh! But one last question! One last!"

Exasperated cedric sighs as you brace yourself for whatever the last question it may be

"If you had to rate your experience with your boyfriend" she wiggles her eyebrows "ehm.. how much would you rate him?"

Your face flushes a deep crimson, before you can even manage to squeak out a response cedric cuts it off

"Okay that's it" he grabs your hand and rushes off despite Rita Skeeter's protest

"Would you say that he's a good kisser miss y/n? If you don't answer I'm gonna take that as a yes" you could hear Rita skeeter bellow from down the hallway

[fbfh]

Hello, a request please, how does Leo react if he discovers that his girlfriend (reader) is a minor goddess, daughter of Poseidon and host (Percy goes into brother mode)

disclaimer that I haven't read the kane chronicles yet and don't feel like I really know enough to write about that so this will be more focused on the whole minor goddess thing bc I LOVE this ask.

You're a minor - and very new - goddess, so most people haven't even heard of you. Your dad is poseidon, and your mom is a sweetbay magnolia dryad, so your dad ended up entrusting you to watch over the coast, and everyone who lives there. Anywhere the water meets the land is your domain. It's a pretty niche job, but you have fun quietly tending to the plants and animals, all the little otters and beavers and water birds. you especially loved the long island sound near camp half blood. eventually you asked your dad if you could stay there, pretend to be a normal teenager for a while. he thought of your brothers, Percy and Tyson, and decided that was a good idea. So he talked to Chiron and sent you over, informing Percy he has another half sibling. Even though it was a little rough at first, you bonded with him so fast, turning into the dynamic brother sister duo you'd both always hoped for.

then you met Leo.

He fell first, and he definitely fell harder. Leo has been enamored with you, practically drooling over you since day 1. Of course this really didn't do much to fix the occasionally tense relationship between him and Leo - if anything it exaserbated it more. You never really outright told Percy what you are, he just sort of... pieced it together over time. You were a little scared to tell him. You were scared of how he'd react, that he'd be mad at you for lying or hate you for what the other gods have put him through. You can still remember sitting at the bottom of the lake with him, watching the sun set from underwater.

"Percy, I need to tell you something. I just- I don't want you to be mad at me."

that got his attention.

"It's about- um- it's about me... who I am. What I am." You'd continued, the horrible knot in your stomach eating away at you, getting bigger and bigger. your pulse raced and your hands shook. He looked over at you, but you kept your eyes firmly on the surface of the water, glowing coral and green in the fading light.

"I know what you are."

he had said it so surely, your heart sunk.

"You're my sister."

you looked over at him, and he knew that if you were on the surface there would be tears prickling in your eyes. You sputtered something and he cut you off, his new york accent getting stronger as he felt a surge of older brother protectiveness through him.

"you're my fuckin' sister." You looked at him and saw everything else he wasn't saying. you're my sister, and that's it. I don't care what else you are, because I'm your brother and you're my sister and that's all I care about.

Ever since then you'd started feeling a little more comfortable about your status as a god. you didn't hide the way certain birds and animals would flock to you, or how just being near the water made all surrounding plants flourish. and eventually, with percy's unspoken support, you decided to tell Leo. You've been going out with him for long enough where you already know most of each other's secrets, and you just feel like it's time. You're walking along the coast, your hand entwined with Leo's warm one as he plays with your fingers.

"Did I- uh, did I ever tell you about my mom?"

You hadn't, and Leo's intrigued. He knows about your dad - hell, he's even met him once. But you never mentioned your mom. You start telling him about her and he listens with rapt attention.

"She's great with plants, too. She's, uh... a dryad, actually. Lives in a sweetbay magnolia tree."

You're quiet for a moment, hoping he'll put two and two together. You see a million thoughts and realizations and emotions flash through him so fast you'd miss it if you blinked. Then finally, he nods.

"So you're..."

"Yup." You say softly. "In charge of the coast. Where land meets sea."

A frog hops over to you and you smile, bending down and scooping him up. He puffs up his throat proudly, and you pet him a little. Leo watches you as you two continue to walk leisurely. The sun hits the water and the trees, basking you in a glittering light and soft shade at the same time. And it makes sense, he thinks. this little strip of land full of plants and animals, where you get your ankles splashed by the tide and get sand between your toes... you look at home here. And you are. Leo realizes that every time you've taken him on one of your little walks like this, you've been inviting him into your world without him even realizing it. it fills him with a sense of warmth and awe and gratitude like nothing he's experienced before. and in that comfortable silence, you know he has your back. Besides, he's sure Percy would kick his ass if he didn't.

[voxslays]

Angel’s “Goodie Two Shoes.”

Warnings >>> A lil angst, swearing.

(This almost took up three entire pages on google docs. lol.)

It was an average Tuesday in hell. Everyone at the hotel was socializing, until Angel walked in. That's when the fighting began.

“That's bullshit. You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Husk points at Pentious. “That one. That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep!” Husk gestures at Charlie next. “Princess, is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everybody else's problems 'cept her own.” He rolls his eyes. The others try to deny the accusations. ​​”And you!” Husk scoffs as he looks at Angel. “Don't get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.” Angel moves closer to Husk. “You weren't kidding! Oh ho, wow! Kittens got claws~” He aggressively flirts. “Angel. Enough.” You try to de-escalate the situation. Husk visibly stiffens. “Awww~ Are you jealous?~” He flirts, putting his hands on you.

“Angel. I'm serious. Stop.” You shut him down. “This is hell baby, what did you expect? Flowers?” He says in his thick Brooklyn accent. “You’re making everyone here, including myself uncomfortable! Stop!” You raise your voice to just below a yell. “You know what? Fuck you. I don't give a shit what some drunk ass bartender,” he motions to husk, and then to you, “or some goodie-goodie thinks a' me.” Angel was trying to hide the hurt he felt from your rejection by putting on some ‘classy’ sunglasses. “So why don't you just crawl back to whatever cave you came from, porn critics”. Husk growls annoyed at his comment as Angel flips both of you off, with all four of his hands.

You angrily stomp up to your room and slam the door shut. Charlie pokes her head into the hallway, hearing the door slam and a cry. Her affectionate instincts flare within her, she walks to the room and knocks on the door. “Hey….Y/N? Are you okay?” She asks, a tone of concern in her voice. “I'm fine..” You wipe your tears. “Please go away.” *Charlie frowns, worried. This was the second time something like this is happening. Charlie gently puts a hand on the door. No you're not. You're crying,” She pauses. “Can you please let me in?” She asks gently. Charlie waits for a response, shifting her feet as worry and concern fill her heart. She doesn't like when people are upset, especially in her own hotel. She gently knocks again. “Please?” You open the door. Charlie wastes no time in throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. She can feel her own heart breaking that yet another person is crying. 

“Angel called me a ‘goodie two shoes’…is that true?” You say through your tears. Charlie pulls back, gently taking your face in her hands. “Of course not! You're not a ‘goodie two shoes’...You're a good person. You are kind, empathetic, and sweet. You care about people. You make the people around you happy. Angel is just...being Angel…” She trails off. “Don't overthink it.”

“I think I have feelings for Angel.” Charlie blinks, letting go of her. “You have feelings for Angel Dust?” Her eyes are filled with mild disbelief. “You...like Angel??” You sigh. “I do.” Charlie’s face lights up with excitement. “That's great! You should go tell him!” She exclaims happily. “I can't. He is really upset with me…” You say sadly, tears still forming in your eyes. “Just go talk to him. I'm sure things will turn out okay. I promise.” You look up at her, wiping your tears. “Are you sure?” You ask, still a little skeptical. “Yes.” She responds.

You walk into the lobby and sit on one of the sofas, reading a magazine. Angel sat down next to you, his long spider-like legs stretching out in front of him as he huffed. The tall and skinny demon’s expression was sullen and tired, his gloved hands fidgeting with the bowtie around his neck. He didn’t immediately say anything, opting to try and gather his thoughts first. After a small moment of silence, Angel took a deep breath and spoke up, his voice quieter than usual but still holding its usual hint of sass. “Look. I know I’ve been real shitty to ya lately. But I’m not tryna be, it’s just how I deal with stuff. Not that what I deal with gives me an excuse to treat ya bad or nothing.. I just.” Angel huffed again, frustrated with his ability to find the words.

“You were right though. I am a goodie two shoes.” Angel laughed slightly at that, shaking his head. He ran his hand through his long fluffy locks and said, “Yeah, yeah ya kinda are Toots. I may just be the right amount of bad boy to get you to break a rule or two.” Angel reached his hand out and gently lifted your chin, turning your head towards him. His usual smug expression was softened, and his usual sass was replaced with genuine worry. “But seriously suga’. Are you alright? I don’t want ya thinkin I don’t care about ya, ya dig?”

“Did Husk put you up to this? Talk some sense into you?” Angel looked away, refusing to meet your gaze. He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that Husk had gotten involved in their fight. There was a long pause. “…I dunno if I’d say that exactly. More like gave me a smack upside the head and told me to stop being a jackass.” It was your turn to laugh softly at him. Angel chuckled in return, and leaned his head back against the filthy brick wall behind him. He looked up at the night sky, his long legs stretching out before him as he spoke in a quiet voice, “I meant what I said though doll. I really don’t mean to act like such an ass. I..I really do care about you sugartits.”

“The only reason I was upset is because I knew you were right.” You say sadly. Angel quirked an eyebrow at that comment, and shifted his gaze back over towards you. “You… Wait what?” He asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me you’re really upset cause I hurt ya feelings instead of because I was being a prick?” Angel was dumbfounded, his expression morphing into one of complete bewilderment. It was the last answer he’d ever expect you to give. He sat there processing your response for a moment, his mouth hung slightly open in shock. After a few moments he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Babe. You really are a goodie two shoes.”

Angel chuckled and reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was genuine and soft, the usual sarcasm replaced with sincerity. “If it makes you feel better, I really was just spouting random bullshit. I only said that to get under your skin. You seriously have no idea how much I’m into how pure and sweet you are, toots.”

“Easy there angel. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a crush on me.” You tease. Angel let out another small laugh and rolled his eyes, a smirk spreading across his lips. He leaned a bit closer, and said in a low voice, “Darlin, if I’m honest, that’s exactly what’s goin’ on here. I’ve absolutely got a crush on you, Babycakes.” You look shocked.

Angel placed his hand on your thigh, and added, “You’ve no idea how cute you are dollface. So sweet and pure. I’m completely head over heels for ya.” He smirks. “Me too.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. Angels smirk morphed into a genuine, albeit shy, smile. His cheeks flushed a light pink and he chuckled sheepishly at the show of affection. He reached up with his lower set of hands, cupping your chin and running his thumb over your lips. “You’re lucky I’m a sap for a goodie two shoes, doll.” Angel teased, his voice still low and soft. “I guess I am.” You say, as you two spent the night in eachothers arms.

[a66-1]

starving.

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

Part 1 | ???

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen. (these tw are for the whole thing, im pretty sure this is gonna be a series)

a/n: hey. if you need help, dm me. ill talk to you if you need it :). (also i made my banners. if you want one dm me! i make them for free, just with credit :)) NOT PROOF READ

i hope your doing okay honey.

Stepping out of the shower, the towel around you just big enough to touch ends is slipped around yourself. Showering is getting harder. You can barely stand glancing at the mirror now.

You dry yourself off, and hand the towel back up. You can do it, just walk past the mirror to grab your clothes.

You take the steps past the mirror, and turn your back to the mirror to change. Slipping your bra on, and it squishes the skin on your back and you grimace.

Once your dressed, you turn back around. The nagging voices are just waiting to pounce. I mean, what? You used to be so skinny.

You used to be pretty.

You decided to let your hair air dry, and you walk into your bedroom. You had work today, but you really wish you didn't. It was a bad week, you'd skipped 3 meals in the last few days and you know what your therapist would say.

'The progress you've made, hun. You can't go back now.'

The bad days are getting too close to each other now. You used to have at least a week between them, but now it's barely 48 hours. Maybe being off medicine isn't working good anymore.

Maybe you're no good.

You throw in a big hoodie, one that covers you, and some sweat pants, glancing at the big mirror in your room.

You can't stop analyzing yourself.

There's not one good thing on you is it?

Fuck.

The rest of the day was spent at your stupid 9-5, with your stupid boss, in your stupid, lonely life. Christ, being off anti-depressants is really hitting you hard. Everyone at your job is stupid and today every customer who wants to blow you ear off about how you kids these days, by the end of the day, your so tense that your shoulders are aching.

You got about 30 minutes left at this off-brand kroger store, when a big, big ass man walks in, shoving a mask with a skull print on it on. You curse to yourself, you really don't want to have to call the police for a robbery, you just want to go home.

To be honest, if he had a gun, you'd be half tempted to let him shoot you-

"Ma'am?" A heavy British accent came from your right. You turn your head, and scan his few items. You don't bother with the how are you's and you sigh.

"It'll be 16.84." You drag your eyes to his, and he reaches to his pocket, pulling out..

A wallet. What else were you thinking?

He hands you a twenty, and you hand him his respective change. He bags his own items, because honestly, you seem like the only worker in the store. Your face is written with exhaustion, whether it be from this job or something else, and the guy notices.

"Have uh... A good day." He nods to you, and walks off.

You purse your lips, and sigh, closing your cashier, because fuck finishing today. You're too close to a breakdown, and you're not trying to let anyone see.

You drive home, your hands tight around the wheel. You know it's a bad idea to be driving this emotional, to the point you wonder what would happen if you swerve your car into a tree.

You won't do it though.

You need to get back out there. It's why you stopped taking your meds.

You promise yourself that tomorrow you'll go out, and at least get a one night stand, you want need, anything.

Once home and in bed, you scroll and scroll and scroll. Doom scrolling is too common on these longer nights. You have a pillow tucked into your arm, and your hand squeezes it every time that pang in your lower chest rings out. Loneliness, you think.

You always scroll through your old friends instagrams or snapchats, seeing their nice bodies and nice boyfriends. You've been so nice and kind and karma should be on your side, but it always failed.

Especially after your last boyfriend.

Your friends say to wait.

To wait.

To wait.

But waiting is getting harder. Days are getting longer, and your head seems to spin more when left to its own devices. Why do you have to wait?

Your looks.

Your personality.

Who'd wanna be seen with you?

You flip your phone over, and shove your face in the pillow, your breathing staggered.

You fell asleep late, that night. The tears brought you to exhaustion.

woah why did this take 2 tries to write.

be waiting for pt.2

TRUST FINALS ARE SOOM COMING TO AN END and summer i will be STEWING TRUST!!!

Taglist!

@i-am-hungry-24-7

thank you for all the support. drunk simon blew up and im crying bc i came back after a 2 year hiatus and i wasn't getting the same feedback as usual so to finally seeing people enjoy my work again makes me feel great. <3

sorry simon wasn't in this part much. you gotta know the reader first tho, right?

bye babes..

-a661

[daisybianca]

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: max was your ex who chose to cheat on you. now he wants you back. too bad you're already someone else's...

warnings: cursing words, possessiveness

(a/n): don't get me wrong, i love max. soneone had to be the bad guy, though.

WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKED on your door at ten in the evening, you didn't expect it to be Max. He was holding flowers in his hand and was completely soaked from the rain.

He looked... well, he was fine.

Just like you remembered him.

Tall, strong, blond hair, dreamy but also empty eyes.

You could see absolutely no emotion in him.

He had been a chapter in your life someday. A really important one, you had to admit. But now you had already turned the page.

Did he even know that?

“(y/n)… um… hi,” he said, his eyes glistening.

Hi? Really?

Fuck no.

You were sure he'd have something better to say to those tall, blond Germans he fucked while you still had a relationship with him.

"I'm so, so sorry." He took a breath. "You're not answering my calls or texts, so I came here so I could speak to you myself."

Wrong choice.

"Please, let me talk to you, baby."

Before you could even take a breath to answer, a voice came from behind you.

"Honey, who are you talking to over there?" Lando opened the door wide enough for Max's face to be revealed. Max's red face.

"What the hell?" Max took a small step back, his expression almost too funny for you to handle. "Lando?"

"Max." Lando stepped ahead, protectively covering your body with his, fully filling Max's view so he couldn't see you hidden beside him.

Neither of the three of you knew what to say at that moment, and you just stared at each other for a few seconds.

"What are you doing here?" Max's question was totally out of context. You could tell he was astonished.

"Livin', actually." Lando responded, his British accent kicking in. "What are you doing here?" His beautiful eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Stopped by to see my girl," Max raised his chin up.

Lando laughed. You almost let a giggle escape as well.

"Well, let me clarify," Lando started, dramatically clearing his voice as if he were to give a speech. "This is my home," he mentioned to the apartment around us. "This is my soon wife-to-be," His hand wrapped around your back possessively. "And these fucking flowers are for the trash can." He said and grabbed the door's handle. "Thank you for stopping by. Also, make sure you shove these up your ass. She's allergic to gardenias, you stupid piece of shit."

Lando closed the door with a loud sound.

A few seconds passed, and he turned to look at you. Before he could say anything, you felt a tickle in your nose and gave up to the sneezing.

You sneezed once.

Twice.

Three times in a row.

Before the fourth one, Lando had already picked you up, locking you in his hands. "Sometimes you make me wonder about your taste in men."

You laughed before sneezing again. "He's not a man."

"Yeah, I know." Lando replied, placing a small peck on your lips. "He's the stupidest boy I know."

[vxmpjules]

˚ · • . ° ꫝ🇪 𝔞Ⓡ︎𝘁ᗷℯ𝕒꓄

⋆·˚ ༘ * " i don't believe in consistency"

C; Hobie brown ~ Spiderpunk x SpiderPerson!reader

Prns; Gender neutral, feminine traits.

Warnings; Mentions of hookups, no actual smut

As everyone knew Hobie wasn't consistent in anything, in his bands, friends, most stuff. Only consistent thing was his position as spider-punk, and surprisingly you, you two have been best friends since you met each other, you both instantly clicked.

You both where inseparable, both chaos in your own ways. You loved his opinion and care free style, and he loved well... Everything about you really.

One day things got heated and you both found warmth in each other. Which you knew was one of the worst mistakes you could've ever done, you should've never hooked up, it was wrong. You had told hobie to just keep things normal after that, no talking about it, nothing. You didn't want to ruin your friendship and turn it into something difficult, you couldn't fall in love with someone at this time, not with Hobie.

Until... You came crying, your canon event finally happened to you, and you found comfort in Hobies arms. It was something other than just some lazy hookup, this actually sparked something, and you regretted it again, Hobie started being kinda-ish different, he seemed more protective of you, or got cold when you mentioned you going on dates or finding other people attractive.

You thought to yourself that was just a normal friendship thing, but you couldn't deny those feelings either. But you ignored them and became more distant to Hobie, it was wrong and you felt horrible, you cared and loved Hobie, but it couldn't pass more of the best friends line.

This confused Hobie, he didn't know how to feel, he wasn't good with this whole romantic thing, sure he had his girlfriends before, but feeling something for someone so close to him, wasn't on his list. He felt frustrated because of you, you weren't helping, distancing yourself for no reason and being distant, he felt lost, he needed to do something quick.

You had a little boyfriend, which was a stupid decision, knowing that deep down the only boy you wanted was Hobie and you knew he want too. You just didn't know how to handle it, you ruined your relationships quickly, you where always with people you didn't like so it be easier to discard them, you never tried anything with Hobie because you didn't want to loose him, one wrong move and you could loose him forever, you where lucky enough he stayed by your side all this time.

Your boyfriend was making breakfast, as you walked around in one of Hobies shirts, not that your boyfriend would know so you didn't care. You had put your phone next to your boyfriend, being easy to see any notification or message that popped on your screen as you grabbed some orange juice to drink.

Just as you where drinking the juice a text from Hobie appeared on your screen, it wasn't anything bad really just a simple "When can i see you" but that could be misunderstood quickly, before you could grab your phone your boyfriend had already saw the message, with a furrowed brows he questioned "Who's Hobie?" With a sigh you say "Just a friend of mine" as you jump off the counter and take your phone with you.

Your boyfriend finished with the breakfast and served your plate before going up to you and kissing you before he left for work, Eating the breakfast you heard a soft knock on your window.

You raised your brown and went over to check the window, seeing hobie hanging upside down, with a sigh you open the window for him to enter, your heart beating faster at his presence. These times anything could happen with you both, but you knew that whatever happened you would distance yourself again.

"Hi" he greets, with his British accent as he makes himself at home and sits on your couch. "Hi 'bee" you greet back, using the nickname you gave him the first time you met, you eyed him, watching him scan the surroundings. Noticing someone else's shoes and jackets, from the last time he was here the only things that weren't your's were his. "Got someone here?" He innocently asks looking up to you, his heart beat faster at one of the polaroids taped on the wall.

Seeing you and another boy in the photo, both smiling happily. He kept looking at you waiting for an answer as his heartached, "That's my... Uhm my boyfriend" you respond as you look down, avoiding his gaze. "So that's what you've been doing all this time, eh?" He noted with a cold tone, he couldn't handle this, you stopped talking, hanging out with him for this idiot? He knew that deep down it should be him, the one in the picture with you, the one leaving his stuff in your house, the one making you breakfast, the one holding you tight all nights as you sleep, not some idiot.

You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, you couldn't look at him, at the only person you care about, the one that runs your mind 24/7. You felt guilty choosing some prick over him, you didn't want your boyfriend, you only wanted Hobie.

Hobie stood up the sofa, seeing you still gazing at the floor, walking over to you, he lifted you chin up for you to look at him. Your eyes where watery you didn't know what to do, your heart ached as you wrapped your hands around his neck. This was wrong, you where gonna hurt yourself and him.

Hobie took your chin and kissed you on the lips, giving you a soft and tender kiss, you leaned in his touch before he pulled away, he wiped one of your tears with his thumb before he said something that he shouldn't have said.

"I love you" he whispered with a small smile, before more tears left your eyes, you couldn't do this, "You shouldn't be here." You commented as you got away from him, nodding over at the window.

Hobie frowned at your words, he could almost feel some tears run down his own cheeks before leaving silently.

There's gonna b a part 2 lmao

[genderqueerpond]

You know, I think Clara knew about Amy.

Not at first, of course, but Clara grew up with her --- that is, grew up reading Amelia Williams books. And they were precious to her, books she's read many times over the course of her childhood -- how else does she know exactly which chapter holds what in the book she gave Artie? Perhaps she has always felt connected to her, this moderately obscure children's fantasy author, following in the footsteps of E Nesbit; this contemporary (and sometime friend (oh yes!) ) of Edward Eager's; although not nearly as widely known as either of these. Perhaps because of her choice to publish openly under a "woman's name", thus, in the time in which she lived, relegating her books to the inferior realm of "girls' books", despite the more than equal balance of male viewpoint characters.

But Amelia Williams is different from these authors too -- often fantasy, but sometimes more like early science fiction, a barely- recognized pioneer in both genres. Her views were feminist and daring. In so many ways she was ahead of her time, and the innovations she imagined! almost as if she knew what the future would hold.

And if Clara knows and loves her books so well, she can hardly fail to recognize the most frequently repeated character archetype in them. especially after she rereads a few on a subconscious hunch, during that summer after the Maitlands found a permanent nanny and she insisted that before anything else, she go off and fulfill her original travel plans from 101 Places To See. (The Doctor purported to leave her alone to forge her own way with this, but was in actuality very bad at that, and kept popping up nearly every place she went.) She's Clara, she's clever, how can she fail to look up from her book and notice that the person who's just appeared out of nowhere to stand in front of her with a plate of jammie dodgers and a goofy smile has stepped directly out of the pages?

And then of course, there are the dedications. Sure, there's normal stuff like "to my daughter", "to my loving and patient husband", and "to my parents, who are children now" which is rather weird and whimsical, but fits in with the fantasy author's signature style of dream-like imagination.

But the majority of Amelia Williams' dedication pages say things like "to You", "to My Doctor", "to My Raggedy Doctor" "to my raggedy man" (weird but clearly connected to the other variants), and, cryptically, over and over again: "to you", "to you", "to you", "to you (wherever in time and space you are)".

There's "to my imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and to all children who have an imaginary friend" and "to my imaginary friend, and every child in the universe who's ever met him, or ever will". Nerds and English teachers have occasionally debated what, if anything, she meant by all this, and now Clara thinks she knows, but she can never say....

And then there are the nights that the Doctor wakes up crying out for "Amy!" and then refuses to talk about it when Clara asks, refuses to acknowledge ever even knowing an Amy, "well everyone shouts random things when they're asleep, it doesn't mean anything" and "I don't remember." if pressed for details about his dreaming. And later he might go off somewhere and cry quietly, reading a book he never lets Clara see.

And then he regenerates, and calls out for "Amelia!", "the first face this face saw."

There's newborn twelve, with his Scottish accent, letting her name slip. It's the first - and only - time he's spoken of her while awake and not actively dying. And Clara is too busy with the immediate threat to their lives to think about it in the moment, but at this point she at the very least has a hunch about the connection between him and the Scottish-American author with the rather opaque background --- that as far as anyone can trace it (although to be fair, no one really cares enough to try very hard) she and her husband just kind of appeared out of nowhere in pre-WWII New York. It seems kind of obvious, now, that the doctor would have had a hand in that.

And now with all the books everywhere, the library gradually migrating into the console room, what else is obvious is that he owns every single one of her books. multiple copies, first editions, last editions, signed copies, mass paperbacks, everything. There's a TARDIS key hidden in a well-worn, well-loved, tear streaked copy of The Cuckoo And The Doll's House, which Clara finds when she's cataloging all the locations of TARDIS keys, just in case she should ever need that information one day.

This all is enough for Clara to know. There doesn't really need to be any more proof, but there is. What totally and fully clinches it are the pictures. Tucked in the pages of another tearstained book (The Beast Below this time), are photographs of Amelia, looking just as she does in her black and white author photos, but younger, and in 21st century clothes. Elsewhere, later, she finds photo booth polaroids of a still younger Amelia, goofing off and smiling. Some of them feature another young man Clara doesn't recognize, and some of them feature the Doctor. He's wearing a tweed jacket instead of his purple wool, and no vest, but otherwise he is exactly the same as the Doctor she first met. The three of them hang off each other like old friends, like family.

idk how to end this.

[redbullgirly]

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly. 

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat.  You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)

[interstellarsystem]

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

[allllium]

Heyaaa, I have a request! If it's not too much trouble, have you listened to too sweet by Hozier.. that song with the tf 141 boys (if it could be Ghost, it would be great!!)

Thanks in advance!!! And it's perfectly fine if you don't wanna!

Too Sweet for Me

~ I'm really sorry this took so long, I have not been feeling great but here it is. I hope you like this because honestly I am terrible at comprehending songs but I think this fits pretty well :)

~ If you're not happy with this for any reason please let me know and I will happily redo it with your advice <3

~ Fluff, WC: 1,189

~ Ghost seems to think you're too sweet for him

You have a crush on Simon Riley. You know this, and so does everyone else, including him. Despite the very obvious adoration on your part he's never said anything about it.

You honestly have no idea how he feels about you and you're not sure you want to know. You do tons of little things for him and he does things for you, but that's all your relationship entails.

You are both so different it's not like you could ever fit together so perfectly, right?

I take my whiskey neat

“Here you are Lt.” You slide him a drink across the table. He makes a face behind his mask that you now recognize as his scowl. “Don't make that face at me.”

“You can't even see my face,” he replies, in his signature thick accent. “And I don't need you buying me drinks.”

“Well that's too bad 'cause’ I did. Don't tell me you're gonna let good whiskey go to waste.”

His deep brown eyes stare at you for a heavy moment before picking up the drink, lifting his mask just enough to show his cut jaw and full lips.

“Usually this is where I get a thank you.” You taunt him, trying not to let your gaze linger on what you can see of his perfect but slightly messed up face.

“Don't push your luck, Sargent.”

My coffee black…

“Oh dark like your soul, ain't that right Lt.” You gesture towards his black mug of black coffee.

Simon takes a deep breath as he takes in your words, his chest rising and falling in annoyance. He shakes his head silently, apparently not wanting to pleasure you with a response.

“Seriously, how do you drink that?” You put your hand on his perfect arm to push him out of the way of the coffee pot.

“Oh let me guess you take your coffee with a pound of sugar.” He rolls his eyes at you, in more of an attitude than you appreciate.

“Incorrect. I'm sweet enough as it is.” You smile at him while you turn around to stir your drink.

“Maybe a little too sweet don't you think?”

“Only to you.” You mutter under your breath.

…And my bed at three

“Oi Lt, what are you doing up at this hour?” You take amusement at the way this giant of a man jumps slightly at your voice.

“Did you just say oi?” He asks as if he didn't just hear you say it.

“Yes I did, do we need to get your hearing checked?” You make fun of him for the hundredth time that day.

“Why?” His gruff voice cuts through the air.

“I want it on record that I don't appreciate this attitude of yours. And I said "oi” because I'm becoming more like you.”

“I don't say oi.”

“I don't believe you. You sound like you say it.” You shrug and take a seat on the couch next to you.

“What does that mean?” He sits down next to you but he seems like he doesn't want a real answer.

“Your voice.”

“What's wrong with my voice?” This time it seems like he actually wants to know what you think.

“Oh nothing. It's a nice voice but it just gives me oi vibes.” He stares at you like you're crazy.

“I have a nice voice do I?”

“Don't let it get to your head.” You lay your head.on his shoulder.

No one speaks for a while but eventually Simon sits up. “It's three in the morning, we should get to bed.”

“Yeah that's probably smart.” You give him a big smile when you stand up. “Goodnight Lt.”

You're too sweet for me

“And here you are.” You take a dramatic bow as you hand Simon his gift, acting as if you just delivered the most important thing in the world.

“What is this?” He asks with a tone of impatientence.

“A gift.”

“It's not a holiday-” You quickly cut him off.

“Or your birthday I know, but I remember you saying something about it and got it for you”

“How do you know it's not my birthday, I've never told you that.” He pauses for a split second before continuing, “Did you look at my files?”

“That's not important, open your gift.” He shakes his head but opens the bag you've given him.

Quickly, he pulls out a mask just like the one he's currently wearing. A mask you've handmade just for him.

“What is this?” He instantly demands.

“That is what we call a mask sir. I remember you told me about that one having an annoying hole so I thought I'd help you out. Originally I was just gonna patch the hole but then I figured that mask has been through a lot so you deserved a new one.”

He loudly clears his throat. “I hope you know there won't be a gift in return.”

“I don't expect one, simply doing a nice thing.”

“Well thank you Sargent.” You smile at his thanks, feeling how much he means it.

“Anytime.” Is the only word you get in before he runs off.

You're too sweet for me

“You know this is basically our third date.” You randomly blurt out. You're sitting with Simon in a coffee shop off base. You don't know what you were expecting with Simon off base but one thing you never thought about when inviting him out is his absence of the mask.

Obviously wearing it would draw more attention than usual but now you're sitting straight across from the face of the man you're practically fawning over.

“This is not a date.” He defends roughly.

“Yes it is, our first was dinner and second was the bar so that makes this the third.”

“Those weren't dates, just outings between friends.” He runs his eyes everywhere but your face.

“Aww so you admit we're friends.” You can't help but tease. “But I'm being serious Simon. You can't deny it forever.”

“Yes I can.” He fiddles with his drink as you continue your mini interrogation.

“No you can't. I know you like me, Lt. Why won't you say it.”

“You're different.” He begins.

“If you start to say I'm dumb you're getting punched.”

“No! Of course not. You're different from me and I don't know if we would work.”

“Bullshit. Spill it.”

“Fine, you're too sweet.” He spits out as if it was fire coming out.

You can't help the bubbling laugh that spills out your mouth. “Too sweet? What does that even mean?” You ask him, still laughing.

“I don't know. You're too sweet to me, you give me things and you say all the right things and I don't think I could give all that back to you.”

‘I don't want you to give me anything back. I want you to give me you, you're too sweet for me too Lt. Even if it is in a different looking way.” You slide your hand across the table to lay on his. He returns your hold and gives you a smile that is uniquely his. This is all you need.

[nikkisheep]

Help Me

Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Warnings: SMUT, reader is of age, soft sex, dirty talk, oral (f), Daryl's accent (lord have mercy), cheating (reader has a shitty bf), mentions of hitting (from reader's bf), Daryl's mouth, flirting, praising (good girl, sweet girl), I think that is all, DON"T READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE

Summary: After your shitty boyfriend stormed off when he hit you, Daryl is there to pick up the pieces. Daryl would do anything for you, so what happens when you give him a very special request? Especially after using those eyes of yours.

Another fight, another argument. Honestly, it was getting old. Your boyfriend had hit you and you screamed at him to get out. To get away from you. It was the first time he did that and you were sure that he would do it again if you said anything else.

Daryl was working on his bike when he saw the two of you arguing. He honestly didn't understand what you saw in the guy. Hell, everyone was confused on that. The guy was sleeping around with anything that moved but you.

----

You were crying when someone knocked on your door. When opening it, you met the one and only Daryl Dixon. Sheepish smile, his hair slightly in his eyes, his body moving side to side as if with nerves. He wore his shirt with three buttons open and he had cut off the sleeves so he could stay cool.

"I uh I heard what that bastard said to ya. I wanted to make sure yer alright," His deep voice drawled.

He noticed the tears and wanted to kill the man responsible.

"Thank you Daryl. I'm okay."

"Yer' sure 'cause I can sit with ya, if you want."

"Daryl, do ya wanna sit with me?" You flirted.

It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to flirt, even though you had a boyfriend. The thing between you and the archer was simple. You would flirt, create sexual tension and then go on your way. Daryl didn't know that if he asked, you would drop on your knees in a heart beat.

"Nah, I gotta get that bike out ther' fixed before the next run." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Daryl left and you were alone. You thought about the way he looked at you. He had glanced down your tank top for a quick second and you smirked at the thought of the archer checking you out. You wanted him to. You wanted him.

----

Fixing Daryl a plate, your boyfriend looked at you. He had a black eye and a busted lip. He said that he got attacked while on a hunt. He glanced at Daryl as you give the man the plate of food. He did not like the archer at all. Daryl had beat the shit out of him when he went outside, Rick had to separate the two of them. Daryl was left untouched. He watched as the two of you laughed at something and he noticed Daryl's smile. He only smiled with you. Only you.

"So Daryl, how was your hunt?" Your boyfriend spoke up, stopping Daryl's smile.

"It was fine. Killed a rabbit."

"That's all?"

"Well, I was almost gonna be walker food if I didn't get out of ther'."

"Back before all of this started, I was shooting deer left and right and all you can get is a small rabbit I-"

"That is enough," You interrupt.

"Don't cut me off, woman." He yelled at you.

"Don't talk to her like that."

You rolled your eyes at the fight and left. You were not going to deal with the shit anymore. You were blushing at Daryl sticking up for you.

"You don't get to tell me how to talk to my girlfriend,'' Your boyfriend said.

"I am not sure if she actually wants to be yer girlfriend anymore."

"You better shut it, Dixon."

"You better watch yerself when it comes to her. I will kill ya if ya even say anything to her that hurts her feelins'," Daryl said.

----

You were setting up a tent a bit from the group. About a hundred yards if anything. You were still close but was by some trees. You told Rick that you wanted some space for a bit. Daryl made himself known when he walked into the shelter of your tent.

"Nice littl' place ya got here," He said, looking at you.

"Daryl, can I ask you something?" You said with doe eyes. The way he was looking at you had your pants warming.

"What is it?"

"Help me," You mutter.

"What?"

"I need your help."

"With what, darlin'?"

You stood up and reached for your shirt. Removing it quickly, you heard Daryl inhale sharply. You looked down at him, his knees spread, allowing you to step in between them.

"Daryl," You sigh.

"Sweethear', I am not sur' what it is you need me to help you with."

You smile before grabbing your pants to shimmy off. He groaned at your panties.

"I need you to give me a massage. Please," You say softly.

"A massage?"

"Yeah, to help loosen me up," You smirk at his flustered face.

"I-I can give ya one."

----

His rough hands traveled the length of your body, massaging every muscle until you were moaning from it. His hair tickled your neck as he placed kisses to it. You didn't know how or when it went from a "simple" massage to this but you weren't complaining.

His hands gripped your hips as he moved you to your back.

"I gotta give ya a frontal massage.'' He said as he moved to between your legs.

By this time, you were completely naked. Daryl had asked if everything was okay with you and all you did was moan a yes. Daryl slides his fingers up your core and you bite back a moan.

It has been so long since your boyfriend had touched you, Daryl's hands was heavenly. You moaned when his tongue licked a bold stripe up your pussy.

"Darlin, yer gonna need to be quiet if ya wan' me to continue."

You nod as he went back to eating you out like a starved man. One of his hands placed with your breasts as the other started to circle your clit. You wanted to scream his name but didn't want anyone knowing what you were doing.

"Who's making ya feel this good, sweet girl?"

"Fuck, you. You are Daryl."

"That''s fucking right. I am. Not that bastard." You moan as he shit talked your boyfriend at the same time as fucking your pussy with his tongue.

"Oh Daryl," You moan before pulling him by his hair, making him come up to your face.

"I want you now," He groans as he quickly pulls his pants down. His shirt was torn off, on the ground with the rest of your clothes.

He moved above you, moving his hips to yours.

"Ya ready?"

"Never been more ready than I am right now," You moan as he pushed inside.

The stretch had you arching, it felt so good. He was so thick and big. Your mouth made an "O'' shape as he started to move. His arms held himself above you and caged you in. You wrapped your arms around his body to rake your nails down his back.

"Daryl," You moan into his open mouth.

"Tell me how good I'm making ya fee'."

"So good, Daryl. Fucking me so good," You threw your head back.

That's my good girl. You're mine. My good girl."

"Yours."

"He never made you feel so good," He groaned, picking up pace.

His thrusts were smooth. He knew what he was doing, his pubic bone brushed against your clit every time he fucked into you. His body moved with your own as his dick stroked against your g-spot. You raked your nails deeper into his shoulders as you neared your end. You could barely breathe as he fucked into you with sharp thrusts. His hips were moving in rhythm with yours and he could tell you were getting closer when he felt your walls grip his so hard. He was having trouble pulling out.

"You are mine, all mine."

"All yours," You moan loudly.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," Daryl ordered softly. Your body listened and you climaxed so hard that you nearly blacked out.

Daryl stilled inside you as he orgasmed inside of your cunt. He moaned your name as he did so. He smiled as he rolled off you.

"That was fun and so damn good," You both laugh.

"I mean it, Daryl. I am yours if you want me to be."

"What about that shit head?"

"He doesn't have to know just yet," You smiled.

"I want him to know," he said as he looked at the marks on your chest.

"I just want to find the time to end things," You said.

"Are ya goin' to end it?"

"Daryl, I will end it right now if you asked."

"Really?"

"Daryl, do you want me to end it with him?" You look at him.

"Even if you don't, you're still my girl."

"Daryl, answer the question."

"I want you to end it 'cause I-I love ya and I wand yer to myself."

He looked away.

"You love me?"

"Yeah, I do. Have for a while."

"I am ending it tonight, Daryl. I love you and I'm going to end it now."

"End it in the morning." He said as he cuddled you closer to his chest and the two of you went to sleep.

"I love ya, darlin'."

"I love you too, Daryl."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve sniffled as he cleaned off Eddie's gravestone once again. The town had been saved, the crack closed, and somehow Vecna had been defeated. No one really knew what happened. Only that a mysterious figure with wings had saved their asses. El was still trying to find them, but they were hiding themselves pretty well. Hopper believed he slunk back into the Upside Down before it closed, but no one else believed that, especially Dustin. He didn't say it outloud, but he knew the kid believed that it had somehow been Eddie. Steve didn't want to discourage him or get his hopes up. He didn't know what to do.

All he could do now was to keep cleaning Eddie's headstone. Edward Munson: Now At Peace. Yeah, right. People keep spray painting "burn in hell" across the headstone. He didn't deserve this. . . Even in death, they were still fucking with him. Steve let out a strangled yell and threw the rag.

"It's not fucking fair!" Steve snapped.

Steve breathed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stared at the headstone and did some breathing exercises to help calm him down. Now would be the perfect time to tell him everything, at least, Robin said it would help.

"I never got to really know you, man," Steve said. "And I really wish that I did, though. I wish I could see you play that guitar even at the Hideout. . .to see you up on that stage. I kind of wanted to see you graduate, too. I would have loved to see you give Higgins the finger. I always hated that guy. Fucking asshole. I would have loved to see you DM up on your throne. I'm not sure I would be able to play, I honestly would have gotten distracted. I wish I knew more than that, though. Like, what's your favorite song? Your favorite movie? Your favorite color, man? I don't know. . .anything. I wish you were here to tell me. I just wish. . ."

He stood there for a moment as though he were expecting an answer. Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He went to reach for the rag, but someone beat him to it. A man with a hat over his head and sunglasses on his face was kneeling in front of Eddie's grave. Steve had no clue who it was.

"Let me help, son," the man said in a deep southern accent.

Steve had been spending enough time with Wayne and Dustin to realize that this man sounded an awful lot like Wayne with his accent. He knew it wasn't Wayne, though, because this man was too young and he knew that Wayne was working.

"You didn't do this, did you?" Steve asked.

"I just want to help, boy," the man said. "A handsome man like Eddie Munson doesn't deserve this. Although, I guess you could say he is hot as hell."

"That's a weird thing to say about a dead guy," Steve said, scrunching up his nose. "Did you know him?"

"You could say that. You could also say that I knew him a little too well," he said. "I kind of overheard your speech there, son. I can answer some of those questions for you, ya know?"

"I - would like that," Steve said softly as he grabbed the extra rag and knelt down to clean up the headstone.

"Well, most people would think differently about his favorite song. He loved the song Rolling Stone by Muddy Waters. His mama would teach him how to dance to that song. Sometimes, she would place him on her feet. He loves red, but he also loves the color blue," the man said. "He loves Conan the Barbarian. He used to sneak into the theater with his best friend, Ronnie."

"Ronnie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, she was the first friend he ever made, and she was never more than his best friend despite him making an embarrassing move on her," he chuckled.

"That sounds familiar," Steve laughed. "He told you all this?"

"In a way," he said. "Ronnie showed him the way into leading lost sheep. His uncle gave him the kick in the ass he needed into not giving a fuck what other people thought of him. He still had some learning to do. He was kind of queer in the head, though, despite all of that."

"What? Who cares what he was into?" Steve scoffed. "Are you seriously judging him on that? I'm queer in the head myself."

"Wait, hold on, son. I ain't judging him for that, and you do know that queer also means weird, right?" The man asked.

"Yeah. . .I mean, I forgot," Steve stuttered.

"Should I just forget that you came out to a complete stranger, son? Doesn't matter, I didn't have a problem with Eddie being like that," he said, and then he dropped the accent. "I can't believe you did that!"

He dropped the hat and the sunglasses, slapping his knees as he stood up. Steve gaped up at him. His hair was cut short, but he would recognize those dimples anywhere. He was grinning wildly down at Steve.

"Eddie?!" Steve choked and he stood up.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said.

It was the first time he had called him that, and it made his stomach flutter. His brain tried so hard to comprehend that it was Eddie, but he looked so drastically different without his hair that he couldn't really focus. He noticed that he was also wearing a hoodie and a polo that looked awfully familiar.

"Hey, that's my polo," Steve said.

"Yeah, I broke into your house," Eddie said. "I wanted to look the least like myself."

"Why?" Steve asked.

"So, that people won't try to murder me, Steven," Eddie said.

"No, I mean, I get that. Why the deception?" He asked.

"Hi, I'm Eddie Munson. I like to be dramatic," he said, and he held out his hand. "Go ahead, take it."

Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie's like he was shaking his hand. His skin was cool to the touch, and Steve couldn't help but stare at it.

"You're real," he whispered.

"Very," he grinned.

"Why is your hand so cold?" Steve asked.

"I'm vampire now so. . . ," Eddie said, shaking his head from side to side.

"You were the mysterious figure that destroyed Vecna," Steve said in realization.

"He tried to make me his little bitch. Wanted me to do all his dirty work and kill of you," Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No thanks. I can't even clean my room when my uncle asks, and I love the man. Do you think I'm going to kill people I care about for someone I hate? Yeah, no."

"You saved us. You saved this town despite the fact that they hate you for no goddamn reason," Steve said.

"Well, my dad conned half the town, so yeah," Eddie shrugged, and then his eyes lit up. "Oh, I saved Higgins! You should have seen the egg on his face. He does know I'm alive, but he probably feels guilty about blackmailing me into dropping out in '84 now."

"He did what?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, crazy story. I should tell you all about it over dinner," Eddie said.

"That was smooth," Steve smirked.

Eddie ran his hand over the vest Steve was wearing and smirked.

"My vest looks good on top of a polo," Eddie said and paused, looking at him softly. "I'm not going to waste my chance this time. Hey, Steve?"

Suddenly, Steve was brought back to the Upside Down, and Eddie had looked at him with meaningful eyes before they parted ways. The memory was soon gone.

"Yeah?"

Eddie grabbed him by the vest and pulled him in, crashing their lips together. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer as he deepened the kiss as Steve gripped his hips. Eddie broke the kiss, allowing Steve to breathe.

"We're kissing over your grave," Steve said.

"Better than walking over it," Eddie cackled.

Steve suddenly began pushing him backward until Eddie's back hit the tree that was next to his grave. He pressed his body up against Eddie's and covered his mouth with his own. He really should care that he was making out in a cemetery, but all he was aware of was Eddie. Eddie's mouth against his, Eddie's tongue making its way back in, and Eddie's hands quickly pulling his polo out of his pants so his hands could press themselves against his skin. All that mattered was how alive Eddie was and how much Steve could feel it. It was like all the lights were turning on inside of him, and it was Eddie that was flipping them on. Steve quickly broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against his, breathing heavily.

"We better stop before we do something else in cemetery that we're not supposed to," Steve said.

"Probably a good idea," Eddie said. "I think we just gave a granny quite a shock."

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw an older woman standing a few yards away, looking appalled.

"My God. She's literally clutching her pearls," Steve said.

"What do you think it is? That we're two men or that we're making out in a graveyard?" Eddie asked.

"Young man, my hearing is just fine! I don't care if you two have dicks! I mind that you two are fooling around in the place where the dead sleep!" She scowled.

Eddie and Steve looked at her in shock for a moment.

"I was not expecting her to say that," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Who would?" Eddie asked and glanced at the old woman. "Alright, time to adopt a grandmother."

"No, Eddie, we have to tell everyone you're alive, especially Wayne and Dustin," Steve said.

"Right. . .Dustin. Shit, I died in front of him. I know this is a stupid question, but how is he?" Eddie winced.

"Devestated but also hopeful that the mysterious figure who saved us all was you," Steve said and took Eddie's hand. "Let's get you home."

They laced their fingers together and walked out of the cemetery, apologizing to the granny as they left. They didn't care if anyone saw them, but after the town nearly went apocalyptic, how could anything else matter? The only thing that mattered was that they were both very much alive.