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leftneb · 25 days ago

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There is Something Seriously Wrong with this Logo..... Chapter Two

So. Lots of you have seen this post by my dear partner ( @lailau7904 ) in which the Williams F1 design team get absolutely torn to bits. In the case you haven't read it yet I highly recommend you do because a) it's really fucking funny and b) it makes what I'm about to tell you even funnier. Though you don't have to, this post touches on entirely different things still regarding this one goddamn logo.

The original post starts like this:

Innocent enough, we made an assumption in good faith that the logo displayed on the Wikipedia page would be the same one as the official version used by Williams. Buckle the fuck up because I'm about to tell you why that was the worst mistake we could have made.

Please. Please I beg of you keep reading this took YEARS off our lifespans. Like the original post was fun and all but it was merely the top of the iceberg. If this were an hbomberguy video this would be the part where he reveals that the background was a greenscreen the whole time. More below the cut!!! :333

The Truth

Already after only a few hours after hitting "post" on the dissection, people started pointing out to us that we'd missed an absolutely crucial detail on the Wikimedia page we got the logo from, pay careful attention:

See THIS?

Yeah this means that that image is not, and never was, the official logo of Williams. All along it had been the work of a Wikipedia user by the name of Juanchocarbonero. Here you can even see the (admittedly painful) history of the file as provided by Wikimedia, this image was uploaded all the way back in 2016, it even underwent an update when the team changed their colour scheme to a lighter blue without getting fucking fixed.

But to me the absolutely most painful part about this page is the "File Usage" section. Which gives you a quick preview of just how deep the goddamn disease that is this piece of graphic design sin really spreads.

And just to clarify: the official version of the logo used by Williams on merch etc is perfectly fine. It's a nice piece of graphic design. I still quite like it. But the story doesn't end there. Not even close.

Consequences

When you look up "williams logo" on Google the image provided by Wikimedia the very first result that pops up, if you're looking for a high-quality .png of this logo that, logically, is what you'll end up using. And I mean, why wouldn't you? What reason do you have not to use it? As long as you don't look to close (oops) it's a perfectly fine, high-definition, clean and transparent image of the logo! No shit people are going to use it!

But this raises a question: Why IS it the most widespread version of the logo? That's fucking weird isn't it? Surely if the actual logo used on ex.: the official Williams F1 website (which, again, is perfectly fucking fine) was available they would've just used that, right?

Now. Small problem. If you want you can go ahead and open whatever search engine you use, if you do that I'm gonna need you to type in "Williams logo" into the search bar, and just try finding a picture that is

of the actual official logo (you can tell the bootleg from the real thing by checking if the middle segment of the W has spiky ends or flat ones. We're looking for flat ones here)

high quality (no pixels or blurring visible to the naked eye)

a transparent png (none of that chequered background bullshit)

NOT a logo with any words (such as: Williams or Racing) visible in it. those don't count.

If you didn't feel like doing any of that, I'll just tell you the answer: you fucking can't. Nothing like that EXISTS. The closest I could get are these two, both of which are mid to ass quality, so they don't count either.

No sensible individual is going to scroll google search results for 5 minutes straight just so they can use a 200x200 image, especially when they think a perfect alternative is right there.

I even found several recoloured versions of the diseased logo, including one as a sticker on Redbubble! Fuck me that's a horrible sight!

The Search

Because I wrote the previous paragrahps after we'd figured out exactly what had happened, you might be under the impression that by this point in trying to answer the question "Why the fuck is that image on Wikipedia instead of, idk, the real fucking thing?" we'd at least established the existence of said "real Williams F1 logo". You'd be wrong, because for somewhere around 24 hours after we'd made the initial, horrifying discovery of just how fucked the Wikipedia version is, we genuinely could not tell if that was the official logo or not.

The ones displayed on their website weren't at all downloadable or even copyable, a non-ass quality of the damn thing just didn't seem to exist anywhere, so we didn't dare draw any conclusions. And we were still foolishly operating on the assumption that Wikipedia wouldn't just lie to us. (this is why your teachers hate it when you use it a source btw. like this is the ONE time it's actually been reasonable)

So, in the hopes of finding the offical Williams Racing logo, the non-scuffed one because clearly it exists, somewhere, we consulted an expert on Intellectual Property: my mother!

What this "consultation" actually roughly looked like was: we went on a walk and I started rambling about the Situation from Last Night before she cut me off and pulled up the website of the World Intellectual Property Organisation, aka the place they store all the Copyright information of like, everything.

BEHOLD:

(pictured; THE ACTUAL FUCKING LOGO I CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S EXISTED THIS WHOLE TIME)

Link to the actual real official legal document because goddamn this rabbithole just kept getting deeper so I like, have that now.

For refence, here is the official copyrighted version and the Wikimedia file overlayed on top of each other. As you can tell, it's disgusting. It's a poor, eyeballed imitation at best.

The copyrighted logo is horrifically low quality because, guess what, that image also isn't downloadable or copyable from the page. I really really cannot blame Juanchocarbonero for uploading his own version to Wikimedia because there legitimately does not exist a version of this logo that is freely available to the public. Like that goddamn abomiation is all we have. It's the effort that counts I guess.

My mother suggested that a possible reason for this could be avoiding the production of knockoff merch, or at least making it recognisable in case it is sold. Think about it, when your logo Doesn't Exist online, no one can use it without a license! It's kind of genius! I'm also about 99% sure they didn't orchestrate it so, it was good luck I guess?

interlude: How the FUCK does Copyright even work

I did immediately think to myself "we should REALLY fix the wikipedia version, like, stat" because I cannot in good conscience have this information available to me and not do anything with it, for the good of the people. However, this poses an issue: was the logo really not scuffed on purpose? Could it be that that version uploaded to Wikipedia isn't a 1:1 of the official logo because of copyrighting issues? To find out I had to look deeper, by comparing the official, website-available logos of various other F1 teams I came to conclusion that: [........................]

Yeah so I wrote that paragraph before actually checking for refences, but even after probably an hour of trying very hard to make sense of the copyright documents and copyright law in general we could not make sense of any of it. According to my mother (again, the closest we have to an expert, like she actually works with copyright in the context of companies but she's not specifically an IP expert. just to clarify) it's actually a lot worse for Wikipedia to have a falsified version of the Williams logo, than it would be to use the copyrighted version. This is because they're spreading misinformation by pretending that's the actual logo. And yet.

According to the Copyright Tag (the one on the top) in the Licensing section of the Wikimedia page for the thing pretending to be the Williams F1 logo, it's fine to use it because just a bunch of shapes. The thing is however, that it says that for pretty much every F1 team's logo, most of which are sourced straight from the official website. So this doesn't really mean anything tbh. According to our local expert (still my mother) it's fucking confusing. So I've decided to leave that at that.

update October 20th: as far as the Wikimedia pages on copyrighting tell me, uploading the official logo could, potentially, get me into serious legal trouble with Williams because of copyright laws. Which is still confusing because as said, every other team's logo is sitting uncontested on their respective Wikipedia pages. So basically we still don't know.

Okay. Backtrack. We forgot to ask something very important:

HOW?

HOW does one fuck up a perfectly fine logo THAT BAD.

WHY does one make their own scuffed tracejob and HOW does it end up like THAT. Clearly something must have gone horrifically wrong for it to end up like that.

I have a theory as to what might have happened:

It was either drawn or painted by hand, for a physical paintjob it's actually sort of impressively precise, but still objectively fucked. For a while I outright refused to believe that it could have been done in a digital program with the types of mistakes that were made, but you'll see this theory (partially) disproven later on so I retract it for now.

Operating on the assumption that it wasn't done digitally, a likely theory could be one involving a picture of scan of the paintjob. If the picture was taken at an angle or the logo itself was on a curved surface that COULD potentially explain the weird sort of slide everything has to it.

From then the picture might have been inserted into a digital art program, and the area of the logo might have been automatically selected using the magic wand tool, which could explain the weird growth at the top and that odd rounded off corner.

We also drew the conclusion that the file itself had been "tampered with" (aka cropped manually) by a human, because no computer would generate a resolution of 3356x2543 (you can that this is the original resolution on the Wikimedia page)

WAIT HOLD ON IS THAT IT?

The question of how the Fuck this guy managed to mess up the logo, and even more specifically why some edges were fine and some weren't (ant colony looking thing on the top left) bothered us so much that I at one point started just looking up "WIlliams logo" with the results filtered down to pre-2017 in an attempt to find when exactly the messed up logo was created. As if that would be any help.

Now what I definitely didn't expect to find was THIS

ENHANCE

Yes, you're seeing it right, THAT is the original 'Williams logo with the fucked up arm angles and lenghts'. Which PROVES that, contrary to our previous belief, Juancocarbonero was NOT the origin of the mistakes. Instead it was [checks notes] a DeviantArt user by the name of Nerdkid56?

The original DeviantArt post, which as of 9:47pm CET on the 13th of October 2024 I am about 90% sure is the actual first appearanace of the scuffed logo, is from May of 2015, which lines up well with the original upload date of the fucked up logo onto Wikipedia (November 2016). At the time that DeviantArt post was almost the only source for the logo.

And in the case you needed any convincing that those two logos are the same, here they are overlayed. You may notice that it's one shape (excluding the rounded corner which isn't visible at this resolution.)

This discovery is essential to understanding why the current scuffed version is the way it is. You might remember our confusion about the way some edges are fine while some are attempting to leave the image, the whole thing is a weird Frankensteinian amalgamation of vectors and magic wand mistakes. With this knowledge we can now assume that the mistakes happened in 2 layers:

Nerdkid56: likely just eyeballed the proportions. I'd guess he drew one arm before the other and flipped it around without really checking the angles. Also didn't give a shit about whether the arms lined up with the base or not. Legitimately bad design made in a digital program.

Juancocarbonero: why he used the scuffed W logo instead of the normal ones that were also perfectly accessible by 1 goddamn Google search is a mistery. HOW he even got access to it is another question I do not think we'll have answers to. And I've already explained some of the things we think may be responsible for the uneveness and bumps. Point is he fucked it up even more.

My theory for why Juanchocarbonero used the scuffed version instead of any other available picture goes like this: it was the only png he could find. Practically every other search result for "Williams Logo" that predates 2017 is a jpeg or absolute ass quality (sometimes both for good measure) so, despite it's flaws, Nedkid56's trace of it could have been the best option available at the time (the quality is actually very very good since it's a vector image, and I guess our friend Juanchocarbonero doesn't have an eye for design considering he didn't notice uhm, everything that is wrong with that model.)

Conclusion

The only way to right these wrongs is to go back, to the very beggining of this saga. Wikipedia. Williams I'm so sorry for what you've had to endure. I know what I have to do now. When I eventually make a proper vector image of the official logo and upload it to Wikimedia it'll all be over. And I WILL do it (but not rn this has already robbed me of like 3 whole days of my life. soon)

All of this is, admittedly inconsequental, but also absolutely fucking hilarious. Like imagine. you. one single guy, you make ONE mistake in a silly little "tracing this logo" project because you couldn't be arsed to check the angles of a silly little W. And some other guy, who you likely don't even know, over a whole ass year later, takes your flawed piece of design, makes it even worse somehow and uploads it to a site from which your little tiny innocent mistake becomes the most widespread version of a logo used by an actual real company worth over 700 Million US Dollars. HOW. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN. WHY HAS NO ONE FIXED THIS??? IT'S BEEN 9 YEARS

Just to give you a final look on just how widespread this plague is, here are some examples of media the fucked up version of the logo is featured in:

this Mr V's Garage video (the original reason we started this conversation in the first place)

the thumbnails of these two videos by Tommo, this one by FP1Will, and this one by RicksF1Addiction

such an amount of random places. likely fanmerch and fanart, and like, pretty much any place someone wanted to use the logo. it's everywhere. if you've ever had the Williams logo displayed in anything you've made I can guarantee you 99.9% chance you used the fucked version

and late thank you to everyone ( @bumblewyn @mid-nighttiger @vro0m @lemonsgovroom @mikraas @leclerced fucking hell I kept needing to add people to this list because compiling all of this took absurdly long) who pointed out our misconception in the reblogs of the original post and contributed to us actually looking into this further. and sorry to everyone for accidentally spreading misinformation lmao (it's too funny not to have been worth it tho) (ALSO it's not really our fault is it)

and to keep the tradition of ending on a live discord reaction:

#please please consider reblogging this if you read through considering the original post (as funny as it was) was just spreading misinfo #williams slander themselves enough already they don't need us to do that #f1 #formula 1 #williams #williams racing #williams f1 #james vowles #williams formula 1 #f1 analysis #technical #lai core #nebrain #neb50 #neb100 #neb200

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mrs-monaghan · 26 days ago

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Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #insecure Jikookers #wishy washys #jimin #jungkook #are you sure jikook #jikook are you sure #standing next to you #jikook travel show #bts

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m-musings · 7 months ago

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Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #fallout the series #fallout imagines #fanfic

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pierregazly · 1 year ago

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1+ 2 = ...4? ꨄ pierre gasly smau

pierre gasly x wife!russell!reader

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of twins, george having a meltdown

in which pierre put his tripod to use and caused two major outcomes, george has a meltdown, and all the fans just want to know what's going on?

ynrussell

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tagged pierregasly

ynrussell joyeux anniversaire mon amour. three years ago today i married the love of my life and became the official mrs. gasly, so excited to give you your present tonight 🫶🏻

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username omg babes post the present!!! let us all be jealous

username happy anniversary mom and dad

charles_leclerc 🥳💗

username feel like it was just yesterday that i was jealous out of my mind about their wedding... still jealous tho

pierregasly joyeux anniversaire ma chère, i am the luckiest man in the world

pierregasly can't wait to give your your own present tonight

pierregasly it rhymes with tierod

username TRIPOD PIERRE

username im SCREAMING send this man right to PRISON

georgerussell63 god every time i see anything to do with you two i have to bleach my bloody eyes. happy anniversary you two, im disgusted.

username poor george, him and carmen are so tame compared to these two... i love the polar opposite sibling trope

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pierregasly i hope the pizza was good ma chérie, and hope it satisfied the little bean's cravings

ynrussell it was delicious... but we kind of want chocolate now too :(

pierregasly ill check ubereats and see what i can do

ynrussell mine and the bean's saviour 🫶🏻

pierregasly

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pierregasly unfortunately not the finish we would have liked, the 15 second penalty cost us significantly and i apologize to my team and all our fans for it. will come back bigger and better next time 💪 now time to go and spend some well deserved time off with my family

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username thank you for pushing through and giving us an awesome race to watch pierre!

username loved your helmet this weekend pierre!

username sad that mother ynrussell wasn't here this weekend, but happy to see her in the likes

username 'well deserved time off with my family' do we think that's alluding to something else????

username girl he's obviously talking about his wife and his family??? like what

username ummm sorry he almost always says 'my loved ones' gotta push the pregnancy rumour agenda some more

ynrussell we're all so proud of you pear 🫶🏻 the track limits and penalties are bullshit and i'll be sending a strongly worded letter to whoever costs you anything good

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pierregasly 😂😭🤍

username who is 'we're all' who is the plural that she's referring to omg

username i'm telling y'all... mother is becoming a real mother idc what any of y'all say

pierregasly has posted a story

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ynrussell omf make sure you get extra cheesecake... and extra elcairs, and a few brownies... maybe get a few of everything??? the bean's want them!!!!

pierregasly well if the bean's want them....

username this SCREAMS my wife is pregnant and sent me on a late night snack run omf

username tell us your secret!!!!

ynrussell

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ynrussell sorry just have to appreciate how incredibly sexy it is seeing my super sexy amazing husband with kids!!! like how lucky am i!!! can't wait til' you're holding our future babies (my ovaries are exploding, i am crying, it's going to be a long day)

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username girl this seems a little feral idk

georgerussell63 this is certifiably disgusting. please grow up.

username you know who would post something like this??? a wife expecting a baby who is getting more excited about that baby seeing her husband with kids

username seems legit idk

pierregasly is this your nice way of asking me to pickup more eclairs on the way home?

ynrussell cinnamon buns too?? please?? je t'aime

pierregasly can't wait to hold our future bean's too ma chérie

username pierre as a dad is going to be so sexy, ynrussell is so right??? those babies are going to be beautiful omf

ynrussell and pierregasly

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pierregasly october 2024 / gasly thing 1 and gasly thing 2 🐣🚼

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ynrussell omg i'm pregnant???? SURPRISE

ynrussell maman is begging for them to come sooner, her poor back.

username AH I KNEW IT. I CALLED IT. MY HEART.

username THING 1 AND THING 2 AHHHHH

username pierre is gonna be a girl dad AND a boy dad?????? we're so blessed

georgerussell63 excuse me????

georgerussell63 you knocked my sister up????

georgerussell63 i told you to stay away from her??? this is outrageous i am disgusted

pierregasly sorry, tripod's work well.

ynrussell pierre delete this comment rn, i swear to god.

georgerussell63 (i am so excited to meet my baby niece and baby nephew. uncle georgie loves you both so much)

lewishamilton congratulations! roscoe is so excited 🤍

charles_leclerc uncle cha reporting for duty 🫡 congratulations, you two.

georgerussell63 i'd like to emphasize i'm still having a meltdown from when you casually gave me a bottle of gin to announce this. gasly genes should not be casually mixed like this.

username i dont think anyone understands the joy im feeling??? im honoured to be alive to see this

username they're gonna be such amazing parents im literally ????? so excited??????

carmenmmundt has posted a story

liked by ynrussell, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

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ynrussell thank you for the beautiful baby shower, auntie carmen already has spot number 1 🫶🏻

username omg omg omg omg

username this is SO CUTE

ynrussell has posted a story

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt, georgerussell63, and others

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username girl u look like ur about to pop (lovingly)

pierregasly my beautiful wife

ynrussell i don't feel very beautiful right now. i feel huge and tired and exhausted.

pierregasly still the most beautiful woman in the world

ynrussell

liked by pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux, georgerussell63, and 56,439 others

ynrussell things are getting very, very real (not real enough for my back to not hurt, thing 1 and 2 you both are killing me)

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username this aesthetic is so CUTE (that room is fucking beautiful i want a house tour????)

username they're literally due in like less than 2 months???? pierre is gonna be a dad that soon???? praying for u ynrussell

charles_leclerc im personally demanding compensation for the bruises i have from putting the nursery together

ynrussell shut up cha, you literally offered and begged to be involved

pierregasly yeah shut up cha

alexandrasaintmleux can't wait to see my art piece up in the bébé's room 🫶🏻

ynrussell knew i could always count on you angel

username im so invested in this pregnancy none of you even understand

username starting a poll asap on the babies names omf

ynrussell and pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, roscoelovescoco, and 675,487 others

ynrussell 2024.10.16 / welcome to the world my precious théodore and éloïse. maman and papa love you so much.

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username omg congratulations!!! such beautiful names.

username they share a birthday with charles im crying

lewishamilton congratulations! so beautiful, you are a rockstar ynrussell

charles_leclerc truly the best birthday present i could've asked for. ellie and théo should be so proud of their maman.

pierregasly the happiest day of my life, given to me by the most important woman in my life. thank you for blessing me.

username again i am so invested in this. i am so happy for these two, they're going to be incredible parents.

alpinef1team welcome to the family baby éloïse and baby théodore!

mercedesamg welcome to the family x2

username oh girl the racing teams are gonna FIGHT over these two just you wait

and there she is! after weeks of gasly!twin asks, i finally decided it was time to bring them to life in the realest way i could. i hope you all loved this as much as i loved writing it. thank you to everyone for all the incredible inspiration, and for continuing my obsession.

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @princessria127 @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh @fangirl125reader @imagandom @motorsp0rt @jspitwall @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10 @carlandonorri-s @smoothopz @eugene-emt-roe @epitios @myloverjk-blog @glow-ish @goldenmclaren @mercunty @success78 @nicolereinara

if you're missing from the taglist, pls dont hesitate to send me a message!!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #f1 x reader #pierre gasly smau #f1 smau #f1 #f1 x you #pierre gasly x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smau #smau #my writing #f1 imagine #pierre gasly imagine

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daydreamerwonderkid · 1 year ago

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Me, after doing 15 minutes of excessive googling on every Batfam member's birthday only to then realize I've accidentally missed the majority of them this year, and then also finding out that people are still aggressively debating over whether Bruce's birthday is April 7 or February 19, Dick's birthday happens 3-6x throughout the year, and Stephanie might have just popped into existence for all that DC cares:

Batfam birthday dates btw for anyone who needs them are listed beneath the cut:

DISCLAIMER: DC is notorious for being super inconsistent with everything and I am a mere tadpole caught in the tidal wave of DC's ocean. This post will be regularly updated with edits and corrections so please do not use it as word of law, I am begging you.

Update (8/24/23): To keep things more simple and easier for everyone I am going to start categorizing the birth dates I've collected into 3 categories.

-Most popular: Self-explanatory. These are the birth dates that have been canonized and confirmed by DC and are also more wildly celebrated by the fandom. Typically, this should be the first result you see when you google the character's birthday. But not always because DC sucks ass.

-Other date(s): These are the additional birth dates I come across that have been canonized in some form with multiple sources, but are not as wildly celebrated or popularized by DC and/or the fandom. Why am I including them here? Mostly because I don't want people coming in saying I forgot a date. But also because if I have to see this mess, then y'all have too as well.

-Potential but unconfirmed date(s): This is where I will put all the other additional dates I find, but specifically those that are lacking in complete sources or seem to be highly debated and scrutinized.

Also fun emoji ranking guide for me and me alone:

👑👑: Queen Shit. Characters with a consistent and simple birth date(s). Can absolutely do no wrong.

👑😮‍💨: In the Running. Characters who don't have a set birth date, but the mess is minor and completely DC's fault. They shouldn't have to be punished for DC's crimes.

🤡🤡: Gtfo. Shit is so inconsistent and stupidly messy that it's making me lose my shit. I'm putting DC and the characters on trial for this bullshit.

👑Alfred Pennyworth👑

Most popular: August 18

Other date(s): June 27 or August 10

Potential but unconfirmed date(s): September 19 (fml)

(Yes, I'm including Terry, fuck you lol

Also SERIOUSLY WTF is up with so many of these August birthdays!!!! Fuck, was everyone just getting crazy BUSY in November!!!! What's going on in the DC universe that is making November of all months the HORNY MONTH????!!!!)

(Mini update ((8/18/23)): Well, I just found out that apparently June 27th 2023 is also a highly debated birth date for Terry. As is August 10 2023/2024 and August 18 2023/2024. I even saw a mention of September 19 2023, but I don't know how credible that source actually is. I'm just putting it here because I'm losing my mind and I don't want someone to pop in and say I forgot it omfg I'm dying

I'm just ... why? Why is it so hard to just commit to one month and one date. I'm not even concerned about the exact year. Just commit to ONE, man.

Excuse me while I march over to DC HQ and burn the whole place to the ground iswtfg)

Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong on any of these. I have a massive headache now and am open to any suggestions or clarifications y'all have to offer.

Also, I'm going to fist fight Dick in a Denny's parking lot.

Update (8/17/23): So a mini post that I meant to use as a way to vent how insane Dick was making me somehow blew up way more than I ever expected it to, and now I feel obligated to clarify again that I am open to any corrections and additional info that anyone has to offer.

I'm saying this because I've noticed people reblogging this post for actual Batfam bday references and someone already pointed out I fucked up Tim's bday and now I feel bad for everyone who reblogged this post prior to that edit.

It's probably just the anxiety talking, but yeah I just wanted to put that out there.

Also justice for Stephanie Brown! She deserves to have her own special day and if I have to bully DC into giving her a canon birthday, then you bet your ass I fucking will.

(And to all of y'all who are encouraging Dick to keep running his side scam business, I just have this to say: There's an empty Denny's parking lot somewhere out there just waiting for you, too lol)

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newrochellechallenger2019 · 12 days ago

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Kinktober Week 2

Sex Toys/Creampie/Praise + Degradation/Oral Sex

divorced!art donaldson who buys you the rose toy

in the final years of his marriage to Tashi, the two of them had barely fucked, and when they had it had been so vanilla, it hardly counted.

he felt like it had been so long, he wouldn't even know what to do when he started seeing you. you, the young tennis protege he'd taken under his wing, for 'coaching' of course, and if his cock ended up buried in your tight pussy after a particularly good practice so what?

it didn't take the two of you long to cut the bullshit and start dating officially, and now you'd practically moved into his mega-mansion.

art steps through the front door, slipping a parcel in his pocket and he spots you in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, drinking a glass of water.

he walks over to you, a playful frown on his face as he slots himself between your legs in greeting, 'what have i told you about sitting on my counters?' he scolds, his eyes twinkling with mirth so you know he's not truly mad.

you offer him a mischievous grin in response, 'didn't know you were home' as you sip your water, 'well i am now' he retorts, taking the water glass from your hand and putting it down on the counter beside you.

he presses his lips to yours in a loving kiss and after a beat of surprise you kiss him back.

he puts his hands under your ass and lifts you up into his arms, kissing you hungrily, he does a stupid little spin as you wrap your legs around his waist, showing off his tennis physique as he carries you into the bedroom.

you giggle as he drops you onto the bed, clambering on top of you immediately and kissing at your neck as you squeal, 'what's all this for?'

'can't i say hello to my favourite girl? i missed you' he grins against your collarbone, biting down on it to curb your protests before sitting up 'and i got you a present', he pulls out the parcel from his trouser pocket and holds it out to you.

you tilt your head to the side 'are you sure i'm not missing anything...?' you say as you open the parcel 'baby...' he whines, 'come on let me spoil you'.

your brow furrows as you open the parcel and you stifle a laugh as you look at the rose toy inside. art's watching you intently, waiting for your reaction and as you meet his eyes, he starts to ramble 'i just- i haven't bought a sex toy in so long, certainly not like this so i googled and everyone on social media says it's incredible- and-' you cut him off with a kiss, too kindhearted to tell him it was mostly a joke. 'thank you baby, it's perfect' and he smiles, reassured.

'look i was thinking...that we could...' he begins tentatively 'do you want me to show you how it works?' you answer for him, enjoying the way this was going immensely.

he swallows, hard before nodding. you smile and slide your shorts off, tossing them off the bed and leaving you in his stanford shirt and your underwear.

his gaze trailed over your body lustfully as you opened the packaging and pulled the toy out.

you looked up at him expectantly 'little help?' you purr sultry and he scrambles over to you, thick fingers pulling your panties off your legs and chucking them aside, his eyes drawn to your cunt, and the perfect little bud just beginning to peek out.

you grin as you lower the toy to your clit, allowing it to latch as you turn it on.

you immediately squeal as the vibrations begin and art's eyes widen with desire, watching as your face contorts with pleasure.

'holy shit' you pant, pressing the toy closer to your pussy, the vibrations causing your body to shake.

'yeah like that baby' he praises breathlessly, hands undoing his trousers but eyes still on you.

'weren't...kidding...' you moan, turning the vibrations up deftly and your back arching.

'no?' he grins, tugging his boxers off, cock half-hard. 'tell me how it- fuck- feels love' and he begins to palm at his cock, watching your pussy as though it's heaven sent.

'can't' i mewl, face flushed in pleasure, feeling the toy latch on further.

he continues to masturabate, his face at eyeline with your pulsating, glistening cunt. 'aw, ngh- you can't take it baby?' he teases and you moan.

he grins deliciously as an idea comes to him and his pace increases until he's cumming ropes with a groan, hand now coated in his white cum 'ngh- let me- help you- darling' and two of his wet fingers slide themselves into your open pussy with little resistance and you whine, high-pitched 'no- wait'

'you can sweetheart, i know you can' he breathes, mesmerised and you whimper as his other hand moves yours off the toy and he holds it, feeling the power of it in his palm.

you can feel his thick fingers against your walls and you clench instinctively. 'good girl' he praises 'told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?'

you nod desperately, hips bucking as his fingers twist inside you, combined with the suction on your clit. 'mmf-too...ah!...much'

'it's okay, i got you' he soothes, his fingers scissoring inside you and he deftly turns the vibrations up on the toy and your thighs start to shake, a sign you were close.

you come with a shudder, moaning his name and gripping the sheets and he watches intently as the waves of orgasm crash over you, murmuring praise, 'that's it, good girl' repeatedly as you soak his fingers in clear liquid.

he turns the toy off and pulls his fingers out, licking them clean, your juices and his combined and you just stare at him, eyes glazed over with pleasure.

'so...good present?' he jokes with a wry grin and you crack a smile, giggling and he scoops you back off the bed and carries you to the bathroom to clean up.

#can you tell I am a virgin?#and I've never used a sex toy in my life?#merry writes 𓋼𓍊 #lazyghoulskinktober2024 #barely proofread idc #got a bit carried away lol #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers 2024 #challengers

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yoditopascal · 8 months ago

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Home

“I made it, I'm home.”

Four times Sanemi wants you to use his first name and the one time you do.

pairings: shinazugawa sanemi x fem! reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight angst, sanemi is bad at feelings and communication, slight sanemi/giyu if you squint

a/n: first sequel is up! My Nemi is 18+ so minors DNI

The first time Sanemi crossed paths with you was the day you were introduced to him.

He’d recently become the Wind Hashira and you were requesting to become a tsugoku.

They were all gathered for a hashira meeting to discuss the next training procedures for the lower ranking slayers. As time drew on, Shinazugawa found himself mentally thankful as the meeting drew to an end.

“Before we draw this to close, I’d like to bring one last thing to attention.” Oyakata-sama paused before continuing as you stood behind him head bowed in respect as he spoke

“I’m sure you’ve heard of a demon slayer who has been performing above expectations,” Oyakata-sama said gently. “She’s an exceptional swordswoman and has been recommended by Tomioka-san.”

The training grounds remained silent as the nine hashira waited for their master to continue.

“After some thought, I have reached the conclusion ….” Oyakata-sama smiled. “I’m assigning her to one of you as a tsuguko.”

“Shinazugawa-san,” he offered Sanemi a kind smile. “Since you both trained under the same master I think she would be best in your care.”

“Not interested.”

“Maybe Tomioka-san would be interested then since he-“

That got his blood boiling.

If he didn’t want to do it, why the hell should Tomioka be the one to replace him?

“With all due respect sir,” he said, Tomioka’s head tilts in his peripheral. Sanemi’s index finger plays with the hilt of his sword. “I don’t think Tomioka can cut it.”

“Why does it matter to you Shinazugawa? You already said you weren’t interested.” Uzui raised a brow at him, a hint of teasing behind his words. Obanai nodded his head in agreement in the background.

“It's because I doubt she can handle my training.”

“I’d like to prove myself to you if you’d let me Shinazugawa-sama, '' you said, stepping forward. You were significantly shorter than him, probably around Obanai’s height.

“Cut the -sama bullshit.” He fired back, also stepping forward. He practically towered over you at this point. You were cute he had to admit albeit a little annoying.

You had to admit from your distance you thought he was attractive too. His lilac eyes and fluffy white hair were striking, his scars added a liveliness to his features that you also liked and don’t get you started on his muscles that he proudly had on display.

“Fine then if you think you can keep up with me I’ll take you.” He said snapping you from your thoughts.

“Very well, then.” Oyakata-sama said, pleased. “She will continue training from here on as Shinazugawa’s tsuguko.”

“I can’t wait to work together, I’ve heard so much about you from Giyu-san!”

Giyu?

Why the hell were you already on a first name basis with him?

“It’s Tomioka to you brat.”

“My apologies I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The remaining hashira grinned teasingly in the background, at the commotion. For someone who had claimed to hate Tomioka’s guts he sure was defensive about the first name thing.

But that wasn’t it at all.

Did he just take on an apprentice because he didn’t want Giyu to have you?

Yes, yes he did.

Did he also correct you just because he didn’t want Giyu to have the satisfaction of being on a first name basis with you?

Of course he did.

He was Sanemi Shinazugawa after all and he had a reputation to uphold.

He had no idea how you two had even met each other with your breathing styles being so different and all or why the hell you two seemed so close to begin with but if you were to train under him he had to squash that in the butt right here and now.

Sanemi was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize that the meeting had officially ended. As the hashira began filing out of the courtyard you approached him startling him from his inner monologue.

“Are we ready to begin training Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked

“What the hell did I tell you about that honorific shit?” He groaned.

“Fine then how about Shinazugawa-sensei?” You replied cheekily

Knowing that he wasn’t getting through to you he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He decided then that he doesn’t like being called Shinazugawa by you.

The second time

“Fuck off.” He rasped. You had just reached the inn you were staying at when you noticed him wincing.

“You’re hurt.” You mumbled, noticing the blood dripping onto the floor beneath him.

“‘m fine,” He shook his head, but the state of him said otherwise.

The blood around the wound had already started to congeal, sticking to his skin and clothes. He was starting to go dizzy from the blood loss.

“No, you’re not,” You frowned

“I told you I’m fine.”

“If you’re as fine as you say, then you won’t mind me taking a look.” You persisted with a grunt he submitted to you and your examination

You were looking at the cut now, nose wrinkled as you assessed the damage.

“Well the good news is you’ll live.”

“Oh joy.”

“The bad news is this’ll probably scar up pretty bad” you said standing to gather the necessary medical supplies before returning to his side. You two had foregone bring Kakushi with you this time as you weren’t that far from the butterfly mansion.

“Let me bandage it up so it doesn’t become infected.”

Wringing a rag out, you forced Sanemi to sit as you began to dab at the wound cleaning it, little sparks of pain ate away at him at each stroke of the cloth, his muscles tensing under your delicate touch.

“Sorry sensei, I’ll get this done as fast as I can.”

Again, there it was.

“I told you to drop the formalities.”

You pulled the clean bandages tight as you began to wrap his torso with a small uneasy chuckle.

“Force of habit.”

You were warm and he could smell the soothing scent of you with how close you were to him, the proximity was getting unbearable, a knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

As your fingers gently brushed against his chest with such tenderness he wasn’t used to since Kanae, Sanemi felt a jolt of electricity in his chest.

What the hell was that?

“There, that should do it.” You smiled to yourself admiring your handiwork as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get Kocho-san to take a better look at it when we return tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” He brushed you off but all you did was smile your same smile at him.

Realizing the close proximity he felt another pang in his chest as his cheeks began to dust pink.

Was he developing a heart condition? He’d have to ask Shinobu about that the next time he saw her.

Easing up from his place on the ground he stood with his back to you hiding his flustered expression.

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” You teased.

“Just shut up and get some rest.”

The third time

Sanemi pulled off your haori and tied it to your torso trying to staunch the bleeding. The feeling of the warm, sticky blood dripped down your side as you approached the Butterfly estate.

He could feel the warmth from your blood soaking through your uniform, staining his own.

Shinobu, who had been tending to the grounds outside rushed to his side at the sight of you and ushered him to bring you inside. It was hard to separate him from you, he was holding on so tightly, his grip almost like an iron vise.

A strong hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and got him to loosen his grip. He looked to see it was Rengoku who had also just come back from a mission and was having his own injuries tended to. “Kocho’s got this Shinazugawa.”

"Don't worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine."

He didn’t know that, how could he?

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know that she’s in good hands here. The same hands that treat you and all the other Hashira when we need it most.” Rengoku said, placing a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder which he shrugged off immediately. “So just try to keep a clear head Shinazugawa.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Sanemi said, storming off in the direction they took you, feeling more irritated than he was before speaking with the Flame Pillar.

It had all happened so fast.

Both you and Sanemi had been chasing after a demon who had been kidnapping and eating children. The absolute worst of the worst.

You were losing your temper and fighting brash, something he’d never seen from you before but not something he was new to entirely.

Just like Masachika.

You were so blinded by rage over the fact that the victims were children that you could barely hear him as he directed you to coordinate your attacks.

The last thing he remembers is going in for the killing strike when suddenly the demon throws a kid at him, a little girl. He stops his attack mid swing to catch her but in doing so he leaves himself wide open to the demon.

Fucking idiot! He thought as he tried to move out of range in time, before the demon could sink her claws into him he felt a hard push and the next thing he saw was red.

Blood.

It was your blood. Dripping onto the ground forming a dark red puddle around your feet.

When had you gotten there?

You had pushed him out of the way at the last second and had taken the brunt of the attack, your side torn almost clean open.

The smell of copper fills his nose completely and he almost chokes on it.

“Shinazugawa.” Shinobu started firmly sitting at a desk chair snapping him from his thoughts. She had just finished stitching you up and had sent Aoi and the others to get you situated in a bed after you had passed out. “If you need to talk…”

“I don't need to fucking talk,” he said pacing grooves into the the wooden flooring of the hall of the Butterfly estate. “She was a fool for jumping in like that.”

“I know you’re worried about her but-“

“I’m not fucking worried!”

He was but he’d never tell Shinobu that.

His anger clouded his senses, sure he was worried but he was mad more than anything.

Who gave you the right to step in and put yourself on the line like that? For him of all people.

No. To Shinobu he wasn’t worried, he was pissed.

You’re met with the sight of a starch white ceiling as you came to, head pounding you slowly, sit up looking around the room, no one was occupying the other beds. Your body ached at even the slightest movement. For a moment, you thought you were completely alone until a familiar voice greets your ears.

“You finally awake?”

Sitting on a chair next to the bed was Sanemi, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared.

"How could you be so fucking stupid, you brat?"

“It’s okay Shinazugawa-san,” you sigh, “Kocho-san was able to patch me up.”

Shinazugawa-san. As if he wasn’t already irritated enough with you.

How annoying.

“Okay, my ass,” Sanemi grumbled, “and drop the -san.”

“You’re a Hashira sensei, your life is worth at least a hundred of mine.”

“You’re an even bigger moron than I thought if you really believe that shit!” Sanemi snapped “Don’t be so ready to throw your life away!”

“I guess I’m your dumbass then.” You mumble under your breath

“What?”

“Nothing, don't mind me.” You said waving your hand in front of you as if to dissipate the tension in the air.

Silence filled the space between you two.

“I won’t let you die. Not for me.” Sanemi said somberly, refusing to look you in the eye.

“That’s the only way I’d like to go,” you sighed dreamily, only half jokingly.

“Don’t say dumbass shit like that.”

“You’ve made bigger sacrifices. Let someone else make them for you for a change.” You nodded contentedly at what you said. “You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.”

You would have thought that was the end of your conversation if Sanemi hadn’t stood with such force it knocked his chair over from your bedside.

“Don’t gimme that bullshit!”

“You think you’re so high and mighty talking about sacrifices when you really don’t know shit about sacrificing anything!”

Before you could say anything more, he stormed out slamming the infirmary shoji doors behind him.

He was right, what right did you have to tell him of all people about sacrifice when you knew about his past?

Sanemi hadn’t told you much himself but when you asked Oyakata-sama about him he had reluctantly told you about Genya and his mother.

If anyone had known anything about sacrifice it’d be him.

Slowly getting up from your bed you found yourself leaning against the wall as you limped through the halls searching for your teacher.

The wind whipped through his white hair as he sat in the garden attempting to meditate. He had initially come out here to cool his head by slashing at the training dummies but when he saw other slayers out there training themselves he opted to go to the other side of the grounds just to have some alone time.

He hadn’t meant to snap at you like he did, gods know you weren't wrong no matter how much he hated to admit it, so why did it piss him off so much to hear you talking so easily about throwing your life away for him.

You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.

You reminded him so much of Masachika it made his head ache.

The wind picks up once again carrying with it the smell of wisterias and…something else he couldn’t quite place.

It was almost like it was trying to tell him something, like he wasn’t alone.

Whipping around just as the sliding shoji doors open up, Sanemi jumped up and made it to you just in time to catch you as you slipped and fell out into the garden having lost your grip on the wall.

“Dumbass! What the hell are you doing up?!”

“I was looking for you!” You cried “I’m sorry Shinazugawa, you were right, I had no right to be so ignorant!” You tried to bow but the searing pain in your side said otherwise.

He tsked as he went to sit you down on the engawa. Setting himself beside you so you could lean on him if you needed to.

“You really aren’t that smart are ya?” He asked roughly trying to lighten the mood but the way it came out made him wince at the harshness.

Thankfully after months of training at his side you could tell when he was trying to lighten the mood, so you simply smiled and closed your eyes savoring his warmth. “No one’s ever accused me of being a genius.”

It was then that he realized you hadn’t called him sensei, or by any honorific. He was simply Shinazugawa.

Maybe he was finally getting something through that thick skull of yours.

The fourth time

When the two of you arrived at the swordsmith village you split off almost instantly Sanemi muttering to himself something about needing a drink. You were so excited at the promise of hot water on your aching muscles that you hadn’t thought to ask Sanemi if he planned to bathe too.

Which was how you two found yourselves in your predicament.

This was good. Way too good. The hot springs were perfect. From where he sat Sanemi could see the steam rising off from the clear water. The atmosphere around it is breathtaking, decorated with rocks, and lush plants. The scent of it was intoxicating.

He can already feel the relaxing effects of the mineral waters soaking into his bones as he sinks further in. Sanemi’s entire body felt overly warm, whether from the springs or the sake he drank earlier that evening he wasn’t sure.

Something like a splash echoed off in the distance and Sanemi turned toward the sound only to find you, sitting with your back to him, eyes closed as you groaned in pure bliss, the hot water easing your sore muscles.

“The hell are you doing here?!” He screamed jumping up to point at your naked form forgetting to cover himself up as he did so.

“Same as you Shinazugawa-san, taking a bath!” You smiled cheerfully “you’re naked by the way.”

You said averting your eyes from his very bare form.

He quickly sank back down into the water, cheeks turning a bright red before he rolled his eyes at you.

There it was again. If you said his last name like that one more time he swore he was going to-

But before he could finish that thought he caught a glimpse of your back, almost completely unmarred and blemish free save for the gnarly scar that twisted up your side and shoulder as you moved to grab your rag to wash yourself.

Sanemi had never seen your body so exposed before, he hadn’t meant to look, he swears he hadn’t but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

That was my fault.

“It’s not your fault.” Your voice brought him back to reality before he could get lost in his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Now you were sitting next to him, back resting against the warm boulders that surrounded the springs, arms folded, covering your amble chest from his view.

“It probably would've happened either way. I was being too reckless that night.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling any less shitty about it.”

A silent blanket fell over the two of you, the rippling of the water beneath you two the only sound that could be heard.

“Don’t get hurt again.” The request came in a tone you’d never heard from your teacher before. There was an emotion in his voice, one that you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Pity?

Nonetheless you smiled at him with a reassuring smile before answering back “I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” he began cheeks tinging pink once again as he looked away from you. “now get the fuck out.”

The one time you do

When the battle with Muzan and the remaining Upper Moons was over and the Corps had officially dissolved, you took your time to heal from your injuries, paid your respects to the fallen and moved back home.

Your childhood home looked more or less the same since you’d left, but it felt different. You couldn’t put your finger on it, maybe it had changed somehow or maybe it was just you that had changed but something felt like it was still missing.

Once you were settled in you resumed work in the family’s tea shop, your family thankful for the extra help. Soon you saved up enough to get yourself a little home on the edge of the village.

It wasn’t a spectacular abode but it reminded you of the Wind estate you stayed at when you trained under Sanemi. A place you like to think of as home.

Speaking of the devil, the arrival of Shinazugawa Sanemi to your village was a spectacle. He sent whispers and murmurs everywhere he went, the town buzzing with excited chatter and imaginative speculations but to you it fills your belly with fluttering butterflies.

You hadn't seen him for months since the final battle, a battle you hadn’t even had the luxury of sharing with him since you were with Shinobu at the time. Had he changed at all? Would you remind him too much of the past? What if he didn’t want to see you? Had you changed?

All those thoughts gripped at your head as you walked home from the store, groceries tucked tightly under each arm. It’s as you approached your home that you stopped dead in your tracks nearly dropping your bags.

There, standing in front of your door, was Sanemi himself.

He was thanking an old man, a regular of yours at the tea shop, on your front porch.

“Thanks for helping me find the place, old timer.”

“It’s no problem, oh there she is now!” The old man waved you over.

“Welcome home! I bought you a visitor!” The man cupped his hand around his mouth shouting excitedly as you approached.

“I see, it's been a long time Shinazugawa!” You smiled at them.

Sanemi looked different, he had even more scars and was missing fingers on one of his hands. Even though he appeared more battle hardened there was a surprising gentleness to his features now. As if there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you too.” He replied, surprising you with a soft smile.

“You wouldn’t expect it by looking at him, but Shinazugawa is really good with kids.” The old man, who you both realized was still there, teased. “We found him helping out some of the village kids before he asked for you.”

Face reddening, Sanemi ears tinged pink.

“Shinazugawa-san, you’re blushing! Ah I remember my first love…” the old man trailed off, his expression dreamy despite yours and Sanemi’s vehement protests in the background.

“I’ll leave you to youngsters to it then.” He waved you two off as he turned to leave, you quickly pulled Sanemi inside, cheeks equally as flushed as his own.

You invited him in and ushered him towards the back before the old man could say anything more. The two of you soon found yourselves resting on the engawa outside as you served him and yourself tea and ohagi, attempting to awkwardly catch up with one another.

You can tell he’s tired from his eyes as he spoke, and he has every right to be. The battle was hard fought not without great sacrifice even if it was months ago, Sanemi had a lot of recovering to do still.

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours admiring the beautiful scenery around you. More than once you caught Sanemi’s gaze lingering on you but he always caught himself and looked away before you could say anything.

“Forgive my intrusion.” He broke the stifling silence first.

“There’s nothing to forgive, I’m glad you came to visit.”

“I really wanted to see you, I even thought about coming to visit your estate but I figured, after everything….” You paused

Maybe you didn’t want to see me.

“You might have needed some space.” There’s a pause before you continue. “Have you been to see him yet?”

“I visit his grave as often as I can,” Sanemi says with mournful eyes that can’t quite meet yours.

“It’s all my fault… Genya….” His voice sounded watery as he trailed off. “I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it is. Maybe if I hadn't pushed him away…”

He’d still be here.

If only he had taken his place. Sanemi thought as he swallowed thickly trying but failing to hold back tears.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, we all make mistakes, it’s what makes us human.” You said placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

How was he supposed to be going about doing this?

All he wanted was to come visit you, see how you were doing, not spill his guts out to you in the courtyard. He never meant for this to happen.

“I can see the love you had for him. I know he saw it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have fought so hard to get your approval when you pushed him away. People have different ways of showing affection." You started, Sanemi remained silent, his eyes fixed on you as you spoke.

"Genya might not have chosen the path you wanted for him, but he was with you all the way until the end and that’s what matters."

"He was a dumbass," he muttered, wiping stray tears from the corners of his eyes.

"He was your brother, and he loved you to pieces. He forgave you even when you couldn’t forgive yourself. I think it’s time you started trying to forgive yourself too." You smiled warmly. “You’re not alone in this sensei. I'm right here with you.”

“Drop that sensei crap. We’re both civilians now, we’re equal.”

“Sorry, old habits.”

A thick silence envelopes you two once again, this time a little less awkward than it was before as a hint of sadness lingers in the air.

“Please allow me to accompany you on your next visit, I’d like to see him too.” You said leaning into his side.

“I think I’d like that.”

It was getting late, the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding your village. The two of you had retired inside your home where you offered to make him dinner. Sanemi accepted and the two of you ate peacefully while you reminisced.

After clearing and cleaning up a bit you returned to your engawa where you sat in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company.

Refusing to meet your eyes, Sanemi moved to place one of his hands over yours. The gesture has your heart thumping wildly in your chest, his too. “I very much wish… to see you again.” His words came out as though he was struggling to say them.

“I’d like that too…Sanemi.”

His name falling from your lips makes him stop in his tracks, looking up at you instantly.

“Say it again. My name.” He breathed out, he wanted to say more, but he’s too caught up in the fact that you finally called him by his first name.

“Sanemi.” you said tested it out on your tongue once more, pronouncing each syllable

At that he smoothly bridged the gap between you, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You almost forgot how to breathe. Cradling your face, he reaches his right hand around you and pulls you closer, deepening your kiss, relishing in the feeling of you.

It was then that you knew what was missing all those months ago when you returned home. It was him, he was your home and your village just didn’t feel like it had a place for you without him.

You're the first to pull away from the kiss, lungs not at all what they used to be back when you had to constantly use Total Concentration breathing, resting your forehead against his you stare into his lilac eyes with a shy smile.

“Stay with me tonight Nemi,” you murmur, fingers lightly tracing along his cheek as he hums in contentment. “Let me take care of you.”

Sanemi does not answer you, instead settling to pull off his haori while going in for another kiss, this one a bit rougher.

You admit to yourself right then that the name Sanemi rolls off the tongue so much better than Shinazugawa does.

#sanemi shinazugawa imagines #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #sanemi

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dilfdemolisher · 3 months ago

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PERSEPHONE - CHAPTER THREE

“Persephone, queen of the underworld. Hades runs Hell, but she’s in charge of punishment.”

Series Summary: A serial killer who works with the police herself has a tumultuous past with Jack Crawford and his new profiler Will Graham. While trying to rebuild what she once broke Hannibal Lecter sticks himself in the middle of the few things she cares about - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, dead bodies, murder that is very female targeted, canon character death, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 9.5k (yes you read that right…I'm sorry)

The sterile walls of the hallway close in around you as you make your way towards the autopsy room. "Agent," a familiar voice calls out behind you.

"I'm not your 'Agent' anymore, Jack," you say, wincing as you turn to face him. You were never officially an agent; Jack only started calling you that when you began sticking your nose into his cases.

"Force of habit," he deflects, his tone unusually soft for him. "I need to talk to you."

You glare at him, hoping he'll get straight to the point. The last thing you want is for Jack to drag you into his office, which always feels like a principal's office—the prelude to a lecture you’d rather avoid.

"I'd like you to resume therapy," he says finally.

Your heart sinks. "No."

"Bloom knows a therapist in Baltimore-"

You cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Are you serious? The last time I took her advice, I ended up tied to a chair and tortured. I'll pass."

"Dr. Lecter is one of the best in his field. She recommended him when I expressed my concerns." He tries to reason.

Is he serious? "So, you discussed your concerns about me with her first instead of just asking me if I felt I needed help?"

"It's not about what you want. If you’re going to continue working on this case, you need a psychological evaluation."

Frustrated, you turn away and continue down the hallway. This is such bullshit. You don't need therapy. "I'll pass, Jack, but I appreciate your concern," you dismissively yell over your shoulder, not slowing your pace.

The moment you enter the room, everyone's eyes fall on your frame. The three in lab coats momentarily feeze while Will quickly makes eye contact before his gaze shifts to behind you and paces out of the room.

“Were you honest when you said you two never dated—hell even slept together because this is awkward.” He says in an awful attempt to break the awkward silence.

“Any close relationship that didn’t leave on a positive note can cause tension, not just romantic ones, Price.” You state.

Beverly clears her throat. “So Will thinks the killer is eating the girls. Elise's liver was removed and then put back in place; the killer did that after he realized she had liver cancer.”

“We also found metal shavings on her body,” Zeller chimes in.

You sigh. “It’s plausible. It creates a very vivid image of this man. He…cares for these girls in his own twisted way. He’d view their consumption as an act of devotion, most likely a waste if he didn't. It’s a hunter's mentality; if there's anything left of these girls, it’s most likely fragments. Hair stuffed in pillows, bones made into various things—he wouldn't waste. If he is a hunter, he most likely has a dedicated space to this, a shed, probably doesn't live in the city.” You propose.

You’re met with silence for a moment before Beverly speaks once again. “I can’t believe you were never a profiler.” She shakes her head and smiles.

"Well, I momentarily am of sorts now.” You raise your arms forward and wiggle your fingers. “Maybe I understand him so well because I am him.” You say it in an unserious tone.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Hmm, yeah, I'm real scared.” You didn't even realize how much you missed Bev until now.

"Well, is that all?” You ask.

"Yup, that's it.” Brain tells you before grabbing something behind him. “I’ll be off then.” You smile and walk out the door.

2 YEARS EARLIER

Jack’s call came twenty minutes ago, his voice clipped and urgent. “Another one.” That was all he said, but it was enough. It wasn't just another body, not a one-off murder. He made it clear by his simple lack of words that this was connected.

During the entirety of your drive, your heart couldn't stop beating. The dull vibration filling your ears and pounding your chest overwhelmed you so much that you felt relieved at the red stop lights, giving you a moment to collect your barring's. Jack pulled up at the same time, his grim expression mirroring your own.

As he approached, his words were drowned out by your internal rhythm. But when Jack opened the door into the room, your body finally went quiet, and you finally feel like you’re alive again—living in the present.

A woman's body lay sprawled on the cheap, stained bed, blood soaking deep into the mattress. Your gaze travelled over her naked form, legs spread wide in a provocative display. Decaying vines twisted around her ankles and the bed frame, their dark, withered tendrils contrasting against her greying skin. It was a brutal, degrading spectacle.

There is a precise incision right above her pelvis, which is mostly one of the reasons why her entire torso is covered in her own blood, except her breasts. They look as if they were deliberately cleaned, the pink hue still lightly remaining on her skin.

Her mouth is slightly agape; something inside it is forcing her jaw unnaturally wide. Compelled by a mix of horror and professional detachment, your feet move towards her. You hear Jack say something but it becomes mute when you hear your heartbeat pick up again.

Your gloved hand delicately touches her jaw; now, closer, you can see her features. Up close, her traits become clearer. She’s unremarkable—plain, even. A white, brunette woman of heavy European descent with a slim build. It’s odd to think how un-special she may have been in life but now, in death, she's a spectacle.

Gently, you pry her jaw open, revealing a small, fleshy mass inside. You look towards Jack in confusion and ask, “Can I pull it out?”

Crawford gives a small nod and moves beside you. You give the object a small pull and it doesn't budge. “You hold her jaw; I’ll pull it out.” Jack says while looking at the strangulation marks on her neck.

You move your hands and the man pulls. You watch him struggle between delicately grasping it and forcefully yanking it.

You adjust your grip, one hand on her lower teeth and the other on the upper, pulling them apart. Jack pulls a bit harder; you watch as it starts to slide out, and just when you think its going to be stuck once again, Jack gives a final, forceful yank, and the object comes free.

Jack is holding the woman's uterus.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim. Momentarily forgetting you two weren't the only ones in the room. Someone behind him brings an evidence bag to Jack, where he drops the organ inside the plastic.

All eyes shift to the incision on her torso. Another forensic tech steps forward with metal forceps, his face pale but determined. He fiddles with the cut, and when he finally pries it open. You hear others gasp but you're still trying to compute the sight of the mess inside. At first, it looks like a jumble of smooth, misplaced intestines—until you recognize the pattern.

Scales. Snakes.

She’s been hollowed out, and her uterus has been replaced with dead serpents.

PRESENT DAY

It’s been days, and still nothing. The most frustrating part of working in a field that is centered around solving crimes is the cruel irony that sometimes you need more evidence to build a profile—to move forward at all. You've heard about Jack narrowing down the search by identifying the specific metal found on Elise's body, but you honestly couldn't care less.

You deluded yourself into believing that taking on this case was a selfless act, but your defenses are crumbling. You’re here for Will to glue together what was once broken. But you’ve never fucked up on this scale before, and you don’t know how to fix it. Your fingers stick together from your messy revival attempts, and the toxic fumes cloud your mind. Why did you think it was a good idea to show up at his house?

A knock at your door—your own door—in Baltimore interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

No one called to warn you of an appearance; your overactive work brain can't shut off even now, envisioning an ax murderer standing outside your home.

How comical.

"Open up, it’s Crawford." Jack’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. Not an ax murderer; that makes more sense considering it’s 10 AM and you live in an apartment building. Unless he’s here for other reasons, maybe he knows and wants to give you a chance to explain yourself before slapping handcuffs around your wrists.

Unsure how to navigate this possible confrontation, you blurt out the stupidest thing: "Why?"

“Because I need to talk to you,” he shouts impatiently.

With a sigh, you walk to the door and begin to unlock it. “That’s what my number is for. I thought showing up at my workplace was invasive, but this is—” Your words cut off as you opened the door.

“Who are you?” you ask, your eyes shifting to the unfamiliar man standing beside Jack.

"I’m Dr. Lecter. Jack has asked me to assist in this case, similar to you," he says with a polite smile, more out of courtesy than genuine pleasure.

You recognize the name from Bloom. She mentioned him plenty of times, but this isn’t how you envisioned meeting him. It reminds you of when, after the "incident," as she likes to call it, she recommended him to you and offered to call him. You declined.

"Okay." Your glare bounces between the two men. Jack's scowl deepens while the doctor’s eyes remain fixed on you. You're not sure if he’s blinked once since you opened the door.

Jack groans and begins to speak. “I want you to speak to a professional for a psychological evaluation. I already told you this.”

You’re taken aback by his intrusion. “I’m sorry, is this an intervention?” Crawford opens his mouth to speak, but you continue before he can justify himself.

“This is ridiculous. First, you begged me to help you on this case, and now you're doubting my sanity?”

You focus on maintaining eye contact with Jack, not fully seeing the doctor's face beside him, but through your blurry peripheral vision, it looks like amusement. What an asshole.

“I’m not doubting your sanity; I’m clearing this up for legal reasons.”

It’s bullshit, and you know it. “You know what I think, Jack? I think you’re scared of another fuck-up.” You bite, “You lost Miriam, and then, because of a lack of diligence on your part, you almost lost another one of your worker bees. And you just can’t handle another tragedy like that again.”

Jack opens and closes his mouth, more-so shocked by how cold you were to him than anything. You’ve been pissy before, but nothing like that.

It’s harsh and untrue; what happened to you or Miriam isn’t Jack's fault, but that’s not the point. You wanted to strike him where it hurts most. He confided in you about his guilt during the aftermath of your incident, and using it against him is cruel, but that’s what you’re going for, and it clearly worked.

Your gaze finally directs to Lecter, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I think it’s best you both leave.”

As you swing your door shut, you see him smile. This time, it’s genuine. His crow's feet become prominent, and his top lip slides up to reveal his pointed canines. You much prefer his disingenuous smile to the one where he looks at you like a pretty little doll who just did a party trick.

2 YEARS EARLIER

The victim, a model named Clare Greene, her once beautiful face beaten until her nose lay flat across her face. Blood pools around her head from her slashed throat, soaking into the plush carpet that her back lies on. In both of her hands rest two magazines; she’s on the front cover of both.

As you approach the body closer to snap another picture, you notice the defense wounds her wrists bore. “Who found her?” You ask, not to anyone specific; you just let the words come out of your mouth with hopes of an answer.

“Her fiancé, ma'am. Ethan Kingsley, he was supposed to meet her for breakfast; when she didn’t show up, he came here to check on her.” The officer beside her answers.

You nod, your eyes scanning the room. Broken glass glittered on the floor near the bar; an overturned chair in the corner; the place was covered in blood splatters.

“Jack!” You shout, hoping to get his attention.

You hear his footsteps before you see him. “What?” He asks.

“There's a fine mist of blood over here, most likely a result of her severed artery.” You say while motioning to your neck, “All across the back wall right there. The fatal blow happened here—then she stumbled onto the carpet, where she collapsed, and he started beating her. She was either unconscious or already dead when he started so he did it for the sake of it.” You explain.

You move closer to her. “The long, linear streaks of blood that fan out from her indicate she was also stabbed before he started beating her. The angle and distribution suggest he was standing above her—not straddling and swinging the weapon in a very vertical downward motion.”

You continue as you lead Jack towards the bar area. “These smaller, less-directed spots are all scattered around this area. I think the first attack was here, but she put her forearms up to block it and ran, leaving the droplets behind as she ran.” You say while mimicking an X with your forearms, “It also matches the shallow defensive wounds right below her elbow; it didn’t go too deep; it seems like a very light slash.”

Jack nods, quite for a moment. “Okay.”

Not satisfied with his response, you say, “This is bad, Jack; four murders and no suspects. I’m just-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, ‘“I’m not very confident in my usefulness.” Your head ducks down in your admittance.

“I’m sure many feel that way; there's no point in festering it; that’s not how things get solved.” Jack scolds.

As much as you’d rather allow Jack’s words to fall deaf on your ears, you know he's right; it’s not about you; it’s about the victims and solving what's been done to prevent more tragedies. “You’re right I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist. I don’t know why I said that.”

Jack says nothing and walks away, leaving you to stew in your own embarrassment over your unwelcome confession.

PRESENT DAY

The next day, you arrive at your momentary office in the BAU. You can’t shake off the invasive encounter given by Jack. It sits heavily in your mind as you try to focus on the case files in front of you. It feels like your head is so full of tenacity it’ll start leaking out of your ears.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of determined footsteps outside your door.

The door knobs twist and Beverly speedily walks in before you have time to adjust. Looking a bit more chipper than usual and dropping a stack of papers on your desk.

“Good morning. Any updates?” you ask, masking with a forced smile.

“Just the usual. Lab results, cross-references, the fun stuff,” she replies, giving you a teasing look. “‘Found out the specifics of the metal found on Elise’s body, which narrows things down a bit.” She smiles.

“What?” you say, picking up and flipping through the papers without really seeing them. "You've got to be shitting me, and Jack didn’t even say anything to me.”

"Well, he mentioned heading off to Baltimore to talk to you but it seemed that never happened.” She cluelessly shrugged.

Grateful for her being unaware of your awkward encounter with him and Lecter, you ask, “So what happened?”

With a smile, she turns her back and says, “Read it and talk to Jack.”

“Oh fuck you.” You say unserious; she doesn't give another response but you hear her laugh accompanied by your door closing as she leaves the quaint room.

After reading the file, you make your way towards Jack’s office, curious as to why he didn’t bring this to your attention. As you approach the door to knock, it swings open and bumps into you. “Shit.” You say under your breath, pain blossoming where the door met your toes a moment ago.

As you back away, Will immediately comes out. You both stand there staring at each other. You see his jaw open to speak before he turns and quickly walks away from you.

You figure he was going to apologize for the collision, and now all you can think is if the reason he scurried off was because of the obvious stress he was exuding and decided to book it, or if he didn’t deem you worthy of an apology.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you peek into Jack's partially opened door and say, “I was wondering-” You feel yourself become silenced with the notice of another person in the room, Dr. Lecter.

“Oh.” Is all you can give for an immediate response. The room is quiet, Jack looks annoyed with your uninvited presence, and the man across from him seems to be sizing you up in a clinical fashion.

They’re both waiting for you to speak, not wanting for this unbearable silence to continue for longer than you do. “My apologies; I didn’t mean to intrude.” You say before closing the door behind you.

You quickly scurry off, and as you turn into another hallway, you see a familiar figure hunched over a water fountain. You fasten your pace and Will’s eyes open suddenly from the sound of rapid footsteps. He pulls away from the fountain, water dripping off his chin that he wipes off when he brings his forearm to his face.

Within the few seconds you have before you reach him, you practice what to say and points to make speak that hopefully can de escalate his discomfort.

“I understand my presence is quite unbearable for you but I’m asking for your assistance in a professional manner. I’m being left out of the loop on plans for Nichols and I would like to be more aware. I don’t feel as if I’ve contributed much and I’d prefer to do better.” You justify your presence to him. Some parts of you feels pathetic, not because of what you are doing but because you know you would never do it for someone else.

“I’m sure I know as much as you do.”

You want him to say more to you so desperately. You’d rather him yell at you or punch you in the fucking stomach than be so reserved. You suppose it’s best; you quite literally came up here asserting it’s for professional reasons but only wish he’d deconstruct his walls and allow you in.

God, you’re so entitled.

With your shoulders slumped, you cordially respond, “I understand. Thank you for your time.” Before walking away.

As fate would have it, everything unfolded in its twisted, godly way. The call came in for another victim—a woman impaled on a stag head left to be displayed in an empty field. A stark contrast from the meticulous love of the Strike; the dissonance Jacks is unable to see is migraine-inducing.

Ding

Your phone chimes, and you really think that whatever higher-power there is is determined to rest your patience today.

The screen, annoyingly bright, stares back at you, displaying a name that’s foreign to your recent call history.

Will

No last name; you know multiple Will’s, but they’re contacts are accompanied by their last name. But not Graham’s; he’s much more deserving than that.

You feel like you’re hallucinating when you look at the words asking you to see him and where he’s staying. From any other man, this might have been a crude proposition, but not from Will. Sweet, enigmatic Will.

You’re not sure if this is meant for someone else. He would have had to search through his contacts to find you, given the long period of silence between you. He couldn't even be sure you still had the same number.

It must be meant for you. This is the opening you’ve been praying for; you’ve never been more thankful for deities you’re not sure if you even believe in.

Your legs feel like they're moving for you as you stand up, hardly fazed by the morning cold as you walk to where Will’s staying; leaving your dingy motel room just to go to his.

It feels like mere seconds from receiving the text to standing at his door; time feels so warped in the grip of anticipation.

Your knuckles gently tap the door multiple times to alert him of your presence. Flashbacks invade your brain of how awful your last encounter was, though your presence seems more welcome now.

The door opens faster than you can blink. Will’s messy hair and lack of pants make you feel like you're intruding, despite his invitation.

He cranes his neck out to look behind you. “Come inside,” he says, hushed.

You walk inside, and all you can think of is how “Will” this place is; it’s like he was meant to stay here. But that could also just be you holding him in higher regard than necessary and assuming the world revolves around him.

That very well could be it.

As he closes the door, the room becomes cloaked in darkness. “Can I—could I open a curtain?” You ask.

"Yeah, sure,” he says, waving off. As you open the curtains to see the morning sun, you see a familiar man dressed in a fitted suit walking towards the door.

You stiffen, your muscles tighten and lock as you feel Will give you a glance, expecting you to know the visitor.

“Did you invite Doctor Lecter as well?” You ask, just as confused as he is.

"No, I did not.” He huffs as he opens the door, revealing the man with his fist raised, about to knock against the wood.

“Eager.” The man outside says with a subtle, entertained smirk. “Good Morning Will”

Walking closer to the door, tilt your head to take a peek. "Morning, Doctor.” You unenthusiastically greet.

His face momentarily drops, just quick enough to show disappointment, before rearranging his facial movements to show false delight.

“Good morning to you as well.” He says politely. You can’t bother to verbally respond; this was meant to be a moment for possible reconciliation. Not interruption.

Will, who’s deep in thought, snaps back into the present and offers the doctor to step inside out of the morning chill. He accepts it happily, seemingly aware that he interrupted something but he doesn't seem to care; if anything, it seems he’s taking enjoyment in it.

“I came bearing gifts.” He says, raising the glass containers of food he’s holding. “Though my apologies, I didn’t expect you to have a guest.” He apologizes to Will.

“I don’t eat in the mornings anyway; it makes me nauseous.” You excuse.

Will gestures towards the small dining area, silently and awkwardly indicating for everyone to sit. You take a spot, sitting on a stiff wooden chair, trying to ignore the piercing gaze of Hannibal.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” Hannibal asks you as he gives Will his prepared meal as they both settle into their seats, with Will beside you and Hannibal parallel to you.

Wills eyes continue avoiding both of yours. "I needed to talk to someone who understood," he responds for you.

Hannibal, opening his container of food on the table, raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you need to talk about, Will?"

Will hesitates, his fingers nervously fiddling with the fork in his hand. "Cassie Boyle. The case... it’s different this time."

Hannibal leans back, looking intrigued. "Different how?"

“What is the purpose of your visit?” You redirect the conversation. This was meant to be a private conversation and you don't appreciate the way Lecter finds it appropriate to put Will on the spot.

You watch as his hand tightens the grip around the fork in his palm; he’s mastered the art of his facial control. He really is an incredible attempt at the personification of nonchalant, but he still has his tells.

“An attempt to befriend a coworker; I’d like to serve the purpose of a mediator, alleviate tension when possible, and give my insight on more grim- work related things.” He answers.

You know you shouldn’t taunt, but you can’t help it; the temptation is too grand. “What makes one worthy of a visit and what disqualifies another?”

Hannibal seems pleased by your words, oddly enough. “You are more than qualified; I figured you’d appreciate time. I understand you’re not necessarily fond of me.”

“I’d argue the only person fond of you in this room is yourself.” You bite. Hannibal says nothing in return, nor does Will. They both eat in silence as you fidget with your hands, desperate to be soothed.

Staring at the painted wall in front of you, you watch through your peripheral as Hannibal swallows a bite of food from his fork and opens his mouth to speak to Will. “I would apologize for my analytical ambush the other day, but I know I would be apologizing again.” He says, flicking his head towards you briefly in recognition. “And you’ll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.”

Quickly and harshly Will responds, “Just keep it professional.”

Hannibal responds after taking another bite of his cooking, “Or we could socialize like adults; God forbid we become friendly.”

“Where's Crawford?” You ask as soon as the thought rolls into your head.

Hannibal’s head stiffly turns to face you. “Deposed in court. The journey will be ours today.” He curtly says.

Then why did he exclusively come to Will? Why has he seemingly made no plans to properly introduce himself to you?

It’s not that you're jealous; it’s not his attention that you want; it’s just the simple need to be recognized as an equal. You’re good at what you do—great, even. And this isn’t the first time someone has disregarded you for no apparent reason. Well, you think you know why.

Standing up from your chair, you speak. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be off-”

“Why?” Will immediately asks, mouth full of chewed food.

“Gotta get ready for the day. Unfortunately, it takes more effort than just a clean shirt and brushed hair for me to be presentable. I’m sure you’d understand that, Doctor.”

The moment the words come out of your mouth, you realize the accidental insult you've just given. You didn’t even mean to insinuate that he’s someone who must put in extra effort in order to be ready for the day, but by the way his grip tightens on his fork once again and the displeasing curl of his lips, you're sure he took it that way.

“Jack gave a rental; I can drive you when you're ready?” Will offers, as pleased and equally confused you are for his sudden change of heart on your existence. You are also well aware that Lecter will most likely be hitching a ride to.

“I actually drove here. I thought it would be good for me to have some more time to sort out my thoughts.” You say, walking towards the door. “But thank you; I’ll see you both soon.” You say, as curtly as possible before twisting the handle and making your exit.

Files, files and more files are all you’ve sorted through since you arrived at your destination, the place where the Shrike most likely works.

You hear a car pull up next to the dingy little trailer of the office of the work site, the sound vibrant against the noise of ruffling papers and the secretary talking to her boss on the corded phone sitting on her desk.

The door creaks open, and as you turn around, you’re greeted by the sight of Will walking in through the door held open by Hannibal.

“I’ve sorted through these four on the left so far,” you say in reference to the seemingly never ending towers of file cabinets. “And those boxes are where I’m throwing shit that if you twist an arm and a leg, you might be able to find something slightly suspicious.”

Hannibal walks in, closing the door behind him and Will nods. “What about her?” He asks, tilting his head to the side where the secretary sits.

“Conversation with her boss, I think. One that doesn’t seem to be going very well.” You explain with a tiny humorous smirk. Her head snaps towards you as she glares, unable to verbalize any frustration so she settles for squinted eyes.

“Do you need direction?” You condescendingly ask. Hannibal, seemingly unfazed by your attitude at this point, does nothing but shake his head and say, “Not yet, no. But I’m sure you’ll give me some.” His smile contradicting his pointed words.

Moments went by, flipping through papers upon papers. The feeling of being stuck in a never ending loop is finally broken by the secretary's voice directed at the three of you.

“What did you say your names where?” She asks, standing up.

Before you or Hannibal could respond, Will does. “Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

With a sigh, the woman answers, “He’s one of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. ‘Plumbers Union requires ‘em whenever members finish a job.” She says, before quickly spinning around and whispering into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” And places the landline back onto the plunger.

Finished with her phone conversation, Will continues to inquire. "Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?”

“Might have.” She says in her tired, monotone voice.

“Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chafed, um- plain but pretty. She’d have auburn hair; be about this tall.” He motions a bit below his ear.

She shrugs in response. “Maybe I don't know. I don’t keep company with these people.”

“What is it about Garrett Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?” Lecter's voice chimes in.

“He left a phone number, no address.” He answers, his back still facing you both.

The doctor questions Will once again, turning to face more towards him, “And therefore he has something to hide?”

Taking a short breath to breathe, Will answers, “The others all left addresses; he also missed work for days at a time.” You can see he’s slowly getting more wound up. His mind is moving and scrambling around different possibilities too fast for him to make sense of, and what he can decipher is nothing short of tasteless.

"Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?” You chime in an attempt to take a sliver of weight off of Will’s shoulders.

The dark haired woman rolls her eyes and silently walks toward her desk. She takes a few moments to gather her information, the sounds of a keyboard clicking and shallow- impatient breaths fill the room.

Grabbing a pen, she scribbles numbers onto the small square of paper before standing up once more to hand it to Will.

As often as it happens, you feel like you’ll never get used to the way men are consistently served first in this field. It's not Will’s fault of course, and you’re sure it wasn’t intentional on her part. But in a way that makes it worse, how habitual it is to subconsciously ignore you, woman, really anything out of the typical white male mold of an old detective movie.

You’ll never forget how Jack was so quickly disregarded in one of the first cases you accompanied him with. It was in some southern state where a series of home invasions resulted in multiple murders over a handful of months. On the way to the crime scene, the neighbourhood held lawns of homes that were decorated with not only American flags but Confederate ones as well. You watched the way the local police interacted with Crawford. The kind of people who tolerated him for his help but nothing else—aversion constantly clouded their eyes.

It's not that you haven't encountered appalling people of that sort before, but it was the moment when it clicked that no matter how remarkable your work is, if Crawford could be so quickly disregarded because prejudice, the man who was truly their saving grace for this case, what chance do you have to truly excel in your field?

“I could start loading the boxes in the trunk; can you unlock it?” You ask, not even bothering to look at the yellow Post-it note containing the address.

Looking at you with brows furrowed, he digs in his trouser pockets. “It’s manual, you have to unlock it.” He says while handing you the set of cool rigid metal.

“That's fine.” You say with a smile before heading out the door. Taking a breath of metal-scented air in an attempt to calm your nerves. Things are going okay—well, even.

Will seems to be no longer sickened by your presence, for whatever reason that may be. You're trying not to think of that, the reasoning for this sudden change of heart, and how you may already know it if it weren't for Lecter's earlier intrusion.

You're trying not to hold much disdain for him, to put it aside for the time being when there are non-metaphorical lives on the line. But it’s hard when the only thing you now personally know him for is an invasive little bastard. Not much like Bloom had described him to you before, back when you were civil. That's not fair to her, though; she’s civil—you're not. You're much too bitter now for niceties.

Moments pass by while you, Will, Hannibal and the secretary are hauling boxes out of the small office trailer into the back of the rental car. A monotonous and tedious task. One that may not seem to be fit for all though, as the doctor allows a box to stumble in hands, paper falling onto the wet ground.

Of course, Will’s the one to solve the problem, falling to his knees to scrounge the paper and telling the man not to worry. You watch as he doesn't even give a thank you in return; he just hustles back inside.

Clearly, the man doesn't have as much decorum inside of him as he presents.

Though you may not have room to speak, the moment the task was done, you grabbed the address covered note and put it into your car's GPS before telling Will just to follow you. You're sure you're contributing to his stress by being so evasive, but until you can stop being so erratic, your best bet is to stay slippery, not allowing him to get a good enough grasp on who you are before you can conceal it.

The robotic voice from your center console alerts you of the approaching destination. Turning on your turn signal a bit early to alert Will driving behind you of the driveway you are about to pull into.

You can only appreciate the home once you step out of your car. The plain suburbia of the family home becomes clearer once you get closer to the front door.

You turn to watch Will and Lecter step out of the car, Hannibal surveying the place with an analytical gaze much like your own, while Wills is unique. It’s Wills.

You're unsure if you should wait for Will and have him be the one to knock at the door. You’re defenceless; you have no gun, no badge, and no reason for someone to open the door for you alone.

The decision seems to have been made for you when the door opens. Turning to look, you are greeted by the sight of bloodied hair and body weight pushed onto you. Before being granted a moment to collect your thoughts, you feel yourself falling. The sight of a man with a knife turning away is the only distinct thing you can make out as the rest melts into a scene of blurry green and blue before you and the body on top of you hit the ground.

The moment your head hits the concrete, you know you're done for. The sound of your hard skull smacking against the ground reverberates through your spine like an echo. An uncomfortable pounding takes over all your senses as Will runs up to you. The body weight of the woman is pushed off of you. You can hear the vibrations of his voice against your eardrums but nothing more—all unintelligible in your mangled brain.

You can feel your mind quickly leave its haze as fast as it came to you, your senses returning. You pull yourself up on your forearms to try to slowly raise yourself up. “Go.” Your voice sounds weird coming out of you; it's so loud that it feels like a microphone is hiding in your throat.

An unfamiliar hand grabs the back of your skull. “I’m here; you can go, Will.” Hannibal's voice firmly says behind you.

And he does; he quickly stands, pulling out his gun and walks into the house as Lecter pulls you by your armpits to sit properly. “You’re not bleeding.” He states, moving your hair around your head softly to check.

“Bleeding.” You think. Blood. You can feel blood all over your skin. You know you’re not bleeding, you don’t feel anything leaving you. But you feel everything on you.

The woman lays beside you, face up towards the dreary sky, as the sound of a quiet pattering of blood collects in a pool below. “God.” You exclaim while attempting to push yourself up from your wobbly arms.

“Slow do-” The accented voice behind you speaks before being cut off by a series of gunshots. You feel each noise in your chest, each one causing your heart to sink further into your stomach. Ignoring the dizziness blooming in your head, you clumsily stand up. Hannibal's hands pointlessly attempt to grip you to help your stability as you quickly stumble into the Hobbs residence.

The overwhelming smell of iron invades your nostrils—you freeze. Will huddles over a limp body, you from behind as he struggles to place his hands. Jack was right, you're not ready for this. Slumped in the corner lies a man, bullet wounds decorating his chest in rows.

Will killed him.

Your mind plays the sentence over and over again on loop as you feel Dr. Lecter's eyes bore into the back of your skull. He walks over to Will, his posture so straight that it's unnerving. The way his hands steadily grip the young girl's throat to prevent more blood from spurting out mocks your shaky ones.

Will beside him looks just as shaken up as you do, sitting there frozen, watching as the girl on the floor clings to life.

“Call in.” Hannibal's voice shakes you from your thoughts. As if on autopilot, your bloody hand messily dials for an ambulance. Your words sound so foreign, entirely not yours, as you explain the scene in front of you, eyes locked on Will as he dissociates from his surroundings.

It happens so slowly and so fast. A whirl of paramedics running in. Ushering you all to leave, but you can’t. The moment you exit the door, you freeze at the woman's body in front of you.

She was murdered, died on top of you and was the last bit of warmth she felt before she went cold. You feel sad, A woman's life was brutally stolen from her far too early. You feel sad about the surrounding context of her death, but mostly you feel gross, dirty, sticky, and frustrated that she had to expel her life force all over you.

You want a shower.

After getting checked by the waiting paramedic outside, who confirmed a grade 1 concussion. You can't stop thinking about what just happened to Will's head. He just murdered a man to save a life and you know what that can do to someone—it's the exact thing that ruined you.

You’ve done it again, showing up uninvited again, only this time to his motel room and not his home. But you have to talk to him.

Some agent you never even got the name of drove you both back to your respected quarters. Neither of you were in a state to drive; you can’t for the next 48 hours and Will... God knows how Will is.

That's why your visit is needed; it’s not for your peace of mind; it's not an apology; it’s to make sure he's not alone with thoughts and has someone to help clear them.

After knocking at his door once again, he opens it. “Hi.” Your voice cracks.

“Hi.” Greets back. He sounds…tired.

“I wanna come in.” You tell him there's no point in pleasantries; he’s known why you’re here since the moment you knocked on the door.

Fortunately, that gets him to crack a small smile and say, “Sure.”

As you both walk further into his room, he closes the door behind you. The room’s dimly lit, and the curtains drawn tightly to block out the world. You can see the disarray around you—books strewn across the floor, papers piled haphazardly on the desk, and an untouched dinner plate on the nightstand.

“I brought a gift.” You say, sticking your arm out, handing him the bottle.

"Vending machine root beer, you shouldn’t have." He attempts a joke, but the effort is hollow. Everything he says only deepens your concern; he’s so quick to brush off everything that's happened and act as if everything's fine.

“You’re freaking me out, Will,” you awkwardly laugh. “I know your feeling pretty fucked up right now. You don’t have to act unbothered.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, a defensive look quickly absorbing his eyes. “Just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.” The moment the weight of the words he’s thrown at you registers, Will's face drops. His entire guarding demeanour immediately shatters the moment they come out.

"I-I’m sorry." You stutter out in shock of how his attitude is instantaneously flipped by words. "I know what happened was different; I just wanted to check up on you." Your words are met with silence, the two of you just pitifully staring at each other. The room feels colder, the silence is more suffocating.

He breathes out your name so softly that you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know…why I sa-said that.” His hand roughly runs through his hair as he takes a step forward. “I want you to stay.” He states, uncharacteristically bold from him.

Unsure what to make of his words, you just stand there. Both your minds are reeling—Will’s for a way to apologize and yours to just disappear.

“I know I didn’t handle myself well.” You say, taking a deep breath, “I’m not saying my actions will be your own; I just wish I had someone to understand what its like to take a human life and not hate it.”

That's it—the thing you could never admit, not even to yourself. So much time was spent sprilling about why you are the way you are. Trying to convince yourself that this feeling brewing inside you is new, that it had been manually moulded.

Panicking from your admission, you quickly follow up. “I didn’t mean to project—fuck, I just don’t want you to wallow in the guilt of change like I did. What Hobbs did- who he was—was entirely irredeemable.”

Another step closer and the gap between you both becomes bridged, and his large hands rest gently on your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He delicately whispers.

You can’t help it; you fall apart and the dam behind your eyes breaks. The tears cascade down your cheeks faster than you can blink them away as he pulls you into his chest. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, the reminder that he’s real, he’s here, and he’s okay.

“I was so fucking scared when I heard those gunshots,” you whisper into his chest. His grip on you tightens, pushing you further into him. You both stay like that for God knows how long. From how heavily you’ve soaked his T-shirt with your tears and how you feel it around your brow bones and eye sockets, you’d guess it’s been a while. And with a deep sigh, you finally feel him pull away. “Are you okay?” He asks, gently looking you up and down.

“I should be asking you that.” You scoff, “Minor concussion; I’ll be fine in a couple days and a good night's sleep.”

He raises his brows in shock. “Yeah, well, good luck getting that.” You can’t help but laugh at his tone and reaction, as if you just said the most bizarre thing in the world.

A grin makes his way across his face at the sound of your laugh. “I miss you.”

You freeze. It’s what he said that took you off-gaurd, just the way he said it. The tone wasn’t sad or nostalgic; it was happy. Present tense too; he didn’t once mourn you and, over time, healed the wounds of a lost friendship. No, they’re still open, and he still misses you.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you never had a moment to grasp the closeness between you too. Looking up, you see him. The individual hairs growing out of his chin, forming his stubble; the small scar on his cheek that he got when he was a child but doesn't remember how; and his eyes. Those blue eyes that hold so much patience, so much care and so much understanding it makes you weak to your knees. You see Will—sweet, complex, deserving Will.

His hands grip your face more firmly this time, peering into your soul like you just autopsied yours. He's drinking you in your image, like he’s been starved, dehydrated, and famished. You wouldn’t dare pull away and deny him what he wants; you’ll give him anything and if he wants your soul, you’ll bare it to him.

“The only thing I regret is everything I did to you.” It’s such a heavy admission—one that’s entirely out of left field, and he still doesn’t know the true weight of it. “Please,” The words so delicately come from you. You’re not sure what your pleading for—forgiveness? But for which of your sins? In what context are you begging for repentance?

It doesn't matter what you decide. The only thing that does is how close his lips are to yours and how it’s still not enough.

“I know.” His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, then more certain. The kiss is a soft exploration, a silent conversation filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourselves to say. You feel his hands trembling slightly against your skin, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying to maintain.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. He’s quiet, waiting for the moment for you to turn and run like you do, but it doesn’t come. Instead, your hand finds itself on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls as you pull him in for another kiss.

Just as eager as you, he deepens the kiss, his hands moving from your cheeks to your waist, desperate to have you as close as he can. You could feel his heart beating against his chest, rhythmically in-sync with your own.

Energy intensifies, with hands greedily grabbing whatever they can, saliva coating each other's lips, feet scrambling across the floor until your back hits the crumpled sheets of the unmade motel bed.

The thin mattress creaks under your combined weight, but you barely notice—too preoccupied with catching each sound that spills from Will's mouth. His hands explore the curves and slopes of your torso with an urgency so similar to yours. Every touch, every kiss, makes your body buzz with ache, desperate to consume him from the outside-in.

He breaks away for a moment, his breath ragged, eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

"Yes," you reply without hesitation, your voice as steady as you could be despite the pounding of your heart. "I’m sure."

With that, he captures your lips again, his hands slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his calloused fingertips on your ribs sending shivers within you. You lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside the room fading into oblivion.

All you can think of is Will.

Will's hands slipping off your shirt.

Will’s chest bare against yours as you slip off his.

Will’s mouth on your neck, nibbling on your collarbone.

Will looking deliciously vulnerable covered in crimson outside of the Hobbs house.

The moan that slips out of your mouth as his tongue meets your nipple is involuntary; his wet mouth lays kisses and bites along the fat of your breast as he grips the other.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry as he breathes your name out, his voice thick with lust coating his vocal cords like honey. His hands roam lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your hips. His kisses trail down from your sternum to your stomach, getting sloppier as his breath contrasts with the coolness of his spit.

You gasp as he reaches your underwear, his fingers teasing the fabric. "Will," you whimper, your voice a mixture of need and desperation you’ve never heard from yourself before.

He peers up at you, his silvery eyes filled with desire—desire for you. "Do you trust me?"

Without a moment of hesitation, you reply, "Yes."

With a smile both wicked and tender, he pulls your underwear down and spreads your legs, revealing you to him. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail, every curve, and every inch. He leans in, his breath hot against your slick center, and then his tongue flicks out, tasting you.

You arch your back, a moan escaping you as he explores you with his mouth. His fingers tease your entrance, rubbing just around it in circles while his tongue dances around your clit.

You grip the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric. You’d latch your hands onto his head but you're afraid you’d rip his scalp off his head. The sensations are overwhelming, not because of the pleasure coursing through you, but because it’s Will distributing it.

Will's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and probing, while his fingers continue to tease.

He was devouring you, and you were more than happy to be consumed.

“Will," you moan, your voice breathy, desperate for more—anything else he’s willing to give. "Please."

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, then slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. You cry out, your body bucking against his mouth, your hips grinding against his fingers as you feel the prickle of his facial hair on your thighs as you squeeze them tighter around his head.

“So good,” he whimpers into you, his voice a mixture of need and desperation while he works you closer to your ledge. He does nothing but continue his assault, his tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You can feel the orgasm building in your stomach, the pressure mounting higher and higher as he desperately bucks into the bed for some form of friction.

"Will," you cry out, your voice louder this time, begging him for your release. He’s still so wordless—nothing but the vibrations of moans and grunts coming from him. Instead, he responds by increasing the pace of his fingers, his tongue more aggressive as you feel yourself tipping over the edge.

You feel your body move for you, sporadically convulsing as your orgasm washes over you as he drinks up release, coating his mouth and fingers. He continues his movements while you come down from your high, his hands prying your thighs open as he fucks his tongue into you, savouring your taste.

You're left panting, your body trembling, and your mind swimming in a foggy haze of pleasure when he finally pulls away from you with an expression of satisfaction. He moves up your body, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss.

You can feel your slick coating his facial hair as he kisses you, rubbing it onto you. It’s a messy and filthy action but fuck does it get you going.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle.

You can’t help but smile; he’s so fucking perfect.

A grin coats your face. “Yeah.” He’s gorgeous; the light is low, the cool light of the moon peeking out the sides of the curtains. You can’t see Will in his entirety, but that’s fine. His face so close to yours, his body on top of yours—you don’t need to see him; just feel him.

He smiles a small-relieved grin. “Good,” he whispers before pulling away. You didn’t realize he removed sweats until you felt the tip of his cock teasing you. A whine escapes from your lips as he rocks his dick back and forth along your pussy, coating himself in your cum.

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his pace deliberate, giving you time to adjust. Your brain short-circuits from how deeply he’s stretching you out every time he slips himself further inside you.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

You feel braindead; you've never been so pilant in your life. “More.” You manage to whisper out, your voice shaky.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow. Just the feeling of his cock repeatedly entering you makes your brain feel fuzzy. You can feel every inch of him, the way he fills you, how tightly you’re wrapped around him.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. “‘Missed you so fucking much,” he grumbles into your neck.

“M’sorry.” You whimper, “M’sorry, M’sorry.” You say fragmentedly, it took him nothing to fuck you dumb and yet your entire brain is filled with nothing but the repetition of his name.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wetness of your bodies, and the occasional moan that escapes from either of your lips—the both of you soaking up the feeling of each other in this moment.

You can feel the pressure building up again—the familiar prickle in your abdomen. “Please, don’t fucking stop.” Your voice desperately cries out.

He doesn’t slow down; instead, he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. You can feel him shaking, his body trembling as he nears his climax. Not bothering the silence himself anymore, he becomes just as loud as you, no longer speaking coherent praises, just moans and grunts that slowly raise in pitch with each stroke inside you he makes.

Nothing but each other’s names spill from your lips in affirmation that you're both here, together. You cry out, your back arching off the bed in a desperate attempt to be closer as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around him, milking him as he spills himself inside you, as he collapses on top of you. You feel his breath against your neck in ragged pants as his cock continues to twitch inside you, the last of his cum filling you up.

You wrap your arms around him, you're both spent. Bodies slick with cum and sweat, the euphoric high wearing off allowing the reality of how tired you’ve been the last couple to take hold of you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You breathlessly ask. As sleepy as you are, you have to make an attempt to do what you came for—someone to talk to.

Head on your chest, you can feel his smile form. “I was liking how little talking we were doing.”

A laugh puffs from chest at his response, “That works too.” You say, gazing down at him. As if he could feel your stare, he raises his head to look at you, chin resting on your breast. “I’m happy.”

A small laugh now finds its way from his chest at the juvenile remark. As ridiculous as it seems, that is the best way to describe it. It doesn't need complex-flowery language, you're just glad to be in his presence, alive and healthy. You're just happy.

And he understands, his gaze softens as a sincere smile crawls on his face, “Me too.”

#PERSEPHONE #hannibal nbc #hannibal #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal fanfiction #will graham x you #will graham fanfiction #will graham smut #mads mikkelsen x reader #hannibal x reader

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bingbongsupremacy · 6 months ago

Note

This might be bad but could you write a Steve Harrington story where he left the reader for nancy after they were secretly dating bc she’s plus sized. Then once he cleans up his act he writes her a letter. I was thinking it could be based on closure by Taylor Swift! Thank you !

Closure

This isn't bad ! I can totally do that. I listened to the song for the first time today so I hope you like this! Also, This is going to be a two part piece. I wanted to give some background context so that's what this first part is about. I'll be working on part 2 soon. I hope you don't mind.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: I'm not a basketball player nor have I ever been a manager. Honestly I've never really been to a basketball game so I'm not sure if this is all super accurate. Pls let me know. Cursing, Use of Y/N, use of the word girl, some self doubt.

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave cause you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

Teenage love. Powerful. Fast. Fun. Potent.

The first boy I fell in love with was Steve Harrington. How couldn't I have? His perfect hair. Beautiful eyes. His flirty smile.

Every girl liked Steve at one point or another.

Steve and I grew up together in Hawkins. We never had the same classes together, but boy, I knew of Steve. We finally officially met in high school when I became the manager for the Hawkins High Basketball team.

Freshman Year - 1981

" Alright guys, huddle up. " Coach Ryan shouts to the sweaty boys drilling around the gym. " This is our manager. You will treat them with respect, you hear? I want none of that bullshit that went on last year. You got that Seniors? " Coach Ryan sends a pointed look at the upperclassmen. " If I hear of anyone disrespecting our manager, you'll be running on bleachers for the next month. I'm serious. "

What an introduction.

I shift slightly, a little uncomfortable with the gazes of the boys. I send a small smile to the team, trying to calm myself. " Hey, guys. Let me know if you need anything. " I scan the group in front of me. My eyes land on a familiar face on the back row. His friendly smile sends a wave of butterflies fluttering throughout my body. My eyes linger on him for a few seconds before I force myself to look away.

The last thing I need is for him to realize I like him. How awkward.

The coach makes a few more announcements before he dismisses the boys to the locker rooms.

" I needs you to gather up the balls and take them back to the equipment room. " Coach Ryan nods in the direction of the small closet on the other side of the room.

" Sure thing! Anything else? " I ask, reaching down to pick up one of the stray balls.

" Not that I can think of. I'll be in my office if you need me. " Coach Ryan nods a goodbye before heading towards the boys locker room where his office is located.

I look around the gym. Abandoned basketballs lay scattered around the gym. This is going to take a minute.

I pull the metal ball holder behind me as I begin picking everything up.

" Here ya go. " A voice startles me from behind.

I turn to see Steve holding two basketballs under his arms. He sends me a small smile.

" Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. " He sets the basketballs on the top rack.

I smile back at him. " It's all good. I scare easily. "

Steve jogs over to one of the balls a few feet away from us, swiftly picking it up.

" Oh, you don't need to do that. I've got it. It's my job anyway. "

Steve shakes his head, a looks piece of hair falling in front of his face. " I don't mind. It's kinda fucked up you have to clean up our mess. "

I shrug. " I mean, I signed up to do it. "

Steve nods. " Why did you sign up to be a manager? "

" Honestly, to get out of class. " I feel heat begin to spread over my face at the sound of Steve's laugh. " I hate biology. "

" Whaddya mean? Mr. Jackson's a world-class comedian. You're telling me you don't like his cell jokes? " Steve grins.

I cringe, memories of Mr. Jackson's awkward dad jokes and the silence following filling my mind. " I could do without. "

" You know, I don't think we've actually ever talked before. " Steve points out while heading towards another ball. Instead of returning it to the cart, he dribbles it towards the hoop closest to us. He shoots it into the hoop, the ball making a loud sound as it returns to the ground.

" Well, we've never had a class together. " I shrug, taking the ball from him as he hands it over to me.

" What a shame. "

Does Steve like talking to me?

" I mean, that doesn't mean we can't start now. We're gonna be stuck together for the next few months. "

Steve picks up the last basketball. " True. I gotta go get changed before my mom gets here. It's been nice. See ya tomorrow? " His eyes steadily hold my gaze.

I nod. " For sure. "

Steve's smile widens slightly. " Later, Y/N. "

" Bye Steve. " My throat feels tight from excitement. I can't believe that just happened. Steve knows I exist. He knows I exist! And he actually likes talking to me! This...this is fucking great.

Sophomore Year - 1982

" Hurry the fuck up, Y/N. " Steve groans, his sweaty forehead pressed against his forearm. He lazily leans against the now empty bleachers, his eyes following me as I finish writing down the total of money the team made off of concessions.

" I told you that you didn't have to wait for me. I have shit to finish up here. " I nod towards the clip board in front of me.

" I'd be a shitty friend if I left you here. What if you get...kidnapped or some shit. I'd be first on the suspect list. "

Friend. I'm only his friend. Gosh, I need to get over this stupid crush. I mean, it's been over a year since we met and he hasn't said anything about liking me. Why would he like me now? He's into girls like Chrissy. Why else would he flirt with girls like her and not with me? If he liked me he'd tell me. Right?

I roll my eyes, trying to shake off my thoughts and focus of the impatient boy in front of me. " Great to see you care about me so much. Definitely isn't because of your reputation. "

Steve lets out a small laugh. " You know I'm fucking with you, right? "

" I know. Look, I'm almost done. Grab your duffle from the locker, will you? By the time you get back I'll have everything finished. Plus it'll give me a break from your whiny ass. " I joke.

" Ouch. And here I thought you loved me. " Steve holds a hand up to his heart, humor clearly in his tone.

For a moment my heart begins to race. Love. He knows? He doesn't know. Shut the fuck up and be normal. He's a friend. Just a friend.

" What made you believe that? Tommy's obviously my number 1. "

I'm not the biggest fan of Tommy. He's hot a cold. Somedays he's decent, other days he's a complete shit head. He's changed a lot since middle school.

For a moment something flashes over Steve's expression. Surprise maybe? Annoyance? As quickly as it comes it's gone. His playful expression returns. " I'll be sure to let him know that. "

" Don't you fucking dare! " My head snaps towards him. " I'll kill you, Harrington. I'm not even joking. He'll never let me live that shit down, even if it's a lie. And Carol will beat the shit out of me. "

Steve raises an eyebrow in amusement. He leans back against the bleachers, crossing his arms. " Don't worry, I'll sell tickets for the show. I'll even cheer you on. "

I roll my eyes. " Of course you would. "

" I'm gonna go grab my stuff before the janitors lock the locker rooms up for the night. " Steve laughs, pushing himself up. " Hurry the fuck up before I leave you here. "

" You wouldn't dare. "

" Watch me. " With that, he strolls towards the direction of the locker rooms. His strides ooze with confidence, a kind only Steve can emit.

Steve truly is one of a kind.

Junior Year - 1983

" Are you going to prom? " Steve asks out of the blue. He doesn't bother looking up from his text book.

I swallow harshly, heat climbing up my cheeks. I hate when people ask me this. " Nah. Prom's overrated. "

Steve's eyebrow quirks up. " So you're a dance hater? "

I shrug. " I just don't see what the big deal is. Blowing a ton of cash for one night? I'd rather buy new records. " I debate whether or not to tell him the next part. " Plus no one's asked me. " They never do. Why would they when they could ask someone like Carol or Chrissy?

Steve finally looks up at me, his gaze finally meeting mine. Shock is evident in his expression. " Really? You haven't been asked? "

I shake my head, heat crawling up my face again. " Why would I? In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have a ton of guy friends. And my friend pool isn't the largest. "

Steve sends me a sympathetic smile.

Instead of comforting me, it annoys me. He doesn't understand. He's had girls asking him out and asking him to dances from the moment he was allowed to go to dances.

" Anyone would be lucky to take you. You're a great person, Y/N. "

I roll my eyes, laughing slightly. " Yeah. Lucky. "

Steve's eyebrows furrow. " Why are you laughing? I'm serious. You're like the coolest person I know. "

" Then you have a very unique perspective of the word cool. " I glance up at the clock on the wall behind him. " Shit, I told my mom I'd run to the store and pick up some potatoes for dinner. I'm gonna be late. I gotta go. " I rush to gather my notebooks off of the library table.

" Do you want me to take you? " Steve asks, getting up after me.

I shake my head. " It's fine. It's just down the street. You keep studying. Lord knows you need to. Gotta pass that calc test in Jones' class tomorrow. " Truthfully, I just want to get out of this conversation and I'm worried that if Steve gives me a ride it'll just reignite the topic.

" Are you sure? I really don't mind taking you. I can always study at home. "

" I'm fine Steve. Plus, if you try to 'Study' at home, you're not going to get anything done. I know you. "

Steve rolls his eyes. " I love your confidence in me. With your reassuring words I can do anything. "

I let out a small laugh. " Shut up. "

Steve grins.

Fuck he's perfect.

I need to get out of here.

" I'll see ya later Steve. " I wave at him, pulling my bookbag over my shoulder.

" Later, Y/N. Walk safe. Call me in an hour or two so I know you weren't kidnapped or forced to join a circus. " Steve's joking but a part of his expression seems serious. Like he's actually worried about me.

I let out a sigh. " I'll be fine but I'll call you. "

I wish I was the type of person boys would ask out. The type that don't have to do anything for people to crush on them.

But I'm not.

++++++

" Y/N, Steve's here! " My mothers voice calls up to me.

What? Why's Steve here?

Confused, I head downstairs. As soon as I reach the bottom my eyes widen. Steve's still in the doorway, a small box in his hands. His hair is styled perfectly, like always. He's dressed in a fancy suit, something I've only seen him do for fall sport award nights or very special occasions.

" What the...? " I finally get to the bottom of the stairs. " Steve? What's going on? "

" You're going to Prom with me. " Steve holds out the box, his comment more of a statement then a question.

" I don't have an outfit! " I protest, confusion still fogging my mind.

" Just put on whatever you have. Come on, Y/N. It's prom. You need to experience it at least once. Why not with me? "

I feel my stomach begin to churn. Steve's taking me to prom? What fucking dream have I been blessed with?

I chew on my bottom lip. " I'll be back. " I turn to run back up the stairs.

I can't believe I'm going to prom with Steve.

I do my best to get dressed quickly. I manage to find a semi appropriate outfit for the dance and we head out.

" Dinner first. The dance is at 9. " Steve pulls into a familiar diner. It's the diner the whole team eats at after winning a game.

" Oh, you forgot to put on your corsage. " Steve opens the small box, gently taking out a beautiful corsage.

" Oh Steve, you really didn't have to do that. " I stare down at the beautiful flowers. " This is too much. "

Steve shakes his head. " I want you to have a prom to remember. You deserve it. "

I send him a smile. " Thank you. You...you're really the best. "

His smile widens, sending butterflies through my body. He gently puts the corsage onto my wrist. His fingers are cool. They leave tingly sensations on the skin he touches.

For a moment it's silent. I try to find a way to calm my nerves.

He's your friend. Just a friend.

" Actually, Y/N. I also wanted to talk to you about something. " Steve breaks the comfortable silence.

" Yeah? Go for it. " I take a sip of my water, my eyes staying on him.

For the first time he looks nervous. Like he has so much to say but he doesn't know how to.

" Are you okay? " I ask, slightly concerned. He's always so confident. He knows who he is and he's proud of it. It's something I've always admired.

Steve nods, pulling his eyes away from his water cup. " I'm just going to say it. Fuck. " He runs a hand through his hair.

My heart begins to pound faster. What's going on?

" Fuck, I hope this doesn't make things weird. That's the last thing I want. Look, I really like having you as a friend... " He starts.

What the fuck is he going to say? Now I'm nervous. Does he have another girlfriend? Someone who doesn't like him being friends with me?

"-But...fuck, look I like you. " He blurts out, a small blush crawling up his cheeks. " I've liked you for years and I really want to be more than friends. And...I don't know if this makes it weird. If you don't like me, I completely understand. We can just pretend this shit didn't happen and go to prom and never talk about it again. I really don't want to make you uncomfortable-" Steve rambles.

" Steve. " I try to interrupt.

" It's just been something I've struggled with for years and fuck, I don't want to keep it from you. Not when we could potentially be something more. I mean - "

" Steve. " I try a little more forcefully.

Steve's clearly stuck in his head because he doesn't seem to hear me.

"-I just don't want to have any regrets. Especially about you-"

" Fucking hell. Steve Harrington, I need you to shut the fuck up for a second. " I say louder, attracting the attention from an older couple nearby. " Sorry. "

Steve looks at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting my reaction.

" Let me talk. Please. " I look into his eyes, excitement bubbling in my chest. " I like you to. Fuck, I never thought this would happen. "

Steve breaks into a wide grin. His shoulders relax and he seems less tense. " You do? "

I laugh slightly. " I mean, yeah. You're funny, you're talented, you're nice. You're the whole package. Steve, you're one of the kindest people I know. It's hard not to like you. "

" Oh my...thank god. I was so nervous you weren't going to feel the same. " Steve leans back into the booth seat he's in across from me.

" Me too. "

Today really has to be a dream.

" So...do you want to be my partner? " Steve asks, his gaze holding mine.

I smile. " I'd love to. "

Senior Year - 1984

" I'll see you after class? " Steve grins at me. He pushes away from the lockers he was leaning on.

" Of course. I'll meet you at your car. "

I watch as Steve walks away. He's immediately swallowed up by the crowd.

Thing's have been pretty good. Ever since we started going steady, things have been really nice. Of course, some people in the school don't really approve. It's hard to ignore sometimes but we try. Not everyone agrees that Steve should date someone like me.

It hurts.

But what's important is that we're still together. Despite the shit people say, we're trying.

Sometimes I can see it gets to Steve. He's lost a bit of respect. It's so fucking stupid. I don't understand why people think it's so important for him to date a certain type of person.

Sometimes I feel guilty for us dating. Sometimes his teammates can be dicks. They don't see what he sees in me.

It doesn't matter. As long as we're both happy, that's what's important.

++++++

" Look, we need to talk. "

Those are the first words I hear when I get into Steve's car. His jaw is tight. He avoids looking at me.

" Oh, yeah. What's up? " I ask, confused about what's going on. " Are you alright? You look tense. Did something happen in fifth period? "

" We need to break up. " Steve blurts out. He still avoids my gaze.

My eyes widen. " What? What's going on? Steve, look at me? "

" I'm done, Y/N. I need out of this relationship. "

What the fuck happened? We were fine literally an hour ago. What the fuck is going on?

" Why? Steve, what the fuck are you talking about? "

I feel my heart begin to break at his words.

Steve shakes his head. " I just-look, you're a nice girl, Y/N. But...I can't date you anymore. " His voice waivers slightly.

" Steve, what did I do? " My voice crackles. I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. " What the fuck happened? "

" We don't look good together, Y/N. "

His excuse is fucking stupid.

" Since when have you cared about what other people think? Why now? "

Steve swallows harshly. " It's different now...I...you...we can't do this. You hear what they say about us, Y/N, don't you? What they say about you? "

Anger begins to bubble inside of me. This is what it's about. " It's me. You're embarrassed of me. " I'm silent for a second, trying not to let the tears come out. " Fuck you, Steve. "

Finally Steve looks up at me, hurt flashing over his face.

" You're an asshole, you know that? Since when have you given a fuck about someone elses' opinion? You're really doing this because of what other people have said? You're just like fucking Tommy, you know that? Like all of the other shallow assholes going to our school. " I open my door. " I hope you're happy. You'll finally get your spot as King of Hawkins back. I wish I'd never met you, Steve. "

" Y/N-" Steve begins, his arm reaching towards me. " I'm sorry- "

" Fuck you. " I slam his door, rushing away from his car. I hear a snicker as I walk past a few of the cars. Tommy and Carol whisper to each other, their harsh gazes glaring holes into my frame.

Steve's always had a bit of a reputation for being a dick to certain people. He's had a bit of a bullying streak. I thought that shit was over. I thought he'd grown out of it, I mean he was never mean to me.

I was wrong.

+++++++

Two days later he started dating Nancy Wheeler and I quit being a manager for the basketball team.

Fuck you Steve Harrington.

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